#But with how often his absent parents have been brought up I think having both was always intended

[pureconancommentary]

Mentioning the dad and both moms, the exact same people scolding them after their haunted mansion adventure, makes me wonder if they weren't supposed to have another parent. Because it's super weird to go 'huh, who can take us to Touto tower this weekend. Because one parent definitely can't, and I'm not even going to mention why the other one isn't an option'.

Like. We get mention of the other parents later. But why does it feel like Gosho always only plans for one parent to be around at the beginning of his series?

[youlikefanficdontyousquidward]

By moonlight

Adar x Fem!Elf!Reader

Part one, two Three- My heart

Summary: Adar steals moments from his Sunset before heading to battle.

His Andúnë remained, her soft light illuminating the depths of Adar's heart. She stayed far from the tunnels edge, away from the men who swore their loyalty. He missed her warmth when there and found himself often trudging through the uneven mud to the children's tents.

This day she lay on their soft bedding. Spread like he had been on the breaking wheel. But there was no pain to be had here. Instead each limb had one or more Uruklings curled around them. Atop her breast lay the baby she'd saved, drooling into her clavicle. He smiled gently down at them, leaving her to rest.

He walked with her when he could. Into the sun to watch over her while she gathered herbs. He knew he didn't need to, that the Uruk scouts in the trees would've protected her. Still the stolen moments were irresistible to him. Her hair catching the light, her laughing with the children. Sweet as bird song. He longed for her to look softly at him. To bend her lips into that perfect smile just for him.

It was a foolish dream. He was a broken and twisted thing. She was not bound to him and never would be. Her light was meant for someone better.

...

You felt Adar's presence for a moment before that shadow passed. You couldn't move, so covered in the Uruklings as you were. It was warm, suffocating even but pleasant. They all slept in a pile together when their parents were gone. It seemed they felt the cold more keenly than their mothers.

Uruk women were hard working. None would dare put in less than their men. A deserved pride, you saw how strong they were yourself. You admired them greatly. You'd been a passive thing in your home. Never given the same opportunity for greatness as your male kin. Your small skill with a sword had been behind your father's back.

Glüg's mate, Vusha, and other pregnant women stayed with the children and the wounded. Still there were no idle hands here. They worked mending and healing alongside the children. Building supports and covers if their stomachs weren't too swollen. Vusha swiped the tents flap open. She chased the little ones off, with a bark of laughter and brought you out to the tunnels beyond for the day.

Vusha was a brash, vulgar tongued women and you liked her greatly. Often her jokes and stories brought a fierce blush to your ears. Of late she'd focused much of her energy on your own lack of relationship experience.

"Far too pretty a thing not to get a little messy in your bed roll." She said with a wink. You'd buried your face behind the tunic you'd been sewing.

"What about the men-folk. Not too bad to your eye I'd imagine." She nodded to the group beyond.

You followed her eye to the men. They came from a village that Adar had taken a day ago. Most were barely out of their childhood and the ones that were, tended towards harsh and unfriendly. One looked to you both with a curled lip.

"I think not." You said, drawing your eye to the baby. He was large now, able to toddle on fat little legs between you and the other children.

"Suit yourself." She huffed and you breathed a sigh of relief. "You know Glüg's brothers' meant to be a good ride?"

When night fell you felt a shadow pass by the tents. A familiar shiver ran up your spine and you fought the smile threatening to split your face.

"Andúnë." Adar's gravely voice spoke. You turned still crouched by the children. He bowed his head to you his bare hand over his heart. He did this each time and still it made your heart flutter. He greeted you so softly, like you were a Lady and not a lowly Elleth in the muck.

"How are they." Adar spoke, turning to the tent and away from your gaze. You blinked, shifting your own too. You hadn't realized how intensely your stare must have been. You cursed how awkward you'd become in front of him now.

"Well, my Lord. The baby has a tooth now." You smiled, rubbing your ankle absent mindlessly.

Adar turned back to you, his brow furrowed a moment before he reached his hand to you. You savored the roughness of his skin against your own.

"Ah yes, fret not." He rasped as you stood. His hand left yours cold. "They set one another right in time."

You watched where he did. The baby toddling, falling and crawling quick after giggling children.

"Their skin is tough, yours however..." Adar turned back to you. You pulled your lips tight, he had broken skin but it was healing well. Likely to scar however given your resources.

"I am fine Lord Adar." You said.

"If you won't tell me truthfully, I'll check myself." He hummed.

You didn't respond right away. His gauntlet shifted on his swords pommel and Adar dropped to his knee. You frowned, his hand touching the torn edge of your dress. Adar's rough fingers barely touched your ankle when your mind returned to you. You shrieked, skipping back as your heard the children laugh. Staring back at Adar's wide eyes you flustered.

"I'm fine! I swear!" You urged.

"Are you in pain?" Adar's rough voice spoke gravely. Your heart thundered in your chest. His eyes darkened, baring into your own as he stood.

"No! No, no. I just." You fumbled, fingers tightening on your dress as he approached. The room felt silent as you cast your eyes from his. That soft meadow green that felt like it could swallow you whole. He paused, before you saw him bow in your peripherals.

"Please, forgive me." He whispered. "I didn't mean to... impose."

"Oh, please my Lord rise." You gasped, placing a hand to his armored shoulder. "I'm well, everything is well."

He rose, your hand slipping from where it had rested on his chest plate. You felt your heart in your throat, your face was so hot. There was tightness in your chest that felt for all the world like it could crush you. Your eyes left his, traveling over his scared skin. Your finger tips buzzed, a desire so deep in your soul to reach out. Too feel him beneath your hand, beneath you.

A sudden giggling shout broke what spell had been cast on you. Adar too stiffened his face turning to the baby as his nails dug into your skirts. Your face burned as you stooped to him, lifting him up to your chest.

"I must go." Adar rasped, rushing out before you could speak a word.

...

There was much at hand. The last of the Southlanders gathered in the Eleven watch tower. The hilt among them, the key to his Uruk's home. Adar couldn't let his mind wander, couldn't imagine her flushed face, the heat of her skin on his fingers.

He gripped the pommel of his sword tighter in his hand. Even through his gauntlet he could feel the spiked end digging in. The sharp bite to his skin grounded him in the moment.

He laid out the plan ahead to his most fearsome warriors. Glüg had been disappointment not to be amongst them. Adar hadn't thought less of him as a fighter, he merely wished he would stay to look after the others. He was sure at least his mate would be appreciative of his task and there were few others he trusted his Andúnë to.

He wished to see her. To ensure she was well, to see if he was truly forgiven for his trespass. Adar cursed himself. It was a foolish act, a bold move he'd intended as playful fueled by a fear she was actually injured.

Adar also wished to look upon her just in case. If he were to fall this night, he wished to do so with her face in his minds eye. He was so certain she held no real fondness for him but he swore he saw something. Just a glimpse when their eyes met. A flicker that could be fanned if it weren't for his ruined form. Her eyes had moved to his scars and he'd bit back hope.

Instead Adar dug his fist into the dirt. Softly planting seeds and covering them with care. Tomorrow his children would have a home.

...

You waited with the children, with the pregnant. You felt an anger rising in you, burning behind your eyes. How could he leave without saying anything? Without giving you a chance to raise a sword. You didn't relish the idea of taking the villages lives but to protect what you had?

"You named him yet?" Glüg spoke from your side. He sat on the hill with you, looking towards the tower.

"Gurbaur. Though it feels wrong for it to be my choice." You spoke softly. He rested in your arms, his scars paler and pinker than the ashy complexion of his skin. They'd shift with age, maybe it wouldn't cover so much of his face then.

"He's yours now. Far as any are concerned. Gurbaur? Vusha give you that one?" Glüg asked.

"She's been teaching me yes and she said it meant stone son. Thought he deserved a strong one after all he's survived." You smiled despite yourself.

"You see far too right?" Glüg asked again.

"Beyond the horizon if I like." You answered. Elven eyes were keen and yours were focused on the village now.

"Do you see him." Glüg said, leaning forward to try and look himself.

"The fire in the village there..." You pointed, sure he could see the glow at least. "Lord Adar is there, he walks towards a large building at the center."

You watched still as the sun began to rise. Glüg wordlessly took the your Gurbaur before the sun could reach him. You watched still as a shadow of a fear began to grow in your mind. Something was wrong, something was very wrong.

...

Adar sat in the barn, bloodied but alive. The chains kept him to the post, kept his wrists together. Outside his children huddled under cover, guarded by the men from the sea.

If that man was true to his oath, if he wouldn't be discovered, it wouldn't be long now. He was far closer than he'd imagined, not nearly in a safe path. From what he'd read the mountain's peak would explode. Rock and fire would rain upon the land and a great smoke would blot the sun for millenniums to come. He closed his eyes, Adar could rest. His work was almost done now.

He didn't do so for long. There was a creak on the boards above him, the hayloft. Some man to slit his throat no doubt, taking a hidden entrance to do the deed. He prepared to counter, to kick out their legs. He would see his children's new home, this would not be robbed by the likes of them.

"Adar...?" A soft voice called. Sweet and filled with a fear that cut through him.

He opened his eyes. Past the rays of sun and dust floating in the air. She was here, his heart, Andúnë. Perhaps his wounds had been worse than he'd thought. That something beyond had taken pity on him and sent this vision to guide him into the darkness beyond. His eyes slipped closed, ready for her to take him away.

"Adar... zo zemar. Come back to me." Her voice grew closer, a soft warmth encompassing his cheek.

"My heart, I am with you." Adar rasped in return to her black speech. The apparition was so real, so soft. Even past the horse he could smell her, her scent so close it had him dizzy.

Adar opened his eyes again. She was knelt between his legs, her face close and tight in concern. Against his chains Adar lifted his hand to her, brushing his knuckles against her temple and down her cheek. Her face broke into an uneven smile, real and more beautiful than any sunset. Tears like stars glistening on her lashes.

"How are you here?" Adar breathed. She was real, solid in his vision. She wore a soldiers cloak, stolen and pulled over her ears and an had a hatchet in hand.

"I saw from the hill. I cannot leave you here. Oh what have they done to you." She fretted over him. Her hand came away from his cheek to run across the river patterns on his armor.

"Nothing that cannot be mended but..." Adar paused. Your face turned to the sound, a great cracking and rumble. He saw your face pale, fear setting in as the rumbling grew near. You took your hatchet to the metal, swinging down at the chain that bound him. Adar didn't think you had it in you but your strike was strong and true. It hit a weak point and broke away.

"Lay with me, listen." Adar sighed. He shifted to the wooden boards, ear pressed and hearing the water rush bellow. You followed, facing him as you did so. He saw your brow furrow at the sound, laying so close to him. He felt your breath against his cheek and smiled.

"Come, we must move." He said. Again you followed him, hands at his elbows to brace him as he stood. He didn't need your support but he let your hands grasp him. Let an arm wind around his middle and take his injured hand in your own.

Adar let you guide him to the doors, you moved ahead pulling with a grunt to open them for him. Chaos sounded, a clamor of soldiers rushing past not even paying either of you any mind. Adar pulled you back to him, a hand wrapping around your arm.

Your eyes were far, fixed on the mountain. A great clap sounded out, louder than any thunder. A bright light erupted with it and a force rushed out. Adar turned then, taking the blast to his back with you pressed now against his chest. You yelped but covered your mouth quickly, looking up to him through your eyelashes.

Adar kept his arms around you, turning back to the great mountain as it spewed ash and rock into the sky. His children cheered and yelled, breaking free and running to him. Great rocks, flaming and bigger than houses soared through the skies.

"What... what is this." You whispered.

"Home." Adar answered.

[bakerstreethound]

Single Dad Corinthian - New Beginnings | Chapter 2: Simple Joys

Chapter 1: A Walk in the Park

Relationship: Single Father!Corinthian x OC Aspen Reeves

Warnings: brief mention of losing a child, absent parents, flirty Corinthian, pining, sensual undertones, mentions of past abusive relationship for Aspen, and supportive Corinthian

Summary: A week after Aspen meets the mysterious Corinthian and his son Levi at the park, they take a chance and start talking to Corinthian. Soon enough a kinship and something more unfolds. How will it go and can Aspen tread through the waters of flirting all while tending to some still fresh wounds of loss from their younger years? How will they possibly get through a first date? Corinthian has his doubts and he finds himself falling for Aspen, been if he's not actively trying. How can he not? What happens if Aspen sees him for who he truly is? A monster on the inside and out?

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT claim, copy, repost, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)

Word Count: 4.4k+

A/N: It has been months, but I am so excited to present chapter 2 of this little snapshot mosaic series of single dad Corinthian and my OC Aspen Reeves. Both of them deserve a hug and Levi is adorable. Many thanks to @novaracer for beta reading and cheering me on as I wrote. I hope you enjoy! Graphic by @firefly-graphics Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

It had been a week since your run-in with the man who called himself Corinthian, but you shortened his name to Cori in your contacts (you would be lying if it didn’t make you smile). The park meeting had been one of the most unexpected adventures in your life the past year. 

You fiddled with the card he left you on the bench that fateful afternoon and it pestered you for days until you gave in and said hello. You felt so stupid reaching out. Would he think you were a creep? A lonely creep was not much harm unless you became a stalker. You blanched at the thought. 

When you did text him, you realized the appointments you had to keep and he had the same, with his work and needing to take care of Levi. You did not mind waiting, but you found yourself looking forward to life, looking forward to seeing him and Levi sometime. If a week had to pass for the outcome to be that way, you would take it.

Having someone to talk to was nice and you were eager each time you heard the ping of your phone, instead of the dreaded pit of worry and anxiety that accompanied them. 

Ever since your child Sam had been admitted to the hospital two years prior in the months before his passing, the messages, texts, and emails had caused nothing but sickness and heartbreak for you and your partner.

You cringed at the thought of your partner Kai, who had all but abandoned you, leaving Sam’s care and bills up to you. You loved your child, you did, you missed going to the parks, and taking him to school. You often wondered what he would have become if he decided to go to college or learn a trade. 

You wondered a lot of things, then, but now you grasped at the possibility of wanting to be with someone new, at least entertaining the company. Your heart was not perfectly mended, albeit bruised after the divorce, but it did not matter in the slightest. You had left the apartment and donated a majority of Kai and Sam’s things except for the minimal keepsakes.

Your new place faired better for you with large windows to filter in the sun and wash your darkness away on those days when it felt nigh impossible to get out of bed, bundled in copious amounts of blankets. 

Regardless, you found solace these days between texting Corinthian through errands and hobbies like cooking, writing, and your art. The easel in your studio apartment held a blank canvas, and your cart was full of acrylics and watercolors stashed away in your art box.

Looking at them brought up memories of Kai and Sam, making your heart twinge. The passion, though, that did not fade, but your irrationality had overridden it. That was months ago, but you felt ready enough for it, but it would wait for another day. 

Your phone pings, the smile crossing your face of its own accord. 

Found this new shiny beauty at the pawn shop today, though it is not as bright as your smile. He sends accompanied by the attachment of a shiny knife. Though dull, it’ll be quite the beauty when sharpened and polished.  

I don’t have many reasons to smile, you know. 

Well, perhaps I might have to be one of them. 

You roll your eyes . Perhaps you might. I have been debating trying that new pizza shop down the street. Have you had it, yet? You breathe a sigh of relief, having dodged the flirt. You are still new to it all.

Oh, darling, I have not had enough of you. But I would like more

Is that so?

I’d kill to see that smile again, the one you flashed to Levi in the park before we officially met.

Your heart thumps faster as you send another text. Would you now?

Only if you asked nicely. 

What, do I have to be nice about it?

There are ways I could make you behave if you prefer. 

You pause. Are you certain about that? I might bite.

I like it when they bite (: 

******

The remaining weeks fly by at a steady pace, much of your interactions with Corinthian brief and flirty, with debates about the best restaurants in between. You bickered about the best brick oven pizza, thin or stuffed crust, iced or hot coffee and tea, and the most random nonsense.

You voted for the regular homestyle crust while he vies for the thin crust when it comes to a Margherita pizza. Regular crust he likes for pepperoni or meat lovers, you find out. 

This easy back and forth becomes the normal and your darker more dreary days turn brighter with the chime of a text and call. Those sounds that once spelled doom now ring with a brighter tune. 

The tune of hope. 

You do not want it to disappear but approach it with caution.

That is the day he asks you out on a date, your first official date together. You remember the confidence he exuded on the phone. 

“Aspen, darling, he drawled. “Would you like to join me on a picnic at the park? It would be me and you only, under that nice shade tree.” 

Your name on his lips sounded utterly delightful and you did not hesitate to tell him yes. 

******

You have not made a trip to the park in some time, but the memories of meeting Levi instantly hit you on the stroll over. The clouds in the sky accentuate the sun and you feel a warmth spread inside you.

Yes, you can be happy and not dread every moment of your existence wondering if you were an awful parent, if you could have done more to save Sam, could have given Kai a reason to stay.  

You shake those thoughts from your mind. Shush, Aspen. You’re here to meet Corinthian on your first date.  

First date. 

The word feels foreign on your tongue and in your mind. You barely remember your first date with Kai, but it was likely a rushed one at a cheap ramen bar, the only thing starving artist college kids could afford.

The rest of your relationship flew by in a blur and suddenly Sam was born, your pride and joy, then he vanished too soon. Five years was not long, a life cut too soon. Such is the unfairness of the world. 

Yet, the world in all its cruelty has given you a new gift, a fresh start, hope. Hope you scarcely allow yourself to feel anymore, 

It’s the feeling that flutters in your chest when you recognize him there under the old oak tree, one you admire countless times from your park bench picnics, a sandwich in hand, your satchel next to you, filled with your wallet, books, and other essentials. 

He looks impossibly heartbreaking and more devastatingly gorgeous than you remember. When you first met him, he wore white suit pants and a simple T-shirt.

Now, he is dressed in navy blue slacks, a pale blue shirt, with a simple gray sweater over it, the collar edges peaking out from it. His signature sunglasses sat perched on the bridge of his nose. His brow rose in greeting. 

Shit, you have been staring too long, more like gawking and you snapped your jaw tighter, determined not to let him get to you. 

You can do this. 

It’s a picnic another normal day. 

Who are you kidding? This is more than you could fathom or deserve. 

“Hello, darling,” He rumbles, the breeze softly swirling around you. A few leaves tumbled around you, crunching beneath your sneakers as you met him, standing fully in front of him, appreciating the view a while longer. 

He reaches for your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before leading you to a place beneath the tree. 

You gasp, a giggle bursting from your lips. “You didn’t Cori.” 

He smiles. “Of course I did. It is all for you.” 

Before you are a simple picnic blanket, a simple wicker basket filled to the brim with drinks, snacks, and an assortment of fruit. In addition, there is a charcuterie board of cheeses, ham, and two loaves of bread, meticulously laid out on a simple wooden board. 

It is more than you could have hoped for. You eagerly sit on the blanket and Corinthian joins you, carefully brushing his fingers along your arm and handing you a plate. He chuckles when your hands brush as you reach for some cheese and meat and he carefully slices up some bread for you, which you gratefully accept.

The flavors burst on your tongue in a delightful manner, a low moan passing along your lips. Corinthian stiffens next to you his slice of cheese close to his mouth, jaw slack.

Hell, he loves the noise you made, and he briefly finds his mind wondering to what other noises he could possibly get you to make. He shakes these thoughts from his head as he asks, “Enjoying yourself?” 

“This is probably the best meal I have had all week.” 

He cocks a brow, his signature move. “Really?” That surprises him. What the heck have you been eating then?

“Yeah. The best I can do for myself sometimes is cereal, some taco meat on occasion, and sandwiches when I am in a pinch. It’s not the worst thing.” 

The way you shrug this off nonchalantly rubs Corinthian, prying an itch from his skin. He wants to make you good warm meals, that is the least you deserve. He wants to hold you against the cruel world, and kill those who harm you, bother you, or stand in your way. 

He reaches out to you to stroke your face with his hand, thumb dragging along your lip. “You had a bit of something there.” 

Your face warms at his touch, and you lean into him more, your gaze transfixed on him beyond the sunglasses. You wonder what emotion he conveys behind his eyes. Curiosity getting the better of you, you reach out to his glasses, but he veers out of your way. 

“Not here, darling,” he snaps, sending you shrinking. What did you do? You didn’t mean it. Panic and worry crawl along your skin. So you have been too foreward and he hates you now. 

Great, Aspen, look what you have done, ruined your once chance of something exciting in your life. Get it together you can make this work. 

“I’m sorry,” you eventually find yourself saying after an agonizing ten minutes, as you and Corinthian continue your meal, the park filling with more people. Children are playing on the playground, a group of teens starts a pickup soccer game, parents run with their children, a couple walks with a stroller built for twins from the look of it. 

You find yourself smiling as Corinthian reaches out for your hand, squeezing it gently. 

“I am sorry for snapping at you, Aspen. My eyes are sensitive and I don’t like exposing to the sun more than necessary, hence why I wear these. Should have explained sooner.”

“Oh.” 

Corinthian swallows, watching you intently. Shit he scared you off, you hate him for his outburst. He understands if you want to get up and leave, but…you don't, you stare at him longer then reach for the bottle opener, picking up the bottle of wine and champagne he bought.

He was not sure which you preferred, but champagne is usually in style, especially for a celebration and wasn’t this a celebration? 

A celebration of a colossal win or a massive failure. 

He had found you and wanted to know you more. What little part of his heart however misshapen by his creator beat stronger in your presence, filling him with a curious warmth, a warmth different beyond his bloodlust for killing.

He cared, that is what he feels when he watches you pilfer through the wicker basket, your face brightening when you produce a Honeycrisp apple. 

Without a word, Corinthian reaches out to take it from you, sliding a knife out from his holster and cutting it up in an expert fashion. Your eyes remain glued on him in morbid fascination, perusing his biceps, down to his forearms, then focusing on his hands. 

You wonder how they would feel on your sides, squeezing you gently, holding you close to his chest where you can hear the thrumming of his heart.

“Something on your mind, darling?” 

 You shrug, swallowing another bite of cheese before replying. “Not really. I was considering going to the bookstore later. I need something else to stimulate my mind while at work.

“Ah I see, work can get slow?” 

“Being a receptionist has its ups and downs throughout the week, but my boss gives us enough downtime to sneak in reading time throughout the day. It is good for our productivity.” 

“Ah, so I see,” Corinthian hums thoughtfully, interrupted by the ping of his phone. “Shit.” He glances down at his phone, mouth pulled into a thin line. 

“What’s wrong?” You take a sip of your champagne. 

“The sitter texted me saying their plans fell through so they can’t watch Levi for the following two hours. I told Matthew I needed him for longer so Levi wouldn’t disturb us.” 

“Oh, I see. Well, would it be that bad if Levi joined us?” 

“I had planned for us to go bowling.”

“He can join us.”

“Wait, you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” you smile. 

“I wanted this to be a pleasant experience for the both of us with no distraction and people are hesitant when I mention I have a child-”

“Hey,” you squeeze his hand. “There’s no need to explain yourself. I understand how it can be, the unsurety of how people treat you being a single parent.” 

“It is not easy.”

“It never is, but we love our children regardless.” 

Corinthian at least wanted to continue pleading his case so he hurriedly explained his sitter Matthew had to rush off on an extended errand for his demanding boss, and his bosses’ assistant Lucienne who was Corinthain’s fallback was overwhelmed with administrative duties it was not feasible and Merv, well Corinthian wanted Levi to not be surrounded by dangerous equipment - equipment Merv was certain to allow Levi try out all in good fun.

“Say we skip bowling and get ice cream as a treat for Levi. Would he like that?” 

“Darling, you are wonderful. I am sure he will be delighted.” 

******

With a bowling date falling through, Corinthian set his apprehensions aside when he saw Levi running to you for a hug after opening the apartment door. “Pretty person is back. Look dad!”

“Yes Levi, I can see you’re having fun. Hopefully, you were not too much trouble to Matthew. Also, that pretty person is Aspen. Can you give them a proper hello?” 

Levi beams at you as you twirl him in your arms, giggling hysterically. “H-hii Aspen!” 

“Hey bud, you have a good day today?” He giggles when you set him back on the floor, chuckling in amusement as he steadies himself on his legs. He quickly makes a beeline for the kitchen where he climbs up on the table to watch Corinthian. 

You join him and Corinthian sets down a glass before you from which you take a sip, thanking him all the while. 

“I have a few more things to pack then we can go get ice cream.”

“Wait, we’re getting ice cream?” Levi’s eyes widen and he almost falls out of his chair with excitement. 

“Woah buddy hold your horses. We will get some after we run a few errands. You can be patient, right?” Corinthian raises an incredulous brow. 

Levi giggles, nodding furiously. “Yes, Dad!” 

“Wonderful, buddy. How about you run along and show Aspen some of the books you got from the library this week.” 

“Yeahh!!” 

******

A few hours later, you find yourself back in the ice cream parlor you eyeballed weeks ago, one you thought of going to before settling on your park bench. It was the decision that changed the course of you life, leading you to meet Levi and his father. You find yourself enjoying their company their laughter, their conversation and warmth.

You forgot that is how a family could be, how humanity could be. Laughter, joy, the simplicity of running errands. Levi is surprisingly well-behaved and jovial, staying close to Corinthian and holding your hand to not lose you in the slew of people in the aisles and sidewalks. 

Soon enough you’re laughing, full from the ice cream at the parlor, and head back to the park after dropping off the groceries. Corinthian insisted all the while that he is making you dinner sometime after hearing you adore a good spaghetti and meatballs and a variety of American cuisine like cheeseburgers and BBQ. 

*******

He can’t stop watching you, your smile as you guide Levi down the sidewalk, turning your head to be on the lookout for any strangers or creeps who would follow you back to his apartment. He likes your smile, the way laughter flows through your entire being. It lights you up from the inside out and it is a beautiful sight.

You are beautiful, he realizes, has known it since the moment he met you in the park, a well-worn book next to you on the bench, the half-eaten sandwich you likely saved for dinner or lunch the following day. 

His heart seizes at this realization, the grocery bag almost slipping from his shoulder and he almost freaking trips- trips on the sidewalk barely avoiding a yipping dog whose owner rolled their eyes at him. 

You and Levi couldn’t contain your laughter and you were even more stunning then. He wants to reach out and hold your hand, hold Levi’s hand too. He can picture the life you could have together in his simple two bedroom apartment, the one he was lucky enough to find in a pinch soon after he rescued Levi, desperate to escape the confines of the dreaming world. 

Levi who changed his world in an instant and vowed to protect and would riot if Morpheus ever found him and tried to separate them. He needs Levi as much as Levi needs him. He cares for him so much more than he can express and he does not want to lose you either. If he could pull himself into some semblance of a better person for the good of his son, he can do it for you.

He wants to be by your side for as long as you will have him. He says none of this as your walk into the library, his grocery bag full of library books to return. Levi had insisted on another outing to one of the few places he felt save, practically begged Aspen on the phone to join him and his dad again. 

Aspen complied, falling under his spell but Cornthian hopes it is because you want to see him as much as he wants to see you. The weeks have slipped away in the blink of an eye when your both near each other and he can’t explain how much more time he wants in your presence.

