#who confessed to the audience they had read a paper *the night before*

[queenlua]

i’m sort of convinced that the absolutely best essayists produce new work only erratically.  it is very hard to do all the work of observing/engaging with stuff, then Thinking Real Hard, and then writing some actually-worth-reading piece, on anything like a weekly schedule.  sometimes a person spends years of their life thinking about something and only writes one thing about it.  but it doesn’t matter because that one thing was worth it, exactly what needed to be said

however, alas, the demands of (legacy) publishing and (newer) algorithms disproportionately favor Dudes Who Can Churn Shit Out On Schedule

which is why the most Aggressively Mid Writer of the 00′s Game Writing Scene, Ian Bogost, is writing for the fucking Atlantic nowadays, whereas all the actually interesting, provocative, strange, and generally-worth-reading writers from that era are like. their stuff’s languishing on some mothballed archive on their personal site.  or on a defunct blog.  someplace where people slowly forget about it even though their stuff was always way more daring and novel and just plain interesting than the polished bullshit that builds a career

grumble grumble

[regulusrules]

Chain of Thorns Review ✯✯

Beware, you are going to be staying here for a long while because I wasted my entire night writing this out of spite.

I'm going to start by accentuating how much of a CC lover I am. TID was exceptional. TDA had characters that snuffed my soul. Even TMI had its good moments with me, no matter how much I hate Clary. But nothing compared to TLH. It was a series I thought of recurringly. The fact that it was a continuation to TID made me go absolutely bonkers when I first read CHOG. It was perfect. Perfect in its characterization. Perfect in representation. Perfect in every single aspect I could think of.

Until this book.

If I've learned anything, it's that you either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become a villain. And this is exactly what happened with CC here. She ruined everything by writing this book the way she did. Utter waste of paper. Utter waste of time. I wish she had just left us at her cliffhanger to Paris in CHOI rather than shitting her way out in this one. Truly, it would have been more dignified than what she did here.

But where do I start? Lord, I literally wrote a checklist of all the things that went wrong in the book so that I wouldn't forget mentioning them. It's a list I never thought would be warranted for a CC book, let alone the culminating book of my favourite characters. The book just went on and on, repetitive and insanely ruinous to all what you hoped for. You wanted her to do justice by Matthew with him realising that he's not actually in love with Cordelia but with the idea of her? No, let's make it a fucking love triangle instead. You wanted Cordelia to exude the glorious power and grace that she had? No, let's reduce her to a stereotypical girl torn between two boys. You wanted James to be the ever-giving, everloving continuation of Will Herondale? No, let's shun him in speculative introspections instead and just give him a badass move in the chapter before the epilogue so that by the last page he's a semblance of the MC we fell in love with.

I haven't started yet.

Listen; I don't mind long books. Rather, I really enjoy them. I don't like rushed narratives or quick endings. I like seeing things given the depth they deserve. But that's not what happened with Cassandra and this 800 pages book. It was nothing but a waste of ink. She went on and on for CHAPTERS on things no one gave a shit about, but when it came to the actual scenes that were the core of the book.. she pretended she did not see.

𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃!

For example, the most important character arc of Matthew confessing his biggest secret to James was rushed in two pages. I kid you the fuck not, two pages. She might as well have not wrote it, just like she didn't write Matthew's conversation with his parents over this, rather skimmed it in a paragraph in the ending. Just like she did not write James's important scenes as well! You want him to have a proper conversation with Will about how he was cursed in the EXACT SAME WAY Will had thought he had been cursed when he was young? Joke's on you. You want to see Matthew's proper reaction to this? Um no. You want him to be truthful to Cordelia and tell her? Ah no my love, let's let the miscommunication theme work its way instead, prolonging this with him not wanting to be "pitied". For a very proud person myself, I did not see what Cassandra was doing by justifying their actions with pride. Pride is not about shunning pity. It's about not accepting it. So to ruin their character's arc by relying on this pedestal.. yeah, that didn't work.

What else? Ah, number one thing that created the checklist and made me leave the book for days: James and Jem's conversation. You know what the problem of it was? It was everything that Jem wasn't. I literally raged reading this scene, because as audience who are very familiar with Jem's characterization, you KNOW that his response to James's curse wouldn't be this plaintive indifference. There was NOTHING of who Jem was to James in this conversation. It was the first time someone from the elder generation talks to James about the curse, and it was very apparent how in despair James was from it, only for the conversation to not even exude one ounce of sympathy. I fucking didn't believe her. She tried to fix this by making James always able to calm down through Jem's instructions in the back of his mind, but what's the use of that when the main conversation we were looking forward to set an undertone of how much of a disappointment the rest of the book will be?

Next in the neverending list: Paris. Dear fuck, how it aggravated me. The utter ooc-ness of Matthew LYING????? Like fine, I get it. He didn't want to burden Cordelia with seeing him in shambles. How very honourable. So let's ruin this by being lying, conniving sons of bitches instead of being truthful and shutting her out while we heal for all we care. I mean, the whole ship is problematic for me, really, how Cordelia only clung at Matthew as her form of escapism and how he, supposedly, loved her despite it? I won't go on lengths on how I think the headcanon of how he was projecting his love on her instead of believing his real love for his parabatai should have WON, but the least CC could've done was to not make it too destructive for his character so that we basically have to go through a typical love triangle just because there's nothing better to write. She literally just reduced Matthew with all his charisma and superb characterization to a mess who doesn't want to heal. Even when he stops drinking, CC still enforced the narrative of how he was doing it for others' sake, not for his own. Only in the end, with the solo trip thing, do we get a sense of his adventurous spirit that might be on his way to healing. The rest was useless. The rest she just wanted to show the effects of withdrawal without showing HIS own thoughts about it. Nearly always it's people's thoughts about Matthew, about him going through this, about him always susceptible to the bottle, never HIM! Not one scene do we see his perspective, and God if this wasn't the most reducing thing she could have done to his character.

Should I start with Cordelia now, or leave it to the very fine end? Might as well do both, since it's basically a long list with everything that went wrong with her. My favourite female, also reduced to a shallow shell of all she could have been. It was like CC was taking notes from her shitty characterization of Clary and applying them to the one character that should have surpassed all standards. I'm not even talking about her reaction to the love triangle thing. I'm mainly talking about her fixation on it. How all of a sudden, the victimized mode was on, lamenting all what has been happening in her life. And sure, characters are allowed this— they're allowed to rage for all we care— but Cordelia became a hollow figment of the character she was with CC's insistence on this framework. She didn't even do anything about the matters that aggravated her, just took them all in with passivity that I was dying from. And the first time she did take matters in hand, her conversation with Matthew, she just slaps him in the face (metaphorically) with everything you don't say to a person who supposedly loves you. The real first act of agency I found in Cordelia was her reaction to Grace when she told her of the bracelet. How she took it in stride, and how it truly spoke of the fire and grace she was made of. Other than that, no amount of Edom or killing Tatiana or disentangling from Lilith could truly speak of her actions that were out of her own accord. And that's when you lose me: when characters lose their agency.

I'll be back to Cordelia later, but there is someone who I also wish to talk about regarding disregarding their agency: Anna. Just the most influential of characters being nothing but a puppeteer for Ari. And listen, not that I have anything against Ari, who was also one of my favourite characters, but no matter how much this ship is loved, it shouldn't have been the only sense of her character. We don't see Anna in her own eyes. We don't see her grief, her pain over losing her brother. We just see her characterization wasted on romance, and that was not all of who she was. When she discovered the abandoned entrance of the Silent City, that was the first time I felt like I was reading Anna Lightwood again. When in the epilogue she said, "I regret nothing", THAT was Anna Lightwood. All the rest was a bare reflection of the all-encompassing person she was. I mourned her more than I mourned Christopher.

Which takes us to darling Kit, who was done so dirty in the way his death meant nothing. I take it how characters thrust in war shouldn't always have honourable sublime deaths, but the least CC could've given us was their genuine pain over losing him. The intermission, the subtle references of their destruction over his death, were not enough. Not for a book that is 800 pages anyway. We don't even see Thomas, his parabatai, grieving. (Just like we didn't see him grieving his sister. It's so typical at this point to shrug Thomas's pain off.) She can justify it on Tumblr all she wants, but we don't put a lid on grief just because it's war and there's no place for mourning there. She didn't even write Cecily and Gabriel's reactions over the death of their SON! We just see them coming to the picnic in the epilogue, carrying their other kid. What a nice ending, CC :)))))

Truly, I wouldn't have found Kit honoured at all if it wasn't for that note: 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘍𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘔𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘐𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘺 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘊𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘓𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥. No matter how insignificant it must be for everyone, but this was the legacy I was waiting for Christopher. Waiting to see him honoured and revered in the eyes of his beloveds. This was the only thing, if you hear me.

Speaking of beloveds, from all the characters, the only one she did justice to was Grace for how she held on her care for Christopher and honoured him while doing so without being romantically entangled. One of the two stars is basically for CC not sailing that ship, and rather making them equals and companions. I absolutely loved this. And I love how when Kit spoke on her behalf, he was not speaking from being enamoured by her, but rather his own beliefs of what true mercy and justice meant. In the epilogue, when all of them hold on his words, that was what made me give a sigh of relief. But when James buried his gun saying Kit would "understand", that fucking made me explode. Because bitch yes he would understand, that's the problem. But you don't honour the dead by burying their greatest creations unless they specifically asked for it. He could've buried anything else to leave Belial behind; the book of Demons, Demons and Demons for all we care, but not this. It was the first time I was actually in pain from Kit's death.

Back to Grace though; CC still did her dirty. You know in what? That reunion scene of her and Jesse. Because fuck, I cannot even express how much I was longing for this scene. It was the one that would either carry the whole book in its shoulders, or speak for how shitty it was. And indeed it spoke, in the worst kind of way. I truly didn't expect CC to ruin this scene with how indifferent it was. Does everyone understand what it means to have your dead brother come back from the dead and call for you? It shouldn't have been as insignificant as she portrayed it. It would have been the most powerful scene of the entire book, if only she wrote it well. Instead what does she do? She leaves bars between them, figurative and literal, and distances them in a way that fucking ruins everything. I'm not saying she should've went on full emotional, but at least, Jesse's reaction shouldn't have been this painful. It wasn't even the time for the revelation. We could've gotten it later, but when closure was first met. For years, Grace held onto Jesse as her only anchor, and what does CC do? Throw the anchor in the sea. Fucking miser. This was my biggest indication of how CC will no longer know how to write emotional scenes.

And this was obvious in all of the other emotional scenes too, you know. When instead of cutting dialogue, she prolonged them, which made it horrible to read. Long dialogues are worthless without sincerity; I'm sure that's 101 writing for us. And no matter how hard she tried to issue sincerity, I personally could not feel it. I didn't feel it in their grief over Kit, nor in Matthew's reaction over the bracelet. I didn't feel it in Edom, nor felt it in Cordelia's pain when she saw James stabbing his own heart. They were all scenes that should have served, but all they served was half-baked imagery.

Last thing I'll say because I'm really going to post this review and leave Cassandra's entire world behind: the problem with her is that she has nothing new to offer anymore. Cassandra Clare is one of the best authors of nowadays, and rightfully so. She created a fully-fledged universe that is so well thought of and well-structured. But in doing so, she burned out by prolonging her stories. Chain of Thorns could've been culminated in a four hundred and a few pages, but instead she went on and on with ideas she had already done in previous books. Fuck, she even drew inspiration from the TMI show with the whole Alexander being kidnapped thing and going into a demonic realm. I legitimately didn't know whether to laugh or cry from how horrible that was; drawing inspiration from the show that fucked up your series. But really, this all speaks for how burned out she is. She is reusing the same ideas over and over for lack of new things to say. It's better not to at all rather than to go on in a "full cycle" of ideas. No matter how impressive she thinks it was, repeating 𝘊𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘢 𝘳𝘢𝘯 for 8 times (yes, I counted) in this book was truly NOT impressive. An idea hits for how fitting it is to the context, not for its sole sake. I haven't been this disappointed in TMI no matter how much I hated it just as I've been disappointed here for how she ruined the characters we grew to love. I hope she takes a break before writing anything new, because I truly believe she'll need it. And I hope, for her sake before the sake of this fandom, that she realises that there is no shame in taking your time in writing. It's so obvious she was rushed into writing this book, and that just speaks for how terrible the influence of media is nowadays. We love her despite her characters and despite her writing. Once she realises this, I'm sure her whole perspective might change as well.

And with this, LJ runs away from the Shadowhunters world.

[windwheeler-aster]

your secret admirer 

summary: you’ve been on the receiving end of many anonymous love letters for a while now. they’re very sweet, of course, and make you quite confident after reading them. but there’s something on your mind each time you read or reread these love letters. who exactly is writing them to you?

masterlist

pairings (separate): ningguang, keqing, zhongli, beidou, xinyan, yanfei, hu tao, ganyu, shenhe, yun jin, xiao, and baizhu x reader

reader info: gender neutral pronouns (they/them), reader’s relationship with characters is vague, and reader is not traveler

word count: 4,065 words (average of 388 words per character)

genre: romance, fluff, confession

format: headcanons 

warnings: open-ended confessions, anonymous letters, swearing, alcohol consumption mention, oblivious-ish reader, funeral parlor coupon jokes, hu tao being a match maker, and L-word dropped a lot

a/n: i do hope that everyone’s valentine’s day went okay. this holiday always makes me feel lonely and stuff, and i know others feel the same way. so, i wanted to be self indulgent for once! i apologize profusely if these felt out of character at all💖 (p.s. these are all open ended because... yes💖)

ningguang felt like she was too important to fall in love 

her title and presence is intimidating enough, and her attitude can come off as cold and harsh to those outside her inner circle

still, she’s always reserved this special kindness towards you; a total stranger, technically

which has defiantly gained some unwanted attention, but ningguang was sure to make it disappear with one side-eyed glance

ningguang didn’t realize until it was too late that she cared deeply for you

and now she’s kinda stuck on what to do with these feelings

she tried telling you, but at the last moment she chickened out. she’s lucky that you’re too dense oblivious to have notice anything wrong

but her feelings seep into her work

suddenly the very important work documents she needs to read AND respond to are boring compared to the light scribbling she does on a spare piece of paper

the light scribbling in question? a rough draft of a random love letter addressed to you. 

it’s in that moment that ningguang realizes that this was how she was going to get her feelings out

and damn it, she did it flawlessly 

each letter is so wonderful to read, always filled with compliments that make your heart skip a beat 

though, your curiosity of who keeps sending these letters is eating you right up. ningguang (or WHOEVER has been sending you love letters *cough cough*) has made it ridiculously hard for you to trace the letters back to you

...or so she thought until you come storming into the jade chamber, demanding an audience with ningguang, CLUTCHING FOR DEAR LIFE onto a familiar letter with a sleep deprived look in your eyes

did... did you spend all night figuring this all out...??? ningguang is not so secretly swooning

before you’re flung off the side of the jade chamber for disturbance of the peace, ningguang approves of your request and shoos everyone else out 

why did she have to fall for someone so bold?? you know EXACTLY why ninggaung

nonetheless, she’s quick to smooth everything over

“I don’t know if I should be more scared or impressed that you caught me. Actually, I’d love to hear how exactly you found out I was behind the letters. Maybe a more private discussion over dinner would be more suitable?”

keqing tried her absolute best not to fall for you

she already had a lot on her plate as the yuheng. keqing doesn’t have time for romance and lovey dovey love letters.

but as the saying goes, the heart wants what the heart wants

she just can’t stop herself from blushing and stuttering in your presence, its almost impossible to calm down next to someone so intelligent and attractive

so, on an evening when she was alone and not burdened by her work, keqing hesitantly wrote a love letter

she was tired of longing after you and decided to just bite the bullet already and process these feelings her way

it wasn’t a horrible experience, she noted. it was actually quite amusing to imagine how you would react to each word she wrote

she was even proud of herself for actually writing such a nice letter. it’s a shame that she’ll just store it away, never to be seen again. unless...

now writing love letters to you anonymously has become a part of her new routine before bed oops

eventually, keqing managed enough courage to deliver the letters. yes, all of them. (in a neat little box with your name signed nicely on top btw)

however, she was absolutely NOT prepared for you to open the door just as keqing placed the package on your welcome mat

“...lady keqing? what are you-” “this is a dream!” “what?” “you’re dreaming! goodbye, have a good dream!” 

she is so embarrassed. keqing doesn’t want to leave her house at all, out of fear of you confronting her with the love letters

but she eventually drags herself out to see you, finally biting the bullet (properly)

“I don’t make time for people out of the blue often, so listen up. I like you, alright? I’d really like to get to know you better and spend more time with you. ...Would you be interested in that too?”

honestly, zhongli didn’t want the letters to be anonymous

he’s always tempted to just scribble down his signature at the bottom of each letter and send it away before he can regret it

but zhongli restrains himself from doing so

mostly because his letters can be a lot, and he doesn’t want to risk scaring you away

however, if he keeps using hu tao to deliver the letters it might just happen

mostly because it makes it obvious to everyone (except you, apparently) that zhongli is the one behind all the love letters

and also because hu tao is just way too happy when she delivers the love letters, along with some “couple’s discount” coupons. hu tao come on

hu tao is so invested in this secret romance, btw

she doesn’t always read the love letters... but it’s more often than not that your love letters come to you pre-opened

hu tao can’t help it!! it’s just so sweet and she thinks knows how you feel about zhongli

so it wouldn’t hurt if she just edited the letters slightly and dropped zhongli’s name, right? HU TAO NO

after he deals with hu tao himself, zhongli calms himself down and finds you as soon as possible

maybe he still has a chance, maybe you haven’t read the letter yet, maybe there’s still hope-

nope. he sees you coming right around the corner, letter in hand with a flustered face, and only speeding up when your eyes land on his

zhongli wants to act like this was one of hu tao’s infamous pranks, but he just can’t lie to your face like that

so, he comes clean 

“I wrote the letters. They weren’t a cruel prank at all, my feelings are genuine and true. I... I really do like you. All I hope is that you reciprocate the same feelings for me.” 

beidou, the uncrowned captain of the seas and slayer of its residents, was head over heels in love with you

she actually wrote you love letters, anonymously of course, and sent them to you every time she left the harbor for another trip 

it was actually kazuha’s idea, but he doesn’t want to take all the credit for the captain’s romance

but her crew does help her with the letters all the time, whether that be getting them to you or actually writing them

of course, their help doesn’t go without any teasing or laughing towards beidou

they’re practically egging her on to sign the letters and for beidou to finally confess her “undying and unwavering” love to you (another suggestion by kazuha)

and after one night of heavy drinking, beidou writes up a letter all by herself. she signs it, then without another thought she sends it off with her most sober crew mate

the next morning, beidou wakes up to the crew mates breaking into her cabin, fretting around like mother hens as they hurry to get her sobered and nice looking

apparently, you were on the ship asking for an audience with the captain

beidou, who completely forgot about the letter from last night, thinks this is the best thing ever

until she sees the letter in your hands once she steps out of her cabin

after you gave it back, beidou read it over and saw that the letter was... undeniably bad. it’s writing was incredibly hard for both of you to discern, and the message behind it was even harder. but the signature at the bottom was unmistakably hers

while beidou internally promises to never drink again, she looks at you

well, you were bound to find out it was her sending the love letters. might as well tell you how she actually feels now.

“Alright, you caught me. I really like you, and I never told you before because I thought it would be difficult while I’m overseas. I’m willing to make it work somehow, if you are. So, what’cha say? You in or not?”

well, as a musician, xinyan doesn’t just write you love letters

a lot of her songs are based about you, but she’s a little too shy to play them because they’re so OBVIOUSLY about you (she thinks so, anyway)

she does enjoy writing the letters though!

her love letters are as bold as they come. both in their appearance and writing because xinyan pours everything into her letters and music, hoping that it’ll make your day better

she does care about how you are, y’know that right? she watches from afar as you read on, smiling whenever you do too

although, xinyan just cannot bring herself to confess to you

she knows that being in a relationship with her would be difficult. many have told her that she’s terrifying and too much to handle, and being in a relationship with someone famous can be a little difficult

there’s so many doubts in xinyan’s mind about how to progress whatever she feels for you, but she tries to ignore them

so, she’s stuck pining after you and watching from afar

until you start showing up to her shows, standing out in the crowd as you cheered along

xinyan loves talking to you after her performances, even sneaking away from her fans to find a more quiet and scheduled place for you two to talk (while also failing to make it seem extremely platonic and normal)

after a few more concerts and private talks, xinyan decides that it’s now time to go big or go home!

she plays you a song she’s been working on, shyly making eye contact with you as she sings each lyric

after the private performance, xinyan just clears her throat and looks away

“So, er, I like you. A lot. I really enjoy talking with you and looking at you and agh- you make me feel nice! Could we go out for lunch sometime? I know this really nice restaurant in Liyue that I’ve been dying to try.”

the letters were supposed to be a secret

yanfei only wrote them because she needed to do something about these feelings she harboured for you

writing them distracted her from the piles of stressful paperwork waiting on the corner of her desk

and it was actually really nice to just... express her love in secret

but her secret was exposed when a tired yanfei accidentally swapped out her important documents for hu tao with letters about you

one large grin on hu tao’s face made yanfei realize her mistake

she really did try snatching them back, but hu tao was relentless and her spear was useful to keep yanfei away

“you have a thing for them?! but they’re so-” “i know, it was a shock for me too.”

hu tao takes it upon herself to play matchmaker and give yanfei the courage to send out one of the letters to you

yanfei isn’t sure about it at all but as long as she left it as anonymous, it wouldn’t hurt right?

it actually... doesn’t, which surprised yanfei. perhaps sending you a few more wouldn’t hurt either?

but after a few more months of this, yanfei is longing for you so badly

although this time of loving you from afar will have a special place in her heart, she hopes that you’ll find a home in her heart alongside them

so, she confesses to you when she next sees you alone

“I can’t believe I’m actually saying this aloud but... I like you, a lot. I like you so much that I wrote and sent you love letters in secret. But I don’t want my feelings for you to be a secret anymore and... and I want to love you openly.” 

hu tao is determined to not let anyone know about her crush on you

she’s not embarrassed that she likes you! far from it actually!

it’s just that hu tao may or may not have involved herself into other’s peoples love lives and just knows they will try to get revenge

so she goes all out when she writes love letters in secret

the handwriting is never quite the same, but each letter picks up from the last one... which is the only clue you have that they’re all from the same person

hu tao NEVER leaves any space for a signature, just so she isn’t tempted to scribble down her name after a very loving letter

she writes by candlelight in her room at odd hours of the night or early morning

and most importantly, she drops off the letters in the middle of the night (right around closing time) at the post office, covered in a nice cloak

hu tao really makes an effort for no one to know it’s kind of scary

but APPARENTLY her efforts have been for nothing because her friends know about her big crush on you

she’s pleading with them to not say anything, offering coupons and discounts galore

but zhongli and yanfei, two of her most recent victims, don’t let her live it down

they encourage her to make a move, offering her kind words and assurances

but hu tao doesn’t budge

so, with no other obvious choice, zhongli marches down to find you as yanfei distracts hu tao

when you come around the corner, with zhongli shortly behind you, hu tao realized something was up

especially with that cute look of disbelief on your face

yanfei and zhongli bounce out of there as you stare at hu tao, waiting

“What did Zhongli tell you? What? No, this isn’t a prank! I would never do anything that mean to anyone, especially you. I genuinely like you, and want to spend a lot more time together... if you’d let me, that is.”

poor girl went to cloud retainer first

she was just so confused on why she felt so fuzzy yet numb around you, and was concerned that there was something wrong with her

did she have some hidden urge to hurt you? was that why she was feeling this way? but that didn’t make any sense, you have yet to hurt her-

while she explains, cloud retainer has the biggest smirk on her face (beak?)

as soon as shenhe finishes, she just chuckles at her apprentice

i will say that cloud retainer did try to help shenhe process these feelings, asking the right questions and everything

but nothing she said really got through to shenhe, except for one suggestive

“you must really like this mortal if you can wear your earrings and still feel something.”

and suddenly it just clicks for shenhe

she is relieved, of course. but what does she do with these feelings?

cloud retainer turns her towards ganyu, mumbling something about her having more experience with mortals and their “strange” habits

shenhe is surprised when ganyu is excited to help her. she barely manages to write down all of the half-qilin’s romantic ideas, some of them making her raise her eyebrows as she writes them out

most of them aren’t things that shenhe would normally do, at all. but one idea on the list catches her interest

when shenhe writes, it is a delicate, elegant, and long process

she needs a whole afternoon to write out a good letter because of how long it takes

but they always end up looking perfect

shenhe actually delivered the letter directly to you, a neutral expression in her eyes and on her face

“this is for you.” “oh, thank you, shenhe. is this from you?” a pause. “no, it was a mistake by the mailing service.” “oh, alright, thank you, shenhe-” 

girl is out of there before you can blink

she HATED lying to you, mostly because it was hard to come up with a convincing enough lie

but you’ve caught on who your “secret” admirer was by the third or fourth letter delivery. like, there’s no way that the post office can make that many mistakes in a row

when you confront shenhe about it, she literally freezes for a long moment and stares off in the distance

but after you wave your hands in front of her beautiful eyes, shenhe slowly responds 

“You were not supposed to find out this quickly. Although, I am glad you did. I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while; I like you. I want to... do what mortals do when they love each other. If... if you love me back, that is.”

god she’s so sweet

whenever yun jin is writing a letter and she’s stuck on what to compliment you on (because she can’t just say “i love everything about you” now can she), she looks to any past yun-han operas

while looking, she actually rediscovers this sweet opera about the life of two people who are madly in love with each other but aren’t sure if the other is too

obviously, it hits yun jin in all the right places (even making her tear up as she reads through the script) and really does inspire her

yun jin now wants to revisit this opera and host it... and she does

it takes a lot of work, of course. but it’s so fun and she involves a lot of other people in it, even having some auditions for supporting cast (like, all of liyue is pretty excited about it)

the letters she sends leading up to opening day are much more sweet and promising

the very last letter she sends before the show includes a nice voucher for nice seats (a gift from me to you, my dear.), praying that you’ll show up 

and when she sees you in front, dressed up nicely for the occasion, yun jin beams from behind the stage

she put her whole heart into that performance because you showed up

although, she couldn’t dismiss the disappointed look on your face after the show

yun jin slips away from all her adoring fans, praising her work and talent (a.k.a. all the hard work she put into it all smh), and follows after you

