#I CAN���T EVEN EXPRESS THE PEACE I FEEL SETTLED WITHIN MY HEART

[pocketjoong]

☾₊‧⁺˖⋆noctem⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ 〘act 1, chapter 2〙

〘Synopsis〙『Your hatred of dragons is a hate born of witnessing their flames consume your village, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake. The worst of all is the beast that haunts your dreams, the very dragon whose memory fuels a burning desire for revenge within you. But life has a way of unsettling even the most steadfast convictions. And when you stumble upon a truth that shatters the boundaries of your understanding, you begin to question the very essence of the world you live in.』

〘Pairing〙『Night Fury!Seonghwa x afab!Reader』

〘Genre〙『FANTASY, ACTION, SMUT』

〘Word Count〙『2.5k』

〘Chapter-specific Warnings〙『Based on How To Train Your Dragon. Canon-compliant violence. Mentions of dragons attacking the mc's village. Mentions of fire. Passing mention of injuries. MDNI.』

〘Banner Credits〙『@playmetheclassics』

please note: there will be NO taglist for this series

By the time you finish tending to the injuries of those who had been sent to the infirmary, the sun is rising in the distance. A weariness settles over you as you dress the wounds of the last person you have to tend to, and you look forward to the two weeks of peace after a dragon attack.

You rinse the grime and blood from your hands in the basin tucked in the corner before rushing out of the building. Relief washes over you at the sight of familiar figures at the edge of the cliff that overlooks the port. Even though they’re merely silhouettes against the morning light, you know each of them well enough to recognise them by their shadows.

As you move closer, you note that Yunho, Wooyoung, and Mingi, the village blacksmith, look battle-ravaged and tired. But they are watching the sunrise with content smiles. You approach them with a smile of your own, but you can’t help but scan their figures for any injuries that might need healing.

Amusement dances in your brother’s eyes at your worried expression, “I'm fine. Mostly unharmed save for a few small bruises and the soot lining my clothes.”

When you turn your focus to the others, you find them grinning back at you. “And you guys?”

“No open stitches or any new injuries. I told you I’d be careful,” Wooyoung declares, his tone light-hearted.

Mingi ruffles your hair while he offers his own reassurance, “I’m fine as well. I stuck to my workshop until the very end, only leaving when Yunho and Wooyoung needed assistance with the ballista.”

“Let’s go back home and get some rest. Wooyoung and I have a meeting to attend at the hall in a few hours,” Yunho says, leading you towards your home with a guiding hand on your shoulder. Mingi trails behind silently, waving in farewell before taking the dusty path to reach his house, which also doubles as his workshop.

You, Yunho, and Wooyoung share the house overlooking the village. All three of you moved here after losing your families to a brutal attack years ago. Despite being only a few months older than Wooyoung and barely a year older than you, Yunho seamlessly assumed the role of guardian for both of you. The weight he shouldered at the tender age of twelve, stepping into the shoes of a village leader after the tragedy, often made you feel bad for him. His duties far exceeded what any child should bear, but he bore them with a grace beyond his years.

The dream claws at your consciousness, a relentless reminder of the incident that tore through your family. You can handle the sympathetic looks of your fellow villagers, but the nightmares are another story. You hate them, for they persist, leaving you exhausted and weary even after a full night’s sleep.

You unlock the door, ushering the two males inside. As the door creaks open, the comfort of the space envelops you like a familiar embrace, and you can’t help the sigh of relief that leaves your lips.

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You know you are dreaming, but the panic that grips your throat is a tangible force that twists your heart and leaves your hands shaking. It’s a suffocating reality that is too familiar, too hauntingly real.

Your surroundings are too hot, too bright, and suffused with smoke that blinds your vision. The orange flames dance menacingly in front of you, searing painfully against your skin. Your brain is screaming for you to do something, to move. But you are frozen in the face of danger and struggle to comprehend the unfolding nightmare.

There’s a presence beside you, but the ringing in your ears drowns their voice. Squinting through the smoke, urgency compels you to find an escape route. If you don’t move, you’ll be burnt to a crisp by the flames, and you won’t let a dragon be the reason you meet your end. 

There’s no time to waste, you realise when there’s a crash in the adjacent room. The sound is what finally jolts you into action, and without hesitation, you grab the person next to you and bolt towards safety.

The relief when you escape the fire all but vanishes as the sight in front of you changes, and you find Yunho trapped in the claws of a massive dragon. His desperate struggle mirrors the fear etched in his eyes. The image shakes you to your core. It’s new, and you know why you’re seeing this: every time Yunho is out fighting the dragons during an attack, you can’t help but worry about his safety.

There’s a beat of silence as if the world has stopped around you before you jump towards the creature holding him hostage. But you’re too late. You meet the ground with a crash while the dragon takes off, taking Yunho away from you.

You jolt awake, your heart pounding so hard that you feel it wants to escape your chest. You’re covered in cold sweat, and you feel it trail down your back. You gasp for air, for the relief that comes with your lungs being filled with oxygen. Instinctively, you look down to check your hands, half-expecting to find the remnants of blood and soot on them.

Dazed and disoriented, you rise, stumbling towards the bathroom. Looking into the mirror, you wince at your wide-eyed and tear-stained face. You’re breathing fast, too quick to be considered normal. Staring at your trembling hands, you run them beneath the water before splashing the cold substance on your face.

Feeling a presence next to you, you turn around to find your brother gazing at you worriedly. But before you can ease his worry, Wooyoung walks in through your bedroom door, which is now wide open courtesy of Yunho.

“Is everything okay?” Wooyoung breaks the silence, voice is still gravelly from sleep. You feel bad for waking them up and worrying them like this, but right now, all you can focus on is the raging panic inside of you. “I heard you screaming, Y/N.”

You blink; your throat definitely feels raw, but you can’t remember hearing yourself scream.

“I think it was a bad dream,” Yunho mutters softly, eyes still trained on you.

Dream?

It’s almost as if everything falls into place when you hear Yunho’s words. You had the nightmare once again, the same one you had had since you lost your family during an attack when you were ten years old. With clammy hands, you tightly grip the bedside table in a futile attempt to steady yourself. Stumbling, you crash onto the floor as you try to calm your furiously beating heart.

Yunho scrambles to kneel next to you, brows furrowed in worry. “Y/N, breathe with me, c’mon. ’S okay, you’re safe.” You let him tuck you into his chest, the touch becoming an anchor to help you ground yourself. You breathe deeply, timing your breaths in tandem with Yunho’s. You remind yourself over and over again that he’s safe and sound.

“Was it the same dream?” Wooyoung’s voice is closer now, and you open your eyes to see him in front of you. You shrug as an answer to Wooyoung’s question.

“I’m sorry for waking you up,” you whisper apologetically, but they quickly shush you.

“Do you want to go back to sleep?” Wooyoung murmurs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as if he already knows your answer, “Or would you like to help me with lunch?”

“Brunch,” you declare, carefully disentangling yourself from Yunho, who has fallen asleep. Little snores leave his mouth, and you suppress a giggle. You grab a pillow from your bed, gently supporting his neck to ensure he sleeps comfortably even if he’s on the floor.  Quietly, you follow Wooyoung into the kitchen.

“What are we making?” You question, standing in the middle of the room while Wooyoung rummages through the cupboards.

“How do omelettes and buttered toast sound? Yunho bought bread from the village baker last evening, and I’m sure we haven’t run out of the jam we prepared,” he stops his hunt and starts gathering the things needed for the proposed meal.

“We also have some leftover meat pie,” you inform him, fishing out the pie from the pantry and setting it on the table. Grabbing a large bowl, you crack some eggs while Wooyoung chops the vegetables, the two of you falling into rhythm easily.

Wooyoung reaches over to add the chopped vegetables to the bowl, stirring them with the eggs as you place two pans on the stove. Soon, you have two omelettes sizzling in unison. Carefully, you add different spices and ingredients to each one based on your individual preferences. Spotting extra vegetables, you throw them in a pan to sauté them while Wooyoung handles the omelettes.

“Wow,” Yunho walks into the kitchen, drawn in by the aroma of food. He peeks over your shoulders. “That’s a feast right there.”

Eventually, you and Wooyoung finish cooking and carry everything to the table with Yunho's assistance. The three of you happily devour the food, joking, teasing, and laughing between bites.

“I have to go into the forest to gather more herbs. It’s amazing how fast we burn through them after the attacks,” you sigh, already tired by the mere thought of having to haul a huge batch of herbs from the forest.

“Be careful,” Yunho warns you. “The forest is safe right now, but you can’t be careful enough.”

“Don’t worry,” you reassure with a smile. “I’ve done this so many times.”

After bidding goodbye to the two males, you follow one of the trails behind your house that leads into the forest. You hum a small tune as you walk through the woods. Despite the village being attacked every fortnight, the forest is safe because the dragons avoid lingering for fear of getting captured. The chirping birds and the small animals frolicking around in the undergrowth lift your spirits. You take a deep breath, unable to stop yourself from breaking into a smile.

The sound of a nearby waterfall catches your attention, prompting you to change course towards the opening through the trees. However, you halt in your tracks when you spot broken trees and upturned earth, suggesting that something came barreling down from the sky.

The only thing that would crash down from the sky is a dragon.

Unsheathing your shortsword, you slowly approach an outgrown rock where the wreckage seems the worst. You take a deep breath to calm yourself before peeking to check if you’re right, only to hide behind the rock once again quickly. There, on the other side, is a dragon you’ve never seen before.

It doesn’t take a genius to identify it as a Night Fury, also known as ‘the offspring of lightning and death itself.’ The beast’s scales are pitch black, adorned with small horns that spike from above its eyes, down its neck, back, and tail, the tip of which fans out like that of a whale. Surprisingly, it doesn’t look as terrifying as its reputation suggests, resembling more of a feline than a vicious reptile. For being a dragon dreaded across the seven seas, the beast looks tamer than the ones you’ve come across over the course of your life.

Peeking from behind the rock again, you realise the dragon is tangled in rope. There are signs of struggle, showing that it tried but failed to free itself from the binds. As it seems to be asleep, you approach cautiously, awed by the sheer size of the creature. The dragon likely hears you because, even though it can’t move, one of its eyes opens, fixing a stare at you. It releases a warning growl when you move even closer, but you scoff, knowing fully well that it won’t be able to harm you.

“You know, you really look more like a cat than a dragon,” your tone is belittling as you tilt your head to meet the dragon’s gaze head-on.

The dragon emits what seems like a scoff, earning an eye-roll from you. “You should be nicer to me. After all, I could kill you, and then what would happen, huh?  Your little family would find it harder and harder to attack us, considering that you’re the one who makes it difficult for us to bring down the rest of your kind.”

It hits you that this would be your first dragon kill, and for some reason, it gives you a sense of satisfaction. Eliminating the Night Fury is a step closer towards your goal to avenge your family and the countless others who were destroyed by these beasts.

Raising your blade, you look down at the beast with a blank expression. The dragon gazes at you with big, pleading eyes, its pupils round and sparkly like that of a cat. Your grip on the weapon falters, and sensing your hesitation, it lets out the most pathetic of whimpers.

“You have some nerve, really,” you sigh, the urge to harm the creature gradually ebbs away the longer you look into its eyes. It’s a living, breathing creature, and it goes against all your ideals as a healer to kill a sentient being. “First, your kind kills my family, then you guys literally cause so much damage to my village every time you attack, and here I am, wanting to spare you? Why can’t you be as ugly as a Gronckle?”

The dragon blinks at you in confusion.

“Stop looking at me like that!” You scold it, only causing the dragon to huff, this time in amusement. Sensing that you’re not going to kill it, the beast lets out another whine and closes its eyes.

Sighing once again, you use your sword to cut through the ropes, loosening the bonds that bind the poor creature. That is your second mistake because the moment it is free, the dragon lunges at you, pinning you against the rock as you gasp in shock. It growls at you, keeping you restrained with its claws.

“Oh, isn’t that just lovely?” you mock the dragon. You know you’re playing a dangerous game, but you can’t stop taunting it. “I save your sorry life, and you thank me by pinning me to a rock? Quite the peculiar way to express gratitude, I must say… and quite kinky.”

The beast regards you with a look of sheer disbelief, scoffs dismissively, and turns around to fly further into the forest. Only when it crashes into an outcrop of rocks, do you notice the unsteadiness of its flight.

Is it injured?

Your brows furrow as a pang of worry pierces through your heart, but before you can act on it, the realisation of how late it it dawns upon you. You haven’t even started collecting the herbs you had ventured into the forest for. Deciding to return tomorrow to check on the dragon, should it still be around, you start the laborious task of gathering the herbs you need.

[mycrofts-gunbrella]

Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Mycroft Holmes x Reader (Part Five)

Word Count- 3921

Morning had come around a lot quicker than you had hoped it would, the sunlight peeking through the curtains and birds singing outside making drifting back off an impossible task. Though you felt well rested, you simply just didn't want to move anywhere any time soon. Last night had begun with Mycroft shyly placing his hand on your hip as your back pressed close to his chest, but this morning had ended with Mycroft on his back and you with your head resting between his chest and shoulder, hand crossing over with fingers hooked over the pyjama's pocket. You'd never expected to be the type to wake up earlier than Mycroft Holmes, particularly not two days on the bounce, but you wouldn't complain. He looked so peaceful as he slept, the sunlight turning his auburn hair far more ginger, his freckles on his nose matching. You slowly reached one arm backwards, blindly feeling around for your phone on the bedside table and reading through your messages. You grinned seeing a text from Greg and had to fight the small laugh that threatened to escape you.

'Hey, just thought I'd check in on you both and see how you're getting on. I hate to feel pushy but we do really need to start that paperwork, today ideally. Figured I'd pop round later if it's alright- I need a sodding nap first though. Spent the majority of last night receiving phone calls about mysterious activity around St James', load of dodgy cars sending people away, loads of papers.. don't suppose you saw any of that down your way did you, makes life easier?"

Your fingers typed a response- 'Uhh..guilty as charged.. Myc was in jeans and a Who top, daren't be seen by the public..I'll get him to fix it when he's up x'- a grin playing on your face. Yeah okay you felt a little bad, but Greg had dealt with worse. After pressing send, you scrolled further through your notifications, spotting one from John. Nothing major, just checking in and inviting you both over for late lunch, mentioning briefly how it'll do Sherlock some good seeing his brother, even if he doesn't believe it himself- evidently also receiving a message from Greg as he also explained how it would make Lestrade have to do one less visit for paperwork if you popped over a little earlier. Before you could type an answer, you felt Mycroft shift beneath you, stretching out the arm that wasn't trapped beneath your body.

"Morning Sleeping Beauty." You teased, turning your head and placing a small kiss on the Holmes' chin. Mycroft blinked, rubbing his eyes and offering you a 'good morning' in response as he eyed up you typing on your phone.

"Needed to be whisked away to catch a criminal mastermind already?" He asked, sitting up a little as you moved to give him a little more space, his arm still loosely tucked behind your back, though his torso now free.

"Your deductions in the morning are lacking.. though close. Mastermind, but not criminal. John and Sherlock have invited us to late lunch, Greg's popping over to start the first part of paperwork handling, only the basic stuff this time round, so figured it would make it easier on him only having to go to one home before we left." Mycroft breathed deeply, fingers raising to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"I think I'd have rathered the criminal." He spoke, already mentally planning the afternoon, the conversations he would likely have, the way Sherlock would behave. What if he still hadn't forgiven him? It was surprising enough that you had let him off so easily, but Sherlock was different. Sherlock was a Holmes, and someone of whom already had feudal tendencies with Mycroft, it was bound to end terribly. As though you had read his mind, you moved your hand to take his from his face as you noticed his fingertips whitening as he pinched harder.

"Hey, it'll be fine. He doesn't blame you, he's been far too silent for that to be the case. From the way John sounded, it actually seemed more like he was worried about you, though you know he'd never admit that." Mycroft hummed in response, not being able to find the right words to say before reaching over and grabbing his own mobile. "World ending yet?"

"Not yet. Though with any luck, quarrels could happen before lunch." He mused, one side of his mouth raising slightly in a playful smirk.

"Mycroft you can't wish for conflicts amongst empires to get out of a meal with your brother."

"Can't I?" He raised a brow.

"Anthea wouldn't allow it anyway. We're on strict instruction to not go into work for the next couple of weeks, nations be damned. Lunch sounds far more appealing too." You slid yourself out of bed and grabbed one of the bags from Anthea that you brought upstairs last night, taking a handful of clothing items and tucking them under your arm.

"But it isn't lunch, is it? It's LATE Lunch, settled approximately around 3pm, too late for lunch, too early for dinner. It's impractical by any means; you starve yourself at real lunch so you do not ruin your appetite, and then by dinner time you're hungry once again. And if you eat at both of those times as well as the late lunch, your feeding schedules become on par with a bloody Hobbit." You rolled your eyes and headed to the bathroom. "Though you may be more accustomed to such choices given the height similarity between yourself and Mr Brandybuck."

"Cheeky sod, not all of us have glorious Holmesian legs. I'm sure you'll survive a few hours.. Oh, you also owe Greg an apology." You chuckled, opening the message back up and tossing your phone in the general direction of Mycroft's lap before going to get dressed. After reading the message, you heard Mycroft let out a laugh from the other room, the rare kind that you knew made the sides of his eyes crease and his head tip back slightly in amusement; you were sorry you missed it.

Leaving the bathroom, you couldn't help but notice the silk pyjama clad man standing mindlessly in front of his open wardrobe, glancing over each individual item of clothing. Wandering behind him, you moved up on your tiptoes and peered over his shoulder at the rows of suits. You were still dressed relatively comfortably in a pair of skinny jeans and a t-shirt, which you felt was appropriate for the later meal that would likely be somewhere like Angelo's- but you equally knew that Mycroft's idea of 'comfort' lay within his three pieces, pocket squares and oxfords.

"Don't panic, I'm not going to begrudge you of your precious suits today. You deserve it after actually going through with my wardrobe choice for you.. I didn't actually expect you to do it." You laughed, squeezing his shoulder fondly. "We slept in late again, there's barely any morning left." You commented, glancing over at the clock that read 10:53am. "Can I tempt you in Elevenses, Mr Baggins?" You grinned, your Lord of the Rings reference not being missed by Mycroft. He cast you a playful glare, fighting the urge to childishly poke his two fingers up at you. "What? Not judging my bedside manner this time?"

"It is useless to meet revenge with revenge; it solves nothing." He quoted Frodo without hesitation, bastard probably already planned that you'd quip back with something smart and already armed himself with Shire related comebacks. You, in contrast to Mycroft, did have the tendencies to become childish and did opt for the two fingered response, an adoring smile unnaturally paired.

Not many people got to know of Mycroft's little nerdy side, and you took pride in being one of the few that did, though you took more pride in him for being able to easily reel off the quotes. Though he had told you before that The Lord of the Rings trilogy had been his favourite of everything you made him watch, then when he read the books? You wouldn't hear from him for hours at a time while he binge read through them for the tenth time round, and of course you had noticed the varying editions of the three books on his bookshelf in his personal office, rather than lining the shelves in his small library room. If anything, it just made him more endearing.

Though it was nothing compared with his love of Doctor Who. Bless his heart, you had taken him to watch David Tennant's Richard II a few years ago for his birthday and he was insistent on waiting behind after the performance to catch David leaving and got him to sign his special edition box set of his DW seasons. He even had a photo taken with him, his expression being easily comparable to the likes of a child who just got a puppy for Christmas- and, much to his dismay, the photograph had had a prime place on your desk at NSY since the event.

You made your way downstairs, calling out something about making omelettes and leaving Mycroft alone to get ready. His fingers skimmed across the expensive fabrics, tugging out an olive green suit and red tie and pocket square to match. The smell of the food you were preparing began to fill his nose, making his stomach growl as he rushed to the bathroom to get dressed. After removing his pyjama top, Mycroft caught a glance of himself in the mirror, prodding at the pudge of his stomach that settled just over his pyjama bottoms, before sucking in flat and looking again. Maybe he should forego the omelette and just wait until later.. another growl.. okay maybe just a little, just so he didn't raise suspicion. He sighed, stomach relaxing back to its natural state before finishing his morning routine, tugging his trousers up a little higher than usual to tuck away the offending belly fat.

Mycroft had always suffered with his weight, he knew that. He also knew of his past, how he would skip meals, or spend hours upon hours on his treadmill, or the time he was under Doctor Chinnery for just shy of three years following his habits of completing his meals with his fingers down the back of his throat over the toilet just after his job promotions exceeded and he found himself in much higher rankings- public appearance being far more important than any personal preference. Though his eating disorder had improved, the years of therapy didn't miraculously improve his self-confidence. It was one of the many reasons he preferred inviting others for dinners, or at the very least having his days to himself when he knew he would be going out later in the evening. Spontaneous meals out like the one he would be attending in a few hours, or having somebody at home with him while he waited for said meals threw him off balance completely- his usual routine of fasting beforehand as to not appear rude or raise suspicions when he ate in public being disturbed significantly. You knew of his past, deduced it, actually, and had been nothing but supportive, trying your best to convince him for years that he was perfectly healthy and encouraging him to eat better, to actually consume meals. He was thankful, of course he was, but it didn't help his insecurities around you, no matter how welcoming you had been or however many compliments you gave him. His body was covered in stretch marks and areas of loose skin from his weight loss over the years, his chest hair, though scarce, was a coppery ginger and his body was covered in so many freckles he looked like an explosion at a dot to dot factory. It led him to remember the other reason why he had never previously attempted to pursue a relationship with you; if he was disgusted and horrified at the appearance of his nude body then what on earth would you think when that time eventually came around? He daren't even try to imagine your face. You'd worked with Sherlock long enough to have seen him wander around naked and Mycroft had to admit that his brother at least had a body worth parading about in the nude, then there was Gregory who, despite not having an exactly chiseled body, still had the rugged good looks and toned chest- a physique that clearly represented the physical aspects of his occupation- there was no doubt you'd compare him to them and he would come up short every time.

"Myc? You gonna be long? Yours is going to be freezing!" Your voice had knocked him out of his thoughts and he quickly shrugged on the rest of his clothes, straightening his tie in the mirror and plastering on a small smile as he headed downstairs and into the kitchen.

"Apologies.. the cufflinks failed in succession to cooperate at first." You had eyed him suspiciously, knowing that Mycroft had worn enough suits in his lifetime that he could probably find a way to put one on to completion in 5 minutes in the dark with oven mitts on.

"I know I've been so against the suits, but I have to admit that you look incredible.. I think that one's my new favourite." You commented casually, placing a quick kiss to his temple as he sat at the table. "That colour is lovely." He quirked a brow.

"New favourite? You've had old ones?"

"Obviously." Imitating Sherlock. "Charcoal pinstripe with that light blue shirt- brings your eyes out wonderfully... and your bum." You winked, positively enjoying the pink that dusted the man's cheeks, and the way he would open his mouth to speak and then close it before any words came out. In his defence, he was really not used to receiving such compliments. And in your defence, you weren't particularly used to giving them, not like that anyway. You'd blame Greg, he was a terrible influence and an incredible flirt- using his charm to at the very least try and make you laugh when you had shitty days.

You lay his plate in front of him, a coffee to its side, before beginning to tuck into your own meal. You had learned early on that if you didn't wait until Mycroft was able to eat then he likely wouldn't eat at all. While drinking his coffee fairly happily, you hadn't missed that the vast majority of Mycroft's breakfast was still on the plate, cut in smaller pieces and rearranged to appear as though he had eaten more than he truly had. Frowning, you didn't press- knowing better than to point out his behaviour and just being thankful he had eaten anything at all (about a third of the omelette and half a slice of toast if your judgements were correct) but had elected to keep an eye on him. You finished your own food in silence before crossing the cutlery over on your plate and beginning to speak.

"I figured if we left now we could have a bit of time for you to go through the first set of paperwork, Greg should be getting there in the next 10 minutes or so, and then by the time we finish and have a cup of tea it'll be time to go out." You suggested, taking Mycroft's plate to clear away after he had sent a nod to show he was finished. He made a small groan at the need to go at all, but soon acquiesced, sent a text for a car and stood to go to the front door. Tugging on a hoodie, you opened the door and took a step back, the wind shooting in your face and making you scowl. Mycroft made an amused sound and offered you the scarf of his that you had worn last night. Rather than taking the garment, you stood and waited for him to wrap it the same expert way that he had the night before. "I also text Greg to run by my flat and grab my coat so I'll be able to stop stealing your expensive scarves soon.. though this one feels so lovely I may text him again to leave it on the tube." You laughed, stepping back outside once again and walking with Mycroft to the end of the road where a car was waiting. Mycroft had wanted to respond, to make a comment about how he didn't mind letting you wear his things, how he actually quite liked it. But he stayed silent, offering a small smile instead and a soft hand at the small of your back. Mycroft opened the door for you, climbing in after and settling against the plush seats of the lavish car.

As the car began to move you tensed a little, a thought popping into your head.

"Myc.. does Sherlock know yet? About us? I might have hinted at it a little when I spoke to Lestrade earlier but I didn't press.. I just.. I didn't know if you were telling people." You asked awkwardly. Christ it made it sound like you were in some forbidden relationship. Mycroft's jaw clenched a little.

"I wasn't aware it was secret knowledge, if that's what you are asking Y/N. In response to your question, no. I haven't spoken to Sherlock at all since.." He trailed. "And I am not the sort of man to walk into a room and actively announce that kind of thing. But you should know that he will likely deduce it the moment we walk through the door being as you are wearing my clothing, your hair smells like my shampoo and your skin still has traces of the scent of my soap. So if you didn't want anybody to know, then I strongly suggest we rearrange our plans for this afternoon." Who was he kidding? Of course you didn't want people to know that you were actually together now- you would look ridiculous being such a pretty young woman with a man like Mycroft in tow. You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off. "If you are going to say you could argue the soaps then it would simply be futile, he knows I have your regular brand at your disposal; he'd know you used mine in the form of... sentiment." The last word felt wrong on his tongue now, knowing you had hoped to keep your.. relationship.. behind closed doors. Mycroft Holmes was a very private man, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't want knowledge of your relationship to be at least semi-public, having felt a little giddy when you'd chosen to cross that line with him.

"What? No, I wasn't going to talk about the sodding shampoo." You grinned, reaching a hand over to place on his knee. "Jesus Myc, I asked because I didn't know if YOU were comfortable with people knowing. I'm pretty sure everyone inside that flat knew I fancied you the last few years, I'd proudly walk in and show that my pining eventually paid off. I just know you have appearances to keep up and I didn't want to ruin that, or embarrass you in front of Sherlock." For what seemed like the millionth time in the last few days, your words surprised Mycroft. He felt his jaw loosen and he took a breath, moving only to briefly place his hand over yours for a small squeeze and moving back again. You didn't expect him to say much, he was Mycroft Holmes, not Romeo Montague, but the small smile you sent back his way let him know that you understood his thoughts. The drive to Baker Street was only 10 or so minutes from Mycroft's home so you soon arrived in no time at all, the slick black car smoothly pulling up outside number 221.

"I can only hope my dear brother deduces our relationship correctly and doesn't make a vast attempt to embarrass me in front of his peers.. again." Mycroft knocked on the door, his words casting you back to a Christmas you had all shared a couple years ago.

It was a small gathering, consisting of the pair of you, the Baker Street boys, Greg and Mrs Hudson, and a few weeks beforehand, after multiple arguments of whether or not presents should be shared, Mrs Hudson had come up with the wonderful (terrible) idea of secret Santa which, incase you wasn't aware, isn't a fun game when played with two Holmes' that knew everybody's present and Secret Santa before the packages were opened. You had pulled Mrs Hudson and couldn't have been more thrilled, neither could she when she opened her new tea set- a simple floral design decorated its sides, but she was thankful no matter the pattern, the last teapot having been found at the hands of Sherlock housing human eyes. Conveniently enough, Mycroft had pulled your name and elected to subtly buy you a personalised travel mug for work. After you had opened it, Sherlock had scoffed, muttering something along the lines of "Mycroft isn't that shit at buying presents. He bought you a necklace at first but felt too embarrassed to give it to you in such a public setting and panic bought that cup." Continuing on about how Mycroft had put a lot of thought into your original gift and how it was unusual and how it "obviously" meant he favoured you and was attracted to you. Mycroft had left shortly after that, not making eye contact with any of the silent people in the room and climbed into the back of his car, but you had followed suit and clambered in after him- easing the tension by ignoring Sherlock's allegations and giving him the envelope that you had in your pocket. You had told him you had bought him something special anyway, even though he wasn't who you were supposed to buy for, because you cared for and appreciated him- he had opened the envelope slowly and his eyes widened, that rare smile appearing on his face when he was presented with the Richard II tickets. After your exchange Mycroft had given you the necklace anyway, spouting derogatives about his brother's deductions as he did so. It was a small silver chain necklace with a sparkling silver pendant that, upon closer inspection, you had noticed was a police badge.

You smiled fondly at the memory and instinctively placed your hand above your sternum, feeling the small piece of metal beneath your clothing that you hadn't taken off in two years. You turned to face the man beside you a little more, placing a hand on his shoulder and reaching up on your tiptoes to place a lingering kiss on his lips, moving back only when you heard the latch unlock in front of you, and noticing the ever so slight pink tinge to Mycroft's bottom lip from the lip balm you had put on earlier. "That should make it easier to get it right." You commented, fighting the small grin from your face as you noticed Mycroft standing in the same way, lips parted slightly from where your own had been moments ago, a matching pink dusting his cheekbones. The door opened revealing a smug looking Sherlock.

"Be careful Mycroft, you'll catch flies like that if you aren't cautious enough."

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 11

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: Nope! Notes: Here we are, a breath away from the end. This features not one, but FOUR songs written by myself. If you only choose to listen to one of them, listen to the final one (Cradle of Heaven), as it is a duet I wrote specifically for this fanfiction, as something that the reader wrote to play together with Daniela. The links to these songs will be within the fanfiction itself, at relevant times. Past Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco, Pt. 6: Elegy, Pt. 7: Harmony, Pt. 8: Obbligato, Pt. 9: Berceuse, Pt. 10b: Hymn AMAB

Chapter 11: Cadence

(Cadence: Two chords that mark the end of a song)

The stage is set, the lights are dimmed, your heart pounds within your chest, and the world is yours. Soon, it will be Daniela’s. She is right by your side, as ever, hand gently taking hold of your own. There’s a silent reassurance in her grip, a reminder that the two of you have overcome a plethora of challenges. A promise that this will be no different. Both of you take a deep breath, in sync, before exchanging a quick kiss. All of your hard work has been leading up to the coming moments. Although you are beyond confident in your lover’s abilities, there is a shadow of doubt in the back of your mind. Not for her sake, but surrounding the expectations held by her mother, the standard against which you would be measured.

“Come hell or high water, Songbird, I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise,” Daniela whispers, squeezing your hand again, eyes unblinking as they stare into yours. “You’ve made every right choice, worked harder than anyone I know, and there is nothing more I can ask of you… except another kiss to celebrate afterwards, that is.” Giggling in response gives you the moment you need to relax, nerves fading into the background of your mind. “Now let’s put on a show the likes of which my mother has never seen, mhmm?”

THREE HOURS EARLIER:

“Here, you can borrow my brooch. It’s been in the family for generations, since before we even came to the village, passed down starting with an ancestor who crafted it himself, from materials he scavenged while fleeing his home country,” Daphne rambles, helping you attach the jewelry to your shirt. Thankfully, her hands do not tremble nearly as much as yours have been for the past hour. “I’m more than sure that Lady Daniela will tell you this much, but I feel the need to repeat just how good you look right now. I don’t know where the hell they’ve been hiding this version of our uniform, but damn do I wish I could get one for my next date with Ygritte. Seriously, if you can get one in my size, please do me that favor.”

“Anything for my best friend. Especially after all the times you’ve saved my ass these past few months,” you reply, pausing to give her shoulder an affectionate pat. If not for her constant interference running, someone would have certainly found out about your relationship with Daniela. “Speaking of that… of my life being on the line, I mean… no matter what happens today, no matter what Lady Dimitrescu decides, take care of yourself. You’ve gambled with your own blood to keep me safe, but what I’ve done, what I’ve risked, those were my choices. My consequences. The last thing I’d ever want is for you to pay for them, somehow.”

Rolling her eyes, Daphne gives you a playful shove to the chest, before smoothing out the fabric of your dress uniform. Now she refuses to meet your gaze, a familiar mistiness taking over her brown eyes.