The late night killing sprees he completes do not hold a candle to the shine of your smile, the thrill of it all. Hell, he loves to make you smile, the easeful way your hair falls, warm and streaked with sunlight, makes you all the more alluring and he wants your smile to fall upon his face longer. 

******

The time at the park passes in a blur and you're on the way back to Corinthian’s apartment, Levi in tow, sitting atop his father’s shoulders, eyes bleary in exhaustion. The long day had certainly caught up to him between the grocery shopping, ice cream parlor, and additional park time.

You can’t blame him as you stifled back another yawn, yearning for the comfort of your bed. You almost sigh in relief when the apartment door opened, Levi murmuring sleepily that he wanted a popsicle, and Corinthian chuckled good-naturedly. 

You collapse onto the couch after taking your shoes off, relief sinking into you when the soft cushions meet your back. 

“Now this is nice.” You sigh and stretch. 

Cori smirked, Levi yawning on his shoulders as he pulled him down. 

“Time to get ready for bed, little buddy.” 

“Dad…” 

“Now, now Levi we’ve talked about this.” 

“But dad…” 

“Now now son, you know right and well you need to go to bed early tonight.” 

You smiled, continuing to listen in to their back and forth, soothed by the steady rhythm of their nightly routine, and your mind drifted, falling into thoughts you kept tightly concealed, ones that you hoped would never surface, let alone in the house of the person you have come to enjoy the company of for the past week, no month.

How time flew when you were together with him and Levi. You felt a certain kinship to Levi, healing the broken parts of your soul. You shifted adjusting yourself unconsciously, bumping up against something, or rather, someone next to you. 

Your heart raced. You try not to panic. Your heart is thrumming faster, certain you are in a dream until your eyes fly open, greeted with a room with soft light akin to a candle. 

Something, or someone stirs next to you and your first instinct is to get the hell out of there but your mind screams at you to take it slow so you do. 

Breathe. Kai isn’t here. You are safe. 

The mantra steadied you, and now that your eyes adjust to the light you can see you are in a large bedroom with a view overlooking the city, a gentle breeze blew through the room ruffling your hair. A soft sigh and groan followed from the figure next to you. Blonde, no almost platinum hair upon the bedsheets, and a nightmask around his eyes. 

Corinthian had tucked you in bed, his bed, and had fallen asleep next to you. You’re uncertain how you feel, then, but find the comfort of a warm body nice.

You liked that it was Corinthian there protecting you, watching over you, caring for you enough to let you stay. Though you had a panic about it you still find the gesture kind. In fact he was so kind you decided to return the favor and trailed your arm along his sleeping form, grasping onto his bicep. 

“What is it now, Morpheus. I have been good! Please.” 

“Corinthian? It’s me, Aspen.” 

You jostle him and still nothing. Nothing in the room made a sound, the breeze frozen on its journey through, almost stealing the breath from your lips.

Your bones felt cold, yet you can’t break away from Corinthian, his Adam's apple bobbling, lips pleading, forming words that don’t fall from his lips, until he croaks softly, “No…please don’t. Not him. Not Levi.” 

Dread falls into the pit of your stomach, awakening your irrational fears, but you shove them down, focusing on the man beside you. You nudge him again. 

“Cori? Wake up. I’m here. It’s me, Aspen,” You speak into the silence of the room, darkness convalescing down the walls, shadows playing on the cracks of the walls.

They laugh at you forming faces of your failures; you can’t save them, but you are the one who has to be saved. Can’t you do anything right? They taunt. You scream at them to leave you alone, just as Corinthian’s form jolts upright, breathing hard, a cold sweat chilling him to the bone. 

“Aspen?” Your name is a whisper on his tongue, tentative, unsure. 

You reach for his hand, squeezing tight in reassurance. “Yes, it’s me.” 

A few moments of silence pass, frozen in the low light of the room, moonlight streaming in. 

“Could you still care for me, even knowing I am a monster, an abomination?” 

“Cori we’ve known each other, have been talking for two months, now even if we only recently had our first date. You haven’t scared me off, yet. I do not think that will happen.” 

He gaffes before a bitter laugh follows. “Yet. So you will leave eventually, they all do.” 

Will you at least let me look at you? You do not sound okay” You reach for his eyemask and he turns his face from you. You’re not sure from fear, shame, or something worse. 

“I can’t let you or Levi see me this way.”

“Levi is fine, you put him to bed four hours ago, see?” You check the clock on the nightstand which chimes midnight, signaling a new day. “What’s really going on Cori? I know I have no right to prod into any more of your business. We haven’t known each other long, but would it help to talk about it?” 

He huffs, shifting before curling up. Why did you care? He is a monster, and doesn’t want you to see the true horrors he encapsulates.

Sure, he has done some things in the past that weren’t befitting of his station, but he had to claim his right. Surely Morpheus didn’t dare to track him down, yet the fear was always present, the thought of Levi being abandoned, left for dead, forgotten. 

Corinthian does not want to face that shame, so he pulls you close, taking a deep breath before replying. “Can you turn the light off, please?” 

You oblige, turning back the sheets, holding back a chill running down your spine. You hate to admit your fear of the dark but you can do this for him. A soft rustling comes from the bed and you hear the clicking of teeth, faint and rhythmic.

Your stomach turns in knots, thinking you stepped on something but eases as Corinthian feels for you, his mouth pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, before pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your hand, then your palm, and the inside of your wrist. 

“Would you stay the night with me? I know you fell asleep earlier so I couldn’t ask and I want you to be alright.” He ignores the lump that forms in his throat as he speaks, hoping you will agree and keep his racing thoughts at bay. 

You smile, despite the pitch-black darkness as you whisper, “Of course,” all the while falling into his hopeful, waiting embrace

******

[helikesyou]

Daylight (Buck/Eddie +s7)

(based on the “you deserve to be kissed often, by someone who knows what they’re doing” prompt)

or, After Buck and Tommy break up, Buck suggests an experiment. Eddie thinks he's a rebound, and clown-to-clown communication ensues.

[read on ao3]

“So, you broke up because…?”

Eddie was trying to go easy on Buck, but he’d been wondering all night, and the four drinks they’d both had didn't seem to make Buck’s tongue any looser. Considering his best friend had shown up at his door with a six-pack, a weak smile, and said he was ready to talk about it, he hadn’t done a lot of talking about it.

Eddie had asked, Buck had shrugged it off and asked if Christopher was home, Eddie had said no, and Buck had planted himself on the couch.

He came, as Christopher would say, “dressed for a slumber party,” in old gray sweats and a worn black t-shirt. Eddie had changed out of his uniform, into black sweats and the gray tee he wore to bed, and settled in for a long night. Four drinks later, sinking increasingly deeper into the couch, Buck had yet to mention Tommy. He figured maybe Buck was waiting for him to ask about it. So he did.

Buck absently rolled the beer bottle between his palms, looking down at it. “I…I’m not sure what happened, to be honest. We got into this argument which I’m not even sure was about us in the first place, and––"

“What do you mean ‘not about us in the first place?’”

“Well, he’d been acting kind of strange since last week––distant, you know––and when I brought it up last night he said he wasn’t so sure about us anymore. I asked what he meant, and he said he’s felt like I’ve had one foot out the door since the beginning.” Once Buck started talking, he couldn’t seem to stop. “I didn’t know what the hell that meant. And it started this whole thing. He was nice about it, calm, but it sounded like he had his mind already made up.”

“And you didn’t…I don’t know…fight for it?” Eddie knew he was treading dangerous ground, and he shrugged when Buck met his gaze. He rephrased. “What’d you say to him, Evan?”

Buck’s lips twitched. He used to hate it when people called him Evan, hearing in it an echo of his parents' disapproval, but the fondness in Eddie’s voice had changed that. Still, he didn't use it often; every time he did, it sparked something warm and embarrassingly soft behind Buck's ribcage. For a moment, Buck met Eddie’s gaze straight on, studying the shades of bronze and copper and gold his eyes became in the setting sun slanting in through the window. Then he sighed, looking down at his hands again.

“I didn’t know what to say. Honestly, I couldn’t argue too hard against it, because I have been distant lately. I––" Buck closed his eyes briefly, taking a breath before continuing, "I just keep remembering how exciting it was, how freeing, at the beginning. And I think I was so caught up in that that I didn't notice when we stopped...making sense together. I don’t know what changed, or when, but...something did.” Something bitter lodged in Buck’s chest at the admission. He knew it was him—something in him—that always seemed to ruin things before they started.

Eddie hummed, considering his response. It was one of Buck's favorite things about Eddie: how he carefully considered his words, turning them over in his head before he spoke. He watched as Eddie peeled back the sticker on his beer, then restuck it. “Could you––I’m not saying this is it, I’m just putting it out there––be second guessing the dating-a-guy part? Because it’s so new?” For some reason, Eddie felt exposed as Buck watched him; relief washed through him when Buck laughed softly. He hadn’t been sure how he would respond. 

"No, that part––that part always felt right. I think…maybe because of that, I wanted to think that we had more in common than we actually did. The physical part was…” He looked at Eddie, a rakish glint in his eye and a slow smile spreading across his face. “I’m sure you don’t want details, but,” he blew out a breath, letting his head fall back against the couch and tilting his face towards Eddie, “man, it was incredible.”

There was something in Buck’s slightly dazed, flushed expression that made Eddie straighten and look away. He shifted, reaching over to pat Buck’s leg. “Yeah, you rarely had trouble with that.” Buck swatted at Eddie with the back of his hand in response, grinning as he leaned forward to set his empty bottle on the coffee table.

“Hey, judgy. ‘Intimacy is a significant part of a healthy relationship’, remember?”

“Don’t quote your therapist at me. And I was married, you idiot. Of course I know that.”

“I’m just saying…I like kissing.” Buck grinned at Eddie. “And I’m good at it.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, drinking the last of his beer before grabbing the empty bottles from the counter. “Sure, Buck.”

He walked to the kitchen, so he didn’t see Buck’s eyes widen in indignation, but he smiled when he heard it in his voice. Buck had twisted around on the couch. “Whoa, whoa, wait up. You don’t believe me? I have years worth of evidence from women—and now even men—” Buck smacked the couch to emphasize his point, “to back that up.”

Eddie shook his head, smiling, and flipped the faucet on to rinse out the bottles. “Okay, man.” He set them in the sink to dry and snagged the dish towel, turning to face Buck. He leaned back against the oven, drying his hands and watching in amusement as Buck became more adamant. Sometimes Eddie felt like a kid on a playground, poking at Buck just to see what he'd do. 

"No, no, no, don’t ’okay, man’ me.” Eddie bit back a grin at Buck’s accusing tone.

“You know that you look like a stunned fish right now?” He dropped the dish towel on the counter and returned to the couch, tapping a finger underneath Buck’s chin to close his mouth. Buck turned to fully face him, pulling a leg up onto the cushion. His sweats were worn, slightly faded in the knees. A wave of fondness warmed Eddie’s chest; Buck never wore them outside the house.

“Nope. We’re not letting this one go—we’re settling it.” There was a glint in Buck’s eyes that often preceded some bad idea that Eddie would egg on—usually, the consequences were limited to a headache the next day.

Now, he wasn’t so sure.

Eddie closed his eyes briefly and let his head fall back against the couch, exasperated. “And how on Earth would we do that?”

Buck clapped his hands. “Easy. I’m going to show you.”

Eddie choked, suddenly glad he wasn’t drinking anything. He jerked up to face Buck on the couch.

“What?”

Buck’s smile didn’t falter. If anything, it widened. “Yes. You’re straight, right?” Eddie sputtered, and Buck cut him off, barreling forward into his point. “No...secret feelings you’re holding for me?”

“Shut up, Buckley.” Eddie laughed, shoving at him. Despite himself, he knew his face was red; he could feel the heat as it climbed up his neck.

Buck sat forward, feeling like Buck 1.0 was taking the wheel and letting him, loosening up. “No, hear me out. If both of those things are true, you should be completely impartial. You have no ulterior motive to tell me I’m good…” Buck spread his hands. “If I’m not.”

Eddie smacked Buck’s hands back into his lap, ignoring the flare of heat under his skin. “I believe you’re a good kisser, you smug bastard. Your track record tells me that much. I just don’t believe you’re as good as you think you are.”

Buck knew that the drinks they’d had weren't helping his conviction, but there was a momentum in his blood that he couldn’t quiet. One that drowned out the voice in the back of his head saying bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea. “Fine. Then, I kiss you. If you feel anything, anything at all, then it’s proof that I’m just as good as I think I am.”

Eddie pointed a finger at Buck, just for something to do with his hands. There was a nervous energy underneath his skin—an off-kilter feeling he experienced on calls sometimes. “I’m tempted to take you on.”

Buck’s grin only widened. Eddie laughed, then sobered slightly. He narrowed his eyes. “Why are we really doing this, Buck?”

Buck shrugged. “Because I like to win, and you like to win, and now I feel like I have something to prove.” Surprisingly, there was a defensive edge buried in his playful tone. Eddie felt it lodge between his ribs. He wasn’t sure when his heart had started racing.

Buck knew he was being ridiculous, and no part of him expected Eddie to agree, so he wasn’t sure why he was pushing so hard. Maybe it was remembering the rush of kissing Tommy for the first time. Maybe it was curiosity. How would it feel to kiss someone he’d known for years, someone he knew as well as he knew himself?

They were teetering on the edge of a dangerous precipice, and the part of Buck that propelled him into burning buildings wanted to rush headlong over it.

Still, his stomach dropped when Eddie said: “You know what? Fine.”

Buck drew back in surprise. “Wait––what?”

Now Eddie had that dangerous look in his eyes; the same one he had before they’d broken down the hotel room door at Chim's bachelor party. He seemed to be savoring Buck’s shock, gaze flicking across his face, the corners of his lips lifting. “Yeah. Let’s do it. But the bet goes both ways, and loser buys dinner.” Eddie sounded far more decisive than he felt. He bounced his knee, the only outward sign of the restless energy running through him.

Buck laughed, a slight rasp to it. “But I am attracted to men.” There was a shift in the way Buck was looking at Eddie now, a heavy-lidded, thinly veiled desire that made Eddie's mouth go dry. He'd never seen this side of Buck.

“But you’re not attracted to me, right?” Eddie fired back. “So the same rules can apply.”

There was a beat of charged silence. Buck swallowed hard; Eddie’s gaze flicked down to follow the movement, then back up. Buck fisted his hands. “Mmhm. Ground rules?”

Eddie shook his head slowly, his teeth snagging the edge of his bottom lip, and the sight dropped Buck, fast, into the familiar and exhilarating rush of anticipation. Warmth pooled in the pit of his stomach as he lowered his gaze, heavy, to Eddie’s mouth; studying the way his white teeth held back the delicate bow-shape of his bottom lip. He suddenly wanted to run his thumb over it. 

“You sure you want to do this?” Buck muttered, voice rough. Eddie’s lip slid from his teeth when he grinned.

“This is what you do every time, isn’t it?”

“Hm?” Buck asked distractedly, gaze still fixed on Eddie’s mouth, and Eddie huffed out a soft laugh. The room suddenly felt too small, too hot. There was a tingling in his hands.

“You do have a lot of practice at this, you dog.” Buck’s lips twitched, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he slowly raised his hands to rest on Eddie’s shoulders, thumb drawing over Eddie’s collarbone. Buck's fingers were trembling; it made Eddie's bones ache. “This alright?” Buck’s voice was quiet, reverent. 

Eddie’s voice was caught in his throat, so he simply nodded. He’d leaned forward without realizing it, and allowed his head to fall the rest of the way until their foreheads touched. In response, Buck drew his hands up, around the sides of Eddie’s neck and into his hair, nails scraping gently at the base of his skull. A tremor ran through Eddie: down his spine and across his shoulders. Buck felt it under his hands, and smiled.

“You’re not playing fair,” Eddie said lowly, pushing his forehead briefly, teasingly, harder into Buck’s. “You know I can’t help that.”

Buck tilted his chin up until their lips were a breadth from touching. His voice was husky when he whispered: “I never play fair.”

Eddie’s chest expanded in a quick breath before he surged forward, grabbing a fistful of Buck’s shirt to drag him into the kiss. Buck gasped against his lips; Eddie’s mouth was hot and blissfully soft. For a moment, Buck’s mind short circuited. His hands slid from Eddie’s neck, falling limply into his lap while his brain caught up with his body. His friend—his best friend—was kissing him…

And it was going to ruin him.

He knew that as surely as he knew that things had shifted between them on a seismic scale.

And if that was true, he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to make it worth something.

So when Eddie released Buck’s shirt to slide his hands up his chest, when he grasped the back of his neck to deepen the kiss, Buck groaned and grabbed Eddie’s hips to pull him in closer. His thumbs slid along, then under, the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt, and Eddie drew in sharp breath as a bolt of desire shot down his spine.

Buck broke the kiss to nudge Eddie’s head to the side, and Eddie made a weak sound of protest until he felt Buck’s lips trailing across his jaw and down the column of his throat. Buck focused his attention on the spot underneath Eddie’s jaw that they’d joked about being his weakness with girls, and Eddie’s hand tightened in Buck’s hair.

“Fuck, Evan.” The words were a gasp––it made Buck crazy. Crazy enough to grab Eddie by the jaw and drag their mouths back together. Crazy enough to fan the flames of the irrepressible heat underneath his skin; to move impossibly closer, to––

Eddie suddenly, almost violently, yanked himself out of the kiss. Buck’s head spun; his weight carried him forward and he fell into the space on the couch that Eddie had vacated. Disorientingly fast, Eddie was up and out, hands pushing through his hair as he walked away. There was a stunned beat of silence; no sound in the room other than their labored breathing.

When Eddie spoke, his voice was strangled. “Buck. We can’t do this. I can’t––I can’t do this.”

Buck didn’t have time to gather a coherent sentence, his head still wrapped in the fog of Eddie’s mouth on his, before Eddie was gone, slamming his bedroom door behind him with enough force to rattle the picture frames on the wall.

Reality came crashing back in; Buck’s blood went cold.

“Eddie!––Eddie, wait––” Buck shook the clouds from his mind and rose, a little unsteadily, to his feet, rushing over to pound on Eddie’s door as the sickening weight of consequence settled in.

Abruptly, the fight drained out of him; he let his head fall against the door with a soft thump. “Eddie, please,” Buck didn’t even try to mask the pleading in his voice. “I’m sorry. I don’t––I don’t know what I was thinking. Come out and we can talk about it, or––or not talk about it.” He pressed a fist to the door hard enough for the ridges to dig into his skin. He waited, heart in his throat. “It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to.”

Silence. A beat of stillness from the other side of the door.

Then: “Go home, Buck. I don’t want––,” there was a brief silence, “I can’t have you here right now.”

Something in Buck’s chest cracked open at the finality in the words. His knees threatened to buckle underneath him.

Some sickened, reckless part of him wanted to beg. Wanted to knock the door down.

Wanted to do anything to reverse the ruin of the most significant relationship in his life.

Instead, he dragged in a deep breath. He rasped “Okay.”

He pushed himself away from Eddie’s door.

Buck grabbed his keys from the counter with shaking hands and stumbled blindly to the front door, the world a haze around him. He’d been drunk often enough to know these weren’t the effects of alcohol: this was the dizzying aftershock of adrenaline.

The call gone wrong. The catastrophe that could have been avoided.

The pressure on his chest wasn’t intoxication—it was grief.

Buck didn’t sleep that night. He tossed, turned, and texted Eddie—his messages became increasingly pathetic as his agitation compounded his sleeplessness. Eventually, he tossed his phone onto the chair across the room to keep himself from checking it every two minutes. Eddie wasn’t going to text him back. He dreaded going into work. 

The next morning, Buck and Eddie managed to avoid each other completely…for about five minutes.

Eddie’s stomach dropped when Buck walked into the locker room. Of course, of course, Chimney had just left, the rest of the 118 already in the kitchen for breakfast.

Buck seemed to have the same reaction, his eyes closing briefly as he paused in the doorway. He sighed, walking to his locker and pointedly not looking at Eddie. Eddie spun his combination in, missing the right number twice. Anger made his chest tight.

After a few seconds of tense silence, Buck shut his own locker and leaned a shoulder against it, turning to face Eddie. His arms were crossed protectively over his chest. “Eddie. We have to talk about this,” he said.

“Do we?” Eddie bit out, jaw tight. He clipped his belt, still not looking at Buck.

“I was there too,” Buck said with a weak smile, trying at levity. “There’s no way the kiss was that bad.”

It was meant to lighten the situation; in the past, it would have worked. Eddie would have scoffed, then smiled, and they would have moved past it.

Now, it just pissed him off.

Eddie slammed his locker door and turned to face him. His voice came out sharp. “Buck, I didn’t leave because the kiss was bad.” He looked directly at Buck for the first time. “I left because it was really, really good.”

Buck rocked back a little in shock, his lips parting slightly. He stilled, eyes wide. “Oh.” His voice was barely a whisper.

“Yeah, ‘oh.’” Eddie started to turn away, but Buck grabbed his arm.

“Wait. Why are you so mad, then?”

Eddie yanked his arm out of Buck’s grasp, voice rigid. “Why do you think, Evan? You just broke up with Tommy—”

Buck’s eyes widened in indignation, and he started to cut Eddie off when the call bell rang, startling them both.

Hen jogged past, looking at them curiously, and it pulled Eddie back down to earth. “Saved by the bell,” he said, and left Buck in the locker room, not looking back as he let the door slam shut behind him.

It was a day of constant calls.

Buck and Eddie were professionals—as they always did, they locked their personal issues away to focus on the people who needed their help. But little things slipped through—the two of them had always worked in an effortless tandem, moving around each other and communicating wordlessly what they needed.

Today, their flow was off.

When they moved through a crawlspace to rescue a trapped child, Buck dropped the flashlight that Eddie tried to hand him. When they wheeled out a heart attack victim, Buck had to repeat himself twice when he read Eddie the blood pressure reading.

The other members of the 118 noticed. Hen raised an eyebrow at Buck when he and Eddie bumped into each other climbing into the firetruck. Chimney and Bobby exchanged a confused look when Eddie called for Chimney to help him with a stuck window, though Buck was standing right there.

In a lull between emergencies, en route to the next call, Hen leaned over to Buck and muttered: “You two okay?” Buck just shook his head tightly, gaze fixed out the window. “Trouble in paradise, hm.” She said, sitting back and patting Buck’s leg reassuringly. “You’ll figure it out.”

Buck wasn’t so sure.

It was the end of the shift before they were alone again. It was the early hours of the morning, dark, and everyone was packing up to head home; only Bobby, Eddie, and Buck remained in the locker room. Despite Buck’s pleading look for Bobby to stay, Bobby grabbed his bag and left, with a pointed look at Buck that said “sort it out.”

Buck sighed, tossing his bag onto the bench and walking over to Eddie. He stepped in front of Eddie’s open locker, shutting it, and Eddie stepped back, rolling his eyes.

“Get out of my way, Buck.” Eddie sounded weary.

“I will. When you talk to me.” Buck knew there was a raw, desperate edge to his voice, but he couldn’t mask it. It softened Eddie slightly—he sighed.

“All this,” Eddie waved a hand between them, “after all these years…and now I’m… I don’t know…” He tried again, frustrated. “I didn’t even know I was into guys and then you come along and— ” he dragged a hand down his face, “And mess with my head.” Eddie rubbed his jaw, a bitter twist to his grin. “And for what, right? For you to forget about your breakup for five seconds?”

Realization crossed Buck’s face, closely tailed by a flash of anger. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up.”

Buck’s face flushed. His voice was sharper than Eddie had ever heard it. He dropped his volume, though no one else was in the room. “You think I was just fucking around? That you’re some kind of rebound?”

Eddie was struck silent by the vehemence—the hurt—in Buck’s voice. He blinked. “What else am I supposed to think, Buck?”

Buck barked out a bitter laugh. “Jesus—give me more credit than that. You really think that poorly of me, that I would risk ruining our friendship for some meaningless kiss?”

“But…Tommy—”

“And why do you think he broke up with me?” Eddie stilled, brow furrowing at the drastic shift in conversation.

“What?”

Buck’s voice was low. “Why do you think he said that I had one foot out the door the whole time?” He tilted his head and gave Eddie a meaningful look, waiting. After a beat of silence, Eddie’s face cleared in realization, then disbelief.

“Oh.” He breathed.

“Yeah, ‘oh.’” Now Buck couldn’t meet his eyes.

Eddie felt as if the ground had shifted underneath him. “Why—why didn’t you—”

“Tell you? Because I didn’t want to fuck everything up. I didn’t want this,” he waved a hand between them, “to happen.”

Eddie’s heart pressed against his ribcage. He couldn’t seem to draw enough air into his lungs. “How long?” He managed.

Buck scoffed. “That I knew, and acknowledged it? Probably since you started hanging out with Tommy and I had to face this crazy jealousy—I guess not for him, in hindsight.” Buck took a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “Misplaced that energy, I guess.” He tugged nervously on a stray thread on the sleeve of his shirt—anything to keep from looking at Eddie. He couldn’t bear to see pity in his friend’s expression. “How long did I know, and not acknowledge it?” Buck was silent for a long moment. “Probably since my leg injury, when you came over to tell me to stop feeling sorry for myself.” He let out a huff of laughter, looking down at his hands. “And you let me watch Chris, and I saw so much of you in that kid during the tsunami.” Eddie made a soft sound, but Buck still couldn’t look at him. His throat ached. “Both of you have made me a better man.”

“That’s…Buck...” Eddie’s voice was rough.

“Yeah.” Buck’s voice gained strength even as it strained with emotion. “So. Be angry if you need to be. I’m sorry if I messed everything up. But don’t you—don’t you dare claim that the kiss meant nothing to me. It meant—” Buck couldn’t catch his breath. He swallowed hard, and said, “you mean—you’re…Eddie, you’re everything.”

And almost before he could finish his sentence, Eddie was kissing him.

Buck made a soft sound of surprise as Eddie walked him back against the lockers, pressing him firmly against the cold metal, his mouth hot and insistent. Like before, it took a second for his body to catch up with his head—Buck’s hands twitched at his sides before coming up to grasp Eddie’s waist, fisting in the starched fabric of his uniform. Eddie’s hands cupped Buck’s jaw, fingers behind his ears. He pulled back, just a little, and Buck chased, recapturing his lips as Eddie smiled against his. Buck couldn’t help smiling as well, and it broke them off softly, though they still held to each other.

Buck’s gaze was soft, shining like sea glass. Eddie’s lips remained slightly parted.

“So,” Buck drew in a soft breath, “we’re good?”

Eddie let out a real laugh, a smile spreading across his face. He ran a thumb across Buck’s cheekbone. “Yeah. I’d say so.”