“are you okay? you looked a little disappointed after the show.” “oh, uh, yeah, i’m fine. i was just hoping to see the person who reserved the seat fot me. that’s all.”

you’re surprised that she’s taken such an interest in your opinion. doesn’t the renowned stage lucida have somewhere else to be?

yun jin feels bad for getting your hopes up, honestly. she realizes that the letter might have leaded on to a meet up...which is what techinically happened but- which makes her feel worse

as you make way to leave, slightly embarassed for being so personal with yun jin, you feel a gentle hand take your wrist

without thinking, yun jin lets the next few words (her confession) fall out of her mouth

“I reserved that seat for you. And I wrote the letters. I’m the one who really likes you. I’m the one who wrote the sweet compliments about your eyes and your laughter. I... I’m the one who really likes you. And I’m scared to ask this, but... do you like me too?”

ganyu had always found the idea of writing love letters romantic

from all her time in liyue, she has heard countless stories of young romance and writing love letters

it was actually pretty common for the sailors to send letters back home to their sweethearts on longer voyages (although, they usually got back before the letter got home)

the stories were quite inspiring, even if ganyu’s love life was quiet

until you came along!

she finds herself a flustered mess around you and letting herself day dream about the two of you together

you’ve captured her heart effortlessly and unknowingly! well done

ganyu does want to act on these feelings though

although she’s a little timid to actually confess to you, writing love letters is a nice alternative for ganyu

it is stressful for her to write the letters and then deliver them. the last thing she wants is for you to find out it’s her that’s sending the letters

the way you react to the letters is just too cute for ganyu to reveal herself! even if you ask a bunch of questions afterwards

she never answers truthfully either, always providing weak excuses that make you raise your brow

but after one day of tiring work, she slips up and lets the words fall from her lips

“The person who’s been sending you all these love letters? It’s me. W-wait, did I really just say that aloud? Ah! J-just forget I said anything, please. Unless... unless you feel the same way about me?”

it wasn’t actually his idea to write you love letters

xiao was fine with just watching you from afar, really. he could spend all day watching you mingle with verr goldet and was content to experience you from afar (although a since of longing often plagued him afterwards)

however, huai’an caught xiao in one of his staring sessions and he has yet to live it down

huai’an was incredibly happy for him! he was just so excited that xiao found someone he liked, and huai’an had the perfect ideas to set you and xiao up!

confess to them! “no.” ask them on a date! “no.” give them flowers! “no.” write them a love letter!  “no.” anonymously?  “...fine.” 

xiao was extremely flustered whenever he wrote the letters. it also takes a lot of confidence from him to sneak down and deliver them to verr who would then hand them to you

he wants to say so much about you, but it’s so difficult when it all sounds like huai’an whenever he gets lovey dovey

and yes, they weren’t the most romantic letters and often times were extremely confusing to read

but these unexpected anonymous love letters were still a pleasant surprise to you! (from what xiao saw, anyway)

however, one time xiao wasn’t as sneaky as he thought he was when handing off the love letter to verr goldet

because just at that moment you came down the stairs and recognised the letter in his hands

xiao just fucking DISAPPEARS as soon as he makes eye contact with you, taking the love letter with him

it’ll take a few days before he comes out of hiding, using those days to build up the courage to speak to you directly

“I’m only going to say this once, so please listen carefully. I... I really like you and I want to spend some time with you. Would... would you like that too?”

baizhu’s illness leaves him bed-ridden pretty often

to the point where he can only visit his pharmacy every few weeks, bringing important documents and herbs with him

however, between all the important documents and herbs are love letters addressed to a special someone

you’re one of the most helpful souls baizhu has met, often accompanying qiqi when she needs to collect herbs. how could he not fall for you when you care so much about her? seriously

although it’s no secret that baizhu is the one who writes the letters, he finds it more amusing to leave the letters anonymous

even if he spends days writing them, hoping that his compliments and romantic metaphors aren’t too cheesy 

the amount of crumbled up letters in his waste basket is concerning, tbh

but baizhu’s favorite part of this whole process is the look on your face when you receive these letters

he even goes as far as handing the letters directly to you, making an off hand comment about someone dropping them off at the pharmacy

baizhu thinks he’s so slick when you believe the innocent lies

he even gets cocky! putting the love letters on top of the important papers and flowers whenever he comes in

it wasn’t long before baizhu’s confidence made him slip up

how was he supposed to know you would be at the pharmacy earlier than he thought?!

“Ah, well, you see, dear, I just thought it would be more romantic if I... I’m digging myself a deeper grave, aren’t I? Well, while I’m still digging, would you like to go out for dinner sometime?”

thank you for reading 💖 all forms of interaction to my posts are appreciated 💖

[thexanwillshine]

a;lskfjdk

Author: thexanwillshine (twitter, ao3) Pairings: Levi x Hange Cross-Postings: AO3 Notes: made for Day 2: Confessions of Levihan Week 2021

“But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s almost 5:30 in the morning. It could also be because he's tired from lack of sleep. Whatever the case, Levi Ackerman’s filter completely disappears when he asks, “Do you need a demonstration?”

Levi Ackerman can argue that every writer he’s met is always a little bit more eccentric than the average person, but no one proves his theory more than Hange Zoë.

Hange wakes him up in the middle of the night, voice screeching on the phone in her excitement. He responds groggily—as one does when their sleep is disturbed at an ungodly hour by an overly-excited author who acts as if they’ve just found out the answers to the universe—and tries to keep himself sober enough to understand what in the goddamn fuck Hange was talking about this time.

“Levaaiiii,” she says, drawling out his name in a manner that was both annoying and endearing, “I’ve figured it out!”

He can almost imagine the look on her face: starry-eyed in her joy, mouth stretched wide into a grin, fingers shaking as she bounces in glee, shifting her weight from the heels of her feet to the tips of her toes . . .

And Levi exhales in both relief and the tiniest hint of delight, because this is exactly how he wants Hange to be: happy .

Nevertheless, he replies “Figured what out?” snarkily.

Hange’s response comes out quickly, as if she needed to say everything that had to be said in the span of five seconds or less. “So you know how I’ve been trying to write a fiction novel because I wanted to get out of my comfort zone?”

Levi hums in acknowledgement as he fixes the covers over his legs before turning on his bedside lamp. He leans back on the bed frame and closes his eyes to listen to her ramble.

“So I was thinking, I wanted to write a romance novel, because you know how people fall in love and stuff?”

“No Hange, I’ve never heard of that concept in my entire life,” Levi says in a deadpan voice.

Hange laughs, because of course she would know that’s his pathetic attempt at lighthearted conversation. Levi is glad that she knows him better than most people, and it is this sense of familiarity that made him feel particularly comfortable when graced with her presence.

“Just because you’ve never fallen in love before doesn’t mean it’s not real, Levi!” Hange tells him in jest.

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“After all, you’ve probably never wanted to kiss someone your entire life!”

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“Sure, Hange.”

He rolls his eyes at her teasing, because yes, Levi has fallen in love—and maybe, just maybe, he’s still on the road to understanding what it meant to treasure someone far more than just a regular friend.

He shakes off such thoughts before maneuvering Hange back to the initial reason why she had called. “So, what did you want to tell me?”

“I finished,” she proclaims on the phone, her voice proud, “I finished writing the first ten chapters.”

Levi blinks in confusion before sitting straight up, the information processing in his mind that was still a bit drunk with sleep. “You what?” “I couldn’t stop writing,” Hange told him sheepishly, detecting the slightest hint of concern in her editor’s voice, “I’ve been writing for the past 24 or so hours. Maybe more.”

Levi grunts in annoyance, pulling the covers away from his body and jumping out of his unmade bed. He runs a hand through his dark locks, sighing. “Four-eyes, you need to get some sleep.”

“But Levi,” Hange says in protest, “I need you to read my draft. There are some parts I just don’t think are super natural.”

“And I was sleeping like a regular human being,” Levi retorted as he shrugged off his shorts. After that, he put on jeans that he had recently washed before patting down the shirt he was wearing in a pathetic attempt to get rid of the wrinkles that had accumulated while he tossed and turned in bed.

“Oh my gosh, Levi, I didn’t realize the time!” Hange replies, and he can almost feel her guilt starting to set in. “You should go back to sleep,” she immediately adds. “Take care of yourself!”

Levi slips on his rubber shoes and grabs his umbrella before answering. “Coming from you? Not that credible.”

Hange laughs light-heartedly, and his heart flutters just a tiny bit. Levi pushes the feeling away almost as quickly as it had come.

“Have you eaten?” he asks, almost dreading the reply.

There was none.

“Hange,” he calls, but there’s still no response. “Hange. Answer me,” he says firmly, prodding her on. “Have you eaten?”

The laughter that comes out from the other end is nervous. “Woops.”

Levi sighs. He opens his car door and slips inside smoothly, grabbing his keys from his pocket and starting the engine. “Hange, you’re supposed to eat.”

“Sorry,” she tells him honestly. “I really didn’t want to ruin my momentum. I can’t believe I forgot.” She mumbles her second sentence, sounding almost deep in thought. “I’ll go find food now! Want me to email you the working draft? You can look at it in the morning when you wake up.”

“No need,” Levi tells her, placing his phone on his dashboard and accelerating his car. “I’m on the way.”

“Levi!” Hange exclaimed excitedly as she heard her doorbell ring at around four in the morning.

She rushes to the door in delight, opening it to reveal Levi standing in front of her, a paper bag in his hand and a jacket half-heartedly slung over his shoulder.

“Hi,” he greets calmly, before walking inside and letting himself in.

Inwardly, Hange thanks whatever god is out there for her foresight. Her unit was relatively clean since she hadn’t really done anything since Levi’s last visit. The place seemed to pass Levi’s health protocols, since he sat on her couch and placed the paper bag on the table right across from him.

“Eat,” he tells her, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hange grins, before plopping down beside him and opening the paper bag. “What did you get me?”

“You’ll see.”

She raises an eyebrow at his ambiguity, before taking a glimpse inside the paper bag.

The smell of quesadillas immediately fills the room, and Hange lets out a soft squeal, taking out the food from the bag quickly.

“Oh my gosh,” Hange says as she nudges him on the shoulder. “You also got me onion rings! You know me too well, Levi.”

“Unfortunately,” Levi responds sarcastically, and Hange laughs almost automatically.

As Hange hums in glee, picking apart the paper wrapped around the food items, Levi maintains his silence. They stay like that as Hange eats. Every so often, she would comment about how the amount of cheese was perfect and how the onion rings just about melted in her mouth. Levi alternates between watching her eat and scrolls through his phone placidly.

Soon, he chooses to break the silence. “So where’s your draft?”

Hange is munching on her last piece of quesadilla when she glances in his direction. “Oh, it’s on my laptop! I can’t believe I forgot to tell you, this food was just so good.”

Levi stands up and heads on over to Hange’s room, gently pushing the door open and scanning the area for her laptop. On top of her unmade bed was a half open Macbook Pro, which he gently took before returning to his seat beside Hange.

Without hesitation, Levi opens the laptop and inputs the password. For some reason, Hange made it his birthday—1225—because she claimed that no one would guess such a random date. He is greeted with a blaring Google Docs document entitled “a;lskfjdk.”

“Nice title you got there,” he comments, and Hange chuckles.

“I didn’t want to think of a title yet, okay!” Hange pouts, and Levi nudges her foot gently in an attempt to comfort her from his own teasing.

He scans the document first before reading it. Hange is a good writer, but fiction is an entirely new genre for her. Immediately, he notices common habits from writing research papers leak into her new work: overexplaining, using words that are too formal for her target audience, sentences a little bit void from emotion.

He takes note of these comments on her notes app before going over her draft again, this time more meticulously than he had done previously. During this time, Hange finishes eating, wraps her trash and tosses them all inside the paper bag before standing up and dumping the entire thing inside her garbage bin.

“Levi,” she calls as she washes her hands through the sink faucet. Levi gives her the smallest hint that he’s listening by raising his eyebrow, but he doesn’t take his gaze away from her laptop. “I’m going to take a shower,” she announces, and he waves his hand dismissively.

Hange smiles to herself. Levi is always nagging her whenever she would accidentally hyperfixate on her writing, but he acts the same way when reading her works.

When Hange stepped inside the shower, Levi was already conducting a deep dive in her third chapter. The gears in his head slowly begin to turn as he begins to analyze her work.

The story revolved around the tales of the people who went to the clinic. The first chapter was a brief introduction on who the main characters were: There’s Janelle, a bright-eyed psychologist whose passion influenced the people around her. Together with El and Bea, her trusted assistants studying under her guidance, they would aid the people who went to the Hopiatria Clinic seeking care.

Meanwhile, the second chapter featured a child who felt as if she was being blamed for the death of her mother by her father. Her mother had died in a plane crash shortly after the young girl wished that her mom could go home on her sixth birthday. Janelle talks to the child gently while El and Bea provide emotional support, offering the child toys and biscuits whenever the need arises.

The third chapter was trickier, and it was there that Levi noticed a twist in Hange’s writing. The story revolved around a boy busy getting her doctorate, and a young girl who had been in love with him ever since they were in college. It’s the young girl who comes to Janelle’s office, and she relays the tale of her unrequited childhood romance to the psychologist.

The young girl is passionate, and wanted to take a step forward in order to guide her towards falling out of love with her best friend. Janelle presents two suggestions: (1) confession, while being fully-open to the possibility of rejection, and (2) accepting rejection without confession. The young girl decides to go with the first option, but to her surprise, the boy returns her feelings.

Everything seemed well-written up until the end of the chapter, where Hange had written,

And then they kissed.

Levi scrolled down the page, tilting his head to the side in slight confusion. That’s it? He thought, trying to find the rest.

Everything had been so well-described; from the girl’s internal turmoil—caused by her fear of destroying their friendship and the pain that came with unrequited love—to the boy confessing his own emotions for her.

The ending was anticlimactic, to say the least.

As he blinked at the google document in confusion, already typing out his comment on her notes app, Hange emerged from the bathroom. Her hair was loose on her shoulders, wet from her shower. Wrapped around her waist is his bathrobe, which she had borrowed from him long ago and never bothered to return it.

Levi scoffs as he glances in her direction. Here she was, parading with the cloth on and rubbing that specific fact in his face.

“Hey,” Hange greeted, smiling as she ran a hand through her brown locks, “How’s the reading going?”

“It was okay until the third chapter,” Levi says honestly, pointing the laptop screen in her direction. “The ending’s anticlimactic.”

Hange hummed, pursing her lips together. “Yeah. I didn’t really know how to end it,” she tells him as she opens her cabinet and grabs a few pieces of clothing. “Give me a bit, I’m going to change.”

She disappears into her room and Levi focuses on her story, trying to think of a way to spur Hange on and perhaps actively improve the ending’s writing.

Hange emerges in a loose t-shirt (which was, once again, his) and shorts. She sits down right beside him, leaning over his shoulder to glance at her laptop and read the specific line that particularly irked Levi.

“It’s that one, right?” Hange asks, pointing at the last sentence. “And then they kissed.”

“Yeah,” Levi responds, shaking his head. “Everything was so well-written up ‘till that point. You were able to describe the emotions perfectly, and the narration’s not that bad . . save for a few paragraphs that maybe should’ve stayed in your research papers.”

Hange chuckles. “Old habits die hard,” she responds, before taking her Macbook from his lap and transferring it to hers. “So what should I write?”

Levi shrugs. “I’m just your editor. You’re the writer.”

Hange pouts. “Yeah, but I don’t know how to make this better.”

“Maybe describe the scene more,” Levi suggests. “Everything ended so abruptly. Every emotion you’ve created and built disappeared in that one line.”

She nods in agreement. “But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s almost 5:30 in the morning. It could also be because he's tired from lack of sleep. Whatever the case, Levi Ackerman’s filter completely disappears when he asks, “Do you need a demonstration?”

Hange’s eyes shoot open immediately, and Levi’s face turns red just as quickly.

“F-Forget it,” he says, interrupting her just when he saw Hange open her mouth to speak. Any semblance of calm in his body disappears immediately, and his heart starts pounding against his chest in a rhythm that reminds him too much of a beating drum.

Hange, however, looks elated.

“You want to kiss me?” she tells him in excitement, blinking at him. “I’d like that. It could help me write this scene, you know.”

Levi looks away. “It was just a spur of the moment question.”

“So, you’re not going to kiss me?”

He actively avoids her gaze because he can already see from his peripheral vision that she looks sad, disappointed even. He grunts in response, closing his eyes and focusing his attention on a random spot on the wall.

“Oh,” Hange replies, “Well, I thought it was a good idea.”

Contrary to popular belief, Levi does want to kiss Hange. More than anything.

There were many reasons why: Because she looks so handsome and beautiful at the same time, and her very smile could light up any room she’d walk into. Because she says his name in the most endearing way. Because she understands his flaws. Because she has one of the kindest hearts he’s ever seen. Because she welcomes him with open arms, not a single thread of hesitation in her mind.

Most of all, it was simply because she was Hange.

He steals a glance in her direction, and she’s slightly fiddling with the hem of his shirt, her head downcast. Her sad expression tugs at hi

Levi thinks he’s already in this too deep, so he decides to speak.

“Did you want me to kiss you?”

From his periphery, he sees her look up at him so quickly he thought her neck would break. “What would you do if I said yes?”

He doesn’t dare turn his head in her direction when he replies quietly, “What do you think?”

“Would you kiss me?” Hange asks inquisitively, tilting her head to the side.

Levi’s heart skips a beat.

“Maybe,” he says in a voice barely above a whisper. “If you’d let me.”

Hange is silent for a moment, and Levi thinks this is it, I’m going to be rejected, but he feels a gentle finger touch his chin and turn his head in Hange’s direction.

He is met with her brown orbs, shining just a bit in what seemed like hidden glee. He cocks an eyebrow at her then, confused.

“I’m letting you,” Hange says, laughing. “Kiss me, I mean.” Her face is already slowly nearing his, and he can almost see the way her thick lashes brushed against her skin.

Slowly, Levi raises his head just a tiny bit and responds against her lips, “Okay.”

Hange smiles and closes the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his neck as he does the same around her waist. She tastes like the peppermint of her toothpaste, smells like his shampoo (which he had kept in her apartment since he always found himself staying over), and felt warm as her skin made contact with his. Hange's lips are gentle, slow, and a little shy—so different from how she usually is. Levi knows it’s because she doesn’t want to scare him off, so he makes the first move and nips at her lower lip, taking it between his teeth and sucking it gently.

She lets out a moan, and Levi takes this as a sign to continue. He slides his hand over her back, and she shudders and deepens the kiss at the same time. Her tongue meets his, and they battle for dominance. Hange’s hand sweeps over his undercut and pushes him towards him, and it is then that he lets out a sound that vaguely resembles pleasure.

After a few minutes, Hange whispers “Levi,” as her lips make contact with his. He hums in response, pulling his lips away from her and connecting his forehead with hers.

“Hange,” he says, breathless.

“Is this you telling me you like me?” Hange asks, closing her eyes.

He doesn’t form a reply through words, but he nods and closes his eyes as well.

“Great,” Hange tells him, pecking his lips with her own. “Because I like you too. Ever since I met you, I’ve liked you. Even though you were so rude to me on the first day of college.”

He chuckles silently in relief, pulling her closer to him before placing his chin on her shoulder. “Think you’ll be able to write the ending now that you know what a kiss feels like?”

Hange laughs, and it vibrates against his shoulder as she hugs him tighter. “It’s exhilarating. I probably wouldn’t be able to put into words how good I feel that you like me back.”

“Try,” Levi teases.

“Well . . . you know that alternative title I wrote for the fictional novel?”

Levi’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “The keyboard smash?”

Hange nods. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I feel like right now.”

a;lskfjdk.

[wkemeup]

I’ve been wanting to do something as a way to give back to the incredibly lovely people who have supported me in my writing, so I landed on hosting a new writing challenge! I haven’t been able to do as much reading on here lately, so I thought this would be a great opportunity to promote my fellow writers and share to an audience who have been so endlessly supportive! 

Rules: 

No need to ‘claim’ prompts! Let me know if you plan to participate and which prompt you’re going with if you’d like (because I’m nosy and excited)! Its not necessary though! Please reblog for signal boost ✨

This is meant to be a way to give back to my followers, so I’d ask that you’d be one of them, but I'm not requiring it. New friends are welcome! 

No limit on number of people per prompts and you can do as many as you’d like! :) 

Open to all Marvel characters and genres including fluff, angst, smut, AUs (*no non/con, dark, or underage) 

Use a ‘read more’ if over 500 words 

Tag @wkemeup and use #kas9kwc when you post your fic! Please send me a message or ask as well because I often lose notifications and may not see it! 

Include your prompt selection in the summary or a/n of your fic. 

Have fun and I can’t wait to see what you do with these prompts!  

Due May 29th 2021 if you’d like to be included in the master list! Otherwise, feel free to join and post whenever! 

Fluff Prompts 

✿ Character A initiates a prank war against Character B. Character B enlists Character C to help get revenge. 

✿ Character A accidentally ends a phone call to Character B with “I love you”  

✿ The moment Character A realizes they love Character B and it’s during the most simple, mundane moment 

✿ Character A reaches out to wipe away something at the edge of Character B’s lip and their thumb lingers longer than intended. Slowly, they lift their gaze to meet [B]’s. They suddenly realize how quiet it is.  

✿ Character A steps out of the elevator carrying paperwork piled up above their eyesight only to run directly into Character B. Papers go flying. Hands touch as they pick up the last folder. 

✿ Character A is feeling insecure about how they look. When Character B asks what’s wrong, [A] attempts to explain but [B] is genuinely confused because they can’t imagine a world in which [A] is anything but perfect. 

✿ Character A leaves an embarrassing, drunk message on Character B’s voicemail and spends the rest of the night trying to discreetly delete it from [B]’s phone.  

✿ Character A finds out Character B was stood up on a date. [A] is determined to show [B] what a real first date should look like.  

✿ Character A runs a flower shop downtown. Character B is terribly allergic to flowers. 

✿ Character A calls Character B in the middle of the night crying - something they’ve never done before. They’re several states away. [B] gets in the car without hesitation and drives to wherever they are. 

Angst (with a happy ending 🤞🏻) Prompts  

✮ Character A cleans Character B’s wounds after a rough mission. [A]’s fingers linger over scarred muscle as they finish wrapping the bandage.  

✮ Character A is the target of harassment on the street. Shamed, they pretend it doesn’t bother them. Until it happens in the presence of Character B, who reigns hell on whoever dared to upset [A] 

✮ The moment Character A realizes they love Character B and it’s during the most dangerous, inconvenient moment 

✮ Character A is being held hostage. Character B offers to trade themself in [A]'s place.  

✮ Character A is royally pissed off at Character B for being reckless on a mission. They don’t realize until after that amongst the screaming match, [A] confessed that they loved [B]. 

✮ Character A’s current boyfriend/girlfriend/partner mocks Character B for their crush on their best friend, [A]. [B], feeling humiliated, withdraws from the friendship with [A], who is completely oblivious [B] has feelings for them. 

✮ Believing they’re about to die, Character A confesses their feelings for Character B before they pass out.  

✮ Character A has a nightmare that ends up physically harming Character B. [A] refuses to sleep in the same room as [B] again in fear of it happening again.  

✮ Character A is possessed/controlled and attempts to harm Character B. [B] refuses to fight back in fear of hurting [A].  

✮ Character A is studying a fresh, nasty scar in the mirror. Character B approaches from behind, eyes drawn to the wound, an unreadable mix of anger and fear in their eyes as they say, “who did this to you?”  

Kas’ Favorite Artists Prompts

Dermot Kennedy – The Killer Was A Coward  See there's a hero in the crowd / and his heart starts beating loud / Says the killer took his friend / And decides that this is where it ends 

Pheobe Bridgers – Chinese Satellite  I've been running around in circles / Pretending to be myself / Why would somebody do this on purpose / When they could do something else? 

Taylor Swift – This Is Me Trying  I've been having a hard time adjusting / I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting / I didn't know if you'd care if I came back / I have a lot of regrets about that 

Hozier – Better Love  And I’ve never loved a darker blue / than the darkness I have known in you, honed in you 

The 1975 – Me & You Together Song  I've been in love with her for ages / And I can't seem to get it right / I fell in love with her in stages / My whole life 

Bleachers – Wake Me  If you're lonely lonely lonely wake me / I can't believe I captured your heart 

The Lumineers – Life in the City And if the sun don't shine on me today / And if the subways flood and bridges break / Will you just lay down and dig your grave? / Or will you rail against your dying day? 

Mumford and Sons – Delta  When it feels like nothing else matters / Will you put your arms around me? 

[deberiaestarescribiendo]

Fools who dream #Writer Wednesday 07/28/21 Javier Peña x f!reader

For #Writer Wednesday created by @autumnleaves1991-blog and tagging @clydesducktape that creates the masterlist every week. Thank you for the amazing work to both of you!!

Paring: Javier Peña xf!reader (addressed as you/she)

Summary: Long time ago, Javier met a girl full of dreams living a hard life. One day, driving around town he finds out that maybe, dreams do come true.

Warnings: smoking, swearing, +18 SMUT not very descriptive sex but it’s there, allutions to prostitution.

A/N: This is the lovechild of: me being angsty, listening to Lalaland’s soundtrack, and rereading a novella I wrote a long time ago about an escort girl that I was planning to rewrite (I thought that it could be an interesting Javi’s fic, but I don’t know). So to conclude: a mess, voilá! bear in mind, there’s mention of sexwork and we respect sexworkers in this house.

Sorry for any mistakes and bad grammar!!

Fools who dream

She turns and faces the camera, they make a dramatic zoom on her while the orquestra rises in a beautiful romantic crescendo. With pink parted lips she smiles at the protagonist, her eyes glow and shyly she lowers her gaze.