“Nobody around here is stupid enough to think you’ll die today. You managed to get Lady Daniela, of all people, to stay focused long enough to learn some absolutely beautiful pieces of music. You have proved, time and time again, that you are a talented musician, teacher, and ‘servant’. So get out there and kick some metaphorical ass, my friend, because you are ready,” she finally says, offering you what seems to be a handshake. But as soon as your hand meets hers, she’s pulling you in for a hug, holding you tight for a solid minute. When at last you part, you give her what may very well be the last smile she’d ever see gracing your lips.

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

A hand’s edge against xer forehead, parallel to the ground, kept perfectly flat. From anyone else, it would be mockery. From xer? Honest salute, solidarity in a traditional form, accompanied by a sharp-toothed grin. Mimicking the expression, you wave at Ava, glad to see that xe would be awake for your concert. After your first night with your girlfriend, Daphne had helped arrange for someone to be your “cover story” for sleeping outside of your usual quarters. With Daniela’s input (and jealousy), only one candidate had revealed themselves, in the form of a (conveniently) mute butler with an inconsistent schedule, love of mischief, and somehow the respect of the Dimitrescu family. Now, xe appeared ready to escort you to the location of your trial by fire.

“Are you sure our mutual friend won’t be upset to see the two of us together?” You teased, knowing full well that Ava was one of the only people that Daniela trusted 100% around you. In response, xe gives an exaggerated shrug, then quickly links xer arm with your own. Together you march onwards to your destiny, amused by the way xe practically skipped down the hallway. Maybe there was a certain wisdom to xer shenanigans, a carefree philosophy that encouraged laughter in the face of death, and you embraced the thought with a smile.

Before long, however, the two of you encounter another unlikely pair headed towards the same destination: Lady Cassandra, looking somewhat embarrassed, with an unfamiliar maiden at her side. Their hands are clutching each other desperately, although neither of them dares to look at the other. Instead they both watch you closely from where they’ve paused in the corridor. Oddly unfazed, Ava gives them a short bow of acknowledgement, earning xer a brief nod from Cassandra. Seeming eager to move on, she addresses you quickly before gesturing for you to keep walking.

“Good luck. Don’t fuck this up for Daniela, or I’ll never hear the end of it,” she growls, doing her best to downplay her obvious concern. Wanting to let her keep up with her facade, you merely give a nod as you resume walking towards the concert stage. Soft footsteps behind you let you know that the strange pair are accompanying you. Still walking alongside you, Ava repeatedly glances behind you, putting out xer hands in the shape of a heart, giggling all the while. If you didn’t know any better, you would almost assume that xe wanted to get hit by Cassandra.

“Ava, please calm down. If you’re not careful, she’ll throw something at you. If she does that, you’ll probably dodge, and then I’ll probably end up getting hit, and then I’ll miss the concert, Lady Dimitrescu will kill me as punishment, Daniela will be sad and whiny about it, and none of you will have any peace for, like, a month. Three weeks, bare mims,” you tease, nudging xer in the ribs. Emphasizing a pout, xe sends one last look at Cassandra and her ‘friend’ (whose hand she was still holding onto like a lifeline), mouthing words you couldn’t parse. Based on the way Cassandra groans, it was something ridiculously cheesy. Regardless, xe behaves the rest of the way there…

ONE MINUTE TO SHOWTIME:

“I love you, Firefly, and I know that you’re going to do absolutely amazing out there. I’m so proud of you,” you murmur, pressing a feather-light kiss to Daniela’s cheek. As dearly as you wish to stay behind the curtain, in her arms, you know that the show was inevitable. With one last nod to your beloved, you part the fabric shielding you, stepping into the spotlight. Imaginary crowds grow hushed at your appearance, a sea of faces greeting you warmly. In truth, there are but five members in this audience, each gazing upon you with veiled interest. Donning you best presentation persona, you set this final act in motion. “Lady Dimitrescu, Lady Cassandra, Lady Bela, and Mx. Caldwell, it brings me great pleasure to present to you, on this day, a concert performed by your own Lady Daniela. For three months now I have acted as her instructor, and these three months have been, perhaps, the most rewarding of my entire life. I could not possibly be any more proud of her than I already am. Now, without further ado… let us begin!”

Stepping to the side, a tug of a rope has the curtains parting entirely, revealing your beloved, waiting ready at the piano. All at once your audience (including Cassandra’s partner, acting as a mere servant in the background) sits up with wide smiles. They look Daniela over, taking in the sight of her fanciest dress, and the way her eyes light up with joy. By the time her fingers begin dancing away at the keys, there is not a single ounce of anxiety in your entire soul. This first song is a relic from your past, a representation of an abandoned idea, yet she plays it like a celebration. It’s fast, hits hard, a bold take right out of the gate. Admittedly, it is also somewhat short. Nonetheless, it serves its purpose, igniting a spark of excitement in those present. Once the song ends, Daniela is surprised by the intensity of her family’s applause. In the back of her mind, she trembles with excitement, knowing that the best was yet to come.

Riding this wave of pride, she immediately settles into the next song, something slower but far grander. Affection thrums inside your chest as you watch your pupil perfectly execute another piece. You can only imagine what her mother must be feeling, to see just how far her daughter has come in such a short amount of time. A quick glance in Alcina’s direction reveals the barest hints towards her being impressed. For now that was enough to satisfy you. Soon enough her face would twist in surprise, as the second song ended, and a new face steps up onto the stage: Lady Bela. Wordlessly she retrieves her violin from the back of the stage, then turns to the front with a mischievous smile.

“Now, a duet! Presenting the ever-talented Lady Bela, to join Lady Daniela for a rendition of an original song, dubbed ‘Northern Lights’. Enjoy!” You call out, before once more taking your place at the side. While Daniela did not need you to count her in for her solo performances, this feels ever so slightly more important, and as such you do your best to conduct for the duration of the song. If either of the performers need it, they hide it well. Honestly, you weren’t sure if your girlfriend had looked your way even a single time so far. ‘Twas incredible to witness her. Akin to a siren, near glowing, taking to the stage as if born to grace its center. Even with Bela working her own magic, Daniela is ever the star. Together they weave a lovely song, notes rising high into the air, swirling around an enchanted audience.

When it ends, both performers give a bow, as if the entire affair had come to a close. Without hinting at what was to come, you switch places with the eldest Dimitrescu daughter. A deep breath rattles your ribcage as you find your center, reaching out to take Daniela’s hand, the two of you raising your arms upward in a display of union. For the first time this evening, Lady Alcina narrows her eyes in what feels like disapproval. But you pay her no mind. Instead you sit alongside your beloved, quietly settling into your practiced position.

There is no introduction for this song. No announcement, no showmanship, nor even a countdown into the symphony. Simply, like exhaling a breath, the two of you start to play. Your phrases echo hers, and vice versa, calling and answering, accompanying all the while, natural as anything holy in the wild. ‘Tis the second shortest song of the night, only long enough to showcase the degree of your partnership with Daniela. As the song crescendos into an ending, you manage to meet the gaze of your employer. Perhaps it is merely an illusion of hope, or a reflection of lights above, but you swear you see tears in her eyes.

“Outstanding, incredible,” she praises, rising to her feet alongside her other daughters, clapping all the while. Once again you rise to your feet, hand clasped with Daniela’s, bowing as deeply as you can manage. Before you can even process what’s happening, your girlfriend is being pulled away from you, swept up into the arms of her mother. Desperation digs like a knife into your heart, as you ache to celebrate with her, but you remain ever in the guise of a professional. “You did amazing, my dear. I cannot begin to describe how proud I am.” The family gathers around each other, buzzing with affection fit to make the hardest of hearts melt. You are left on the outside, awkwardly waiting, without a hint of acknowledgment.

Even if this concert was a measure of your skill as a teacher, Lady Dimitrescu had never bothered to consider you more than another servant. This night was about Daniela. About your secret girlfriend, the brightest star in all the skies. That is not something that bothers you, nor does it surprise you. All that makes you wish to weep is the desire to kiss her. To sweep her into your arms, with celebratory kisses, singing her name as a praise to higher powers. In the end, it takes several minutes for Daniela to pull away enough to move back to you, and even then she cannot give you the reaction she yearns for.

“I’ll come by to talk to you tonight, I promise,” she whispers, as she gives you the weakest hug you have ever felt. Then she is returning to her family, clinging to her mother with a massive grin. Soon enough you are left alone on stage, quiet surrounding you, mixed feelings gnawing at the pit of your stomach. Something feels… wrong. You cannot put a name to it. No one has hinted to you what your beloved has planned, for none but her even have a clue. As soon as she is alone with her mother, as soon as she has the smallest sliver of an opportunity, she knows what she must do. “Mother… we need to talk. I... I have a confession to make.”

[obae-me]

Oh The Horror

Mammon/Reader, Mammon/MC, fluff

Word Count: 1461

Note: Is my formatting ever the same? Not really. But I had to write Soft Mammon so I hope extreme cuddles distracts from that enough. 

Curses, hexes, witches, ghosts, monsters of all sorts, literal hell, and yet the second most powerful pillar of the Devildom couldn’t stomach horror. It was something you still had a hard time comprehending, but after time you just learned to accept it. Anything that was even remotely frightening had Mammon screaming within seconds. Of course, whenever you were around, he tried his best to keep his composure, but he still flinched and clung to anyone within reach like his life depended on it. 

It was so bad, his brothers didn’t even bother to use horror as a tactic to get revenge. Often. 

He’s getting better, you thought. Tonight you, Satan, Mammon, and Levi all sat together and watched an old human classic. The Grudge. Initially, Mammon hadn’t even been invited to the movie night, solely because he wouldn't be able to take it. But his stubborn nature and somewhat big head had him announcing that, he was the Great Mammon, he could handle a human movie. 

He couldn’t. 

Within the first ten minutes, he was stuck to your side and quite literally trembling. His siblings shook their heads, the slightest hint of sympathy--mostly for you--in their eyes before they allowed themselves to focus on the screen. It was difficult for you to pay attention however, when the self-proclaimed Great Mammon was a fearful mess. This hadn’t been the first time this had happened for sure, but it had been the first time he stuck to you rather than running for his brothers. It...was heartwarming. You wrapped your arms around him and rubbed his back, assuring him that he was okay. Luckily, he wasn’t aware of Satan’s and Levi’s growing irritation, their eyes flickering back to you and him in jealousy that he was getting all the attention. A loud scream made Mammon shout in return, his posture shrinking as he leaned partially in your lap. He stayed that way for the whole movie, hiding his face in your shoulder, not even watching the film anymore. 

And you thought that had been the end of it. 

He acted up a big game for sure, despite his shaky voice, saying that it hadn’t been that bad. Then he left rather quickly, speeding off to Diavolo-knows-where while you were dragged into an in-depth discussion with the remaining demons. They’d adored it, Satan getting into the nitty gritty of cinematography details while Levi was thrilled with the Japanese culture. You didn’t have many comments. The subject at the forefront of your mind was Mammon. He will be fine by tomorrow, you figured. 

Soon, all of you went to bed. Before you could rest easy, you shot Mammon a goodnight message, your eyes refusing to shut till he texted back a simple ‘night.’ It still seemed off, although maybe it was just your paranoia. So before unease could keep you awake, you shut off your lights and settled under your covers. 

“M...MC...MC…” Someone woke you up as they kept calling your name, your shoulder gently shaken. You turned in bed, blinking as you reached towards your nightstand lamp. It blinded you for a second when it flicked on, your eyes adjusting to the new brightness. Mammon was in your room, wearing a white t-shirt and yellow shorts. 

“Mammon? What time is it?” You rubbed the sleepy layer of sleep off your eyes, your vision a bit clearer. He was crying, shaking, barely keeping himself together. You shot up in bed. “What’s wrong? What happened?!” 

“S-shadow...s-saw a...in my--in my room,” he shuddered, shallow tears drifting down his face as his white hair tried to cover his eyes. Just the sound of his broken tone left you devastated. 

“You got scared?” You didn’t sound condescending or disappointed, you came across as gentle and affirming. Mammon nodded his head, shifting his weight to each of his feet as he couldn’t stand still. “Mammon…” You pulled back some of the blankets, outstretching your arms to him. “Come here.” 

Who knew what it was that drove you to such actions? Your still half-asleep brain? Your hidden feelings for him coming into view? His vulnerable nature unlocking some sort of instinct? You didn’t know, but it didn’t stop you from going forth with these impulses. 

He collapsed into you, arms wrapped tightly against your torso. Whimpering, he nestled his face into the crook of your neck. You let him cry a little bit longer, letting him release pent up emotions as you stroked the back of his head, playing with his smooth strands of hair. “I’m sorry you were scared, but it’s okay. Do you want to stay with me tonight?” His body slowly stabilized as he sniffled, nodding against you. “Then how about you clean up your face and turn off the light?” You prodded at his sides and a short breathy laugh bubbled out of him as you hit his ticklish spots. 

He sat up, grabbing a few tissues from the box by your bed and drying his face, a few comically loud blows of his nose almost made you chuckle. Hesitantly, he reached for the light. As soon as he turned it off, he lunged for you, the weight knocking you back against your pillow. He curled up against you, his legs rapidly entwined with yours as his head rested on your chest. He was uncharacteristically quiet as he listened to your heartbeat, using the pace to match his breaths. Leaning a bit forward, you kissed his head, gently raking your fingers up and down the skin of his back as you lightly scratched him, sending shivers down his spine. 

“Maybe don’t watch horror movies right before bed,” you suggested.

He sounded muffled against your body, the vibrations of his voice sending a pleasing sensation through your body. “I can...do what I want,” he muttered, the tsundere act much weaker than usual. “I’m notta baby or anything…”

“Not a baaaaaby?” You teased, watching him blush and turn his head from you. “Baby, baby boy, baby Mammon,” you continued, feeling him growl. 

“Stop it already...you can’t just go sayin’ that…” 

The heart in your chest pounded rapidly for a minute. Mammon felt it and nestled his face into you again. He soaked in your affection, his shudders resembling purrs in his chest. You’d doubted he had ever had a moment like this. To be completely vulnerable without fear of being mocked. You brushed away some of the strands from his forehead to look at his face. Bewilderment. Embarrassment. Most of all, peace. It was like he’d found some new sort of treasure that rendered him speechless; a treasure so radiant that he could do nothing but observe and take it in with an awed silence. He adjusted his head with a little moan, one of his hands gripping at the fabric of your sides.

And in the swell of it all, you couldn’t help yourself. “I love you.” 

He stiffened, his breath coming to a halt as he moved from your chest to the pillow, his face right next to yours. Even in the dark of night, you could tell he was blushing, you could feel the heat radiating from his cheeks. The sparkle of greed flickered past his eyes. “What did you say?” 

“I...I said I love you,” you answered, brushing your knuckles against the side of his face, one finger twirling around his ivory hair. Then he kissed you, a little peck against your face. 

“Say it again?” 

A little confused, you humored him. “I love you.” 

Another quick kiss against your cheek. “Again.” 

“I love you.” 

A kiss against your forehead. “Again.” 

You giggled this time. “Mammon, I love you.” 

One kiss over each eyelid. “Again!” 

You started stating ‘I love you’ over and over and over again, Mammon giving you a new kiss for each one, littering your shoulders, your face, your neck with all sorts of little pecks. His greed was too much for you, so you gave up quickly, descending into soft laughter as you held the sides of his face in your palms. His watery eyes shimmered a beautiful cerulean in the moonlight. You rubbed your thumb over his cheekbone, pleased to discover that his eyes were dry. He sighed contentedly, or as contentedly as the demon of greed can, a strange expression on his face. 

It was his turn to caress your cheeks, the bottom of his lip quivering once before he gently pressed his lips against yours. “I was scared…” He paused for a second, and you thought he was about to describe whatever thing he had seen in his room, but instead, he surprised you, kissing you once more. “I was scared I’d never hear you say it...I love you too.”

[marshmallow-phd]

Gravity

Genre: Angst, Unrequited Love

Pairing: Junmyeon x Reader

A/N: This was basically just a therapy write. 

**

What is worth? It is neither tangible nor seeable. It doesn’t have a body or a shell. Yet, the endless chase to catch it, to hold it captive, is a never ending disease that eats away at the brain and tears apart the heart. It’s only descriptor is feeling. A judgement. Something either is or isn’t. When it's an object in question, the call for worth is passive, innocent. It’s wanted or it's not. The deterioration comes into play when the worth is applied to a person. 

Kim Junmyeon was worth the world. 

With a smile that could chase away a storm and a heart too good and pure for the human populace, he was truly worth more than the world. He was worth more than you deserved. 

Not only was his face kind, but it was handsome. Beautiful, even. Candid photos were museum worthy masterpieces. There was a gentleness, a softness to his eyes and cheeks that contradicted the sharpness of his jaw and the strength of his body. His laugh was infectious and his mind as vast and deep as the ocean. The sum of his whole was worth so much. 

But you were not worthy of such a person. You weren’t as stunning as a sunset over the mountains or as extraordinary as a new discovery. You were simply… you. Staring from afar, admiring but never touching. 

You wished you could be worthy. You wished you could be special enough - good enough to be with him. Pretty enough would be something decent to settle for. But you were invisible. A person on the sidelines. Out of the spotlight. You were an admirer - not one to be admired. 

“You’re doing it again.”

You blinked, your attention torn away from the spot where Junmyeon was standing, laughing and chatting with a few of his seniors. Kyungsoo, who sat to your left at the small table in the entertainment building’s cafe, didn’t even look up from the script he was currently reviewing. He’d only been given it the day before and was still considering if he wanted the part that was being offered to him. 

Your gaze dropped to the opened yet untouched notebook lying in front of you on the somewhat sticky surface. Someone must have spilled their syprup-y coffee and didn’t do the best job at cleaning it up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Without moving his head, Kyungsoo looked at you over the rim of his glasses. Even though you were sure you were nothing more than a blur to his eyes at the moment, he could always see right through you. “If you keep staring at him like that, you’re going to give yourself away.”

The ultimate nightmare. The humiliation of being found out. The sweet but awkward rejection that you knew would follow. With his laugh still ringing in your ears, you forced yourself to tune Junmyeon out. 

Pushing his glasses up his nose with his middle finger, Kyungsoo straightened and closed the script. “We can go somewhere else, if that would help.”

You wanted to argue no. That you weren’t a coward. That you weren’t going to run and hide simply because you looked at him like he was the night sky while you were stuck on the ground. You used to have better control of yourself. You used to be able to hide it better. But lately, it had only gotten worse. 

And you were a coward. 

“Yeah. Maybe one of the practice rooms is empty.”

“There’s usually one.”

After gathering up your things, you followed Kyungsoo out of the cafe, stealing a final glance. Junmyeon didn’t so much as twitch in your direction. It wouldn’t have been surprising if he hadn’t even realized that you were there in the cafe for the past half hour. 

Kyungsoo settled into one corner of the worn navy blue couch while you squeezed into the other. Not speaking a word, he went back to reading the script. That was a nicety of your friendship. Comfortable silence was more than readily available when needed. He didn’t push or give unasked for advice. He was an ear to listen and a presence to take in when you didn’t want to be alone. 

You stared down at the notebook in your lap where your next story ideas were supposed to be filling the pages. But nothing was coming out. Not even the vague pictures you’d had earlier this morning. The only things being called to the paper were the sentences held in the invisible tears you refused to shed. Words of wishes and frustrations swirled around inside the tiny droplets, every letter as heavy as lead. Your cruel mind kept echoing at you the conversation that had constricted the air in your lungs. 

Two days ago, you’d accidentally overheard a drama staff worker jokingly say that Junmyeon and his current co-star seemed awfully close, more than merely friends. Stomach lurching, you ran to the nearest bathroom. Nothing came out but almost fifteen minutes of deliberate breathing had gone by before you emerged again. Kyungsoo was quick to dismiss the comment after barely three words from you. The effect, however, still lingered. 

Despite the history of your intrusive thoughts, you wanted to believe that you could be good enough. That you were worthy of being beside someone like Junmyeon. His co-costar was stunning, even in real life. Someone who didn’t need photoshop to draw out gasps of awe and astonishment. Someone you most certainly couldn’t compete with in any race. 

You weren’t asking for much. Just to be able to hold his hand, your fingers interlaced between his own. The fantasy you allowed yourself to indulge in at times wasn’t a grand gesture or a modern fairytale. You wanted simplicity. The smaller moments that could mean so much. Mundane, to some eyes. 

Warm sun rays leaked through the closed blinds over the living room windows. A clock on the wall ticked away the meaningless minutes. Sometimes soft music hummed in the background, sometimes there was nothing but silence. Junmyeon would lay across the length of the couch with you wrapped around his side. His fingers would absentmindedly caress your shoulder or arm. In his other hand was a book, held open by his thumb and pinky. Your own hand drifted through his hair while he read aloud. 

The two of you had dozens of endless conversations about books. About the ones you loved and the ones you hated. About deeper meanings and the reflections of life. His love of literature - from the celebrated classics to the obscure unknown - had been what initially drew you in. Everything else was what made you stay.

A muscle in your hand cramped. The peaceful scene faded from your eyes. The page was now filled with barely legible, ink-smeared words. You’d written the entire scenario out, along with your heart, without even realizing it. 

In a panic, you ripped the paper from its spiral hold, crumpled it up, and tossed it to the trash can across the room. It missed. 

“I doubt whatever you wrote was that bad,” Kyungsoo murmured. He read the final few lines of the script and closed it. 

“It wasn’t,” you admitted bitterly. “But I shouldn’t have written it.” You described the scene to him while your eyes stayed trained on the loose thread twirling between your fingers. 

He sighed. “You’re never going to tell him, are you?”

“I can’t.”

“You can. You’re just stopping yourself.”

You scoffed. “Why would I deliberately set myself up like that? Break me the rest of the way?”

Kyungsoo stared at you, long and hard, his expression blank to those who couldn’t read the tell-tale signs that his thoughts were in overdrive. “You’re really hurting, aren’t you?”

You sniffed, though no tears were yet forcing their way to the surface. “Most days.”

“Then walk away.”

“I can’t.” Your voice broke - just like your heart. The world blurred when you shook your head. “I can’t… simplify it. But-- It’s like I was this stupid lump of rock drifting aimlessly through space, content with my life. Then suddenly, I came across this brilliant star that shined so brightly and… we collided. And now I’m stuck in his orbit. But he just keeps on spinning while my whole world had changed completely. He’s… my gravity. I don’t know anything else anymore.”

“Maybe it’s time to find your own orbit.”

Afraid it might crack again, your voice was barely a whisper. “I don’t know how.”

The door creaked open and your heart leapt. Junmyeon stuck his head inside. Had he overheard everything?

“There you are! I turned away for a second and suddenly you two weren’t in the cafe anymore.”

He’d… He’d seen you? In the cafe?

“It was too loud,” Kyungsoo lied, covering up for you like he always did. 

“It’s always too loud for you,” Junmyeon teased. Then his face morphed into that leader-esque expression. “We need to head to rehearsal. You’re welcome to join us,” he nodded to you.

“No, that’s okay,” you said quickly in response. “I have a writer’s meeting.” No, you didn’t, but space felt like the right choice at the moment. You tried not to focus on the lack of disappointment coming from the direction of the door. 

“Maybe next time.” Junmyeon slapped the side of the door. “Let’s go, Soo.”

You were actually the first one on your feet, muttering goodbyes to both of them and then walking down the hall perhaps a little too fast. 

You didn’t allow your mind to think the whole way home. Every action was done in automatic mode. Only the minimal amount of awareness was used. But when the apartment door clicked behind you, when the near darkness wrapped you up, when the silence crept in and the empty couch mocked you… you broke. 

Knees buckling from under you, the cold hard floor came closer and you didn’t leave that spot just inside the room as the tears and sobs crashed out in waves. 

This was what you hated the most. The breakdowns that came with no excuse. They were built up by your own mind, by your intrusive thoughts. You tortured yourself with what you could never have. The attacks were random and it was only recently that you had learned to hold them in long enough until you were safe within your own walls. One time, you hadn’t made it. Kyungsoo had been there to pat your shoulder. 

Kyungsoo. He was right. 

That clarity was coming through as the tears dried and your breathing evened out again. You needed space. You needed to separate yourself from what wasn’t good for you and not see him. Not even have the temptation to. 

This was going to hurt like hell. 

**

The office somehow looked smaller with the bare walls. Since the day you moved in, you tried to liven it up, give it character, make it reflect the interests you loved. How were you supposed to write if this place felt like a stifling corporate desert, dry of any creativity?

Not that you ever actually wrote in this twelve by eight space. This place had been reserved for meetings and other usually boring necessities. You didn’t know the next time a budget meeting or an email check would be conducted here. You could be back in a few months and move back in as if you never left. Or someone else could take over. Only time would tell. 

The box that currently had your attention was nearly full. You’d have to come back for the rest. There wasn’t much left, anyway. You took another look around to see if there was anything else you could do at the moment. The monitors were black, the tower underneath - so much smaller than the one you’d had as a kid - was powered off, and the chair that was aligned just so to your favored adjustments was pushed into the gray desk. Saying goodbye to this place really did hurt. 

But you needed to do this. 

And yet, you felt like you were drowning, being dragged deeper into the black water. Your lungs were screaming for relief. 

“You’re really leaving?”

Your shoulders stiffened. At first, you didn’t look up at him. You weren’t sure what to say to him. Being here… it was the last place you expected him to be today. Kyungsoo would have told him, but you wouldn’t have waited around for him to appear. 

“Hi, Junmyeon.” You folded up the top of the box, overlapping the pieces so it would stay shut in transport. 

“I thought you liked it here?”

“I love it,” you confessed. “But I- I need to go home for a little while.”

“Are you homesick?”

“Something like that.” Definitely some version of sick. 

He nodded. “Will you be gone long?” His eyes drifted over the holes in the walls leftover from the frames that used to hang in front of them. 

“I don’t know.” You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. This was…. You should go. Pushing your fingers under the box, you started to lift it to take it home. 

“Do you have to go?”

The question stalled you. Confused, the box went back down on the desk. “Why are you here, Junmyeon?”

He shrugged, though it didn’t shake off the stiffness in his shoulders. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, his arms all the way to his wrists covered up by the sleeves of his shirt. Lately he had been rolling them up. You wondered what had changed today. “You’re our friend.”

Friend. 

Friend. Friend. Friend. 

The word rang over and over like a declaration of war. Our friend. 

The smart thing to do would have been to nod, say goodbye, and leave. But - instead - you opened your mouth. 

“I will always be your friend.”

That didn't make him smile like you would have thought. “So, then why do you have to leave?”

You rubbed your eyebrow, fighting within yourself. You lost. 

“Have you ever had a friend so head over heels for someone that won’t even look at them twice? But they don’t care? Because as long as the person they’re looking at is happy, then they’re happy. Even if your friend is completely miserable in the process. Because they no longer care about their own self. They just keep looking at the other person, doing anything that entails that they’re still happy.” You swallowed thickly to try and keep your voice steady. By your sides, your hands were trembling at this roundabout confession. “And you want to shake them. You want to tell them to get out. Because as long as they stick around, they won’t look at one else. No one else exists. Well, this is me. Getting out.”

The frown on Junmyeon’s face deepened as he let your words sink in. “Who is it? Will you tell me?”

No. Because this was enough of an admittance. Because it was time to find your own sense of gravity. 

So, without a word, you picked up the box and left the office. 

Waiting for you when you came back was the scene you had written in the practice room that day, flattened out but still wrinkled as it laid on the desk. 

[rafael-silva]

under the sky and stars: a tarlos fic

When Carlos and TK take a weekend off to go camping, the last thing they were prepared for was their mini vacation getting cut short by the untimely activation of what’s said to be TK’s danger magnet.

*

What starts as a peaceful day is turned on its head when TK is hurt during their hike. Cut off from help and with no cell service, Carlos and TK work together to keep the younger man awake and getting the injury under control. They lean on one another, sharing memories, voicing confessions and finding comfort within each other along the way.

for bad things happen bingo: tarlos + cauterizing a wound

hurt tk strand, worried carlos reyes, major character injury, whump, angst, hurt/comfort, emotional/hurt comfort, injury description, softness, kisses, comfort

11.1k | rated T | on ao3

*****

When Carlos and TK take a weekend off to go camping, the last thing they were prepared for was their mini vacation getting cut short by the untimely activation of what’s said to be TK’s danger magnet.

Because, well, camping in the middle of nature, miles away from the city and with fluctuating cell service…what could possibly go wrong?

This particular camping spot was near and dear to Carlos, one of his all-time favorite locations. He’s frequently visited this very spot countless times with his family growing up, setting up their tents together, Carlos and his sisters looking for firewood while hiking and then building the bonfire, laughing and creating many memories along the way.

It had been a while since Carlos went camping there, mostly due to his busy schedule, juggling hectic shifts and long days, along with some days off, so he can spend as much time with TK as possible.

And once he was reminded of that spot by the memories feature from his photos app, popping up a selfie of the Reyes family from a few years prior on a hike, a thought crossed his mind. A very good thought. And he suddenly couldn’t contain his excitement at the possibility lingering in his mind.

He and TK were cuddling on the couch after a mutual exhausting never-ending day, both of them stumbling into their home within ten minutes of each other, weary to theirs bones. After a quick shared shower, they settled on the couch and into each other’s arms, drawing comfort from one another and watched a movie in comfortable silence.

“Have you gone camping before?” Carlos’s voice sliced through the quiet, his tone soft.

TK takes a moment to think, revisiting his own memories before nodding. “Yeah, a couple of times. When I was younger though, went camping in Upstate New York, once with mom and dad and the other time with just dad,” he replied, slightly intrigued by Carlos’s somewhat random question.

“So, there’s this camping spot,” Carlos had started explaining, running a hand up and down TK’s arm. “I used to go there all the time with my parents and sisters, especially growing up. It was kind of our safe haven, it had quickly became our spot and I was thinking that we could go camping there one weekend. I’d love to show it to you and share it with you,” he expressed.

TK moved so he’d face Carlos instead of having his back against the offer’s chest, and there was much emotion written in his features, his green eyes glued to Carlos’s brown ones.

“That place means a lot to me, and you mean so much to me, TK,” Carlos added. “It’s part of who I am, and I want to share everything that I am with you.”

TK’s eyes remained on Carlos, his expression soft.

“Of course, if you’d want to go camping, that is.”

TK lightly chuckled, nodding and moved closer to Carlos. “I’d love to. I mean, I’m not really big on camping, just because it wasn’t super easy to do while living in the city, but I’d do anything with you. Even if we were going to a random spot, I know I’ll love it. And the fact that that spot means so much to you, of course I’d go with you. I look forward to getting to know that side of you, Carlos Reyes.”

Carlos’s face had broken into a big, bright smile, his eyes twinkling. He returned the tender kiss TK brushes to his lips and leans into the paramedic’s touch when TK cupped Carlos’s cheek.

“Besides,” TK began with they separated, “one of us should know what they’re doing when it comes to camping.”

Carlos had nodded, agreeing. “Plus, we’ve both been working so much and so hard lately, I feel like we’re running on fumes and a break could really help us. And nature is a great healer.”

“Nature and love,” TK added before giving Carlos another kiss.

After managing to take the same weekend off, and Carlos calling his father asking to borrow his truck for the trip, Carlos and TK make a list of everything they need for the three days. They split it between them and each get what they’re responsible for by the agreed time.

The weekend approaches quickly to both their delight and that’s when Carlos and TK find themselves on the road, TK’s road trip playlist blasting through the speakers as Austin disappears in the rearview mirror.

And Carlos, Carlos smiles, stealing a quick glance at TK when they stop at a red light. The younger man is so at ease, leaning back against the headrest and Carlos’s heart swells with even more love for him. TK turns to look at Carlos, an identical smile on his face.

Excitement sizzles in Carlos’s stomach at the thought of creating even more memories with TK during this trip, and at one of his favorite places, too. He already starts to feel better, feeling the tension leave his body. Both he and TK had been looking forward to getting some peace, to recharge their energies and to spend more quality time together.

But TK’s said danger magnet was waiting in the corner, getting ready to strike and to throw them both a painful and unexpected curveball.

They arrive at the camping spot a couple of hours later. Carlos parks the truck at the end of the trail and switches off the ignition, excited to be back to this spot. It’s so beautiful that TK pauses his movement to get out of the car, looking through the window and taking it all in.