“Oh, thank God.” Buck dropped his head to Eddie’s shoulder in relief and Eddie’s arms shifted to come up around him. He rubbed a hand between Buck’s shoulder blades, feeling him shaking. Eddie remembered another time, Buck holding him like this, when Buck broke down Eddie’s door to find a destroyed room and Eddie on the floor with a splintered baseball bat. He’d held him together, and waited for the waves to subside. He’d pressed Eddie’s hands, underneath his own, to his chest and told him to breathe with him. Eddie had, until the slow rise and fall of his friend’s chest settled his own. It was a kind of touch that he’d never had with anyone else, a collapsing into vulnerability that he’d never allowed himself, not even with Shannon.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered into Buck’s hair. “I’m not going anywhere now.”

[daintyshu]

𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄

xiii. the fun day out (1.2k written)

warnings. mentions of absent parents

"remember how we used to do this a lot back in the states?" jongseong speaks through a bite of his homemade kimbap. you were mid sip of your bubble tea when he speaks up so he waits for you to finish chewing on the pearls.

jongseong had planned a picnic for your 'fun day out' and it brought you back to the good old days before adulthood hit you like a truck.

"yeah, i miss it. eomma used to take us almost every weekend," you smile, thinking back on the memory of jongseong's mother taking you guys out for picnics when you were younger.

that's how close you and jongseong's family are. his mother would take care of you and your brother when your parents would so very often travel for work.

even on weekends where they were home, you'd much rather be at your best friend's place. his house felt more home than yours ever did.

on days where your brother couldn't play with you, you would take it upon yourself to walk the three houses down to your best friend's house, ring the doorbell that you could barely reach at the age of 9, and wait patiently for anyone to open up the big gates to let you in.

any normal adult would've been concerned at how often you and your brother were left alone at home. just because your brother was already a teenager, doesn't mean he was capable of taking care of the both of you by himself.

maybe that's why mrs. park took it upon herself to constantly check up on you two. maybe it's why she'd gotten so attached, treating you both like her children when your very own parents couldn't. it's why you two were more comfortable calling her 'eomma' rather than your own biological mother.

so maybe that's why when jongseong had come knocking on your door one fine day in 2015, you were apprehensive.

there was never a reason for him to do so. it's not like he ever willingly wanted to go over nor was he ever welcomed. your parents were never fond of him or his family. they didn't like how mrs. park would hover around as if they weren't doing a good enough job in taking care of you and your brother. (they weren't.)

ignoring the pointed look your mother sent the boy, you allowed him to pull you out before closing the door behind you two. "what's wrong, jay? you never come over," you had asked him after seeing the broken expression on the then 13 year old boy's face.

"we're moving back to korea," he breathed out but all you could hear was the sound of your heart smashing into pieces.

"moving back? jay, what are you talking about?" it wasn't a hard statement to comprehend but being in denial of your best friend leaving you made it seem like it was the most complicated thing you've ever heard in your 12 years of living.

maybe it's because of how young you two were but looking back on it, you couldn't help but laugh at how dramatic you were.

"eomma and appa wants to move back. my grandmother is sick and they want to be closer in case anything happens," he explained, trying to keep his emotions in check. you were on the brink of crying already and he couldn't let himself do the same. he had always been the tougher one between you two.

"y/n, please don't cry. i promise i'll keep in touch," he pulled you close as your body wracked with an onslaught of sobs and tears. "i promise we'll still be friends. i'll even download twitter for you like you've always wanted me to. we'll keep in touch there, okay?"

he then pulled away, keeping both hands on your shoulders to observe your tear-stained face. he chuckled at how adorable you looked, all pouty and sniffling. "now come, let's hang out. let's hang out every day until i have to leave," he then slung an arm around your shoulder and walked you both in the direction of his house.

"eomma misses you, by the way. she told me when i called her last night," jongseong says as he steals your bubble tea and takes a sip. he doesn't tell you that the reason he called her was to ask for her kimbap recipe that you loved so much.

"i miss her too! we really have to go back someday and visit her," you told him. he smiles at this. he loves how close you and his mother are. nothing else mattered to him as long as the two most important women in his life got along.

"i still remember how happy she was when i brought you back home after your first day here," he laughs as he settles down with his head on your lap. you lean back against the tree bark, thankful that your best friend had picked the perfect spot to lay your picnic mat.

"she really was! never felt a hug as comforting as the one she gave me that day," you run your hand through jongseong's soft hair. he looked really good blonde. you didn't think he would actually dye it that colour when you made a passing comment about it. but you guessed your opinion meant a lot to him.

"hey! i give comforting hugs too!" he pouted and you couldn't help chuckling at how cute he looked. he only ever showed this side of him when you two were alone. "you do, jjongie. runs in the family, i guess." you ruffle his hair and he playfully pushes your hand away.

"i just can't believe you didn't tell me you moved. like, we talked every week but you didn't even tell me the most important thing," he says as he brings your hand back to his hair, wordlessly asking you to continue playing with it.

this feels strangely intimate and you can't lie and say you weren't affected at all. but it's just your best friend. this was normal between you two. but it never fails to make you nervous every time.

"to be fair, we only ever talk at the end of the week to catch up. moving back was a sudden decision my parents made and i was still gonna tell you at the end of that week. i didn't think i'd see you at the school i was enrolled in," you laugh at the memory.

how crazy is that? you two lost each other just to find each other again. the universe somehow brought you two back together once again.

"i'm glad you did. i would've missed you like crazy. i don't know how i survived three years only talking to you at the end of every week," jongseong jokes, popping a piece of fruit into his mouth.

"yeah, now you can't go three hours without texting me. you do know i don't need an update whenever you need to go pee, right?" you tease.

it's true that he does text you way too much, but not once has it ever bothered you. you love how comfortable he is with you and you love having someone to be comfortable with, too.

he was and has always been your comfort person. and you're glad to know you were his too.

"yeah and i don't need mingyu edits sent to me every three hours but we don't always get what we want so suck it," he sticks a tongue out at you before sitting up. "now let's pack up. i heard there's nice trail to walk on around here somewhere,"

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synopsis. in which you work at odd atelier cafe and can only make hearts in your lattes, causing a certain boy to misunderstand your intentions..... then he brings his friends and chaos ensues.

taglist (open): @semisemirin1i82 @txtmetonight @ilyjxdz @miniature-tragedy @n1k1mura @t00miee @manooffline @aerivrs @saranghaohoshi @woninluv @moony-mari @nctsshoes2 @sunghoonnsupremacy @mnxnii @lisaswifey @enhy4me2 (strike through means unable to tag!)

[cheese-ducks]

TWRP ORIGINS

Chapter 7: I Can't Believe This Is My Life

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(Warnings: descriptions of anxiety)

Jack woke up feeling well rested, something he hadn't done in a while. Stan on the other hand was slightly hungover from the party last night.

"Hey, brah." Stan opened the door, his voice sounding slightly groggy. "Feeling better about the show?"

Oh right, the show. Guilt swirled into Jack's stomach at the mere mention of the concert. "I guess a little, again, I'm super sorry about missing it."

"Dude, it's no prob. Get that through your nerdy little head!" His insistence didn't make the guilt completely disappear, but Jack quietly laughed at the phrasing. 

"Thanks." He replied sarcastically. 

Jack checked the status of the house as Stan drifted to his bedroom. His parents' cars were absent from the driveway and his brother was definitely out of commission. The coast was clear. 

"So how did enrichment time go?" Jack's hushed voice barely breaking a whisper.

"It was incredibly enlightening!" Sung's voice was crystal clear in his head. It didn't feel as weird as he thought it would. "I have never felt more ascendant in my life!"

"To be honest I'm feeling pretty ascended myself, it's nice to know we both had a good night." 

He could vaguely recall Sung's night. Sung handed out the gifts, his mini fridge got destroyed by the robot from the parking lot, and they just had a good time. He remembered the feeling more clearly than the event itself, that was the part that felt weird. 

"And it's also good to know I am not crazy." His eyes darted around the room as he reconsidered his statement. "Well," he laughed awkwardly thinking about the last week and a half. "Uh, I wasn't wrong. I won't say that I'm not crazy, but I wasn't missing anything the other day. So yeah, that makes sense." 

Day one of sharing a vessel had officially started. 

.........................................................................

It was a pretty uneventful day, which was probably good for the first one. Jack mostly hung around the house doing various chores that Stan was supposed to be doing, if not for his currently hungover state. He figured it was the least he could do after missing the show. Sung was actually good company during the mundane activities, often asking questions about anything and everything. It brought a sense of wonder Jack didn't think was possible while washing dishes and vacuuming the floors. 

"Y'know, normally chores are super boring but it's actually been kind of fun with you around." Jack said as he finished sweeping the kitchen.

"Annihilating boredom is what I do best." Sung gloated for a bit. "Wait, these tasks usually inflict boredom?" His tone was much more concerned now. 

"Uh, yeah. It's chores." Jack replied with confusion.

"How often do you have to complete them?"

"Probably once a week, at least." His casual tone had Sung reeling. 

"Fascinating. Perhaps humans have a higher tolerance for boredom than most beings." 

"Maybe," He shrugged as he put the broom away and sat on the couch. "Because I probably should have taken a break an hour ago but I just wanna get this over with."

"Well it's very heroic of you to protect your brother from the forces of boredom while he recovers." 

"I guess boredom is a little bit different on Earth. It isn't some evil force to be destroyed, it just kinda happens sometimes." 

Sung's silence spoke volumes like he hadn't considered that before, or he was afraid to tell his band mates. Feeling his emotions was still weird, but Jack continued.

"And I mean you're not gonna kill boredom by staying hidden all the time. Why not do some busking or something?"

"What is that?"

"Oh, it's when you play music on the street, sometimes for money, the idea of it makes me nervous as hell." 

Sung considered it for a while before he answered. 

"Bringing amusement and joy to the masses in guerilla style warfare against boredom, it's brilliant! I will tell my band mates at once!"

.........................................................................

The first show on Earth, the first time these humans would be saved from the clutches of boredom! Everything was set up and poised to dominate. Havve's drum machine and the few amps they could bring were in place, Phobos' guitar case was set just in front so that people could give them money. It was all ready, and yet Sung was terrified. It was incredibly strange. He was sweating, his stomach hurt, he wanted to bite his hands; the most confusing of the symptoms. Being in front of the small crowd that had gathered out of curiosity felt wrong somehow. The strangest part was the all-encompassing force begging him not to play. Music was the one thing that brought him joy, how could he be scared to do it? He'd never felt like this before. Regardless he had a world to save so the boys began to play. Sung could feel the crowd's reactions. There was an initial state of bewilderment but most people who saw them began to dance and have fun. There was about 15 people in the crowd but all 15 minds were blown. As the show went on Sung's nerves still persisted. It slightly dissipated as the set progressed but it was still overwhelmingly present. Seeing how much fun his band mates were having helped it dissipate. Meouch was feeling the happiest he'd been since they crash landed, every riff and lick filled with passion and joy. Phobos was nervous at first due to the oxygen levels and general atmosphere, so he wore his helmet outside the ship as a precaution, but even through his metallic silicone mask Sung knew he was having a blast. Havve was executing each beat perfectly but there was an energy to his playing he hadn't seen in a while. It's as if the crowd was supplying him with the resolve to keep playing, as if he liked entertaining them. It was the most fun they'd ever had on this planet. This was truly special. 

The energy slowly faded as the night went on. Coming down from the high of performing was never an issue for Sung, but today he felt a massive weight off his shoulders. He was playing music with his friends all night, something that never scared him before. Why was he scared  now?

"Are you gonna help us, fearless leader?" 

Meouch's sarcastic remark snapped him out of his daze. 

"Of course I will, I'm just lost in thought I guess." He still wasn't completely focused on the task at hand. The question was a dark presence in his mind over the otherwise cheerful cleanup. He racked his brain for what could've caused the unprecedented negative emotions, until suddenly he remembered what the human had said.

"the idea of it makes me nervous as hell." 

It was him. 

.........................................................................

Jack came to in his bedroom. It sucked but at least he knew why he was blacked out at all. His bedroom window was open all the way, letting in the cool summer air. 

"Please remember close my window, man." Jack complained, assuming Sung was back in his head. 

"Who are you talking to?" 

He jumped at the sound of Stan's voice, he looked significantly better than this morning. Jack forgot that he was essentially talking to himself.

"Oh, um..." It was best to be at least semi honest, right? "I'm just mumbling to myself, so I don't forget anything." 

Stan looked a bit confused but overall he didn't suspect a thing.

"Well if it works, bud." He did a double take as he was about to leave the room. "Speaking of forgetting stuff where's your fridge?" Stan asked.

"I finally threw it out." There was a pride to his semi lie. It was kind of thrilling living this weird double life. 

"Good for you. Night, brah." 

"Night, brah."

He climbed into bed feeling completely normal for a change. Day one of sharing a vessel went off without a hitch, so far Jack was able to live his life and Sung was able to live his. There was still the blacking out part that he didn't care for at all, but he could talk to Sung about that in the morning. For right now he was optimistic about his secret double life and content to sleep thinking about what could be in store. He couldn't sleep however because Sung was right next to his face, glaring at him with deadly serious eyes. Jack flinched so hard he nearly fell out of bed. 

"What the fuck, man!" Though frightened at Sung's unmasked form, Jack still kept a hushed tone. 

"In the nicest way possible, what have you done to me, human?"

[sunderedazem]

“whenever you get stressed, you do this thing with your hands. what is it?”

For Corr plz

(Odessen, following the assault on Voss, and Arcann's early defection to the Alliance)

It's...very strange, having a brother again. Especially after losing Thexan to his own blind rage and jealousy. Especially when that new brother is, by right of birth order and raw strength in the Force, the rightful heir to the throne of Zakuul, even if he had been dismissive of his claim to the throne the one time Arcann had brought it up. Especially when that new brother is a half-brother, older made younger through the preservation of Carbonite, and the parent they share brought horror and pain to both of them in such different ways.

He didn't think Corrain would find it in his heart to forgive him, after he'd nearly killed the now-younger man on Asylum, impaling him clean through on a furious lightsaber. Not after he'd ravaged the galaxy Corrain so loved, glassed planets and terrorized billions simply because he could, because he was angry at the world and couldn't take it out on Valkorion. But then Corrain had found him on Voss, had quietly confirmed their shared father - and had stretched out a hand and said "...I cannot forgive you for anyone but myself, but if you want atonement...I can help you start somewhere, Arcann."

And now here he is, standing at Corrain's side as the tiny man paces around the holotable with the Alliance's latest reports, his long white hair tied back in a neat plait. He's rubbing at the base of his neck again, a habit Arcann has slowly noticed that occurs whenever he's particularly anxious about something. But before he can say anything, can ask any questions- Lana catches the offending hand in hers, pulling the slight Jedi to a halt, and plants a soft kiss on the nape of Corrain's neck.

"Relax, my sweet Jedi," she murmurs softly. Arcann turns away, feeling like he's intruded on something precious in spite of how they're standing in the command suite, in plain view of everyone. He's not the only one to do so either - he can see Eiri rolling his eyes pointedly, and the Togruta smuggler who's been such an impressively disruptive force for his supply lines, Kessin, also makes a face and looks away. It's not unusual for Lana or Theron to need to drag Corrain into a moment of calm, he's come to learn. Nor is it unusual for them to clearly display their affection for each other, with the odd side-effect of often quieting his brother's more passionate moments - as if he can only find peace within their presence.

But as Theron wanders over to help Lana corral their agitated Commander out of his nervous pacing, he can't help but wonder about the odd tic here - one that warrants simultaneous attention from both of his brother's partners. He bites his lip on the question, trying not to allow it to cross his tongue. The answer can come in due time, he's sure. When the memory of Valkorion's bitter ache on their pasts rings less clear.

And then Kessin clears their throat, absently flipping one of their lekku around their throat like a violet scarf.

"Oi, ex-tyrant, c'mere for a second," they call.

It stings - but he sighs heavily, turns away from where his brother is leaning into Lana's shoulder, a cold distance in those thunderstorm eyes, and follows them. He's led only a short distance away, just out of earshot of everyone clustered around the holotable - and then Kessin growls at him a little. Belatedly, he remembers that Togruta are carnivores.

"Okay, listen," they snap, but there's an unusual gravity to their voice and he can't help but straighten up somewhat at the tone. "You're about to ask about the reason why Cor's got both the Sith lady and spyboy on him right now, yeah? I can see you watching him when he paces like that."

Arcann doesn't have the heart to lie, so he nods once and then tucks his hands behind his back.

"Well...more precisely, I wanted to ask about the thing he's doing with his hands - where he rubs at the back of his neck," he confesses. "He...does it often, it seems, when he's anxious or stressed, and it's unusual. I wasn't about to ask NOW though, I'm not quite that foolish. Lana has already threatened my life at least four times."

Kessin appears only slightly appeased by that, and they lean back against the stone wall with an eye roll. They're taller than him, Arcann notices idly, though that's mostly due to their arcing montrals.

"Tactful choice," they comment lightly. Then they're quiet for a minute before their expression softens marginally. "Look. You're one of the few people in the galaxy I hate as much as Sith, but Cor's decided you're worth the effort somehow, and he's right about ninety percent of the time. So lemme give you some advice. If you ask about the neck tic - have a few bottles of alcohol with you, and put Lana or Theron on standby. I was there for part of uh...his particular incident. It's a hell of a story, and he's still shattered by it, in a lot of ways."

Arcann stares, a little flabbergasted.

"You- aren't trying to warn me away?" He asks, stunned. Kessin's expression hardens again.

"...no. Not when...well. This involves your father. His father. Ugh. The karking piece of shit Sith Emperor. You already know the little Commander hates your dad. This is related to why."

Arcann can feel his blood boil at the mention of Valkorion's other incarnation - and suddenly the way Lana and Theron are tag-teaming his younger- older?- brother into a semblance of calm makes far more sense.

"Then thank you for your guidance, Captain Meyka," he says, tone low. "I'm grateful."

They snort, but there's no bite in it.

"It's not for you, jackass."

-

He manages to catch Corrain alone later that evening, after carefully approaching Lana - suicidal, probably, but she'd just raised an eyebrow at him and nodded curtly, then shot off to find Theron - and the location is ideal. Arcann almost wonders if either the Sith lord or former Republic spy that his brother loves so much had suggested the young commander come out here.

The Odessen wilds are beautiful, after all. Calming but cold, steady but melancholic- a strange, delicate tightrope between pain and peace. And Corrain sits calmly in the grass, meditating. Arcann can feel him in the Force, like the warmth of a summer thunderstorm, clean ozone and soft rain and muggy heat, and dangerous potential. Storms can build, he knows - and Corrain feels like he's been waiting for the sky to break for years.

"You, uh...noticed my little habit, did you?" Corrain asks as he approaches. Arcann reaches for him without speaking, brushing the edge of his awareness against his brother's as carefully as he can, hesitantly projecting both worry and curiosity and the ache that wishes he knew this new sibling better- and Corrain turns to look at him and smiles wryly.

"I'm not going to break anytime soon, Arcann, you don't have to just tap me like that," he says- and then he sees the bag in Arcann's hand, a bottle of Alderaanian wine and a couple cups peeking out- and he laughs. There's a rueful twist to it.

"I was...warned this may help make the conversation smoother," Arcann explains with a sheepish frown, and pauses next to a patch of grass next to the Jedi. "Ah, may I-"

"Sit your ass down," Corrain laughs again, and there's no bitterness in the sound anymore. Arcann does as invited. "And alright, I might crack a bit. Who told you to bring wine?"

Arcann hesitates, then shrugs.

"Captain Meyka."

Corrain groans, a little exasperated, but fond.

"Classic Kess," he sighs. "Alright then. Ask."

Arcann pauses, regarding Corrain for a long moment. This close, his relation to Valkorion is distinct, but not obvious - there's a similarity in their faces that eludes definition- and then of course, there are those stormy grey-blue eyes. Valkorion had that eye color, once.

Corrain just watches him, white eyebrows hiding behind his bangs.

"My original question was going to be to ask why you rubbed at your neck when you were anxious...but I was informed it was related to our father, so-"

He doesn't miss the way Corrain's entire expression curls into a snarl at the mention of Valkorion, nor the way his thunderstorm aura crackles into static electricity and howling anger, a cyclone of hatred forming in the blink of an eye- and Arcann can almost taste the satisfaction of his own answering fury on his tongue. After all - it was this hate, it's intensity and passion which had convinced him to join his younger brother.

"...Darth Vitiate held me captive for almost two years," Corrain says finally, and reaches for the collar of his shirt, tugging it open and pushing the fabric down to bare the upper part of his back and neck. And Arcann freezes at the sight of raised, ropy scars striping over pale skin, at the jagged lines of stark white cut into the nape of the Jedi's neck. There's so many, he realizes. And some are layered over each other, as if to rip open old injuries for added pain.

When he lifts his head to meet his brother's gaze again, he can swear those grey eyes flash acid gold.

"He implanted a shock collar." The quiet voice is like ice. "Wired it directly into my spinal column while I was awake to feel the agony. Used it to punish me when I wouldn't kill for him, then forced me to kill anyway."

Ah. Arcann's expression sours, like a flame forced to smolder, and Corrain grins in answer. It's not a nice smile- there's a feral bloodlust in it, and the promise of vengeance. Arcann knows from his knowledge of the Jedi that it's not something they'd encourage. But it's what convinced him to follow - the genuine pain, the rage, the kinship it creates between them. The sure knowledge that this young storm - his brother, his younger sibling, found in the worst of ways - is his best chance at truly seeing Valkorion fall.

And yet- he can't shake the guilt, the sorrow for what he's done. For the suffering that must be having their father's spirit rattling around inside Corrain's subconscious. There's too much of Thexan's strength of heart in Corrain to see it lost to Tyth's fire and Izax's desolation.

So he reaches out, steadier this time, and lets his youngest sibling feel the weight of his promise.

"I will see his hold on you broken, little brother," Arcann swears, and it tastes a little like hope. "I will see you free again."

And Corrain softens back into kindness and summer rain and the smell of the earth after a nourishing rainstorm, and his smile turns true.

"And I, you, Arcann. And I, you."

[night-garden-fic]

Epilogue: At Last, Spring!

(Read on AO3)

"What do we do now?"

Epilogue: At Last, Spring!

     Edward stood on the Library's front step, lugging a heavy picnic basket in one hand and knocking at the door briskly with the other.  Inside, there was silence, then a sort of shuffling.  Finally, the door creaked open.

     "...Yes?  Oh!  Hey, Ed."

     Russell looked well, if a bit preoccupied.  Probably, he had been in the middle of a good book, and Edward almost felt guilty for tearing him away from it.

     Almost.

     "Hey yourself, Russell!"

     Opening the door a bit wider and leaning against the frame, Russell let his posture relax a bit.

     "What have you been up to?"

     Edward held up the basket.

     "Eat lunch yet?"

     Russell shook his head.

     "I was about to, actually."

     Just what Edward had been wanting to hear.

     "Well, how about we have lunch together today?  Hike up Mount Clemens, enjoy the view...  It really is gorgeous outside.  You shouldn't miss it!"

     Russell peered out into the sunny blue-green day, assessing these claims thoughtfully.  He broke into a shy, approving smile.

     "So it is...  All right!"

     Edward beamed.

     "Excellent!  Shall we?"

     Russell nodded distractedly, then leaned back into the gloom of the Library.

     "One second here...  Hey, Cecilia!  I'm taking a walk with Ed!  Go see Sabrina and Nicky if you're hungry or bored, okay?"

     A small, cheery voice came from somewhere in the dark.  Edward laughed.

     "...Parent of the year."

     Russell tried to glare, but was having trouble keeping a stiff upper lip.

     "Shut up, Ed."

     Both men laughed as Cecilia bolted between them, charging into the warmth of the day with a friendly wave.  Edward and Russell—though a good deal slower, and in the opposite direction—did the same.

     Spring had come to Kardia.

     And it brought with it, as it always did, a fresh start.  Pink and white flowers on the trees, falling like nectar-scented snow.  Days filled with slanted golden sun, heavy blue-violet clouds, and all the rainbows in between.  Edward's own garden; already bursting with cabbages and radishes, vibrant with the Moondrop flowers he'd decided to plant on a whim.  The warm air was restless with fresh, fragrant breezes, heavy with sea spray and new greenery.

     All, it seemed, was full of life.

     Including Russell, who sparkled with a lusty, bittersweet sort of vitality that only emphasized just how not-himself he'd really been that winter.  It made Edward feel strangely protective; made him want to scoop up the cheerful, curious soul who walked beside him on this fine day and take him home, to hold him forever and shield him from all pain.

     You know that's impossible.

     It was impossible, yes.  And, if Edward was honest with himself, it wasn't even desirable.  Russell didn't exist to be carefully safeguarded.  He existed to absent-mindedly dawdle down this wooded path, naming every plant he knew from a field guide he'd memorized, and occasionally tripping over an exposed root or his own feet.

     (I love all of him.)

     He did indeed, and he loved that freewheeling exuberance most of all.

     Russell was rather quiet and awkward, and usually struck people who didn't know him well as a bit stuffy.  Once you got used to him, however, it became clear that his personality was rooted in an earnest, inquisitive zest for life.

     But then...

     ...Then, if you were lucky enough, you really got to know him.  And your heart would break to realize just how hard Russell worked to hold onto that joy, and how terribly lost he was when it slipped free from his grasp.

     All too often, it did slip.  Would slip, no doubt.

     There would be no last time.

     Both men knew, deep down, that winter would eventually come again.

     For now, they were content not to think about all that.

     It was spring, wonderful spring, and Russell was bright-eyed and easygoing, uncurling in the sun like a new shoot.  He was still weaving along and examining every vine and leaf he saw; though he'd since moved on from naming them, in favor of telling some long, rambling story.  It was mostly about how he'd ordered some rose bushes from a botanical catalog that Tabatha lent him, and it was honestly quite the dull little tale.  But Russell, somehow, managed to make it seem interesting.

     He always does.

     Everything from a mundane anecdote, to a drunken evening, to a walk in the woods.  The light of Russell's sharp, overfilled mind colored everything, and his many-sided thoughts split every experience like a sharply-hewn prism.

     That, over almost everything else, was why Edward loved him.

     I want to tell him.

     (No.  Don't disturb this.)

     Sometimes, Edward knew, it was best to just be grateful for what you had.

     Right now, they had the dappled sunlight, the warm spring breeze, and the winding path ahead.

     And, of course, each other.  If not in totality.

     It was, every bit of it, good enough.

     (He'd be disappointed in you for that one.)

     He's also not a mind-reader.

     Edward figured that what Russell didn't know wouldn't hurt him.  As clever and curious as he was, Russell didn't seem to have any extra-sensory abilities, and was in fact a sight more oblivious to what went on around him than most people.  Just another one of those eccentric, slightly poignant charms that Edward held so dear.

     The afternoon rolled out before them like a plush green carpet, and all was going quite well—truly, much better than good-enough—until they began ascending the mountain in earnest.

     At first, Russell only began to slow down a bit, his manner gradually changing from cheerfully distracted to grimly determined.  As they made their way upward, Edward listened warily as Russell's breathing grew painfully labored, and by the time they'd climbed about a quarter of the way, he was wheezing; face still set in determination even as his body faltered, clearly drawing on his long-ago marching years.