Back to the male lead he’s looking at her like there’s nobody else in the room, the camera blurs everything except his face and hers. Love, romance.

The movie was not really interesting until the moment she appeared. Same old story about a guy in search of that perfect girl, his life is miserable; making him fall into very comedic and not very surprising adventures and misfortunes on a very normal life up until she appears and then she shows him the meaning of life and live life to the fullest or some bullshit.

Javi didn’t pay a ticket for a good story, fuck he didn’t even read the plot before buying it. But he saw the sign while he was waiting at the traffic light, the local drive-in cinema and its yellow lights against the night presenting:

The right one (or something like that) starring some guy and then her name.

So he drove in and asked for a ticket, probably looking a bit weird being just a guy alone buying just one ticket to a romantic comedy surrounded by couples. It looks fucking sad, Peña he thought. But he has to see her, he has to see if it is true.

“Hi”

she says on the screen and it takes him away from his thoughts. Hearing that voice again after many years hits him so differently. To think that those sweet lips moaned and called his name pressed against his skin, so close that he can almost feel the heat of her body on him in his cold lonely car.

The guy smiles at her and makes a fool of himself gaining a sweet giggle from her. And it reminds him of the times she danced in his apartment or made fun of him for being such a grump.

Deja de fruncir el ceño, Javi, que se te va a quedar así (Stop frowning, Javi, or it’s gonna stay like that) she used to say, brushing her index finger over her nose giggling just like now in the movie.

She said something back, but he’s not listening. Javier just puts the words he remembers she said to him on her lips. A fantasy within a fantasy.

What is more real? those intimate moments years ago or him watching her on a movie alone in his car?

He has lost the plot, but who cares? She laughs and pushes the protagonist's hand to the empty streets of New York and the lights shine on them, and as the world perfectly bends to lovers in movies, it starts raining and she receives the drops with open arms and a wide grin. And they kiss, a perfect one, soft lips over the other. Nothing like the kisses they shared

Their kisses were hungry, knowing that they were borrowed and paid in time, rushed sometimes, others slowly and messy pouring all the heat and the pain and the adrenaline in which he lived in those years.

Now he wishes he could have kissed her once last time, just like that, softly, the world far away from them. Perfect just like a movie.

The audience claps rejoicing in this celebration of love, some young couples are celebrating love in some different kind of way, the movie merely an excuse to have some time alone under the stars.

And Javier is suddenly aware of his loneliness of the empty space by his side, he’s the antonym of what he’s seeing on screen, of having the luck of finding the one and being delighted in love.

He could’ve been in love, once. He certainly felt something growing and shattering the hard shield he had on his chest when they were together.

And now watching her mimic those feelings, those desires, he feels jealous, of what? he doesn’t know, it’s not like they had a chance...did they?

Colombia, 1984

“You’re going to laugh” you say the fan above your head blows waves of hot air that still smell of sex and the cigarette Javi’s smoking languidly over the window.

He has barely put his jeans on, the zip and top button undone. He looks tired, the dark circles under his eyes are way more visible today than ever. You can even see the weight on his shoulders, he’s hunching, his neck curved down as he smokes.

He doesn’t say but you know there’s something bothering him, he’s quieter than usual, rougher.

He called you late in the evening, paid a taxi to get you to his house and you barely made it to the door when he grabbed you by your hips and pressed his body against yours. The kiss was ardent, his tongue invading your mouth in a mix of coffee, whiskey and smoke and need. You tried to push him and talk, just maybe say hello how was your day but he whimpered, he’s dark eyes pleading while he caressed your cheeks. And you let him, you know what he needed so you said nothing when he impatiently fisted your skirt up your navel and pushed your panties to the side so he could bury himself in you.

Covered in the dim lights of the scarce traffic in the middle of the night, silent apart from the rhythmic thumps of your hips hitting the door and both of your whispers and moans, Javier performed his usual rite of expelling his demons away on you. Each thrust, each second he was in you, the world became nothing, just white noise, there was only you and the primal need of achieving pleasure skin against skin.

Your soft voice, those sweet lips gasping brushing against his ear, he thinks it’s the only time he likes to hear his name being called or actually being aware of himself. With you there’s no Javier running to and from monsters and there’s no brutality or violence.

There’s only your soft hands locked on his neck, fingers curled in his hair and when you smile at him, eyes up the sky, lost in pleasure, he feels good and the world seems a little bit better.

“I even didn’t offer some water before…” he said after he recovers his breath still inside you

“I’ve never had a warmer welcome in my life, Javi, it’s alright” you laugh with legs trembling

“Still” he kissed your wrists and held you close, walking slowly towards the bedroom.

You barely made some small talk before his eyes grew darker, lost in something that chokes him, and he quietly covers you with his big body

“I just need to make love to you...please” he said with his forehead on yours. And here you are, body exhausted and numb, cooling the sweat with the sweet waves of air from the fan.

“I won’t laugh at you” he answers resuming the conversation, you were lost in your thoughts but when you look at him, you see he watches you intently and you believe him

“I mean it’s so cliche how I ended up doing this...it’s ridiculous” you shake your head

None of your clients has ever asked you about how you ended up doing this. None of them are really interested in you anyway, they prefer a fantasy, a character. But not Javi, and that scares you. He sees right through you.

“I wanted to get out of my small town, I had big dreams, big plans” you smile “I came to the city and I tried and tried to succeed but...well, long story short, a friend proposed it once and the money was too tempting”

“What did you want to do in the first place?” Javi approaches the bed. His skin shines against the moonlight, his disheveled hair makes him looks younger

“Now you’re going to really laugh” you cover your face with one of his pillows

“C’mon tell me” he smirks squeezing your tight

“I wanted to be an actress, do novelas, films, everything” you shyly confess. For a moment, you don’t look at him, expecting him to chuckle at your stupid little dream, but seconds pass and he doesn’t

“ I think you could do it” Javi’s hands draw small circle over you hip bones

“You think?” you bite your lip

“I do” he shifts position, resting his back on the bed and you open your legs so he can rest his head over your belly “Would you send me a dedicated picture once you made it?” you brush his hair out of his face and you see he’s smiling

“Of course, To my very first fan, who always believed in me” you wave your hand over the imaginary paper “And a kiss just under it”

“Would frame it and put it in my office...nah” he shakes his head “I put it right here” he motions towards the nightstand “I don’t want my colleagues greasy hands over my picture”you laugh out loud at his comment

“Sure, so you can dream about me” you joke stealing his cigarette and smoking a long drag

Present day

You don’t know how many times he has dreamt about you.

How many times that stupid movie has played in his house late at night, he bought it, foolish at it may seem, he has rewatch every frame, stopping to admire you.

You look happy now, your sweet eyes shine more and he’s happy, really is, that you have made it, but deep down, he wonders, as much as it makes he’s heart ache, Do you think about him? surely you don’t.

Probably you left that part of your life buried somewhere in Colombia. You changed your name, your past, everything, how could you think about him?

You’re probably living your best life, full of glamour, opportunities opening just in front of your eyes. How could you remember him?

You don’t (surely) so he has to content himself with the fiction. He replays that scene where you turn to the camera, smiling

Hi

and just for a second, he thinks, he dreams, it’s for him.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Notting Hill AU Snippet #8

"It happened. Feel it, and let it go."

Her therapist's words are easier said than done. Lena does her best, she really does, but every time she almost feels over Kara Danvers, she sees a film trailer or a tabloid headline and her world spirals again.

It's silly. Lena knows she shouldn't be so affected. She only knew Kara Danvers for a few days across a few weeks, but then again... as her therapist likes to say: Lena never learned how to love half way.

When news of a nude photo scandal breaks, Lena finds out about it with the rest of the world, but instead of watching in sick fascination, Lena feels only horror for the woman behind it all. Her heart, broken though it is, goes out to Kara, and the devastation she must be going through. Because Lena more than anyone else knows how carefully crafted Kara's image is, how carefully precise every word and movement is lest she lose the love of the audience and the industry itself.

But as much as Lena might want to, she doesn't call. She doesn't write. She doesn't even know if Kara is in Britain at all, until one morning there's a knock on her front door.

There, with an overnight bag, is Kara.

Her eyes are hidden behind large sunglasses, and her arms are crossed over her chest, tight with anxiety. Before Lena can think to do anything otherwise, she wordlessly steps aside to invite Kara into her flat.

"Thank you," Kara murmurs. Her voice quivers, her jaw clenched against brimming tears. Lena briefly scans the street outside before closing the door, relieved to find it empty of press.

They slowly migrate to the kitchen, where Kara pauses, uncertain of what to do next.

"Tea?" Lena offers.

Kara nods faintly. Over tea, the situation Lena had avoided reading about about in the tabloids comes spilling out as Kara vents, finally able to explain to someone-- anyone-- who would listen.

"I was young, and I was angry, and... and you want to know the saddest part? I enjoyed that shoot! It was one of the healthiest, most open working environments I'd ever been in. The level of trust, and respect... god-- they talked to me like a person, and I just-- for the first time, it felt like I had complete agency. Except I didn't, because they also filmed it, which they didn't tell me, and now... now my entire career, the only thing I've ever done in my entire life, might be over."

Lena listens to it all. She can't offer anything more than that. She doesn't know what to say, even if she could speak under the weight of being in Kara's presence again. Kara fills the entire room, even dressed down in jeans and a trim sweater.

The hurt of their last parting feels a million miles away for the first time since it happened, and all Lena wants to do is kiss her.

"What does your boyfriend think?" Lena blurts softly.

Kara blinks, staring at her. "I don't know," she confesses silently. "I haven't heard from him since before... I don't even know if I have a boyfriend anymore. I didn't even really know I had one then, until he showed up in my hotel room."

She pauses, finally meeting Lena's. "I am so sorry for what happened. I wanted to call so many times, I just-- I just didn't know what to say. And now-- now I'm invading your home like--"

"It's okay," Lena assures her, heading her off at the pass. She rises, taking Kara's hands in hers and offering a reassuring squeeze. "I'm glad you're here, and that you're safe."

Blinking away tears, Kara nods, sniffling.

"What do you need?" Lena asks. "Food, nap, bath...?"

"A bath sounds... really nice right now. And food. And a nap. Maybe in that order?"

Lena smiles. "Okay. We can do that."

---

After Kara's bath, they chat quietly over Notting Hill's finest fish and chips. It feels like no time has passed at all, like they didn't ever part that night at the hotel. Lena revels in it, and in the fact that Kara's nap is taken resting against her shoulder as Lena reads on the couch.

Her therapist would be so disappointed in her.

There's no boundary Lena could throw between them that Kara isn't already well past, and Lena finds she simply doesn't want to. As dangerous as she knows it is, she enjoys their time together. She's addicted to it, like a moth to flame.

The first night, Lena gives Kara her bed, and sleeps on the couch. The second night, after a day filled with running lines for Kara's next project, Lena's awoken from a light doze by a creak on the stair. Despite having a flatmate, Lena instinctively knows it's not Querl, and meets Kara at the foot of the stair.

"Is everything all right?" she asks.

In the dark, Kara nods, a dark shape bobbing in the shadows. "Yes, I-- I just wanted to say thank you. For everything you've done for me. I know you have no reason to help--"

Lena leans in and kisses her. Before her brain can catch up, Kara is kissing her back, burying her hands in Lena's tangled hair before slipping down to brush the edge of Lena's breast through the fabric of her tank top.

Lena covers the exploring hand, pressing it in place against her chest before it could go any further.

"Do you want this?" is all she asks.

Kara nods again, this time their noses brushing at the tips. "Yes," she breathes. "I want you."

----

Waking up in the morning, Lena feels as though she's still dreaming. Her body aches pleasantly, and today the sunlight streaming through her windows falls softly on the figure fast asleep beside her.

Kara Danvers' features are soft in sleep, unschooled for the first time Lena's ever seen. She looks younger, and impossibly more beautiful-- until Kara shifts, and wakes with a smile that puts Lena's previous observations to shame.

"Hi," Kara whispers.

"Hi," Lena whispers back. "Sweet dreams?"

"Mmmmmm," Kara hums, rolling to face her. "Remind me."

Lena obliges with a kiss, ignoring the sour taste of morning breath. Her hand cups Kara's jaw, her thumb brushing lightly against a soft cheek.

Before long, they're interrupted by a low growl in Kara's belly, prompting Lena to laugh against Kara's lips.

"Message received. Stay here," she urges, slipping out of bed.

She pulls on a pair of boxers and her tank top from the night before, wrinkled from being tossed unceremoniously across the room, before heading downstairs to make breakfast.

Lena barely has the bread in the toaster before warm arms encircle her waist from behind. Soft lips press against the join of Lena's neck, blonde hair tickling her skin. She hums low in her throat.

"I like that," she says. She leans her head against Kara's. "Butter and jam's in the fridge."

Kara grins against her and parts with another kiss, finding her way around Lena's kitchen as though she's always been there. Lena takes in the sight of Kara in one of her old oversized sweaters, barely enough to keep her decent. It's a pleasant sight, Kara's ease. Lena wants it to stick around forever.

Their peace is interrupted a moment later when the doorbell rings.

"I've got it," Lena says. "You stay here and butter the toast."

She hops down the narrow steps to the front hall, and opens the door without a second thought as to who could be behind it.

A barrage of camera shutters clicking and the bright flash of dozens of cameras going off at once stuns her. Blinded, she can barely make out the sea of paparazzi, and the questions she barely hears through the buzz of utter noise.

In the next moment, Lena regains her senses and slams the door shut. The heavy old door does well to muffle the sound, so that when Kara comes traipsing down the steps behind her she doesn't notice the hubbub.

"What is it?"

Before Lena can stop her, a shout on her lips, Kara opens the door and faces the sea of cameras with nothing but a piece of toast in her hand and an old sweater between them.

Kara reacts faster than Lena did, instantly whirling and shutting the door behind her. In that moment, Kara's ease disappears. Her body stiffens and her skin heats with flush of shame.

"They... you..." Kara stammers. She looks at Lena, then glares at her. "You told them I was here?!"

"What? Why would I do that?"

"Well, if it wasn't you, it was that weirdo of a roommate!" Kara exclaims, voice climbing in pitch and volume. "Finally decided to make a quick buck by giving a tip to the tabloids!"

"That's uncalled for," Lena counters. Querl is odd, but he'd only ever been kind to Kara, in his own strange way. "Let's just... let's just breathe for a second--"

"You breathe. I'm leaving."

Without another word, Kara disappears back into the kitchen. After an urgent call to whom Lena can only guess is her publicist, Kara disappears towards the bedroom. Lena gives her space, lingering in the living room long enough for Kara to catch her breath. By the time she finally pokes her head into the bedroom, Kara is already dressed and throwing her items into her overnight bag.

"Kara..."

"Don't. Don't say my name like you know how I feel."

Lena swallows thickly. "I don't... I don't know what to say. I'm sorry they're here, but I'm not sorry you are."

"Well, I am," Kara snaps, snatching her top from the night before and slamming it into her bag. "I never should have come here. I have a boyfriend for Christ's sake!"

Lena freezes, her blood running cold. "You do?"

"As far as they're concerned I do! And now pictures of us are going to be on every paper from here to Star City!!"

Kara lugs her bag over her shoulder and storms out of the room. "And your friend, your friend owes you a nice dinner. Lobster at least, if he's smart enough to get the going rate on betrayal."

"You leave Querl out of this!" Lena snaps, her temper fraying as she chases after Kara. "Okay? I understand that you're upset, and I am too, but we don't know that he has anything to do with this!"

Kara rounds on her with fury in her eyes. "All I know is that they didn't follow me here, and we didn't go anywhere. So if wasn't me, and it wasn't him, who was it? Hm?"

Angry tears burn at the backs of Lena's eyes. She blinks them away, and struggles breathe past the lump in her throat.

"It's okay, Lena," Kara continues firing, "I get it. Okay? It's natural to want your name out there, to drum up business. Come, get a boring book about Egypt from the chick who fucked Kara Danvers!"

The accusation drives all the breath from Lena's body. She stares, and sees the moment Kara realizes she's crossed a line. She softens then, but not enough.

"You may only get fifteen minutes of this, Lena,  but I have had this my entire life. These pictures will last forever. They will follow me FOREVER, and I will regret this forever!"

The doorbell rings, cleaving through the moment of Lena's heartbreak. Surprisingly, Kara doesn't immediately leave, her shock at her own words evident in the gape of her mouth and the tears in her eyes.

Finally, Lena looks away, clearing her throat.

"You don't want to keep your team waiting," she grinds out, her voice full of gravel. It hurts to speak, to breathe, to even look at Kara. But watch she does as Kara's mouth closes to a resolute line before she turns and leaves without looking back.

previous / next

[procrastinatorproject]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Trek: Picard Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Agnes Jurati/Cristóbal Rios Characters: Agnes Jurati, Cristóbal Rios Additional Tags: Meta, Developing Relationship, my take on Agnes and Cris's relationship, and why i think it works, Minor Character Death (Mentioned), Psychological Trauma

Title Inspired by @regionalpancake‘s glorious Downtime Drabble “You’re Light On Me”

A while ago, a friend confessed to me that they didn’t really understand what Agnes Jurati and Cris Rios see in each other. They felt the relationship seemed unmotivated and forced, and they didn’t really see why other people thought it worked.

I’ve seen this sentiment a few times since the show came out, and I’m not here to tell anyone they have to agree with the show-writers’ choices or like a relationship if it doesn’t work for them. But I recently reread the little essay I sent that friend in reply (after making sure they’d want to read it ;9 ), and I really liked it, so I thought I’d share it here.

When people say that the kiss between Agnes Jurati and Cristobal Rios at the end of Star Trek: Picard season 1 blindsided them, I understand where they're coming from. I think the showrunners could have done more to make the developing relationship between these characters truly obvious, but for me, it didn't feel like the mutual attraction between Cris and Agnes came completely out of nowhere. Let me explain.

One of the big things about Rios’s character I find striking is that he wants to be stoic and cynical and misanthropic, but he just... can't do it. He tries! He's short, he hides behind his books, and he pretends he doesn't care about politeness. But the only people he ever swears at are Raffi, a very good friend, and the holos (which are a whole other matter, because there is all this self-loathing tied up in Cris's relationship with them). Over the course of season 1, it's pretty clear that Rios is rather good at reading people, and he wants to do right by them. He defers to Picard pretty much immediately and Soji looks at him pleadingly once and he decides to put his ship at risk for her.

Rios doesn't want to like people, he just can't help himself. He wants to be annoyed by Agnes interrupting his reading, but I think he finds her quirkiness disarming and charming. It's already visible in the way he looks at her on the bridge, when they talk about paper books. And then they go to the holodeck to discuss Picard's detour to Vashti. Since Agnes is the audience stand-in, she asks a bunch of questions, and instead of being annoyed or short, Cris patiently explains everything to her (after offering her a seat). Later, when Cris asks Agnes what she thinks about his outfit for the Stardust City caper and she says he's killing it, there's a beat there. He seems almost a little taken aback, either by her sincerity, or maybe by realizing he values her opinion. It's yet another thing they connect over it. (Also robot boxing. That scene is adorable)

With regards to Agnes… I think partially, she's leaning into her natural humour and quirkiness to appear non-threatening and not give herself away, but I also have another read on her behaviour. (This may partially be me projecting WAY TOO HARD, or, to put it more generously, applying some lived experience to what we see of Agnes's character, so your take on this might be very different. But this is what I see.)

When Agnes and Cris talk before they go off to have sex, Agnes is making jokes and smiling. To me, that doesn’t read as fake or a ploy to manipulate Rios, it seems real. And then when he asks, really asks, how she's feeling, suddenly there is this chasm of pain right under the surface. For me, the idea that Agnes has this intense psychological trauma and is dealing with it by finding joy in little things, like watering the plants, and reading papers, and flirting with the hot captain by completely wrong-footing him with a comment about her dad... it feels very authentic. And I can see how this guy, who pretends to be all uncaring and edgy but is actually a big softie not very far under the surface, and who smiles at her jokes and takes the time to explain stuff to her and listens to her babble, that's a nice distraction from the horrible things happening in her mind. Not in the sense that she's manipulatively using him, but in the sense that this kind of human connection gives her moments of light and gives her reasons to keep going, even through so much pain.

After Agnes kills Maddox, she is deeply, deeply conflicted over what she's done. To the point where when they’re leaving the Artefact, she basically says "I don't care if the world ends if I don't kill Soji. Let it all burn. I just can't do this anymore". And then here is this man, who's kind and caring and, yes, hot, and at first it's "I just want to feel something, anything, and he's here, he's half-naked, he's gorgeous". And Rios isn't necessarily opposed to a no-strings-attached fling. Because he keeps telling himself he doesn't get attached and he hates people and he's only ferrying them around because they're paying him. So it's a distraction with a woman who is quirky and witty and pretty, but it won't mean anything, and that's okay.

And then Agnes changes her mind, because she realizes having sex with Rios will make things more complicated. Or maybe because she thinks Rios deserves better. Or that she shouldn't have sex to distract herself from horrible emotional pain because that's kinda unhealthy.

So she pulls back.

And Rios, instead of being annoyed at missing out or feeling like she led him on, or any number of things, asks her how she's feeling. In a way that makes it clear (at least to me) that he really cares about the answer. And for a moment, Agnes lets him see the true darkness inside her. Because she can pretend it's about Maddox dying, she can pretend it's just about being a lonely nerd. She doesn't have to tell him how bad it really is, but she lets herself feel all of the bad emotions for just a moment.

And then she kisses him again, maybe to shut herself up or to distract herself, or because she needs the connection. And he doesn't have any illusion about what it is they're doing. He knows she's trying to feel better, he essentially tells her he knows it's a way for her to deal with her devastation, and he's okay with it. Maybe because he knows what it's like to feel hollow and terrified and need something, anything to cling to.

And at this point, I think they're both still telling themselves that they don't actually care about each other. Cris because he doesn't want to care about anyone ever again so he won't get hurt. (Which, again, he fails miserably at, but I think that's how he wants to see himself and why he treats his holos with so much disdain that Emil tells Picard "He doesn't get any nicer", even though we see Rios being kind to all the people on board.) And Agnes doesn't really have the brain space to allow herself to fall for anyone. She's just taking little moments of light and human connection where she can get them. And they both decide to have sex as a one-night-stand, just to make Agnes feel better for the night, just because they're both lonely and in pain. No deeper meaning behind it.

And then the whole tracker debacle happens. It takes three days to get to Nepenthe and by the time Agnes goes into a coma, they're still a couple days away at least. She doesn't wake up until Picard is back on board, which means she's out for a long time. Even though we don’t see much of the medical drama, we can assume she was very much at death's door. So, now Rios is faced with once again losing someone he feels somewhat responsible for. Someone he has actually gotten close to. And I think that moment and the fear it causes him might make him start to realize how much he actually cares about her.

And then when Picard and Soji are on board, they all sit down together and figure out the big mystery at the heart of season 1. And here is another thing Cris and Agnes find out they have in common: Both of their lives and minds got destroyed by Oh's machinations. Cris went against everything he believed in when he covered up what Vandermeer had done. He didn't actively kill anyone, but he feels like Vandermeer's death is his fault. His belief in the fundamental goodness of Starfleet was shattered when they threatened to blow up his ship. For Agnes, this kind of shattering of a truth she had clung to comes when she realizes she wasn't acting on the directive of the Head of Starfleet Security in a black-ops mission sanctioned by one of the most important institutions of the Federation. Instead, she was nothing but a pawn, used by Oh for nefarious purposes that had nothing to do with the greater good. The exact circumstances of their traumas are different, but they were both caught up in the same catastrophe and cover-up and it has marked them in similar ways.

I think this is one of the reasons Rios doesn't blame Agnes for killing Maddox. If anything, he gets more protective of her, e.g. by trying to stop Sutra from forcing another mind-meld on Agnes. You can see this in a more subtle scene, too: when Cris says goodbye to Agnes at Coppelius station, he reaches out to touch her face, but then he hesitates and proceeds with extreme gentleness and care. To me, that reads like someone very, very aware of the other person's trauma and possible triggers (forced mind-meld) and caring deeply about making sure she feels safe and has something good to counterbalance the horrible memories.

And finally, we clearly jump quite a bit in time at the very end of season 1. When our motley crew sets out from Coppelius, the Synth Ban has been lifted. Just imagine the bureaucracy that must have taken! That’s not something that can be overturned in a day. Also, Raffi and Seven have had time to connect, so I imagine in that time, Cris and Agnes, too, will have slowly figured out whether they're compatible and whether this relationship is something they might, very carefully and gently, endeavour together.

Because they have a compatible kind of humour, because they understand what it's like to feel deeply broken but to keep going regardless, because she's witty and quirky and he's caring and kind and they went through a very specific hell together, and they might be able to hold each other's hands as they slowly make their ways towards healing.

I’m going to do a metatextual thing here and quote an absolutely gorgeous drabble by @regionalpancake that, to me, encapsulates one very important aspect of the relationship between Cris and Agnes.

     Your Light On Me  

You’d forgotten just how it felt. To feel like you. A stranger, Last seen aboard the Ibn Majid. Proud, red trimmed shoulders, Bright pips, a polished combadge. You signed aboard, And found A different man signed off. You’re old enough to know, She cannot fix you. You wouldn’t want her to. That’s between Pops and you. That’s your work to do, Not hers. But Agnes? Preciosa. Something in her, Shines a light. Reminds you who you are. You have to find, Your own way home. But god, It’s nice, At last, To find, A gentle soul, To hold the lamp.

 Chapter 74 of Downtime

That. Right there. A gentle soul to hold the lamp. I think for me, that's what the relationship between Cris and Agnes boils down to.

They are broken people in a broken world, but by the end of season 1, they have found that they can hold each other while they try to put themselves back together. And what starts out as a fun, distracting flirtation, then turns into "meaningless" sex to stop feeling lonely and sad, finally becomes the beginning of a relationship built on shared trauma, but more importantly on kindness and charm.

I have no idea whether these two can make it work long-term, but I am very much on board for what we've seen so far, and I hope this can help a bit in explaining why.