Carlos hops out, closing the door behind him and stretches his muscles. Their early start had been in their favor, the sun still hanging high in the sky above them, which tells Carlos they’ll have time to set everything up and walk around for a while before it gets dark, too.

TK follows Carlos, gazing around and the amount of green merging with the blue of the sky and the birds twittering around them takes his breath away.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Carlos says, standing by TK’s side.

TK nods. “Absolutely breathtaking.”

“Come on,” Carlos takes TK’s hand and begins walking further into the tree line. “It’s on foot from here, but it’s not too far in. But be careful,” he warns. “Some of the ground is really slippery and there are a lot of hills. Took a tumble once and sprained my ankle, I do not recommend the experience.”

TK tightens his hold on Carlos’s hand as he leads them through bushes, branches and tree barks, closely following Carlos’s trail.

After about an eight minute walk, they reach a clearing with even, dry ground and large open space.

“Here we are,” Carlos announces.

“Wow,” TK says, tilting his head upwards to look at the tall trees above them. They cast a shadow down at the campsite, but don’t completely obscure the sun, its golden light shining through the branches.

TK can feel the history here, the years it took for these tree to grow and flourish like this, and for the first time, he feels one with nature and he welcomes it. He closes his eyes, the soft wind colliding with his face and he draws in a deep breath, relishing in the fresh, clear air.

“It’s like all your worries wash away when you’re here,” Carlos’s voice brings TK back from his thoughts.

“I feel lighter already,” TK agrees.

But the spell is broken when TK groans and shoos away a mosquito. And Carlos mirrors him when he hears buzzing near his ear.

“Bug spray is in the bag, let’s get everything set up and we can walk around for a bit,” Carlos says.

After sending off texts to their parents that they’ve safely arrived (which had taken some time while they searched for a spot with sufficient cell service), it takes Carlos and TK two trips to bring everything they need from the truck to the campsite. They start with setting up the tent in the middle, and TK being completely out of his zone here, helps when Carlos asks, doing exactly what the officer tells him. Carlos is an expert as he works, his muscles and mind working together, knowing exactly what to do and what goes where, not missing a beat. The tent is set up in record time (based on TK’s knowledge and how often people say it takes forever to set up a tent) and TK wears an impressed expression.

Carlos chuckles at the look on TK’s face. “Learned to set it up during the summer I was fourteen. My father had told me and my sisters that we were setting up our own tents that time. It wasn’t easy, it took a lot of time and more than a few collapses, but eventually, the tent held.”

“Well, practice makes perfect,” TK smiles, planting a kiss to Carlos’s cheek.

“And sweat, a lot of sweat,” Carlos adds.

TK chuckles, opening their cooler and takes hold of Carlos’s reusable water bottle, handing it to him.

“Thank you,” Carlos gratefully accepts the bottle and takes a long swing of the cold water.

They move around in unison, TK retrieving the sleeping bag and undoing the zipper so it’s flat and lays it on the ground inside the tent then covers it with their duvet and places their pillows at the head of the tent.

Outside, Carlos arranges their sitting area, gathering the blankets that have been designated for camping. His mother had left them at his place a couple of years back, for whenever he’d take solo trips. He spreads the blankets around where the fire would be built then grabs the foldable chairs, arranging them behind the blankets.

“We have enough time for a walk before it gets dark,” Carlos says when TK emerges from the tent. “Everything else can be set up when we’re back, and we’ll get wood for the fire, too.”

TK nods. “Sounds wonderful, babe.”

Carlos grabs his compass and map, pocketing both for when he’ll need them and takes TK’s hand, and together, they stride into the endless greenery.

*****

The sun is setting when they return to the campsite, each of them carrying an armful of wood.

“These should last until tomorrow,” Carlos says, dropping the logs near the place for the fire.

TK does the same and awaits Carlos’s instructions.

Carlos kneels down and starts arranging the logs then looks up at TK. “Can you grab me the lighter fluid and matches?”

TK nods and goes to retrieve the items. A chill is starting to set in the air around them at the loss of the sun’s warmth and TK can’t wait to get cozy by the fire. He also grabs his hoodie while he’s at it.

He hands Carlos the medium sized bottle of lighter fluid and watches as his boyfriend pours some over the wood. Once he’s closing the bottle, TK lights a match and drops it over the fluid, the fire immediately igniting.

He slips on his hoodie and settles on one of the blankets, looking over his shoulder at Carlos when he hears rummaging from behind.

He smiles when Carlos shows him the bag of marshmallows and wiggles his eyebrows.

“Camping just isn’t proper camping with marshmallows,” Carlos declares as he sits next to TK, the bag in one hand and slim wooden sticks in the other.

He hands TK the bag, who promptly opens it and accepts a stick from Carlos. They both sear a marshmallow through their sticks and hold it over the open fire.

“Now, there’s an art to roasting marshmallows,” Carlos starts. “To get it crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. You can’t hold it too close to the flame and you have to keep rotating it so its evenly roasted.”

TK nods and does his best, but he pouts when the marshmallow completely burns.

“It’s okay, baby, it takes a few tries to get it right,” Carlos reassures him.

TK eats the burnt marshmallow and shrugs. “Soft on the inside though. Well, more like melty. And hot!”

TK tries again and again, and when his fifth marshmallow is still burnt (not as badly as the first one, but still burnt nonetheless), he shakes his head and laughs.

“And I thought I’d be good at this because I used to roast them over the stove growing up,” TK sighs.

Carlos’s eyebrows travel up his forehead and he’s shaking his head. “Not the same as roasting them over a campfire, definitely not the same,” he chuckles.

“Yeah, I’m learning that the hard way,” TK dramatically sighs again.

“Here,” Carlos hands TK his own stick with a perfectly roasted marshmallow. “You should have at least one that’s properly roasted.”

TK lightly elbows Carlos in the stomach and playfully rolls his eyes. “Okay, this is amazing,” he admits after eating the marshmallow.

Carlos smirks. “Besides, like you said earlier, practice makes perfect. So I guess we have no other option than going camping a lot so you can perfect your marshmallow roasting technique.”

“Hmm,” TK hums as he moves his face closer to Carlos’s. “Yeah, I guess that’s our only option,” he whispers.

Carlos smiles as he closes the small distance between them by capturing TK’s lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Carlos tastes a mix of TK and burnt marshmallows, and the combination makes his heart jump in his chest with joy; further proof that Carlos isn’t dreaming, they’re here, together in one of Carlos’s favorite places on the planet. TK easily opens to him and they pour into each other. TK’s free hand goes to the back of Carlos’s head as Carlos’s goes to hold TK’s face.

The kiss slows down, turning into a simple press of lips and they start exchanging small, chaste kisses before separating to catch their breath. They don’t pull back completely though as Carlos rests his forehead against TK’s.

They’re lying on the blanket a little while later, TK cuddled to Carlos’s side, after it was agreed that they’d had enough marshmallows for the time being. Otherwise, they’d get a sugar rush and neither wanted to experience the crash from that. Besides, they still hadn’t eaten the dinner they packed for the night.

Carlos had grabbed his zip up hoodie and slipped it on before lying down, the wind picking up a little and a shiver ran through his body. Once they’re both warm, both by clothes and each other’s presence, silence falls onto them, the leaves rustling around them the only sound as they watch the stars glitter above, vivid against the endless black sky.

“You can never see the stars this clearly in the city,” TK says in a quiet voice.

Carlos nods, not entirely sure if TK means New York or Austin, but he supposes both, because it’s true either way. He had heard about the light pollution in New York and how it obscures the night sky and its beauty, and from his experience living in Austin, the same can be said for the Texan city.

“There’s beauty in every direction you look here, it’s all encompassing. Left, right, up, down…you’re surrounded by it, you’re a part of it. There’s a lake this way,” Carlos points to their left, turning to face TK. “Me and my sisters used to go swimming there, the water is so blue and so clear and it’s the perfect temperature. We can take a dip before leaving, if you want.”

“Oh, but I don’t have my swimming suit,” TK points out.

Carlos doesn’t reply, instead he lifts a suggestive eyebrow as a smirk tugs on his lips.

“Ohhhh,” TK catches on to where Carlos’s head is at, and a blush paints his cheeks.

The nearby fire dances, the flames coloring TK’s skin golden and bringing out the green in his eyes. Carlos winks and the light pink rises up his boyfriend’s face and TK’s lips spread into a soft smile.

“Well, then, I couldn’t refuse that now, could I?” TK wiggles his eyebrows and moves closer to Carlos.

The beauty of the stars is momentarily forgotten as Carlos watches TK, getting lost in his features, taking it all in even though he can draw every detail in his sleep. He feels his heart grow in his chest with the amount of love he feels for the other man, gazing through green gates and into his soul, he’d willingly get lost in those irises for days.

Without a word, Carlos leans in and captures TK’s lips in a soaring kiss, giving TK his all and gladly receiving TK’s as the paramedic wastes no time in reciprocating.

“I’d come here alone, sometimes,” Carlos voices a few minutes after they return to their previous position. “When I was older. Sometimes my family would be busy and wouldn’t be able to make the trip, other times it was unplanned. I’d need to get away for a few days, and I’d find myself here. When things would get hard or overwhelming, this place was always there for me. This place offered me a lot of clarity over the years, opened my eyes to many things. Helped me dig deep into myself and really know who I am. Because here, in the middle of all this beautiful nature, that wasn’t so scary. It was almost like nature was telling me that it’s okay, that whatever happens, it’s all going to be okay, that it’s all just that, natural and organic. And eventually, whenever I needed to make a decision or when I just needed to think, I’d come here.”

TK waits a beat, fingers fidgeting with the zipper of Carlos’s hoodie and then asks a question. “Did you ever come here to find clarity about…me? Or us?”

Carlos is silent for a few moments before nodding. “Yeah, after you got shot,” he swallows, his mind taking him back to that horrific week.

He tightens his hold on TK, unconsciously needing to know that TK is okay, that he’s with him, right here, right now.

Then something clicks in TK’s mind. “When you texted me that you were leaving town for a couple of days, you came here.”

Carlos nods. He had sent that text a week after TK was out of the hospital and recovering at home. He had seen him a couple of times since his discharge, each time his emotions and feelings towards TK growing and bubbling more in his chest. And after making sure TK was really okay and was taken care of by his team, he had decided a trip was needed.

Falling for TK was unexpected, it had taken him by surprise and so did the amount of feelings he’d quickly developed for the other man. He needed to gather his thoughts and to process it all. He thinks back to those couple of days, pacing the ground for what seemed like hours, his mind going in a million different directions. It’s only when he sat down and looked up at this very sky, that he really started seeing everything, truly seeing.

Carlos draws in a deep breath before continuing, looking up at the sky now. “Like I told you that day at the juice bar, seeing you in that hospital bed was very hard, and all these strong feelings I had for you, they really took me over. I’d been out of the dating game for so long when I met you, and I never expected to fall for you as quickly as I did. And although I had felt it blossoming in the days and weeks before you got hurt, I truly realized just how much I felt for you when I found out you got shot. And then when I saw you lying in that hospital bed, that feeling of my heart dropping into my stomach and that pang in my chest,” he pauses, “…it scared me, the strength of the feelings scared me, the thought of losing you and losing everything we could be before we even truly began terrified me,” his voice breaks a little with the last few words.

TK finds Carlos’s hand and gives it a light squeeze.

Carlos recovers and continues. “And then you woke up and got sent home and every time I saw you, the feelings just grew and grew and there was no stopping it, not that I wanted to stop it. But I still didn’t know what we were, and I didn’t want to push you, knowing what you had gone through. I guess I just needed to process it all, it had all jumbled together and I needed to untangle it. So I came here, because this place always helps with that.”

“And what did you realize?” TK carefully asks.

Carlos turns his head once more so he’s looking at TK. “What I knew was true all along, that what I felt for you, all those feelings, all that love, was natural and organic. Cosmic, even. I realized it came from the deepest of places, the brightest and purest of places, it came from the soul, from the bottom of the heart. And that realization felt right, it felt good. I remember smiling then because I felt lighter, I felt like that realization breathed fresh air into my lungs. And I wasn’t scared anymore. I was hopeful. I knew this love was worth fighting for.”

TK is quiet for a while, letting everything Carlos said sink in, and the flickering flames reveal the unshed tears swimming in his eyes. Carlos’s words had been so honest, so vulnerable and it moves TK, fills him with even more love for Carlos.

“So, in a way, this place had brought us together,” TK expresses.

Carlos nods. “Which is one of the reasons I wanted to bring you here.”

“It really means everything, you sharing this place with me,” TK runs his thumb over Carlos’s knuckles. “I also realized what I had known all along that day of the solar storm, after the bus rescue and on the way to the hospital. I was scared, too. Getting into something and starting a relationship was the last thing on my mind when I got to Austin, but that connection to you, that pull between us, it felt right from the very start. I resisted it, though, I did, because I was still dealing with everything that happened in New York. But that day, I realized I wanted to deal with everything with you, with you by my side. I was learning to stand again, I knew that was something I had to do on my own but I wanted you to be there for me to lean on when I needed it. You gave me strength, Carlos, every day, and you continue to. You brought color back into my life and I knew then I wasn’t scared anymore. And you’re right, our love is cosmic and worth fighting for. It’s always under the sky and stars.”

Thinking back to that night, lying on the hood of the Camaro under the Northern Lights, the moment they really gave them a chance and started the journey of everything they would become together, TK smiles.

Carlos makes the connection, as well, mirroring the soft smile. “The sky and stars really do have a way of bringing us closer. Our love being cosmic sounds particularly appropriate.”

A gentle kiss is shared as they move even closer together, gravitating towards each other, always in each other’s orbit.

The tent goes forgotten as they fall asleep under the stars, wrapped in each other’s embrace, blanketed by the comfort of their love.

*****

If TK is distracted by watching Carlos, who’s wearing a tank top and sweat shorts, stride around the campsite while he gets their breakfast ready, well, who can blame him? TK’s eyes find themselves glued to Carlos’s biceps and the way his muscles contract and move under his skin, making TK miss the words Carlos is directing at him.

Carlos pauses, lifting an eyebrow. “TK? Earth to TK?”

“Hm?” TK snaps out of his trance and eyes go to Carlos’s face, which is just as captivating.

Carlos chuckles lightly. “Welcome back.” Then he’s smirking. “Like what you see?”

He gets it, though, knows the power of the tank top. Because he, too, loves it when TK wears his own tank tops, and Carlos finds himself in the same position TK was just in.

A blush crawls up TK’s neck and face as he bites down on his low lip, his eyes roaming over Carlos’s majestic form. He nods after a few moments.

“You’ll do,” TK playfully teases.

“Oh, is that it? I’ll do?” Carlos whispers, his tone a little heavy and low as he takes tentative steps towards his boyfriend, the smirk still drawn on his face.

“Yeah,” TK nods again, his eyes not leaving Carlos’s.

TK smiles against Carlos’s lips when the officer leans in for a kiss and returns it, his body filling up with warmth at their contact.

“Come on,” Carlos says when they pull apart. “We gotta have a good breakfast because we have some exploration ahead of us today. And other activities, too,” Carlos lifts an eyebrow and winks at TK.

They keep up their flirting and playful banter throughout breakfast, and once they’re finished and Carlos had gathered the stuff they’ll need and packed it into his backpack, they start their journey into the woods, Carlos leading with TK close behind.

The first couple of hours go by smoothly. Carlos shows TK a few of the spots he would frequent when he’d visit here, telling him stories along the way and sharing the memories he’s built with his family. He snaps pictures of TK here and there, some while he wasn’t looking, others with TK posing along with a bunch of selfies of them wearing big smiles.

They come to rest at a clearing, deciding to take a break before continuing their hike. Carlos finds a large rock to sit on, taking a few sips of water before his eyes find TK. The other man is roaming around, looking up at the trees and taking it all in. He comes to a halt on an elevation, looking into the distance and doesn’t realize he’s right on the edge of a hill.

Carlos’s face falls a little when he notices where TK’s standing, and he’s about to tell him to take a few steps back when TK himself turns around and starts to move towards him.

Carlos’s newfound relief lasts for only a brief second as he watches TK stumble. He quickly gets to his feet, moving to help steady TK while a little voice at the back of his head supplies slippery mud, but it’s too late.

For a moment it feels like an out of body experience and in an instant, he’s running to TK. It takes a second, but before he reaches him, TK looses his balance and falls, Carlos’s eyes going wide and his heart drops into his knees as it happens.

Carlos freezes, arms stretched out, heart hammering and eyes glued to the space TK occupied a second ago. He was right there, within his reach and then he wasn’t.

The image of the panicked look on TK’s face and his green eyes blown wide with fear will forever be etched in Carlos’s mind.

He swallows and finds himself at the edge a moment later as he looks down. It’s a nasty fall, even though it’s not a drop but a slope, the steep angle surely would have increased TK’s speed as he rolled downhill. The area it’s littered with rocks of all sizes, and TK’s body would most definitely be bruised and battered by the impact against them.

Carlos yells out when he finds his voice. “TK! TK! Hang on! I’m coming for you!”

The panic in his gut starts brewing even more at the lack of a response from TK.

Carlos weighs his options, and a quick survey tells him there’s no other way to get to TK except down this slope. He takes a deep breath and very carefully starts making his way towards where he’ll find TK.

He almost slips a few times during his descend, tree leaves crunching under his hiking boots and his feet sinking into piles of leaves and small bushes. He keeps calling out for TK on his way down, still getting no reply from the other man. Carlos tells himself he has to get a hold on the panic rising in his body, he feels his hands begin to shake and wills them to steady. He needs to be composed to help TK, to get him out of this. TK is relying on him.

That knowledge gives Carlos the strength he needs and he gathers himself, letting out a small sigh of relief when the ground appears to even out before him.

Then his eyes land on TK, who’s sprawled out on his side, his back to Carlos. And he isn’t moving. And Carlos can’t tell if he’s breathing from this angle.

Carlos’s legs move on their own accord and he’s sprinting towards TK, dropping to his knees next to him. His eyes run over TK’s face and head, where he finds a cut under his hairline that’s oozing blood down his face, and his usually neat hair is filled with torn leaves and covered in dust. He watches TK’s chest closely next, and lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when he spots the rise and fall there, although shallower and shorter than he’d like, but TK is breathing.  

“TK? TK, babe, can you hear me?” Carlos speaks, his voice coated with worry.

With TK still unconscious, Carlos starts doing what he could: check TK over for any visible injuries on the rest of his body.

And he most definitely was not prepared for what he found. He couldn’t stop the sharp gasp that tears from his throat when his eyes land on a large, jagged open wound on TK’s right thigh. There’s blood gushing down his leg and dripping into a puddle beneath the paramedic, a stark crimson staining the rock below.

“Shit, shit,” Carlos mumbles and breaks himself out of his haze.

He knows he shouldn’t move TK until he’s sure there’s no spinal damage, but he also needs to apply pressure in hopes of slowing down the bleeding and the only way to effectively do that is to have TK lying on his back.

Knowing it’s his only option and the best chance TK has in this moment, Carlos very gently and carefully, while supporting TK’s body and carrying his weight, repositions TK and then clamps both hands over the wound and pushes down as hard as he can, putting all his weight into it as he prays that it isn’t the day he loses the love of his life.

He knows deep down it won’t do much good because he can already feel the blood seeping through his fingers. TK’s blood. Carlos’s stomach churns in an unnatural way and he has to squeeze his eyes shut and attempts to get his irregular breathing under control.

It seems, however, that the pressure does achieve something because Carlos is quickly opening his eyes when he hears a sharp painful gasp. The adrenaline, that same small voice at the back of his head supplies once more.

TK is haphazardly moving his head from side to side, eyebrows knitted together with confusion. Carlos easily finds TK’s wide eyes, filled to the brim with panic and fear and does his best in comforting and calming his boyfriend.

“TK, TK, hey, hey, look at me, look at me,” Carlos guides, trying to get TK’s attention.

The erratic movements eventually slow and TK focuses on Carlos through his blurry vision, tears springing into his eyes. He blinks a few times, trying to clear his line of sight sending a couple of tears down the sides of his face.

“Carlos…” TK whimpers through clenched teeth, reaching out for his boyfriend and closing his fist around the material of Carlos’s tank top, holding on with all the strength he could muster.

“I’m right here, baby, right here,” Carlos is quick to reassure him. “Stay with me, TK, hang on.”

“What…what happened?” TK asks when he gathers his breath.

“You fell down a hill, probably slipped on some mud and lost your balance. You were unconscious when I found you and you have a cut on your head and I think you could have a concussion. Can you wiggle your toes?”

After a moment, TK nods, knowing why Carlos is asking.

“Okay, good. But…”

“But?” TK questions and manages to lift himself to look at where Carlos’s eyes had landed.

TK gulps, seeing the wound and the alarming among of blood he had already lost and tries to keep the sizzling panic at bay. He knows panicking won’t help, that he needs to remain calm.

TK groans, pain flaring through his leg and making him a little dizzy.

“I think a piece of wood punctured your thigh and then broke away. I’ve been trying to slow the bleeding but it’s not working very well,” he explains, his voice filled with the panic he’s trying to suppress.

TK is silent for a few moments and Carlos fears he fell back into unconsciousness. But then TK is speaking, clearly having slipped into paramedic mode in those few seconds.

“Okay, we need to make a tourniquet, hopefully that will help slow the bleeding until we get help,” TK says.

Carlos nods, thinking back to what they have in their backpack. His heart drops some more when he realizes they don’t have anything for a tourniquet. Besides, the backpack is up that hill and there’s no way Carlos is leaving TK alone.

Making up his mind, Carlos takes off his tank top and looks to TK for instructions on what to do next.

TK frowns. “What…”

“This is everything we’ve got.”

TK nods, no time or energy for arguing. He already feels weaker and his head is starting to spin. But he evens his labored breathing, not only trying to access his own body for internal injuries but also to be able to properly tell Carlos what to do. He’s not alone, Carlos is here, and they can do this, together.

“Okay, you need to find a strong stick, it needs to be thick so it doesn’t break when it’s twisted to tighten the tourniquet,” TK tells Carlos.

Finding a stick in the woods, should be simple enough, Carlos thinks as he looks around, still in his position and applying pressure to TK’s thigh. Once he spots a stick that could work, he takes hold of TK’s hands and guides them to the wound, pushing them down there.

“I need you to hold pressure while I do this, TK. Can you do that for me?” Carlos asks and once he’s sure TK has complied, he moves to retrieve the stick.

TK gives it his all. He’s scared, and he doesn’t want to die, he doesn’t want to bleed out on this hill in the middle of the woods. He doesn’t want Carlos to have to watch it happen. He doesn’t want to ruin what this place means to Carlos. He doesn’t want to miss out on spending the rest of his life with Carlos. So he fights against the darkness creeping at him from the corners of his eyes and gives it everything he’s got.

But he’s tired, he’s so tired, and his hands momentarily stop working. But a voice reminds him to stay awake, stay awake…

Carlos can tell, that as expected, TK’s strength is faltering by the way more blood is running free down the paramedic’s injured leg. So he does his best to keep TK awake and talking until the tourniquet can take over in controlling the bleeding.

“Hey, TK, stay with me,” Carlos pleads. “Tell me, what’s next?”

TK nods. “Loop…loop the shirt above the wound and then place the stick over the loop and tie a knot,” his voice trails off.

Carlos follows TK’s instructions, his hands working quickly to do as TK says.

“Then…rotate it and the knot is going to tighten,” TK continues using a shaky breath. “It should help control the bleeding.”

“Okay, you ready?” Carlos asks, his worry filled eyes moving to TK’s face, knowing how much tourniquets hurt when they’re applied.

TK draws in a breath and nods.

“Okay, here we go,” Carlos starts twisting the stick and his heart clenches and shatters some more at hearing the throaty and pained moans that TK lets out.

The younger man’s eyes are squeezed shut, face crunching up in agony as the groans keep spilling from his mouth.

It works, and Carlos can see the bleeding is substantially slowing down.

“It’s working, it’s working,” Carlos sighs, closing his eyes for a few moments and taking in a deep breath, his shoulders slumping forward.  

And now it’s time to figure out where they ended up and how to get back to the campsite, into the truck and to the hospital as fast as they can. Carlos knows the tourniquet isn’t a permanent solution and he’s worried about infection setting in.

He fishes his phone from his pocket and prays for even one bar of service, but disappointment settles in his stomach at the words no service glaring at him from the top of his screen.  

He sighs, turning back to TK.

“Hey, TK, still with me, baby?”

TK gives him a weak nod.

“Listen, I have to go back up to get the backpack, you need to hydrate and the map and compass will help us get back to camp,” Carlos explains, hating that he has to leave TK. “I need you to keep holding the tourniquet in place, to make sure it doesn’t get undone. I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“Be…careful,” TK replies, closing his hand over the stick when Carlos places it there.

“I will be,” Carlos responds and leans down to brush a kiss to TK’s forehead.

It takes every inch of strength Carlos has to pull away.

“I’ll be right back, baby.”

Carlos rushes back up the hill, trying to be as quick but as efficient and safe as he possibly can, not wanting to leave TK alone for long. He faces some difficulty climbing up but manages to avoid slips and falls.

He’s panting when he finally makes it to the top, grabbing a hold of the backpack and then stops for a second. He pulls his phone out again, praying for service and rejoices at the one bar of service he finds.

He puts the phone to his ear and his heart thumps in his chest as he waits for it to connect. After what feels like an eternity, it starts ringing, and another lifetime after that, Owen picks up.

“Owen?” Carlos speaks, his voice tight. “Owen, can you hear me?”

“Carlos?” Owen replies but his voice is so far away.

“Owen, we need help,” Carlos continues, praying that Owen can hear him over the line scratching between the words.

“Carlos—you’re breaking—can’t—”

Then the lines goes dead.

A glance at his phone tells Carlos the one much-needed bar of service is gone.

“Damn it,” Carlos growls with frustration, shoving the phone back into his pocket.

He’s back at TK’s side a few minutes later, and finds his boyfriend barely holding onto consciousness.

“Hey, TK, I’m back,” Carlos announces, kneeling next to TK once more.

He notices that TK’s hold on the tourniquet has loosened a bit so he tightens the knot to control the bleeding again and his heart sinks at the almost lack of response from TK.

Shock, that voice in his head speaks again. He needs to get TK out of here right this moment.

“TK, you with me?” Carlos says as he digs out the compass and map.

TK mumbles something in return.

“Good, stay with me, baby. Didn’t I tell you that I don’t recommend tumbling down a hill? You had to go and try it yourself, huh,” he attempts to lighten the mood with their familiar playful banter but doesn’t quite succeed, his voice coated with fear and worry.

“Take it up with that hill,” TK murmurs back.

A short wet chuckle escapes Carlos, at least TK is doing his best to reciprocate. It’s a small victory in the battle to keep TK awake.

Carlos swallows before continuing, “I almost managed to get through to your dad on the phone,” he says, hoping to keep TK engaged until he figures out how to get back to the campsite. “It was only one bar, though, and it cut off before he could properly hear me.”

He feels his own disappointment mirrored back at him from TK when the younger man frowns.

“Okay,” Carlos nods, getting their bearings and finding the direction they need to move in. “We need to head west, and if we stay on this trail, it should lead us back to camp.”

Carlos moves so he’s behind TK to help him sit up. He places his hands below TK’s shoulders and very slowly and gently starts pushing him up. TK tries his best to help with his weight, but it’s no use, all his energy has been drained. With a hand still steading TK, Carlos reaches his other into the backpack and pulls out a water bottle.

“Here, you need to drink,” he hands it to TK.

TK accepts it with shaky hands and lifts the bottle to his mouth after popping the cap open, taking a few short sips.

“Ready to get up?”

“I’ll try,” TK replies, his voice hoarse.

“I got you,” Carlos promises.

Looping TK’s arm around his shoulder for a better hold on him, Carlos pushes himself up, taking TK with him. TK groans as soon as he’s standing still, closing his eyes as a wave of dizziness takes over and pain starts pulsing up and down his injured leg.

“No, no,” TK shakes his head. “It hurts.”

Carlos glances down and curses. Just the mere movement of TK standing up has caused more blood to pour out of his wound, and he knows more movement will dislodge the tourniquet even more.

Carlos shoulders the bag and then wraps an arm around TK’s waist, pulling him towards him.

“TK, I’m gonna need you to put all your weight on me, and absolutely no weight on that leg, okay? I’m going to get you out of here.”

TK distributes his weight on his good leg and on Carlos, dragging his injured leg as he pretty much hops along the way Carlos leads them.

“We’re not that far from camp,” Carlos pants. “I’ll carry you there if I have to.”

And he does. As soon as TK grows even weaker in Carlos’s grip around the halfway mark, the younger man’s muscles deflating, he does exactly that and carries TK the rest of the way.

Once they finally arrive at the site, Carlos carefully lowers TK down on a blanket near the extinguished campfire. He’s about to move to collect their important things when TK’s hand wraps around his wrist and stops him.

“Carlos,” TK heaves. “Carlos, we…we have to stop the bleeding.”

“The tourniquet is in place, I’ll make sure it stays that way…”

But TK is shaking his head. “It didn’t completely stop the blood, even when it was first applied,” he swallows. “Movement will cause more bleeding…and already lost too much blood…nearest hospital is a few hours away, can’t wait.”

“Then what are we supposed to do?” Carlos asks, the panic in his voice breaking through.

TK takes a deep breath before answering. “Cauterize it.”

It takes a moment for that to sink in and then Carlos’s eyes are going wide. “What? You mean, you want…”

“Need. I need you to do it, babe.”

“What? No, no, TK, I can’t—I can’t do that,” Carlos vigorously shakes his head, eyebrows drawn together. “There has to be something else, another way—”

“There isn’t,” TK matter of factly responds. “That is the only way.”

“No, TK, I…” Carlos’s voice breaks.

“Hey, hey,” TK reaches his arm out to Carlos. “It’s gonna be okay, I’ll talk you through it.”

Carlos moves so he’s in TK’s reach and takes his hand. He knows there’s no time to argue—that there’s no need to argue. He has to do this to save TK. TK trusts him and needs him to do this. And even though Carlos is scared out of his skin, he knows what needs to be done. Knows TK needs him now more than ever. He pushes his fear down and wills his heart to calm, ready to do whatever it takes to save the man who has saved him.

Carlos takes a deep breath and nods, sniffing. “What do you need me to do?”

“Need to get the fire going and grab one of the kitchen knives we packed…”

*****

TK slumps backwards, working on catching his breath as his hands go to wipe the tears that had streaked down his face during the agonizing procedure. Carlos is almost done wrapping TK’s thigh with a sterile bandage from the first aid kit after cauterizing it. TK feels Carlos’s lips against his forehead a few moments later.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Carlos whispers against TK’s skin, heart in pieces at the pain TK had just gone through.

“You did everything right, babe,” TK reassures Carlos with a quivering breath. “I knew it was going to hurt.”

“Here,” Carlos hands TK his water bottle. “Drink some more water while I gather our important things and we’ll be on the road soon.”

“There’s time to pack everything,” TK says. “I’m okay.”

Carlos studies TK for a moment. “Are you sure?”

TK nods.

Carlos throws on the first t-shirt he finds and makes quick work of taking down the tent and gathering their stuff. He haphazardly piles everything into the back of the truck, not bothering to pack anything properly. As long as everything is secure, that will do.

Less than ten minutes later sees Carlos helping TK into the passenger seat then getting into the driver’s seat and starting the engine. He sighs when he sees there’s still no service and TK can read the tension sitting in Carlos’s shoulders and in his squared jaw.

“Carlos, babe, I’m okay, the worst is over,” TK holds Carlos’s hand and gives it a squeeze.

Carlos turns to look at TK, taking in his pale complexion and clammy skin. His expression morphs into one of heartbreak and worry. “You can still get an infection, you could still have a concussion,” his eyes travel to the cut on TK’s head. “And there’s no telling what kind of damage that fall did to you internally.”

“All things we’ll deal with one at a time,” TK says calmly, although he wouldn’t be able to speak any louder even if he wanted to. “Take a breath, baby, it’s okay.”

Carlos takes a few moments to gather himself, preparing himself to drive and getting his nerves under control. Once he’s ready, he shifts the gear into drive and they start moving.

“Just don’t fall asleep on me, okay?” Carlos tells TK, his focus on the road.

“Okay,” TK replies.

“Play music if you want, and can you keep an eye on the service bars? We’ll call your dad first chance we get.”