     Edward began suggesting that they turn around and come back another time, but Russell wouldn't hear of it.  He stubbornly pressed on until, near the halfway mark, he suddenly fell to his knees.

     "Russell...!"

     Edward crouched next to his friend, who didn't seem to have the breath to respond.  Thinking quickly, he took the blanket from his basket, spreading it on the ground so Russell could lie down more comfortably.

     "There you are...  Do you think this is going to pass, or...?"

     The unvoiced second half of Edward's question being, "or will I have to carry you?"

     Russell collapsed on the blanket and rolled onto his back, clearly exhausted and still unable to speak.  For a moment, it looked as though Edward might have to carry him, and it was a somewhat daunting prospect.  Weedy and compact as Russell was, he was still a full-grown man, and they had strayed quite a ways from home.

     You've carried him before.  It'll be all right.

     He had, and it would be.  Edward knew, in his heart of hearts, that he would carry Russell to the ends of the Earth without question, tired bones be damned.  He was fully ready to prove it, too, but it seemed that would have to wait.  Russell quickly began to come around after a few moments' rest; still breathing hard, but at least able to talk.

     "...Okay, that was a little embarrassing."

     Edward sighed.

     "No...  I just pushed you too hard.  I'm sorry."

     Russell had been so lively and active of late that it was easy to forget just how ill he'd been over the winter, and the ways that it affected him still.  He frequently went for long walks without issue, and hadn't had much trouble with stairs in some time, but it seemed he wasn't quite up to mountains yet.

     "Don't...  Blame yourself...  You're the one who told me not to...  I'm dumb, Ed."

     Edward winced; noting that Russell kept having to pause mid-sentence, and that his lips had taken on a faint tinge of wintery blue.

     No, not up to mountains at all.

     "...Nonsense.  You're incredibly brilliant and determined, and that's why you never listen to a damn word I say.  Now, seriously...  Do you need to go home?"

     Russell shook his head.

     "No.  Just need to catch my breath."

     Edward knew Russell was one to downplay physical discomfort, so he kept one worried eye on him, but it really did seem like his breath was easing.

     "Okay...  You hungry?"

     Russell turned his head to let out a miserable resonant cough, then sat up cheerily.

     "Yeah.  I'm actually a little lightheaded."

     That statement struck Edward as terribly ironic, and he had to remind himself that hypoxia was no laughing matter.

     "Well, all right...  Let's dig in, shall we?"

     Edward sat the basket between them, opening it to reveal a stack of manju buns.  Russell nodded approvingly.

     "Those look pretty great.  Did you..."

     As he passed Russell a bun, Edward nodded in return.

     "...I indeed did!  Sabrina showed me how."

     Russell took a bite, chewing contentedly.

     "I could have guessed!  She's the best at these things."

     Edward paused before biting into his manju.

     "...Better than me?"

     Russell smirked.

     "Well, it's your first try.  You have to keep at it."

     Having finally bitten into the still-warm bun, Edward paused for a bit to savor it, finding it more than satisfactory.

     "Your purely selfless interest in my cooking skills inspires me."

     Russell plucked another manju from the basket.

     "Good to know."

     Edward, too, reached back into the basket, unearthing a cold, sea-green bottle of white wine from its depths.

     "Care for something to wash those down?"

     Russell nodded hesitantly.

     "Oh...  Sure."

     Edward rummaged around in the basket again, this time retrieving a corkscrew.  He wrenched the bottle open, brought it to his lips, and took a long pull.

     "...Sorry, I didn't bring any glasses.  I just thought the bottle itself was enough fragile glass to drag up a mountain for one day.  I'm not contagious or anything."

     With a smile, he passed the bottle to Russell, who took it rather awkwardly.

     Suddenly, Edward realized how this must have looked.  The invitation to drink after him, perhaps even the presence of the wine itself...  It all seemed like a blatantly romantic move, and a silly and contrived one at that; like something a sixteen-year-old would try to pull.  But the truth was, a little wine just seemed appropriate to the jubilant spirit of things, and he really had thought better of dragging glassware along.

     Maybe you should have thought better of all of this.

     After a moment's trepidation, Russell tipped the bottle for a hearty swallow, passing it back to Edward and wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

     "I don't mind...  I'm just kind of surprised you still trust me to drink."

     Edward shrugged, taking the bottle and throwing back a terse sip.

     "Russell...  You're the most obstinate man I've ever met.  I know that if you want to drink, you're going to drink.  And the way I figure it, you can either drink alone and miserable, or you can knock back a few with me and maybe have a good experience.  That make sense?"

     Russell had returned to his manju bun, chewing slowly.

     "Makes a lot of sense, actually."

     Edward grinned.

     "...And besides, it's not like you can drink the whole bottle and lose your wits when you're sharing with me."

     He passed the bottle back to Russell, who accepted it cheerfully.

     "Quite true."

     Edward playfully nudged Russell's shoulder.

     "Hey...  Sharing, remember?"

     Russell passed the bottle back to Edward, who took an even more impressive gulp.

     "Sorry."

     Edward dabbed his mouth with his sleeve.

     "Don't worry about it."

     They went on like this for a while, passing the bottle back and forth as they picked at their manju and admired the view, which really was lovely.  Edward had originally planned for that view to include the whole town and the flat blue expanse of marine horizon, but the world seen from halfway up had its own unique charms.  They were sitting just above the treetops, seemingly lost in a sea of pink and white and green.

     It was as though they were the only two people left in all the world.

     Russell took a long sip, sighing contentedly as he passed the bottle.

     "It really is nice up here."

     Edward saw that there was only one good gulp left, and made short work of it before sliding the empty bottle back into the basket.

     "It's like you read my mind."

     They sat quietly for several minutes, the wine and the high sun warming their bodies.  There was actually a faint sheen of sweat glistening at Russell's hairline, and he was fiddling with a zipper as he began to speak again.

     "You know...  Sorry to bring this up, but back when things were going so badly this winter...  Well, it seemed like the world would never bloom like this again.  I felt dead, you know?  But now everything is alive, and new, and..."

     The memories were sad, but Russell clearly wasn't.  He sounded hopeful, almost over-eager for what this new spring might hold.  Edward smiled as he shrugged off his own white coat, remembering one of the reasons for this impromptu little celebration.

     "...And speaking of new life, I actually have some good news."

     Russell wriggled out of his overshirts, tilting his head inquisitively.

     "Hmm?"

     For some reason, Edward wanted to laugh.

     "Tori's expecting."

     Russell's jaw dropped.

     "Oh...  Oh wow.  That makes so much sense.  No wonder the poor girl's been so tired."

     Edward smiled, the stifled laugh in his throat lightening his voice.

     "I'll say...  She's been working so hard, and she didn't even know it until yesterday."

     Russell was still shocked and scatterbrained, grinning and shaking his head.

     "Gods...  I've known her since she was twelve, and she practically lives with me, so that must make her kid my...  I don't know.  What does that make me?"

     Edward patted Russell on the back.

     "Really lucky that a lot of people love you?"

     That brought a few tears to Russell's eyes.

     "Yeah.  I guess so."

     And then they fell silent again, gazing out over the blooming trees.

     Though really, it was only Russell who gazed out over the trees.

     Edward was too busy trying not to gaze at Russell.

     This proved a losing battle.  All he could think about was how perfectly Russell scattered and refracted the abundant sunlight; as though his body—much like his mind—was one big gorgeous prism.  The light played exquisitely upon the silver in his hair and the rims of his glasses, the down on his bare arms and the luminously pale face gone slightly pink from the sun and the wine.  Every precious inch of him seemed lit up from within, glowing and haloed spectacularly.

     And it was almost funny, because he didn't even seem to notice.

     Ever-oblivious, Russell simply sat there, cross-legged and blithely gleaming.  His head was propped thoughtfully in his hands, and his undershirt flapped loose in the breeze; alternately revealing a strip of his silky, phosphorescent back and draping suggestively over the arch of that delicate, knobby spine.

     Edward turned away with a sigh.

     This was just one more thing he'd have to learn to endure, if they were to continue being friends.

     Russell's heavy drinking.  Russell's damaged mind.  Russell's strange, inviting, understated beauty.

     It was all a lot to deal with.

     And yet, what else?

     There was nothing else, or at least nothing Edward could seriously entertain.

     Russell, still glowing, emitted a vague annoyed sound from the back of his throat, then sprawled out on the blanket, staring at the sky.  Edward—wanting to stay on his friend's level—leaned back casually on his elbows.

     "...Something wrong?"

     Now Russell was awkwardly twisting his lower body, wincing slightly.

     "I'm okay.  My back is just bothering me."

     Edward sat up.

     "Let me see if I can help."

     Russell braced his hands under his spine, hissing slightly through his teeth.

     "I don't know if you-"

     Edward smirked.

     "...Well, it's not like I have medical training or anything!  Come on.  Let me do my job."

     Russell sighed, rolling grouchily onto his stomach.

     "Fine.  Have at me."

     (Believe me, I'd want nothing more.)

     Suddenly nervous, Edward tentatively placed his hands on the small of Russell's back.  His skin was so warm under his thin shirt, and his waist was lissome and yielding.  Edward reminded himself not to get distracted, calling up his old clinical mindset.

     He's just a patient.  You're just trying to help.

     (It feels so good to touch him.)

     It stopped feeling good once Edward realized he'd never, in his entire career, felt muscles so tense.  It shouldn't even have been possible.

     "Russell...  You're all in knots.  No wonder you hurt.  Just try to relax, and we'll go from there."

     Russell shifted slightly, with an exasperated grunt.

     "...Okay.  That better?"

     Edward could feel no difference.

     "Just try to go limp, okay?"

     Another slight shift.

     "Like that?"

     Edward sighed as he realized the likely explanation.

     "...You don't know how, do you?"

     Russell shrugged.

     "What's to know?"

     Edward pressed his thumbs into the hard snarls of Russell's back.

     "Clearly, something you don't.  It makes my own back hurt just thinking about it...  Russell, how do you even walk around?"

     Russell mumbled into his folded arms.

     "I don't know...  I guess I'm used to it?"

     Edward pulled his hands back, dusting them off as though he'd just been handling something horrid.

     "Well, you shouldn't be...  You're really hurting yourself."

     Russell turned to face the sky again, his movements slow and his teeth gritted.

     "It's not like it's all the time.  It's...  There are days when everything just aches, and I...  I don't know.  I guess I do sometimes worry that something might be really wrong with me.  You think it's all just tension, then?"

     The way Russell stared into and past the great blue yonder reminded Edward of the first time he'd ever seen him; floating in the bath all those years ago, back before they'd ever spoken.

     Back before they knew everything they knew.

     Oh, Russell.

     I finally know who you are.

     Edward knew that Russell was every bit the beautiful dreamer he'd seemed through the otherworldly haze of steam on that long-ago day.

     But by now, he also knew that he was so, so much more.

     Bright and curious, generous and quiet.  Subtly hilarious, by turns on accident and on purpose.  Infuriatingly stubborn and sharp at times.  Heartrendingly well-intentioned, even at his worst.  Surprisingly full of contradictions.  Confused, frightened, and terribly brave.  Often in an amount of pain that was difficult for even Edward to fathom.

     Most of all, he was simply Russell, and all Edward wanted was to be by his side.

     (I love all of him.)

     Edward gently placed a hand on Russell's shoulder.  That, too, was drawn painfully tight.

     "I think it's pretty likely, yes.  Don't underestimate how the mind affects the body."

     Russell looked defeated.

     "...Well, that makes me feel a little hopeless."

     Edward could see that hopelessness on his face, and it tugged painfully at his heartstrings.  Before he really knew what he was doing, he had stretched out beside Russell on the blanket, gathering him protectively in his arms.

     "Okay...  Come on."

     Russell seemed a bit taken aback, but he melted gratefully into the embrace, some of that awful stiffness dissolving.

     "...What's this for?"

     Edward shrugged.  What was that for, indeed?

     "You just looked like you needed it."

    Russell bowed his head into Edward's chest, then lazily draped an arm over his waist.

     "Well, you always seem like you might need it, too, so here."

     Edward felt Russell's grip tighten, pulling him even closer.  It dawned on him that he'd actually forgotten how it felt to be held.

     "You may be right."

     They lay like that for a while; Edward embracing Russell's coiled-spring frame, Russell holding on tight as he breathed shallowly and tried to keep very still, as though he thought that was what resting meant.  The sun beat down on their skin, and the petal-laden wind stirred in their hair.  Head still tucked into Edward's chest, Russell broke their silence with a wry, quiet voice.

     "...We're just a couple of lonely bastards, aren't we?"

     Edward laughed.

     "I guess we are.  I don't feel so lonely right now, though."

     Russell sighed contentedly.

     "No, I suppose I don't either."

     And why would he?  They were truly together, in a way they'd never really been before.  All Edward could think was that, if Russell could only relax, this would be perfect.

     This would be all I ever wanted.

     (Most of it, at least.)

     It was then that something unexpected happened.

     As Edward readjusted himself around Russell's body, his hand accidentally brushed the small of his back in a way that, had it been intentional, could only be interpreted as slightly boundary-crossing.

     He was just about to apologize, when he realized that Russell had shivered and sighed slightly, but made no attempt to pull away.  Cautiously, he allowed his hand to retrace that dangerous path, and was met with the same response.  He swore he even felt some of Russell's tension dissolve.

     What does that mean?

     (You know what it means.)

     What should I do?

     (Risk everything.)

     Shaky and tentative, Edward slipped his hand under the hem of Russell's shirt, meeting no resistance.  Heart pounding, half convinced that he was on the edge of waking up from a beautiful dream, he allowed his palm to make full contact with Russell's back and waist.

     (Is this what you imagined?)

     It wasn't, not quite.  Russell's soft skin was slightly dry, and there was a vague awkwardness to his bones that Edward hadn't really anticipated.  But he supposed that was all right, because as soon as he felt that spare, tense body soften and unwind in his hands, he understood exactly why it wasn't what he'd imagined.

     It was because he never, on his cleverest days or his loneliest nights, could have imagined something so wonderful.

     Please don't wake up.

     (I'd rather die in my sleep.)

     Edward, of course, didn't wake up.  Not even when a cold, nervous hand slipped up his bare back.

     This was real.

     Everything was changing.

     Russell pulled back slightly, but only enough to look Edward square in the eye.  Russell's own eyes were red-rimmed and glistening, but so piercing and lucid that Edward felt his heart skip a beat.  That gaze held a perfect, wordless sort of understanding.

     It seemed to say, "I know who you are, too."

~*~

     Russell had already figured it out, but the feel of Edward's warm hand on his skin only confirmed it: this was what he'd been waiting for, through all those long, restless, half-drunk nights.  In those uneasy hours when he longed for the distance between them to dissolve, this must have been at least part of what he meant.

     This wonderful tangle of limbs, their synchronized breath, the silken-warm breeze blowing Edward's glossy hair over both their faces; all their intricate and considerable defenses lowered at last, finally together in the truest sense.  And then there was Edward's cautious hand on Russell's bare back, a gesture so loving and tender that it moved him to tears.

     Somehow, it was at once a statement and a question: "I love you." "Will you love me?"

     The only answer Russell could think of was an echo, his own shy hand seeking Edward's skin:  "Me too."  "I will."

     (If you'll have me.)

     Slowly sliding his hand up Edward's spine, over sturdy bones and well-padded muscle, Russell rolled back just far enough to meet his beloved friend's eyes.  Deep, fathomless blue; hectic with love and astonishment.

     For what felt like a small eternity, they spoke without speaking; neither body saying anything more than yes, yes, yes.

     What else, indeed, was there to say?

     Then Edward, glacially slow, began moving in closer, and Russell knew what must come next.

     You'll get to find out.

     (Haven't you been so curious?)

     He knew what came next.  And he also knew that he was tired of living such a cringing, skittish existence.  Of sitting frozen in place, bracing for the worst so long and hard that he was throwing out his own back.

     As though it were the cue he'd been waiting for all along, Edward's touch signaled to Russell that those days were over.

     It was time to let go.

     Time to act.

     Time to live.

     Before he had the chance to start thinking and ruin everything, Russell grabbed hold of Edward's face in one swift motion; palms cupping his fine sharp jaw, fingers tangled in the long hair at the nape of his neck.

     Don't think about it!

     Moving at the command of a numinous, unthinking passion, Russell roughly dragged Edward into a kiss so intense that it bordered on violence.  After a moment's stunned pause, Edward quickly adjusted to the frenetic new pace that Russell had set, returning the kiss with the same half-starved vigor.

     It wasn't a perfect kiss, by any means.

     In fact, it was objectively rather awkward.  Edward's hair was all over the place, and their glasses slid down and clinked together.  Russell had to learn, on the spot, the mechanics of kissing someone with a mustache.  Most of all, they both wanted it a little too much, dissolving into an exuberant mess of tongues and teeth.

     No, it wasn't perfect.

     It was just the most wonderful kiss Russell had ever experienced.

     Neither of them seemed to want it to end; drawing it out until the last possible moment, diving until they ran out of air.  Russell's head spun, and he started seeing stars.  When they finally forced themselves apart, all they could do was lie there panting, still holding each other.  Edward's hand was moving absent-mindedly up and down Russell's ribs, steady and soothing.

     As soon as his breath returned, Russell inhaled deeply, gearing up for a contented sigh.

     On the exhale, however, he found that all he could do was laugh; a laugh of elation and love-of-life, and a laugh at the fact that, when it came down to it, it really had been that easy.  And that very ease, after all that fretting and heartache, struck Russell as patently hilarious.

     But, when he turned to Edward, he saw that he was crying.  Not tears of sorrow, but perhaps tears of pure emotion; streaming down his temples in two neat streams as he smiled up at the blue, blue sky.  Russell took Edward's face in his hands again, gently this time, and carefully wiped them away.

     "Ed...  You're too sentimental for your own good."

     Edward softly cupped Russell's face with his palm.

     "...I'm too sentimental?  Gods, look at yourself."

     Russell realized that he, too, had begun cheerfully weeping.

     "Good point...  Maybe that's not such a bad thing, though?"

     Edward's other hand curled around Russell's waist, pulling him closer.

     "I don't think so, no."

     They stayed like that for quite some time; laughing, crying, holding each other tight.  Then they leaned in for another kiss, slow and closed-mouthed this time around.

     The kiss of two lovers who had all the time in the world.

     Russell wondered, with some anxiety, where all that time would take them.

     What do we do now?

     The simplest answer, he supposed, was no more or less than what they'd already been doing: they'd just keep figuring out how best to love each other.

     They would try, and they would occasionally stumble, and they might even get hurt from time to time.

     Still, they would keep on trying.

     They would have each other.  And they would have each other's love, in whatever shape that took.

     Russell tenderly kissed Edward's high, cool forehead.  Then he disentangled himself from his grasp, sitting up and taking in the wide, still world.  The sea of trees, the boundless blue sky, the peak cresting up behind them.  He felt almost painfully alive, heart swelling with daring and potential.

     Edward slowly sat up, laying an arm across Russell's shoulders.

     "Ready to head back?"

     The steady weight of that embrace.  The blue sky, the peak.  The world at their feet.

     Russell's eyes followed the path to the summit, realizing that it no longer looked quite so far.

     "...Actually, would it be all right if we went up the rest of the way?"

     Edward glanced up at the peak and then back at Russell, looking worried and skeptical.

     "It would...  But are you sure you're up to it?"

     Russell heaved himself up onto his knees.  Edward quickly stood beside him, taking his hand and helping him to his feet.  Russell met him with an unwavering gaze and an easy, slightly challenging smile.

     "I won't know until I try."

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾THE END☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

[stuckonvenus]

Isolated

NEW YORK CITY, 2011

RAINBOW LUALHATI WOZNIAK WAS A STRANGE LITTLE GIRL. If her name wasn’t a dead giveaway, having no mother and a suddenly absent father was another indicator. She grew up knowing more about her school teachers than her own family; but the day that defined the rest of her life happened before all of this. It was when Amihan and Walter Wozniak were madly, deeply in love, when date night was every Thursday and she would be brought leftovers from the fanciest restaurants in Manhattan or souvenirs from the exhibits they visited, when she could sit for hours at a time while her mother worked meticulously on braiding her hair because it was tradition and no one could do it any better, when both her parents were present at night to tuck her into bed with the same story of how they met that would always lull her to sleep. 

One evening, she awoke to hissing coming from outside her bedroom door. She climbed out of bed, limbs dangling as she was a lanky seven-year-old whose stealth was in need of fine tuning, and pressed her ear up against the wood paneling that separated her from the conversation occurring on the other side.

“You’re never there,” Amihan had said, her voice dripping with poison. “You’re distant, Walter. It’s only gotten worse. You’re lucky she hasn’t picked up on it yet, but if she’s anything like me she will.”

“So you think that you leaving will make it any better?” Walter returned just as venomously. “You don’t leave when things get hard or change, Amy. You can’t leave. What am I supposed to do with her by myself? She needs her mother.”

A scoff escaped Amihan’s lips. “Maybe that secretary of yours can be her mother. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. How every woman looks at you. Do you know how small I feel when everyone in the room can’t take their eyes off of my husband? Plotting how to destroy my family?”

“You’re doing that all on your own now,” Walter said. Reina could feel her lower lip begin to tremble. What was happening? “You’re being paranoid. You’ve always been like this. You’re the only woman I’ve ever wanted, Amy, you can’t—”

“I can. I am. I don’t want to do this anymore. I won’t.” she said it with such conviction that even her daughter believed her. But what was she meant to do? All she could do was listen, her eyes pressed closed, tears developing on her waterline that refused to fall, singeing her pupils. “When you know you aren’t enough for someone you love, you know when to leave, too. You’re no exception.”

When Reina finally mustered the courage to twist open the doorknob to her bedroom and reveal herself, she hadn’t realized that she sat silently for too long — because whenever she looked ahead, the hallway was empty, and when she ventured out to the top of the staircase and looked down into the living room, she could only see her father sobbing into empty hands. Although she was at equal liberty to feel the same, she bottled up her feelings and slowly descended downstairs so she could approach Walter. He didn’t realize she was there until he lifted his head up to wipe away the tears, slightly startled by her presence. 

She stared at him for a moment before opening her arms to crush him in a hug, but she couldn’t wrap her arms around him as he’d sat up from where he was seated. “You need to be in bed, Rainbow.” he said as if nothing had happened at all. “Go back to bed. Go!” More tears accumulated in his eyes, and, without much else to do and not knowing how to protest, she took slow steps backwards until she had met the bottom of the staircase. Looking up at her bedroom ceiling where Amihan had stuck glow in the dark stars, she counted all of them to tire herself out, and before she fell asleep fully she wished on one.

She wished that she’d have the courage to find someone that she would never have to leave. Her only exception.

PARIS, 2021

It’s not often that girls as young and relatively unknown as Reina were invited to prestigious fashion events — but there she was, seventeen years old, sitting in the bathroom of her hotel room in Paris after a night she was destined to remember for the rest of her life. She was unburdened of the Chanel number she was gifted after walking the runway for the afterparty, which she’d grown quietly thankful for. Everything had moved so quickly, she hadn’t known what to do while it was happening. All that remained of the piece were her white stockings that were now poorly matched with a t-shirt she bought at a seaside shack when she visited Brighton before departing for fashion week. She kept twisting the skin of her fingers around, feeling a phantom pain of not having rings accessorizing each appendage. There was someone knocking on the door, the noise muffled as blood rushed through her ears. She couldn’t process that she was being summoned out whenever there was so much sound happening throughout her body; it was as if she could hear her bones creak underneath her skin, the ache in her lower half and on her waist so innate it transcended senses. 

Her father was right after all. She wasn’t ready. Not for solo trips, not for her own style, not for the world, and certainly not for a boyfriend. Tripp was the polar opposite of what was expected for a girl like her, father’s disapproval aside: he was a C-list performer who normally booked gigs at raves in the desert and was seven years her elder. But he wasn’t as callous or pretentious as partners her friends had ended up with. There had always been a horror story associated with each of them, and she supposed her time had to come eventually. She was just hoping that it’d turn out differently. Optimism was a mindkiller. 

“Bowie?” Tripp said, his voice cutting through the thick swathes of thought that permeated her brain and prevented her from paying attention. “Bowie, let me in, please. I’m worried.” He sounded sincere enough, which made the guilt curdle worse inside her stomach that was already tied in a thousand complicated knots. She glanced up from where she was looking down at her socked feet and into the mirror. Her eye makeup was smudged, so was her lipstick, a red tint which had faded, and her naturally curly hair was beginning to burst from the mold it was straightened into before the show, like thread at the seams. 

She adjusted her t-shirt and shuffled up to the door, pressing her forehead against it for a moment before she reached to turn the knob and open it. When she looked up, she saw the concerned gaze of Tripp, his blue eyes glazed over from the sleep he’d gotten while she tossed and turned restlessly. 

“You can’t do that to me,” he said immediately as he saw her, reaching out before she recoiled instinctively — an act that seemed to both confuse and upset him. They’d just slept together, why was she playing the fawn? He must not have known his own strength, because he clasped her shoulder with one hand and pulled her into his arms. She hadn’t known the feeling of closeness until she met Tripp. Ever since her mother left, all she could remember was isolation. Spending hours in her room alone, given homework by her tutor who was always gone by the time her father arrived home late in the night, too exhausted for conversation. When she was younger, she used to believe he only needed time. One day, he’d want to hold her close and never let go. But that day had never come. And in that moment, with Tripp’s arms secured around her, she almost missed the times when she was untouchable. 

Reina could still feel the ache between her legs, encouraging her to peel herself away from her boyfriend. “I can’t... Do that again,” she said. Even after the shower, she could feel all the spots he touched, where he hadn’t realized he was squeezing too tightly. “I’m not ready. I was drunk and — it was stupid, Tripp.”

“You don’t mean that,” Tripp objected as he moved to hold her hands. “C’mon, Bowie. I know it can be hard for girls the first time, but that’s why you don’t just do it once. You gotta get used to it.”

She could only shake her head, her hands slipping from his grasp. She felt his fingerprints atop hers and bunched her hands up into fists, willing the sensation away. “It’s not like that. My dad’s right, I shouldn’t be doing anything else other than what I came for. He doesn’t even know you’re here—”

“Screw your dad, Bowie. He can’t control everything you do, you know that?” he said, sounding like he was pleading. He reached up, wiping away a tear that had fallen from the corner of her eye. She flinched. He pulled away. “Seriously, why are you acting like I’m the bad guy? I just wanted to have a good time before your dad started dictating your life again.”

Reina rubbed her nose and stepped around Tripp, moving to collect her clothes off of the floor. “He only wants me to be safe.” she insisted. She’d figured for a long time that was the reason he kept a notable distance between them as father and daughter. In case she ended up anyway like her mother, he didn’t want to endure that heartache again, but she’d promised a while ago that she would be different. Although now it seemed as if she didn’t have any choice in leaving. 

“You are safe. You’re safe with me. I tell you that all the time,” he nearly whispered, combing her wetted down curls out of her face and stroking her cheekbone. 

“I wasn’t ready. I’m sorry.” she said in return as she pulled away. “I have to go.”