NB: After I finished writing this a few weeks back, I remembered that there was a fic that came to very similar conclusions. Upon reread, I realized it essentially hits the exact same points I do here and does so absolutely beautifully. So if you want a truly touching in-universe perspective on this relationship, go and read Love Comes Softly by Be_Right_Back (@smhalltheurlsaretaken, or listen to the Podfic recorded by Thimblerig. I cannot recommend this fic highly enough!      

[lomlmarvel]

As The World Caves In (Fred Weasley x fem!reader)

Summary: Song imagine based on “As The World Caves In” by Matt Maltese. We see Fred and the Reader’s relationship timeline leading up to the Battle of Hogwarts.

Word count: 3k

A/N: so sorry in advance. it’s angsty but with some fluff¿

My feet are aching

And your back is pretty tired

And we've drunk a couple bottles, babe

And set our grief aside

Fred Weasley remembered the summer after the Triwizard Tournament. It was a dark time for everyone. The days felt cold and gloomy, with a presence of death. Cedric Diggory’s death had shaken the wizarding world. No one imagined that a teenage boy would die in the first reinstallment of the Triwizard Tournament. No one imagined that a boy would die.

Many didn’t believe Harry Potter when he stated that He-Who-Shall-Be-Named was back. They thought that Harry killed Cedric in the maze and lied to cover up his cruel act. But Fred knew Harry, and he believed him. He remembered when Harry apparated with Cedric at his feet during the last challenge of the tournament. Fred’s best friend, Y/N, who also happened to be Harry’s older sister, was the first to jump out of her seat when she saw the younger Potter on the arena floor.

He remembered her screams and sobs. Sometimes at night, when it got tranquil, the painful cries sounded through his mind. The rest of that day was a blur. He remembers dragging Y/N away from her boyfriend’s corpse. Not even his dad was able to pull her out, but somehow he and George managed to ease her back from Cedric. Cedric’s dad clutched onto his body as his cries were heard from the entire audience. Dumbledore made quick to move Cedric away from the students’ prying eyes. Still, once he was able to, everyone knew what had happened.

After the term ended, Arthur had invited Y/N to stay at the Burrow over the summer. She turned of age a few days into the summer and therefore wasn’t legally bound to stay with the Dursley’s. Harry admitted that it would be best for her to take some time for herself and enjoy a stay with the Weasley’s. He assured his older sister that he would be fine alone with them.

Ginny had generously agreed to share a room with Y/N, stating that she didn’t mind at all and had wanted to spend more time with the eldest Potter. Over summer, the Weasleys tried their best to console the young teenaged girl as she grieved her former boyfriend. After a while, Molly and Arthur began to notice a change in her attitude. She seemed like she was starting to move on, and she smiled on most days. The letters between her and Harry became less consistent as the younger boy stopped replying to every message she sent.

One night, after a big dinner with the Weasleys, Y/N and Fred hung out in the field to watch the sunset. Fred had stolen a Firewhiskey bottle from his parent’s secret cabinet, and the two shared the full bottle. Fred had laid on his back to look up at the sky as the girl in front of him sat with her legs crossed. She had managed to sneak back into the house and steal another bottle as she swung a big sip of it.

“Harry stopped replying to my letters, and I think I know why,” Y/N hiccupped. She was halfway done with the bottle, and her world was upside down.

“He feels alone, I know it. He just doesn’t wanna talk to me. He thinks he’s at fault for—for what happened to Cedric,” Y/N managed to let out. Fred leaned over to take the bottle from her hands. She pouted at the loss of alcohol at her reach and waited for Fred to finish taking a sip.

“I know you’re still not over it, Y/N. You can’t lie to me. I see right through you,” Fred admitted. He had watched as his best friend had put on a show for the rest of his family. She pretended that she was okay, that she had finally accepted his death, and was ready to move on. But he could read her like an open book.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Can we talk about the shop instead?” She asked her best friend. The one who had been in love with her since he stopped thinking girls were gross. The one who had put his feelings aside in fear that she didn’t feel the same way as him. He silently watched as she dated a Ravenclaw named Mark and then Cedric. The most painful part was watching her fall in love with Cedric when he was still in love with her.

The Papers say it’s doomsday.

The button has been pressed.

We’re gonna nuke each other up, boys.

‘Til old satan stands impressed.

Fred remembers that day he and George decided to drop out of Hogwarts and pull one last prank before they left in style.

Umbridge had made Hogwarts a living hell. She had taken away everything that made school fun. The last straw was when they caught a young boy outside of her office, crying in pain because of the new scars on his forearms.

That night the twins talked about leaving Hogwarts, something that had been on their minds since Umbridge began setting rules. The following morning he met with his best friend, privately telling her the new decision he and George had decided to take. They would plan their grand exit for three days and leave just before the weekend to catch their parents by surprise.

Y/N knew that the boys had a dream job of running their own joke shop. She knew they had the talent to run a shop successfully. Hogwarts hadn’t been the same upon her return. Even though a whole summer had passed, being back on school grounds brought back memories that she wanted to push away. She spent the first few weeks crying, unable to contain the emotions she felt while the memories flooded through her head.

When Fred had told her about their plan, she asked if she could tag along. She was willing to drop out of Hogwarts to help the boys start up their joke shop. She never really knew what she wanted to do after school, but now she knew she would never get the chance at a proper education with Umbridge in charge.

Their prank coincidentally fell on an OWL’s exam. As Fred and George lit up their fireworks and flew above castle grounds for the crowd of students, Y/N filled Harry in on the details. Saying goodbye before hopping on her broom and flying away. The magical fireworks canceled exams for that day, destroying all the encased rules that Umbridge had set. The Weasley Twins left in fashion and established a loyal customer group for their new business career.

And here it is, our final night alive.

You put your final suit on

I paint my fingernails.

Oh, we’re going out in style, babe.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron were on a mission to destroy all of Voldemort’s Horcruxes. The Order of the Phoenix, now joined by Fred, George, and Y/N, kept themselves on a low radar. After the attack at Fleur and Bill’s wedding, they needed to remain alive and safe. Fred and George continued to open their shop and operate like a regular business. The Ministry began to arrest Muggle-born witches and wizards, causing the wizarding world to fog up in the presence of an incoming war.

The death eaters and Ministry were hunting the Golden Trio, but no one knew where they were. Y/N laid awake one night, staring up at the ceiling as she thought about her younger brother out in the world fighting to end this war, as she laid in a warm bed in the arms of her boyfriend.

She thought about her journey to where she had gotten. After leaving Hogwarts with the twins, they were met with an angry and disappointing speech given by Molly to the three of them. After discussing the joke shop idea and showing Molly all the work and thought they had put into it, she knew her children were following their dreams, something she had taught all of them.

As the weeks went on, Y/N started to realize that she was beginning to feel better. Moving into a small flat with her best friends and starting up a new business gave her time to start doing something in her life. She no longer grieved Cedric. Before, he was a painful memory that she couldn’t even think about without crying herself to sleep. Instead, he became a memory that warmed Y/N’s heart whenever she thought about him. They had had a generous and loving relationship, and he was no longer in the world. It still hurt that he was gone. But the world kept spinning, and if she didn’t start to keep up, it would leave her behind.

After a few months, she began to notice something different about Fred. There had always been something she felt with the way he looked at her. It was like if he was feeling real joy whenever they shared looks. She had always felt the pit in her stomach whenever he put his arm around her or made a flirty comment, but that was Fred. He was casually flirty and had always been that way. But because he was her best friend, she had pushed away those feelings to the back of her mind. However, they lived and worked together, and the emotions she was feeling for Fred only began to grow.

She couldn’t remember how it had happened. But on a night out after drinking, the two laid in their living room and drunkenly confessed their feelings. Things led to another, and the two had finally kissed after years of being in love.

“Hey, is everything alright, love?” Fred’s groggy voice took Y/N out of her thoughts. She turned to see her sleepy boyfriend staring at her figure.

“Yeah, I’m just worried. Harry managed to send me a message with the fireplace the other day. I didn��t want to alert you or George, so I let your father know,” Fred sat up to comfort his girlfriend as the tears began to build up in her eyes. “They’re headed to the Lovegood’s for help. That’s all he was able to tell me. He just wanted any one of us to know.”

“They’ll be fine. Those three have managed to survive and defeat any obstacle set in their way. They’ll be alright,” Fred assured her. She nodded and leaned to rest on his chest as he comfortingly soothed her arm.

And everything’s on sale.

We creep up on extinction.

I pull your arms right in

I weep and say goodnight, love.

No one had heard anything from Harry, Hermione, or Ron. No one wanted to admit anything, but they hoped that they were all safe and alive. For the past two days, tensions had been high with the Ministry and the Order. A close watch was being held on previous order members.

Molly and Arthur advised Fred, George, and Y/N to close up the shop and travel to the Burrow to be with the family. They had rejected their offer, stating that during dark times was when they were needed the most. They had to keep hope running, even if it meant keeping their joke shop open. But as the days got colder and darker, fewer people traveled through Diagon Alley, forcing the three to close shop and travel back home.

Molly and Arthur received them with broad smiles and open arms. The relieved hugs that they offered were not hidden insight as their worries faltered. It was nice to see their sons’ faces again and welcome in Y/N once again. She, Harry, and Hermione had already become part of the family, and it was nice to know that they would have company for the next few days.

“Mum loved the Muggle cookbook you gifted her. She was showing me some of the recipes earlier; she was excited for me to try some of her favorite dishes,” Fred explained as the two got ready for bed.

During the rebuilding of the Burrow, Molly and Arthur had received tremendous help from Harry and Y/N. They offered to help rebuild the Burrow. Molly and Arthur had at first refused to take money from them. Still, the Potters agreed that they deserved so much more, and they were doing it to return the hospitality and love the Weasleys had given them for years.

The Burrow rooms were now more prominent; with only Ginny living at home, they didn’t need as many rooms to fit their children. This resulted in two guest rooms that were occupied by George and, in the other, Fred and Y/N.

“Yeah, we baked a recipe earlier for your dad, who loved it. If you and George would’ve finished clearing the garden from gnomes faster than you did, then you might’ve been able to try the dessert before your dad ate it all,” Y/N chuckled at the memory of Arthur not resisting the temptation to finish the entire batch of brownies.

The two settled into the bed and cuddled up against each other—the quiet of the night set in as the two laid wide awake.

“I love you; you know that, right?” Fred broke through the silence. His voice calmed Y/N down. She relaxed in his arms and nodded.

“I love you, too,” she replied, pressing a kiss to his chest.

“I know you’ve been feeling anxious lately, and I just wanted to let you know that I’ll keep you safe,” Fred whispered. Y/N felt his grip on her tighten a bit before he relaxed against her skin. “Tonight, tomorrow, and every day after that. I’ll be by your side.”

“I love you, Freddie. Goodnight,” Y/N leaned up to kiss him goodnight as the older twin laid wide awake till the early hours of the morning.

And here it is, our final night alive.

And as the earth runs to the ground.

Fred and Y/N walked through the sea of Hogwarts students, offering aid to whoever needed it. As Harry, Hermione, and Ron delegated roles to Dumbledore’s Army; the Order worked to protect the castle in whatever way possible.

As they waited for the inevitable arrival of Voldemort and the Death Eaters, the twins rested against the hall bridge fence that overlooked the grand entrance and the great hall. They spent years finding the knicks and knacks of the medieval castle. At some point, these walls were victims to their pranks and were filmed with memories of laughter of students and causally professors. It had been their second home for years.

“Remember when Filch ran into that wall after he was the test subject for the first successful boxing telescope,” George asked his older brother, pointing to a brick wall by the grand entrance.

“You two tried the daydream charm on me when I was walking down those stairs,” Y/N pointed out as she joined the twins on the upper levels. The twins erupted in a small chuckle. That day they had caused Y/N to score detention with Snape after she had fallen to their prank during Potions.

The three mellowed in their silence. They tried to enjoy the memories that appeared in their heads, but all that they could think of was that they were going into a battle. A battle that they had no assurance to come out of alive.

“It was a pleasure, mates,” Fred jokingly stated, causing the two people at his side to shove him playfully.

“I would do it all over again with you two,” George added.

“Me too,” Y/N stated. The three looked at each other in gratitude and with love.

Oh, it’s you that I lie with

Yes, it’s you I welcome death with

As the world, as the world caves in

George laid defeatedly against the ground. He had stopped crying hours ago. The aftermath of the battle consisted of a mixture of emotions. They had won, but they had also lost.

George leaned over to soothe the back of the woman still clutching onto his brother’s dead body. Arthur had tried everything to pull Molly away from the body of their deceased son, but he had had no success. Just like Ron had failed to remove Harry from the grip he held on his sister’s corpse.

The two had fought together till the end. Successfully deflecting hexes and curses sent by death eaters, until they were ambushed and both lost their lives protecting their loved ones. They hadn’t died instantly. Y/N and Fred laid on the clock tower grounds, staring into each other’s eyes with their hands intertwined and held on tightly until they both shared a mental and mutual decision to let go. The fallen heroes of the Battle of Hogwarts were never forgotten, but it never stopped hurting. 

Fred Jr. nervously walked through the castle grounds at night, whispering lumos to guide him through the dark. It was his first time trying to sneak into the kitchen after curfew, having heard that many students managed to do it successfully. He had been lost for the past ten minutes, and his worst fear was being found by the groundskeeper or a professor. His small body turned cold when he heard a voice in the back of him.

“I think the kitchen is that way,” Fred Jr. turned around to see a familiar face. Only that she didn’t look exactly the way he had seen her. Her pictures hung in his house and at his grandparents and uncle’s house. Her grey appearance didn’t frighten him but instead made him feel at home. 

“It’s never too late for a midnight snack, don’t you think, Y/N?” Another voice sounded through the dark hall. Fred Jr. spun around to see another ghost, one that looked a lot like his father. 

“Never, Freddie. So, how about we help Fred Jr. here find the kitchen?” Y/N responded, flying down to meet Fred Jr.’s level. 

“Are you sure we won’t get caught, Aunt Y/N?” Fred Jr. asked, tightly holding his wand. 

“With us? You have nothing to worry about,” Y/N replied smiling widely at the young Weasley. A smile broke out on his lips, and he followed after the two ghosts.

[bluefirewrites]

Hc - Luke gets in trouble at school and forced to join the drama club latest production and try out , where he ends up getting the lead along with Julie (who they know of each other through there moms friendship. But the more they spend time together even outside school the more they fall for each other. And finally get together (sorry for the rambling sometimes have trouble writing what i want to say )

I had this whole response typed out before my computer crashed and it got lost in the void. 

I’m gonna mince some details just in case it happens again, but I love this concept. 

Luke’s a bad boy on campus. It’s hard to get him engaged in anything school-related, but the teachers just know that he’s got untapped potential, especially Ms. Harrison, the theater teacher. 

The band is on Luke’s mind all day every day. And he gets in trouble at school a lot because of it- borrowing the instruments from the music room for a quick jam session, pasting their gig posters over Carrie Wilson’s student body president ones, parking their band van in the teacher’s lot (it’s a lot closer!). 

But Luke’s latest scheme lands him in hot water with the principal. 

He thought it was a great idea to hijack lunchtime and turn it into an impromptu Sunset Curve concert. He and the boys hid on the stage over looking the cafeteria and they even bribed the sound tech to help them out. 

And in the middle of lunch, they burst through the curtains and started jamming out for everyone. 

And Luke may have gotten carried away. 

He may have jumped onto the nearest lunch table, treating it like his own personal runway, hopping and skipping over people’s lunches.

He may have miscalculated the space and so when he slid into a power stance, he may have spilled orange juice onto some poor girl’s homework.

He didn’t have time to apologize to the fuming girl before he’s up and running, inciting the now crowd of students into a riot with his music. 

Let’s just say that tables were tipped over, food was everywhere, and Principal Lessa was not happy. 

It was a success in Luke’s eyes. 

But then Lessa pulls him into the office and oddly enough, for Luke, Ms. Harrison is present. That’s where they give him the ultimatum: they suspend him and the boys for their little stunt, or they have to audition/ partake in Ms. Harrison’s spring musical. 

And Luke bawks at the idea. Because they’re a rock band! They don’t do show tunes!

But he takes the deal, mainly so his parents don’t get any more pissed at him. 

The boys all show up to auditions, and apart from Alex, the rest of them aren’t super into it. 

He sits down in the auditorium, waiting of his turn, when he notices the next person up for audition- Julie Molina.

He sorta knows her. Their moms are in book club together. When she auditions, Luke notices two things- 1) her voice is killer and 2) the script she’s holding is stained with orange juice. 

Whoops. 

She hops down the stage and catches his eye and she glares at him. And given the round of applause and Ms. Harrisons’s praise- Julie Molina seems to be the queen of the theater department. And Luke managed to have pissed her off. 

Great...

Then he goes up to audition, all ready to half-ass it because really doesn’t want to be a part of the play. So when it’s his turn, Luke doesn’t take it seriously- he purposefully flubs the words, he doesn’t act from the script- instead reciting a monologue from the Simpsons that made everyone, but Julie, laugh. 

Ms. Harrison only nods, and notifies him that the cast list would be put up at the end of the day. 

Luke, thinking he tanked it, doesn’t bother to stop in front of the cast list posted like everyone else does at the end of the school day. But when he tries to pass, everyone’s eyes are on him, including his friends’. 

“Um... Luke,” Alex says from his spot in front of the bulletin board, “You might wanna see this,” 

He pushes past the crowd until he can read the cast list. 

Oh no. 

He made the lead. 

Luke’s confused. He thought he put on the worst audition ever?

“Congratulations,” he hears from beside him and he sees Julie, arms crossed, not the least bit happy. 

And that’s when he reads the rest of the cast list- Julie’s the other lead. 

They’re going to be love interests. 

When it’s time for rehearsals, it’s an utter disaster. Luke’s never been in any production ever, so being part of a team, that’s not just him and the boys, is throwing him off. 

He can sing yeah- but he dancing? Acting? Not his forte. And Julie knows this, and gets so frustrated with him whenever they rehearse a scene together. 

But when it comes time to the duet- oddly enough, they sound great together. Amazing even. Luke wants to say that ever since hearing how their voices complimented each other’s, Julie eases up on him a little. 

Some weeks go by, and slowly but surely, Luke and the boys are warming up to theater culture. Alex, Reggie, and Bobby seem to be having a good time learning their parts and making new friends with the cast and crew, and pretty soon Luke and Julie form a tentative truce. 

One day, Luke closes his locker and gets spooked by Julie leaning beside him. 

“Hey,” 

“Hi?” They don’t talk during school. Only at rehearsal. So this is new. 

“How much of the songs have you memorized?” Okay, right down to it, Luke thinks. But it’s Julie- theater is her life. 

“All of them, don’t worry,” 

“And your lines?” 

“...” 

“I thought so. You called my character by Kayla’s character’s name. Do you even know what this play is about?” 

“Of course I do,” 

“We’ll see about that,” Julie then scribbles something on a piece of paper and hands it to him, “My place. After school. We will be running lines,” 

Luke starts going to Julie’s almost every other day to go through lines, and also because he needs all the help he can get when it comes to acting. 

Some days are good, others- well, are left to be desired, but Luke tries to get Julie to loosen up and he coaxes her into taking breaks and going out to eat during their one-on-one sessions. And he starts to find himself actually enjoying her company, and she with him- even if she’s reluctant to admit it. 

But over time, Luke starts to get a schedule down, now invested in the musical, he makes sure he gets to school on time, gets through his classes, rehearse, and days when he’s not rehearsing- he’s with Julie, working on their stuff. 

Luke’s mom notices a change in him, and even though it’s more music stuff that he seems to be getting up to, she doesn’t mind. And when Luke sees that his mom smiles every time he mentions that he’s off to see Julie, he knows their moms have definitely been talking to each other. 

When he would get to the Molina’s, he would pass Rose, greet her, and say that he’s going to be running lines with Julie. 

“Right,” 

“We are,” he insists, one time, after catching Rose smirking. 

“It’s just, I’ve been in theater myself when I was younger. I know what ‘running lines’ mean,” 

And to say that Luke shows up blushing to the garage where Julie was waiting was an understatement. 

But as much as Luke and Julie are killing it in their performances, there’s one part that trips Luke up. 

There’s a scene where their two characters confess their love for each other, following a group musical number, but Luke can’t get into it. 

He throws the script in frustration at the couch, “This is hopeless.”

“No, you’re doing good. It’s just missing something,” Julie says, pulling him closer to her, “You’re reading the lines. You’re not saying them,” 

“What does that mean?” 

“You need to channel the character. His thoughts and feelings in the moment, and you embody that. You show the audience that,” 

“So what do I need to do?” 

“You need to look like you’re in love with me, okay?” 

“Okay,” 

They run it a couple of times before they do it at rehearsal the next day. And after he and Julie go over their love confession, Luke inwardly curses himself because he couldn’t focus and he was worried he messed up in front of everyone during such an intimate scene. 

But once he concluded, Julie is looking up at him with an expression he’s never seen before, in surprised awe, and he could see a faint blush on her cheeks. And she ends up stammering into her part- something the Julie Molina never did. 

Everyone in the production applauds them- Reggie, Alex, and Bobby look at Luke, wide-eyed. 

Flynn comes up to them to show them the footage she captured of their rehearsal and Luke is stunned to see that his acting isn’t as terrible as he thought. In that moment, he really looked like he was in love with Julie as he said his lines. 

And then it hit him. 

The reason he couldn’t focus is because he had been too busy staring into Julie’s beautiful brown eyes, relishing the touch of her warm hand in his- and he didn’t even try to act, he said the lines as he normally would if he was talking. 

He didn’t look like he was in love with Julie. 

He was in love with Julie. 

It gets awkward between them since then, and they haven’t been able to recapture that same spark as their previous performance. And now that they have gotten their parts down, there’s no need for Luke to keep visiting Julie any more, and they only see each other at rehearsals. 

And then it comes- opening night. 

They run through it without a hitch earlier before and everyone’s all excited for how it’s gonna play out. 

Luke sees his parents out in the audience, chilling with the Molinas, and he stomachs his nerves before walking out and to perform. 

The production is successful, only minor mishaps occur (aka Reggie’s props keep falling apart, so he had to make due with invisible ones for the time being). 

And then it comes to the finale, the big scene. Luke goes in and delivers his lines, staring into Julie’s eyes and tries to channel the same feelings as before.

But when it’s Julie’s turn, she starts ad-libbing. She says her lines, but then she’s throwing in references that certainly aren’t relevant within the time period in which the musical takes place (”when you gave me your last strawberry for my frozen yogurt... I knew... I knew you were the one for me”), it makes the audience laugh but the heart was still there. 

Luke’s confused until he realizes. It’s not Julie’s character confessing her feelings for Luke’s anymore. 

It’s Julie confessing her feelings for Luke. Right there on stage. In front of everyone. 

She went off-script for him...

After curtain call, and everyone is riding that post-opening night high, Luke catches Julie before she could go meet her family out in the hallway. 

“Hey,” 

“Hi,” 

Luke pulls out his script, “Run it with me one last time?” 

“Luke, what-”

“Humor me, please,” 

Julie scans the script he hands to her. He’s circled their love confession scene, and when she reaches the bottom of the page, her eye catches a new, messily scribbled in stage direction. 

“’And they kiss...” Julie reads, a smile slowly growing on her face, “...hopefully??”

They both laugh at the latter words, and Luke looks at her sheepishly. 

“I mean... if it’s in the script, we gotta do it, right?” 

“You’re such a dork,” Julie says before pulling him in for a kiss. 

They pull away, and Luke has the audacity to smirk, “I believe this is what you call a ‘showmance’,” 

Julie quirks an eyebrow at the new vocabulary, “Someone’s been paying attention.” 

“I’ve learned a few things,” He nuzzles her nose against hers, “I had a pretty good teacher.” 

“I have plenty more to teach you,” 

“Oh really?”

“Like, for instance, how the warp party at Denny’s is a must,” She takes him by the hand and leads him out of the theater, giggling “Come on!” 

They dash through the hallways until they come up on their friends and family, who were proud of their performances. Luke looks up from hugging his mom in time to see Ms. Harrison grinning at him and giving him a thumbs up. 

‘Thank you,’ he mouths to the teacher. 

Maybe theater wasn’t that bad of an idea after all...

[writerofthecourt]

memories of what could have been

pairing: miya atsumu x reader

summary: seeing you in the stands, atsumu couldn’t help but think back on how your relationship got to this point

warning: inarizaki vs. karasuno spoilers, time skip spoilers

a/n: this was supposed to be short and sweet…what happened?? i’m sorry for any missed editing mistakes. inspired by this song by ito kashitaro. please give it a listen to after you’re done reading, it is such a good song!

The audience watched in nervous silence, waiting with bated breath as Atsumu stepped up to the line and prepared for his serve. The game had dwindled down to its final set, leaving both teams exhausted and sore from the constant rallies and unforgiving plays. If Atsumu could land a service ace now, it would mean the end of the game and victory for his team.

Looking at his teammates, Hinata and Bokuto both smiled at him encouragingly, while Sakusa’s glare told him not to mess up. Looking up to the stands, Atsumu found you in the sea of people, your lips curved into a radiant smile as you shot him a reassuring thumbs up.

Finding strength in the people around him, Atsumu released a shaky breath before tossing the ball up into the air, jumping after it to launch it into the opponent’s side of the court.

“Can I play?” a tiny voice asked from behind him.

Catching the ball that Osamu had just received, Atsumu turned around and raised a condescending eyebrow at you, his eyes scanning you with disdain and disinterest as you stared back at him with anticipation.

“No way,” he scoffed. “This isn’t a game for scrubs like ya.”

“That’s not very nice,” you replied, a frown now present on your face. “My ma told me that ya should be kind and share with everyone.”

“Yeah? And my ma told me not to talk with strangers,” Atsumu made a shoo-ing motion with his hands, “now go and play in the sandbox with the rest of the scrubs.”