TK opts to play a calmer playlist than the one they listened to on their way to the campsite. This playlist helps to relax him, which in this situation may not be the best of things, but TK also knows that Carlos needs to relax too, and upbeat and loud music will most definitely have the opposite effect on him. So TK settles for it, and pushes past the wave of sleepiness it cloaks over him.

The world passes by in a blur as TK stares out the window and replies to Carlos when the officer makes sure he’s still awake.

“There’s two bars,” TK says when he checks for service again, immediately calling his dad, his phone connected to the car’s bluetooth.

Owen picks up after a few rings. “TK! It’s good to hear from you, Carlos tried calling a bit ago but we got disconnected.”

It’s Carlos who replies to him. “Owen.”

The fire captain immediately picks up on Carlos’s shaky voice. “Carlos, what’s going on?”

“We’re on the way back, TK got hurt on a hike. He’s doing okay now but we’re going straight to the hospital,” Carlos explains.

Owen draws in a deep breath and needing to hear TK’s voice, he calls for him. “TK, son?”

“Hey, dad,” TK replies weakly. “I’m okay.”

“Everything is going to be fine. Which hospital are you going to and how long until you arrive?”

“West Park Memorial is going to be the closest and we’re about an hour away,” Carlos responds.

“Okay, I’ll meet you there. Be careful on the road, please.”

“Will do,” Carlos promises.

“I’m so tried,” TK mumbles after they hang up with Owen, shifting in his seat.

“I know, baby,” Carlos replies without taking his eyes off the road. “But I need you to stay awake for me, we’re almost there.”

TK manages to stay awake until they’re ten minutes away from their destination. Carlos calls for him but he doesn’t answer, giving into the impending darkness that’s been threatening to take over for hours now.

Carlos feels the panic stirring in his gut when TK doesn’t respond, doesn’t move.

“TK, baby, you gotta stay awake,” Carlos tries with no success. “TK, please,” he then uses a hand to take hold of TK’s and realizes with a pang in his chest that TK’s skin has lost some of its warmth.

“Shit,” Carlos curses, his own body and face heating up. “TK, you have to wake up, babe.”

The following ten minutes were some of the longest of Carlos’s life. The further he drives, the farther the hospital got, or so it seemed. After what felt like three eternities, the hospital finally comes into view and he honks a few times as he drives up the ramp leading to the ER entrance.

A doctor and a couple of nurses emerge with a gurney and Carlos jumps out and moves around the truck to open the passenger door.

“We were camping and he fell down a hill and cut open his thigh, he was losing a lot of blood and the tourniquet wasn’t stopping the bleeding completely. He’s a paramedic with the 126 and said we had to cauterize it so I did,” he explains. “He also might have a concussion from the fall. And he can’t be given opioid-based medication.”

The doctor nods while the nurses lift TK from the car and onto the gurney. “How long ago?”

“A few hours,” Carlos replies. “He lost consciousness about ten minutes ago.”

“Okay, we got him now,” the doctor reassures Carlos while performing initial tests on TK. “I need you to park the truck and then fill out some forms while we run a few tests. I’ll leave word at the ER front desk. What’s his name?”

“TK Strand.”

“He’s in good hands,” she nods before retreating through the sliding doors.

Carlos watches as they wheel TK into the hospital, the doctor giving orders as they moved. He starts to feel his own knees growing weaker as TK disappears down the hall and the doors slide shut. It feels like a part of his heart has just been torn from him.

He repeats he’s going to be okay over and over in his head as he climbs back into the truck and until he’s striding into the ER, a mantra to keep him calm.

“Hi, I was told I need to fill some forms for TK Strand. I just brought him in,” he says to the charge nurse at the front desk.

She nods and hands him a clipboard with a pen attached. “What’s your relation to the patient?”

“He’s my boyfriend,” Carlos replies. “And I’m his emergency contact.”

She gives him a soft smile. “They took him into an exam room to check him over and to run some standard tests. I’ll have someone take you to him once you fill out the forms.”

Carlos nods and begins filling out the empty spaces.

He’s lead to TK ten minutes later, following the nurse to where TK is being examined. She stops in front of a closed door and turns to Carlos.

“He’s right through there, his results should be in soon,” she informs him. “Just press the call button if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” Carlos nods and slowly opens the door as she walks away.

And he could cry tears of joy when he’s met with hazy green eyes once he steps into the room.

“Hey, Ty,” Carlos softly breathes, relaxing a little at seeing TK awake.

“Hi, baby,” TK replies, a small smile forming on his face.

Carlos is by TK’s bedside in three strides, taking his boyfriend’s hand and giving it a comforting squeeze.

“I’m glad to see you awake,” Carlos says. “You gave me quite the scare.”

TK winces. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“I know. It’s okay, baby, I’m just worried about you,” Carlos runs his thumb over TK’s skin that thankfully now feels a little warmer than earlier, courtesy of the IV fluids TK’s been given. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay, a little out of it and tired, but the fluids are helping,” TK replies.

Carlos’s response to that is interrupted by his phone ringing in his pocket.

“Hey, Owen,” Carlos answers.

“Carlos, I tried calling TK but it went to voicemail,” Owen responds.

Carlos can tell that he’s power walking by the way his voice wavers a little. “We forgot it in the car. We’re in the ER.”

“I’m walking in now. Which room are you boys in?”

“Oh,” Carlos pauses, realizing he’s not exactly sure which way he was lead. He must have zoned out then, he thinks. “Um, ask for TK at the front desk, a nurse will show you the way.”

“Okay,” Owen replies. “I’ll be right there.”

The door is pushed open a few minutes later, revealing a worried Owen, his face crunched up in concern. He breaths a sigh of relief when he sees TK awake but his eyes still radiate the fear bubbling in his chest at his son, once again, landing in the hospital.

His eyes move from TK to Carlos as he steps into the room, placing a hand on Carlos’s shoulder and squeezing there before moving to TK’s side.

“Hey, son,” Owen gives him a small smile. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay, a little better now,” TK replies after clearing is throat.

Owen’s eyes survey TK, noticing the butterfly bandage on his forehead and then his eyes widen when he spots the bandage on TK’s thigh.

Turning to Carlos, he asks, “what happened?”

“He took a tumble down a hill, he lost his balance, most likely on wet mud. He rolled down and his thigh probably got cut by a wooden stick or log. We tried a tourniquet but it didn’t hold well, so we…” Carlos pauses, his eyes moving to TK then back to Owen. “We had to cauterize it.”

Owen’s eyes go impossibly wide at that, digesting everything Carlos had said. “It was that bad?”

Before Carlos can reply, the door is opened and the doctor walks in.

“Doctor, this is Owen, TK’s father,” Carlos introduces. “I was just telling him what happened.”

Owen extends his arm to shake her hand. “How’s TK doing?”

“As well as expected,” she replies. “Any headache, nausea or double vision, TK?”

“No, just a little hazy and feeling a bit out of it.”

“That’s to be expected, I don’t think you have a concussion but I’m going to take you to get scans on your head and stomach to make sure everything is clear.”

TK is being wheeled out by a couple of nurses a few minutes later, but not before Carlos brushes a kiss to his forehead.

Owen and Carlos are sitting in silence when the officer’s voice cuts through it.

“I’m sorry, this is all my fault,” Carlos sighs, hands fidgeting with each other.

“What are you talking about?” Owen frowns.

“TK’s fall. I know the place, I know how an area can appear stable but it isn’t, I learned that the hard way but I never had a fall this bad. And the blood, he was bleeding so much when I found him and…” Carlos trails off, drawing in a shaky breath. “For a moment, I thought we weren’t getting out of there. For a moment, I thought I was going to lose him.”

“Hey, Carlos, look at me,” Owen says.

Carlos slowly lifts his gaze from the floor to meet Owen’s.

“This wasn’t your fault, this was an accident. Don’t blame yourself for what happened. And you didn’t lose him. You got him out of there.”

“I just keep thinking if I had maybe said something a moment earlier…I wouldn’t have had to…it was so hard to do that. I was terrified,” Carlos admits, remembering how his heart hammered against his ribcage during the procedure. “And seeing the amount of pain TK was in…”

Owen places his hand on the back of Carlos’s neck and gives him a supportive squeeze there.

“Listen to me,” Owen says after a moment. “You did everything you could for TK, you took care of him, you pushed through your fear for him, you got him here…you did everything right,” Owen echos TK’s words. “You saved his life, Carlos.”

Carlos swallows and sniffs. “I’d do anything to make sure he’s okay.”

“I know,” Owen nods. “And I’m so incredibly grateful for that. He’s going to be fine, you both will be.”

Carlos knows there’s more than a few nightmares lingering ahead in the wake of TK’s injury, but as long as they’ve got each other, they will be okay. He just needs to know that the worst is truly over.

TK is brought back into the room twenty minutes later, Carlos and Owen getting to their feet as he’s settled in again by the nurses.

Owen sits on the chair while Carlos sits on the edge of the bed, taking TK’s hand.

“I’m okay,” TK gives his boyfriend and father a smile.

Carlos nods, returning the smile through unshed tears, the weight of his conversation with Owen still heavy on his bones.

The doctor appears half an hour later, holding a few files.

“The good news is that all the scans are clear, no head or internal injuries. But I’d like to admit TK for observation, so we can keep a close look on the wound for a couple of days and watch out for an infection,” she explains.

“Whatever you think is best, doctor,” Owen nods.

“Alright then,” the doctor nods. “I’ll get the paperwork started and have TK moved to a room upstairs shortly.”

TK knows it’s for the best, because he honestly feels like crap and doesn’t want him and Carlos to deal with an infection at home, but he can’t help the groan he pushes out.

“It’s okay, babe,” Carlos reassures him, cupping his cheek. “Just to make sure everything is alright, only for a few days.”

TK nods, leaning into Carlos’s touch, the officer grounding him.

*****

They’re thrown another curveball when TK develops a fever overnight.

A cot was set for Carlos in TK’s room while Owen had gone home, making Carlos promise to call or text if anything changes. The officer was awake when TK’s fever was discovered by a nurse. He had to inform Owen with a hastily sent text while keeping up with what the nurse was saying, writing it out in the message. He watched as the nurse administers antibiotics into TK’s IV line and starts him on some medications to reduce the fever and clear out the infection.

TK stirs in bed, the fever taking a toll on his body and making him uncomfortable. He groans and peels his eyelids open to the sunlight gently streaming in through the blinds.

Turning his head to the side, his momentarily blurry vision clears to reveal Judd in the chair by his bedside.

“Judd,” TK whispers, his voice hoarse.

“Hey, brother,” Judd smiles. “Do you want some water?”

TK nods and takes a few sips out of the straw when Judd holds the cup for him.

“He’s getting coffee,” Judd says without TK needing to ask, knowing what’s on the younger man’s mind by the way his eyes darted around the room. “Looked like he needed it, too.”

TK nods. “When did you get here?”

“A while ago, sat with Carlos for a bit. Your dad called this morning and told me what happened and I wanted to see how you’re doing,” Judd gently pats TK’s shoulder. “You’ve been in and out for a while.”

“Yeah,” TK clears his throat. “This fever is really kicking my ass.”

“I, uh, you had me worried there for a second when I heard,” Judd sighs.

“I’m sorry, it was a freak accident. I was scared, too but I’m okay, Carlos took great care of me.”

Judd nods. “You’ll be better in no time, brother,” he reassures him. “Get some more rest,” he adds, seeing the way TK’s eyes drift close. “Your man will be back when you wake up.”

True to Judd’s word, Carlos is by TK’s side the next time he opens his eyes.

“Hi, baby,” Carlos smiles when he sees TK awake. “How are you feeling?”

“A little better,” TK replies, his body feeling more at ease. “You look better, too,” he points out, taking in Carlos’s appearance.

Carlos nods. “Knowing you’re getting better helped. Your fever decreased and the doctor thinks it will break soon. And they’ve been monitoring your wound and changing the dressing and it looks better, too. They think the infection will clear out by tomorrow.”

“And I’ll go home?”

“And you’ll come home,” Carlos confirms with a smile, carding his fingers through TK’s hair.

TK feels lighter at Carlos’s words, feeling that the worst is truly over now.

“Thank you, ‘Los. You literally carried me and put me back together.”

“I’d do anything for you.”

TK stays silent, knowing there’s more on Carlos’s tongue.

“It just…it felt like you were slipping away from me and…I was so scared,” Carlos closes his eyes and unshed tears shimmer when he opens them a moment later.

“You helped me hold on, Carlos, you gave me strength. And I knew it was going to be okay because you were by my side. I know what I asked wasn’t easy and I know it will take its toll but you did it. You saved me. And I’ll always fight to come back to you,” TK vows.

“I’ll always be right here,” Carlos vows back, brushing a kiss to TK’s temple. “Oh, and mom and dad send their love and well wishes. They were really worried but I told them everything is looking up now. Mom made me promise that we’ll go over for lunch as soon as you’re well enough. She’s probably setting the menu now.”

TK chuckles. “I’d love that. It shouldn’t be too long, though, I’ll be taking some antibiotics for a while and my thigh will be sore but only for a couple of weeks. It will scar, but…”

“Hey,” Carlos squeezes TK’s hands. “Scars show what you overcame, what you survived.”

“What we overcame and survived,” TK corrects. “I wouldn’t be here without you.”

Carlos leans in, resting his forehead against TK’s and takes in everything that is TK. Carlos easily lets himself get lost in TK’s scent, a reminder that TK is here and that he’s okay.

And seeing TK sitting up and talking, having regained most of his color now, Carlos can finally properly breathe again since watching TK fall.

*****

When TK suggested they go camping again, Carlos was hesitant at first, his once beloved spot now tainted with the memories of TK getting hurt. But TK reminds him of what that place means to him, not wanting the memory of the accident to be Carlos’s most recent association with the spot. He tells him that going back can help them both, reminds him of the strength of his connection to that campsite and Carlos eventually agrees.

And when they return to the campsite a couple of months later, TK is proven right, in more ways than one.

They go back after TK has fully recovered and Carlos no longer jolts up awake in the middle of the night, covered in a layer of sweat, heaving with TK’s yelled name on his lips.

Carlos is standing by the water, enjoying the cool breeze and the warmth of the sun on his skin when a pair of arms wrap around him from behind and hold him close. He smiles, leaning back into TK’s chest and rests his head against the younger man’s shoulder.

“Still as beautiful as ever,” TK whispers against Carlos’s ear.

Carlos nods. Still, however, a part of him can’t fully enjoy it anymore, the memories of TK’s accident too evident in his mind.

With a kiss planted to Carlos’s temple, TK pulls back and the officer turns to follow a few moments after.

And when his eyes land on TK, who’s down on one knee in front of him, Carlos draws in a deep breath while his eyes go wide.

Tears spring to Carlos’s brown eyes as TK opens the red velvet box in his hands, revealing a stunning silver ring sitting inside.

And the identical bright specks glittering in their eyes when TK asks and Carlos answers with, yes, a million times yes and the lighting surging through their bodies at the kiss that follows…

Well, their love is cosmic, after all.

And now, standing by the lake Carlos had painted for TK before, wrapped in each other’s embrace, they both start to fully heal, souls uplifting, their hearts lightening and beating as one.

With that, this place no longer carries the scars of almost losing TK and everything they are and could be, but now serves as a reminder of the strength of their love, mending the scars and holding the promise of a brighter future ahead.

[scripturiends]

stole all the air from my atmosphere

Read on ao3

Summary: Han Joonhwi thinks maybe pulling all-nighters wasn’t so bad after all, even when you’ve practically finished studying ages ago.

Rating: T

Word count: 1,577

Notes: Inspired by a poem by Timothy Joshua. And totally optional, but I recommend listening to this song while reading.

~

Hey, all. Thanks for waiting patiently for an update. This fic is in response specifically to a request I received here. I know a lot of people have been requesting for a sequel to ‘gave me no compasses, gave me no signs’ as well; truthfully, I’m not sure if this fic is in the same ‘universe’ as that one — all I can definitively say is that this still follows the canon. So, I’ll leave it up to you to decide if it’s the same timeline or not. I have a lot of fic ideas lined up for an “official” sequel, anyway. ;) 

The Solhwi brain rot just gets more potent as we anticipate the new episodes — I absolutely love receiving plot ideas from all of you, and while it’s a challenge to interpret it in my own way, I still hope that it’s on par with your expectations. As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts and comments. You can send me a message anytime too! I know I say this often, but your continued support really really keeps me motivated to write. Would love to make new friends as well, if we can help it.

Okay, the note is getting too long now. As usual, the fic is under the cut, and all mistakes in this fic are mine. Enjoy! 

~

There was that moment, when you stole all the air from my atmosphere; when my heart pounded within the might of all the planets.

It’s the third time Han Joonhwi has bit his tongue in the past ten minutes, attempting to stifle his oncoming yawns, trying not to cause any disturbance. He fights his drowsiness as best as he can, hoping that his companion wouldn’t notice — and yet, as his luck would have it, the moment he couldn’t hold it in any longer just so happened to be the exact same moment the person next to him lifted her nose from the book it was buried in.

Without looking at him, she flips another page. Tone commanding but masked with concern, Kang Sol mumbles, “Just go to bed already.”

So much for being lowkey, he thought. Joonhwi stretches himself awake, thinking of the perfect response: casual enough to make it look like he doesn’t care, but caring enough that she wouldn’t push him away. “Not until you’re done,” he finalizes.

Sol scoffs, tossing her pen lightly on the table. “You don’t even take this class.” 

Well, of course he knew that. But Kang Sol A — truthfully, he prefers to omit the distinction: no matter how many Kang Sols there are in Korea, or hell, even in the entire world, he’s only got eyes for one — is not getting anything out of him. If getting Joonhwi to admit his true feelings was her goal, she’s far from reaching it.

“You know why I’m here,” he sidetracked. 

Unconvinced, she turns to him with a provoking look, and Joonhwi already knows she’s about to go on a long-winded rant. “Yeah, yeah, I do,” she started. “You want to hang out with me but instead of just asking like a normal person, you make up this lame excuse about how I need to study even though I was already planning on doing that anyway. You practically finished studying ages ago so you just sitting there doing nothing is really rubbing salt in my wounds.” 

He watches her with both his hands on his head, suppressing a smile. Finding an opening, Sol pushes his chest lightly. “I don’t need you here. Get out.” 

She said it so weakly that he knows there’s no way she could have meant it. Making sure she doesn’t lose her balance, Joonhwi quickly takes hold of her wrists and gently places them back on the table. “You talk too much,” he breathed. 

Sol purses her lips in annoyance and propped her chin up with her hand. “Yeah, well, that’s why you’re dating me,” she pouted.

If she keeps putting him in his place like this, he might actually have to walk out, but not for the reasons she’d expect him to, like his supposed exhaustion. Joonhwi knows Sol doesn’t do this on purpose, but she naturally has a way of making him flustered, and he’s trying really hard not to lose his cool right now. 

She stomps her feet lightly on the ground, groaning. “This is too difficult,” she complains, leaning her head on Joonhwi’s shoulder. 

Really, really hard.

It’s funny how Sol can say something one minute and then completely contradict it by the next. She says she doesn’t need him there, but clings onto him like her life depended on it. Not that Joonhwi was complaining — but he does want to have a little fun with her. He wanted to stir her a bit with something like, I thought you didn’t need me here? He knows she hates being called out for snappy remarks that she only ever means as a joke.

But a quick glance at Sol, in her favorite pajamas and one of Joonhwi’s sweaters, on the very rare occasions she has her hair down, bangs falling on her eyes, Joonhwi decided against it. Her vulnerability shouldn’t be treated with ridicule; it should be met with an equal amount of softness. After all, no one else but Joonhwi gets to see Sol like this — he finds that as a privilege which shouldn’t be taken for granted. 

“Okay.” He gives in. “Let me have a look.”

Joonhwi holds his palm out to ask for the reading material, which, as usual, Sol rejects. “Didn’t we already talk about this?”

He feigns innocence. “Talk about what?”

Her head feels heavy on his shoulder. “I need to be able to stand on my own if I’m going to survive law school hell,” she reminds him. “You can’t keep coming to my rescue for every little inconvenience.” 

“So this is just a minor setback?” Joonhwi teases. He couldn’t help it. 

“No,” Sol cries, “it’s a major obstacle.” 

She snuggles up against him, and Joonhwi could literally feel the heat rising to his face. Nonetheless, he lightly holds the side of her head for support and asks, “So what? Are you just going to give up?” 

“Of course not,” she mumbles, her breath hot on his neck. Joonhwi knows the law well, but he feels like this should be illegal. 

“But sometimes I wish I was just naturally smart like you.”

He lets out a soft sigh. Like many other things, the pair have talked about this before, and Joonhwi has never denied that he and many others have had a significant head start over Sol. But this is what he’d always tell her: 

“If everyone in this school had half as much of your wit, every crime in the world would have been solved by now.” 

To which she’d grimace and respond with, “Yeah, tell that to the F I got in Criminal Code.” 

But tonight was different. Sol wasn’t coming from a place of defeat, she was saying this out of frustration. She was probably thinking that maybe, had her life choices been different, she would have had it easier. That maybe, had she been as lucky in wealth and opportunities as everyone else, she wouldn’t need to work twice as hard as them. So that maybe, like Joonhwi, she could just comfortably sit in silence with him and enjoy his company. 

Right now, he’s treading murky waters and he’s afraid that one wrong move could give Sol the wrong idea. Joonhwi has never been the type to open up to people, but she never made it difficult for him to do so. With Sol, honesty was just the default. Telling her things he’d never entrust with anyone else came as easy as breathing. 

He takes her hand and gingerly intertwines it with his own. “I didn’t have it easy at the beginning either,” he admits. “Law school wasn’t even a part of my plan, and yet here I am.” 

This is at least one thing he knows Sol could empathize with. After being betrayed by the last person he’d ever expect to hurt him, Joonhwi’s life took a turn. To an extent, he was motivated by rage. But mostly, he was just trying to find a way to turn that pain into something useful, trying to make sure no one else has to go through what he did. And call him foolish for being too hopeful or optimistic, but he believes this is something he and Sol can do for each other. They’re two sides of the same coin: the law owes Sol an apology, and Joonhwi is coming to terms with the fact that he might never get one, ultimately being robbed of the opportunity after his uncle’s untimely death. 

Joonhwi knows his words bear significant weight to Sol. There’s a lot of things he wants to say to her but right now he just settles with, “I think you’re smart enough. If anything, you need to stop going overboard. What if you get sick again?”

She lifts her head and stares at him with doe eyes.

“That’s why I’m here.” He raises their interlocked fingers to show to her. “Why do you think I’m holding your hand? It’s so I can pull you out from under when you’re drowning in all of this.”

Sol slowly breaks out into an endearing smile, trying to repress her laughter but failing. “Heol. Han Joonhwi, since when were you so sentimental?”

Joonhwi doesn’t know where this newfound bravery came from, but he kisses Sol on the forehead lightly. “Since you needed it.” 

Sol blinks, her expression unreadable, and Joonhwi fears that he may have done the wrong thing. But much to his disbelief, she instead grabs him by the collar and closes the gap between her lips and his. They crash against one another in perfect rhythm, and Joonhwi mentally slaps himself for not doing this sooner. Never has he felt more at peace than at this very moment, which was ironic considering he was supposed to be the one doing the comforting. And yet, the lines blur when he realizes that even when their methods are vastly different, they’re at their best when they’re in tune with each other’s needs.

And right now, this is what he needs the most.

Much to Joonhwi’s dismay, Sol finally pulls away; they’re both out of breath. 

Still in a daze, he musters up the courage to ask such a stupid question. In fact, he’s surprised he could even speak at all. “What was that for?” 

“You’re not the only sentimental one here. If you’re going to kiss me, do it right.” 

That was when I knew, you were worlds more, than just a first kiss.

~

Send me your thoughts here!

[vminity21]

+1 | kth

Pairing: HighschoolCrush!Taehyung X StillProcessingIt!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Genre: angst/fluff/smut

Warning(s): slight language use, angst (if you read b/w the lines), pretty much smutty kissing, hand groping, mention of alcohol, breast worship, nipple play; Rated: 18+

Summary: When a crush you had in high school unexpectedly returns to your life six years later, this is the experience you have with him when you collected the courage to invite him over to hangout.

Credit to: @suhdays​ for the amazing cover!

Inspiration comes in the form of little expectancy especially when life seems to throw a curveball you never dreamed would be a potential possibility; but, here you are, tapping upon the keyboard of your five-year-old laptop decorated in stickers of celebs you've admired over the years mingled with relevant quotes that have bustled yet again- inspiration that motivates you day by day to continue to be the human being that you are. Inspiration though can appear in lyrical melodies broadcasted globally for millions to pine over; or, published in numerous pages creating imaginary worlds where ones can escape to; or, sketched in a meticulous design to build whatever idea had been desired to come to life; or, filmed in scenes of an edited story by talented persons determined to enter the spotlight in any way they can; or, painted along a canvas in colors of calculated detail bringing forth the picture of accomplishment. Inspiration derives from a mere moment- one that sparks the instinct to gather the materials needed to pour out your heart in ways that may bring a sense of peace.

For you, it used to be in the lines of a song penciled into a crinkled notebook from your backpack hidden away for no one to discover; it used to be countless childhood journals where you expressed your inward battles in order to find enough solace to sleep at night. You've lost your touch over the years because life changes in the blink of an eye, as you grow older, and work can distract from the time taken to focus on yourself; thankfully graduating college to gain the degree you now behold landed you a job, one you hope lasts for many years, and you are currently living in a two-bedroom apartment with your best friend, Monica, who's presently slumbering as you brush some loose strands of hair from your vision.

Your dog is curled at the end of your bed as you write, which is something that you haven't done in what feels like forever, but the reasoning behind this sporadic urge ignited when the familiar pair of brown eyes from six years prior, re-entered your world without your preparation and his presence from a recent night shared seems to echo in every space of your brain to where you've finally had enough. It's about time to reach out, the devil on your shoulder whispers, but the angel sitting on the opposite begs to differ. Shaking your head, you pause momentarily, cracking your knuckles before resting your forehead on the desk, exhaling slowly while the memory of his touch seems to haunt your skin.

He was someone you once admired in high school- roaming the hallways where girls giggled giddily each time he'd pass by; star of the basketball team, rising popularity to the point everyone knew his name, collecting homework answers from budding friendships, and it all began once he started his junior year at a new school- the school where you attended. But the difference that set him apart from the typical cliché's of the prevalent students you never seemed to relate to, was that he talked to absolutely everybody and anybody- no judgment on what group the person took part in, his kindness won the hearts of many other than the evident attraction of his physical features. He didn't care who you were or what you were into, he would be your friend, and that, considering he was viewed on a higher level, made him even more special.

Despite never admitting it then, you had a crush on him. He was more of an acquaintance, but you enjoyed his company when he came around, and when a past friend, who is now married with a few kids, used to have a crush on the same person, your heart sank, because with every guy thinking she was hot, you felt as though you would never stand a chance. Especially not with this guy who made your hands jittery and the beat in your chest skip- the guy who is none other than Kim Taehyung.

Taehyung would frequent the chorus room at times when you and your past friend would practice music pieces and he always was fond of your singing voice- something he praised you for often, while his attention was received from his talent regarding sports. Something he was so good at that it was spread that he may have gained quite the scholarship for college if he decided to go. There were memories of bravery where you seized the day just to steal a conversation and a hug; at one time, scribbling the words 'hot af' with an arrow pointing where he signed your friend, Min Yoongi's, yearbook; Yoongi playing it off as though he had no idea who the culprit was when Taehyung asked who wrote it. Utter surprise can't even fathom when you along with Taehyung were voted 'Most Likely to be Famous' by your graduating class when senior year was conquered. The inside joke was for you to hold the basketball while he placed his hands upon the keys of a piano, the picture you still couldn't process happened, but always remained grateful for.

Six years flew by and the conversation never necessarily held, but there were the rare messages from social media where he'd reach out hoping all had been well with you. Interestingly enough, a cover you posted harmonizing with a fellow singer happened to be his absolute favorite, one of the few Instagram posts he'd commented on, and one of the few singing videos he continuously would listen to repeatedly without your knowledge until a few weeks ago when he revealed that to you. A cover that is now near to be a four-year-old video that he still finds uplifting when he hears you and the way your voice blended so well with the other female. Your mind is reeling because after all this time, and even now, there are remains of the aftershock, trying to forget the feel of him, when there's no way you can, not with everything so fresh on your mind. So fresh on your heart.

It all occurred when Yoongi, who kept in touch with you occasionally after graduation brought you up to Taehyung who happened to think of you earlier when listening to his favorite cover of yours, and he agreed he'd like to hang out. He asked if his friend, Hoseok could join you, Monica, and Yoongi which of course you said yes to learn how sweet you found it, that he had traveled within the span of a day after visiting his grandparents, because he is a man of his word, planned to come see you even though the drive was five hours out of his way. The night was filled with so much laughter mixed with serious conversations to the point the card game that was supposed to be played was never finished, and it sprung the desire of wanting to see Taehyung again, and you couldn't come to terms with never knowing so after some encouragement from Monnie and Yoongi, you messaged T to hang out a few days later, but never opened his reply until you were safely home from work.

Taehyung: Gotcha! Hmmm, I haven't decided on what I intend on doing. Either being with family or hanging out with friends. If I don't hang out with family, you could be my plus 1 or bring whomever or vice versa

[Y/N]: Sorry I just got home from work! I'll definitely be your plus 1 if hanging with family doesn't work out! Sounds like a plan!

He asked if you wanted anything from the store when it was confirmed he was on his way which you responded with your typical answer of no, and with music playing from your Bluetooth speaker, you were highly humiliated when you lost track of four minutes of time, opening a message from him to see that he had been there, at your door. Heart racing you rushed to unlock it, head spinning when you saw he leaned against the stair railing with a plastic bag of two Arbor Mist wine bottles dangling from his hand, him promising everything was fine despite your profuse apologies- him slipping his phone in his back pocket while he followed you into your home.

Monnie happened to be staying the night with her family, so it would be just the two of you tonight, besides your dog who bounced at his legs while he reached down to pet her fluffy head. Taking in the sight of him, now that was something you found hard to believe. Just a simple pair of jeans, a gray t-shirt with a black jacket complementing the dark tendrils of hair spread across his forehead leading to the carefully sculpted lining of his jaw nearly brought you to your knees, but you held it together long enough to settle across from him at your dining room table. He had taken off his shoes at the door remembering upon a few days prior, and he set out the wine while you jumped to retrieve wine glasses (Yoongi happened to purchase for you) while banter still related to greetings.

One thing that truly intrigued you when first seeing Taehyung after six years were words, he had said that touched your heart more than you'd like to profess. "That's why I try to enjoy every moment with people because you never know what day will be your last," and you knew right then, that if there was anyone you wanted to share a moment with, it was him, and there he was, right before you, smiling about something you said while the sound of the fruity liquid-filled each glass.

"I really truly do not understand what you are so afraid of. What do you even have to lose?" Monnie tinkered with the lens to her camera while she sauntered through the living room. Exasperated from anxiety, you sucked in your lips before teasingly throwing her the side-eye.

"My dignity,"

"Oh c'mon," she paused, lifting a brow. You had been talking nonstop on how bad you wanted to invite Taehyung over, but fear of rejection including the fear of humiliation seemed to overwhelm you, although deep down you knew your best friend in the entire world was correct. You did not nor do you have anything to lose.

"Well!" You squawked, raising your palms dramatically in the air before slapping them to the sides of your thighs, "Why the hell would Kim Taehyung ever want to hang out with me anyway? Do you not see how farfetched this all is?"

"Bold of you to assume that my life isn't already farfetched enough as it is-"

"Not! The point!"

Monnie sighed, and when she saw the way your shoulders slumped in disappointment that shouldn't have been an issue, to begin with, she stepped closer, placing her hand on your shoulder, "First off, you are overthinking this, and you shouldn't. Besides, I think after hanging out as a group, he only sees you as a friend, meaning no expectations. So, go into it with that mindset okay? I'm sure he'd love to hang out with you. Secondly," she smiled, her serene expression filled with promises she always kept, "You've waited six years for this. I think you should ask him to hang out."

"You really think so?" Your grin reached your hopeful eyes, and the feeling in your chest seemed to react more positively despite your earlier turmoil.