As she went to grab her bag, she could hear Tripp huff behind her, and her body stiffened before she recomposed herself and went to grab the doorknob. She couldn’t leave, however, without him having the last word.

“You’re just like your fucking mother,” Tripp spat. She froze for a moment, feeling all the aches across her body pulse at once and keep her from leaving. “Is that really how you want to live, Bowie? Maybe you are better off alone.”

Reina glanced over her shoulder at him, analyzing his harsh body language. She rolled her shoulders and lifted her chin up. “Maybe I am.” she said before opening the door and leaving him reeling in her wake. 

[early20sfailingplenty]

All alone I break // upset!reader x Sinclairs // choose your own dynamic (platonic or romantic).

Summary: you're having a really bad day and none of the Sinclairs are around to comfort you. You wander the town, lonely and upset and tired, and just as you break, all alone in the middle of the main street, you're found and brought home emotionally and physically.

Got pissed off at my parents again for multiple reasons so wrote this to calm myself down. Hopefully it provides someone some comfort! I wrote this as a 'you're dating/are very close to all the Sinclairs' dynamic, but it could also be read as platonic; I've left it up to individual interpretation. Take what you need from this fic.🥺

AS ALWAYS, GENDER NEUTRAL READER, NO CODED LANGUAGE, Y/N AND "YOU" USED.

TW; canon typical darkness, murder, crying (reader), fic's built around being and feeling alone (you're having a bad day and want some cuddles/comfort but no one's around🥺😭💔), reader is morally just as bad as the Sinclairs (I can't see you being in Ambrose permanently and NOT having at least a grey morality), possessive language ("your Sinclairs"), irresponsible driving (Lester is on the phone with you while he drives) but nothing bad happens, swearing, mentions of alcohol, this could be read as containing toxic relationship elements, but just like always, I wrote this to be a genuine love and connection between you and the brothers so if it does come across to contain toxic elements, please know it was unintentional!!! It just occurred to me that it could come across that way so I'm mentioning it here.

Word count: 4, 097 (why can I never write a short thing, I😩)

The town was quiet and you knew not where anyone was. The last you had heard, Bo was in the garage working on his truck after some fucker had thrown a beer bottle at the headlight and subsequently broken it (and, oh, how Bo had ripped the man to shreds in retaliation), Vincent was in the basement turning said man into one of his latest art works (the location of which was to be in some barely used, dusty room because Vincent was a petty man when he wanted to be), and Lester was, well... you never really knew where Lester was.

That was the last you had heard.

But that had been hours ago.

The garage lights weren't on and there was no music blaring out from the main room which was used to maintain the illusion of a quaint, bustling town. There were no sounds to alert you of Bo's presence, and the metal grate just off the often walked curb only emitted darkness and silence. Bo wasn't there. You took comfort in the sight of his truck, thinking that that meant he was still in Ambrose, until you remembered that there were many other vehicles on the roads (to give the illusion of others living in the town) which he could have used as his transport.

The basement had been filled with nothing but thunderous silence; the engines switched off because the main part of Vincent's work (the wax application which always turned your stomach just a little) was done. The statue was there in the middle of the room, almost finished, but Vincent was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Jonesy for that matter, which led you to believe that Vincent, too, had left Ambrose. Both human and dog being absent typically meant a trip out.

And Lester was presumably safe and well somewhere else, far from Ambrose. His house was on the outskirts of the neighbouring town; too far a distance for you to walk by yourself at this time of night... if the others had left Ambrose, then you were better off staying. Ambrose could never be left unattended, lest its many many secrets be discovered by someone it shouldn't be.

As for you, you were walking the street which led into Ambrose off the curve from the washed out road which shielded the town from people who didn't know where to look through the foliage to find the path. The church was up ahead of you, its lights on but nobody home, the garage station was dark and silent, and behind you was the pet shop, but that was quiet, too. Nobody was around. It was just you.

Just you...

You had previously been searching quietly, checking every building which was unlocked (of which there weren't many; just enough to maintain the illusion even with the lack of visitors to the town this night) and carrying out your searches with curiosity and a need which was climbing quickly from the pit of your stomach, up, up your oesophagus to get lodged in your chest. It had wrapped around your heart and with each empty room and with each Sinclair nowhere to be seen, it constricted and made you feel breathless. You knew not where your Sinclairs were, and it only made your emotional needs all the heavier, the lump in your throat increasingly apparent.

With everywhere checked and none of the Sinclairs found, you resorted to phoning Lester as you stood between the church and the gas station, having completed a full circuit of the town just by following the roads.The twins hadn't been in the house, where you had started the search, so you were well and truly out of options. Where the hell were they? You were beginning to not only miss them with such a strong need to know where they were, if only to know that they were safe and okay and alive, but you were also beginning to worry. Had something happened to them? Lester picked up after the fifth ring. It wasn't terribly late in the evening but you wondered if perhaps you had disturbed him in something somehow.

"Hey, Y/N!"

Oh, his voice... it sounded heavenly to you, especially after the rough day you had had prior to this, and you gripped your phone tighter. You wanted to climb inside Lester's voice, to be safe within him. It was the first bit of company you had had for hours. His voice caused the lump in your throat and the need wrapped around your heart to tighten and you felt the telltale sting of tears in the backs of your eyes and in the back of your nose. You swallowed thickly, "Hi, Lester." You took the phone away from your ear so you could compose yourself, but it was too late. Lester knew you far too well, and he heard your tears in your voice.

"S'matter, sweetpea? Bo bein' mean t'ya again?" Lester's voice hardened somewhat as he realised that something was wrong, but his tone was soft. It was a duality only the Sinclairs could manage, to be cold yet so feeling at the same time.

You huffed a watery laugh, your eyes wet and your tear ducts heavy with that which hadn't fallen yet. "No... at least if Bo was being mean to me, I'd know where he was... I don't know where Vinny is, either. They weren't in the house when I was so I thought they were in the garage and basement respectively, but... they're not there and neither are you and I don't know where you all are and I'm alone and - " Talking to Lester had tipped you over the edge from which you had been clinging to all day. You had woken up not feeling good, and the day's inconveniences on top of your responsibilities, duties and your already bad mood had collectively gotten the best of you. Not having the Sinclairs with you had made everything that much worse - you had only wanted to know where they were because the knowledge of their existences alone comforted you - and a sob ripped from your throat so strongly that your body gave out and you dropped to your knees. Right there, alone in the middle of the dark street, did you begin to cry in earnest, your anguish and distress so loud that it almost drowned out the low, soothing shushing which Lester was doing as he tried to comfort you as best as he could from miles away.

"Y're all right', darlin'. We'll find 'em," Lester was startled by your tears and confused; why had you phoned him and not one of his brothers? But he was also touched to realise that he had been your first thought when you hadn't known what else to do. You needed him as much as you needed his brothers, and it only made Lester love you more than he already did. "S'okay, Y/N, y're okay." He continued to murmur sweet nothings to you, his tone soft. You missed the tinkling of metal on metal as Lester grabbed his truck keys, the noise of boots crunching on gravel. "Did ya' check the sugar mill, darlin'?"

Everything stopped for just a moment as your weary mind raced to catch up. "... The where?"

Lester chuckled quietly, though there was little funny about the situation. You wondered if it was a stress or a panic response, or even just an awkward way to fill the silence, but the thought left your mind as quickly as it occurred to you. You were just too tired to think; the world had pushed you too far today and you just wanted the Sinclairs. "M'brothers keep cars there from folks needin' fan-belts so they c'n strip 'em for parts." There was a muffled thud as Lester shut the truck door with the phone tucked between his ear and his shoulder, but you weren't paying much attention to anything other than Lester's voice, so you barely put the pieces together. He was coming for you.

"Is it in Ambrose?" Hope bloomed in your chest, as did the feeling of having overreacted and feeling silly, but you were in such a bad mood and so needy for the brothers that you barely cared. Bo would probably grumble, but even he couldn't find it in him to turn you down when you were in tears. If you were crying, it was somethin' serious and the brothers would walk through hell just to make you smile again. You would do the same for them in a heartbeat, so close were the three of you.

Lester didn't answer you directly. Truthfully, he wasn't sure if it was in Ambrose or just outside of the town, and he didn't much care, either. He had as little as possible to do with what went on in the family business and that was the way that it was going to stay. You were so much more important to him. "Where y'at, darlin'?"

You sniffled, your tears beginning to slow now, and on shaky legs did you stand. You didn't bother wiping them away, your eyes red-rimmed and sore but the tears continued to crash around you. "M' on the road where the church is. Gas station to my left and pet store just behind me. I checked everywhere but the sugar mill because I didn't even know - " Tears poured hot and heavy down your cheeks, but you were too worn down to do anything about it. You let them fall and your body once more followed until you found yourself on your knees again. You were physically and emotionally exhausted and you wanted the Sinclairs more than anything. You loved Lester, you did, but his voice just wasn't enough.

You needed more.

"Stay right there, sweetpea, don't you move." Lester's tone was reassuring but you knew that there was also a demand. He was a lot like his brothers and he didn't even bother to phrase it as a question. Lester was telling you to stay rooted to the spot, where you had told him you were. You normally did things out of spite, you did things you were told not to do... but when it was an emergency or when one of the brothers adopted a very specific tone - the one Lester had just used on you - it was a code which they had taught you. It told you to not defy them, to listen, and it was the one time, when there were no other options, you would do as you were told. It wasn't used often, only when it had to be, and it only made your worry for the brothers increase because Lester had never used it on you before. The twins had (Vincent's hand gestures had a particular feel, or vibe, to them when he was using it on you), but never Lester. It was times like this that you were forced to remember just how dark all of the brothers were. None of them were gentler than the others; they were all dark, dangerous, but you only loved them more for it. "I gotta hang up, darlin'. Jus' sit tight for me."

"No, Lester, please - "

The dial tone sounded before you could finish your sentence and you bowed your head, the phone tightly held in your grasp. You were so done with the day and your exhausting and emotional upheaval only made it even more so. It was obvious that Lester was on his way to you, for there was no other reason he would have told you to stay put, but what about the twins? Where were they? You looked up and around at the town, naming the 'shops' and places as you did as a way of distracting yourself and giving your mind something to do other than rip itself to shreds. You weren't to move from the spot, but even if Lester hadn't used that tone on you, you weren't sure that you would have moved. You only wanted to be picked up and cradled into someone's chest, so tired were you that you didn't even want to move. Gravel was biting into your skin and the sting of it kept you grounded in the moment, even as you cried all over again. Oh, but today had hurt you so much and you just wanted the world to go away so that you could spend time with the Sinclairs and just forget about everyone and everything except for them.

You didn't know how long you had been sat on the ground talking to Lester, but the sky had darkened from a bruised collection of purples and reds into a pitch black, punctuated only by stars long since dead. It was a quiet, tranquil evening, perfectly juxtaposed by the torment and anguish which had physically brought you to your knees, your shoulders bowed inwards as they shook with the weight of all that had been placed upon them. The Sinclairs were your reprieve from such cruelty in the world, but there was little they could do about the demons within.

Your phone rang and you jumped. A hand flew to your throat as you fumbled to pick up the call, your voice breathless and your need stronger than ever. "Hello?"

"M'sorry I had ta' hang up, sweetpea," You could almost picture Lester's mouth turning downwards as he shook his head, "Had ta' sort sumthin' out." He was being deliberately vague about something and a suspicion pinged in your mind but you didn't say anything about it. The only thing in your mind right now was getting what you wanted - the brothers. You just wanted the Sinclairs and, help you, but it only made you want to cry anew with every passing moment marked only by their absences. "M' comin', darlin', ain't far now."

You could hear his voice in the distance and you could just detect the rapid crunch on gravel and you smiled. You smiled for the first time all day and it made the ache in your chest and in Lester's ease somewhat to hear it in your voice as you said, "I hear you." You cut the call and looked around to see which direction he was coming from - a pointless endeavour because there was only one road which curved into Ambrose, but it kept you occupied for the few seconds it took Lester to stalk up the road to you.

When he spotted you illuminated by the street lights, he quickened his pace until he was almost at a jog and raised a hand by way of greeting. His happy smile dropped like a stone when he took in your tear-stained cheeks, your obviously sore eyes, your body language. "Oh, darlin'," Lester sighed, "That bad, huh?" Oh, but the sound of his voice... you stood on shaky, dead legs (numb were they from a lack of circulation due to your position on the floor) and threw yourself at Lester. He caught you, he caught you, and he held you tightly as his hands rubbed up and down your back in fluid, strong motions. "I got'cha, darlin', s'all righ'." You melted into him and Lester shifted his weight to accommodate you. "Y'seen 'em?"

"No," you sniffled and Lester pulled away to wipe your tears away with calloused, slightly dirty hands. He had washed up in the time since you had seen him last, but his truck was never cleaned and so it always rubbed off on him. "Only you. I checked everywhere apart from the mill. I didn't even think..." The rest of your sentence was drowned out by tyres screeching around a corner, gravel going flying and leaving a dust cloud as a bright yellow vehicle - Vincent's truck - came screaming up the road towards you and Lester. It barely came to a stop before both driver and passenger doors flew open and like a synchronised dance did Bo and Vincent climb out, slamming their doors shut in near perfect harmony - Vincent pausing to make sure Jonesy was secured in the backseat - as they rushed over to you and Lester.

"What the fuck happened, Y/N?" Bo got to you first as he grabbed you and pulled you into his body. Oh, but your tears fell anew for the third or fourth time - you had lost count of how many crying sessions you had had during the shittiest day you had had in a long time - and you clung to Bo, sobbing into his black shirt. He shushed you and you felt Vincent's grip on your waist, his wax mouth rested on the back of your head. You picked up a muffled 'mmf' noise from behind you as it vibrated against your body and your tried and tired mind registered it as a sound of worry and concern. You knew that his eye would be checking you over clinically to make sure that you weren't hurt, but when he ascertained that you were physically all right, his eye turned to Lester, demanding an explanation for your state. None of them had ever seen you this upset, this needy for them, and it was as confusing for them as it was for you. Clearly, this had been building within you for a long time and you had broken, first alone and worried, but now surrounded by love and protected. Safe.

"I - " You couldn't speak, your throat closed up with all the tears left to shed and just as many soaked into Bo's clothes, and Lester's dark eyes met your own, a look on his face so tender that it made your tears fall faster, and he understood what you were asking him to do. You couldn't speak, and you were asking him to do it for you. You trusted him with your words and emotions, you had come to him first so many times this night, and Lester only felt his heart break for you. He longed to take it away from you, to make it all better, but he couldn't, and neither could his brothers. They could only be there for you to help you ride it out, just as you did for the three of them when times called for it.

Vincent made another noise, this time one of impatience, and Bo sighed as he stepped back just enough for Vincent to come in, wrapping his arms around you and holding you tight. You melted into Vincent like the art medium he so favoured, your fingers in his hair (the tips crunchy with wax and the roots greasy, but that was a problem for tomorrow) and your face burrowed in his chest, and Bo stayed at your back, his chin resting on your shoulder with his head turned slightly as his beautiful blues eyed up Lester, still waiting. He would only ever ask once and if you couldn't give him and Vincent what they wanted, awkwardly sandwiched were you between the twins (and, oh, it was right where you had wanted to be ever since you had left the house this evening), then Lester would.

"I ain't never seen 'em like this. Phoned me up cryin' and sayin' they couldn't find ya', and it got worse the more I was speakin' to 'em. Di'nt know what ta' do 'cept come up here and ya' know I phoned ya' up after I finished on the phone with Y/N. Bad day, I s'pose. Real fuckin' bad day." Bo and Vincent both seemed to physically deflate with worry (neither of them had said it, but they had clearly broken more than a few traffic laws to get to you and Lester so their actions spoke louder than verbal words ever could) and they gripped you tighter. You looked up from Vincent's chest, trying to find Lester, and he smiled and stepped forward some more so that his upper arm was brushing against Bo's. "M'here, darlin'. We ain't leavin' ya'."

"Like hell," Bo growled, agreeing with Lester, "Get 'em in the truck, Vincent. An' you," He nodded at his youngest brother. "Goin' up to th' house. Can't stand out here all night." To you, Bo then said, "M'sorry, darlin'. We only stepped out to get some supplies an' I needed Vincent to help me load it up and carry shit in to the house. Didn't mean to scare ya'." Within that last sentence did you hear a promise to not do that to you again, to leave a note for you next time so that you didn't have to worry. They were more than capable of looking after themselves, you knew it well, but one stray bullet, one flick of a blade, and they could be lost to you forever. It was enough to make you want to cry even when you were in a good mood, this the brothers knew well. They worried for you as much as you worried for them, such was the immeasurable depths of emotion between the four of you.

Bo's apology made you freeze but you swiped a hand over your face. "No, I'm sorry, it's... been a horrible day and I've just had enough." You wanted to ask if they had gotten everything they need, but you knew that there was nothing in the world to stop the twins when they wanted something, truly so ruthless were they. They would have hurried through their supply run, but they wouldn't have stopped. You gestured vaguely towards the truck and went to walk off, but Vincent's grip became reminiscent of a boa constrictor and he shook his head at you. You understood and stayed still so that he could scoop you up effortlessly. He brought you into his chest and you wrapped your arms around his neck as he nuzzled his masked face into the side of your head as he carried you to the truck. Bo got into the driver's side and Lester climbed into the passenger seat, which meant that you and Vincent could sit quite comfortably tangled up together in the backseat.

It was a short journey, with the house only being two blocks away, but between Bo and Lester talking in the front seats, Vincent's lap being your wax throne upon, your general exhaustion, Jonesy's head under your hands as you found comfort in her soft fur and the safety and protection which had descended upon you like a thick, warm blanket with the arrival of the twins, you were quickly lulled to your threshold consciousness. You wanted to curl up on the sofa with your family and watch some crappy television and just forget the world and now, after a day in which everything could have gone wrong did go wrong, that was exactly what you were going to get.

When the truck pulled to a slow stop, you reluctantly slid off Vincent's lap, your back and lower body cold with the ghost of his touch (and how you ached to get back to where you wanted to be) and helped Bo to get everything in; between the four of you, the supplies were quickly off loaded and put away. You were jittery now, on edge and getting ready for bed was a process you rushed just so you could get what you wanted faster. Despite your anticipation, your body felt heavy and sluggish, but you were too tired to cry anymore and everything hurt. Bo had everything ready for you when you finally joined the brothers downstairs; there were beers on the table if you wanted to imbibe, snacks scattered around as if Bo had just grabbed them from the cupboards and thrown them over his shoulder into the living room (he had), blankets in a neat pile on one of the sofa arms, and all three brothers sat on the sofa, so closely that their shoulders were touching and Jonesy spread down at their feet.

You lowered yourself down onto the sofa with them, with your head in Bo's lap and your body stretched across Vincent's and Lester's, too, and your body took a naturally deep, deep breath. Finally, finally, you were home. You were all home, safe and sound and protected, and that was all that mattered. You had broken alone, but you would be supported and surrounded with love until you felt better. But even when you did, the Sinclairs would be there. They would always be, for Ambrose was your home and so were they.

None of you were goin' nowhere, and that was just how you all wanted it.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Initiative - aka NMJ and JYL get engaged - ao3 or tumblr pt 1, pt 2

Jiang Yanli’s first engagement had been announced when she was three and a half years old – there had been a big party, festooned in color, exquisitely and meticulously planned out in advance, and she’d been obliged to stand on stage next to a baby in a cradle that had done nothing but cry and spit as all the adults around her congregated and congratulated each other on the excellent match.

She hadn’t enjoyed that at all.

Her second wedding announcement was simultaneously more casual and more noteworthy, and she enjoyed it tremendously. 

Madame Jin had sent several invitations to Jiang Yanli to come visit Lanling in advance of the hunt planned for Phoenix Mountain, speaking of how beautiful it was and how much she looked forward to seeing her good friend’s daughter – talking about she’d always regretted how Jiang Yanli had been obligated by circumstances to take shelter at the Unclean Realm rather than in Lanling City, although she’d been pleased to hear from her son that she was doing well – all the right sort of words. The words might have been more welcome if Jiang Yanli hadn’t known that Madame Jin was still intent on securing the marriage she had arranged.

If she hadn’t been engaged, she would have accepted the invitation, hoping to form an alliance for her sect through a close relationship with Madame Jin even if she didn’t have one with Jin Zixuan (no matter what Madame Jin hoped), but as she was, in fact, engaged to another – even if it hadn’t been formally announced – it would be inappropriate to go. So she instead played ignorant and responded graciously, protesting that she couldn’t possibly impose, that the rebuilding at the Lotus Pier needed her, but that she would of course be happy to attend the hunt alongside the rest of her sect.

She arrived at her brother’s side, smiling all the while.

Her second engagement was announced like this: Sect Leader Jin, using his newly legitimized son as his mouthpiece, had brought forward some ghastly ‘entertainment’ that involved shooting at helpless prisoners, tied up in chains. Jin Zixuan had complied, but Wei Wuxian had marched out and disrupted everything by showing off to a ridiculous extent – Nie Mingjue, who had been watching with a black face full of rage but unable to speak due to propriety, had started applauding very loudly and very enthusiastically – and Sect Leader Jin had ordered the prisoners taken away.

“Well, then,” he said, clapping as if he had impressed himself: as if they hadn’t just been subjected to a powerplay under the guise of hospitality, as if everyone would be over-awed by his might now that they had seen him abuse the helpless while they were all forced by the rules of etiquette to say nothing or else risk carrying the blame for trying to start another war. “Absent anything else, we should proceed to the hunt itself, where await you only the finest of prey and the sharpest competition among your peers.”

For the further display of the power of the Jin sect, he meant.

“Actually,” Nie Mingjue said, interjecting in a moment in which Sect Leader Jin had paused to take a breath so that it was technically not an interruption, “there is one thing. A request, in fact.”

Sect Leader Jin’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he maintained his false smile. “Of course, Sect Leader Nie. What can I do for you?”

“I’m getting married,” Nie Mingjue said. “The bride is Young Mistress Jiang, of Yunmeng Jiang, and I would like –” He raised his voice to overcome the abrupt explosion of talk that had erupted. “– I would like to have her accompany my sect in today’s hunt. I hope that doesn’t interfere with your plans for a competition between the sects?”

There were those who said that Jiang Yanli’s chosen husband was bad at politics, and they might even be right. But it didn’t really matter in the end if he’d thought of the idea on a whim or if it’d been a prearranged plan by Nie Huaisang, who was cleverer than he liked to let on to people, Jiang Yanli’s future husband had still wiped away in a single sentence all memory of the farce they’d all just endured and of the hunt that was yet to come, ensuring that the only thing anyone would remember about today was the shocking news of the engagement of the leader of one Great Sect to the sister of another.

(And if everyone remembered that at the last celebration hosted by Sect Leader Jin, he had proposed to resurrect the marriage between Jiang Yanli and his own son, instead, forcing her to publicly demur on vague terms…well, that just made it all the more satisfying.)

Now it was Sect Leader Jin’s turn to scowl and glare, and Madame Jin’s expression looked no less thunderous, but in the end Jiang Yanli got to go with the Nie sect on the hunt.

“You know I’ll only slow you down,” she said to Nie Mingjue, who snorted.

“No more than Huaisang will,” he said, and if his face was stern and his voice gruff then she still thought she detected fondness and humor beneath it. “Besides, it’ll be a good opportunity to measure you.”

It turned out that he meant that more literally than she might have thought.

Jiang Yanli was promptly whisked away to the back of the Nie retinue by a small cadre of Nie disciples, men and women both. She was presented with a number of training sabers shaped out of wood and made to hold them in a variety of positions as they murmured things about stability and reach and balance as if they really, truly thought that she would actually use the saber they were preparing for her.

“This one,” Nie Jiahui, a steely older woman with silver in her hair and fierce eyes, eventually announced, and the practice saber Jiang Yanli had been waving around was taken away. She was then presented with one that was twice as heavy, for “practice”.

“Do you always practice with something heavier than the actual thing?” she asked, and Nie Jiahui nodded.

“Strengthens the shoulders,” she said, curt but not standoffish. “Have some candy.”

Jiang Yanli blinked, but smiled and accepted the offer. It was licorice, which she liked.

“Do you often carry candy with you on night-hunts?” she asked, listening to the sound of fighting from up ahead. Every so often, a disciple or two would trot by carrying the corpses of larger and larger creatures, slain in the fighting; it seemed that the Nie sect was not, in fact, being slowed down in the slightest by her presence.

Of course, she also wasn’t being tended to as if she were their chosen lady, either, as she might have otherwise expected – all pomp and flowery language, Nie Mingjue by her side at all times to show her around as if they were on a pleasure stroll – but in all honesty that would have been a little bewildering. It was very much not the Nie sect’s character, all practical and straightforward, and she found that she preferred it that way.

“It’s important to have something to replenish energy,” Nie Huaisang said, having dropped back to join them from the front. He looked tired and grumpy, but his saber appeared to have been put to some work; he immediately climbed up into the carriage that people were taking turns riding and started cleaning it. “And licorice candy clears the lungs.”

“Clears the lungs?” Jiang Yanli asked.

“It’s good for more than that,” Nie Jiahui said. “But that’s one of the uses, yes. Do you ever feel like your chest is too tight, especially when you move too much? Leading to coughing, shortness of breath, your lips turning blue?”

Jiang Yanli blinked. “Yes,” she said. “But that’s just because I was born with a weak body.”

Nie Jiahui scoffed and Nie Huaisang laughed. “Good luck with that,” he said cheerfully. “I was born with muscles that didn’t keep their tone: too flexible, incapable of gathering strength, requiring more energy to do less, making me twice as tired twice as fast – even sitting up straight can be a struggle in some extreme cases, though luckily not mine. And do you think that helped me one bit in getting out of saber training? It did not.”

“Early childhood intervention is best,” Nie Jiahui said. “But the next best is starting today. I’ll show you some low-impact exercises that you can start working on to strengthen your shoulders and stomach, as well as some balance movements to center yourself and improve your posture – that way, by the time your actual saber is ready, you’ll be able to take it through one of the basic routines.”

“I’m happy to learn whatever you have to teach,” Jiang Yanli said, ignoring Nie Huaisang’s dramatic cry of ‘And here I thought you’d be on my side!’ “I only regret troubling you.”

“Not at all,” Nie Jiahui said. “It’ll be good to have someone watching the Sect Leader’s back on night-hunts.”

Jiang Yanli felt a surge of terror and excitement in her belly. “He would trust me with that? You would trust me with that?”

“I did tell you that you’d need to keep up with him,” Nie Huaisang said mildly, and it was true, he had, only she’d assumed it was a bit more metaphorical. “You don’t have to fight or even walk too much, if it doesn’t suit you – my grandmother was lame in both her legs from a childhood illness, she rode everywhere, scariest woman I’ve ever met by far – but you do have to be there. Someone needs to be able to tell my brother to stop. Someone he’ll listen to.”

And wasn’t that something of a thrill to think of?