Scrunching your nose in frustration, you stomped off towards the swing set where you had been previously occupying your time. “Jerk…”

Smirking in victory, Atsumu returned to receiving the ball back and forth with Osamu, letting out a gasp of surprise when the ball bounced off of his arm and went flying towards your direction.

“Oi, watch out!” Atsumu shouted to warn you.

Turning around, you quickly surveyed the ball before taking off into a running start. Jumping up into the air, you perfectly spiked the ball back to Atsumu, hitting him in the face as you gracefully landed on your feet.

“Wow,” you drawled out sarcastically with a smirk. “Sorry, my hand slipped.”

Osamu, who had been quiet up until this point, let out an uncontrollable laugh as Atsumu continued to groan on the ground, his face now red from where the volleyball had smacked him.

That was how you met Miya Atsumu.

The classroom was filled with hushed excitement as everyone anxiously waited in their seats for the lunch bell to ring. Today was Valentine’s Day, and all the students were once again ready to celebrate and revel in the traditions of the romantic holiday.

As soon as the bell rang, various female students ran up to Atsumu’s desk, showering him in a variety of wrapped and decorated chocolate confections. Despite only being second years, the Miya twins were the talk of their junior high, as their superior looks and athleticism made them the envy and desire of the student population, whether they wanted to be or not.

Looking over his large pile of gifts, Atsumu glanced at his brother from across the classroom, finding some sort of comfort in how Osamu also seemed to be struggling with his own horde of adoring fans.

“Atsumu-kun, please accept my chocolates.”

“I worked really hard on these, so please accept my feelings, Atsumu-san!”

“Atsumu-kun, are ya going out with anybody right now?”

“Oh, shuddup!” Atsumu snapped as he stood up from his desk, causing everyone to stare at him with surprise and fear. “I just wanna go out and play volleyball, but none of ya will let me leave!”

The girls around Atsumu’s desk quickly shrank back, some shuffling their feet in awkwardness, while others hid behind their friends.

“Yer a real jerk, y’know that?” Osamu sighed, shaking his head at his brother’s lack of tact.

“What did’ja say, ‘Samu? Say it to my face!”

Noticing movement from the door, Atsumu saw the top of your head peeking out from behind the door frame, your body obstructed from view due to the large number of female students standing outside of the classroom.

“Oi, [Y/N],” Atsumu called out, causing you to jump in surprise. “Come play volleyball with me and ‘Samu.”

“Uhh, sure,” you agreed nervously as some of the other girls began to glare at you. “I have something I gotta do first. I’ll see ya out on the field.”

“Sounds good!”

Turning around, you scurried down the hallway and rushed back into your classroom, hiding your box of chocolates away in the depths of your school bag.

Your friend, who sat in the desk behind you, raised an eyebrow at your suspicious behaviour. “I thought ya were gonna go confess to Atsumu-san? Ya said that’cha worked all night on those chocolates.”

“Haha, yeah. I’m chickening out,” you shamefully admitted, rubbing the back of your neck. “He was a little busy…”

“Figures,” your friend scoffed, rolling her eyes at your cowardice.

“Yeah. Good thing I bought those extra store bought chocolates, right?” you chuckled, trying to ease the pain. “Now it won’t be awkward if I only give ‘Samu his chocolates.”

Your friend sighed before shaking her head in pity. “I don’t know why ya fell for that idiot in the first place.”

“Yeah, me too,” you whispered, remembering all of the effort you had put into your chocolates the night before.

At the simple age of fourteen, you experienced your first heartbreak.

It was a tough pill to swallow, but it was the truth. Nobody expected a powerhouse team like Inarizaki to lose in their first match of the Spring High National Tournament, but Karasuno was an incredible team, managing to secure the victory after a tremendous three set game.

Days following the tournament, a sombre atmosphere could still be felt lingering in the halls of Inarizaki High. The third year volleyball club members were now retired, turning to focus their attention on studying and entrance exams instead. They would still occasionally show up to practice and mentor their first and second years, but it was clear that their time in their beloved club was over. Everyone was heartbroken, but no one was more upset about the team’s loss than one blond setter.

“Hey,” you greeted Osamu as he opened the front door. “How are ya holdin’ up?”

“Fine,” Osamu replied with a shrug. “Definitely a lot better than ‘Tsumu.”

You nodded solemnly, entering the quiet house and exchanging your outdoor shoes for a pair of house slippers. “Are yer parents not home?”

“Visiting family,” Osamu answered plainly, tearing open a bag of chips to snack on them. “Want some?”

Shaking your head, you politely declined his offer. After a moment of silence, you shuffled your feet and glanced up the staircase. “I’m gonna go check up on him.”

As you began to climb the stairs, Osamu called out your name, making you turn back to look at him. “Thanks. For being there when I can’t.”

You smiled, nodding to Osamu before letting your feet carry you through the familiar hallways of the Miya household. Soon, you reached your destination, stopping right in front of the twins’ bedroom door.

Gently knocking on the door, you alerted Atsumu of your presence. “‘Tsumu? It’s me. I’m coming in, okay?”

Hearing a grunt of acknowledgement, you entered the room before softly closing the door behind you. Shaking your head, you sighed at all of the clothes and manga books messily strewn about the room. Typical teenage boys.

There, securely wrapped in his blanket from head to toe, Atsumu lay on his bed, his back facing towards you as he stared off at the wall in complete silence.

“Hey,” you greeted softly, taking a seat next to him on the bed. “‘Samu says that yer not holdin’ up too well. Are ya okay?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Atsumu mumbled, his nose stuffy and voice grating as if he had been previously crying.

“It’s okay if ya don’t want to talk about it,” you conceded, bringing a hand up to brush through Atsumu’s messy blond locks.

After a few minutes of silence, sniffles could be heard echoing throughout the room as Atsumu tried his best to muffle his cries into his pillow. With a melancholic smile, you continued to rake your fingers through Atsumu’s hair, staring out at the window to bask in the glow of the setting sun.

“Everything will be okay, ‘Tsumu,” you gently whispered. “You’ll be okay…”

Outside of the room, Osamu smiled as he heard your comforting words to Atsumu. He felt content knowing that the blond would be just fine now that you were here.

“Ahhh, I can’t believe we’re done!” you shouted in excitement, your eyes gleaming as you admired the piece of paper you had sacrificed three years of your life to obtain.

“Yer so loud,” Osamu grimaced as he stood to your left. Though, he also broke out into a smile once he saw how the happy expression on your face never wavered.

Graduation was both a joyous and scary occasion, as students now set off on their own paths towards an undecided future. Although nothing was certain, you weren’t scared. You were ready to take on whatever life threw at you.

“Hey, Osamu, come take a picture with us!” a couple of guys from the baseball club requested, shaking their phones for emphasis.

Shrugging his shoulders, Osamu left your side as you waited for Atsumu to finish his conversation with a couple of his female fans.

After snapping a quick photo with them, Atsumu waved his fans goodbye and walked over to stand next to you underneath one of the school’s cherry blossom trees.

“God, they’re so annoying. ‘Miya-san, yer so cool. We’re gonna miss ya so much!’” Atsumu poorly imitated, his voice rising to an absurdly high pitch in an effort to mimic their voices.

“Yer awful!” you laughed, shoving his shoulder once he was within arm’s reach.

“Yeah, yeah. Tell me something I don’t know,” he smirked before glancing around. “Where’s ‘Samu?”

“Pictures,” you said, pointing to Osamu and a group of boys off in the distance.

“Ughhhh,” Astumu groaned, glaring at his brother with impatience.

As the two of you waited for Osamu to be done, a comfortable silence enveloped you and Atsumu. The hushed chatter of other students could be still heard as they all ran around, saying goodbye to one another and wishing each other good luck for the future. You looked up to the sky and smiled, admiring how the cherry blossoms danced with the gentle breeze of spring.

“I’ve been in love with ya since junior high, did’ja y’know that?” you asked, grinning once you saw the look of absolute shock painted on Atsumu’s handsome face.

“W-what-” Atsumu sputtered, not knowing what to say in response to your confession.

“Calm down, ya look like yer gonna choke or something,” you chuckled.

“Why are ya telling me this now?” Atsumu asked seriously, staring at you with a look that you couldn’t quite decipher.

Shrugging your shoulders, you answered Atsumu’s question. “Why not? It doesn’t change anything. Yer still gonna be moving to Osaka to try out for the MSBY Black Jackals, ‘Samu’s gonna be studying here, and I’m heading off to Tokyo. I just wanted to get this off my chest after all these years.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Atsumu reluctantly looked away, “I don’t feel the same way about you.”

“I know,” you said as you took a hold of his hand, ignoring how he seemed to flinch at your touch. “A part of me kinda hoped that you’d return my feelings and move with me to Tokyo, but that’s just a far-fetched dream. Besides, I’d never want to make you choose between me and volleyball.”

“[Y/N], I’m sorry-”

“Will you stop it!” you playfully snapped, rolling your eyes at the Miya Atsumu’s sudden shyness. “It’s fine. I’ve come to terms with my feelings a long time ago. No matter what, at the end of the day, I’ll still love both you and ‘Samu all the same.”

Hearing your parents call out your name, you turned to where they stood as they signalled for you to meet them at the car parked a couple of blocks down the street.

“Okay!” you confirmed as you waved to them. Turning back to Atsumu, you planted a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth, surprising him as you shot him one last smile. “Goodbye for now, ‘Tsumu. I’ll see ya when I see ya.”

Atsumu could do nothing but stare as you ran off towards Osamu, interrupting the photo-taking as you hugged the ex-wing spiker before kissing him on the cheek and bidding him your farewells. The other guys around Osamu all whistled and hollered, but he just rolled his eyes at their lighthearted teasing.

Returning your hug, Osamu kissed the top of your head, saying his goodbyes to you as well before whispering something only you could hear. Both of your eyes drifted to Atsumu before you nodded your head and separated from the grey haired Miya. Waving to Osamu and Atsumu one last time, you ran off to catch up with your parents.

As Atsumu watched you leave, the blond clenched his fist tightly around his shirt, right where his heart would be. An indescribable feeling began to settle in his chest, and he couldn’t help but feel as if he would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn’t chase after you.

Nevertheless, Atsumu’s feet remained firmly planted on the ground.

“Miya-san, you are one of the rising stars in the world of volleyball right now. Looking at your career up until this point, I can easily understand why so many new players see you as a figure of inspiration,” the interviewer complimented, a professional and polite smile on her face as she held up her microphone. “Tell me, is there anyone that inspires you to work hard and continue to do your best?”

“That’s a tough question,” Atsumu replied, sending the interviewer and camera a charismatic smile. “Well, if I had to choose…”

Looking back on his life, the first person that came to Atsumu’s mind was you. Like a lantern shining in the darkest of nights, your smiling face was the first one to appear in the setter’s head.

Suddenly, memories of you all came flooding back to him, especially that one fateful day underneath the cherry blossom tree where you had confessed your feelings to him.

“Uh, Miya-san?�� the interviewer asked, snapping him out of his daze. “Are you all right?”

“Um, yeah, sorry. It’s been a long day,” he chuckled, earning a laugh from the interviewer as well. “Sorry, what was the question again?”

The interviewer only smiled as she repeated her question.

“Yer going on a date?!” Atsumu screeched, pulling at his hair as if he had just heard the worst news ever. He was currently on a Facetime call with you and Osamu, with your phone aimed towards your closet as you shifted through and appraised different outfits with the twins.

“Uh, yeah, that’s what I said,” you confirmed, rolling your eyes at blond’s overreaction. “Now, which shirt looks better, the yellow one or the white one.”

“I personally like the white one,” Osamu replied, quickly glancing up from his laptop before resuming his essay.

“Since when? With who?” Atsumu interrogated, glaring suspiciously at you through the phone screen.

“A guy from my Intro to Biology class. He seems really nice, so I accepted his offer,” you explained with exasperation. “It’s just coffee, ‘Tsumu.”

“Just coffee?!” the blond asked hysterically. “This is Tokyo we’re talking about! We all know how sketchy those city boys are!”

“‘Tsumu, it’s just one date,” you sighed, no longer having the energy to deal with him. “Listen, if it goes poorly, I’ll block his number and never interact with him ever again. Deal?”

“Fine,” Atsumu relented, grumbling something under his breath that you couldn’t quite pick up. “But call me or ‘Samu as soon as you get home! If I don’t hear from ya by the end of the night, I’m going to Tokyo myself!”

“I’ll be fine, ‘Tsumu,” you chuckled before glancing at the time. “Okay, I gotta go. We’re meeting up soon. See ya, guys!”

“Bye.” “Be safe!”

Hanging up the call, Atsumu let his head fall back onto the couch, his fists shaking with frustration. He didn’t like you, at least not in that way. So why did he feel jealousy and disappointment burning away at his chest when you had announced to him and Osamu that you were going on a date?

Thinking back to graduation day, Atsumu couldn’t help but wonder if he truly did feel nothing for you back then. In any case, he couldn’t deny that the thought of you now stirred up something within his heart.

He hated himself for it, but he hoped that your date was a total disaster. That he’d be there to comfort you and rekindle whatever feelings you had for him back in high school.

Unfortunately, Atsumu never got his chance.

As the ball flew through the air, the opponent’s libero made a desperate dive to reach it. Unfortunately, his efforts were not enough, as the ball landed just out of his arm’s reach, so close, yet so far away from being stopped.

The whistle sounded, declaring the end of the game as the crowd erupted into both cheers of happiness and groans of disappointment. Atsumu’s teammates all ran up to quickly hug him, with Hinata and Bokuto being the first ones to reach the tired setter. Sakusa looked at the three of them with disgust, but he still sent Atsumu a small smile, telling him that he did good.

Atsumu laughed as Bokuto kept slapping him on the back, while Hinata congratulated him for his amazing serve. Looking up to the stands one more time, Atsumu chuckled as you sent him a beautiful smile and an enthusiastic wave of both hands, the shine of your wedding band reflecting off of the stadium lights.

“Y-yer gettin’ married?”

“Yeah! Isn’t this great, ‘Tsumu?”

“Y-yeah! This is wonderful, [Y/N]. I wish ya nothing but all the happiness in the world…”

Turning to your husband beside you, you began to excitedly talk about all the amazing players and the various highlights of the game. Your husband must have said something funny because you started to laugh, kissing him on his cheek before leaning into his chest with a hug.

Atsumu turned away from the happy couple, half-listening to the praises of his teammates. He had never once regretted his decision in pursuing volleyball, but he couldn’t help but think back to that fateful spring day.

If he had accepted your feelings back then, would he be the one that you were hugging right now? The one that got to see your dazzling smile and hear the twinkle of your laughter every morning?

Atsumu loved volleyball, but he also loved you.

He was just too late in realizing this fact.

fun fact: osamu was originally going to end up with [y/n], but i liked the idea of them remaining as friends a lot better. [y/n]’s husband is a canon haikyuu character, so if anyone can guess who he is, i’ll write you a request

EDIT: an anon has correctly guessed that it was konoha

[fly-like-a-phoenix]

House of Lust (part 2)

Abbé de Coulmier x reader.

Summary: Five years has passed since the events of Quills. The Abbé de Coulmier is released of prision by a misterious event. And he will know again those feelings he never thought will meet again: love... and lust.

Warnings: mentions of violence.

The Abbé du Maupas was right. The judge freed him a few days later after he knew his parents will save him from the asylum.

The audience with the judge was short. He had to walk again to the trial's chamber, dressing only black pants, a pair of boats and a white shirt, both hands in chains.

He sitted next to his lawyer, a tall man with red hair. He didn't know him. In fact, he didn't even know his name. The man presented his case as a mistake. He was condemned five years ago for a crime he didn't commit.

A famous case a the moment, the judge remembered. The Marquis de Sade was a very well known name in the whole Europe. And being his killer wasn't something hidden.

The judge finally accepted he was innocent. He was just administrating the sacrament of the extreme unction to a dying Marquis when he swallowed the Holly Cross that François presented him to kiss as symbol.

He just wanted to save his soul before he died moments later, because he couldn't do it while the Marquis was alive. Who would know the Marquis would be committing suicide, killing himself with the cross?

The principal witness was Valcour. He testified against Roger-Collard. He was actually out the Marquis' cell when all that happened, and he finally said everything he heard at the time.

The other witness was the Abbé du Maupas himself, who used to talk with him while he was in the cell. The Abbé said he was a good man, and didn't deserve to be in there, caged as an animal. In fact, he added that François should get his title again.

In less than an hour, François was free. He was out the building, touching his own wrists, still feeling the metal of the handcuffs scratching his soft skin. The lawyer, Maupas and Valcour were with him.

Was he really cured? Did he really deserved to be an Abbé again? Did he really changed after five years? Maybe he never changed. Maybe he was a little dog to Roger-Collard.

His world started to fall down when the horrific alienist doctor came to Charenton. The Marquis was publishing with Madeline's help behind his back, yes. But the doctor was the one who started to torture the pacients and the one who collapsed all the inmates activities: the theatre, the watercolor exercises, the games.

He mock at him when he defended her while she was being punished for helping the Marquis. He was the one who let Madeline die, closing the door, not letting her the chance to escape from Bouchon, his murderer. And he was actually the one who asked him to punish the Marquis by cutting off his tongue.

Roger-Collard was the real Demon. He still wanted revenge. But he will never see his face again. At least, he wanted to give him a good punch in the middle of his eyes for what he did to Madeline. He missed her a lot.

When he decided he would dedicate hiw own life, flesh and soul to God, he never thought his heart would follow the beautiful chambermaid that worked in the asylum.

When she confessed her love to him, he closed his eyes. He remembered so damn well how he rejected her that night. He was taking her away from the Marquis. She asked him to stay in the asylum. She said she loved him.

Those certain feelings he didn't want to show to her... Those feelings he thought incited people to act in a bad way... Those feelings betrayed him at that moment. He kissed her.

The feeling of her mouth, her lips, her tongue. It was all a real paradise. And when she pressed her body to him, he stepped away a few inches, a "no" escaping from his lips.

She thought she was doing him wrong. Actually, he had a hard on just for kissing the girl. He said he loved her as a child of God. She misunderstood this. And left by his petition, crying. When he got out the room, decided to bring her back, she was gone.

He cried that night, his head spining for those kisses as if he just tasted the most powerful drug. He desired her. And that was his chance. A few more kisses, and Madeline surely would took his shirt off and push him to the bed.

She had a lot of control of her feelings. He didn't. And when he went to apologize, she said "don't came closer, God's watching" or something like that. She died being angry with him. And that was hurting him so much since then.

"Abbé de Coulmier" he heard while thinking in Madeline. It was her voice. "Abbé de Coulmier" the voice reprised.

"Abbé de Coulmier." Said the lawyer. It was him calling. And François came back to reality.

"I'm not an Abbé anymore, monsieur. I'm just François." He answered, with a low, shy voice that wasn't common in him.

"If you say that, Ab---François. But now you have the chance to be that man again, you know?"

"How?" The confusion ran through his all body. The Pope himself, or that was what he heard once, decided to retire his title from him. He was not longer a servant of the Lord.

The lawyer took a paper, a letter, from his jacket. François look around. People were walking in those beautiful streets. But Valcour and the Abbé du Maupas were not there.

"Take it." The lawyer said, giving him the letter. "It's very important. You have to read it, Abbé."

François exhaled hot breath. He was a little cold, only his shirt protecting him from the easy wind. "Where are the other men?" He asked. "Where are Valcour and Maupas?"

"Oh, they just left. They couldn't leave Charenton too much time."

"Oh, I see. I just wanted to thank them for saving me, that's all".

"Well, you can do it. Write them a letter, or go seeing them."

"But I don't have any money. I don't even have more decent clothes than these."

"That's why you gotta read the letter, Abbé." He said, handing him his own jacket.

The lawyer turn around. When he was just about to leave, François approach to him, and touched his shoulder. They shook hands for the first time.

"Good luck, François." He said, putting his hat on.

"I don't even know your name!" He said while seeing the man leaving.

"Donatien!" He answered, more and more invisible into the mist.

François was thinking. That Donatien guy was very different to another Donatien he knew once, the Marquis himself. The voices in his head had stopped after he left Charenton. But now, all his being was telling him to read the paper.

He put on his new jacket, feeling better against the cold. And he walk a few meters, sitting in the steps of a house. He opened the envelope. And started to read.

François.

You are most important to us that you think. But the real thing, my son, it's that we can't see you again. Not for now, at least. We're in Spain. We had to run, because some jacobins still wanted to kill us.

I don't know what you think, but your father and I love you, my boy. And we want you to be free, and happy, as you've always been. That's what we contacted some friends of us. They'll help you to get out from Charenton.

You have to go to the address that's at the end of this letter. They are the people who hired the lawyer. They'll give you assistance of all kind and a roof. I hope you trust them as we do, my boy. We miss you so much.

With love, Anaïs and Clément de Coulmier.

P.S: Go to Villa d'Évreux. They must receive you well there. In the envelope you will find money to pay the trip. Go find a carriage that can take you.

Those were the first words he had read from his parents in, at least, ten years. Just a few lines, and every memory from his childhood came to him, making him shed some tears over the ink lines. He really missed them, more than God at least.

He started to walk, asking to the owners of the carriages if they knew that Villa d'Évreux. One of them did. And he took him to the ride.

Some women looked at him in a devilish way. Not bad, just desire in their faces. He never thought he was hot or handsome at least. He never thought any girl could feel something for him. But damn, he was so wrong!

Every girl in the asylum felt like a melting mess while he walked the corridors. Madeline was the epitome of that. And he used to wear his sacred clothes at that time! What could he expect while walking in Paris with such a normal look?

François look behind the little window. Paris changed a lot since he walk those streets the last time. It just seemed so much more civilized, so much more clean and calm.

Maybe he wasn't now just the only person in the world that hasn't succumbed yet to every spasm of lust and evil, noteven when all that bad happened. That was, at least, what he thought. But he wasn't right at all. Not with the people he was going to meet.

Tagging: @darknessisafriend @five-miles-over @yukis-writing @thegirlwho @jokerflecker @missrockabilly99 @luperugorria99 @lyoongx @weirdflecksbutok @skaravir @stardancerluv @sgtsavoytruffle @ohcarlesmycarles @beautifulyoungprospect @stellargirlie @sophiefleck @the-queen-of-things @joaqz-phoenix @ajokerfangirl

Let me know If you want to be tagged!

[yakultberry]

daffodils in winter (1); l.jh

✪ summary: in ancient times, only two lovers were able to sway hades into granting them a second chance at life together. even so, a single look back doomed their love story to inevitably remain a tragedy. but is fate truly set in stone or are we able to mold it with our own hands?  ✪ pairing: orpheus!jihoon x eurydice!reader  ✪ genre(s): angst, fluff, reincarnation au, modern greek mythology au, just,,,, a lot of pining ✪ word count: 3.2k words 

✪ a/n: surprise @custardheart​!! i’m your cwc secret santa! c: <33 i had so much fun trying to not to make it obvious that it was me HAHAH i even told you my dog’s nickname in case you had seen him before. i always love our conversations hahah it feels like we could just talk for hours and hours, especially since we have so much in common hehehe you are literally one of the sweetest people i know on cwc and i’m so glad to call you my friend!!

anyway, this took me so long and it’s not even complete 😔 i really wanted to try making a fic that caters to you and all the things you like reading so i just tried throwing it all in there LOL also peep the banner bc i tried to imitate your blog aesthetic too (which i LOVE by the way). since i didn’t want to leave you empty-handed or for you to think i forgot about you while i complete this fic, i decided to just release it in parts adkjsfals hopefully that’s ok!! 

merry christmas and happy new year, taylor!! I LOVE YOUUU 🥺💖

It was nearly 10pm but the night was as lively as ever with people bustling and weaving along like the small stream that flowed through the middle of the stone-paved walkway. They strolled down the worn path on which thousands of footsteps had passed before them, their breaths lingering in the December air as they laughed together and whispered soft wishes. The harsh bite of winter never deterred couples from coming  out to the walkway; in fact, many lovers used the cold as an excuse to clasp each other’s hands tighter, to press their warm bodies closer together. Even on the harshest nights, the walkway welcomed a handful of couples who would stay until the early hours of the morning. 

This could, in part, be attributed to the walkway itself, or rather what could be found on the walkway. Anyone who stepped along the trodden path would soon find the walkway’s source of life and warmth: a flower stand. Now there were many walkways with flower stands, some even host more than one stand, but none ever seen like this. Even in the middle of winter, the humble stand teemed as though it were early spring with its variety of soft pink tulips, vibrantly purple violas, dainty white snowdrops, and daffodils so yellow they nearly glowed. Each flower was in almost unnaturally pristine condition-- there was never one droopy petal or dried up leaf. Rumor stated that if you bought a bouquet for your significant other, your relationship would surely last a lifetime, outlasting the winters that you might endure. 

Jihoon, of course, knew that this was all a very elaborate marketing scheme to lure out crowds of hopeful couples. While he didn’t have a green thumb himself, he figured that technology must have advanced enough to allow for such beautiful flowers to exist despite the cold, but he wasn’t all too invested in finding out the how’s and what-for’s of the small stand. As long as it brought out the crowds, Jihoon couldn’t care less if the stand scammed naive romantics into throwing away their money for some flimsy symbol of everlasting love. What mattered to him was finding an audience, and he knew, without doubt, that he would find one here. He could already feel the lingering eyes of passersby as he arranged his amp and microphone, filling him with a bubbling anticipation that made his fingers itch for his guitar. 

Despite the tattered appearance of the case, the guitar within seemed to be lined with gold along its edges, gleaming fantastically under the light of a street lamp. Upon closer inspection however, it was apparent that the instrument was well-worn with its own array of scuffs and scratches along the neck and body from its many years of performance. The guitar fit into Jihoon’s hands as if it were molded to be held by him, and he smiled to himself as he strummed each string to check for tuning. Just like that, he felt home. 

“Do you always have to set up so close to me?” At the sound of your voice, Jihoon felt his grin widen, and he immediately looked up to make sure that you saw it in all its smug, cheeky glory. You stood to the side with a pair of stem clippers in hand, which he might have found intimidating had you not been holding a daffodil in the other. The endearing smile that itched at the corners of your lips didn’t do much to scare him either.