"Yeah. The dude owes us a chair anyways,"

"Ah!" You cackled, back pressed against the dining room table as you remembered literally a few days ago when Taehyung accidentally broke a spindle of the chair in half with his foot when Yoongi scared him just by suddenly walking down the hallway. "I don't think I've ever seen a man so embarrassed."

"I'm not saying to hold it over his head, but," Monnie held up her index finger, "I think that gives him enough reason to come back," she giggled, setting her camera on the dining room table before waltzing into the kitchen.

You shrugged, "At least we can still sit on it."

"Look at it, it's staring at me," Taehyung pointed swiftly at where the vacant spindle would have been, your laughter reverberated throughout the space.

"T, really, you do not owe us new chairs. I promise, it's fine," you reassured him, realizing your cheeks were sore from how much you'd been smiling since he entered your 'realm of refuge' as you liked to describe your apartment. He snapped a picture of it, probably with the intention of getting a new chair for you and Monica regardless, and you found that appreciative although you would be happy if he didn't.

Shit. You pause from the computer screen, leaning back into your chair before folding your arms tight across your chest. Eyeballing the cursor, your vision narrows as it blinks, waiting for you to add more words to the memory that seems to spin in a cycle with the subtle goal of not stopping. Or, so you figure. If recalling every little detail isn't already hard enough, reliving the reminiscence of his fingers twirling in your hair, his sweet laugh when he looked at you, or the way he held you so tight-

But, everything in between, leading up to those mesmerizing flashes are just as important to you as what it led to. Maybe it was the conversation- the three hours of conversation before the move to the sofa which it was hard to fully focus on what else was being said because how could you properly concentrate when the one person, you'd been so worried about spending time with was seriously conversing with you like the pair of you had been friends your whole lives?

Miraculously, you were able to gather the stories of past vacations that resulted in mild disappointment revolving around the complaints of people surrounding him, or the goal of visiting as many places as possible leading Taehyung to scribble down a list of where he'd been to reveal you both have equally been to the same amount of places. Of course, the thrill of going on a mini adventure with him brought an excitement you haven't felt in a while; even the story of why he was transferred to your high school years ago due to a misunderstanding, and when the pair of you made your way to the couch, he nestled into one corner while you gladly took the other, wishing you could snuggle closer but fear prevented you from doing so.

It seemed as though that he didn't want to watch the movie anyhow, because he talked to you as though he never wanted to stop, and eventually it led to you asking one too many times if he was okay with spending the rest of the night with you. "It's up to you, I'll stay if you want me too," he promised, the way your heart fluttered when you replied, "Yes, can you please stay? I don't want you to go."

"Alright, alright! I'll stay," he smiled widely, both of his large hands reaching out, and there was not one ounce of hesitation from you- your hands grasped his before your dog jumped to beg for attention, trying to lick at his face causing your hands to undo. Laughter was contagious with Taehyung, and still cuddled into the corner of the couch, you were so elated that he was going to stay, you reached to hug him, his arms wrapping around you, the feel of your bodies aligning putting the biggest smile on your face. It was crazy how everything was seeming to fall into place- the stars aligning as though it was all magic; and, you couldn't get past how right everything felt. How right he felt. Pulling away, his smile never left him, "Are you shy?" His arm remained draped around your shoulders, and timidly you peer at his surprised gape, his black hair almost covered his crescent eyes.

"I mean... Yeah, I can be," you murmured, reaching to hug him again, but something washed over you this time, a thought that had crossed your mind repeatedly that you just couldn't take it anymore. The side of his face was blurred, placing your palm upon his cheek, and without even a moment of doubt, you kissed him. A sudden decision, but one of the best ones you could have made.

His lips were so soft, the way his mouth just seemed to mold with yours for only a few mere seconds, and the shock on his face when you pulled away, paired with the realization that his hands were held in the air, you hadn't expected his reaction. Shit! You cursed inwardly, immediately jumping back to persistently make sure he was okay; even when he moved to cuddle with you, him claiming everything was fine, but that he couldn't believe you kissed him being the both of you never once saw this coming especially six years ago during the high school days. His hand was fidgety as he swiftly rubbed your shoulder, your head buried on his chest while your mind spun in a continuous loop of how you could not believe that you kissed Taehyung. The Kim Taehyung.

He became quiet- too quiet, concern etched in your expression, maneuvering yourself back to the opposite corner of the couch, so you could face him. "T, are you sure you're okay? Did I freak you out?"

"No, no, I just can't believe you kissed me," he was in awe, eyes dazed as he ran his slim fingers through his hair, "Like, really I never saw this coming,"

"I mean, have you looked in the mirror?" You teased, knowing damn well he'd been aware of you finding him attractive, and he shook his head in dismissal of your compliment as he chuckled; it took you a whole sixty seconds to realize you were holding his hand, fingers linked, and him asking if you were nervous due to your clammy palm, though you tried to swear up and down you were not, the next round of words he said nearly brought you to tears when he finally spoke.

"You shouldn't sell yourself short," he looked you in the eyes without any faltering, although you tilted your head in mild confusion as to why he was saying this, to begin with, "I don't think you realize how much of an impact you've made on others, especially guys," ah, he was letting you down easy, and you knew it, but you're too stunned to speak as you listened, "I don't think you give yourself enough credit either. You're a great singer, you're pretty much a musician, you love animals, you have a job, you live on your own. Really, you shouldn't sell yourself short-"

"T," you breathed, pleading almost, but trying not to make it obvious, but he never broke eye contact, "We don't have to date or anything, I just- I just wanted a moment with you." You mentioned what inspired you to spend time with him- exposing how a few nights ago when he said he wanted to enjoy every moment with people- you knew you wanted to have a moment with him, too. Memories from high school were spoken momentarily, thirty minutes passing by which included a made-up handshake as well as the subtle twirl of his fingers in your hair- him complimenting how good your hair looked which made you blush even more.

Just when you thought he wasn't already smooth enough, you noticed Taehyung started teasing your dog, her pouncing at his chest before he'd lean in closer to you. Eyebrows scrunching, it took you a hot second to realize what he was doing. Each time Taehyung would scoot closer to you, he'd kiss you, sending the pair of you in boisterous laughter when your dog would try to break the kisses by jumping in between your faces. The more your lips would touch, it'd last a bit longer and longer, your hand clinging to the side of his jacket to pull him closer when things really started moving fast, eventually your dog left the room with the hint that attention was no longer available for her.

Still lip-locked, Taheyung's hands gripped your hips while you willingly moved to straddle him, arms resting on the top of the couch on either side of his head, the tip of your tongue glided along his, while he fanned his hands along your ass. You refrained from moaning into his kiss despite how bad you wanted to, yet you held yourself together, involuntarily grinding your clothed heat where his erection was felt. T smacked your ass before slithering the tips of his fingers to your shirt, slowly unbuttoning one by one.... One by one. His eyes were hazed from how much he was craving your mouth, and with a seductive nod in his direction, he continued until he made it to the final goal, your kisses never planning to stop, the sides of your shirt being brushed away for him to take in the sight of you.

"Ooh my God," his eyes darkened in evident lust when he saw the way your black bra cupped your breasts, "Oh my God," his voice deepened, him hardly knowing what to do with himself while your smirk remained subtlety on your mouth. Though you hadn't needed him to ask, he politely waited for your permission to touch your chest, a quick pang of frilly nerves ghosted your stomach.

"Yeah," you breathed seductively, gradually moving to capture his lips, trying to hold back a giggle when he gently moved his hands to your back, "You're not going to find it there," you mused, referring to the clip. He paused as if panicked, "It's in the front," you finally admitted, but failing miserably, Taehyung let you take initiative, you unclipped your bra uncovering what is now widening his brown eyes. "Oh my God!" His reaction made you want to cum right then and there, especially when his fingers made their way to squeeze your nipples when his mouth returned to yours. Taehyung worshiped your breasts, and for some odd, yet arousing reason, you lived for it.

You're uncertain of when the tv was switched off, and even now, as your hands continue to fly across the keyboard, one thing you do recall, one of the lingering memories of the evening was your shirt being off, thrown onto the floor mingled with your bra, and without any warning, Taehyung hoisted you in the air, your legs instinctively wrapped around his torso while he tightened his hold around your body. His steps were painfully careful, kissing you roughly while your arms kept their place behind his neck, and the direction was being taken to your bedroom where your heart pounded so anxiously to be. His jacket was shed before the bold act, and all that was left was his gray t-shirt and jeans. Laying you down with a bounce from your mattress, he remained above you, and your eyes refused to stray especially when he reached to remove his shirt- his smooth skin greeting yours sending waves of goosebumps spreading among your limbs.

There was no one like him in your eyes, and there never would be. Not in your heart. And with how perfect everything was going; you were not prepared for how hard it was going to be to stop before things went too far. Because what if he doesn't exactly feel the same? He was letting you down easy not even an hour ago, and here you were, hopes so high, you weren't sure how you were going to erase them back down. He kissed you until you couldn't breathe, your fingers dug into your comforter, while his palms glided all over your frame for however long you let him, but when he went to remove your leggings, you halted him.

Now, this is where your heart aches when you relive this part, because a conversation was held, one where you mentioned what if someone catches feelings if the both of you decided to solely be just friends with benefits? Taehyung said all you had to do was communicate with him because he was easy to get along with, and you've known this about him for six years. He was always someone easy to talk to, and you knew he would never treat you poorly over a situation like this. And, he hadn't. You made the executive decision to not sleep with him for you wanted him to remember you as the woman you are, and the woman, you've always been, and with the fear of going all the way being something that could change his image of you, you were satisfied to hear the loud echoes of his snoring after you changed into pajamas, gazing at his sleeping demeanor before you drifted into slumber as well.

When the morning came, you were not ready for him to leave, but he asked if you would walk him out, him throwing on his shirt and jacket while you rushed to brush your teeth. T asked if you had any other plans for the rest of the day which you proceeded to answer honestly with a no, as he mentioned that he was going to get breakfast.

"Let me know when you make it home," you said tenderly, "I want to know you're safe,"

"I will," he promised before you embraced him, turning just enough to place a peck to his cheek. It was his smile that decided to enter your recollection- the boxy smile that would plague you until the day you accept that you will never forget it.

And when you opened the door to the apartment where he gracefully waltzed through, you merely caught a glimpse of him leaving, ahead of you quietly shutting the door to whatever could have been.

Or, what could have started a beautiful story that has yet to unfold.

[savethelastdan]

Sesskagu Week Day Six: Future (White)

CW: child death, grief

DISCLAIMER: This was written weeks ago but no one outside a Discord has seen it, and I thought it fit the prompt. 

When he is fourteen, Sesshomaru’s son, Akinori, goes to see a fortune teller.

His mother advises against it; claiming to have killed many witches in her time, she declares that, with a sweep of her fan, “all they tell you is what you want to hear.”

Akinori laughs, but in the end can neither agree nor disagree; for when he arrives, the woman bars the doors and refuses to give him answers.

When will the panther king fall from power - this year, or the next? ​(Sesshomaru hides a smile, recalling the sword that awaits his son’s birthday to be claimed.)

Will my parents give me siblings, or have I already achieved the height of perfection in their eyes? ​(Kagura laughs boldly, but her smile is as soft as a feather as she runs a hand through her son’s hair.)

Which will be greater -- my father’s legacy, or my own? ​(The fortune teller cuts him off, her voice shaking as she tells him to please, please go away.)

-

It is not the first time that he has lost a child. But Sesshomaru could never say that the experience prepared him for the sight of the broken body stretched before them.

The panther king has shown little care in his work; Akinori’s limbs bend at competing angles, like a tree ravaged in a storm. His mokomoko lies limp in the grass, drenched with blood. Pink replaces the gold in his lifeless eyes.

The youth’s expression is peaceful; not that such a thing could bring comfort in this moment.

“​Do something!”​ Kagura screams; the side of her fist connects with his shoulder. Her other arm drapes over their son’s mangled body, as though to shield the heart that sits still beneath the tattered ribs. “​Bring him back!”

Jaken’s eyes meet Sesshomaru’s, frozen with horror. He knows exactly the memory playing in the kappa’s mind: The night of Akinori’s birth, where the child had come from Kagura’s body blue-faced and still. He hadn’t thought twice of wielding Tenseiga in that moment, while his wife was still lost in the throes of a final bloody contraction.

They had never told her -- had never thought it would matter.

“​Sesshomaru!​ ” The raw desperation in her voice - that which she’s always managed to shield from him, before, even when begging for her own rescue - he can not bear it.

He stands, the blood and poison pouring from his own wounds forgotten. Jaken’s head bows at his silent command - ​stay with them.

-

The panther king’s demise is neither swift, nor merciful. 

-

“Happy birthday, little brother.” Rin bends before the memorial stone, hands pressed flat together. The surface of the rock is not yet wind-worn, and it’s nice to finally have a place in the village where she can go to remember him.

Akinori’s true grave is at the peak of a tall mountain, chosen by his mother. Lord Sesshomaru searched for weeks to find it, and Rin has never felt comfortable asking him to take her.

She hasn’t seen Kagura or Jaken in years. Somehow, she believes they are together.

A breeze rustles against the back of Rin’s bare neck, tickling the strands of closely-cut hair at her nape. She hunches her shoulders in response, wondering not for the first time if Lady Kagura stays away because of her - knowing that Rin has escaped death twice, a prize that cannot be given to anyone else.

Could I trade one of my lives for yours, Akinori? To see you smile again?

She doesn’t want to judge; Rin has no children of her own, as much as she likes them.

Both hands fall to her side as she stands. Tonight, Lord Sesshomaru will arrive to sit with her. When Kohaku gets home, the three of them will drink, and talk about anything other than what is the only thing they can truly think about.

Rin’s ​glad ​he comes, instead of wandering the woods alone.

-

On the dark night of the winter solstice, something calls him to Akinori’s mountaintop.

Part of him (the ​weak p​art, the one that pulled him through the Meido in search of a lost wind goddess’ soul and made him want to smile when his brother pulled a girl out of the Bone-eater’s Well) doesn’t want to go. It’s easier to grieve on the ground, where he can walk a mere ten yards to find some creature to tear apart in order to calm his racing heart.

But he’s long past the days when he would ignore his instincts. When his boots settle in the snow atop the grave’s peak, he sees that he is not alone.

“Lord Sesshomaru!” Tears flood Jaken’s eyes. He trips over the edge of the memorial stone in his hurry to bow. “How I’ve missed you!”

Kagura hunches her back and refuses to acknowledge him. Sesshomaru stands frozen - stunned that she and Jaken have remained together for this long without his servant’s demise, and at how little she has changed in the years since their last meeting.

“How is Rin? And Ah-Un? And Kohaku - oh, I’ve practically forgotten their foolish little faces!” Jaken continues to wail, waving the staff of two heads to emphasize the enormity of his struggles. Kagura clicks her tongue loudly, but the kappa soundly ignores her, and she tosses her head with a dramatic huff.

Sesshomaru resists the almost overpowering urge to embrace her. To do so would be foolish. The rejection would be swift and violent - most likely in the form of throwing him off the mountain. And why not? This particular failure of his has been the ultimate betrayal, far worse than simply allowing Naraku to destroy her. This had been a life she’d nurtured, suffered to bear - one she had ​cherished.

She swears under her breath in exhaustion, curling herself even tighter against his chest. Their newborn son is pressed safe between them, drooling against her collarbone. “I wish he looked more like me,” she mumbles. “Ah, well. Spoiled little prince...”

“Lord Sesshomaru, forgive me for my impertinence, but...” Jaken steps back slowly, in preparation to avoid punishment. “Are you well?”

He supposes he is not. Food and rest seem rather pointless; times when he can slow down enough to breathe, are also opportunities for memories of his loss to seep in. Other than a few visits to his human wards, and one to his mother (which ended quickly enough, when she used the meeting to make an offer of condolences that he does not wish to accept), Sesshomaru has not engaged socially with another creature since that terrible day. Much of his time is spent as it was in his adolescence - wandering the earth, searching for beings to challenge.

It is not as fulfilling as it once was.

“Oi.”

He blinks slowly in surprise, before turning his gaze to Kagura. Arms crossed over her chest, his wife (if she can still be called that, several years after having abandoned each other) appraises him with a cold stare.

“It’s going to snow tonight.” She nods towards the graying clouds. “We have a cave nearby, if you want to spend the night.”

Jaken squawks, vocalizing the disbelief that Sesshomaru himself feels. Kagura’s face reddens.

“Only because you look like shit,” she spits, words cracking in the air like glass. “What would it do to your reputation, to keel over from a little storm?”

The insult smarts, as though she’s taken Bakusaiga in hand and thoroughly tenderized him with it. Sesshomaru used to be strong, ​proud. T​he kind of being that others would come to for help, long ago, only to be dismissed for his own purposes.

Now, he is simply a father with two children who have grown up, and one who never got the chance to.

Now, Kagura is the one who curls her lip and turns away. 

-

Jaken fusses over him. It is a strangely welcome reminder of the old days. Kagura acts as though she doesn’t care, but it’s clear the two have developed a routine of sorts on their own - Jaken’s staff has place beside her fan, and they set up a small fire within the depth of the cave together without a single pause in their bickering.

The sense of unbelonging is uncomfortable. Sesshomaru sits as close to the entrance as he can, cold wind bearing against his back, to mute it.

“Eat this, my Lord!” Jaken bows his head, holding out a hunk of steaming meat. “There are tons of tasty creatures roaming around the mountains. It would be my pleasure to prepare as many as you’d like!”

He eats silently, ignoring the nausea that simmers under Kagura’s gaze. He does not know how to diffuse the unbearable tension between them, and so he will not try.

But when Jaken heads to the rear of the cave to sleep, there is no one else to put between them as a makeshift shield. And, despite his fervent prayers, Kagura does not leave her place on the opposite side of the fire.

It feels like centuries pass before she speaks.

“You left us.”

It’s three little words, but he knows exactly the moment of which she speaks. “I did.”

Outside, the wind screams as it drags snow from one side of the mountain and piles it against the other. Kagura pulls her kimonos tighter around her body, glaring into the fire.

He clears his throat. “I destroyed the panther king that day. Eradicated his tribe and his allies.” 

She nods stiffly.

“And I have not known peace for a single moment in the past three years.”

Her eyes flick up. “Do you think that’s what I want to hear?”

“It is the truth.”

Fingers crush the edge of her sleeve in a fist. In one swift moment, she stands and marches over to his side of the fire. Sesshomaru braces himself in expectation for a fighting blow.

Her palms slide against the side of his face, thumbs resting against the spot where his skin purples. Up this close, he can see lines of grief darken under her eyes, as the fire’s shadows bounce against them. The purple crescent moon on the side of her neck, tattooed during their wedding ceremony, has turned blood-red in the light.

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” she murmurs.

Then, she wraps him in a tight embrace. Her heartbeat thuds loudly in his ears, drowning out the roar of the snowstorm outside.

He doesn’t know it yet, but for the first time in years, Kagura sleeps soundly through the night. 

-

This doesn’t mean I forgive you.

S​he is wounded while razing a village, and does not object when Jaken calls him for aid.

This doesn’t mean I forgive you. 

S​esshomaru travels to meet Kohaku on a slayer’s trip, and a gust of wind floats by his side the entire way.

This doesn’t mean I forgive you. 

O​n the anniversary of the day Kagura lived again, they meet one another in an overgrown forest and don’t part ways until half a week later.

-

“Please?” Rin begs, tugging on Kagura’s arm. Though she’s well past the appropriate age for such childish actions, no one objects when she spends her parents’ visits practically glued to the wind witch’s side. “Lord Sesshomaru won’t tell me.”

“Ah.” Kagura glances over to where he stands in the corner, inspecting a weapon that Kohaku has mounted on the wall. “So you​ were l​istening to me, for once.”

“You said you wanted to keep it a secret,” he drones, carefully obscuring the relief that still arises in him that they can speak like this to one another, again. Things have progressed between them more than he could have ever imagined in the past few months; some days, he can almost believe that things will be like they were before.

Rin sighs in a long, guttural motion that sounds too much like his brother for Sesshomaru’s liking. “​Please?​ Jaken said it was good news.”

“Oh, of course that stupid frog would be the one to--”

“​Kaguraaaa​.” “Okay, fine.” The witch’s hand travels up to her hair, picking nervously at the feathers twisted into the base of her bun. “You’re going to have a sister by the time it’s autumn.”

Rin’s mouth drops; her head snaps over to where Lord Sesshomaru is trying very hard to look too busy to participate in the conversation. “What? But I thought you two were still--how did this even--” Her hands grip Kagura’s shoulders tightly. “Are you ​okay​?”

He’s apprehensive about the same thing. When everything on Earth still reminds them of Akinori, would another child only bring fear and resentment into the picture? Only by some strange miracle had they salvaged what tragedy had broken - the stress of another birth could easily rupture the wound again.

“I’m okay.” Kagura shrugs in a poor attempt to hide her discomfort. “Definitely didn’t miss the morning sickness, though.”

Rin sticks to her even more closely after that.

-

Mirai is born during a storm, a week and two days earlier than she is supposed to arrive. Despite the timing, she is red-faced and lively, screaming from her mother’s arms the moment she can breathe.

When she is old enough, her parents will take her to meet her older sister, and the grave of her older brother. Her grandfather’s sword and her mother’s fan will be her sixteenth birthday gifts.

But for now, she rests in the crook of her mother’s arm, lulled asleep by the wind.

“She sure is loud,” Kagura mumbles, tracing a tiny ear with one finger. “Guess we should prepare for a sleepless winter.”

Sesshomaru hums wordlessly in agreement. As he shifts, to shield them both from the cold seeping through the nearby window, Kagura grabs his arm with her free hand.

“I don’t blame you anymore, by the way.” Her words slur with fatigue. “I haven’t for a long time.”

He could tell her that her forgiveness is not necessary to keep them together. That, regardless of what she does, he will always blame himself first and foremost.

Instead, Sesshomaru leans over to rest his chin atop her head. “Sleep, now.”

“Right, right.” Her eyes close, lips turning up in what is unmistakably a smile. “You better stay where you are, or else...”

He would not be able to step away if he wanted to.

[mcfreakin-bxtch]

Hello! I hope you're doing okay over there. Are your requests open? If so, could you do a Din x reader with the reader sketching him (the child and their special moments together) when she thinks he isn't looking, but one day he finds the sketchbook? If they're closed just ignore the request but hold on tight to the wishes of good furtune and health ♥ Stay safe!

I’m hanging in there sweet anon and I hope you’re doing okay too (okay but this is so cute omg).

Warnings: It’s really just two dorks and good ole fluff. Some of this is unedited as well

*Reminder that the forum for my taglist is still up and pinned!

__________________________________________ 

If he would turn slightly to the left, you’d be able to get the perfect angle you need to finish the sketch. 

The helmet reflects the glare of the stars, illuminating a bright shine around the top of the beskar and stinging your eyes just a little when you look up at it. You can’t help but do it anyway. The Child is asleep, a day of actually getting to use those little feet of his wore him out - you love the little one, but you and Din have exhausted yourselves keeping up with finding him his home and protecting him at the same time; this peace and quiet right now is highly overdue.

The pencil glides easily against the paper, connecting every line to another, creating another favorite of yours; the perfect piece of art that’s sitting in front of you, unaware of the stacks of sketches that you’ve drawn silently in the whatever corner you can lurk in. To be honest, with as attentive as he is, you’re surprised he hasn’t caught on to you yet. 

You’re so lost in finishing the shades that you don’t notice the Mandalorian turning slightly towards you in his seat. He watches your brows furrow in deep concentration, the light scratching in the air a comfort to him since the months of hearing it. He’s never actually seen any of your drawings, however, and he knows that one day the curiosity will get the better of him and he’ll ask... eventually. 

Truth is he’s not all the sure on why he hasn’t asked you yet, despite the growing and gnawing interest with teeth that grows sharper and longer as more time goes on. And it’s not like you’ve ever brought it up, either. It’s been this unspoken thing between the two of you - a dance that’s familiar in any language; of scared love and child-like curiosity that seeps into something deeper.

That’s exactly what he’s afraid of. 

It’s in this moment of sensing a pair of eyes on you - the pair of eyes you can’t see, but imagine they must be green, or brown more than anything. For a moment, you’re almost afraid to find out.

With a small intake of air you will your head to tilt up. The visor spins away so quick that it’s almost comical, and you bite your lip to suppress the giggle bubbling in your chest. 

“Din,” you call his name teasingly. “Is there something you wanted?”

It’s almost too hard to hide the laughter when his helmet jolts towards you, like he’s surprised that you called him out on it. 

“I -” You think you hear a gulp through the statics of the vocoder. “- I was... I was just wondering what you were drawing. I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable.”

Your heart skips a beat at the sincerity of his apology, and the fact that he was watching you, which has you wondering if this is a reoccurrence you’ve been blind to this entire time.

“It doesn’t,” you voice croaks. “It’s-it’s nothing really. Just the ship, whatever I see throughout the day.” You sit up, still clutching the book to your chest. “I’m going to check on the kid. Call for me if you need anything.”

When the hell did the air get so thick like this? You feel bad, so bad, and a part of you wants to desperately show him this simple thing that he just wants to look at, but... but he’ll know. One look and he’ll know.

“Okay,” the modulator cracks - you wonder what it’s masking right now, what you can’t hear through the robotic statics. “You can rest too while you’re at it. I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

You nod and awkwardly wave your departure, climbing down on wobbly legs to the hull and the cot the Child is asleep on; you’re relieved to see that he’s still bundled in his blanket, a peaceful expression gracing his features. 

It’s here you feel the fatigue settling on your shoulders. The dull beating You sigh and settle inside the small space, careful of your weight and making yourself as comfortable as you can get. With the book and pencil still in hand, you decide to finish the little details of his belt. 

***

Mando sighs as thoughts of you plague his mind once more. 

That, and the fact that he needs to sleep at least an hour before the landing at the next destination. 

He keens his ears for any sings of movements down in the hull, but when he hears nothing he climbs down to ladder in quiet, graceful strokes. 

The dim light does absolute injustice to your features in his opinion. It’s the first thing he notices, not the Child is gurgling over your open sketchbook that’s sprawled out on your lap as you sleep. 

“Kriff,” he curses under his breath and rushes as quietly as he can towards the bunk. He tries to keep his eyes averted of the drawings, but he can’t help it, especially when the Child pouts and slaps against the page when his hand clasps around it. 

It’s... well, it’s him. He’s leaning against the wall of what he can tell is the Razor Crest based off the small details you made sure to put in - he really admires that. Down at his feet is the little one, grinning up at him. Beneath the helmet that’s shielded him from the rest of the world for almost all his life, he smiles back; orange caresses the rough paper, imagining that he can actually feel it through the lead and gloves. 

The next page is of a planet he cannot name off the top of his head, but he can’t shake the feeling that it’s of home. 

Each page is filled with memories; past and present etched and filled with the kind of skill and warmth that can never be replaced; promises of mystery tied in like a piece of string. Most of them towards the end are of him and the Child. Small moments, mostly, like when he fell asleep with the kid secured to his armored-less chest, and moments when it’s him, sitting in the pilot’s seat or his cape flowing behind him as he walks away to a new bounty or clue to the Child’s powers.

He recognizes them with a deep fondness that makes his head swirl with all types of emotions. Din knows what they mean, but it’s the fear. Yet each drawing - he’s on the one from hours ago - scolds each inch of doubt within him, and in this he finds a type of bravery he’s hasn’t faced much before; it makes it more terrifying to him. 

“I like to draw what makes me happy.”

Your voice startles him from his thoughts. He’s never frozen up like this before - at least long ago - but now it feels like your stare alone is the only thing keeping him grounded to this spot. The doe like expression on your face the guilt that started to creep within his chest dissipates. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, because he still feels that he needs to apologize. “The kid had it and I... he likes the one where he found that flower.”

You smile widely at that, looking down at the child in question as you sit up. Din silently watches you climb out from the bunk and takes a few steps back to let you lean against the cold interior. 

“That’s one of my favorites, too,” you say; proudly, Din thinks. “And the one where you fell asleep in the pilot’s chair... you were so tired that day and I kept trying to get you to rest and let me take over, but you can be so stubborn sometimes, you know that?”

His chuckle radiates the room, and fuck it, it could radiate the entire galaxy. Yours join in with ease, but it quickly dies down, though not awkwardly or uncomfortably; it feels natural among the countless other laughs you’ve shared over the years. 

“I um - “ you clear your throat nervously, battling with the endless fluttering of butterflies in your stomach and the shakiness in your voice. “- I guess this is a good time to say that I really like you, Din. And I’ve been drawing these sketches of as many of these moments as I can because they’re so precious to me.” You take a deep breath. “Just like the Child is. Just like you are.”

You finish with a light scoff. It’s quiet, you have to pee, and you hope to the Maker above that this isn’t how your journey with Din ends; you should really open your eyes and at least do something if he’s just going to keep standing there. 

“I like you, too.” 

Your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets when those words reach your ears. It feels like your heart just stopped beating, your body frozen, and your thoughts bouncing wildly around like a blaster; that crackled laugh (that you know somehow is soft) brings you back to your body, back to the man standing closer to you know and slowly reaching his hand out. 

You glance at it before tracing your eyes over the worn out boots that’s seen better days, the scratched and scraped armor that you have shared more than enough time cleaning and polishing, the signet that the Mandalorian never fails to honor proudly, even in his own quiet ways; and now the helmet, the t-shaped visor that shields him.  

In this you find no fear. The weight of his hand in yours settles you and the soft link of his pinky with yours brings a stinging to your eyes. 

“I can’t do this alone,” he says. “And I want this to work. The Creed -”

“I know,” you interject quietly. “It’s not always going to be easy. But we got this, just like always, don’t we?”

“At least one of us has to.” 

His heart warms when the loudest snort he’s ever heard you make jolts the Child from his sleep, blinking those big eyes wearily as your muffled laugher continues against your fingers. “You should get some sleep now,” you tell him. “I got this one.”

It feels very natural to lean down and pick the Child up and smile at Din with assurance; he feels the air in his lungs draw out of him until he literally starts to feel breathless, and his lips stretch in a smile - it’s small and shy; hopeful. 

After he makes sure that the hull is closed off and lays his helmet by the plates of his armor (one of the rare times he actually can), settling onto the unforgiving but familiar cot, he imagines you’ll make a fuss about the scar on his nose with a pencil and book in your hands. 

Tags:  @talesfromtheguild, @absurdthirst, @chews-erotically, @hiwelcometochillys, @legally-a-bastard, @bluengrayfox, @pascaliprincess, @oloreaa, @thisis-theway, @jaynoellef, @ben-is-a-hoe, @hayley-the-comet, @pascalisthepunkest, @kenedyybrooklin, @garrshep, @paintmekala, @marian, @fit-fierce-gamer, @altersw, @hoodedbirdie

[otonymous]

A Bolt From The Blue (MLQC Shaw - NSFW) - Part IV (End): Courage, My Love

Description: The final chapter.  The Big Bang 😉  Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language & mature themes — reader discretion is advised.  Potential trigger warnings: physically aggressive behaviour, ex-boyfriends, angst, size kink, profanity, vaginal fingering and intercourse Word Count: 4237 words (~21 mins of thrills, real talk, fluff and smut) Author’s Notes: To all the lovelies who have been patiently following this story: you’ve made it! 🥳  Welcome to the final chapter in this Shaw saga, where we aim to go out with a massive bang (pun intended 😆).  Once again, thank you all for every like, reblog, and comment I’ve received on this story.  You are all amazing, and I appreciate your support! 💕

As always, tagging the lovely @op-peccatori​ — I hope you enjoyed this story!  I certainly had lots of fun writing this!  Please note the potential trigger warnings listed above, dear readers, and happy reading! 

Jump to Chapter(s): One | Two | Three

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The quiet is back.

But there is no peace, no relief in the monotony that follows after the man known as Shaw burst into your life like a bolt from the blue, stirring up long forgotten feelings like dead leaves animated by a carefree wind — here one minute, gone the next.

And with each passing day, hope erodes.

Little by little, your heart learns not to race as the clock above the magazine rack approaches 1:30.

It becomes harder to remember the sound purple sneakers made walking through the store.

You stop hoping, wishing, to see a head of lavender hair; that the next person to approach the register would place a cup of Pepsi mixed with Coke on the counter, amber-eyed gaze speaking volumes without uttering a single word.

Days become weeks, and then eventually…

…you stop counting them altogether.