Jiang Yanli wasn’t someone anyone listened to – not her parents, not her brother, not her sect disciples. She’d always been the one who comforted them afterwards, who supported them; she made them food and tried to convince them to be kinder to each other, and sometimes they even tried for a while before getting into another tiff. They would kill for her if she so much as hinted at it, tear down the sky for her, but it was more in the nature of indulging her rather than actually allowing them to guide her.

Yet here was Chifeng-zun, a war hero and a sect leader, one of the most powerful men in the world, a man admired by men and sought after (even if only in their hearts) by women, and his family was telling her that he would listen to her.

“If you say so,” she demurred, but they insisted, and by the time the hunt was over Jiang Yanli was surprised to realize that she hadn’t needed to resort to sitting on the carriage more than twice the entire time.

“We’ll send Auntie Jiahui to the Lotus Pier after today’s hunt is done,” Nie Huaisang chattered cheerfully in her ear as they headed back towards Jinlin Tower. “She’ll work you through your paces, believe you me, and all the supplemental things, too – making sure you eat the right thing, take medicinal baths to improve your meridians, apply massages to loosen your joints…those parts are nice, actually. Take care of your body as you would your saber, take care of your saber as you would your wife! That’s how the saying goes. Trust me, you’ll be regretting the whole thing soon enough.”

Jiang Yanli didn’t think she would. “You seem very confident that A-Cheng will allow you to do as you please, even in the Lotus Pier.”

“I’ll tell him it concerns secret Nie sect marriage rituals,” Nie Jiahui interjected. “When two women are involved, men tend to run away when the words ‘marriage’ and ‘secret’ are combined.”

Sadly, she was probably right.

“Show me those exercises again,” she requested, and Nie Jiahui climbed up on to the carriage to show her the ones she could do even while sitting down.

Jiang Yanli might never have had the opportunity to strengthen herself before, and she was moderately certain that she wouldn’t have too much success now, as the various tricks Nie Jiahui had taught her were largely body refinement, barely reliant on qi, and her cultivation was still as low as ever.

But she was good at devoting herself to learning something when she wanted to, and as soon the hunt at Phoenix Mountain was over and they had shifted over to the various feasts and meetings that Lanling Jin had planned for the rest of the week, she began her efforts at self-improvement in earnest.

The weak body her mother had always despaired of might always be weak – Nie Jiahui had been quite blunt on that subject, making it clear that nothing she was suggesting was some sort of miracle pill, and furthermore that there was nothing wrong with being weak as long as she made an effort (Nie Huaisang had been the recipient of several pointed looks there) – but Jiang Yanli was determined to at least demonstrate that she was trying.

A gesture of good faith, perhaps. Some small show of initiative.

Nie Huaisang had said that Nie Mingjue appreciated her initiative.

“A-Xian,” she called one morning, only a few days later. “A-Xian, are you going out for a walk? Let me come with you.”

“You’ve gone on a lot of walks recently,” Wei Wuxian laughed, but allowed her to take his arm as they walked into the crowd. “Do you like Lanling City so much?”

“It’s the exercise I’m after,” she said, smiling at him. “The Nie sect is a martial sect, remember? I’ll be going on more night-hunts in the future, if all goes well, and I’ll need to keep up.”

“Oh, but surely they’ll bring a carriage..? I don’t know if you really need to go on night-hunts –”

“I want to! It’ll be nice. Don’t worry about me so much, A-Xian –”

Wei Wuxian was shaking his head, smiling, and he wasn’t looking where he was going; perhaps that was why he bumped into the young woman.

But then she looked up at him, and he looked down at her, and he froze.

“Wen Qing?”

[parvulous-writings]

Not so Wyld morning // Bill S Preston + Ted Logan x M!Reader

Request:     can you write a fluff oneshot with bill (s preston) x ted logan x m! reader with like. a sleepy morning between the three?

Requested by: @mlmpunisher​

Summary: Starts off as the request, and then goes off on a trip to the Circle K. I may or may not have gotten carried away. 

Warnings: a brief joke about kidnapping/death.

Words: 3.5K

Notes:  I’ve been waiting for an idea/request for these two. They’re my comfort idiots. My love for them... Let’s just say I watch the movies a fair amount, eh? My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist! Original character list - please request for these too!

Not my gif 

You, Bill and Ted were spread rather haphazardly over Bill’s bed. Legs crossed over one another, hands on chests or in faces. You were all tangled together, not that any of you really cared about that at that moment.  You had all fallen asleep during a study session- you had been desperately trying to tutor your boyfriends Bill and Ted, so that they didn’t fail their history class and completely flunk out of school- mostly because Ted’s father, Captain Logan, was threatening to send the taller boy away to an Alaskan military school to whip him into shape should he fail the semester. That was now an all too real threat to the three of you, none of you wanted to get pulled apart from one another. You had been trying to quiz them on the philosophies of the great Athenian thinker Socrates (whom both young men insisted on pronouncing So-Crates no matter how many times you corrected them) when you passed out one by one. First Ted- who was up against the headboard, and whose head had slumped forward when you had gotten onto the fifth or sixth question. Then Bill, draped over Ted’s legs, after leaning back to protest about how the quiz was starting to become “A total drag,” around the tenth question. He had promptly passed out whilst you were telling him it was for their own good- you weren’t all that surprised when you were interrupted by a rather loud snore coming from the curly-haired Bill.You hadn’t bothered to try and wake either of them- not only would they both be rather irritable if you woke them up too early, but it was nearly one o’clock in the morning at that point, so you figured that perhaps they were both subconsciously onto something.  You had taken the range and array of textbooks off of the bed, creating a little more space for you to somehow work yourself between them and get more comfortable to get some sleep of your own. After some shuffling, and a few murmurs from both Bill and Ted, you had found the perfect position, where you had promptly fallen asleep with them.

You were the first to wake up. Ted had taken your arm in both of his in your sleep, cuddling it as if it were a teddy bear. Bill’s legs had somehow tangled with yours, and he had ended up nuzzled into the side of your chest, not that you minded all that much. Though Ted was the more affectionate of your boyfriends in public, Bill could be just as affectionate as him in private. You tried not to move at first, not wanting to disturb them- they could both be as bad as each other when it came to being woken up too early (too early was counted as anything before they woke up by themselves). So, for what you had gauged to be about twenty minutes or so, you just laid there, staring up at the ceiling. There were no thoughts of any importance that drifted through your mind at this point, not until you had finally grown restless enough to carefully push yourself up onto one elbow to check the time on Bill’s alarm clock- which he rarely actually used as anything more than just a normal clock. It had just gone half past ten, and you felt your eyes go wide- that was much later than you had anticipated. Thankfully it was a weekend, though briefly your brain had tricked itself into thinking it was mid-week, causing even more of a jolt in your chest. You would have to get up soon to make your way back home; it was bad enough that you had spent the night out without letting your parents know that you’d be out past eleven o’clock. Every moment past nine in the morning that you spent away from them, the angrier they would get with you.  With this thought in mind you tried to push yourself up a little bit more, fully prepared to undertake the rather massive task of trying to begrudgingly untangle yourself from the two men you held dear, but you were quickly brought back down again by an unseen hand. Your head landed on Ted’s stomach, and you glanced over to him, seeing him peering back at you through tired eyes and a rather messy head of hair. He gave you a rather dopey smile, and you realised he was the one to pull you back; mostly prompted by the fact that Bill was giving another round of freight-train like snores. Ted’s head fell back again when you didn’t struggle against his protests of getting out of bed, and he gave a yawn before beginning to speak. “Morning, chief.” He mumbled, voice still raspy with the last dregs of sleep his body was trying to cling onto.  “I don’t get why you call me that.” You replied in a whisper, trying not to wake Bill. “Surely I should be the one calling you that- given your dad’s job and everything...”  “Eh,” Was Ted’s simple reply, accompanied with a rather lazy shrug. It was about a minute before the only other boy awake in the room started to speak again. “I mean, it does kind of suit you, doesn’t it? You keep me and Bill in order...” He prompted, glancing over to you with that same goofy smile, before his gaze moved back to the ceiling.  “For the most part, I guess.” You smiled back at him, taking his hand and draping his arm across you, so you could play absently with his fingers. Ted never minded that. 

The pair of you fell into a comfortable silence, which was disturbed only briefly, and rather inconsistently, by Bill’s snores. You weren’t sure how long you laid there for this time, but the rather delightful monotonous repetition was ultimately interrupted by a quiet groan of protest from the blonde haired boy at the end of the bed. He rolled onto his front, trying to cover his eyes- he had fallen asleep rather inconveniently where the light peaked through the blinds in the early morning. “Someone close the blinds,” He complained, trying to turn away from them but ultimately failing.  “Bill...” You chuckled lightly, nudging him to get his attention. “They are closed. The light is coming through the gap.” Your words were only met with a groan from Bill, and a stifled laugh from Ted.  “You should get it fixed, dude.” The taller boy jested, nudging the boy again, and Bill responded with a half-hearted swipe at Ted’s foot.  “Shut up, Ted.” Of course, he didn’t mean this in an inherently horrid way, despite his gruff tone. He loved both you and Ted deeply, more than he could love anything else- or at least that was what he thought. Ted thought very much the same thing- though that was no surprise. More often than not, it was like the two shared the exact same brain. If they were not thinking of the exact same plan down to the detail when it came to schemes, they were at the very least agreed on the end result. Most of the time this wasn’t too much of a problem for you- usually you were at the butt end of whatever shenanigan they were plotting- but there were times when you did get a little bit overwhelmed by the pair of them. More often than not, the times where you got overwhelmed involved a very particular phone-booth, with some rather unique properties. Unless you were in it’s presence you tried not to think about it- the amount of times you had been put through mind-bending situations already made your head spin to even consider again. They’d predict something, it would happen immediately after said prediction, then they would turn to one another and proclaim a quick “Excellent!” before reminding one another that they would need to remember that later. You were still a little bit confused by it- especially when they sprung something random on you-but you thought you were slowly starting to understand, even though the concept of time travel didn’t seem quite real. 

You broke your train of thought upon feeling a sudden weight on your chest. Though you wanted to crane your neck to see who it was, you didn’t really need to, you knew it was Bill. You did it anyway- your eyes being met with the golden curls of Bill’s hair. “Bill, love, I’m going to have to get up soon.” You warned him, as your movement would definitely affect him more than Ted.  “No.” He replied simply. From his tone, you could tell he didn’t overly want to debate it.  “But I stayed over without letting my parents-”  “You’re fine, you’re safe, what do they have to complain about?” He grumbled, shuffling so that his chin was on your stomach, his arms wrapped around your middle. His deep green eyes met yours, before flitting briefly to Ted, giving you both a smile. “C’mon, dude. It won’t hurt to have a little longer with us, right?” He asked, and you moved your hand to quickly brush a stray curl from his brow.  “Maybe he should go soon- like, just to check in.” Ted piped up, ever in your corner. “Cause you know what happens if he gets in trouble. He won’t get to see us for like... A week. That is most heinous, and you know it.” At this rather right line of reasoning, Bill groaned, burying his face into the fabric of your shirt.  “Shut up, Ted.” This was quite muffled, and of course still not completely serious. You laughed softly, “Okay- what about this? One hour. Like this.Then, we can ask Missy to drive us back to my place, and I can let my parents know I’m fine, and you two haven’t like... Murdered me, or something.” You joked, and you can feel Ted nod enthusiastically underneath you.  “Yeah, that’s a good idea!” He agreed, and you could hear the smile that was in no doubt plastered onto his face. “Then we can all head down to the Circle K afterwards, right?”  “Sure we can, Ted.” You agreed, reaching up behind you to clumsily pat his cheek.  “Only if he isn’t in trouble, remember?” Bill pitched in, shuffling to get comfortable again. “What about half an hour? If we want to head to Circle K, obviously.” You all consider this new plan for a moment, before each of you gave a curt nod, in unison. 

So there you all stayed- you nearly even fell asleep again before you felt Bill roll off of you. He then took your arm and helped you up, and Ted quickly rolled off of the bed to grab his sneakers. Bill chucked yours at you, before going to get his shoes as well. Ted was the first downstairs- “Hey, Missy?” He called out, and he was quickly met with the young woman’s reply.  “Yeah? What’s up, Ted?” She asked, giving a warm smile.  “We were hoping that you could drive us to (Y/N)’s house?” He asked, briefly wringing his hands, as he eagerly awaited her response.  “Sure thing!” She nodded cheerily, “Let me just finish making these drinks, and I’ll be right with you. You guys go out to the car.” She nodded over to the door leading to the garage. As you and Bill started down the stairs, Ted eagerly gestured for you both to follow him.  It didn’t take Missy very long to finish making the drinks she was preparing, and you all piled into the car. “So- did you all sleep well?” The blonde woman asked, glancing back at you and Bill in the back of the car- Ted had a fascination with sitting in the front seat. Ted and Bill nodded individually; you were the one to verbally reply.  “Yeah, I think we all got a fairly good night sleep.” You give an almost awkward smile. Though, at one point, both of your boyfriends had had some form of crush on her- despite her being quite a few years older than all of you- you hadn’t entirely understood why. You never really mentioned it though.  “Good to hear,” She replied, still wearing that joyful smile. “Hey, Bill- you might need to use the spare key today, the one behind the plant, if you’re staying out late with the boys.” She took a turning as she spoke, keeping her eyes on the road. “Me and your dad are going out for dinner tonight.”  “Okay, Missy- I mean, mom.” Bill replied, quickly correcting himself on his mistake. “Just stop on the corner here,” He told her, gesturing to the side of the road a five minute walk from your house.  “Are you sure?” She asked, glancing over her shoulder as she spoke. “I can take you all the way, if you-”  “No, it’s alright, thanks, Missy.” You interrupt quickly, leaning forward. “Here is fine.” She shrugged, but begrudgingly pulled over. 

“Thanks, Missy!” Ted called after the now fleeting car, giving a wave as well, before jogging to catch up with you and Bill, who had already started to cross the road to get to your street. “I’ll quickly grab some money whilst we’re there,” You told the pair of them, and they nodded.  “I was thinking we could get some slushies.” Ted suggested, giving a wide smile.  “Blue and red?” Bill added, giving a smile of his own, and Ted nodded energetically.  “Our tongues’ll end up as purple, you two know that, right?” You teased with a grin, glancing over your shoulder as Bill laughed heartily. It took Ted a moment longer to get the joke, but he started laughing even harder than Bill when it clicked with him.  “Oh well,” Bill shrugged, a rather mischievous smile. You fell into silence again as you jogged up your driveway, almost wrenching open the door and calling out a hasty “Hey!” to announce your presence to the household and those within it. You quickly made your way to your room, as Bill and Ted quietly entered your home after you, choosing to stay in the hallway- even though they had visited and stayed over at your house many times before. They were both silently hoping that they were making their will to leave relatively soon clear. Your father came into the living room, glancing to the two boys standing awkwardly in the hallway. “Bill, Ted.” He greeted, calmly. Bill mouthed a silent ‘Hi’, whilst Ted just waved. Neither of them wanted to anger your parents- Ted, because he knew how authority figures could be, he’d had experience with his own father, and Bill just didn’t want you to be punished and kept away from them. You came back through as quickly as you could, palming some of your loose change in your hand, making sure you would have enough for a slushie for yourself, and for your boyfriends if they hadn’t brought any money with them- which was more than likely.  “Going out again?” Your father asked you, wanting to make some sort of conversation. You nodded, glancing to him and giving a smile.  “Yeah, heading out to Circle K with Bill and Ted.” You told him. He was a lot more relaxed with the rules than your mother- whom you currently assumed to be out for lunch with one of her friends.  “Did your study session go well, then?”  “Yeah- we went over Socrates again. We all passed out- that’s why I didn’t come home or call last night.” Your father laughed gently, he understood.  “I figured as much. Your mother was saying that you could have been kidnapped- but I kept saying you’re a smart kid, you’d know what to do if that were a risk. Plus, I don’t think there’s anyone in San Dimas who would want to kidnap you.”  “Even if they did want to steal him away, we’d take whoever it is on,” Bill stated, confidently- nudging Ted.  “Yeah, we would!” The taller boy confirmed with a nod. You giggled and shook your head at the pair. Even your father chuckled gently at them.  “Good to know my son is in safe hands.” Though your father was aware that these two weren’t the sharpest tools in the shed of San Dimas, he wasn’t about to take away some of your only company. Your mother had brought it up to him before, but he usually elected to ignore the comments. “Anyway- get going, before your mother gets back. If she sees you going off with these to again without checking in properly she’ll have a fit.” He gestured to the door, “Just be back by eleven tonight, alright?”  “We’ll have him back by then!” Ted told him, opening the door and striding out, followed closely by Bill, and then you. Your father gave a wave, before heading back into your family home. 

There were few words on the journey to the local orange ringed store, you only started to speak again when you had each purchased your chosen flavour of slushie. Bill with strawberry, Ted with blue raspberry, and you with another blue raspberry. You all took a seat on the curb, and you decided to fill the silence with one of the first thoughts that came to your head mid-sip. “So, are you two ready for the end-of-semester presentation Mr Ryan is going to assign?” You asked, and both of your boyfriends looked rather shocked. “What? He’s done it with every other year-group, and we’re not exactly different, specification wise....” You pointed out, and Ted groaned.  “I suck at presentations.” He complained, “Plus neither of us can remember anything that Mr Ryan has taught us!” He exclaimed, gesturing rather wildly with his slushie. “I mean, even with your help, dude, I don’t think we’re going to do all that well.” You were about to speak, but Bill was the one to step in first.  “We gotta try, man,” He placed an affectionate hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder, “If we don’t, it’s even more likely that you’re going to be sent off to that heinous school in Alaska.” Ted considered this, then nodded. Bill was right.  “I’ll do everything I can to help my boys remember all they can,” You told them, a fond smile on your face which they quickly returned. They loved being referred to as your boys, they couldn’t even deny it- you could see it in their eyes. Bill leant over and pressed a very brief kiss to your cheek- though not before checking the parking lot was clear, empty of onlookers- and Ted reached across Bill’s legs to grab your hand, squeezing your palm to show some affection; you were too far away for a kiss from him, and he didn’t overly want to get up whilst his slushie was still rather full. He took a sip from the plastic straw in his beverage, before clearing his throat. “So..” He began, starting to grin wider than usual. “Who wants to make purple?” He nudged Bill, who then quickly looked to you, wearing the same grin as your other boyfriend. You started to laugh- of course this had been something that neither of them had forgotten. 

Without another word exchanged between you, you leant to close the gap between you and Bill, letting lips and tongue tangle in a passionate display of affection. Ted stared on adoringly, not overly minding that Bill was the first to get your attention and affection- though now he had finished off the majority of his drink he scuttled round to your other side, carefully taking your jaw in his hand when you eventually pulled away from Bill to catch your breath. Your break didn’t last for too long, since Ted pulled you gently so your already kiss swollen lips met his equally soft ones. Bill couldn’t help the warm and love-filled smile that spread over his face, before he just had to press a kiss to your cheek, and then reach over to Ted’s cheek to make sure he wasn’t left out. You all separated after a minute or so, and you wiped your lip carefully, wearing the same wide and almost goofy smile as the other two. Your lips, and tongue, as predicted, had turned a rather strange shade of purple.  “I think we should get another snack,” Ted suggested, “Cause I’m hungry, and then we can get the colour off of our tongues,” He grinned, and Bill considered the preposition.  “I guess some food wouldn’t hurt...” He agreed, “Marshmallows?” He suggested, which was replied to with a nod from both you and Ted. “I’ll get them then,” Bill smiled at you both, searching his pocket for some spare change as he got to his feet; marshmallows were a fair bit cheaper than slushies, and he could afford them with what he had to hand. Whilst he went back into the Circle K, you shuffled closer to Ted, smiling lightly as he drew you closer with an arm around your shoulder. That morning had certainly been most excellent, as most of the time with your boyfriends always was- it was something that you always looked forward to; spending time with them, making memories that would forever make you smile. 

[bakerstreethound]

Single Dad Corinthian - New Beginnings | Chapter 2: Simple Joys (Repost)

Chapter 1: A Walk in the Park

Relationship: Single Father!Corinthian x OC Aspen Reeves

Warnings: brief mention of losing a child, absent parents, flirty Corinthian, pining, sensual undertones, mentions of past abusive relationship for Aspen, and supportive Corinthian

Summary: A week after Aspen meets the mysterious Corinthian and his son Levi at the park, they take a chance and start talking to Corinthian. Soon enough a kinship and something more unfolds. How will it go and can Aspen tread through the waters of flirting all while tending to some still fresh wounds of loss from their younger years? How will they possibly get through a first date? Corinthian has his doubts and he finds himself falling for Aspen, been if he's not actively trying. How can he not? What happens if Aspen sees him for who he truly is? A monster on the inside and out?

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT claim, copy, repost, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)

Word Count: 4.4k+

A/N: It has been months, but I am so excited to present chapter 2 of this little snapshot mosaic series of single dad Corinthian and my OC Aspen Reeves. Both of them deserve a hug and Levi is adorable. Many thanks to @novaracer for beta reading and cheering me on as I wrote. I hope you enjoy! Graphic by @firefly-graphics Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

It had been a week since your run-in with the man who called himself Corinthian, but you shortened his name to Cori in your contacts (you would be lying if it didn’t make you smile). The park meeting had been one of the most unexpected adventures in your life the past year. 

You fiddled with the card he left you on the bench that fateful afternoon and it pestered you for days until you gave in and said hello. You felt so stupid reaching out. Would he think you were a creep? A lonely creep was not much harm unless you became a stalker. You blanched at the thought. 

When you did text him, you realized the appointments you had to keep and he had the same, with his work and needing to take care of Levi. You did not mind waiting, but you found yourself looking forward to life, looking forward to seeing him and Levi sometime. If a week had to pass for the outcome to be that way, you would take it.

Having someone to talk to was nice and you were eager each time you heard the ping of your phone, instead of the dreaded pit of worry and anxiety that accompanied them. 

Ever since your child Sam had been admitted to the hospital two years prior in the months before his passing, the messages, texts, and emails had caused nothing but sickness and heartbreak for you and your partner.

You cringed at the thought of your partner Kai, who had all but abandoned you, leaving Sam’s care and bills up to you. You loved your child, you did, you missed going to the parks, and taking him to school. You often wondered what he would have become if he decided to go to college or learn a trade. 

You wondered a lot of things, then, but now you grasped at the possibility of wanting to be with someone new, at least entertaining the company. Your heart was not perfectly mended, albeit bruised after the divorce, but it did not matter in the slightest. You had left the apartment and donated a majority of Kai and Sam’s things except for the minimal keepsakes.

Your new place faired better for you with large windows to filter in the sun and wash your darkness away on those days when it felt nigh impossible to get out of bed, bundled in copious amounts of blankets. 

Regardless, you found solace these days between texting Corinthian through errands and hobbies like cooking, writing, and your art. The easel in your studio apartment held a blank canvas, and your cart was full of acrylics and watercolors stashed away in your art box.

Looking at them brought up memories of Kai and Sam, making your heart twinge. The passion, though, that did not fade, but your irrationality had overridden it. That was months ago, but you felt ready enough for it, but it would wait for another day. 

Your phone pings, the smile crossing your face of its own accord. 

Found this new shiny beauty at the pawn shop today, though it is not as bright as your smile. He sends accompanied by the attachment of a shiny knife. Though dull, it’ll be quite the beauty when sharpened and polished.  

I don’t have many reasons to smile, you know. 

Well, perhaps I might have to be one of them. 

You roll your eyes . Perhaps you might. I have been debating trying that new pizza shop down the street. Have you had it, yet? You breathe a sigh of relief, having dodged the flirt. You are still new to it all.

Oh, darling, I have not had enough of you. But I would like more

Is that so?

I’d kill to see that smile again, the one you flashed to Levi in the park before we officially met.

Your heart thumps faster as you send another text. Would you now?

Only if you asked nicely. 

What, do I have to be nice about it?

There are ways I could make you behave if you prefer. 

You pause. Are you certain about that? I might bite.

I like it when they bite (: 

******

The remaining weeks fly by at a steady pace, much of your interactions with Corinthian brief and flirty, with debates about the best restaurants in between. You bickered about the best brick oven pizza, thin or stuffed crust, iced or hot coffee and tea, and the most random nonsense.

You voted for the regular homestyle crust while he vies for the thin crust when it comes to a Margherita pizza. Regular crust he likes for pepperoni or meat lovers, you find out. 

This easy back and forth becomes the normal and your darker more dreary days turn brighter with the chime of a text and call. Those sounds that once spelled doom now ring with a brighter tune. 

The tune of hope. 

You do not want it to disappear but approach it with caution.

That is the day he asks you out on a date, your first official date together. You remember the confidence he exuded on the phone. 

“Aspen, darling, he drawled. “Would you like to join me on a picnic at the park? It would be me and you only, under that nice shade tree.” 

Your name on his lips sounded utterly delightful and you did not hesitate to tell him yes. 

******

You have not made a trip to the park in some time, but the memories of meeting Levi instantly hit you on the stroll over. The clouds in the sky accentuate the sun and you feel a warmth spread inside you.

Yes, you can be happy and not dread every moment of your existence wondering if you were an awful parent, if you could have done more to save Sam, could have given Kai a reason to stay.  

You shake those thoughts from your mind. Shush, Aspen. You’re here to meet Corinthian on your first date.  

First date. 

The word feels foreign on your tongue and in your mind. You barely remember your first date with Kai, but it was likely a rushed one at a cheap ramen bar, the only thing starving artist college kids could afford.

The rest of your relationship flew by in a blur and suddenly Sam was born, your pride and joy, then he vanished too soon. Five years was not long, a life cut too soon. Such is the unfairness of the world. 

Yet, the world in all its cruelty has given you a new gift, a fresh start, hope. Hope you scarcely allow yourself to feel anymore, 

It’s the feeling that flutters in your chest when you recognize him there under the old oak tree, one you admire countless times from your park bench picnics, a sandwich in hand, your satchel next to you, filled with your wallet, books, and other essentials. 

He looks impossibly heartbreaking and more devastatingly gorgeous than you remember. When you first met him, he wore white suit pants and a simple T-shirt.

Now, he is dressed in navy blue slacks, a pale blue shirt, with a simple gray sweater over it, the collar edges peaking out from it. His signature sunglasses sat perched on the bridge of his nose. His brow rose in greeting. 

Shit, you have been staring too long, more like gawking and you snapped your jaw tighter, determined not to let him get to you. 

You can do this. 

It’s a picnic another normal day. 

Who are you kidding? This is more than you could fathom or deserve. 

“Hello, darling,” He rumbles, the breeze softly swirling around you. A few leaves tumbled around you, crunching beneath your sneakers as you met him, standing fully in front of him, appreciating the view a while longer. 

He reaches for your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before leading you to a place beneath the tree. 

You gasp, a giggle bursting from your lips. “You didn’t Cori.” 

He smiles. “Of course I did. It is all for you.” 

Before you are a simple picnic blanket, a simple wicker basket filled to the brim with drinks, snacks, and an assortment of fruit. In addition, there is a charcuterie board of cheeses, ham, and two loaves of bread, meticulously laid out on a simple wooden board. 