“This is where all the foot traffic is, so yes,” he mused teasingly. He then pointed to the flower in your hand. “I see you’re getting ready to shower me in flowers after my performance. People usually throw roses though, you know.”

“Okay, just don’t let it get of hand this time,” you said over your shoulder, already turning back to return to your flower stand. He didn’t dare look away, because on your third step back, you always twirled to face him for a moment to flash your unfaltering smile at him, which he mirrored.“The whole neighborhood must have thought you were having a concert with all the people that came out.” 

“That wasn’t my fault!” he called after you, but you had already returned to your post, greeting several new customers who looked at your bouquets with awe and wonder. 

As you began to gather flowers for a couple’s request, you could hear Jihoon finally open his set with a healing, energetic tune that had the small crowd clapping along to the beat. The first time he had come out to the walkway, it had shocked you how the first note he strummed had immediately taken a hold of you, how it had somehow melted your concentrated frown into a smile with ease. It had been the end of a long day and you were ready to close up shop when a boy had set up for a busking session nearby. Although he only brought one small amp, you felt each note resonate in your chest, and felt the music brush your skin as though it hung in the air like a mist. Suddenly, thoughts of your stressful day had dissipated, dissolved by the boy’s guitar and clear, pure voice. It was unlike anything you felt before.

And yet, it was so easy for you to give in to the enchanting sensation, falling into its embrace like you were reunited friends.  

Now you anticipated the way the melody gently tugged your lips into a smile and how your heart beat seemed to fall into rhythm with each chord. You knew you weren’t the only one so strongly moved by the music though. The customers you were currently tending to, a young couple new to the walkway, had immediately turned their heads towards Jihoon as he continued his set with another lighthearted tune about confessing and butterflies. Their sparkling eyes told you that you weren’t the only one moved by Jihoon’s music, and you couldn’t help but notice how they subconsciously reached for each other’s hands, fingers intertwining fondly. Much to your concern, a wistful sigh escapes your lips at the sight. Your eyebrows furrowed as you felt a dull ache blanket over your chest. 

You tried shaking your head to rid yourself of the feeling, rushing to finish wrapping up the flowers in brown paper and string. “Your bouquet is ready!” you said much louder than intended, snapping the couple from their daze. Both blinked in surprise at their clasped hands as if just realizing how close they’d gotten, and you bit back a giggle when they could no longer meet each other’s eyes. Much like many of your other customers on the nights that Jihoon busked, they immediately joined his audience after paying, unable to get enough of his sweet voice. You stared after them for a bit, feeling somewhat intrusive as they overcame their initial hesitance and held hands once more. And suddenly it was there again: this time it felt more restless like you were waiting, but for what, you didn’t know. 

It wasn’t the first time you felt this way.  In fact, every time it creeped up on you like this, it frightened you how it settled in the pit of your stomach so effortlessly as if it had made a home there, deep inside you. It made you feel like you had been waiting for tens of thousands of lifetimes. Like you had been waiting so long that you forgot what you were waiting for.

At this point, you weren’t sure if you wanted to remember. 

Throughout your life, the weight in your chest had made itself known only a handful of times, usually in quiet moments when the dark felt like it could swallow you up. It was the reason why you took refuge in the bright hustle and bustle of the walkway and why you lingered if only to be surrounded by your flowers. But now, it followed you even in the middle of a crowd, in the midst of the music. 

“Hi! Could I get some roses?” The voice of a new customer finally tugged your attention from the couple, allowing for the pressure in your chest to dissolve for the moment. 

 “Of course you can, sir,” you chirped, relieved for the distraction. “What color?  Would you like a bouquet?”

The customer, who stood alone, seemed to wiggle in thought. “Red, I guess! Don’t worry about wrapping them up! I’ll just take them as is, since I’ll be throwing them to that busker over there.” 

“Oh! Wow, he must have made a real fan out of you, sir.” 

At your statement, he let out a chuckle. “Oh, for sure. I wish he chose a warmer venue though.I guess that can’t be helped,” he said, giving you a meaningful nod, eyes gleaming as they always seemed to. You were taken aback by the sudden realization: You’ve met him before. 

“Right,” you replied absentmindedly, forcing yourself to focus on gathering the last of your customer’s order in an attempt to mask your bewilderment. You were positive that you had never seen this man’s face in your life, yet you were struck with the insistence that not only did you know him, but that he knew you too. He was there, somewhere in your memory. But the closer you tried to get, the further you seemed to step into a murky fog; was it a far away memory or was it just a dream? Chancing a glance at him only served to fluster you even further, especially with the way his smile made you feel as though he could sense your inner bewilderment. You cleared your throat and timidly returned his smile as you handed him his roses. “Anyway uh-- here is your order, sir! He’s about to play the last of his set, so you should probably get over there. Hopefully he likes them!”

“Oh, I’m sure he will love them,” the customer grinned, placing cash in place of the flowers. “Well, I’ll see you around!” 

And with a quick wink, he made his way to join Jihoon’s audience, and once more, you were left to deal with your thoughts on your own. What was it with the customers and launching you into emotional reveries tonight? You decided that that was a good excuse as any to close up shop for the night; you weren’t sure that you’d be able to handle another bout of deja vu or inexplicable longing. Plus you wanted to properly watch Jihoon’s last song, as you always did. You glanced over at him as you cleaned up,  but you were quick to avert your gaze when he suddenly met your eyes and offered you a wide grin. 

As much as you enjoyed his music, you couldn’t ignore how his appearance in your life coincided with these recurring feelings. It was perplexing how it seemed that with one strum of his guitar, he somehow brought you both comfort and simmering unease. But if you were being honest, you couldn’t say you hated it. You knew that if you asked him to set up  a little more upstream, your flower stand would undoubtedly become your haven once more. It was an easy fix. Simple. But even when his weekly busks frequented to every other day, you only found yourself clutching tighter to that moment of elation when he began a performance. 

When you stood there and listened to him play, you had a growing certainty that you would go through any length of suffering if it meant you could keep that moment. 

Jihoon was barely able to sing his last note when the crowd drowned him out with applause and, to his surprise, showered him in several roses from the stand. He caught one in his hand, eyes shining with laughter as he immediately searched for your face. Instead of finding you though, he caught sight of someone that wiped the smile from his lips. Before he could so much as curse under his breath, the man took hold of his microphone and addressed the audience.

“Bravo, bravo! Ladies and gentlemen, please give another round of applause for Woozi, Olympic Entertainment’s feature producer! Woo!” the man boomed a little too close to the mic. “Olympic Entertainment sincerely thanks you for all of your love and support from this past year. We hope that you can continue supporting us and listening to Woozi’s ballads in this upcoming year. Please be on the lookout for his new single that we will be releasing on New Year’s Day!”

As the crowd erupted into murmurs and whispers, the man turned to beam at Jihoon, who replied with a stare as cold as the wind. “Soonyoung, what are you doing here?”

“The boss wants you to stop screwing around and get back to the studio,” Soonyoung said with a shrug. 

“I’m not screwing around! You know damn well why I came out here--”

“Hey, those were his words not mine-- I’m just delivering them.” Jihoon tensed when he felt Soonyoung’s hand on his shoulder, having half a mind to shrug it off. He knew though, that Soonyoung had little choice when it came to the boss’ word, and neither did he. There was no use in taking out his frustrations on his friend, especially when the damage was already done. “You know that I would never have taken it that far if I didn’t have to.” 

Jihoon sighed, nodding. “I know. I’ll just see you tomorrow.”

The crowd gradually dispersed as Jihoon packed away all of his equipment, and suddenly, he felt the full force of winter without the warmth of the crowd shielding him. He hadn’t expected that it would be so cold. After his previous busk sessions, several people in the audience would stay a while longer and approach him, usually to make conversation about his music or to simply thank him for the performance. Now they kept their distance, looking his way discreetly while they whispered about who he really was like he couldn’t hear them. Jihoon scoffed and slammed his guitar case shut, numb fingers fumbling at the clasps.

“Are you okay?” He didn’t have to look up to know that it was you. 

“I’m fine,” he huffed out, jaw clenched. When you didn’t make any move to leave, he gave in and looked at you, a grave mistake on his part. At the sight of your sympathetic smile, he sat back down on the bench; there was no use struggling to put up a front when you seemed to see right through it anyway. You sat on the opposite end of the bench, facing him to show that you were there to listen. After all those times he came here, this was probably the closest you’d ever gotten to him, and yet Jihoon found himself wishing you had sat closer. “Well, I’ve been better.” 

“I’m sorry that I sold that guy those flowers. If I had known that he was going to do that, I--” 

“No, that was all on me,” Jihoon said quickly, unable to let you apologize any further when you were merely doing your job. “You probably think I just came here for some promotional stunt.”

“I mean I didn’t, but now that you mention it…” Without knowing it, Jihoon let out a chuckle at your teasing.  “Even if it was for promotions, I don’t think anyone here would mind. Plenty of people busk to promote themselves. I don’t think that makes their songs any less genuine.” 

He shook his head, the sigh that left his lips hanging in the air for a moment. “I mind. I love my job and everything, but I really needed a break from all that extra stuff. I came here because I knew it would just be about the music. No one had stopped to listen because it was my music or if it was a Woozi production or whatever. They only listened because they liked it. Now I won’t know if that’s actually the case.”

“I don’t see why they can’t enjoy your music while knowing who you are,” you said, eyebrows scrunched together, and Jihoon watched as you rested the side of your head against the back of the bench. Have your eyes always been this captivating? You dropped your voice to a stage whisper. “Is that your secret? Is your music magical only for those who don’t know your true identity?”

“Something like that. Isn’t my music a bit more impressive if I’m just a regular person and not a professional producer?” Jihoon laughed. “I mean, imagine if people knew the secret behind how you grow your flowers in the winter. Don’t you think they’d be less inclined to buy them?” 

You snorted. “I don’t have a secret, though?”

“Oh come on, you literally sell springtime flowers in the winter! You must get them imported or have some kind of fancy greenhouse.” 

“I literally can’t even rent a space to sell my flowers indoors. I can’t afford any of that! They’re just flowers that I’ve grown in my garden. I tell people how I grow my flowers all the time and it doesn’t change anything. It still means something to them,” you said insistently. And then, softer, “Just like how knowing you’re some big shot producer doesn’t change the fact that I’ve never heard music like yours before.” 

Jihoon swallowed, wanting more than ever to close the distance between the two of you. It was a gravity that he felt ever since his first performance, something he had originally attributed to the walkway and how perfect it was for his busks. As he sat here beside you though, the force seemed to tug at his chest almost painfully until it was aching. With his hands clenched, he tore his gaze away from you, unsure of what he was going to say next. His thoughts were fuzzy, like a static television screen going in and out of focus, and the only image he could make out was you. Or at least he hoped that it was you. 

“By the way, ballads? I’ve only ever heard you play happy songs.” 

“This was the only place I could play them,” Jihoon replied quietly. When his eyes met with yours, he was taken aback by how much he meant it; even if he tried to play these songs in the studio, he was certain that it wouldn’t be the same at all. Forcing a smile, he finally met your eyes again. “It was nice while it lasted.” 

“Wait, are you not… are you not going to come back anymore?” 

“I don’t think I should. There wouldn’t be any point, right? Since people know who I am now.” 

“Oh.” I still don’t know who you are. This time, you were the one to turn away from him, a small frown on your lips. A harsh wind came in then, ruthlessly rustling the bare branches of trees and lifting loose petals from the ground around your stand. They swirled in the air wildly for several moments before raining down on where you and Jihoon sat in silence. Seeing how he shivered, you took the scarf off your neck and wrapped it around his own. “Here take this.”

“W-what about you?” When he moved to return the item, you shook your head and smiled.

“I’m used to the cold.”

[wisteriashouse]

a little jealousy.

pairing: kamado tanjirou x sumiyuri hayami (oc)

genre: fluff; kimetsu academy!au

word count: 7429

remarks: another commission by @hinokami-s​!! honestly this one was a bit of a struggle trying to not make it too kdrama like but also with trying my hand with a new character who i don’t really know, so thank you for challenging me with this! i hope you enjoy it <3

The stage lights dim all at once, adding a dramatic flair as the curtains fall - slowly concealing the scene of a young woman bleeding out on the floor and the man cradling her in his arms. The theatre is hushed except for the sound of gears and wheels turning to move the heavy curtains, the audience still reeling in shock over the twist in the plot and the bittersweet ending.

Well, except one person, perhaps.

“Ooh, is the next performance Hayami’s?” Nezuko whispers from next to him, nearly bouncing up and down in her seat with excitement. She hasn’t been able to concentrate much on the entire series of performances showcased by the other clubs at their school, too distracted by the prospect of the finale. Tanjirou only gives a fond smile and nods. Although he’s a lot more calm than Nezuko is, he can’t help but anticipate the next performance as well.

After all, Hayami is going to be the one performing.

“I’m so excited,” Nezuko gushes. “Hayami showed me a bit of what they were working on a while back, and it was already so cool!”

“Well, she is the president of the dance club,” Tanjirou reminds his sister. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’ll be amazing.”

Even in the dim light of the auditorium, he can see Nezuko’s teasing little smirk. “Of course you would think so, brother, with your massive crush on Hayami-”

Tanjirou puts his hand over Nezuko’s mouth before his younger sister can blurt it out to the whole world. “Shush, Nezuko,” he tries to say, but Nezuko only laughs playfully, looking far too amused for a younger sister who’s bullying her dear older brother. “What if someone hears?”

“All the better! You’d have more reason to confess to Hayami then!”

“Nezuko, I swear-”

All the stage lights suddenly blink to life in unison, nearly blinding Tanjirou and making Nezuko squeal in excitement. “It’s starting! It’s starting! Wait, I need to get out my phone and take some videos for Instagram…”

Tanjirou, on the other hand, simply relaxes back into the plush seat of the performance hall, intent on watching the performance properly. It’s rare that he has free time like today, oftentimes being too busy with school, his part time job or his responsibilities at the family bakery to really enjoy himself like a regular high school student would. But Hayami had insisted, even going as far to offer both him and Nezuko free tickets in one of the front row seats, just so the two of them could have some fun and relax.

Well, when she had looked at him so excitedly, explaining all the different shows the performance clubs would be putting on, how could he possibly refuse her good intentions?

Lights flood the stage, the curtains falling to the sides to reveal a group of performers standing on the stage in various confidant poses, their silhouettes outlined against the glowing backdrop. All around them, the speakers start to blare a song - one that Tanjirou is quite sure he’s heard before, but isn’t entirely sure what it is - and it sends the entire audience into loud cheers.

“Oooh, Really Bad Boy by Red Velvet! I approve of this song choice!” Nezuko cheers, waving her phone in the air as the group breaks into a dance. Squinting against the bright lights, Tanjirou tries his best to concentrate on the performance, but he always finds his eyes roaming the performers, as if searching for someone…

“Sing along with us!”

Tanjirou looks up at the stage in surprise at the familiar voice, and his eyes widen when he sees Hayami standing at the very edge closest to him. There’s striking makeup done artfully on her face and she almost glows under the lights of the stage, a fierce yet ethereal aura radiating from her. The sight is almost enough to take Tanjirou’s breath away.

Just at that moment, Hayami glances down at the front row when Tanjirou looks up, and their gazes meet for the briefest of seconds. Hayami’s eyes gleam like fine cut amethysts, sparkling in the light, her platinum hair swinging out behind her in a high ponytail. And when their gazes meet in the middle, Hayami grins at him - a bright, unrestrained sight that has Tanjirou’s heart skipping in his chest.

“Brother, your blush is showing, you know!” Nezuko calls over the heavy bass coming over the speakers, and Tanjirou instantly clasps both hands over his cheeks, feeling slight heat along his palms. At his mortification, Nezuko only laughs harder, tears nearly escaping her eyes and raising her phone to his face. “You’re so cute, brother! Let me take a photo, I’m sure Hayami would love to see it.”

“No.” Tanjirou tries to make a grab for the phone but misses, and he hears the telltale click of Nezuko’s camera phone. With a long, drawn out sigh, he simply gives up and slumps back into his seat, resigned to watching the rest of the performance. There’s no stopping Nezuko when she’s in a playful mood like this, he thinks to himself with fond ruefulness. Well, he doesn’t really mind it, though…

The performance ends with a bang, and Tanjirou joins the audience in giving a standing ovation as the rest of the performers stream onto the stage for their final bow. And as confetti rains down from the ceiling, gold streamers and coloured paper dancing through the air, Tanjirou thinks that Hayami looks absolutely radiant.

As soon as the performance night is over and the performers have all retreated backstage, the audience begins streaming out of the halls, chattering excitedly about all the different shows that were put on that night. Tanjirou, on the other hand, remains firmly rooted to his seat, his bag held tightly to his chest as if he’s carrying glass with him.

“Hayami’s performance was so cool! God, if I knew how to dance I’d join her club right away - wait, I’m not even in high school yet. That’s fine, that’s fine. It just means that I have more time to learn how to dance,” Nezuko glances back to see her older brother not listening to her in the least, instead dedicating his attention to checking the contents of his bag carefully. Curious, she leans over to catch a glance. “What’s that?”

Tanjirou jumps at Nezuko’s question, before he relaxes slightly, chewing at his bottom lip with nerves. “Oh, nothing much. It’s just… um, some flowers.” Nezuko’s eyes widen in interest. Who knew her brother had a romantic bone in his body? “Zenitsu mentioned yesterday that it’s customary for other students to bring flowers for their friends who perform as congratulatory gifts, so I stopped by Kanae-san’s flower shop after school today to get some for her...”

Nezuko immediately reaches for his bag, and Tanjirou holds it high out of her reach, suddenly feeling embarrassed for no reason at all. “What flowers did you get her?” Nezuko chirps, waving her hands high in the air as she attempts to get a look. “Please don’t tell me you got her a head of cabbage or, god forbid, a broccoli flower. Knowing you, brother…”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

Finally giving up on trying to get her hands on Tanjirou’s mystery bouquet, Nezuko only pouts and relents. “Well, since you’ve got flowers to give to Hayami, let’s head backstage! I know a few friends in the drama club who performed today, so they’ll let us in.” Tanjirou frowns a little at how excited his younger sister seems to be in his place.

“It’s almost as if you’re the one giving the flowers to Hayami,” he says. Nezuko beams at him.

“Of course I have to be involved on your behalf, brother!” She explains, her smile all too wide to be innocent, before she leans in to nudge his side and give him a subtle wink. “Just remember to mention me as your wingwoman during your speech on your wedding day, got it?”

Tanjirou groans.

>>>

Backstage is more chaotic than Tanjirou would have thought.

Even though the performance is already over, participants still rush to and fro different rooms, their arms laden with crumpled costumes or props, faces still done with dramatic stage makeup that looks rather strange in the lighting of the corridors. Nezuko leads Tanjirou down to where the dance club’s room is supposed to be, coaching him on how to present a girl properly with flowers with words of advice such as, “don’t do anything Zenitsu-san would do” and “brother, why didn’t you dress up a little for today’s performance”. After reassuring her for the third time that, no, he hadn’t let Inosuke chomp on his bouquet (although the boy had tried to earlier), Nezuko comes to a stop outside an unassuming room at the very end of the corridor.

The paper stuck on the door reads ‘dance club’, the blank spaces decorated with smiley faces and hearts in various doodling styles. He recognises the wink done in purple ink as one done by Hayami’s hand, and a slight smile touches his lips at the sight of it. He’s seen it many times before - left scrawled in the corner of his exercise books when he visits the maid cafe and on post-its during exam periods - so he recognises her handwriting almost instantly.

“Your hair is awful,” Nezuko complains, reaching out to flatten the top of his hair. His hair looks the same as it always has, but it apparently doesn’t quite pass Nezuko’s standards, so he’s forced to stand stock still with his sister trying to fix his hairdo as people walk by. “You could have thought to dress up a little for today, you know?”

Tanjirou frowns, confused. “For what occasion?”

“You, brother,” Nezuko says delicately as she arranges his bangs, “are so dumb sometimes.”

“What do you mean-”

“Unfortunately, that’s the best I can do right now, and we really need to get going before the dance club needs to leave.” Both hands on his shoulders, Nezuko steers him to the door of the dance club before shoving something into his hand. When he looks down, he’s surprised to see himself holding a bouquet of light purple lilies - when had Nezuko taken them from his bag? “Come on, brother! It’s time to shoot your shot! Make Hayami yours! Put a ring on her-”

“I am not proposing, wait, I’m not even confessing to her!” Tanjirou cries, suddenly panicked. Confessing? He doesn’t even know how she feels about him that way! “I’m just giving her some flowers, like Zenitsu told me to do-”

Behind the two of them, the door suddenly swings open.

“Hey, what’s with all the racket right outside our door? If you have something to say, just-” Tanjirou’s wide eyes meet Hayami’s, and for a moment, the two of them simply stare at each other in surprise. Hayami still hasn’t removed her stage makeup, her lips painted crimson red and bold eyeliner only accentuating her clear lilac eyes.

She looks stunning.

“Oh, Tanjirou, Nezuko, I was just about to go find the two of you myself!” Hayami is talking, but Tanjirou doesn’t really hear her words, a deer caught in the headlights and the lilies growing all too weighty in his hands. “I hope you guys liked the performance! We had to rush to change the formations today since one of the members got sick, so I hope it wasn’t too noticeable.”

“I didn’t even notice, that was amazing!” Nezuko smiles, reaching out to squeeze Hayami’s hands reassuringly. “I really loved the performance, and all the song choices! Keep a spot for me in the team when I finally get to high school, yeah? Or better yet, how about you teach me dance? You were so cool today, I really want to be able to dance like that in the future!”

“Oh, it’s nothing much,” Hayami says bashfully, twirling a lock of platinum hair around her finger. Tanjirou catches a hint of a rosy blush on her cheeks. So cute... “I’m sure you’ll be able to do it if you just try!”

Next to him, Nezuko nudges him in the side and gives the flowers in his hands a meaningful look.

“Oh, right,” Tanjirou fumbles over his words, mind seemingly blank. Flowers. “Uhm, Zenitsu said that I should bring flowers as a congratulatory gift when there are friends performing, so…” He holds out the bouquet, and Hayami’s eyes widen in surprise, seemingly noticing it for the first time. Tanjirou can feel his own cheeks burning. “You looked amazing on the stage today, Hayami.”

Hayami looks down at the small bouquet of lilies in his hands for a moment, before she breaks out into an incandescent smile, almost too bright for Tanjirou to look at. “Thank you,” she says, reaching out to take the bouquet. “I’ll take care of them-”

“Darling!”

Right before Hayami can take the bouquet, a taller figure sweeps past Tanjirou with long, confident strides - making a beeline straight towards Hayami - and plops a massive bouquet of red roses into her outstretched hands. “For you!”

He’s tall, taller than Hayami, with dark hair and matching eyes that shine with mirth. His ears are pierced with little black hoops. Tanjirou thinks he’s seen him around a few times before, constantly surrounded by different people while he remains the nucleus of the conversation. Who is he? From his athletic build and height to the easy way he carries himself, light on the balls of his feet… a sports player, perhaps?

“Hey!” Nezuko protests, possibly indignant at watching her brother’s future romantic relations being ruined on the spot, but Tanjirou doesn’t notice, eyes fixed on the newcomer with a furrowed brow. While Tanjirou normally tries to be patient and polite with everyone he meets (save for his first meeting with Inosuke, but to be fair, the boy had thought that Nezuko had stolen something from him), but he can’t help the strange awkwardness he feels around the taller boy. A little rude, but he seems to know Hayami, so…

“Ginjiro, you shouldn’t have,” Hayami lets out a sigh as she looks over at the bouquet. Her fingertips trace the velvet petals. “How much did this cost? A kidney on the black market?”

“Not quite, but close enough!” The boy, Ginjiro, grins wolfishly at her. There’s a sort of… easygoing, unruly charm to him that Tanjirou can’t quite put his finger on, but he can see why the boy is so popular. “Ninety-nine whole Ecuadorian roses! I’m sure you know what that number means, my dear Hayami.”

Hayami rolls her eyes, shaking her head, but she doesn’t look very put off by his blatant flirting, much to Tanjirou’s surprise and slight unease.

“Ninety nine roses… doesn’t that mean eternal love? Usually given to romantic partners…” Nezuko mutters from behind him, and Tanjirou feels his heart drop in his chest. His sister turns to Hayami, eyes wide with shock. “Hayami, don’t tell me this… guy is your boyfriend?”

“No,” Hayami says flatly, just as Ginjiro sings, “Not yet!” and proceeds to laugh merrily as if he hasn’t just declared his intentions to date Hayami in front of them all. To Tanjirou’s shock, Hayami simply sighs and places a hand on her forehead before turning back to him.

“Ignore him, he’s an idiot.” Hayami tells Tanjirou, attempting a smile to lighten the mood. Try as he might, however, Tanjirou just can’t seem to bring himself to give a genuine one in return. “Let me take those flowers from you. I’m really grateful that you made the time to come today, I know how busy you are at the bakery.”

Even as she does take the flowers from him, Tanjirou can’t help but feel that his lilies are dwarfed in comparison by Ginjiro’s scarlet bouquet, crimson red overpowering the delicate lilac. Tanjirou isn’t one to feel ashamed of his family’s financial situation, but in times like this… he can’t help but feel uncomfortable with the wealth displayed in front of him. And for Hayami to not even bat an eyelash, but seem so completely unimpressed...

The gap between him and Hayami seems to grow just a little wider.

“Anyways, I booked a table at the rooftop restaurant you like, just for the two of us,” Ginjiro continues, without giving Tanjirou a single second to speak. “Let’s go hang out, you’ve been so busy the past few weeks… it’s as if I haven’t seen your face at all for months! I am feeling extremely neglected.”

“It’s because I’ve been busy with planning the dance performance,” Hayami retorts with a shake of the head. “Besides, didn’t you just crash the Student Council meeting yesterday just to steal some snacks off me? Don’t lie about neglect, you little ass.”

“What?” Ginjiro puts a hand over his chest, batting his eyelashes so furiously Tanjirou wonders if they’ll fall off. “You know it’s because I missed you, Hayami dear.”