* * *

“You’re looking good.  I see you’re doing well for yourself.”

He reaches for the jade pendant hanging around your neck, eyes flashing with amusement when you hit his hand away with an audible smack.

“What the hell do you want?  Haven’t you already done enough?” You say through grit teeth, steps quickening as you head for the better lit part of the street, trying to outpace the man and silently cursing the fact that returning to the convenience store was no longer an option at this point.

“C’mon baby, don’t be like that.  It took a lot of effort to track you down and I waited a very long time for you to get off work.  It’s cold, dark and lonely out here.  Is that any way to treat your boyfriend?  Or friend, at least?”

“ ‘Ex-boyfriend,’ asshole, and you’re no friend of mine, especially not after the way you took my life’s savings and ran.”

“Baby, it wasn’t like that—”

“Oh yeah?!  Did you try telling that to the loan sharks too before they came and trashed my place?  I had to move, Leto, because it wasn’t safe for me anymore, not with the way they kept harassing me and the neighbours asking about your whereabouts.  They even came to my office.  I lost my fucking job.  So don’t come around here and tell me that I’m doing well for myself.”

Breaking into a sprint, your mind races as you try to think of a way to lose your ex, anger and anxiety prickling every nerve in equal measure.  He had ruined your life, singlehandedly taken away everything you had.  And though you had known him once, desperation has a way of making monsters out of men.

And right now, for all you knew, he was desperate and dangerous.

“Please, I just want to talk.  I don’t need much this time, just a little bit to get me through this rough patch.  I’ll pay you back, I swear, just…just STOP FOR A MOMENT!—”

You shriek to feel Leto wrap his hand about your wrist, but before he could tighten his grip, another arm is thrown around your shoulder, pulling you back until you’re pressed up against a hard, muscular chest, staring at a close up of Snoopy riding a skateboard.

“You got business with my girl?”

That voice.  Dangerous and cocksure, yet comforting like nothing else as the muffled words reverberate through the tiny bones of your ear, a prelude to the soothing ba-bump of his heart, rhythm steady and concrete as the ground upon which you stood.

Shaw.

He’s really here.

“Hehe.  Your girl?”  The derision in Leto’s voice makes you sick to your stomach; you can’t help but hold your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop as he looks Shaw up and down, zeroing in on his old t-shirt.  “Tsk, tsk.  So, not only do you enjoy wearing second hand clothing, you also have the habit of picking up sloppy seconds?”

BOOM!

Deafening thunder rolls moments after a bolt of lightning rends the night sky in two, throwing a jagged spotlight on the fury written on Shaw’s face when he moves just as fast to grab a fistful of Leto’s collar.  The muscles of his forearm bulge as he holds up the entirety of Leto’s bodyweight in one hand, the sky opening in a sudden downpour as your ex struggles in midair, rain dripping almost comically from dangling feet.

And when Shaw brings Leto’s terrified face up close, the ferocity in those amber eyes sends a chill up your spine.

“This is the last time you’ll ever talk to her, see her, even think about her.  Or else I’ll find you and take my sweet time making you wish you were never born, do you understand me?”

Head bobbing in vigorous nods, drops of water fly off the tips of Leto’s rain-slicked hair.  Seemingly satisfied, Shaw tosses him onto the ground at your feet, voice low yet audible as it cuts through the din of the storm when he says, “Beg for her forgiveness.”

The fear in his expression almost palpable, Leto looks between you and Shaw — cowardice etched onto features you had once found so pleasing a lifetime ago.  He prostrates himself onto the wet pavement, voice cracking in between sobs as he yells over the sound of the rain:

“P-please…please forgive me!  I’m a piece of shit!  I’m nothing, I’m garbage!  I…I deserve to go to Hell for what I did to you!  I-I’m so sorry!  Please forgive me!”

Leto reaches out a shaky hand towards your soaked shoes before he remembers Shaw’s warning, but it is too late.  Black combat boots hit the concrete hard within an inch of Leto’s face as Shaw stoops, yanking back a fistful of hair and pulling until your ex is looking up at you like a pitiful supplicant begging for mercy.

“Satisfied?”  Shaw looks to you as if he were asking about something as mundane as the weather.  You nod, suddenly too tired to even speak.  You wanted to wash your hands of Leto, wanted nothing to do with all that had happened since you finished your shift at the convenience store.  All you could do was watch as Leto scrambled away on all fours the moment Shaw loosened his hold, running until he was nothing more than a speck of darkness merging with the night.

The rain is cold, wetness driving against your body to leech even the final bits of warmth from bone.  Your clothes are drenched, heavy as they cling uncomfortably to skin.  But you are too drained to care, lacking the energy to even notice when the dim light of the streetlamp above is blotted out — Shaw holding his leather jacket over your head in the place of an umbrella.

All you are aware of before your vision goes dark is the anxiety in his voice when he calls your name over and over again, how weightless it felt to be carried in the cradle of his arms.  

How much you missed the scent you thought you had learned to forget.

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

“Finally awake, Sleeping Beauty?”

You opened your eyes to gaze into irises of warm amber, the situation similar to one you experienced before except for the fact that this time, you were the one lying in bed, staring at a man who sat on its edge, brows knit with concern beneath soft lavender strands.

“If you slept for any longer, I would’ve had to knock on your neighbour’s door.” Shaw chuckles but the sound is hollow, mirthlessness obvious like the blanched knuckles of his tightly clenched fists.

“What…how did we…” You begin, voice raspy as it dies, a sudden sharp pain in your throat making you wince.

And immediately, Shaw is on his feet, rummaging through cupboards in your kitchen until he finds a glass.  You watch him run the tap, fill it to the brim.  Feel the strength of his arm around your back as he holds you up, touch lingering even as you down the water in gulps to chase the discomfort away.

“You passed out not long after your douchebag of an ex ran off with his tail between his legs.  I found your keys in your purse, so I let myself into your apartment — hope you don’t mind.  Although, to be fair, I was also carrying you at the time, so it’s not really breaking and entering.”

Head feeling like it would explode as the events of the evening come rushing back, you turn towards him…slowly…slowly, afraid Shaw might disappear before your eyes should any movement prove too sudden.

Thank him.  Now.  Before he goes away again.

He is close, so close that you can count those long, beautiful lashes; almost feel the minuscule shifts in the air between you every time he blinks — those pupils encroaching onto gold as they expand and pulling you into their depths as they do.

“Why are you doing this?”

He doesn’t flinch at your question, and you can’t bring yourself to be shocked by the discrepancy between what you meant to say and the words actually spilling from your lips.  And as the grey memory of days spent counting the hours of his absence settles like lead in the pit of your stomach, the only thing you knew was that your heart couldn’t survive latching onto this sliver of hope only to have it ripped away again.

All you wanted…was the truth.

“Because I can’t stand to see you sad anymore.”

There is no smirk to stretch across that handsome face, only pain that hurts your heart to see it.  Resignation heavy in his voice, Shaw takes a deep breath before he continues.

“Turns out I’m weak when it comes to you.  Selfish.  I know I’m no good for you; there’s no future with me.  I can’t give you anything, can’t even promise you tomorrow, but…I just can’t stop thinking about you.  Wondering how you are.  Whether you’re eating well, sleeping well.  If you’re safe…happy.

“Tonight wasn’t supposed to happen.  I just wanted to make sure you got home okay, that some asshole wasn’t going to hassle you at work.  But then your ex showed up and when he tried to get fresh with you, well…I couldn’t let that slide.

“Listen, I don’t know what’s wrong with me but…I’m sorry, if I ever made you sad, if I scared you.  I’m sorry for everything.”

His gaze drops to the rip in his jeans, the drip, drip of the leaky faucet the only sound in the ensuing silence of his confession.  That is, until you say,

“I’m sorry too…that you’re such an idiot.”

His head whips up, brows furrowed and mouth slack as if caught in a rare moment of speechlessness.  The shock makes him seem years younger, lending him an air of innocence that you couldn’t help but smile at.

“In case it wasn’t obvious, I’m a grown woman, capable of making my own decisions.  I’m not so naïve that I don’t know what I would be getting into by being with you.  You say you can’t promise me tomorrow, but tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone.  All we can ask for — hope for — is the here and now.  

“Love takes courage, as does life.  But a life without love…it’s not much of a life, is it?  So I’m willing to be brave if that’s what it’ll take for us to be together.”

As quickly as they came, the words are gone, leaving you cotton-mouthed and faint as your heart pounds to send the blood rushing to your ears.  That could’ve been the only explanation as to why Shaw’s “I knew there was a reason why I loved you” sounded so muffled you had to ask him to repeat himself.

“Too bad, I only say things once.”

And there it is again: the spark in his eyes, smirk on those lips — igniting the fire you only allowed yourself to feel in dreams of his body on yours, skin to skin like kindling to flame.

“Are you that single-minded about everything?”  You ask, the smile on your face mirroring his as it approaches closer…

“Only when it comes to not letting go of the one I care about.”

…closer…

“Tell me one thing.”  Your voice is barely above a whisper.

…and closer still.

Lips now a hair’s breadth apart, the gentle rhythm of his exhalation blows soft upon your cupid’s bow; a shy request.  Your vision is filled with him, wonderfully awash with colour — lavender, amber, the soft pink of his mouth — and you wished you were the very clothes upon his body; saturated in his intensity, dyed in his hues.

His eyes fixate on your tongue when you wet your lips before asking, “That night, when you were hurt so badly you passed out in my store…why did you still insist on coming in?”

Shaw’s breath catches, hitching in his throat.  You know because you can feel it, the way the warmth stops short on your skin.  And when he speaks, the eyes that hold yours tell you this is no lie.

“Because if it was going to be the last night of my life, I didn’t want to go without seeing your face one more time.”

Love is a funny thing.  Formless, senseless, yet the strongest thing that could bind two strangers.  You hadn’t known Shaw for long, could count the days you spent together on one hand.  And still, entirely without reason, he bled into each and every hour, crept into the darkest corners of your mind to fill your weary heart with a desperation that made it very clear that love was far from done with you.

That right or wrong, the only place you wanted to be was here — held in the arms that wrapped around your body: hot, tight, safe…

…Shaw.

His lips are softer than you ever imagined when he brings his face to yours, plush silk gliding corner to corner to cover your mouth in reverent kisses — one for each night he came into your store, watched over you from afar.  

Your stalwart protector.

You tasted it now, the remnants of cinnamon on his tongue from the gum he was so fond of chewing, intensified by the memory of all the times you wondered about its flavour: pink bubbles popping in his mouth as he coolly dealt with the robber, the night you emptied his pockets as your neighbour stitched him up on your bed.

Shaw tasted sweet.  Far sweeter than you ever imagined.

And when his tongue slides against yours — slow and sure as it explores your mouth with increasing fervour before drawing back just as you clenched around emptiness, yearning for more, the beast within you refuses to abide.

You like the shock that passes over his face when you move, sudden and forceful, to push him onto the mattress beneath you; the artless way Shaw sinks teeth into his bottom lip in response.  You like how he watches as you straddle his hips — gaze earnest and body honest, hardening as you grind undulating circles upon his groin.

But, perhaps most of all, you liked the spark of something wild in those amber eyes, an unpredictability warning that if you weren’t careful, you’d be the one to find yourself pinned to the bed.

Because wasn’t that ultimately the push-and-pull that characterized so much between you and him?  Maddening at times, but always, always binding you to Shaw like some red string of fate.

So you nod when he whispers “May I?”, unable to suppress a moan to finally feel his hands on you: tracing along your jaw, cradling your face…resting the pad of his finger on your lip before pushing past to stroke your tongue.

Every sound he makes pleases; the soft hiss preceding the bob of his Adam’s apple to feel your lips pucker around his finger to suck, pink tongue enticing as it swirls along the length of that digit, drawing it deeper into the hot wetness of your mouth.

You never saw yourself as seductive before, but Shaw made you feel sexy.  Perhaps the impulse stemmed from some primitive desire, an instinctive call to please the man you felt so profoundly for that shame was the farthest thing from your mind when you pulled his hand from your lips to guide it to your breast, only partially aware of how wet you were becoming from his gaze alone — half-lidded and heavy with lust.

The heat of his touch permeates your blouse, white and transparent still in patches from the rain.  You watch his hands as they play: cupping your breasts in a gentle squeeze, thumbs and forefingers catching your nipples to pinch and roll until they stood stiff against the drape of your clothing, the flush of your flesh bold through fabric.

“You’re so beautiful that there are times I think you can’t possibly be real.”

His voice is low, husky.  You let it wash over you, almost frightened by how stupidly happy you become, willing the magic to linger even as his words dissipate amongst the sounds of the night: neon buzzing and the faraway screams of sirens in the distance.

A world apart.

Your hands find the broad expanse of his chest, tracing along muscle before circling the nipples that stood erect against his damp t-shirt.  Each twitch is endearing, every erratic breath he draws to feel your touch making you fall harder.  And when he tries to focus on unbuttoning your blouse while fighting the impulse to tear it clean off your body, the stirring between your legs grows in intensity until he finally pulls the silken panels aside, a quiet gasp escaping his lips to see his necklace nestled between your breasts.

“It really does belong on you.”  

The admiration in his tone is laced with a hint of possessiveness that makes you throb.  Shaw pushes himself to sitting, gathering you onto his lap in one smooth motion as he buries his face in your chest, inhaling deep.  You gasp to feel gentle teeth sink into the flesh of your breasts, Shaw following the chain of precious metal with his lips until it leads to the pendant.  And when his tongue slips out to draw the piece of jade into his mouth, he brings your nipple along with it.

“Oh!…”

The sensation is unlike any you’ve known before, the soft wetness of his pliant tongue a searing contrast with the cool, smooth stone rubbing against the sensitive tip of your breast in equal measure.  You feel his smile on your skin when you fist your hands into lavender hair, spine curving as your legs begin to tremble.

And he had yet to touch you below the waist.

“Your body responds so well to me.  I knew you were a good girl.”  He looks up at you, teasing shamelessly even as he continues to lavish attention on your breasts.

“Just your girl, if you’ll have me,” you say without second thought, long past the point of caring to keep your cards close to your chest.

Something breaks in that expression, the final walls crumbling like dust when Shaw blinks once…twice, revealing eyes that shine with emotion when he replies, “For the rest of my life, if you’ll have me.”

* * *

“Hmm!—”

Your moan is muffled, swallowed by Shaw’s greedy lips like he does with every sound of ecstasy that leaks like you do around his cock, buried impossibly deep in your body as it rocks back and forth, back and forth on his muscular thighs…

…doing your best to adjust to his ample size.

He had barely suppressed a chuckle when you first slipped your hand into his jeans, a subtle mix of pride and amusement on his face to see your eyes widen when you couldn’t quite wrap palm and fingers around the entirety of his girth.

And foreplay had only just begun.

“Still doing okay?” Shaw asks, touch tender as he brushes loose strands of hair from your eyes, lips smoothing along the apple of your cheek to feel its pink heat.  “We can go as slow as you want, there’s no rush.  If it’s too much, we can stop—”

“No!  No…I’m okay.  More than okay, I’m great.  Please…please don’t stop…don’t stop…”

Struggling to string words together, your breath comes in disjointed pants as Shaw begin to thrust up — the look on his face effortlessly sensual when he bites his lip to feel you spasm around him, tight wetness yielding in increments to accommodate his body as it broke new ground.

For you had never taken a man of that size, the litheness of Shaw’s muscular body belying the impressive package he’d been hiding in those jeans.  Your jaw ached just to look upon the length of that thick cock, mouth watering as a fresh wave of arousal made you press your thighs tighter together.  The movement didn’t go unnoticed.  Shaw had drawn you to him then — deft fingers dipping low to trace the outline of your swollen folds through moist panties, lavender head bending to kiss its lacy trim.

He took his time preparing you, licking his fingers before he eased them into your pussy — first one, then two…curling deep until the slippery sounds of arousal told him the time was ripe to introduce the third, leaving you blooming for him even as he whispered, “Think you’re ready for me to make you my girl for real?”

It borders on overwhelming, this sensation of fullness — between your legs, within your heart.  And as skin stretched to capacity to accommodate the sweet friction of his slide, you wished there was a way for the euphoria of this connection to last forever:

To the one you could never forget, no matter how hard you tried.

To this man you loved like no other.

“Shaw.”

His name is faint on your breath when he falls back onto the bed, taking you with him.  And as you found yourself straddling his hips once more, the altered angles of your bodies gave him the leverage to make you gasp when he begins to thrust in earnest.  The eroticism of his face, lost in lust, drives all thoughts from your mind as you drop a hand to your clit, fingers drawing tight circles before his hungry eyes.

The violence of your climax takes you by surprise, having no time to consider neighbours and thin walls as the lewdest sounds escape your lips at high volume.  Intense convulsions wracking your body in waves, you clench in time around your lover.  The sensation proves too much to bear, drawing out Shaw’s own release as he pulls out to spill onto the folds of your pussy — swollen and pink and trembling still beneath the coat of his pearlescent seed.

* * *

“I love you.”  

Morning light trickles across your walls like the slow crawl of spidery legs.  Shaw’s words hang in the air between you, a final, sacred moment shared between lovers before the rest of the world wakes.

You loved the hoarseness in his voice; a testament to the hours of noisy lovemaking you had shared in lieu of sleep.

You loved the weight of his hand, stroking softly at the crown of your head.

You loved the rhythm of his heart, echoing just below your ear to confirm his existence.

“I love you too.”

You look up into those amber eyes, trying to discern whether those four little words were sufficient in conveying that fact that you adored every fibre of the man before you.

The smile that graces his face in return is tender, honest…more brilliant than the day breaking in the East.

Your hands find his body, bare beneath the sheets.  And as a curious finger traces along the ridge of the scar that runs in a broad stroke across his sculpted abdomen, your gaze falls on his t-shirt, draped over the back of a chair.

“You should probably throw that Snoopy shirt away, especially after what happened last night.”

Shaw follows your line of sight, chest rising and falling in a deep sigh.  “Shitty as its previous owner was, I could never bring myself to hate something that reminds me of you.  Aside from saving my ass, this was the first gift you ever gave me.  And I never throw away gifts from my girl.”

His girl.

The mystery of life is that filled with unknowns though it is, we continue to live, brave in the face of the uncertainty that comes with every passing day.  You had no idea what fate had in store for you or Shaw, had no way of knowing if your relationship existed on borrowed time.  

The only thing you were certain of was that your feelings for each other were real, that try as you might, neither of you were very good at forgetting the other.  That in this moment, here and now, the only thing that mattered was this love that hit you…

…like a bolt from the blue.

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Thanks so much for reading!  I hope you all enjoyed this Shaw saga! 💖 

Check out more of my work here! 📚 (Please do not repost/copy/alter my work.  Reblogs, on the other hand, are perfectly fine and much appreciated! 💖👍🏼)

Jump to Chapter(s): One | Two | Three

[paper-n-ashes]

sparks and embers - chapter 3

Characters: Poe Dameron x Original Female Character, Kylo Ren x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron

Chapter 3 - The Return

Words: 4k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: medical descriptions and procedures, some sexual themes - mainly in the form of OC being thirsty AF

Read on AO3 or Start from the beginning

~

On the way back from the East village, filled with the Gossams, humans and other alien species who had similarly escaped to a simpler life, I couldn’t help but curse at myself for giving in so easily to the pleas of a good-looking stranger.

Aiding someone merely for their physical appearance? How horribly unprofessional.

The voice in the back of my mind was loud. And curiously judgemental.

It had been over a full day cycle since I’d departed the clinic, making Poe vow to remain within the confines of his bed until I had returned. I’d left him with enough food for two days of my travelling, hygiene supplies, a drip running slowly for some pain relief and range of tools for him to attempt getting BB-8 up and running, hoping he wouldn’t have any reason to struggle getting out of bed.

The thought of his still fragile femur bone breaking and splitting the artery I’d spent all my energy on mending was beyond frightening. I worried about him every minute I was awake, imagining any number of complications that would leave me a corpse to find when I arrived back.

Bleeding, clots, stroke, infection, sepsis.

It wasn’t easy to slip those thoughts from my mind in the lone starkness of the Raxus countryside. There wasn’t really anything to look at except grass and sky, nothing to distract me from the worst case scenarios.

I’d convinced some of my old patients to join my cause, promising them better medicine and equipment if I was only able to have a comm-tower to order everything I needed. It didn’t seem like lying. The comm-tower really was my only link to the rest of the galaxy, and I would have needed it fixed anyway. Only now, time seemed to be more of the essence.

After spending the night amongst the locals I had grown to be familiar with over the last few years, I’d begun the trek back with the knowledge at least one problem had been solved. Some promised spare parts, others were going to follow my path within the next day cycle to get my comm-link back online. I hadn’t divulged all the story, at least not the part about this repair job apparently being a determining factor in the fate of the galaxy.

I hadn’t pressed Poe about what that meant exactly. I was used to the Resistance and their soldiers having somewhat of a flair for the dramatic when it came to war, after healing many of their battle wounds in years past. I knew how fervently they believed in their cause - that they were the only thing standing between galaxy wide harmony and First Order dictatorship.

I understood their hope of peace in our lifetime, but I’d lost mine a long time ago. Good, bad, they were just two sides of a coin that would flip for eternity, desperately chasing power for their own reasons.

In truth, I didn’t particularly care. I just hoped to live my life somewhat free from the burden of picking a side.

*

Before unlocking the clinic door, my feet aching from hiking for 6 straight hours, I drew in a long breath with a silent prayer I wouldn’t be walking in to find a dead body. With a fluid motion I turned the handle and pushed the door open, my head popping in first around the entryway to where Poe’s hospital bed stood. He immediately heard the latch clicking and shot his head up to meet with my eyes.

“You’re back,” he smiled, as I noted how much colour had returned to his face during my absence.

He looked so much better.

For the first time, I found myself studying his face, my stare tracing from his strong angular jawline to his high cheekbones, the prominence of his nose, the whiskey colour of his large cheerful eyes, his tousled deep brown hair. Then I took in his wide grin, shapely pink lips curled upwards to show perfectly set white teeth.

Stars, he’s so handsome.

In the muddle of memories I’d conceived from the night of his crash I’d not recognised, at least not during the time I was struggling to keep him alive, how attractive he was. And now with his health a far better picture than the last time I’d seen him, it was all I could notice. My heart quivered through a beat as he beamed at me, soon realising his smile was more a reflection of the prospective good news I brought with my return, making it settle back into a normal rhythm.

“Hi,” I breathed, walking closer and setting my pack down at the foot of the hospital bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he answered, “The smaller burns are almost gone, and my chest wound is closed, look!” He pulled up the grey hospital shirt I’d managed to change him into before I had to leave. This time when I saw the nakedness of his chest and abdomen I couldn’t help but stare at his softly defined muscles, all tensing during his movement. He was right, the hole below his rib now sealed, a newly-formed, pink scar in its place. The chest tube was still secured above it, now redundant.

“Gotta love bacta,” I hummed. “I can take that drain out now if you like.”

He looked at me incredulously. “You’ve just done a 30 hour round trip for me, not even sat down, and you want to dive head first into more treatment?”

“I... uh... I mean... I just wanted to help you feel better,” I stammered.

Poe shook his head, smirking. “It’s okay, I appreciate it. Really, I do. But I’m alright, the tube can wait. How about you rest for a second and tell me how the mission- I mean, trip, went?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Two days ago you were begging me to get going so I couldn’t waste any time, now you’re telling me I can take a load off?”

"Uh, yeah… Sorry about that,” he grimaced. “Having some time to think while you were gone... It made me realise everything you’d done and were doing for me - a stranger you had no reason to help." Poe took a long exhale before speaking again, his tone serious. "I was in a lot of pain, just woken up in a strange place. It’s still imperative to get a message back to the Resistance as soon as possible but... that’s not your burden to bear. I can't thank you enough for your help, but I'll try not to ask too much more of you.”

It seemed not only had his physical health improved, but logical thought and patience had returned.

I took my cue to sit on one of the opposite hospital beds, letting my feet dangle over the edge to kick my shoes off, feet pulsing with gratitude at their release. “There’s some villagers coming tomorrow,” I started. “They will hopefully have a new comm-tower up and running within the next couple of days. I told them about your droid too. There’s some spare parts in that bag.” I pointed my hand out to the satchel at Poe’s feet, glancing at the L shaped table beside his bed I’d set up. BB-8 was sitting on top of it, head and body still separated and now unbolted at separate points, wires haphazardly sticking out in different directions. Falling back into the mattress, I let out an exhausted sigh, relishing the feel of the squeaky mattress under my body.

“I really owe you. The Resistance owes you,” Poe praised after a few moments of silence, as I heard him begin to rummage through the satchel. I held back a frown, even when I knew he wouldn’t be able to catch sight of my face.

I didn’t do any of this for the Resistance.

It occurred to me then I wasn’t really sure why I’d done it at all. I had always been a sucker for those in poor predicaments, hence why I became a doctor in the first place. But the trek had nothing to do with treatment or medicine. It was purely at the behest of this pilot, who’s charming appearance in the dimmed orange light of the evening made my skin feel hot.

“So, how did a girl like you find herself in the middle of nowhere on the Outer Rim?” Poe questioned, fiddling with some of the parts.

I sat back up. “I’m not a girl. I’m 28. That’s a little too old to be called girl anymore.”

Poe chuckled, the sound of his laugh both warming and positively thrilling. “I apologise. How did a woman like you end up here?”

“I used to work on Coruscant, that’s where I started my medical training,” I explained, remembering the glittering planet I’d spent much of my young life on. “Then moved into the war relief efforts on medical frigates scattered throughout the galaxy. Treating wounded soldiers day in day out took its toll, having people constantly injured and almost dying for a war they didn’t start.” I glanced to Poe's expression, seeing a glow of understanding behind his eyes before I continued. “Plus, there were more than a few times I felt a little redundant. The medical droids they have kind of... made my treatment obsolete. I wanted to practice medicine in a place where adequate health care was rare or non-existent. I wanted to help those who were most desperate, who otherwise couldn’t afford it, those who would actually value the care of a live human doctor. So I picked a planet at random, and settled here."

The random part was an utter lie. No one had cared about Raxus since the Clone Wars, and the First Order wouldn’t make it their priority to conquer Outer Rim worlds for a while yet. It was a quiet, calm planet with countless refugees fleeing here to make peaceful new lives. They wouldn’t be concerned about old, rusty equipment, lower quality bacta or no medical droids. They would simply be happy at having a doctor within a day’s trek.

And no one would think of looking here for a Force user.

Poe studied me in quiet thought for a moment, taking in what I’d divulged. “Well, they're damn lucky, with how nicely you patched me up. You’d run circles around some of the doctors and medical droids at the Resistance base.” He grinned at me again, earnestly, another attempt to thank me for my work. I felt the pit of my stomach tense, and it wouldn’t retreat, the thought of his smile lingering in my mind even after he’d gone back to his tinkering.

It had to be because I’d been in isolation for so long, why I was reacting so strongly to the innocent smiles and compliments of a man I barely knew. I definitely wasn’t used to conversing with men so close in age to my own. Most of the local humans were older, married with children, and I rarely made conversation around any other topic than their illnesses.

“What... uh... Why were you flying over Raxus?” I asked awkwardly.

His eyebrows creased together as he looked back at me. “Raxus wasn’t my destination, but I... can’t tell you any more than that.”

“Oh…”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he urged. “It’s just, you know, highly confidential.” He seemed apologetic, like he owed me more of an explanation.

I nodded, agreeing the less I knew about the Resistance and their missions the better. “Well, you’ll be able to get back to it in a couple of days,” I insisted, breaking the awkward silence that had lingered. “Some time and a little bit more bacta and you’ll be like new again.”

“Actually, speaking of that,” he started, an uneasy expression now settling in his features. “I was wondering when you were thinking of letting me get out of this bed.”

“Depends on the reason Poe. I’d recommend starting your formal rehab tomorrow at the absolute earliest, otherwise we can get you up and walking if you need to do something… uh… specific.” There was no hiding the waver in my voice.

He laughed, louder than he had before, the sound making it difficult for me not to blush. “Aren’t you a doctor? Why are you embarrassed for me to use the bathroom?”

“Hey!” I frowned. “I was trying to save you from being embarrassed.”

He shook his head, still chuckling. “I’m alright on that front for now. I was actually hoping to use your refresher. It’s been a few days…”

“Oh of course!” I’d cleaned him up as much as I could before I’d left, getting rid of his obliterated flight suit and helping change into the bland hospital outfit I reserved for overnighters, but even to myself the idea of a shower was enticing.

A thought flashed into my mind of steaming water hitting Poe’s sun darkened skin, trickling down his toned body as he lathered himself in soap suds.

Woah.

Okay.

That was new.

It had been such a long time since I’d felt the fire of blood rushing to the lower portion of my abdomen, insides clenching at the heat so suddenly ignited.

Poe was looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue. I internally shook away the incriminating thoughts before they could be conveyed on my face. “How about I get that chest tube out first? Then I can help you to the ‘fresher?”

He breathed out in relief. “That would be fantastic.”

I stepped lightly off the hospital bed, walking shoe-less over to my medical trolley to drag it back to Poe’s side. And immediately, without me asking, he sat up and began a haphazard attempt to pull off his shirt, left arm bandaged and stiff, right arm enveloped in the cast I’d made and evidently still painful to move.

In a wordless reply, I helped him pull the fabric over his head, confronted with the image of a half-naked, strikingly handsome man in front of me.

I couldn’t believe I hadn’t recognised any of his raw allure when he’d been almost stripped completely bare by my own hands on the night of his crash. It seemed bizarre I wouldn’t have noted the strong, broadness of his shoulders, his armoured chest littered deliciously with dark hair, carved abdominal muscles tensed in waiting.

I swallowed hard, hoping Poe wouldn’t register my shaking hands as I prepared the tube removal kit. Snipping the sutures around the plastic, unsteady gloved fingers pulled out the tube as smoothly as I could manage, Poe flinching slightly at the sensation. He continued to look away as I injected some bacta gel into the wound, sealing it closed with a few new sutures and placing a waterproof dressing over the site.

“All done,” I settled. “Like nothing happened at all.”

Poe looked back to me and smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was obvious he remained troubled by the memories of his crash, and understandably so. I’d seen the same look in many other military personnel, the attempt to put on a brave face when images of fire, blood and terror pierced their thoughts. I desperately wanted to take his mind to a brighter place. “So, ready to try walking?”

“Absolutely! Lead the way doc.”

Ugh. Eventually I would have to correct him on that.

I stepped back from the side of the bed, arms stretched in readiness for when he inevitably stumbled. “Please take it slowly. Your muscles aren’t going to be pleased with what you’re doing after over two days of bed rest.”

“Sure thing,” Poe scoffed.

Typical male.

Initially he seemed to take my direction, moving his legs slowly from under the blanket, pain now registering on his features. He swivelled himself sluggishly to let his legs fall over the side of the mattress, breathing slightly heavier to push through the discomfort.

He was leaning more on his left side, right arm hovering over his thigh. Tentatively, he slipped his left foot onto the floor and shifted his weight onto it, pushing his hand into the mattress to help himself up.

Soon he was standing in front of me for the first time since we’d met, and even amongst all the burns, bruises, dressings and bandages, he looked impossibly strong, toned muscles wrapping his form.

He noticed the timid smile form on my lips.

“Hey don’t start laughing at me. I don’t think I could handle my ego being bruised along with the rest of me.”

“Oh... I wasn’t-,” I stumbled, quietly relieved he’d misread the reason behind my smirk.

He held his hand up in protest, grinning. “I was kidding. You’re welcome to laugh at the adult sized toddler learning to walk again.”  

It was difficult not to snicker at his words. “Come on,” I encouraged. “Just think of how nice that hot water will feel.”

He sighed in agreement and moved, taking a hesitant step onto the previously fractured leg. I swiftly froze with anxiety, even when the logical side of my brain told me both the break and the artery would have stabilised exponentially by now. But the emotional side, the part that remembered the rush of blood that had exploded from the wound site, nagged incessantly at me, insisting that this was a very bad idea.

My eyes were glued to Poe’s figure as he shifted his weight deliberately, muscles tensing at the trigger of pain he was likely feeling, before he made a delicate hop to move back onto his left leg.

Even that one haggard step appeared to take a lot out of him, but he seemed determined, eyebrows already wrinkled in concentration.  He continued the process a few times over, my arms still poised in waiting for the foreseeable stumble as I walked backwards. I couldn’t help but hold my breath as he limped, following me out of the clinic room into the hallway that lead to my office, the ‘fresher, and my living quarters all the way at the end.