It is more than you could have hoped for. You eagerly sit on the blanket and Corinthian joins you, carefully brushing his fingers along your arm and handing you a plate. He chuckles when your hands brush as you reach for some cheese and meat and he carefully slices up some bread for you, which you gratefully accept.

The flavors burst on your tongue in a delightful manner, a low moan passing along your lips. Corinthian stiffens next to you his slice of cheese close to his mouth, jaw slack.

Hell, he loves the noise you made, and he briefly finds his mind wondering to what other noises he could possibly get you to make. He shakes these thoughts from his head as he asks, “Enjoying yourself?” 

“This is probably the best meal I have had all week.” 

He cocks a brow, his signature move. “Really?” That surprises him. What the heck have you been eating then?

“Yeah. The best I can do for myself sometimes is cereal, some taco meat on occasion, and sandwiches when I am in a pinch. It’s not the worst thing.” 

The way you shrug this off nonchalantly rubs Corinthian, prying an itch from his skin. He wants to make you good warm meals, that is the least you deserve. He wants to hold you against the cruel world, and kill those who harm you, bother you, or stand in your way. 

He reaches out to you to stroke your face with his hand, thumb dragging along your lip. “You had a bit of something there.” 

Your face warms at his touch, and you lean into him more, your gaze transfixed on him beyond the sunglasses. You wonder what emotion he conveys behind his eyes. Curiosity getting the better of you, you reach out to his glasses, but he veers out of your way. 

“Not here, darling,” he snaps, sending you shrinking. What did you do? You didn’t mean it. Panic and worry crawl along your skin. So you have been too foreward and he hates you now. 

Great, Aspen, look what you have done, ruined your once chance of something exciting in your life. Get it together you can make this work. 

“I’m sorry,” you eventually find yourself saying after an agonizing ten minutes, as you and Corinthian continue your meal, the park filling with more people. Children are playing on the playground, a group of teens starts a pickup soccer game, parents run with their children, a couple walks with a stroller built for twins from the look of it. 

You find yourself smiling as Corinthian reaches out for your hand, squeezing it gently. 

“I am sorry for snapping at you, Aspen. My eyes are sensitive and I don’t like exposing to the sun more than necessary, hence why I wear these. Should have explained sooner.”

“Oh.” 

Corinthian swallows, watching you intently. Shit he scared you off, you hate him for his outburst. He understands if you want to get up and leave, but…you don't, you stare at him longer then reach for the bottle opener, picking up the bottle of wine and champagne he bought.

He was not sure which you preferred, but champagne is usually in style, especially for a celebration and wasn’t this a celebration? 

A celebration of a colossal win or a massive failure. 

He had found you and wanted to know you more. What little part of his heart however misshapen by his creator beat stronger in your presence, filling him with a curious warmth, a warmth different beyond his bloodlust for killing.

He cared, that is what he feels when he watches you pilfer through the wicker basket, your face brightening when you produce a Honeycrisp apple. 

Without a word, Corinthian reaches out to take it from you, sliding a knife out from his holster and cutting it up in an expert fashion. Your eyes remain glued on him in morbid fascination, perusing his biceps, down to his forearms, then focusing on his hands. 

You wonder how they would feel on your sides, squeezing you gently, holding you close to his chest where you can hear the thrumming of his heart.

“Something on your mind, darling?” 

 You shrug, swallowing another bite of cheese before replying. “Not really. I was considering going to the bookstore later. I need something else to stimulate my mind while at work.

“Ah I see, work can get slow?” 

“Being a receptionist has its ups and downs throughout the week, but my boss gives us enough downtime to sneak in reading time throughout the day. It is good for our productivity.” 

“Ah, so I see,” Corinthian hums thoughtfully, interrupted by the ping of his phone. “Shit.” He glances down at his phone, mouth pulled into a thin line. 

“What’s wrong?” You take a sip of your champagne. 

“The sitter texted me saying their plans fell through so they can’t watch Levi for the following two hours. I told Matthew I needed him for longer so Levi wouldn’t disturb us.” 

“Oh, I see. Well, would it be that bad if Levi joined us?” 

“I had planned for us to go bowling.”

“He can join us.”

“Wait, you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” you smile. 

“I wanted this to be a pleasant experience for the both of us with no distraction and people are hesitant when I mention I have a child-”

“Hey,” you squeeze his hand. “There’s no need to explain yourself. I understand how it can be, the unsurety of how people treat you being a single parent.” 

“It is not easy.”

“It never is, but we love our children regardless.” 

Corinthian at least wanted to continue pleading his case so he hurriedly explained his sitter Matthew had to rush off on an extended errand for his demanding boss, and his bosses’ assistant Lucienne who was Corinthain’s fallback was overwhelmed with administrative duties it was not feasible and Merv, well Corinthian wanted Levi to not be surrounded by dangerous equipment - equipment Merv was certain to allow Levi try out all in good fun.

“Say we skip bowling and get ice cream as a treat for Levi. Would he like that?” 

“Darling, you are wonderful. I am sure he will be delighted.” 

******

With a bowling date falling through, Corinthian set his apprehensions aside when he saw Levi running to you for a hug after opening the apartment door. “Pretty person is back. Look dad!”

“Yes Levi, I can see you’re having fun. Hopefully, you were not too much trouble to Matthew. Also, that pretty person is Aspen. Can you give them a proper hello?” 

Levi beams at you as you twirl him in your arms, giggling hysterically. “H-hii Aspen!” 

“Hey bud, you have a good day today?” He giggles when you set him back on the floor, chuckling in amusement as he steadies himself on his legs. He quickly makes a beeline for the kitchen where he climbs up on the table to watch Corinthian. 

You join him and Corinthian sets down a glass before you from which you take a sip, thanking him all the while. 

“I have a few more things to pack then we can go get ice cream.”

“Wait, we’re getting ice cream?” Levi’s eyes widen and he almost falls out of his chair with excitement. 

“Woah buddy hold your horses. We will get some after we run a few errands. You can be patient, right?” Corinthian raises an incredulous brow. 

Levi giggles, nodding furiously. “Yes, Dad!” 

“Wonderful, buddy. How about you run along and show Aspen some of the books you got from the library this week.” 

“Yeahh!!” 

******

A few hours later, you find yourself back in the ice cream parlor you eyeballed weeks ago, one you thought of going to before settling on your park bench. It was the decision that changed the course of you life, leading you to meet Levi and his father. You find yourself enjoying their company their laughter, their conversation and warmth.

You forgot that is how a family could be, how humanity could be. Laughter, joy, the simplicity of running errands. Levi is surprisingly well-behaved and jovial, staying close to Corinthian and holding your hand to not lose you in the slew of people in the aisles and sidewalks. 

Soon enough you’re laughing, full from the ice cream at the parlor, and head back to the park after dropping off the groceries. Corinthian insisted all the while that he is making you dinner sometime after hearing you adore a good spaghetti and meatballs and a variety of American cuisine like cheeseburgers and BBQ. 

*******

He can’t stop watching you, your smile as you guide Levi down the sidewalk, turning your head to be on the lookout for any strangers or creeps who would follow you back to his apartment. He likes your smile, the way laughter flows through your entire being. It lights you up from the inside out and it is a beautiful sight.

You are beautiful, he realizes, has known it since the moment he met you in the park, a well-worn book next to you on the bench, the half-eaten sandwich you likely saved for dinner or lunch the following day. 

His heart seizes at this realization, the grocery bag almost slipping from his shoulder and he almost freaking trips- trips on the sidewalk barely avoiding a yipping dog whose owner rolled their eyes at him. 

You and Levi couldn’t contain your laughter and you were even more stunning then. He wants to reach out and hold your hand, hold Levi’s hand too. He can picture the life you could have together in his simple two bedroom apartment, the one he was lucky enough to find in a pinch soon after he rescued Levi, desperate to escape the confines of the dreaming world. 

Levi who changed his world in an instant and vowed to protect and would riot if Morpheus ever found him and tried to separate them. He needs Levi as much as Levi needs him. He cares for him so much more than he can express and he does not want to lose you either. If he could pull himself into some semblance of a better person for the good of his son, he can do it for you.

He wants to be by your side for as long as you will have him. He says none of this as your walk into the library, his grocery bag full of library books to return. Levi had insisted on another outing to one of the few places he felt save, practically begged Aspen on the phone to join him and his dad again. 

Aspen complied, falling under his spell but Cornthian hopes it is because you want to see him as much as he wants to see you. The weeks have slipped away in the blink of an eye when your both near each other and he can’t explain how much more time he wants in your presence.

The late night killing sprees he completes do not hold a candle to the shine of your smile, the thrill of it all. Hell, he loves to make you smile, the easeful way your hair falls, warm and streaked with sunlight, makes you all the more alluring and he wants your smile to fall upon his face longer. 

******

The time at the park passes in a blur and you're on the way back to Corinthian’s apartment, Levi in tow, sitting atop his father’s shoulders, eyes bleary in exhaustion. The long day had certainly caught up to him between the grocery shopping, ice cream parlor, and additional park time.

You can’t blame him as you stifled back another yawn, yearning for the comfort of your bed. You almost sigh in relief when the apartment door opened, Levi murmuring sleepily that he wanted a popsicle, and Corinthian chuckled good-naturedly. 

You collapse onto the couch after taking your shoes off, relief sinking into you when the soft cushions meet your back. 

“Now this is nice.” You sigh and stretch. 

Cori smirked, Levi yawning on his shoulders as he pulled him down. 

“Time to get ready for bed, little buddy.” 

“Dad…” 

“Now, now Levi we’ve talked about this.” 

“But dad…” 

“Now now son, you know right and well you need to go to bed early tonight.” 

You smiled, continuing to listen in to their back and forth, soothed by the steady rhythm of their nightly routine, and your mind drifted, falling into thoughts you kept tightly concealed, ones that you hoped would never surface, let alone in the house of the person you have come to enjoy the company of for the past week, no month.

How time flew when you were together with him and Levi. You felt a certain kinship to Levi, healing the broken parts of your soul. You shifted adjusting yourself unconsciously, bumping up against something, or rather, someone next to you. 

Your heart raced. You try not to panic. Your heart is thrumming faster, certain you are in a dream until your eyes fly open, greeted with a room with soft light akin to a candle. 

Something, or someone stirs next to you and your first instinct is to get the hell out of there but your mind screams at you to take it slow so you do. 

Breathe. Kai isn’t here. You are safe. 

The mantra steadied you, and now that your eyes adjust to the light you can see you are in a large bedroom with a view overlooking the city, a gentle breeze blew through the room ruffling your hair. A soft sigh and groan followed from the figure next to you. Blonde, no almost platinum hair upon the bedsheets, and a nightmask around his eyes. 

Corinthian had tucked you in bed, his bed, and had fallen asleep next to you. You’re uncertain how you feel, then, but find the comfort of a warm body nice.

You liked that it was Corinthian there protecting you, watching over you, caring for you enough to let you stay. Though you had a panic about it you still find the gesture kind. In fact he was so kind you decided to return the favor and trailed your arm along his sleeping form, grasping onto his bicep. 

“What is it now, Morpheus. I have been good! Please.” 

“Corinthian? It’s me, Aspen.” 

You jostle him and still nothing. Nothing in the room made a sound, the breeze frozen on its journey through, almost stealing the breath from your lips.

Your bones felt cold, yet you can’t break away from Corinthian, his Adam's apple bobbling, lips pleading, forming words that don’t fall from his lips, until he croaks softly, “No…please don’t. Not him. Not Levi.” 

Dread falls into the pit of your stomach, awakening your irrational fears, but you shove them down, focusing on the man beside you. You nudge him again. 

“Cori? Wake up. I’m here. It’s me, Aspen,” You speak into the silence of the room, darkness convalescing down the walls, shadows playing on the cracks of the walls.

They laugh at you forming faces of your failures; you can’t save them, but you are the one who has to be saved. Can’t you do anything right? They taunt. You scream at them to leave you alone, just as Corinthian’s form jolts upright, breathing hard, a cold sweat chilling him to the bone. 

“Aspen?” Your name is a whisper on his tongue, tentative, unsure. 

You reach for his hand, squeezing tight in reassurance. “Yes, it’s me.” 

A few moments of silence pass, frozen in the low light of the room, moonlight streaming in. 

“Could you still care for me, even knowing I am a monster, an abomination?” 

“Cori we’ve known each other, have been talking for two months, now even if we only recently had our first date. You haven’t scared me off, yet. I do not think that will happen.” 

He gaffes before a bitter laugh follows. “Yet. So you will leave eventually, they all do.” 

Will you at least let me look at you? You do not sound okay” You reach for his eyemask and he turns his face from you. You’re not sure from fear, shame, or something worse. 

“I can’t let you or Levi see me this way.”

“Levi is fine, you put him to bed four hours ago, see?” You check the clock on the nightstand which chimes midnight, signaling a new day. “What’s really going on Cori? I know I have no right to prod into any more of your business. We haven’t known each other long, but would it help to talk about it?” 

He huffs, shifting before curling up. Why did you care? He is a monster, and doesn’t want you to see the true horrors he encapsulates.

Sure, he has done some things in the past that weren’t befitting of his station, but he had to claim his right. Surely Morpheus didn’t dare to track him down, yet the fear was always present, the thought of Levi being abandoned, left for dead, forgotten. 

Corinthian does not want to face that shame, so he pulls you close, taking a deep breath before replying. “Can you turn the light off, please?” 

You oblige, turning back the sheets, holding back a chill running down your spine. You hate to admit your fear of the dark but you can do this for him. A soft rustling comes from the bed and you hear the clicking of teeth, faint and rhythmic.

Your stomach turns in knots, thinking you stepped on something but eases as Corinthian feels for you, his mouth pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, before pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your hand, then your palm, and the inside of your wrist. 

“Would you stay the night with me? I know you fell asleep earlier so I couldn’t ask and I want you to be alright.” He ignores the lump that forms in his throat as he speaks, hoping you will agree and keep his racing thoughts at bay. 

You smile, despite the pitch-black darkness as you whisper, “Of course,” all the while falling into his hopeful, waiting embrace.

******

[rubykgrant]

(Here is Locus getting all sappy in the Grimmons Babies story; emotional honesty and awkward situations are just one of his many penances for war crimes)

“Oh,” he knew they were going to have babies. He even knew how many they were going to have. So, it wasn’t a surprise to see the infants, exactly, but… Locus couldn’t help but fall quiet, filled with a sense of… wonder. That was it, WONDER.

He’s been close to small children and babies before, but none this young. Just barely two days old, after all. He’s known a few people who had been parents, but he’s not sure he’s ever seen them go through the whole process. Locus knew Mason before he became a father, and has reconnected with him now, many years later. However, he never saw enough of Mason BEING a father, and was absent for a long time as the child grew up.

This situation is very different; he was there when Grif and Simmons finally shared their relationship with everybody, he attended their wedding, was included when they explained they were going to have children, and now… the babies are right before his eyes. Because he’s finally stopped fighting against the tide that seems to want to pull him into being part of this group, Locus knows he’s going to see these babies as they get bigger. He will know them, he will be part of their lives.

Locus eases himself down to sit beside Grif on the bed. Grif and Simmons both have expressions on their faces that signal they understand this moment, because they’ve had it themselves, and seen others go through it recently. Locus lets a small laugh escape him, and it feels suddenly shaky and fragile in his chest. He looks at both of them, then back to the babies. The two continue eating their cream of wheat as Locus tried to gather his thoughts.

This was certainly a very happy moment, a very HOPEFUL moment… but as always, a voice in the back of his mind was attempting to spoil it, telling him- “You don’t deserve this, you shouldn’t even be here, after everything you’ve done and all the pain you’ve caused, you should be dead, sweet and peaceful moments like this aren’t meant for monsters like you” (and underneath the guilty voice of self-loathing, there was another voice that often tried to be heard, a voice that was a twisted combination of false-comfort and deceitful manipulation, with nothing but cruel intentions… but Locus had learned long ago how to identify that voice, and finally how to ignore it).

One of the babies made a sound, sort of a small yawn that turned into a hum; it made all three men chuckle (it sounded just like a noise Grif often made when he was getting comfortable on the couch), and that gently brought Locus out of the depths of his depressing thoughts. He was here, and for whatever strange reason, these people WANTED him here. They wanted his company, his friendship, and they wanted him to meet their children. Perhaps he didn’t “deserve” this… but it was the life he now had.

***

“A long time ago, Kaikaina told me that I belonged with this group. With all of you,” Locus spoke slowly, carefully. Almost timidly. “At the time, I didn’t take her seriously. I couldn’t. I still felt hollow, like the empty suit of armor I turned myself into. After all the death I caused, I didn’t think a monster like me deserved to even be alive… but if I was going to live, then I was going to change. I was going to save people, instead of killing them. It was what I wanted to do, and it just- it just seemed fair. Like the only option,”

Locus took a deep breath and held it. Simmons and Grif waited patiently, and Darien squeezed Locus’s finger absently, simply because Darien was a baby, and babies squeeze things. Still, it felt encouraging, and Locus finally let out a sigh and continued.

“I had better motivations, but I was… I still treated myself like a tool or a weapon, something that only mattered when it was useful. Even after walking away from Chorus, I was still stuck thinking that I needed to be USED. And I knew I should be locked up for the horrible things I did, but that could wait until later, when I wasn’t useful anymore. When Kai said that I was going to be friends with all of you, whether I liked it or not, I just refused to accept that. I couldn’t see the connection,” 

“And Grif… you were my first friend, the first REAL friend I had after a long time. At first, I knew you only latched onto me because you’d been alone, and I was there to help rescue the others… but then, when it was over, you kept talking to me. Just because. And so did everybody else. Before I knew what was happening, I started having a life again. One that wasn’t empty. Now I’m in a place I never thought I’d be. So, Kai was right after all…”

***

“Oh, wait, do you need anything from your bags?” Simmons asked, as Locus began to stretch out across the couch, taking off his jacket and draping it over the back.

“Actually, just one has my things in it. The other two are gifts for both of you,” Locus answered. “You can probably tell which ones…”

Grif looked into one bag; a set of folded clothes and a plastic baggy that contained toothpaste and a toothbrush.

“OK, found your stuff,” Grif picked it up, then put it beside the couch for Locus. He went back to the other bags to see what they had inside. “Hell yeah, this one has cookies! That’s for me then, thank you”

“It’s for BOTH of you,” Locus corrected, and Simmons took the bag from his husband to inspect it further.

“There’s more than just cookies in here…” Simmons saw a small cake and several other baked goods.

“I picked them up from this shop I know. Everything they make is amazing, and I thought it would be a good occasion for some treats,” he explained.

“Thank you, Locus,” Simmons put the bag of treats on the coffee table by their couch.

“Yeah, and I promise, I’ll share with Simmons. Not the others though, this is just for US,” Grif added.

Simmons peered into the third bag, and at first, he wasn’t sure what he was looking at…

“Is this… what is it? Wait, is it a house plant?” he reached inside, finding the edge of the circular planter pot; it felt like it was made out of terracotta. It wasn’t huge, but still slightly heavy. Once he had a good grip, he let the bag fall to the floor, revealing what was inside.

“Actually, it’s an apple tree,” Locus told him. “I mean, it will be, eventually. I know you’ve been working on the property outside, and I thought… well, I thought it would be nice to plant a fruit tree. It’ll grow with the kids, and someday they’ll be able to eat the apples it makes, and they can climb in it once it gets big enough. If you have room for it, I mean…”

“This is perfect! Were just talking the other day about getting some fruit trees!” Simmons said, excitedly showing the gift to his husband; currently, the young tree basically looked like a stick in a pot full of dirt… but on some of the slender twiggy branches, they could see little bumps where tiny leaves had grown and then fallen off. If they took care of it this winter, they could plant it in the ground next spring and watch as it grew new leaves (and perhaps some flower buds).

“Locus, you’re actually very tenderhearted, aren’t you? An apple tree our kids will grow up with… that’s one of the most whimsical and sweet things I’ve ever heard, and I kinda love it,” Grif said.

Locus made a disgruntled noise, denying the accusation of being so sentimental while also sounding very embarrassed (which just proved what Grif said true), and rolled over on the couch to bury his face in a pillow. The conversation was over.

[sunflowergirl522]

Quiet Moments

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Summary: In which Peter falls in love with the slow moments with you.

Warnings: I don’t think there’s any but let me know if there are.

Word Count: 878

A/n: Just a short drabble based off a post that I found forever ago and just remembered. I’m not sure where to find it now though. I’m also not sure if I like the ending or not but here it is anyway.

Masterlist

Peter couldn’t stand doing things slow, he hated the way he would get antsy while waiting to do anything. He hated the quietness of whatever slow moments he had. His mind was constantly going a hundred miles a minute and it was best for him to have a constant distraction from it. So everything Peter did, he did fast. Even falling in love with you. In fact he never thought he’d enjoy doing anything slow until he met you. And then he started to love slow, quiet moments.

You were nothing if not gentle. Your mutation was being able to communicate with animals so you had gotten used to doing everything you did quietly and oftentimes slowly. You couldn’t help it, animals had basically raised you, your parents had been anything but present while you were growing up so the animals they kept you company while you learned to take care of yourself. The only thing you didn’t do slowly was falling in love with Peter. 

You tried for him, truly you did. You tried to do things faster and hang out with him his way but the loudness of his games and his tv gave you a headache and you couldn’t ever seem to keep up with him. Once Peter realized this, and he had to realize it because you didn’t want to bring it up and make him worry, he made sure to turn things down when you were around and he didn’t move quite as fast. But even then he could tell that you were trying your best to enjoy yourself when the two of you hung out. When he brought it up to you all you responded with was that you enjoy just being around him with the smile he loves so much and a kiss on his cheek. Peter started to plan dates for the two of you that he knew would be good for you. 

It started with him asking you to read to him. He had walked into your room and laid on the couch with his head in your lap and asked you to. You had been confused, that meant he’d have to lay there and just listen. He had insisted that this was what he wanted and you had just shrugged your shoulders and grabbed a book from your shelf. Peter could’ve sworn that he fell in love with you even more that day. The way that your voice fell into a rhythm as you read aloud, the way you got so immersed into the book, and the way that you would thread your fingers through his hair. Everything about it was so incredibly soothing and for what felt like the first time in his life his mind was still.

Then it moved onto watching tv together. Except instead of having it turned up and doing other things while he watched, Peter sat still and let you control the volume. It wasn’t quiet but it wasn’t loud enough to dominate every other sound in the room. You both would take turns picking the movie and your full attention was on it, almost. The little absent minded touches you would give him kept him grounded. Everytime you would run your fingers over his thigh or grab onto his hand or rest your head on his shoulder it just reminded him why he was doing it. When his knee would start to bounce up and down from being still for so long you’d pause the movie and ask if he wanted to go get some snacks and then if it was still going when he got back you’d make sure he was all good before playing the movie again and rubbing circles into his knee. Without fail that calmed him down every time. While watching tv didn’t calm his mind, it was often just full of thoughts of how much he absolutely adored you.

The third time he slowed down for you was when you had asked him to stay with you after having a nightmare. He didn’t think twice before getting comfortable next to you even though he knew he was going to be up all night like he usually was. He stayed still the whole night scared that if he did anything other than breathe you’d wake up. To keep his mind from driving him crazy he paid attention to your hushed breathing and quiet snores. He paid attention to the small twitches your legs would make and how you seemed to curl further into him as the night went on. The warmth of your body and the sound of your heartbeat helped lull him into sleep a lot quicker than he’s ever fallen asleep. And when you wake up in the morning you’re shocked to find the snoozing speedster still there. You thought that he would’ve left to kill off energy once you were asleep. Peter wakes up that afternoon to you rubbing patterns into his back while you read with his head resting on your chest. He can’t stop the smile that graces his face and now at the end of each day and he’s ready to slow down for the night he makes his way to your bed knowing that it’ll help him get to sleep faster.

[bellakitse]

To Love is to Know You

“Carlitos got hurt at work,” she whispers, her face pale and frightened. “He got shot, and they are rushing him to the hospital.”

+

When Carlos gets hurt on the job, his parents find out about the important parts of his life he’s been keeping from them, mainly the man he’s in love with.

Gabriel Reyes' POV

*there is accidental outing in this since this isn’t how Carlos planned on telling his parents.

6.3k

They’ve settled in for the night and are in the middle of watching a movie their son recommended when the phone rings.

“Carlos really likes this?” he questions skeptically as more blood goes spraying across the screen.

His wife chuckles at his tone even as she winces at the scream the protagonist lets out for the 100th time.

“He’s young, Gabriel. I don’t think we’re actually supposed to like what Carlitos likes,” she tells him as she leans across the couch, reaching for her phone. She turns to him with a smile as she shows him the caller ID. “Hablando del diablo,” she says fondly before pressing talk on their son calling.

“Tell him I’m questioning his choices,” Gabriel jokes, pausing the movie as Andrea says hello with a smile. He watches as that smile quickly drops, his heart seizing in his throat as she lets out a gasp and a shaky ‘what?’ to whoever she’s speaking to. It’s obvious now that it’s not their boy.

He waits for her to end the call with a fearful ‘we’ll be there soon’ before she turns to him with tears in her eyes.

Even before she speaks, he knows, and his hands shake as they reach for hers.

“Carlitos got hurt at work,” she whispers, her face pale and frightened. “He got shot, and they are rushing him to the hospital.”

 ֎֎֎

 The drive to the hospital is both short and the longest drive Gabriel Reyes has ever had behind the wheel. Next to him, Andrea grips the rosary his mama gave her after they got married. She doesn’t pray, though, and he thinks she’s too worried to remember any prayer at the moment.

“He’s going to be okay,” he tells her, his voice rougher than he would typically use with his sweetheart, but he can see her starting to spiral, and he needs her to focus on his voice and not on all the troubling thoughts he knows are running through her head at the moment. “Carlos is young and strong. He’s going to be fine, he –”

“Is our baby boy,” she whispers, looking at him with those big brown eyes, so like Carlos’ when he was little, looking at him to make everything okay.

“El va estar bien, amor,” he tells her softly, willing himself to believe it too.

He pulls into the hospital parking lot. They quickly exit the car, holding hands as they rush towards the doors and the front desk. He’s sure they both look a fright as they ask the girl behind the counter for information.

“Mr. and Mrs. Reyes,” calls out a tired voice to them, and when they turn around, they find a familiar-looking young man with brown hair and green eyes standing before them in an EMS uniform.

Gabriel is struck by his eyes. They’re wide, the worry in them plain to see, and it’s obvious he’s been crying by how pink and puffy they are.

“I’ve been waiting for you both; I didn’t want you to get lost,” he tells them, pointing to a door at the far end of the hall to the left. “We’re in there.”

“How’s Carlitos?” his wife asks at the same time as he says. “We’ve met you before.”

“Uh – yes – you have, sir. I’m TK,” he answers with a grimace. Gabriel knows it is the young man’s effort to smile but just can’t. “We met at the farmer’s market about nine months ago.”

TK turns to Andrea, his expression softening instantly. “They took Carlos to the back when we got here, ma’am, but we haven’t heard anything yet.”