Tanjirou does not know how to act - not when another man is so clearly vying for Hayami’s attention. If he were making Hayami uncomfortable in any way, Tanjirou would have been more than happy to see him off, but Hayami seems to know him, and actually seems… rather close to him.

It makes Tanjirou slightly uncomfortable.

“Oh right, Tanjirou, Nezuko, you haven’t met Ginjiro before, have you?” Hayami says. Stiffly, Tanjirou nods in agreement, but Nezuko pipes up.

“You’re Sato Ginjiro, aren’t you? Captain of the basketball club? I heard Zenitsu complaining about him before, saying that he’s too popular with the girls.” She mutters, folding her arms over her chest and Ginjiro grins widely as Hayami only rolls her eyes. “He’s got quite a… reputation.”

As if trying to ease the awkwardness in the air, Hayami only gives a placating smile, stepping between the two of them. “Right, that’s Ginjiro for you. He’s one of my friends from back since middle school, but he can be overbearing sometimes.” Ginjiro gives a dramatic gasp, acting offended, which Hayami pays no attention to. She then gestures at the siblings, eyes softening slightly as they fall on Tanjirou. “Ginjiro, these are Tanjirou and Nezuko, both dear friends of mine. Nezuko is Tanjirou’s younger brother, still in high school, so you might not have seen her around before. I hope that you all get along.”

That might be a little difficult, Tanjirou’s lips press together uneasily. Nezuko, who’s far more vocal about her opinions, pouts openly. “I don’t want to-”

“Wow, didn’t know that even the middle school kids knew about me,” Ginjiro laughs, and out of the corner of his eye, Tanjirou catches Nezuko making a face. “Only good things, I hope?”

“Hmph, just so that you know, Hayami-” Nezuko begins, but before she can say any more, Tanjirou tugs at her arm lightly, stopping her words in her tracks.

“We should be leaving first, we need to catch the last bus home before it’s too late.” Tanjirou interjects quickly, giving Hayami and Ginjiro an apologetic smile that seems just a hint forced. Nezuko looks like she wants to argue, but a stern look from her older brother has her falling quiet. “I hope you enjoy your dinner later.”

Ginjiro doesn’t seem to notice the tightness of Tanjirou’s mouth nor the reason behind Nezuko’s sulking, only grinning in response. “Oh yeah, we definitely will! The restaurant is a Michelin star that Hayami’s been wanting to try for ages, so I had to tip the receptionist extra to get a reservation. Still,” he winks at Hayami, who only sighs in response, “anything for my dearest Hayami, don’t you think?”

“You’re always like this,” Hayami complains, and Ginjiro laughs, oblivious to the siblings’ discomfort. It feels as though they’re intruding, and Tanjirou would hate to do that if Hayami really did have feelings for her, well, long time friend. Turning to Tanjirou and Nezuko, Hayami frowns a little. “Sorry, I intended on spending some time with the two of you after the performance, but the restaurant’s booking is really, really expensive…”

“It’s no problem.” The words taste wooden in Tanjirou’s mouth but he forces them out, along with the reassuring smile on his face. “I’ll see you next Monday at school, then.”

Ginjiro steps forward, his ever present grin on his face as he extends a hand to Tanjirou. “It was nice meeting you.” As Tanjirou grasps his hand to shake, he swears that Ginjiro squeezes just a little harder than what would be polite. His smile seems more reminiscent of a smirk now. Tanjirou has to bite back a slight wince. “Hope to see you around, buddy.”

He doesn’t sound like he means what he says.

“Let’s go, Nezuko.” With a last wave at Hayami, Tanjirou turns on his heel and walks away from the two of them, Nezuko hurrying to catch up with her brother’s longer strides. Behind them, Hayami bites her bottom lip, wondering what on earth has just happened in front of her earlier. For her own sanity, it would probably be a good idea to keep Ginjiro and Tanjirou very far apart...

“So, shall we get going, darling Hayami?” Ginjiro turns around to look at Hayami, who quickly banishes the pensive expression on her face. Yes, Ginjiro might be an ass and his flirting might be overbearing at times (all the time), but he’s still one of her good friends, and he’s done so much for her too. With a sigh, she can only shake her head. “Don’t bully Tanjirou, okay?”

Ginjiro shrugs airily. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Reaching out, he tugs at her wrist. “Come on, let’s go! They have these artisanal doughnuts that I am absolutely dying for you to try… And of course, it’s my treat!”

Hayami allows Ginjiro to pull her by the hand to his car, but for the rest of the night she can’t help but think of the slightly bitter expression on Tanjirou’s face as he walked away earlier, and how she’s never seen him make such a face before. Slight worry builds up in her as she wonders if she’s done something to upset the ever placid Tanjirou, and Hayami makes up her mind to ask him about it come Monday.

But for now, even the doughnuts don’t taste as sweet.

>>>

Hayami does not get to ask Tanjirou anything come Monday, mainly because Ginjiro does not seem to have any intention of leaving her side and giving her and Tanjirou some alone time. The second her classes are over, Ginjiro appears at the door to walk her to the next, chattering to her excitedly about his new modelling gig and whatnot, and Hayami is far too polite to interrupt when he’s talking about something he’s clearly so passionate about.

It doesn’t help that Ginjiro is suddenly being a lot more…. flirty than usual, with an abundance of sweet and suggestive words paired with a lot of indecent hands that she’s had to slap away. She’s used to this sort of behaviour from Ginjiro, having known him for so long, but today seems more… excessive. Hayami doesn’t know what exactly is up with the boy.

Out of the corner of her eye, she can sometimes see a head of chestnut hair lingering behind pillars or around the bends at corridors, but the second she tries to approach it, Ginjiro either steers her attention away, or the person she’s increasingly desperate to talk to vanishes of his own volition. Tanjirou can’t possibly be avoiding her, can he? Worry gnaws at her insides, even as she sits down to have lunch with Ginjiro in the canteen.

What if he really doesn’t like Ginjiro?

Looking down at her food, Hayami chews on her bottom lip. Today morning has killed her appetite completely, to the point she almost doesn’t feel like eating anything. Still, she already skipped breakfast because she overslept, and it wouldn’t be healthy to miss two meals in a row…

Taking her hesitation for dislike, Ginjiro nudges her in the shoulder. “What’s the matter? Don’t like your bento today?” Hurriedly, Hayami shakes her head, moving to pick up her chopsticks.

“Oh, no, no, I was just spacing out,” she says, but Ginjiro only raises an eyebrow, the perceptive little bastard.

“Well, I have some strawberry mochi here for you, if you want something for your sweet tooth,” Ginjiro smiles, picking up the sweet and holding it up to her lips. Hayami stares at him with an exasperated face, but Ginjiro doesn’t let up. “Come on, Hayami dear. Say ahh-”

“Here, have some takoyaki, Hayami,” someone interrupts all of a sudden, and Hayami looks down to see a round octopus ball being put on her bento. Glancing up in surprise, Hayami is shocked to see the very person that she’s been trying to find all day - Tanjirou. If Tanjirou notices how shocked she is, he doesn’t mention it, only sliding into the seat next to her with his usual placid smile on his face. “I made that this morning myself. Try some and tell me what you think.”

“W-Where’s Inosuke and Zenitsu?” Why is she stuttering? “Don’t you usually have lunch with them?”

“Zenitsu had to go for remedials with Rengoku-sensei, and Inosuke wanted to try catching some of the fish in the school pond,” Tanjirou tells her calmly as he sets down his bento next to hers. Vaguely, Hayami wonders if she should inform Aoi about this so that the discipline council can stop the boar headed boy before the fish meet their ill fates, but then decides it’s better to pretend she never knew about it in the first place. Ignorance is bliss, after all. “Since I was left alone, I thought that I should join you for lunch, Hayami.” Tanjirou smiles politely at Ginjiro, who’s wearing an unusually stoic expression. “I didn’t expect you to be here, Ginjiro-san. I hope you don’t mind me intruding.”

“Not at all,” Ginjiro replies before Hayami can. Although he’s still wearing an easygoing smile, it’s one that he wears around prospective business clients he doesn’t like or when he meets with Hayami’s parents - not a genuine one in the least. “Please, feel free to sit with us. It wouldn’t be right of me to be possessive over a girl I’m not dating yet, would it?”

At Ginjiro’s goading tone, both boys’ eyes lock and Hayami feels electricity rise in the air, static prickling along her skin. Awkwardly, she picks up the takoyaki and puts it in her mouth. It does taste good, but she can’t really enjoy the savoury flavour when this is happening right in front of her.

“Right, just as it wouldn’t be to be possessive over friends, like you and Hayami. Don’t you agree?” Tanjirou says calmly, reaching for his sandwich. Ginjiro’s eye twitches at Tanjirou’s provocative words, but he keeps his cool. Hayami doesn’t understand what is going on.

“That’s true, although Hayami and I are more than just friends,” Ginjiro answers. Hayami frowns, opening her mouth to clarify Ginjiro’s words, but Tanjirou cuts across before she can answer.

“Oh? The two of you must be so close that she sees you as a brother, then. That’s really admirable.”

“You too. Hayami always tells me about how you take care of her like how you take care of your younger sister.”

At a total loss to what’s happening, Hayami slumps back in her seat, feeling the beginnings of a migraine coming on. Watching the two of them take verbal snipes at each other is somehow even less pleasant than watching her parents squabble, so she only gives up and shakes her head, letting them duke it out on their own terms.

Men, she thinks with a sigh. Hopefully, this will wear off by the end of the week.

>>>

Much to Hayami’s exhaustion, it doesn’t end there.

As if that little meeting had only spurred on their competitive urge, Ginjiro and Tanjirou both have started acting very differently from what they’re usually like. On one hand, Ginjiro has turned unbearably flirty, constantly dropping suggestive one liners and his hands somehow always finding their way to her in Tanjirou’s presence. On the other hand, Tanjirou has become excessively helpful whenever Ginjiro is around, offering to help her carry books or papers between classes. While his altruistic personality is something that Hayami has always admired, this goes far beyond what she’s used to.

Ginjiro and Tanjirou only act like this in each other’s presences, though, so Hayami works out that there must be some sort of tension between them - whether they’ve fought before or they just don’t like each others’ faces, Hayami doesn’t know. All she knows is that she doesn’t like being caught in the middle of this.

Which is why she will try her best to avoid having both of them meet, instead choosing to only hang out with one of them at the time. Today, Tanjirou has offered to help her clean the student council room (after Aoi had accidentally let this slip in the corridors), hence here they are, Hayami finally getting to enjoy Tanjirou’s presence for the first time in the entire week.

It’s already the end of the week, and Hayami realises that this is the first time she’s managed to get Tanjirou alone… without Ginjiro butting in some way or another.

When he’s not trying to one up Ginjiro at whatever little game they’re playing, Tanjirou’s presence is as soothing as a gentle summer breeze on a hot day. Instead of being overbearingly nice, with those strange half smiles and hard eyes directed at Ginjiro, his mouth is tilted in a slight, content smile as he wipes at the desk with a cloth, pausing occasionally to sweep his chestnut hair back from his forehead.

“Hayami, you missed a spot here,” Tanjirou points at the corner of the window, and Hayami startles out of her thoughts, suddenly very aware that she was staring. Quickly, she hurries to bring her cloth to the area, but finds it too high for her to reach. Her height has failed her.

Moving to stand on her tiptoes, she tries again, the cloth just inches from the spot of dust on the window. Slightly embarrassed now, Hayami turns to Tanjirou and gives him the most pitiful expression she can muster. The boy’s laugh is gentle, and the sound makes Hayami’s heart flutter in her chest.

“It’s no problem,” Tanjirou tells her, moving towards the back of the room. “I’ll just grab a stepladder from the storage room that we can use.”

“Thanks, Tanjirou!” Hayami calls after him, smiling. Right, this is the pleasant, well mannered Tanjirou that she knows.

“Hey, Hayami-chan, cleaning the council room again?”

At the sound of Ginjiro’s voice, Hayami has to bite back a groan, forcing a suitable smile onto her face as she turns around to face her friend. As usual, one of his hands comes up to rest on her shoulder and she has to fight the urge to bat it away. What is he doing here?

“Yeah, I was rostered for cleanup today since I drew the short end of the stick at the last council meeting. And you,” she pokes his shoulder hard with a finger to emphasize her point, “are not supposed to be in the student council room without express permission from a teacher. Who did you get caught by the last time you were in here, Shinazugawa-sensei?”

Ginjiro’s unflappable grin falters a little at that, looking more like a wince now. “That man chased me all the way to the school gates, I swear my ass was black and blue by the time he let me go.” Hayami rolls her eyes. “ ‘sides, I saw you cleaning the windows from the ground floor and thought I’d give you a hand. Aren’t I perfect boyfriend material?”

Hayami scoffs, fighting the urge to smack him. When on earth will he cool it with the flirty lines?

“Perfect pervert material, more like. It’s your own fault for giving yourself such an awful reputation for peeping.” Shaking her head, Hayami busies herself wringing out the cloth in her hands before returning her attention to the window behind her. When she does, however, she spots Tanjirou standing there with a stepladder in his hands, lips drawn into a tight line as he stares down Ginjiro.

He does not look pleased to see the older boy there.

As if noticing him for the first time, Ginjiro raises a hand in greeting before Hayami can intervene, a sly smile growing on his lips. “Hey, Tanjirou! Coincidence seeing you here.”

“Coincidence, much?” Hayami mumbles under her breath, exasperated. Can they please just let off for five minutes and let her clean her windows in peace? Shaking her head, she turns around to face the window so that she doesn’t have to look at either of them. Why can’t she just reach that spot?

“It’s a coincidence seeing you here too, Ginjiro-san.” Tanjirou’s voice is clipped. “I was just helping Hayami clean the student council room today. What are you doing here?”

You’re not supposed to be here, Hayami can hear the underlying meaning to his words. And while she does agree that Ginjiro really needs to stop sneaking into the student council room as and when he likes, Hayami feels like Tanjirou is being a little too hostile towards her friend.

“Oh, I was just coming by to ask Hayami something, but I guess I could help with the cleaning too.” To Hayami’s surprise, the cloth in her hands is suddenly plucked out of her grasp. Turning around, she sees Ginjiro standing there with a grin. “Here, let me help you out. I’m perfect boyfriend material, remember?”

Hayami is about to argue that Tanjirou is right there with a stepladder, but Ginjiro is already leaning forward to wipe at the window without giving her any time to move out of the way. As a result, Hayami ends up caught between the glass panes of the window and Ginjiro’s front, far too close for her liking.

“I can’t believe that for all your height, you’re still shorter than me,” Ginjiro teases in a sing-song voice, leaning over to wipe at the window. Part of her swears that he’s doing this on purpose, the little bastard. Hayami scowls, pushing at his chest with both hands in annoyance.

“Wait, Ginjiro,” Hayami snaps, patience quickly running out. “Get out of the way and let me out before-”

There’s a sudden crash behind both of them, and Ginjiro and Hayami whirl around to see Tanjirou standing there with a tense expression on his face. The stepladder lies at his feet, but he makes no move to pick it up.

For a moment, Hayami wonders if Tanjirou might say something unkind - the look on his face is truly something to behold. Tanjirou’s usually good at controlling his emotions (how else would he be able to put up with both Inosuke and Zenitsu at the same time), but this time, he doesn’t seem to be faring as well at reigning in his emotions. Ginjiro, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to notice just how much he’s managed to rile Tanjirou up, instead slinging one arm over Hayami’s shoulder.

“Right, Hayami, I wanted to ask if you’d like to come over to my house later after this. I’ve got some problems with literature homework, I just don’t get Macbeth.” Grinning, he nudges Hayami in the side. “We can catch a movie after, too. Sounds nice, doesn’t it? It’s a weekend tomorrow, and I’m sure your parents wouldn’t mind if you slept over at my house for the night.”

“I-” Hayami begins to say, but is interrupted by Tanjirou.

“Hayami usually comes over to my house on Friday nights, so I don’t think she’ll be able to go with you,” Tanjirou says tersely. Hayami frowns. She was about to say that herself, sure, but the fact that Tanjirou is speaking for her instead leaves her indignant. Hayami can speak for herself. “My mother’s already cooked for her, and besides,” he turns to her, “Nezuko misses you too. She says she hasn’t seen you for the entire week. Hanako, Shigeru, Rokuta, especially.”

Well, Hayami has been busy planning the next dance performance - it’s competition season for the performing arts, so she hasn’t had the time to go over to Tanjirou’s house as often as she likes. Still-

“Masako misses you too,” Ginjiro interjects, before Hayami can get a word in once more. “You know how my little sister is, she adores you. Besides, you’ve known my family longer, haven’t you? You should come with me, I’m sure you can visit Tanjirou’s family another day.”

At that statement, Hayami can feel her temper starting to rise. For Ginjiro to claim that his sister misses her is one thing, but to bring up their friendship to strong-arm Tanjirou’s aside is a huge no-no for her.

“I-”

“What exactly,” Tanjirou’s voice is completely level, and Hayami nearly has to bite back a shiver at his cold tone, “are you trying to imply here, Sato Ginjiro?”

She’s never heard Tanjirou like that before.

Ginjiro scoffs, shaking his head, that easygoing smile dropping to reveal a face full of seething jealousy. “Look here, Kamado, you’re the one who brought up the topic of family first. As if you weren’t trying to manipulate Hayami into visiting your house for your own gain-”

“Enough!”

At the sound of Hayami snapping, both boys immediately shut up. Hayami’s arms are folded over her chest, teeth gritted, and she pauses a moment to take a deep breath before she starts laying it all on the two of them.

“The two of you have been unbearable this entire week! I don’t care about whatever is going on between the two of you, but don’t you drag me into this! I already have my own issues with the dance performance coming up, and my parents,” she has to fight back tears at this point, the words simply spilling out of her as if a dam has broken somewhere inside of her, “are coming home sometime next week! I’m already massively stressed, and I don’t need the two of you adding on to it! So if the two of you aren’t done with your petty little argument, then I’m leaving first!”

With that, she storms out of the student council room, too angry and tired from her little rant to think too much about what she’s just said. Behind her, Ginjiro and Tanjirou stare after her back in shock at her little outburst, too stunned to respond.

Out of nowhere, the shrill sound of a ringtone fills the air between the two of them. Ginjiro fumbles to pick up his phone, pressing it to his ear.

“Masako? Yeah, yeah… I’ll buy some sushi for you on the way home. You’re hungry right now? Alright, I’m coming…” When he hangs up, Ginjiro gives Tanjirou a look out of the corner of his eye, the air between them so thick with awkwardness Tanjirou thinks he could choke on it.

“Okay, look, man, I shouldn’t have said what I said earlier.” Ginjiro says all of a sudden, words stilted as he fumbles with them. Tanjirou looks at him in surprise for a moment, before he sighs and relents.

“I get it. For what it’s worth, I’m… sorry for what’s been happening the past week.” Ginjiro gives an awkward laugh in response, before moving towards the door.

“Well, I gotta go now, so…” He purses his lips, glancing over at the Hayami’s bag on the table. “Could you take that to Hayami and tell her I’m sorry?”

“I got it.” Tanjirou watches as Ginjiro makes a face, as if he wants to say something, but he apparently decides against it and simply leaves without another word. Once left alone in the student council room, Tanjirou runs a hand through his hair and lets out a long, heavy exhale. What exactly came over him just now?

Regardless of whatever it was, it was still unacceptable behaviour for him, and Tanjirou knows that he needs to apologise. With a sigh, he picks up Hayami’s bag and moves towards the door, intent on clearing up this mess before he heads home for the day.

She’s nowhere to be seen, but Tanjirou has a feeling that he knows just where she is.

Walking out of the school gates, he makes his way towards a small neighbourhood playground nearby. And sure enough, beneath the large cedar tree that flourishes there, he sees Hayami sitting beneath it with her knees drawn to her chest, her chin resting on her knees. Her hair is undone, and slightly messy from where she must have run her fingers through it in frustration.

Tanjirou feels awful, but he continues to step towards her. If Hayami notices his presence, she doesn’t say anything, not even when Tanjirou moves to take a seat beside her, but neither does she tell him to leave her alone. He decides to see that as a positive.

“Your bag,” Tanjirou offers, setting down her bag next to her. Peeking up, Hayami gives the bag a look before she buries her face in her knees again.

“Thanks.” Short and curt. But not… angry. That sends relief flooding through Tanjirou, and gives him the courage to do what he came here to do.

“I’m sorry,” he offers meekly, but his words and intentions are genuine. For a moment, Hayami doesn’t respond, but eventually she seems to relax just a little before she speaks.

“Yeah, I’m sorry too… for blowing up like that.”

Tanjirou winces as he recalls Hayami’s anger on full display. “Well, we deserved it,” he tells her honestly, and Hayami turns her head so that she can pin him with a stare.

“I don’t blame you for being so tense, Ginjiro is unbearable at times and I completely understand that.” Tanjirou can’t help but nod along as Hayami speaks. “But I really didn’t know why you weren’t just… I don’t know, ignoring his antics or whatever! Surely you know better than to play into his hands?”

Tanjirou presses his lips into a line as he thinks about all the times during this past week that Ginjiro has put his hands on Hayami, or tried to monopolize her time, and the same, irksome feeling rises up in him once more. Ah, Tanjirou’s eyes widen in realisation. It was-

When he glances up, Hayami is still looking at him, waiting for an answer. However, Tanjirou can only give a slight smile, and shakes his head.

“Sorry,” he says. “I don’t know what came over me. It won’t happen again.”

“I hope it doesn’t,” Hayami huffs, but Tanjirou can tell that she’s calmed down now. Both of them sit in silence for a moment, until Tanjirou feels something tugging gently at his sleeve. Turning around, he looks at Hayami, who’s glancing away towards the playground where the children are running about, the sounds of their laughter filling the air. There’s slight colour dancing along her cheeks, but Tanjirou can’t tell whether it’s from the light of the setting sun or something else...

“Still,” she begins to say, looking slightly hesitant, and Tanjirou tilts his head to the side as he waits for her to continue. “Still… Can we go to your house for dinner? I mean, it’s like you said, I miss Rokuta and Hanako, and the rest of them as well…”

Tanjirou laughs. “Of course we can. You’re always welcome at my home, remember?” Rising to his feet, he extends one hand to Hayami. “Come on, Hayami.”

Hayami blinks at his hand before she reaches out to take it. Her fingers wrap around his calloused ones, and he hoists her to her feet. “We should hurry. Mother cooked takoyaki and karaage for dinner tonight, so if we don’t hurry, Nezuko and Takeo will eat them all.”

Hayami’s eyes widen at the sound of Kie’s home cooking waiting for her. “What? Why didn’t you tell me?” Tightening her hold on Tanjirou’s hand, she pulls him down the road towards his house. “Let’s go! Let’s go!”

Tanjirou only smiles, and follows Hayami with slower, steadier steps as she practically skips down the road. Although this storm has blown over without much incident, Tanjirou is more than aware that these affections for Hayami will only continue to grow with the passing of time.

He really should tell Hayami about these feelings that he has for her soon.

[aperrywilliams]

Love and concern (Dad!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

(Not my gif!)

Masterlist

———————

Summary: Spencer is concern about the first school day of his daughter.

Word Count: 1315.

Rating: General Audiences. Dad Spencer Fluff.

Warnings: Mention to bullying.

A/N: Happy Father’s day to the dad that was robbed from us, Spencer Reid.

——————–

The alarm rang at 6:00 am, as scheduled. Sleepily I turned to face the nightstand to turn it off. After a groan of dissatisfaction, I turn to the other side and saw I was alone in bed. Spencer wasn’t next to me. I rubbed my eyes to shake some of the sleep out of my body. I got up on the way to the kitchen and saw Spencer busily making coffee and carefully cutting some fruits and putting them in a tupperware. He was still in pajamas.

"Spencer... what are you doing already up? It’s only 6:02 in the morning, the alarm rang two minutes ago…”. I said in my usual drowsy voice.

"I just wanted to do a few things before going to shower...". His voice was a combination of concentration and concern at the same time. Spencer didn't even look up to speaking to me. I approached the kitchen counter where he continued the task of cutting fruits and settling them in the tupperware.

"My love, I think she won’t eat all this amount of fruit today...". I told him while I watching the tupperware was full of slices apples, oranges and bananas.

"What if she gets hungry sometime?. I think a sandwich probably isn't enough. What if she gets anxious?. The best thing would be for her to calm anxiety with something healthy. Furthermore, we know the nutritional content of snacks in schools is standard for all kids. I'm not saying it's a bad thing, but if she needs something else I wish she could have it…”. Spencer said it, now focus on carefully wrapping the sandwich next to the tupperware with fruit.

"Maybe… could it be you are the anxious one?". I asked with a frown. Having said that, he looked at me for the first time this morning.

"Me?… No!, I just want my daughter to have everything she needs on her first day of school”. Spencer said solemnly, taking the sandwich and putting it in the lunch box, the item prepared for that specifically purpose.

"Spencer Reid, I’ve known you for 8 years, you can't hide it from me you are nervous or worried about something". I said him with a severely tone for to take me seriously this time. Deep down myself I thought I knew what his concern was about, but I wanted him tell me about it. He was silent for a few minutes. Spencer put his forearms on the counter and looked at me with a pout.

"And if she doesn’t like it?, and if happens something?... it supposed school should be a good experience for her. I don't want her to have a bad time on it…”. I could see how Spencer clenched his teeth just thinking in that worst scenario. I approached to Spencer to stroke his back and help to release some of the evident tension of his body.

"I can realize your apprehension, but we already had the Kindergarten experience and I think it was quite successful, don't you think?" I said now, nudging him gently in the ribs.

“I know, but Kindergarten is a much more controlled environment, there are fewer children and there is more flexibility in activities. At school there are more children and teachers has less control. The prevalence of bullying in the first year of school increased from 25% to 30% between 2015 and 2019… it’s a huge ratio!... what's more, the latest NCES reports say the gap between boys and girls is widening. That means our daughter has almost 1.5 more chances of being bullied just because she’s a girl!...”. Spencer said the last sentence in a high pitch which denoted it was something extremely disturbing to him.