His steps became faster, more confident, when all of a sudden, his balance wavered.

Reacting quickly, I stepped forward to catch him, arms circling under his own and around his torso, hands now gripping the muscles on his back as he crashed into me. I would have stayed there for a moment, my fingertips registering the warmth radiating off his skin, until I became fully aware where his face had fallen into.

I felt Poe’s heated exhale through the cotton of my white shirt after his face had collided into my chest, directly between my breasts. The twinge in my lower abdomen occurred again, breath hitching in my throat.

He scrambled to push himself back into a standing position, my arms releasing from around him, his hands clamping around my biceps as he fought to reclaim his steadiness again.

“I am so sorry!” he blurted, his face dangerously close to mine, only a small touch of redness visible under his caramel skinned cheeks. I knew my blushing would be much more pronounced.

“It’s okay,” I breathed. “I was waiting for that to happen.”

His eyes widened.

“Not that!” I yelped. “I meant you falling! I was waiting for you to fall!”

Poe’s face illuminated into a beaming grin. “Sure you did.”

I frowned in protest, but couldn’t stop the chuckle escaping. I shifted to face the same way as him, an arm curling around his torso, angling my body under his own. “How about I help you the rest of the way?”

His hand gripped onto my shoulder, the hardened squeeze making the tensing inside me ripple even faster.

Focus Alex.

Poe let me support him as he limped down the hallway, and I desperately tried to distance myself from the thoughts that swirled in my mind at being connected so closely.

Eventually we made it into the ‘fresher, a white and grey tiled room with the large, frameless shower enclosure taking up most of the space, the only privacy a plastic curtain that could be pulled across the entire spans of the room. I’d designed it with the idea there would be enough space to assist overnighter patient’s in washing themselves, since I didn’t have a nurse to do it for me. Yet, it still gave me the ability to provide some discretion by stepping out past the other side of the curtain, ready to swoop in if I was needed.

And that’s what I’d planned for Poe, knowing he was hardly the type of patient that was going to let me do anything for him if he could help it. Guiding him to the backless shower chair, I released him to his own devices and quickly pulled the curtain across. It was more for my own concealment at this point, needing to take a moment to settle myself down, the memory of his hold still lingering on my skin.

“I’ll be right here if you need any help okay? Everything you need will be on the shelf under the shower start button.”

“Thanks Alex,” he answered, his voice huffing out as I could hear he’d already started to shimmy down his pants.

Stop imagining it Alex. Stop thinking about him naked, a metre away, behind that thin curtain.

The sound of water rushing into the tile floor pulled me back into some impression of reality. I busied myself with organising my own hygienic supplies in the mirrored cupboard, desperately trying to think of anything other than the man hidden from my view, steam swirling around his figure, water dribbling down his bare skin. From behind the screen I heard a pleasant moan leave him, obviously enjoying the hot water battering into his aching muscles for the first time in days.

And with that sound I felt a twinge between my legs, heat swelling and rippling outwards through my body.

Stars, that was... hot.

It felt so unprofessional, to be tantalized by the thought of a man, a patient, in the middle of such a basic act of human hygiene. But I couldn’t deny he was more attractive than any patient I’d ever had in my life, and the thought of ripping open the curtain so I could join him was suddenly the most tempting thing in the galaxy.

I locked my hands onto the basin that stood in front of me, trying not to be overwhelmed by the sound of Poe lathering soap between his hands, then sliding over an unseen portion of his body.

It was then I started to pace, hoping the repetitive movement would stop me ruminating over the indecent notions my mind was conjuring. Minutes ticked by too slowly as I waited for him to finish his routine, begging for the irresistible pull of craving to be released from me.

“Hey Alex?” Poe suddenly called.

“What's wrong?” I squeaked, cursing at myself for sounding so startled.

“I actually need some help.”

Oh maker, why do you do this to me?

I swallowed hard. “Y-yeah. Sure. Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he began, voice sounding a little forced. “It’s just... with my left arm still bandaged, and my right arm still in the cast, I can’t wash my hair. I know it’s a little strange, but could you help me out?”

My heart ricocheted inside my rib cage, frolicking at the thought of seeing him soaked in water, fingers raking through his dampened hair.

Come on Alex, try to keep at least one shred of professionalism.

“Sure,” I agreed, a more competent tone saturating my voice as I withheld my internal fluttering. “Make yourself… uh… decent, and I’ll open the curtain.”

I heard Poe’s movement as he reached for one of the towels hanging on the rail nearby and wrapped it around his lower body. The flowing water soon came to a stop, the sudden silence making me feel uneasy.

“Ready.”

I placed myself in front of the curtain between us, his stature only barely visible through the clouded screen. My jaw was locked as I took a deep breath through my nose, meditating in thought, frantically clawing at a sense of calm.

Then I reached towards the plastic, clenched my hand around it, and pulled.

~

Next Chapter

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-PART 40

Weekend 7

Harry reached sharply at 8 and was warmly greeted by Lux who couldn't stop smiling. Theo was playing with Cliff and upon seeing Harry, both of them ran to him at once.

"Will Cliff be joining us?" Harry asked, scratching Clifford behind the ears.

"No," replied Theo sadly, "he is not allowed, so we're dropping him at the dog sitters place."

"Aww Cliffy we'll miss you,'' Harry patted Clifford before looking around for Louis.

Louis emerged right then from the room wearing an unbuttoned sap green shirt over a plain white tee, sunglasses hooked in the t-shirt, chocolate brown fringe falling over his eyes. He looked beautiful.

Louis caught him staring but was awestruck himself to do anything about it. Harry stood in front of him wearing a pink shirt with white polka dots, buttons half undone (as always) and sunglasses atop his head, tangled in his curls.

They stared at each other without even moving a muscle when Theo and Lux started aggressively tugging Louis, breaking the moment.

"C'mon uncle Lou, let's goooooo."

"We're getting LATE!"

Within fifteen minutes, all of them were seated in Louis' car driving to the dog sitters house. The car speaker was playing 'Do you wanna build a snowman' on Theo's insistence and after dropping Clifford, they were driving off to the wonders that awaited them.

Harry waited with the kids as Louis went ahead to buy the tickets. Once they got the tickets, they stood with a group and a tour guide greeted them.

"Hello and welcome to the Warner Bros Studios- the making of Harry Potter. I'm gonna walk you through the sets and--"

Harry was distracted by Louis practically bobbing with excitement next to him. Soon the guide led them into the studio and they stood in a wide hall, at the centre of which a statue of the Gringott's dragon was suspended.

People around them were buzzing around and clicking pictures. Even Louis took out his phone and with great concentration took a picture if the dragon. From there, they were led to a set up of the inside of privet drive and the cupboard under the stairs.

"Oh my god, Theo look Harry's room," Lux pulled Theo out of the crowd to show him what she'd seen.

Next they went inside the great hall where and it was magnificent. Harry had seen the Harry Potter movies, but wasn't that deeply invested in them. But Louis. Let's just say Harry had come to visit the place with three kids and not two. Louis couldn't contain his excitement at all. He took in everything with eager eyes, took pictures randomly and every now and then Harry could hear him murmur "wish I was a wizard."

Slowly they walked through a lot more sets each as exciting as the last one. From the Gryffindor common room, boys dorm, Hagrid's hut, potions & herbology classroom, leaky cauldron, to the various shops of Diagon Alley, each captured the attention of the crowd and made everyone's jaw drop. They had a difficult time in the forbidden forest, where huge spiders kept appearing every now and then, scaring Theo and Lux, and Louis had to keep explaining that those weren't real.

There was a particular emotional moment when Louis was brought to tears by a stuffed werewolf because it reminded him of Remus Lupin. Both Lux and Theo, along with Harry had to console him afterwards. He had barely recovered when they were faced with a abstract statue of Sirius Black and Louis was sad again.

Soon it was time for lunch and they found some nice seats in the in-studio restaurant and ate to their fullest. Louis and Harry even tried butterbeer and Louis declared this should be available at all regular clubs too.

After lunch, they were led towards the Hogwarts Express and Harry took pictures of Lux, Theo and Louis one by one in front of the 9¾ platform. In another section, tourists could dress up in Hogwarts robes and sit on a broomstick and record videos and of course all three of them did.

All of them were amazed at the props section. Each and every prop used in the movies was placed in glass boxes and they looked so realistic, it'd make one think that they were actually in the wizarding world.

Walking around the wizarding world set up they didn't even notice the time and soon it was almost evening.

The tour was almost over and their last stop was the merch shop. Upon entering the merch shop, nobody moved for a few seconds. They were taken aback by the variety of items that had been stacked up for sale. Louis bought Lux and Theo a wand each and they couldn't stop waving it around even for a second. He himself wanted to buy a Gryffindor quidditch costume, which earned a tease from Harry,

"Fancy seeing you go to work in these."

"Don't be silly Harry, it's for Halloween."

At the end he settled for a Gryffindor t-shirt and bought robes for the twins instead. Hufflepuff for Theo and Gryffindor for Lux.

Louis even made Harry take the Sorting Hat quiz right there, so he could buy him something. Hufflepuff.

"Yay, Harry you're with me," said Theo running to hug him.

Harry wouldn't buy a robe so Louis got him a t-shirt too.

They also bought a Hogwarts poster for the twins' bedroom at Louis' (because their mum wouldn't let them put up so many posters in the room in their own house and well Louis is the cool uncle so he'll obviously buy it for them).

On their way out they bought loads of chocolates and in his excitement, Louis didn't notice that Harry was lingering a little longer at the payment desk.

It was a wholesome day and it left them exhausted but happy.

After exiting the studio, Louis drove them to his favourite restaurant for dinner. The twins were staying with them tonight and had insisted Harry stay back too. Harry readily agreed and Louis was the happiest.

Theo had fallen asleep in Harry's lap and Lux in Louis' and the two of them slowly climbed the stairs to the apartment carrying the kids in their arms.

After reaching the apartment, Louis woke them up for a while to brush their teeth while Harry got them ready for bed. As Harry and Louis tucked them in their bed, they both said their goodnights in sleepy murmurs.

Harry was feeling tired too and went to the guest room (which had begun to look like his room) after wishing Louis goodnight.

As Harry settled in the bed, he took out his phone, deciding to post some pictures.

As he finished posting some pictures, he noticed that Louis had put up some stories on Instagram too. He was amused by the excitement which was radiating off of Louis' stories. He really was a kid at heart.

Harry was about to keep his phone down and go to sleep when he noticed that Louis had posted a picture. He quickly scrolled up and when he saw what Louis had posted, his breath hitched.

Harry will never know what possessed him at that moment that he jumped out of bed and pulled the blue wrapped packet from under the bed, deciding to go to Louis' room at once. He grabbed a clean t-shirt (which belonged to Louis) from the bedside drawer and at once made his way across to Louis' door. Clutching the packet tightly in one hand, he softly knocked.

Harry waited for about 2 seconds before the door was opened by Louis, still shirtless.

"What happened Harry? Did you need something?" Louis asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

"No, --um yeah, I mean- I wanted to give you something," Harry replied waving the packet slightly.

"Oh come in."

They made their way to the bed when Louis seemed to remember he wasn't wearing a shirt and quickly dived into the drawers for one. Harry's brows furrowed in frustration when he saw Louis putting on a black tank top and coming over to sit next to him.

"What did you get me?"

"See for yourself," Harry said handing the packet to Louis.

"You didn't have to," Louis continued, carefully opening the packet, "When did you even--"

Louis paused midway, opening the box in the packet, gaping at the content inside. "Harry, you-- I-- you- thanks wow, I mean- how did you-", he tried forming a coherent sentence while picking up the carved wooden wand from the box.

Harry chuckled quietly, "I saw how intently you were learning the wand choreography. It's only fair that you have one too."

Louis flung himself on Harry, knocking the breath out of his lungs, "thank you so much, I love this."

Harry hugged him back tightly, trying to steal as much warmth as he could before he had to let go.

Louis let go after a few seconds, face flushed and went back to examining the wand. Harry watched Louis' eyes sparkle as he held out his wand and tried out some moves. Louis couldn't stopped smiling and that made Harry's insides flutter.

After a while, Harry decided it best to leave, "So I'll leave you to your devices. Goodnight."

Harry got up to leave but was stopped by Louis tugging the hem of his t-shirt.

"You could stay if you want," Louis said, ducking his head down.

"Here?" Harry asked, unsure, not letting his hopes get the better of him.

"Here," Louis replied looking up, holding Harry's gaze.

"Um okay."

Harry sat back on the bed as Louis shifted around to remove his clothes from the bed. Harry moved back in the bed and leaned against the headboard. Louis joined him soon and for a few moments both were quiet, not knowing what to say. The silence wasn't uncomfortable though.

Louis had kept the windows open which let in the cool summer breeze and Harry felt at peace listening to the sound of crickets with Louis beside him.

Louis started first-

"I saw that you posted a picture of me from your main."

"Yes."

"Wouldn't that be a problem?"

"Why? I can hang out with my friends."

Friends

Harry quickly tried to correct himself after seeing the look on Louis' face, "Not that I consider you one-- I mean-- yes I do, but not in that way, you know-- I mean-"

"It's okay Harry. I know," Louis replied, relaxing once again and slowly sliding down the bed, lying flat on his back.

Harry watched him as the moonlight settled on the curves of his face, and watched as his eyelids fluttered slowly, the moonlight dancing in the shadows of his eyelashes.

Harry tangled his fingers with Louis' half afraid that Louis would remove his hand but Louis just tightened the grip.

"Thanks for today," Harry hummed so slowly, that Louis missed him.

"Hmm?"

"Thanks for today," Harry said, a little louder this time, "for everything actually."

Louis craned his neck upward to look at Harry's face and said, "Someone's being sappy today."

Harry smiled and slid down himself, propped himself on his left elbow, head resting on his hand and looked down at Louis. "Well you make me one."

"You make me one too."

If Harry could choose one moment to relive over and over again, it would probably be this, him lying beside Louis, their fingers intertwined and his face hovering inches above Louis'.

They gazed at each and even in the dim moonlight that had filtered in the room, they could see every inch of each others face clearly and suddenly without a warning Harry leaned in and kissed Louis.

Louis' brain short circuited and he froze for a second before giving in. Harry astounded by his own courage didn't waste time in climbing on top of Louis and taking his breath away.

Harry could feel the butterfly convention in his stomach going feral.

Louis let out a nervous laugh when they stopped to catch their breaths. Harry's curls were all over his face and Louis brought his hand up tuck the wild curls behind his ears.

"Harry are you sure?" he managed between ragged breaths.

"Yes," Harry replied, his voice strained.

"But-" Louis stopped, not knowing how to say it.

"Oh god," Harry groaned, "you're gonna make me say it aren't you? Yes Louis Tomlinson, I want this, if it wasn't clear enough. Just that-" he paused, "you're the first-"

"-bloke you're snogging?" Louis completed with an all knowing smile.

"I would have framed it better, but I guess that works too."

With that Harry closed the gap between them again, hands fiddling with the fabric of Louis' shirt which he managed to pull off in a few minutes.

"Shouldn't have put it on," Harry murmured in between their kisses.

Louis tangled his hands in Harry's hair and tugged at it in response.

"I love seeing you in my shirt," Louis said, rolling them over, settling on top of Harry, legs straddling Harry's hips, "but right now, I'd like for it to disappear."

Louis grabbed his wand from the bedside table and pointing it down at Harry, said "Evanesco!"

Harry watched in amusement as the boy above him, held a wand out and incanted a vanishing spell in the middle of a heated moment. Trust Louis to be dramatic. Louis' eyes glistened in the dim light and Harry obliged instantly. Louis leaned in on Harry and they got into their rhythm again, slowly discovering every inch of each other's skin, neither willing to let go.

--

When Harry woke next morning, he pleased to find himself on top of Louis' chest, listening to his heartbeat and feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of Louis' belly underneath his hand. He slowly got up, careful not to wake Louis up and got off the bed, planting a kiss on Louis' forehead and made for the bathroom. He quickly freshened up, and returned to the room, to find Louis sitting up, with his back facing the window, sunlight slipping in through the curtains and illuminating his back. Louis smiled sleepily and beckoned Harry to come over. Harry started making his way over to him but suddenly stopped in his tracks.

"Stay here, don't move, I'll be back."

He dashed out of Louis' room and into the guest room and returned a minute later with his phone.

"Can I take a picture?"

"What?" Louis laughed in disbelief. "You can't be serious, I'm in my boxers."

"That won't matter. You look beautiful."

A slow blush spread across Louis' face and Harry took that as a cue to move forward. He stood at the end of the bed on Louis' right side and with great concentration took a picture.

"Let me have a look" Louis asked.

"Nuh, uh. You'll see when it's time."

Louis pouted his lips in faux sadness which earned a kiss from Harry.

"Now freshen up, the twins will be up anytime soon."

Inside the shower, Louis couldn't stop thinking about last night. He could feel a stupid grin spread on his face everytime he thought about Harry.

God. He might be in love.

Louis emerged into the drawing room and an amazing smell of pancakes wafted into his nose.

"Hey how'd you know?" Louis asked, making his way over to the kitchen and climbing on top of the kitchen counter.

"Huh? --oh this? Lux told me. Pancakes. Household favourite."

"You're spoiling them."

"You're one to talk," Harry raised an eyebrow at Louis and had to force his thoughts from wanting to kiss Harry again to the delicious pancakes being cooked.

The twins absolutely adored Harry and wouldn't let him leave even after breakfast. Lot's of negotiations and promises later, they finally agreed to let Harry leave. Louis walked him to the door and as Harry was leaving, he reached out and held his hand.

"Um, you do realise that we've watched 21 out of 22 movies and it's just week 7?"

"So what? If you thought you'll get rid of me after a few calculated weeks, you're wrong mister. I think we established that already."

"Yeah, I was just checking if it stands," Louis replied sheepishly.

"After yesterday, you don't have to worry," Harry said, moving closer and pressing a chaste kiss on Louis' lips.

And he was off.

Louis would have stood in the doorway for a little longer if the sound of giggles behind him didn't break his train of thoughts.

Lux and Theo were peering around from the couch and had apparently witnessed the display of affection.

"Are you going to marry him uncle Lou?" Theo asked, his expressions a mix of glee and confusion.

"No Theo, put your mind to rest," Louis ruffled Theo's hair.

"Do you love him? Like mommy and daddy?"

Louis smiled at that, "I don't know Lux, maybe ask Harry, next time you see him."

Lux beamed at that and soon Louis was getting the twins ready to be picked up by their mum.

Louis' sister actually stayed for an hour and they talked about all sorts if stuff, catching up on things they'd missed in each other's lives. Louis thought for a moment of he should tell her about Harry but then decided against it. It was too soon.

No sooner had all of them left, when Louis got a notification of a new post from Harry's private instagram. He quickly opened it and what he saw took his breath away again. Harry seemed to be doing that quite often.

Harry Styles was going to be the death of him.

-----

Note : first of all I'm so sorry for the late update, my college schedule is all packed up ugh -_- Secondly I've never been to Warner Bros Studios myself, so excuse the narration!

PREVIOUS / NEXT

INTRO

[my-major-is-k-howard]

Screaming Color

Happy New Year, everyone!! I thought I’d start 2021 off right with my last Parrlyn soulmate AU one shot. Thank you all for getting me through 2020. I appreciate and love all of you and hope that this year is a WAY better year for you. You deserve it! And as always, I hope you enjoy this one shot!! 💙💚

Word Count: 4388

———————————————————————

Anne shifted impatiently on her bed as she watched Kat closely observe each color on her eye shadow palette, indecisive on which one she should apply to her restless subject.

“Kat, I don’t have all day,” Anne complained as she looked down to Kat’s palette. To Anne, they were just a mix of lighter greys and darker greys, a sign that she still had yet to find her soulmate.

Anne thought briefly about the moment she would meet her soulmate and her monochromatic world would slowly turn into one of color. She longed to experience the wonderful sight of color that Kat had tried describing to her. Despite her best efforts, Anne still struggled to imagine what color was actually like. Though, Kat’s overt excitement while explaining the different shades and sights made Anne bubble with anticipation at the thought of sharing that first colored glance with her soulmate.

“We’re going to brunch with Anna,” Kat muttered absentmindedly. “We could literally have all day, if we wanted.”

“But you always spend so much time picking colors!” Anne whined as Kat finally picked one of the lighter greys to apply.

“I want to make sure those green eyes of yours pop if you happen to meet your soulmate today,” Kat replied as she began working on Anne’s makeup.

Anne paused for a moment to think about what Kat had said. “What is green like?” Anne asked dreamily after a few moments. She had asked this question countless times before but she never got tired of Kat’s answer.

“Green is like a gentle stroll in the park, surrounded by nature. It’s peaceful and quiet, like the feeling you get when someone truly knows you,” Kat answered as she moved from Anne’s left eye to her right. “At least, that’s what I think of when I see green. It reminds me of you. Because your eyes are the prettiest shade of green I’ve ever seen.”

“You and Anna are so lucky,” Anne whispered. “You met each other in elementary school. And I’m stuck here wondering if I’ll ever meet my soulmate.” Anne sighed despondently at the thought.

“You will, Anne!” Kat exclaimed. “And they’ll be the most amazing person ever!”

“I hope so,” Anne responded, silently dreaming about her soulmate as Kat finished doing her makeup.

~~~

Cathy grunted quietly to herself as she heard the front door of her apartment swing open. The two voices chattering to each other cut through Cathy’s concentration, causing her to stop halfway through writing her sentence. She set down her pen with a huff as she threw her head back in frustration.

This had become Cathy’s new normal, much to her distaste. After her roommate Catalina had found her soulmate early last month, the two lovebirds had become practically inseparable. They had spent the majority of their time together, enjoying the new sights and sensations that came as new soulmates bonded. And, all the while, Cathy had never felt more alone in the world.

Of course, Cathy felt guilty about her emotions but she couldn’t help feeling irritated when she saw Catalina with Jane. Cathy was sure Jane was a lovely woman but it stung when she remembered that she had been completely replaced by her.

It used to be Cathy that Catalina would sit and watch movies with. It used to be Cathy that Catalina would tell all of her thoughts to. It used to be Cathy that Catalina would want to spend time with. Now, Cathy had been reduced to a passing shadow in the background of Catalina’s life.

Cathy shook her head to clear her mind of those depressing thoughts. She shouldn’t be blaming Catalina for how lonely she felt. Deep down, Cathy knew she was just longing to have a connection with someone like Catalina had with Jane. She wanted to spend an endless amount of hours talking and laughing with someone that gave her butterflies. She wanted to experience color for the first time with her special someone and watch as her greyscale world slowly came to life. She wanted to find her soulmate.

The sound of giggles broke Cathy out of her thoughts, as she looked down at her journal with a sad expression. She wouldn’t be able to focus enough to write with all of the background noise coming from the living room. So instead, Cathy decided to leave the apartment altogether and head to her happy place: the library.

In a hurry, Cathy threw on her favorite hoodie before grabbing her phone and keys off her desk. She hoped that she would be able to get past the living room and out the front door without any awkward conversations.

Of course, luck was never on her side. A few paces before Cathy reached the door, Catalina noticed her. “Hey Cathy! Where are you going?”

“The library,” Cathy grunted as she reluctantly turned to face the couple that was cuddled up on the couch. Cathy did her best to refrain from wincing visibly at the sight.

“Hey!” Jane’s sickenly sweet tone made Cathy narrow her eyes skeptically. “I like your jacket!”

“Yeah! It’s blue,” Catalina said excitedly, which only added insult to injury. It was bad enough that Catalina had seemingly forgotten about Cathy in the past month but jabbing at her inability to see colors yet was a step too far.

“You know I can’t see color, Catalina!” Cathy finally snapped. “But thanks for rubbing it in my face that you can!”

“Cathy, I didn’t mean it like-” Catalina’s frantic response was cut off by Cathy slamming the door on her way out of the apartment. As she walked down the stairs, Cathy was overcome by guilt for acting out of anger and lashing out at Catalina. She almost turned back to apologize but decided against it, knowing it would be best for each of them to have their own space for a while before talking it out.

With that reasoning in mind, Cathy exited the building and rushed off to the library, hoping to find some solace among the endless shelves of books. Even if her sight was in black-and-white, she could always paint a vibrant picture in her head of the stories held within the bindings of a good book.

~~~

Anne turned off her motorcycle as she pulled into one of the spots in front of their favorite restaurant. She looked around the outdoor seating to see if Anna had arrived before them. Much to her surprise, she found Kat’s soulmate sitting at one of the tables with a menu in her hands.

“She’s actually on time for once,” Anne mused as she took off her helmet and slid off her motorcycle.

“I told her that she would make me sad if she turned our brunch into a lunch again,” Kat piped up from beside Anne as they approached the table.

“Did you give her your puppy dog eyes?” Anne asked and received a devilish smile in return.

“You bet I did!” Kat answered as Anne laughed and nudged her cousin’s shoulder affectionately.

“I taught you well,” Anne responded, winking at Kat with a smile on her face. “I’m so proud of your progress.”

Kat giggled before walking up behind Anna’s chair and covering her soulmate’s eyes with her hands. “Guess who it is!”

Anna paused for a moment, pretending to be deep in thought. “I think it might be my beautiful soulmate who also has extremely soft hands. Or her obnoxiously loud cousin.”

“Rude!” Anne scoffed jokingly at the last comment directed at her as she took a seat in the chair across from Anna.

“It’s me!” Kat exclaimed excitedly as she popped her head next to Anna’s. In turn, Anna smiled at her lovingly before pressing a quick kiss to her lips.

Anne watched the small exchange with a longing expression on her face. She couldn’t be more happy that her cousin had a perfect soulmate. It seemed like they were made for each other and Anne knew for a fact that nobody made Kat happier than Anna did.

Yet, seeing her interact with Anna made her heart drop slightly in her chest. Anne longed to share small moments like the one she had just witnessed with her own soulmate. She wanted to hug and kiss them, cuddle up on the couch and watch a movie together, and even invite them to brunch with Kat and Anna so that Anne would finally feel less alone. More than anything, she wanted to find her soulmate.

“Earth to Anne!” Anna’s exclamation snapped Anne suddenly out of her thoughts.

“Sorry! I got distracted,” Anne mumbled out as an apology.

“No worries! We were wondering if you were ready to order,” Kat chimed in.

Anne briefly looked down at the menu in front of her before nodding her head. She practically had the thing memorized after so many visits to this spot. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Not long after, the trio ordered their food and settled into casual conversation. They talked and laughed together until their waitress set down their plates and they began eating in silence.

After a few minutes of quiet, Kat piped up and said, “Anne, I can’t wait until you meet your soulmate!”

“What… what makes you say that?” Anne asked, caught off guard by Kat’s sudden confession.

“She wants you to start doing your own makeup,” Anna joked before Kat smacked her lightly on the arm. “Ow!”

“No, I love doing your makeup!” Kat exclaimed. “But brunch would be so much better if there were four of us.” Kat gestured to the empty chair in front of her, the perfect place for Anne’s soulmate to sit. Anne turned to look at the chair with a small smile on her face, imagining a near future where she could hold hands with her soulmate under the table as they ate brunch with Kat and Anna.

Anne was about to respond when something in the crowded sidewalk caught her eye. Her attention shifted completely away from her brunchmates as she turned to get a better look at what it was. She gawked as she saw the sight of a pretty woman rushing past their table, wearing something… colorful.

Anne suddenly pushed back her chair and stood up, turning around as she watched her soulmate run further down the street. “T-that was…” Anne stuttered as she turned back to Kat and Anna, who each had wide grins on their faces. “... color.”

“Go get ‘em!” Kat cheered and motioned for Anne to leave. Anne smiled back at her before quickly taking off in the direction her soulmate had gone.

After a moment of stunned silence, Anna spoke up. “I think you just summoned her soulmate, Kat.”

“Yes. I did,” Kat replied and lifted her head in pride. “I take full credit.”

“Do you think Anne is going to finish that?” Anna asked and gestured to her half-eaten plate of food.

“Probably not,” Kat answered and watched as Anna scooped the leftover food onto her own plate. She looked back up in the direction her cousin had gone in pursuit of her soulmate before continuing. “I doubt she'll be back any time soon.”

~~~

Cathy pushed open the library door with a huff before a sudden calm washed over her. The library atmosphere instantly soothed Cathy’s temperament as it brought back the many good memories she had made while reading her favorite classics.

Before Cathy could think about where she was going, her feet led her to the shelves holding the literary classics out of habit. As she browsed the different titles in search of a new one to read, Cathy felt her phone buzz in her pocket. She pulled it out and sighed when she saw several messages from Catalina asking where she was and apologizing profusely for her earlier behavior.

Cathy quickly grabbed a random book from the shelf before walking over to the seating area and picking a spot to sit away from the others who were reading. As she sat down, she slid the book on the table and began messaging Catalina, letting her know that she was at the library and also apologized for her sudden outburst. Cathy knew that they would still have to talk about why it had happened but for now it was nice to simply be forgiven.

After letting Catalina know she would be home in a few hours, Cathy slid her phone back in her pocket and turned to see which book she had grabbed from the shelf. A scowl passed over Cathy’s face as she let out a frustrated sigh. Sitting on the table was a hardback copy of “Romeo and Juliet,” one Cathy’s least favorite books.

The title seemed to mock Cathy, reminding her of the soulmate she still had yet to find. The first time Cathy read the book, she had been enamored by the love that Romeo and Juliet had for each other until she realized how disastrous their choices turned out to be for themselves and their families. Their love had been selfish and brash, a complete opposite of what Cathy hoped for herself and her future soulmate.

With those thoughts swirling in her head, Cathy slid the book away from her and resolved to find a new one when a voice spoke up beside her. “I’m not much of a fan of ‘Romeo and Juliet’ either.”

“Finally someone agrees! I think it’s a terrible portrayal of love for teens to read, especially when considering how much society has evolved since Shakespeare’s time and-” Cathy’s flow of words suddenly stopped as she turned to look at the person standing beside her chair. Her breath caught in her throat and for the first time in her life, Cathy was truly at a loss for words. Because nothing could describe the sight of the stranger’s eyes, glistening in a new shade that Cathy had never seen before.

She was utterly speechless as she stared in shock, suddenly realizing that the beautiful woman she was staring up at was her long-awaited soulmate. The girl shuffled nervously before flashing Cathy a quick smile. “I- um- can I sit with you?” Cathy’s soulmate stuttered as she gestured to the empty chair across from her own.

“Yeah, absolutely!” Cathy exclaimed eagerly as she broke out of her daze. She watched as the woman took a seat and looked back at her with curious eyes, causing her eyes to sparkle even more brightly than before. Cathy looked down shyly, almost unable to bear the intensity of the color in them.

“I’m Anne Boleyn. And I guess we’re soulmates,” Anne said with a nervous chuckle.

Cathy gave Anne a warm smile before introducing herself. “My name’s Catherine Parr. But most people just call me Cathy.”

“I like your jacket, Cathy,” Anne complimented. “Do you happen to know what color it is? Because it’s the first color I can see.”

In that instant, Cathy was incredibly grateful for Catalina and vowed to not only apologize profusely to her when she got home but also treat her to a nice dinner to show her gratitude for telling her the color of her jacket before she left. “My friend said it was blue,” Cathy replied as she looked down at her sleeve. The faintest hues were starting to seep into the fabric, though they were still too faint to differentiate from the grey the jacket was before.

“Blue,” Anne whispered to herself. “I like blue.”

“Anne, your eyes…” Cathy couldn’t even finish her sentence as she became enraptured once again by the beautiful colors in Anne’s irises.

“Oh, yeah! My cousin says they’re green,” Anne mentioned, proud of herself that she remembered the color.

“Green is beautiful,” Cathy said and admired the way Anne’s eyes lit up at the compliment.

“You’re beautiful,” Anne blurted out before ducking her head in embarrassment. Cathy blushed at the sudden praise and reached across the table to take Anne’s hand in her own.

“That’s really sweet, Anne,” Cathy nearly whispered as she gave Anne a soft smile. Anne returned Cathy’s smile with one of her own.

In that moment, Cathy felt the pang of loneliness she had carried around with her for so long finally dissipate into thin air. In its place, a small bud of love had sprouted for the woman sitting front of her, the same woman that also happened to be her soulmate. An elated feeling spread in Cathy’s chest at that thought. She couldn’t wait to get to know Anne better. She couldn’t wait to bond with her soulmate and live a life full of color with her. And she certainly couldn’t wait to fall in love with the green-eyed goddess sitting in front of her.