“What happened?” he asks TK and is struck again by how expressive his eyes are. Gabriel sees pain, fear, frustration, and anger cross his face.

“We were answering a call to a disturbance; a man was threatening to set fire to his ex-bosses place and was holding them hostage inside. He was armed, so Carlos and the rest of APD went in first,” TK takes a pause, swallowing hard, and Gabriel is struck by how the young man is keeping it together when it’s undeniable that it’s difficult for him to do so. “Shots were exchanged, and the suspect was neutralized but not before he hit Carlos.”

“Where?” he asks, hoping against hope that his son was wearing his vest. TK’s face, scared and apologetic, tells him it doesn’t matter.

“T – the,” TK clears his throat, lifting a hand to run through his hair. Gabriel catches the slight shake of it. It’s not the only thing he spots on them. Though mostly clean, Gabriel notices specks of blood on them. Looking him over once more, he sees some on his uniform too. “The neck, sir.”

Andrea lets out a gasp, bringing her hand to her mouth to try and muffle the sound.

“You worked on him,” Gabriel realizes. He needs to focus on something other than the information they’ve just been given.

“Yes,” TK answers, biting down on his lip to the point that Gabriel wants to wince at how painful it looks. Given the redness of his mouth, the kid has probably been doing it a while now. “My Captain didn’t want it to be me – ” TK stops.

He takes a breath, collecting himself. “We stabilized him on the field and then brought him over. My Captain is here if you want to speak with her while we wait for the doctors.”

They follow the young man down the hall into a private room, and Gabriel is shocked to see how full it is with first responders, most still in uniform like TK. Everyone seems to turn to look at them when they walk in.

“These are Carlos’ parents,” TK explains to the crowd before turning to a tall woman with a sympathetic but no-nonsense look on her face. “Captain Vega, could you – ” he gestures towards them.

The Captain nods, standing from her seat to walk over to them. She has a bag with her that she hands over to TK.

“Nancy brought your stuff from your locker,” she says to the kid with a kind smile. She places her hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Why don’t you go change while I speak with Carlos’ parents.”

TK nods, looking relieved. “Yeah, Cap, thanks.” He turns towards them, looking like he wants to say something else but doesn’t. Instead, he gives them a small nod and walks away, leaving them with his Captain.

Gabriel focuses on her, reaching out to hold his wife’s hand as Captain Vega goes through the emergency in more detail. She’s compassionate but honest as she breaks down her assessment of Carlos’s injuries on the scene and their handling of it.

“TK is one of the finest medics I have ever worked with,” she tells them, with something akin to pride in her voice. “And it’s Carlos. He wasn’t about to lose him,” she continues softly, knowing. “We got him here, and they’ve had him in the back for the last hour. I’m sure they’ll come out and tell us something soon. All we can do now is wait, unfortunately.”

“And pray,” Andrea whispers thickly.

“Never a bad idea,” she says with a small, understanding smile. She looks away from them when someone calls her name, an older man in uniform walking towards them.

“Tommy, any word? Where’s TK?” he asks, rushed.

“Nothing yet,” she answers the man whose uniform says, Captain Strand. “And TK is changing. We didn’t want him to still be in the uniform that – “ she pauses, her eyes drifting to them.

“Right,” Captain Strand nods before his blue eyes turn towards them. Gabriel watches as he quickly recognizes who they are. “Mr. and Mrs. Reyes?” he questions, exhaling loudly when he answers him with a nod.

“Owen Strand, TK’s dad,” he says, extending his hand to Andrea first and then him. “Nice to finally meet you. I’m sorry it can’t be under better circumstances.”

Gabriel cocks his head at the peculiar comment.

“You work with our son?” Andrea asks politely, probably trying to distract herself from the worry she’s feeling.

“Often,” Owen gives them an honest smile. “He’s one hell of a police officer, good instincts, good head on his shoulders, strong,” he tells them intentionally. “He’s going to come through this just fine.”

Gabriel appreciates the comment, if anything, because it makes Andrea smile for the first time since they heard the news.

“Why don’t we sit down,” Owen continues. “We’re going to be here a while,” he points towards three firefighters with the same 126 insignia he has on his clothes, and they quickly get up, giving them the space. “Maybe we can get you some coffee or tea?”

He shakes his head but nods towards Andrea. “Some tea might be good for your nerves, vieja.”

Andrea nods absently, and Owen turns his head towards the trio who gave them their seats. “Strickland, Marwani, Chavez – “

“On it, Cap,” says the young Latino whose chest tag says, Chavez. “We’ll get for everyone.”

Owen offers the kid a grateful smile. “Get TK a sandwich. I know he hasn’t eaten.”

“He might not want to,” says the other man in the group with a deliberate look.

“We’ll sit on him and force him if we have to,” answers the young woman in the headscarf with a glint in her eyes that tells him she’s not joking. Gabriel watches them leave the room.

“They’re good kids,” Owen comments, catching his gaze. “They care about Carlos very much,” he says with a soft laugh. “Probably because he’s always feeding them when they hang out at his place.”

Andrea smiles at the comment, but Gabriel finds it curious. He doesn’t find it strange that his son would be welcoming. Like his mother, Carlos has always strived to make everyone feel at home. He is just surprised that his son is so close with this particular firehouse and its members.

TK comes back into the room in a hoodie and sweats, looking around. Gabriel watches as his eyes land on them before moving over to his father. He watches as the kid’s shoulders drop at the sight of his dad and quickly makes his way over, almost plowing into him as Captain Strand stands with his arms open, circling them around his boy.

“He’s gonna be okay,” he hears him whisper into his son’s ear. “Carlos wouldn’t leave you, you know that.”

Gabriel takes a sharp breath at the words; he looks over at his wife, seeing that her eyes have gone wide as she stares at the father and son with a newfound gaze, and he knows she’s caught it too.

Before they can come to terms with what it might mean, a doctor in green-colored scrubs walks in with a manila folder in hand. “I’m looking for Officer Reyes’ family?” he questions, startling as everyone stands or looks over at him.

Gabriel is surprised himself but warmed by the idea that so many people care about his son. “Over here,” he calls the doctor over. “We’re his parents.”

The doctor nods in response, crossing the distance between them until he’s standing in front of them, TK and his father joining in. “We’ve stabilized your son enough to move him,” the doctor starts. “He’s in the O.R. now; we’re repairing the damage. He was lucky that the bullet didn’t hit his carotid artery.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Andrea rushes to ask, fear coloring her question.

“We’re doing everything we can, ma’am,” the doctor answers softly with a sympathetic look. “He’s holding strong and was brought in quickly.”

“When can we see him?” he asks, his heart dropping at the shake of the doctor’s head.

“It’s going to be a while,” he answers. “We’re not sure how long it will be in the O.R., and then in recovery, it’s going to be a couple of hours.”

Gabriel feels the room deflate around him at the answer and feels the same.

“For now, I need his next of kin to sign off on some waivers,” the doctor continues as he looks inside his folder, reading out of it. “Who is Tyler Kennedy Strand?” he asks, the question filling the room with sudden tension.

“Uhh – me,” TK stammers, his eyes going to him and Andrea awkwardly. “But his parents – “

The doctor cuts him off with a shake of his head. “Officer Reyes’ work forms have you as the one with the power of attorney over any medical decisions on his behalf. You are aware of this, yes?”

TK looks pained and uncomfortable, apologetic even as he looks at Andrea before nodding. “Yes,” he says softly. “Carlos and I spoke about it a few months ago.”

“Then I need you to come with me, Mr. Strand,” the doctor answers, his eyes shifting over to them as well. “It’s just a formality, you understand.”

TK nods again, gesturing for the doctor to go first, following him out of the room, leaving the rest of them in silence, and he and Andrea stunned.

“They’re involved,” he states, not sure to who, but he catches Captain Strand’s slight wince.

“TK will explain when he comes back in,” he assures them, though Gabriel isn’t sure what he would have to explain. It’s pretty obvious the kid is someone important enough to his son that he would leave him in charge of his care if anything happened to him, and he and his wife know nothing about him.

Andrea reaches for his hand. When he looks at her, he sees the same confusion and hurt in her eyes he’s feeling. He squeezes it reassuringly as they retake their seats, neither knowing what to say.

They stay like that, silently waiting for TK or the doctor to come back. Owen walks away from them, drifting towards the other Captain.

After a few minutes, the ones who walk in are the trio of firefighters the Captain sent out for a snack.

“Te de manzanilla,” Chavez says with a boyish smile as he hands the cup of tea to Andrea. “My Abuela says it’s good for nerves.”

Andrea takes it but doesn’t drink right away. “Thank you – um?”

“Oh! I’m Mateo,” he answers before pointing at the other two who are finishing handing out bottles of water and coffees. “That’s Paul and Marjan. We’re friends of Carlos,” he says with another friendly smile as they come over to them.

“Nice to meet you all,” Andrea answers, elbowing him in the side to do the same.

Gabriel checks out, his mind drifting while his wife picks up the slack and chats with the trio, exchanging small talk. He only tunes in when Mateo asks about their new filly.

“You know about Sally?” he questions, frowning, confused. He gets a few nods from all of them and smiles.

“Carlos showed us pictures of her the last time we were over at his and TK’s place for dinner.”

Gabriel can’t help the sharp breath he takes at the comment.

“They live together?” Andrea asks, shocked, her voice above a whisper.

“Oh,” Paul says softly, his eyes widening with realization at their lack of knowledge. He exchanges worried looks with the young woman Mateo called Marjan. Both open their mouth as if to speak and then stop at a loss for words. Luckily for them, TK walks back into the room, making his way towards them.

“Guys, could you give me a second with Mr. and Mrs. Reyes?” he asks politely but firmly.

“Yeah, of course, man,” Paul says quickly, while Marjan tugs on Mateo to stand, moving away. Paul starts to follow them, only to stop and look at TK, speaking again with an apologetic look on his face. “We’re sorry, we didn’t know – “

TK waves him off, a half a smile on his tired face. “Don’t worry about it, Paul.”

Paul gives him a nod, looks at them, and nods again before walking away.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” TK tells them softly, biting down on his lip for a moment before taking a breath, straightening his shoulders. “I’ll do my best to answer them. Should we find somewhere a little more private?”

He looks over at his wife and finds her studying TK with a curious eye. He’s not surprised. He’s more than curious himself about this man who is important enough in his son’s life to be making decisions of life and death for him and apparently living with him. “I think that might be best.”

TK nods mostly to himself, motioning for them to follow him.

He leads them out into the hallway and into another room that Gabriel realizes is the chapel.

“Is this okay?” TK questions nervously. “I don’t want to be disrespectful,” he gestures towards the altar.

“It’s fine, TK,” Andrea assures him.

They take a seat together towards the back of the room, TK sitting across from them.

Nobody says anything for a long moment. He sits watching TK as he taps his foot, and Andrea plays with her hands, struck by the similar nervous motions. He recognizes as TK looks at them with a worried wrinkle between his brow, he doesn’t know where to start, and Gabriel is struck by how young he looks like this. It reminds him of Carlos’ nervous habits growing up, so concerned with disappointing them.

“How long have you and our son been together?” he questions, ripping off the bandaid.

“We’ve been dating for over a year,” he answers honestly, wincing when Andrea lets out a shocked sound. “But we’ve known each other for over a year and a half. It took a while for us to get – us, right.”

“A year?” Andrea questions, surprised and more than a little sad. “He’s kept this from us for a year?”

“He didn’t mean to,” TK rushes to explain – to defend their son to them, Gabriel realizes. He stops looking nervous, and Gabriel can honestly feel the wave of protectiveness coming off the young man.

While the part of him that isn’t still shocked at this sudden news is pleased that Carlos has found someone obviously loyal to him, another part of him is at a loss at being someone this young man thinks he needs to protect his son from. It leaves an unpleasant feeling in his stomach he tries to push down before he reacts in a way that he’ll regret later.

“Then what did he mean?” he questions, trying to understand. “Because if you guys have been dating for a year, that means you two were together when we met you at the market, and he called you a friend from work.”

He feels bad as his words cause the kid to flinch, and a small cynical smile twists his lips upward for a second.

“Yeah, that caused a big fight between us,” he answers dryly. “Look, this is something you need to talk about with Carlos when he comes to. We both knew it was a long time coming, and trust me, he’s been working up the nerve to tell you both about us.”

“Why would he need to work up the nerve?” Andrea questions while Gabriel watches as TK’s eyes flash, his hands curling for a moment. He’s struck by the fleeting anger he sees there – at them.

“Because you’re both more traditional, and he didn’t want to rub your noses in our relationship,” he answers tightly, making Andrea gasp.

Gabriel feels his hackles raise at the resentment he hears in the words. “Hey now, you don’t get – “

“Carlos’ own words,” TK interrupts, his voice sharp enough to stop him. TK stops too, taking a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment.

“I apologize,” he starts again, his voice calmer. “It’s not my place at all, and Carlos needs to be the one to explain this to you.”

Gabriel exchanges a glance with his wife, letting out a sigh when she gives him a serious look. He turns towards TK again, taking a calming breath of his own. “But he’s not here right now, and we’d like to understand.”

TK lets out a sigh, nodding at them after a moment. “You’re right,” he agrees quietly, running a hand through his hair. “I just really wish he was here, though,” he pauses, the pain and love in his eyes as he speaks striking a core with him. This man loves his son. That much is clear.

“Okay, first things first. Carlos loves you both so much,” he tells them reassuringly. “He speaks of both of you with so much respect and admiration. Please don’t doubt that for one second. He didn’t keep us a secret from you because he doesn’t love or respect you.”

“Then why?” Andrea asks, trying to understand.

TK presses his lips together, giving her a helpless shrug of his shoulder. “Because he was scared of upsetting you, of disturbing the tentative peace that the three of you have had since he rocked your world by telling you he was gay at 17, and then none of you ever spoke about it again. He didn’t want to disappoint you.”

By TK’s expression, Gabriel knows that he hasn’t just spoken with any malice, yet he still feels his words hit him like a punch.

“But – that’s,” he stumbles at a loss for words. “Carlos could never disappoint us,” he looks at Andrea to find her with tears in her eyes. “We love our son.”

TK gives him a smile; it’s kind and understanding. “I don’t doubt that,” he tells them, looking at Andrea. “He’s so easy to love, of course, you love him.”

“You love him,” Andrea says in awe, still crying, but it feels different than before, almost happy in the middle of the hurt.

TK’s eyes fill with tears; they spill over even as he gives them a bright smile. “More than I have ever loved anyone in my life, ma’am. He is everything to me.”

Gabriel hears how much he means it in his voice and instantly remembers something from earlier. “You worked on him at the scene,” he exhales over a dull ache in his chest at the thought. “Jesus Christ, kid, how did you – “

“The worst moment of my life,” TK whispers, losing his smile, his bottom lip trembling. “And life has thrown some curveballs my way,” he inhales deeply in an effort to control his emotions. “But I wasn’t about to lose him, not like that and not now. We have our whole lives ahead of us, and I plan to spend mine with your son.”

Gabriel hears the conviction and the subtle threat he’s issuing them. He’s telling them he’s not going anywhere, and while a small part of him wants to be annoyed at the warning, Gabriel finds himself mostly impressed. He finds himself liking the kid despite the situation.

“You love him so much,” Andrea whispers, shaking her head to herself. Knowing his wife, she’s mourning the fact that they’ve missed out on seeing it. “And he loves you?”

TK nods quickly. “He never lets me doubt it, not for one single second,” he swallows before another smile takes over his face, soft and involuntary. “He’s wonderful.”

“I’m so sorry we’ve missed it,” she tells him, and Gabriel smiles to himself at how easy he can still read her. “It was never our intent to make Carlos feel like he couldn’t share with us his life. When he told us he was gay, yes, it was a surprise, but we never loved him less,” she frowns, letting out a soft breath. “We wanted him to feel like nothing had changed, and instead, we made him feel like he couldn’t talk to us.”

“But he can,” he continues for Andrea, hoping TK will understand.

Andrea nods in agreement. “He can,” she repeats. “We want to be part of the life he’s building with you.”

TK smiles. It’s wobbly but iridescent as it lights up the room. “He – we would like that very much,” he tells them, chuckling softly. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to know you both. You need to tell him when he wakes up.”

Andrea looks fearful again as she turns from TK to him and back again. “What if – “

“No,” TK answers resolutely. He holds out his hand for Andrea, covering it when she places it in his. “Carlos is going to be fine. He’s not leaving us.”

Gabriel watches them hold each other’s hands, his wife taking comfort from the man in love with their son, and hopes, for all their sakes, that he will turn out to be right.

 ֎֎֎

 The next three days are the longest of Gabriel’s life. After over seven hours of surgery and recovery, they’re allowed to see a sleeping Carlos.

If there was any doubt in his mind about TK’s feelings for his son, they’re wiped out the moment he sees him at his bedside. The way he takes his hand in his, holding it for dear life as he whispers in his ear that he loves him and that he’s there, that they all are.

They wait, hours and hours they wait for Carlos to wake up. The doctors tell them the surgery was successful, and now they just have to wait for Carlos’ body to recover enough for him to wake up. They’re not sure when that’ll be.

He walks into his son’s hospital room after taking a call from work to find TK alone with Carlos, his wife nowhere in sight.

“You know, sweetheart, if this is payback for the time I got shot and ended up in a coma, then message received,” TK talks to a sleeping Carlos, bringing his hand to his lips. “You can wake up now because I’ve learned my lesson.”

“You were shot?” he questions, raising an eyebrow, wondering exactly what these two have been through.

TK blinks up at him. He lowers Carlos’ hand but doesn’t let go. “Yeah,” he nods, clearing his throat. “Before Carlos and I officially got together, it was a house disturbance gone wrong, an accident, but I got hit in the chest and ended up in an eight-day coma. Carlos had to sit through it, the eight worse days of his life, he likes to remind me,” he turns back to Carlos, his expression softening. “I really didn’t need to learn the hard way how this feels.”

Gabriel makes a sound at the back of his throat. He takes the seat he’d been occupying next to Andrea, finding her purse still there.

“She went to the restroom and to get something to drink,” TK tells him. “I told her I would stay with Carlos.”

Gabriel nods in understanding, and the room goes quiet as neither says anything else. They both just watch Carlos, focusing on the rise and fall of his chest. His eyes stray to TK —his focus on Carlos, the way he reaches out to touch his skin like he can’t bear letting him go for a moment for fear he’ll slip away. The last few days, he and Andrea have gotten to know the kid better, along with the rest of his crew.

Their love for each other and their love for Carlos is evident in every gesture and kind word they have to say about him. It still hurts him to know he and Andrea have missed so much. As he laid in bed holding his crying wife, more than a few tears slipped his own eyes at the lost time. Every day that passes, he promises to fix it when his son wakes up.

“You know, when he was around ten, he convinced his cousin to help him up the stallion at the farm,” he starts telling him, lost in the memory. “And this was a rough horse, even I didn’t ride him much, but he got on, and the thing, of course, sent him flying,” he shakes his head to himself. “He was knocked out maybe five minutes, but they were the longest five minutes of my life.”

“Was he okay?” TK questions, concerned even though it obviously turned out okay in the end.

“A fractured arm,” he answers, chuckling. “As soon as the cast was off, he was right back at it – this time bribing the horse with apples, carrots, and beetroots until he won him over. By the end, it would only let Carlos ride him. He was so smug about it, tipping his hat at us as he rode him.”

TK grins from ear to ear. “Tell me there are pictures of him in the hat.”

Gabriel stands, pulling out his wallet. He fishes out an old worn picture, passing it over to TK. He watches as the boy takes gentle care, running his index finger over the image as he smiles down at it.

“Damn, that’s cute,” he murmurs, handing back the picture after a moment longer. “You know, he won me over with patience too.”

Gabriel raises an eyebrow at the comment, waiting for him to continue.

“When he and I met, I wasn’t in a good place emotionally,” TK starts to tell him as he looks back at Carlos, reaching up to brush his hair back. “I’d gotten out of a relationship that left me messed up, and I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I hurt his feelings at the beginning, and honestly, he should have just cut his losses.”

He looks over at him. “But Carlos doesn’t give up on people, especially when they’re hurting, so he became my friend, someone I could trust with the not-so-great parts of me. He never judged. He just cared about me more, making sure I knew that I was worth the effort even when I wasn’t so sure of that myself,” he smiles as he retakes Carlos’ hand. “He loves me even when I don’t always love myself.”

“I’m sure you do the same for him,” Gabriel answers. Even with Carlos asleep, he’s seen enough to know the two of them genuinely love each other. Now he just wants his son to wake up so he can see it for real.

“I try,” TK answers. “He makes it easy.”

“Do you think he’ll forgive us?” he can’t help but ask, the question playing in his head the last few days as he learned more of the parts of his life Carlos felt the need to keep to himself for their comfort.

TK frowns as he looks at him, shaking his head slowly. “Carlos will tell you there is nothing to forgive. He doesn’t blame you.”

“He should, though,” he can’t help but argue, feeling frustrated, angry tears at the back of his throat. Fear clawing its way back after three days of waiting for his boy to open his eyes and wondering if it will ever happen. “He was 17, a kid, scared but brave as he told us his truth, and while we accepted it at that moment, we didn’t make sure he knew that it would always be okay with us. That’s on us. We should have done better.”

“Do better now, Gabriel,” TK says to him quietly, shrugging his shoulder when he looks at him, his expression nothing but kind. “Forgive yourself, because Carlos never blamed you to begin with, and do better now.”

“Are you always so wise, kid?” he asks, smiling when TK lets out a bark of laughter.

“That is the last word anyone who knows me would use to describe me,” he shakes his head, still giggling. “Usually, it’s stubborn or reckless. Carlos has been known to call me a brat quite a few times,” he says fondly as he looks down at the bed.

“Because you always get your way,” Carlos rasps out, eyes still closed.

Gabriel isn’t sure who’s gasp is louder, his or TK’s as they both stand to get closer.

“Carlos? Sweetheart?” TK asks, cautious but hopeful, and Gabriel holds his breath as he waits to see if Carlos is genuinely back with them.

It takes a minute, maybe two, maybe three, but slowly Carlos opens his eyes.

“Hi, sweetheart,” TK whispers, tears falling even as he smiles widely down at Carlos.

Gabriel watches as his son frowns as he tries to weakly reach up to touch TK’s face. TK helps him, lifting his hand and holding it against his cheek.

“Don’t – cry, Ty,” Carlos gets out slowly, brushing his thumb under TK’s eye, earning a wet laugh from him.

“I love you so much,” he says to him, and though he’s obviously tired and in pain, the smile Carlos gives TK is the brightest Gabriel has ever seen.

“Love you too, amor,” his son whispers back to his boyfriend, sounding just as hopelessly in love with him. It reminds Gabriel of him and Andrea, and he can’t help the small sound that escapes his throat.

“Dad – “ Carlos says softly, surprised as his eyes find him; they shift back to TK, concern coloring his expression.

“It’s okay, babe. I promise,” TK assures him with a smile as he gives his hand a squeeze.

“It is mijo,” Gabriel tells him, hoping to wipe away the slight fear he sees in his son’s eyes. He never wants to be the cause for that look again.

TK looks over to him, smiling at him reassuringly, and Gabriel remembers what he said to him moments before Carlos woke up. Forgive and be better.

“I’m gonna go find Andrea and a doctor,” TK declares, giving him a nod. He turns back to Carlos, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

TK steps away from Carlos, squeezing Gabriel’s arm as he walks by him before leaving the room, leaving him alone with his son.

Turning back to Carlos, he finds him still looking concerned as he stares at him, and that simply won’t do for him. He shifts over to where TK had been standing, now next to Carlos. “How do you feel?” he questions gently, getting a tiny shrug back.

“Tired,” Carlos gets out, his voice raspy. “Thirsty.”

“Oh! Of course,” Gabriel says quickly, turning to grab the pitcher of water on the bedside counter and a cup. Filling it, he turns back to Carlos, raising his bed a bit before bringing the straw to his lips. “Slowly, mijo.”

Carlos does as he asks, all the while looking at him. After he’s had his fill, Gabriel pulls the cup away, putting it back on the counter. He reaches out to his son, running a hand over his curls like he would do when he was a little boy.

“You scared the hell out of us, kid,” he whispers, swallowing hard as the last couple of days catch up to him. “We were so scared we were gonna lose you.”

Carlos leans into his touch. As he closes his eyes, a tear rolls down his cheek. “Sorry, pop.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Gabriel shakes his head. He takes Carlos’ hand. “These last few days have shown your mom and me how much of your life we have missed, and we’re so sorry.”

“Dad – “ Carlos tries. “I – “

“We messed up, Carlos,” he continues, needing to get it out. “We thought we were keeping things normal by not making a big deal out of you coming out, and instead, what we did was make you believe that you needed to keep parts of your life a secret for us to be comfortable. But our comfort isn’t the most important thing. Your happiness is, and as long as you’re happy, so are we.”

Carlos’ eyes fill with more tears, and Gabriel is struck by how young he seems as he looks up at him hopeful.

“We met your boyfriend,” Gabriel chuckles fondly. “I mean, obviously. He’s pretty special, Carlitos. You picked a good one.”

Carlos laughs. It’s wet from tears but joyful. “I picked the best one.”

Gabriel smiles at the pride he hears in his son’s voice. “We’d like to get to know him, son,” he says. It’s a hope and a request in one. “Your mom and I, we’d like to know him and you,” he swallows hard as his eyes burn. “We love you so much, but loving someone isn’t always knowing them. If it’s okay with you, we’d like a chance to fix that now.”

Carlos stares at him, mouth open, and there is the slightest tremble of his bottom lip.

“Carlitos.”

He and Carlos turn their heads to the door where Andrea and TK stand together. Carlos smiles at his mom, the smile growing when he notices that she’s holding hands with TK.

“Mami,” he says softly.

Andrea walks towards them, tugging TK along with her. Reaching the bed, she reaches out to touch his face. “Baby,” she whispers, shaking her head as she tries not to cry. “Please never scare us like this again.”

Carlos lets out an amused huff, closing his eyes for a second. “I’ll try, Ma.”

“Good,” Andrea grins at him, amused by his tone. “And you better be ready to be smothered for a while. TK and I have been making plans. We’re not letting you out of our sight.”

“We have a shifts chart,” TK teases him, sharing a grin with Andrea.

Gabriel watches with amusement as Carlos looks scared again, this time at the team he sees being created before his very eyes. He laughs, happy and relieved, when Carlos turns to him for support.

“I wouldn’t fight it, kid,” he warns him. “You know how your mother is, and your boyfriend seems just as bad; just accept it. They’re bonded. We all have.”

Carlos looks around at all three of them, the contentment he sees in his son’s expression, a blessing, and Gabriel knows it’s going to be okay. There is still a lot of time that he and Andrea will have to make up for. Conversations that will still need to be had.

But his son is alive; he’s safe, happy, and in love with a good man. He and Andrea haven’t missed it all, and they don’t plan to miss anything else when it comes to their boy ever again.

Carlos grins at him. “I think I’m okay with that, dad.”

Gabriel smiles back. He’s okay with it too.