"Spencer, stop it now if you don't want to get the divorce papers by mail". I said flatly so he stopped talking. He begun rambling further than I was able to bear in that moment. I was beginning to terrify myself. That was enough for him to stop talking and nervously start fidgety his hands. I took his hands with mine to try to calm him down before speaking. "Hey, I know you are nervous, I’m too, but this is all about the things she has to experience...". I said trying to encourage him.

"I know. I really know all things are you saying, but I love her too much and I couldn't stand to see her suffer because some asshole says something hurtful to her or they ignore her or...". I could see the gears in his head spinning endlessly.

"That doesn't have to happen. You are trying to anticipate all possible outcomes and we don't know how it’ll really be like. Why should it be a bad experience for her? It doesn't have to be…”. With one of my hands I started to sort his hair and stroke it to cheer him up a bit. I knew exactly where the conversation was going.

"But it happened to me. And I don't want something like that happened to her. (Y/N), school can really be a nightmare…” he confessed with a grimace of evident discomfort.

"I know it my love. I didn't have a great time at school at first either, but I think our daughter will be better able to face the challenges of her new life than either of us. She is as smart as you and as stubborn as me, she’ll know exactly what to do. Plus, she has her parents who love her very much and who will always be there to support her…”. Spencer let out a sigh as he took me by the waist and burying his head on my shoulder.

"Yes, I know. She’s a wonderful little girl. Like her mother". After saying it Spencer moved away from my shoulder to look at me and give me an intense kiss on the forehead.

"And like his father. Don't forget that. You have done an excellent job Spencer. She loves you and trusts you utterly. There could be no closer bond than yours. Believe me that makes me even jealous sometimes…”. I said managing to get a smile out of Spencer.

"Do you think so?..." he asked some blushing. He knew I was telling the truth.

"Of course I do! Do you know who is the one who doesn’t want to go to sleep because 'daddy' has not read her good night story?. She only accepts I do it when she knows you are traveling”.

“(Y/N)… I just want her to be happy. I don't care what I will have to do to make sure she will happy”. I knew he was genuine. If Spencer had to sacrifice himself for our daughter, he wouldn't even think twice.

"I believe it. I believe you. And I’m sure if you think it’s necessary to go to aunt Penelope to chase some idiot who hurts her, you’ll do so regardless of what I say or how much I protest…”. We both started laughing. I looked at the clock on the wall and it was a little after 6:30. "Okay, go to shower, I'll wake up the sleepy beauty and we'll make breakfast, ok?". Spencer nodded, catching my lips with his.

“I love you. Thanks for understanding me and supporting me... always”. Spencer said whispering in my ear.

"I love you too. So much. Now go… go to shower”. I instructed him. Like a child with a commanded task he walked to the bathroom. Before closing the door he peering his head out to say something.

"Maybe I should ask Emily for the day off... and I don't know, stay out of school in case she needs something...". The look I returned must have been so much intense and harsh enough for him to give up on his idea himself. "Or maybe not…". That said, he closed the door and turned on faucet of the shower.

———————

[terresdebrumestories]

Available for consultation

FANDOM: The Old Guard (2020) SERIES: - RATING: General audiences WORDCOUNT: 4 776 words PAIRING(S): None CHARACTER(S): Nile Freeman (POV), Yusuf Al Kaysani, Andromache the Scythian, Niccolo di Genova (mentioned), Sébastien Le Livre (mentioned). GENRE: Mutual care, Nile Freeman character introspection. TRIGGER WARNING(S): None that I can think of :) SUMMARY: Nile misses her mother but doesn't know how to talk about it or with who. fortunately, Bâtard the emotional support tortoise is here to help. NOTE(S): This was originally written for Nile Week 2020 but never put online because of reasons, so now here it is, longer and better written than it was :D Hugest thanks to @avaniesque for the most excellent beta work :D [ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3.]

Nile gasps when something soft bumps against her foot, hurriedly wiping at her cheeks as she turns towards the door. It looks empty at first, the cobwebs they didn’t bother dealing with earlier in the day gently swaying in the air. There’s some shuffling along the dusty floor, a light click of nails on stone, and then a small oblong head appears near the bottom. This is swiftly followed by short scaly legs and a black and brown shell wrapped in a crocheted lab coat. Nile tenses, unprepared for any sort of human company at the moment, but relaxes when it becomes apparent Booker has not elected to follow his pet around.

Said pet has now fully entered the living-room and is beelining for a strawberry resting against her right pinky toe. It looks good enough to eat, as does the rest of what Booker feeds it, which Nile still doesn’t really understand but who is she to tell Booker how to care for his pet? Bâtard, of course, is unconcerned by her surprise and eventually gets to chomping on the strawberry.

Nile’s eyes are dry by now, the tight press of sadness around her heart still present but past its peak, at least for now. It still takes her a couple of seconds to realize the small square of bright white on the side of Bâtard’s outfit is a piece of paper. She picks it up to find a few words from a hand that hasn’t yet lost the impeccable penmanship of its first life. Apparently it’s hard to let go of habits people beat into you with a stick. The note reads : “He’ll keep your secret as long as you keep paying. First one on me.” It makes Nile smile.

(Andy, Nicky and Joe are all just as capable of impeccable calligraphy, but when free not to pay attention to it they tend to revert to script letters. Booker is the only one who insists on torturing them all with permanent cursive written with fountain pens on special paper.)

She doesn’t know Booker all that well, yet. Seven years ago, he was the quiet grumpy member of the group who didn’t seem to care much whether Nile stayed or left. Then he was the one who made a pretty compelling case against Nile seeing her family again—revealing himself to have some unresolved issues in the process—and then he was the one whose issues exploded all over the rest of the group. Now he’s mostly the one who was brought back way too soon, who knows it, and tries to make himself as scarce as possible because of it.

Mostly, it means that while Nile is the one who’s exchanged the most words with him so far, it’s also pretty much been limited to the topic of...well. His tortoise. All in all, much less informative about the man compared to just watching him settle said tortoise up in every safehouse they use, no matter how temporary. (Nile would help, but she’s not entirely sure how the others would take it. It seems prudent not to.) Or looking at the cozies the tortoise parades around on a regular basis...or, as the case may be, discovering he’s taken the time to bedeck his precious reptile in a new outfit for the sole purpose of leaving it (uncharacteristically) unsupervised in Nile’s company just so she has someone to talk to.

“You’re not who I want to talk to either,” she says, because she’s under no illusion that her solitude today has been accidental. “I mean, I know they’re trying I just—”

Nile sighs, wiping at her face in a vain attempt to clear her head, but the gesture only brings fresh moisture to her eyes as she tries to swallow down her frustration. It feels almost silly, in the grand scheme of things, to be this upset over this, but, well... Hearts do what they want, and there’s nothing Nile can do about that, so eventually she looks down at Bâtard’s scaly little head and tells the tortoise:

“It’s my mom’s birthday tomorrow. She’s turning sixty-five and I—”

Nile claps a hand on her mouth to stifle the sob wrenching itself out of her, but it feels piercing and loud in the quiet evening air nonetheless. She breathes around it for a bit, unwilling to attract company just yet, and reaches down to rub Bâtard’s head with her forefinger.

“I want to be with her,” she eventually confesses to the tortoise. “I want to be there and hug her, I—I miss my mom.”

Nile knows she can call. They’ve got burner phones, Copley’s skills to keep them hidden, and an uneasy truce with Quynh ensuring the biggest threat they’ve faced so far isn’t much of one for now. Three years ago she wouldn’t even have had that: her mother and brother both convinced she was dead and buried somewhere in the mountains of Afghanistan. She believes with all of her heart that her mother and brother would never blame her for living when they can’t.

Her mother is starting the second half of her sixties, and she’s not there to see it. Her mother, who’s growing older and greying a little at the temples. Her mother, who deserves better than never knowing when they’ll see each other again, with little-to-no news in between visits. Her mother, who was there for her in every way she could and every way that counted, and for whom Nile wants to be there but can’t. Her mother, who will not be there forever.

(Sometimes, the thought hits Nile out of nowhere, and it takes an impossible effort not to drop everything right then and there to jump in the first flight to Chicago.)

“It’s just—” Nile pauses, trying to pick her words so she can really make Bâtard understand, as impossible as that is, and continues : “They’re great. All of them. They’re—even Booker’s not so bad. I mean, I’m kind of stuck in the middle of the family feud so that’s not the best feeling, but... They’ve gone above and beyond to help me feel welcome, they’ve taught me so many amazing things…. They’re just...not my mom.”

Bâtard, done with his strawberry, lifts his head to look at her, and Nile swears he even leans into her scratching, just a little. It’s a pleasant surprise and she finds herself smiling, not very bright but present nonetheless. It soothes something in her, too, not to be alone right now even though she’s not ready for human company. Both her mother and Jordan have allergies so they’ve never had pets before, and Nile never really longed for one either. Right now, though, she thinks she understands a little better what endears them to people.

“I’m...scared,” she admits, keeping her voice quiet like it’s going to make a difference. “I know I’m going to lose her one day, that’s inevitable, but I don’t want to find out about it months later because my brother couldn’t reach me...I don’t want to find out about his death from nephews and nieces who’ll barely know who I am, if they know I exist at all.” Nile sighs again, sobs crowding in her throat and tightening her voice as she admits: “I wish I hadn’t listened to Booker.”

That last admission is what breaks the dam, and all of a sudden Nile is sobbing again, and she couldn’t stop if she wanted to. There’s misery here, and anger too, maybe even more than there was at the beginning. It was...easier, in a way, to pretend to be dead. She had to mourn, of course, and that tore at her and still does sometimes, but it was a clean cut. It was simple.

Now her mother knows she’s alive and her brother knows and it’s a relief for all of them, but it also means Nile has to be the one consciously deciding not to call home until she’s in a safe enough place to do so, not to text until she can do it from a sufficiently untraceable phone. The temptation there is a hundred times harder to resist because it would be so easy not to.

“If it makes you feel better,” Joe’s voice says from the threshold, “I think we can all sympathize with that sentiment.”

He’s being quiet and careful—it’s the middle of the night after all—but Nile is still startled, and she pretends to glare at him until he tilts his head in quiet enquiry. In response she sighs, wipes at her wet cheeks again, and waves him over. He smiles, something almost like relief in it, and steps lightly into the living room.

“Mind the doctor,” Nile tells him, gesturing at the remains of the strawberry, as he lowers himself on the ground next to her.

“The doct—you mean Bâtard?”

“Yeah he’s—”

In that instant, Nile realizes she has no idea where Bâtard went. He was chilling by her feet, seemingly content to go to sleep soon, and now he’s nowhere to be seen. The realization is enough to send Nile’s heart racing, horrified at the thought of being the one under whose watch Bâtard meets an unfortunate end.

Sure, it isn’t her pet and she and Booker aren’t really close—not like she’s becoming with the others, at any rate—but 1) Bâtard doesn’t deserve to die and 2) it doesn’t take a genius to realize his demise would be absolutely disastrous for Booker’s mental health, and no one wants to see the consequences that could have on the rest of them. Joe must have gone through a similar realization, because as soon as Nile falls quiet he tenses and gets back up into a crouch.

“Please tell me we didn’t lose the tortoise,” he whispers, like he thinks Booker might be listening in on them.

“We didn’t lose the tortoise,” Nile replies because it’s barely been five minutes and Bâtard cannot possibly have gone far in that time frame.

“Good,” Joe says while Nile rummages through her pocket for her phone and turns the flashlight on, “because I don’t think any of us are prepared to deal with the fallout of—”

“We did not lose the tortoise,” Nile interrupts, her tone firm enough to pretend she’s not actually nervous about this. “Can you turn the light on? I’m getting nowhere with this.”

Joe does, and Nile spots Bâtard almost instantly, ambling in his unhurried stroll towards the fridge like he knows where the treats come from...maybe he does, Nile really doesn’t know enough about tortoises to tell. Either way, it’s a relief seeing him there, and she turns to let Joe know she’s found their target.

“Oh thank God,” Joe sighs, sagging with it. “I really don’t want to find out what Booker would be like if we lose him.”

“You know,” Nile remarks as she follows Bâtard’s mosey to the fridge, “I’ve been thinking maybe it’s time the lot of you had a talk about this.”

Joe winces, and Nile can sympathize with that if she’s really honest. She doesn’t feel the same about what happened, but then she doesn’t have a shared history with Booker the way the others do; it’s easier for her to let go faster. Still, Booker’s been back for nearly three months now, and Nile is getting tired of feeling like she needs to be walking on eggshells between the two parts of the group. Joe sighs.

“Which ‘this,’ do you think?”

“All of them,” Nile retorts, careful to keep her voice gentle. She’s not trying to force anyone into anything, after all. “Just...it’s been months, and you’re still avoiding each other. You all need to talk.”

Joe sighs again, running a hand over the nape of his neck. He looks like he might be ready to talk with someone, but the very thought of it makes Nile want to recoil. Another day, maybe. When she’s got more energy, and more space in her head for other people’s problems.

Not right now.

“Remember you’re on my strawberry,” Nile says, smiling to turn it half into a joke, “if you need a consultation you pay your own fee.”

“Alright,” Joe chuckles, good natured even in the middle of the night. “That’s fair.”

He sobers up soon after, growing quiet and serious to ask: “Is it working for you? Or would you like to tell me what’s going on? I’ll even listen for free, if you’re short on strawberries.”

Nile snorts. The truth is, she does feel better for having told him what was going on, even if her ‘consultation’ was accidentally cut short. She’s not sure how much of this she wants to share with the team just yet. There’s never an easy way to tell people who want to help you that they can’t because they’re simply...not who you want at that moment.

“Actually, I’m good right now,” she tells Joe. “Take you up on it another time?”

Joe visibly hesitates, something a little worried in his frown, so Nile gives a fond smile and leans up to squish him in a hug as much as she can manage.

“Thank you,” she tells him, relaxing when he returns the embrace just as tight and actually lifts her up against him. “I’m good, I promise. It’s not─you can probably guess most of it, honestly. I just...I feel kind of awkward about it, I guess.”

“Because we’re too close?” Joe guesses, and Nile nods.

“Sometimes it’s just easier to talk to someone uninvolved.”

“Well,” Joe says, something too wet in his throat to be only about Nile, “I’m glad you have that then. Just...just know I mean it.”

“I know,” Nile promises, chest warming from the care and the obvious concern. “Now go to sleep, old man.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Nile gives Joe a playful shove, snorting when he pretends to stumble, and watches him go with the stretch of a smile sinking into her cheeks. Slowly, the air around her grows still again, the vague sounds of a forest at night and a door creaking barely even noticeable.

How much sleeping is actually taking place on the other side of the safehouse, Nile doesn’t know. She learned very quickly that no one on this team is capable of normal sleep patterns. It’s quiet all the same, and after a few seconds of standing in place, she goes to the fridge, retrieves a peach quarter from Bâtard’s snack box and she plops the offering in front of him, turns the light off, and sits back down next to the tortoise.

“Alright,” she tells him, “maybe I wasn’t completely fair with your dad. I mean...he was wrong, but it’s not like he was trying to be cruel. And he did have a bit of a point.”

She still can’t quite stand the thought of losing her family. It’s unavoidable, she knows. One day, maybe, she’ll make her peace with it, but for now...no. She doesn’t want to think about that any more than she already has tonight.

“I know there’s a purpose,” Nile tells Bâtard. “I’ve seen it. I’ve witnessed it. And we’re getting better at it! I know I’m doing more good here than I used to as a soldier...but sometimes I wish there wasn't a purpose and I could just go home.”

Bâtard, either oblivious to or unconcerned by Nile’s predicament, keeps munching on his piece of peach, and Nile can’t help but smile down at him, reaching to rub at his head once more.

“You really are a good listener,” she tells him. “You’re still not my mom though. She’s the one I want to talk to.”

Bâtard looks up then, and straight at Nile with something that could almost pass for a purposefully flat expression...and, really, he’s not wrong. It’s nearing three am here which makes for...maybe ten or eleven in the evening in Chicago? And sure, Mom’s not so young anymore and could probably use the sleep...but today is her birthday, and Nile’s always tried to phone her on the day before, and she has a burner phone with her so, really, what’s stopping her?

Maybe the possibility of displeasing Andy, a bit. But, Nile thinks as she dials, they’re leaving tomorrow aren’t they? If she’s going to do it, at least she’s picking the least inconvenient time for it.

“N─yes?” Mom’s sleepy voice mumbles into the phone, better at the incognito game than she was when it all started two years ago. “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” Nile says, and smiles at her mother’s joyful, wordless exclamation. “Am I waking you up?”

“Nevermind that,” mom chides, “nevermind that! How are you? Where─well no, you can’t tell me where you are, but how are you?”

“Better now,” Nile says in a sigh, warmth and bittersweetness spreading in her chest as she leans back against the wall, finger still tracing circles on Bâtard’s head. “I mean. I miss you, but at least I get to hear you now.”

“Oh, I miss you too baby,” Mom says, tears audible in her voice, “but I’m so glad you called! Don’t tell your brother, but it’s definitely my favorite present this year!”

Nile smiles again, a little wobblier than she’d like, maybe, but not forced. This isn’t ideal and she wants more, but it’s better than not calling the way she’d planned to do. At her feet, in the dim silvery light of the moon, Bâtard looks just a little smug.

“Not a word,” Nile promises, knowing her mother is going to share the news herself anyway. “How was your day?”

“Oh it was nice! You know how I told Marjory down the street I felt ready to celebrate a little more this year now I got used to you being dead and all, so she treated me to lunch at that new Italian on the corner─you tell your Nuncio he was right, by the way, osso bucco is delicious. And then we went for a stroll in the park, and I was a little worried, because I’m still supposed to be grieving, but you’re alive and I wasn’t sure I’d look suitably emotional when we passed your favorite spots, but I do miss you so it really wasn’t that hard and all in all it was nice and Marjory’s none the wiser so I’m calling it a success.”

“I’m sorry,” Nile says, unsurprised when Mom tuts at her in response. “I know, I know. I still wish you didn’t have to lie to her.”

“Nile, baby, if Marjory knew, she’d understand. Now you stop worrying about her and tell me what your day was like.”

“It was alright,” Nile says, rolling her neck as the tension slowly seeps out of it, the breaths coming slower and easier now that she’s actually doing what she’s wanted to do all day. “I missed you. Jaamal taught me how to draw a dog, though, and then Antaram kicked my butt in training again.”

“Just you wait a few years,” Mom says with a chuckle, “then you can take advantage of her age.”

Nile snorts, even though she seriously doubts Andy will let an aging body get in the way of remaining the best fighter of the group. She might look past forty─although she doesn’t remember how long she’d lived before she died the first time─but she’s also been fighting since before horses were domesticated (or near enough), and all that expertise doesn’t just go away.

It’s still an amusing thought, though, so Nile chuckles along with her mother for a bit before continuing.

“It’s not that bad. I’m learning a lot.”

“Of course, of course! I’m just saying.”

“Of course,” Nile repeats, still smiling. “Anyway, that’s about it. Nuncio made us tagine, Jaamal made fun of him because apparently he cooks like a christian─I’m pretty sure that’s an inside joke. And then I was feeling a little down so Blàsi lent me Bâtard, and now I’m here.”

“Is Bâtard Franklin’s name?” Mom suggests when she hears Nile hiss at her slip up.

“Yes, but I don’t think he deserves it,” Nile says, grateful for her mother’s help. “I think we’re bonding. Either that or he just wants me for my fruit.” Mom chuckles. “He’s wearing a doctor’s outfit right now, by the way. I think it’s one of the homemade ones.”

It looks lumpier than the ones Bâtard wore at the beginning, at any rate, but in a way that makes it even cuter. Not that she needs the cozies to find Bâtard cute anymore. It’s entirely possible the tortoise doesn’t care one whit about her─she really doesn’t know a lot about them─but it’s clear that this little late night conversation was enough for Nile to bond with him.

“Oh, well, send me a picture if you can,” Mom says with the tone of a connoisseur readying to look at a newbie’s attempt, “see if I can give Blàsi some pointers.”

“I’ll try my best, but you know I can’t make promises,” Nile says, sadness creeping up again. “Places to see, things to do...you know how it is.”

“Speaking of,” Mom asks, “what time is it where you are? I mean─you can telle me that, right?”

“I can,” Nile says, smiling at her mother’s effort. “It’s uh...almost one AM.”

Nile yawns, unbidden, and then sighs.

“I think I need to go.”

“Yes you do,” Mom chides, teasing and firm all at once. “You’re not going to accomplish anything if you’re dead on your feet─off to bed, Nile.”

“I don’t want to,” Nile protests, not trying very hard to keep the pout out of her voice. “It’s your birthday.”

“It’s okay,” Mom says, and the tone of her voice is like a hug Nile wants to linger in forever. “I understand. I’m just glad you called.”

“I’m glad too,” Nile says, wiping at a stray tear on her cheek. “Happy birthday, mom.”

“I love you, baby,” Mom says, and Nile grins through a fresh wave of tears.

“Forever and ever?”

“Of course forever,” Mom promises with something like an amused eye roll in her tone. “Now go to sleep.”

“Yes mom. Bye.”

“Bye bye, love you.”

“Love you too,” Nile says, and then she reluctantly disconnects the call.

She’s still feeling blue, it’s true, but it’s a different sort of ache now, the sort that’s softened enough to be a fond remembrance of someone you love rather than a knife to the heart. It isn’t something Nile has figured out how to value yet, but it could be, someday, maybe. With a watery sigh and a smile, Nile bends to pick Bâtard up─he’s fallen asleep, it seems, all snuggled up in his shell and entirely unresponsive in the time it takes for her to scribble a quick thanks at the bottom of Booker’s note and bring Bâtard back to his terrarium in the old parlor.

“M’ci,” Booker mutters from the seat to her left, and Nile almost has a heart attack.

When she turns to scold Booker for it, however, he’s already back to sleep─or feigning sleep, she’s not entirely sure─his back to the door to the bedroom and turned towards the only unboarded window, which they’ve been using as an entry and exit point. Nile sighs, shaking her head, and goes to the room she shares with the others, only to jump again when she lies down on her mattress and finds herself face to face with Andy’s eyes shining in the moonlight.

“I fear the day my sleep patterns start matching yours,” Nile whispers to Andy, and sighs when all that garners her is a sharp smile. “How are you not dead on your feet?”

“I’m old enough to transcend the need for sleep.”

Nile punches her in the shoulder.

“Feeling any better?”

“Yes, actually,” Nile says, trying to shift into a comfortable position. “I talked to my mother...it’s always too short but. It’s good.”

“Good,” Andy says. There’s a pause, and then she adds, “Nile, I’m sorry.”

Nile blinks at the darkness. It’s been seven years, and while she knows full well Andy is perfectly capable of recognizing her shortcomings, it’s the first time Nile hears her actually apologize for anything. She’s got a right to be a little startled, she thinks.

“I was with Book on this,” Andy explains when the silence between them has stretched a little while longer. “Not seeing your family again, I mean. I didn’t think it could turn out well, either...sure didn’t do him any good. Or Lykon, for that matter.”

“To be fair,” Nile admits after a beat, “I get it. I’m probably just very lucky. And I...I’ll lose them anyway. Sooner or later. I don’t─I’m glad I still have them for a bit, even if it hurts but...sometimes, I think at least the clean break was...easier.”

Andy stays quiet at that, eyes still looking at Nile in the darkness. Nile resists the urge to squirm under those eyes, but she’s not surprised when the urge to elaborate becomes too strong:

“It’s just...before my mom saw us, I didn’t have to wonder how this was affecting everyone. No contact, stay out of Chicago for another fifty years, maybe a little more, and that was it. It hurt, but at least the path was clear. Now I keep wanting to call her not knowing if I should. I have to use fake names to tell her about the most important people in my life, who she’ll never meet─I’m making her lie to her best friend!”

On the other side of the room, Nicky snorts in his sleep, and Nile smiles through her anguish as it morphs into a soft snore.

“They’ve been friends since elementary school, you know,” Nile tells Andy when she’s sure Nicky isn’t waking up. “They tell each other everything, and now my mom has to lie to her because of me. I don’t know how she can bear it.”

She pauses, breathing through the sudden tightness in her throat, and concludes:

“I don’t know how long she’ll bear it.”

Andy hums.

“I don’t have any advice for you Nile,” she says eventually. “I don’t really remember how that went for me, it’s been too long. But...even now, sometimes I─it’s hard, living without your family. Even at my age.”

“I...I didn’t know you felt like that,” Nile admits. “I thought you’d grown past that.”

“I don’t think we’re meant to,” Andy says. “I can’t remember what my parents looked like, or what it was like to be a child...but I do know what it’s like to want someone else to take care of your shit for a while.”

Nile grins, surprised into a light laughter that’s almost a giggle. Sometimes it’s easy to forget Andy is as human as any of them, even if she’s the oldest person on Earth. Discovering moments of relatability is always a delight and a relief all at once.

“I know we’re not your mom or your family,” Andy says after a while, the smile fading from her voice as she grows more serious, “and we’re not trying to be. But you’re─I won’t get angry if we’re not enough. You don’t have to...to hide it from me. You don’t have to stay alone and just...assume. There’s been too much of that lately.”

Nile can’t see Andy’s face in the darkness, not when her eyes aren’t angled to catch the moonlight, but it’s not hard to guess where she’s looking. In the doorway, Nile can see the outline of Booker’s seat, one hand dangling over the armrest─bottle free for the second night in a row, though there’s still an empty glass nearby on the floor.

“What I mean,” Andy says, startling Nile again, “is that you don’t have to be ashamed if we’re not what you want or need. The fact that you value your family isn’t a weakness, or a flaw. Just because we’ve─just because most of us grew out of it doesn’t mean you’re wrong for still needing more time, especially when it’s so recent. This...I didn’t tell him that, and I should have, so now I’m telling you. Not to protect us, but because it’s true.”

“Thanks, Andy,” Nile says.

“Sure. Now go to sleep,” Andy orders fondly.

Nile snorts, gives Andy a light punch in the shoulder, and turns over to go to sleep.