~~~

The two queens stayed in the library and talked with each other for quite a long time until eventually the librarian got tired of asking them to stay quiet and politely asked them to leave. Anne and Cathy apologized for being disruptive before leaving the library as they quietly giggled to themselves.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever been kicked out of a library,” Cathy commented as they walked hand-in-hand down the street.

“Oh, I’ve probably been blacklisted from every library in town for being too loud at this point,” Anne joked and nudged Cathy’s shoulder lightly. “Where are we off to next?”

“There’s a park not too far from here,” Cathy said with a question in her eyes. “I’d like to see it in color, if you’re okay with that.”

“I’m more than okay with that, Cathy,” Anne responded and squeezed Cathy’s hand in reassurance. “I love spending time with you.”

Cathy looked up to Anne with a shy smile on her face. “I love spending time with you too. I know we haven’t known each other for that long but you’re my new favorite person.” Cathy bit her lip nervously at the confession, watching Anne’s response to see if she had gone too far.

Anne visibly lit up at Cathy���s words. “You’re my new favorite person too!” Anne exclaimed excitedly before taking a moment to pretend like she was pondering thoughtfully to herself. “It’s almost like we’re soulmates or something,” Anne joked, eliciting a small laugh from Cathy.

“Maybe it’s because we are soulmates,” Cathy said with a smile on her face. Anne took that opportunity to look at Cathy for a moment and admire how beautiful Cathy really was. A lively color had seeped into her skin in the past couple of hours, contrasting from the dull grey it was before, giving her an almost angelic glow in Anne’s eyes. Her smile literally lit up Anne’s world, making the colors that had appeared in her surroundings over time a little brighter than before. Cathy’s gentle touch made Anne crave every part of her, filling Anne’s mind with daydreams of them cuddling and kissing one another as Cathy led her to the nearby park.

Anne was broken out of her thoughts by Cathy gasping next to her. She looked around for a moment before having a similar reaction to Cathy. Anne stared in amazement at the beautiful park in front of her, practically glowing with a newfound life that Anne had never experienced before.

Anne tore her gaze away from the sight of the park to steal a quick glance at Cathy. She smiled subconsciously as she watched Cathy look around, taking in every new color and committing it to memory. After a brief moment, Cathy turned to look at Anne and they shared a smile.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!” Anne exclaimed excitedly and pulled Cathy towards the entrance of the park. Cathy eagerly followed her, sharing in Anne’s excitement to experience their first walk in the park together in color.

The new soulmates spent most of their early afternoon roaming along the park’s walkways, admiring their surroundings as the colors around them became more vibrant and lively. They chatted as they walked, getting to know each other better as they exchanged interests and a few laughs as well.

Anne felt so at peace in the world, relishing in the park’s atmosphere and bright colors as she brushed shoulders gently with Cathy. There was no feeling like it. For the first time in her life, Anne felt truly whole. Of course, her upgraded eyesight was amazing but the real reason for her happiness was the beautiful girl beside her, the girl she was quickly falling in love with.

“Everything is so much more beautiful now,” Cathy breathed out as she scanned the park briefly, her eyes landing on Anne. “And it’s even better than everything in the park is also green.”

Anne tilted her head in confusion as she looked around at the trees and grass, noticing that their hue was the predominant color in the park. She looked back to Cathy. “You mean my eyes are the same color as the trees?” Anne asked, almost in disbelief.

Cathy nodded. “Though, your eyes are brighter than the leaves.”

“Wow.” Anne was at a loss for words. Kat’s description of the color green came back to Anne’s mind and she suddenly understood what Kat had been trying to explain. Colors enhanced moments that would otherwise seem ordinary, making them all the more exciting and memorable. They helped make connections between memories and surroundings, similar to how Anne’s favorite color had quickly become blue because it reminded her of Cathy.

Cathy led Anne to a bench and they sat down next to each other. Cathy turned to Anne and brushed the hair that was covering her cheek behind her ear. Anne blushed at the gesture as Cathy brought her hand to rest on Anne's cheek. She leaned into the touch as Cathy softly stroked her cheek.

Slowly, the two of them leaned in for a kiss and Anne felt a million butterflies erupt in her stomach. When their lips touched, Anne felt her heart flutter in her chest and she was certain that she could spend the rest of her life kissing Cathy.

They parted after a few moments and Anne felt a small smile play on her lips as she watched Cathy look around in awe at the park that had suddenly become much more vibrant and alive than before.

“Do you think that happens every time?” Cathy asked as she looked back to Anne with an excited smile on her face.

“I think there’s only one way to find out,” Anne said with a smirk. Cathy raised an eyebrow before licking her lips and pulling Anne in for more kisses. Though Cathy didn’t look back at her surroundings after that, instead keeping her eyes closed and enjoying the sensation of Anne’s lips on her own.

Anne quickly lost track of time, too caught up in losing herself in Cathy’s arms and in their later conversation.

“Hey! I’m curious, Anne,” Cathy began after her giggles had ceased from Anne’s stories about her disastrous experiences while attempting to cook. “How did you find me? At the library, I mean.”

“Oh! I didn’t actually,” Anne replied. “I saw you run past the restaurant where I was eating and tried to catch up to you. But, you’re really fast! I saw you walk into the library and then it was only a matter of time until I found you.”

Cathy’s eyes flashed guiltily as she remembered why she had been speeding to the library. “Oh. Yeah, I was upset after a fight I had with my roommate. Going to the library helps me calm down.”

“Is everything okay between you too?” Anne asked as she rubbed Cathy’s shoulder, sensing her distress at the memory.

“Not… exactly,” Cathy managed to reply. “She found her soulmate recently as well and I felt like she replaced me in a way. I got angry with her and snapped at her before I left. We apologized to each other but I know we still have to talk it out when I get back.”

“I know how you feel. When my cousin and I moved in together, I felt like she was spending more time with her soulmate than with me,” Anne empathized. “I talked with her about how I was feeling and she made sure to include me more and have one-on-one time together after that. I know it’s pretty cliché but communication really is key.”

Cathy pondered over what Anne had said before a look of determination passed over her features. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll go talk to her.” Cathy paused momentarily and looked back to see Anne’s proud smile. “Thank you, Anne.”

“No problem, Cathy,” Anne said, before a look of complete terror passed over her face. “I totally forgot I left my motorcycle at brunch!” Anne exclaimed as she dropped her head in her hands in embarrassment.

Cathy giggled at Anne’s dramatic reaction before saying, “Hey, it’s okay. Let’s walk back to your brunch spot and then I can walk back to my apartment to talk with Catalina.”

“Yeah okay,” Anne breathed out as she stood up, followed by Cathy. “I could drive you to your apartment, if you’d like.”

Cathy smiled at Anne’s offer. “That would be nice.” The soulmates smiled at each other before making their way to the small restaurant where Anne had first seen Cathy. Much to her relief, her motorcycle was still parked out front where she had left it. Kat and Anna were gone but Kat had placed Anne’s helmet on the seat of her motorcycle. Anne picked it up and handed it to Cathy for her to put on.

Anne turned the motorcycle on and felt it roar to life under her. Cathy slid behind Anne and wrapped her arms around Anne’s torso, causing Anne to smile widely at the action.

As Anne navigated the streets following Cathy’s instruction, she was overcome by how suddenly her life had changed. In the morning, she had been dreaming of what it would be like to have a soulmate and now she had hers pressed softly against her back. In the morning, Anne was longing for someone to fill the void of loneliness in her heart and now Anne’s heart was overflowing with love for the beautiful woman behind her. In the morning, Anne’s world had been in black-and-white and now it was in screaming color.

[marvelousstevetony]

Hi! If you’re taking prompts, can you maybe do insecure tony for stony? I was just thinking about tony always stifling sneezes because his normal sneeze is insanely cute but he doesn’t want Steve or the team to know? But then they find out when tony has a cold or something and can’t stifle at some point? Thank you for your writing also :)

This is... so old, anon, I’m so sorry. Life has been crazy busy these last few weeks. I combined this ask with another anon requesting “vulnerable” for stony (which I’m also very late to answer, sorry!)

I hope you both see this anyway and enjoy despite it being so late. 

(2.5k of sick Tony, cuddles, and everything in between)

----------

“h’ehh… uhNGxxt! ehhh’mPTChh!”

Tony pinches his nose between his thumb and index finger, head bopping slightly forward with the force of the sneezes.

“Bless you, Tones.” Steve glances up from the debrief forms and watches the way Tony’s rubbing mercilessly at his twitching nostrils. His eyes are half-lidded, mouth hanging slightly agape as he waits for the sneeze to come, however, after a few seconds, it seems to escape, and Tony is left sniffling into his wrist.

“Sorry… thanks,” he replies, and Steve swears he can see Tony’s cheeks color immediately after Steve pulls out his handkerchief and offers it to him. Tony shakes his head, though, but his soft smile tells Steve that he’s grateful for the offer even though he declines.

Steve goes back to looking over the forms while sipping his coffee. They’ve been at it for a while, and Steve’s tired, so he downs the caffeinated drink mindlessly despite its ineffectiveness. Tony says it’s a mental thing as much as it is physiologically,  and it seems to have become a habitual thing for him since they started dating. Even though Steve doesn’t particularly like the taste, he finds that he’ll always drink the coffee as long as Tony’s there.

He narrows he eyes, concentrating on reading the words, but his head’s suddenly swimming, and he lets his eyes slip shut for a few moments until his hearing picks up a choked noise, and he looks up to see Tony stifling another bout of near-silent sneezes into the shoulder of his white button-up.

Tony looks adorable like this, Steve thinks, nose all scrunched up and eyebrows drawn together into a confused frown. He also looks tired, Steve notices, as tired as Steve feels. He throws a quick glances over the papers that are scattered all over the table, then up at his boyfriends who’s now scrubbing at his nose with a bent index finger, and catches his lower lips between his teeth as he decides that they’re done for the day.

“Hey,” Steve says as he gets up and goes to stand behind Tony, leaning down to rest his chin on Tony’s shoulder.

“Hey,” Tony echoes and turns on the chair, now facing Steve with a warm, yet sleepy, smile, which is immediately returned.

“You think it’s time to finish up here, yeah?” Steve ask softly, caressing Tony’s cheek as he says it. They feel a little warm, and now that Steve gets a closer look, he can tell that there’s a slight flush to them, and to his nose as well. It could be because he’s just tired, that happens to Steve sometimes, but Steve’s 99 percent sure that Tony probably needs rest because he’s both spent, overworked and, from the looks (and sounds) of it, coming down with a cold.

Tony leans in to the gentle touch for a second, then closes his eyes and nods. “I can’t even tell you how long snf! I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.” It almost comes out as a sigh, breathy and relieved, and Steve could feel the way Tony’s jaw unclenched in his hand.  

“So… dinner in bed?” Steve carefully slips off Tony’s glasses and places them on the table, then strokes a thumb under Tony’s eye, tracing along the indistinct line the glasses had imprinted onto his skin. “I think an early night would do us good,” Steve adds and leans in his brush his nose against Tony’s.

Tony pulls away slightly, even the softest touch making him sniffle madly. He draws in a few quavering breaths and leans away from Steve before crushing a small fit of sneezes into his fist.

“Hdt’mpshh! hH’NGSXT! N’GKt! snffSNFF! Sorry,” Tony rasps as the fit subsides.

“God bless you, sweetheart,” Steve says, voice drowning in sympathy. “Dinner in bed?” he asks again.

“We don’t have to, snff! We can do dinner at the table,” Tony assures, frowning.

Steve smiles warmly. “I know… It was mostly because I feel like I could fall asleep right here on the floor,” he chuckles. “But I do believe it’d be good for both of us.”

“Yeah, I- I guess so,” Tony exhales. “I really can’t be bothered to cook dinner, though.”

“I’ll do dinner,” Steve offers. “You can take a shower and get into bed.”

Tony pouts at that. “The can’t be bothered to cook dinner was mostly because it would mean we’d have less time to cuddle. You doing dinner doesn’t change that, Steve, I’ll still need my favorite pillow.”

Steve shakes his head and laughs fondly. “Thirty minutes tops. I promise.”

Tony narrows his eyes at Steve, then smirks. “Twenty.”

———

Steve arrives with dinner exactly 21 minutes and 15 seconds later.

“You’re late,” Tony states, looking at his wrist as if he was wearing a watch.

“Oh, shush, you,” Steve says as he settles the tray on the bed. “You’re not even wearing a watch.”

“JARVIS keeps track of the time,” Tony clarifies. “Although, I think you’re forgiven. This looks amazing, Steve.” Tony reaches out to grab the plate and puts it in his lap.

“Anyone can cook pasta, Tony. Even Clint,” Steve shrugs.

“But your pasta is actually good,” Tony says. “And I’m Italian, I’m a tough critic to please,” he adds as he swallows a mouthful of creamy spaghetti.

Steve, as always, brushes off the compliment and ducks his head with a shy smile. He joins Tony under the comforter, scooting closer to his boyfriend until he’s near enough to rest his chin on top of Tony’s head. He doesn’t even remember letting his eyes slip shut, but they do, slowly. He’s right on the verge of nodding off, but suddenly he feels something being removed from under his chin, and his head falls forward, waking him with a start. It’s Tony’s head that’s missing, Steve realizes.

Beside him, Tony’s body jerks slightly forward as he pinches his nose with two fingers. His eyes are squeezed shut, shoulders hunched, as he draws in a short breath and stifles another near-silent sneeze.

“ng’tCHh!”

“Bless you,” Steve croaks, his voice already rusty from almost sleeping. He grabs a few tissues from the nightstand and places them in Tony’s hand.

Tony accepts the Kleenex and brings it right up to his nose. “uhhGxxt’ch! ehhk’NGxt!”

“Let yourself sneeze, babe. Sounds like it hurts…” Steve mumbles as he settles back in close to Tony. He doesn’t even hear Tony’s response, because his eyelids are just so heavy, and the comforter is warm, and within a few seconds, Steve is out like a light.

————

When Steve wakes up, his face is smushed into the pillow. He sighs deeply into it before propping himself up on his elbows and scrubs at his face with both palms to clear away the sleepy haze. His naked back is half covered by the linen sheet, half uncovered, fair skin glowing from the sleep-warm heat. He must’ve taken his t-shirt off at some point during the night, which seems unusual. He’s normally always cold in the night and has to cuddle in close to Tony to get warm.

Steve looks to his right and watches Tony’s relaxed facial expression. He looks so peaceful and innocent that Steve can’t help the flush creeping up his cheeks or the soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Adoration and affection surge through him as he takes in the view of his boyfriend.

Tony is lying on his side, face turned towards Steve. His lips are barely parted, just enough to breathe in through his mouth. They look so soft, though, Steve thinks, irresistible, really, and Steve… Well, Steve feels it would be a crime not to kiss them when they are that pink and plump and perfect.

He leans down and catches Tony’s bottom lip between both of his. The kiss is gentle and sweet and the dazed feeling lingers even after he’s pulled away. It tingles in every inch of Steve body; the urge to run his fingers over Tony’s cheek, to brush a hand through the soft curls, and, somehow, Steve knows that this is what he wants every morning. He wants their sleep-warm bodies pressed close to each other. He wants the first thing he sees when he wakes up to be Tony’s messy hair and half-open mouth. He wants the domesticity and the pure bliss of waking up with he person he loves more than anything else.

The thoughts make tears prickle behind Steve’s eyes, and he probably would’ve teared up if Tony didn’t begin stirring just then.

Tony blinks his eyes open, and he smirks when he sees Steve gazing at him with such fond and kind eyes. “Mornin’,” he croaks.

“Hey.” Steve smiles and brings his hand up to stroke Tony’s arm through the soft t-shirt he slept in. “Sleep well?”

“I think so… or, I don’t know,” Tony amends. “I’m still so tired.” He closes his eyes and nuzzles closer to Steve, who now realizes why he’d overheated while they slept.

“You feel warm,” Steve murmurs. “Are you alright?”

Tony huffs. “‘M fine, Steve,” he mutters, voice muffled by the pillow. “Jus’ tired.”

Steve frowns and cups Tony’s cheek in his palm. “I think you’re running a slight temperature, sweetheart. ’S not too bad, but still…”

“I get hot when I sleep, tha-ahh-that’s w-why,” Tony tries, but it sounds unconvincing, even to him. It probably would have more believable if his breath hadn’t come in short gasps, and his nose hadn’t quivered violently as he said it.

Steve watches as Tony twists his head to face away from Steve. He doesn’t see the way Tony’s face undoubtedly crumbles with the sneezes, but the way his shoulders tense with the withheld sneezes is enough to make Steve’s heart ache in sympathy.

“ehh-NgHTsshx! Hng-tsxx! HNgx! SnfSNFF!” Tony sniffles a few times, then groans. When he turns his head to face Steve again, his eyes are squeezed shut and presses a hand to his temple. “Sorry, excuse me.”

“God bless,” Steve murmurs and removes Tony’s hand from his forehead and places his own there instead. He begins gently massaging Tony’s scalp, fingers rubbing along his hairline, and he carefully runs his thumb over one eyebrow.

Tony’s face is still pinched, nose wrinkling, and a few second later, he stifles a small Hngxsh! into the pillow. An almost inaudible whimper escapes through his lips, one that Steve probably wouldn’t have heard it if he didn’t have super-senses.

“Bless you,” Steve sympathizes. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what?” Tony asks, confused.

“Hold them back like that. It’s not good for you, it looks painful,” Steve winces at the mere thought of the stabbing pain stifling sneezes does to him, and he can’t imagine it hurts any less to Tony.

“Yeah, it’s… not great,” Tony agrees. “But I can’t help it, it’s a habit.” He shrugs and leaves it at that.

They’re quiet for a minute while Steve nestles closer to Tony and drapes an arm over his waist. They lay there, in silence, looking into each other’s eyes— until Tony draws in a breath and crushes his face into his shoulder.

“H’tsnghh! Sh-ihht ihhngxt! Ugh.”

“Tony,” Steve says disapprovingly, glaring at him.

“I’m not doing it on purpose, Steve,” Tony grumbles. “That’s just how I sneeze, I’ve done it since I was twenty. Twenty, Steve. You know how many years ago that is??”

Steve chuckles fondly at Tony’s self-deprecating joke. “And I thought I was the old one in this relationship,” he retorts with a quirk of an eyebrow.

“You are, but it’s still a long time… You know how hard it is to break a habit like that? It’s impossible,” Tony answers his own question.

Steve shakes his head and laughs again. “You’re ridiculous—“

“You love me.”

“and— I do love you, yes, but you really should stop trying to hold your sneezes back like that. It’ll give you a headache, and from the looks of it, it already has.”

Tony opens his mouth to protest, but nothing comes out. Instead, Tony sighs and deflates, which tells Steve that his suspicion was right. “Okay, yeah, a little maybe,” Tony admits with a small smile to show Steve that he is okay, even if his head is pounding and his nose is twitching, and he has to keep sniffling and rubbing at his poor nose to impede the horrible itch.

“I’m sorry you’re feeling bad,” Steve says sweetly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this sniffly,” he adds.

“You wouldn’t have… I don’t get sick. Or, I don’t get sick very often,” he rephrases when Steve gives him a look that says Really? “I normally just stay in the workshop, but this… this is not the normal I’m used to when I have a cold.”

Tony looks around the room, at Steve, who’s definitely the anomaly in this case.

Steve smiles warmly. “Well, it is now.” He leans in to graze a kiss over Tony’s lips and nudges his nose against Tony’s. The feather-light touch seems to cause the remaining itch in Tony’s nose to bloom, though, because Tony quickly pushes Steve away. He barely has time to bring his arm to his face, so he aims the sneezes down towards the blankets.

“tshu! tshh! eh’tsh! huh-tshoo!”

The sneezy sensation overcomes him so quickly he doesn’t even have time to think about stifling them. They’re small and soft and shivery, but Tony lets out a relieved sigh when he finishes. It feels so good to sneeze and not feel like he’s been smacked in the head by the Hulk afterwards.

The alleviation almost makes him dizzy, and it takes him a couple of seconds to pick up the sound of Steve... giggling?

“What are you laughing at?” Tony asks, brows drawn together.

“That- w-was,” Steve tries to speak, but he couldn’t get the words out in between cackles. “That’s the cutest sneeze I’ve ever heard,” he manages to say. The smile on his face stretches from ear to ear.

“Ha-ha.” Tony rolls his eyes. “Laughing at my weird sneeze is very funny, Steve.”

Tony pouts as Steve still couldn’t keep a straight face. “You know, this is why I started stifling them. Because of bullies like you.” Steve can tell he’s not actually mad, though, because Tony’s face starts breaking into a smile and soon he’s chuckling alongside Steve.

“That’s why?” Steve asks.

“I know my sneeze is weird—“ he begins, immediately going shy.

“No, it’s not weird, not at all. It’s adorable.”

“Adorable?” Tony asks incredulously.

“Mhmm,” Steve hums, “definitely the cutest sound I’ve ever heard.” The blonde leans in again, brushes his nose against Tony’s. It has the same effect the second time around, and Tony quickly snaps his head the other way to sneeze over his shoulder.

“tish! iitsh! huh-uh! tshu! hh’itsch! Oh…”

“So sensitive,” Steve murmurs fondly as Tony recovers from the fit of small, ticklish sneezes. “Bless you,” he adds and Tony just sniffles in reply. The tip of his nose is so pink, quivering ever so slightly, and Steve really can’t help but press the most tender kiss right on the center of it, grinning as Tony’s eyes begin to flutter shut again.

“Oh, fuhhck y-you, R-Rohhgers… ishhew! ishh! uhh-tshh!”

“Bless you, sweetheart,” Steve coos, one big, loving smile plastered all across his face.

[miracleonice87]

Say You Won’t Let Go

a Sidney Crosby wedding series

Part Four

a/n: it’s finally here -- the last installment! sorry for the long wait, though I don’t think a ton of you have been waiting on this just based on notes, as compared to my Tyler, Mat and Matty T pieces 😜but that’s okay -- I had a ton of fun writing this one and that’s truly all that matters to me. thanks to those who’ve read and enjoyed! ❤️read part one here, part two here, and part three here.

summary: Sidney and Juliette are married at last.

warnings: mention of deceased father. otherwise, so damn fluffy it’s practically cotton candy.

_____

After a full morning of primping and prissing, I was finally tucked away in a small bridal suite deep within the recesses of Heinz Chapel, my pulse racing knowing that I was only yards and a few closed doors away from the man who would soon become my husband.

“You ready to get dressed, Jules?” Lauren asked, rubbing my shoulder soothingly as I nodded.

“Now’s a good a time as any, huh?” I quipped. She grinned, moving to unzip the garment bag containing my gown, hanging on a curtain rod.

“It’s even more perfect than I remember,” I said softly.

“Well, that’s good, because it would be a little tricky to do anything about it now,” Stephanie chuckled, sipping her champagne. I reached for my own glass, rolling my eyes playfully. Lauren and Nathalie worked to pull the dress off the hanger carefully, and Nathalie held the back of the dress open, smiling at me.

“Come on, love,” she coaxed. I turned to Trina, already misty-eyed, sitting in front of a makeup mirror, and motioned for her to join me.

“Will you help me?” I asked. Trina’s eyes flooded even more as she whispered, “Of course.”

She squeezed my hand and came to stand in front of me, Nathalie standing behind, both women grasping the dress as I untied my robe and passed it off to Alexa. I was self-conscious for a brief moment of the white lingerie and garter I was clad in, intended specifically for Trina’s son’s eyes, but the moment was too meaningful for me to focus for too long on that, and Trina was concentrating on lifting the dress onto my shoulders anyway. She smiled at me as she tucked the delicate gown around me, holding it against me as Nathalie fastened it in the back.

After a few moments, Nathalie said in nearly a singsong, “Okay, take a look.” She and Trina dropped their hands, the two of them and my bridesmaids gasping, my relatives already swiping at tears.

I picked up the skirt at my knees and headed for the mirror, stopping in my tracks when my eyes met my reflection.

“This feels like a dream,” I breathed, turning in the mirror to see all angles. Nathalie stood at my side, holding the headband and veil.

“Well, it’s about to get even dreamier,” she said as I bent a bit at the knee to allow her to adorn my hair with the finishing touches.

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

“Just a minute,” Nathalie called. “It’s probably your uncle.” I nodded, Nathalie stepping back from me to examine her work. Lauren approached and the two of them decided that the look was complete, and I nodded in the mirror as I took one more look at myself. I kissed her and Trina’s cheeks before shuffling over to the door.

“Okay, who is it?” I asked through the heavy oak wood.

“It’s me, princesse,” Mario’s voice replied. I smiled, pulling the door open and hiding behind it until he entered the room and pushed it closed behind him, then looked to me.

“Wow,” he began, his voice cracking. “Oh, Juliette… you look stunning.” He took hold of my hands and leaned down to kiss my cheek, being careful not to smudge my makeup.

“Do you like it?” I asked softly, feeling like a little child playing dress up.

“Like it?” Mario shook his head. “It’s breathtaking. You look so beautiful. Just wait until your groom gets a look at you,” he added, smirking in his charming way. I beamed under his praise. “You look so handsome in your suit, like always,” I told him, smoothing the grey fabric around his boutonnière. He smiled, but his eyes signaled that he had come here for a different reason than for us to compliment each others’ attire.

“There’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” he told me after a noticeable pause, still holding one of my hands. “Would that be okay?” I nodded slowly, a bit anxious.

Mario and Nathalie exchanged a look, one I had seen many times, and I sighed. She suggested that the others in the room get dressed, too, in an enclosed part of the suite. Mario motioned for me to take a seat on the old-fashioned fainting couch, sitting down next to me as the other women left us alone.

“This is about my mom, isn’t it?” I asked point blank.

Mario’s eyes widened a bit and I could hear the surprise in his voice when he asked, “How did you know?”

I shrugged. “I saw the look you gave Auntie Nat,” I said. “It’s not the first time.”

Mario nodded, looking down a bit sullenly. “I guess I should’ve known that,” he sighed. “But listen, your mother just got here, a few minutes ago. She called me - she’s in the parking lot.”

My palms grew clammy and my mouth went dry at his words. He squeezed my knee reassuringly as he continued.

“She asked me if she could come up and see you,” Mario added. “I told her all I could do was ask, that the decision is fully yours. She asked me to tell you that she’d like to give you something ahead of the ceremony. Something she’d like you to have with you today.”

I drew a deep breath through my nose, focusing on the stained glass window across from me. As I toyed with the decision in my mind, sunshine suddenly flooded the room, casting colored light across me and my uncle, the beam seeming to come out of nowhere.

I closed my eyes and basked in the warmth — this wasn’t the first time light had shone on me suddenly. In fact, it had first happened the day we buried my dad, as the sun burst out from behind a cloud the moment I dropped a rose onto his casket. I still got the same comfort, the same reassurance, each time it happened as I did when I was a girl.

“Okay,” I whispered, eyes fluttering open. “You can send her up.” I felt a peace even as I uttered the words.

Mario studied me closely. “Are you sure, princesse?” he asked cautiously. I nodded, looking him in the eye. “I’m sure,” I promised. “That’s what my dad would want.”

Mario smiled sadly and leaned forward to kiss my forehead. “You have a beautiful heart, my Juliette,” he told me proudly. “I’ll go get her.” I nodded, and he left the suite with one last careful glance back at me.

Lauren opened the door from the other side of the suite, and the expression she wore told me she had heard the conversation.

“You okay, Jules?” she asked gently, coming to wrap me in a hug as I stood. I nodded.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I told her. “Honestly, it wasn’t completely unexpected. I’ve wondered if something like this might happen.” She offered a small smile.

“We’re gonna let the two of you have your moment, but if you need me, just say so. Promise?” Lauren requested. I squeezed her hand. “Promise,” I replied. “God, you look amazing! I can’t wait to see all of you together,” I told her abruptly, taking in how beautiful she looked in the dusty blue bridesmaid dress we had picked out together months ago. She scrunched her nose and gave me a bright grin.

“Thanks, sis,” she said. “I’m glad you think so. Okay, I’ll see you in a few, yeah?” I nodded, thanking her softly as she disappeared again behind the door.

A few minutes later, a knock came again at the door. I steeled myself, taking a deep breath, and opened the door to see my mother, dressed in a modest sage green dress, clutching her small purse so tightly that her knuckles were turning white.

“Hi, Mom,” I greeted quietly, motioning for her to enter the room. She did so hesitantly, but once I closed the door behind her, I opened my arms for a hug anyway. She began to cry as she embraced me, and I was surprised by how overwhelmingly calm I felt, not feeling teary myself.

“You look beautiful,” she whispered, gazing up and down the length of my gown. “Thank you,” I said softly.

After inviting her to have a seat, she got right down to business — standard fare for her.

“Now, I know we don’t have long, but I wanted to give you something,” she started. “I’ve held onto this since we lost your dad, and… and I know he would want you to have it. Not just for today, but to keep. I don’t know, maybe you already have something old and something blue, but… but if not, this could maybe be both for you today,” she said, voice quivering.

I’d been frozen since the mention of my dad, and remained so as my mother produced a small velvet box. She handed it to me, nodding toward me to open it myself.

Slowly, I lifted the lid and immediately recognized the memento inside.

“Daddy’s ring…” I began, finally dissolving into tears, reaching for a tissue on the end table beside me to salvage my makeup.

“You remember,” my mother pointed out. I looked at her and nodded. “Of course I remember. Sapphire — his birthstone,” I said.

She let out a hum in approval as I slid it onto my middle finger. “Yes. Your grandparents gave it to him on his eighteenth birthday,” she recalled. I knew that, too, but I decided not to say so, appreciative of her gesture.

“Thank you, Mom,” I breathed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She squeezed me tightly and kissed my cheek, the most affection she had displayed toward me for many years. I sniffled, dabbing at my eyes again as I pulled away from her.

“You’re welcome, Juliette,” she said. “I know we don’t have the kind of relationship that many mothers and daughters do, and I’m sorry about that, truly. But I want you to know that I love you deeply, and that your father is undoubtedly smiling on you, today and every day.”

I managed a small smile, choosing not to delve any further into the subjects she had broached. Instead, I settled for telling her, “I know he is. And I love you, too.”

That much was true, as difficult as she was.

She sighed, squeezing my wrist. “Well, I should be going,” she said, standing. I felt a stabbing in my soul at her rushed exit, but I didn’t allow myself to dwell upon it.

“Okay,” I said tightly. “Well, thank you — thanks for coming up here, and for the ring. It means a lot.” She leaned in to kiss my cheek once more.

“You’re welcome, Juliette,” she said. “Congratulations. I wish you and Sidney a lifetime of happiness. He seems like a wonderful man.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from spewing the first words that came to mind — if you took the time and made the effort to get to know your own son-in-law, you would know how wonderful he is.

Instead, I gave a single nod.

“Thanks again, Mom,” I said in farewell, walking her toward the door. With one last squeeze of my hand, she headed down the hallway.

I turned around to see Nathalie, Lauren, and Trina slowly emerge from the doorway across from me. I put my hands in front of me, placating them.

“I’m okay,” I promised firmly. The three of them nodded, each coming toward me with a hug and words of praise and encouragement. As the other girls joined us in the room, all now dressed, I extended my hand to show them the ring.

“I don’t know if you heard her, but… it was my dad’s. She’s held onto it all this time. It’s a little big, but… I still want to wear it,” I said, each of them taking turns to catch a glimpse of the piece.

Taylor let go of my hand and held one pointer finger in the air. 

“I have an idea,” she spoke, heading for the plastic tote filled with our peony and eucalyptus bouquets. Soon she retrieved a spool of white silk ribbon from the box and a pair of scissors from one of Lauren’s emergency wedding day kits. She held out her hand and I placed the ring in her palm. Carefully, she wrapped the ribbon over itself again and again around the back of the ring, using my finger to size it appropriately.

“I used to do this with my old prom jewelry,” Taylor told me, smirking. “Vero, can you hand me one of those tiny safety pins?”

Veronique dug in the kit and came up with the object she was hunting, Taylor fastening the pin to the silk and returning the ring to me. I pushed the ring past my knuckle, and it fit much more snugly.

“Thanks, Tay,” I said to my soon-to-be sister-in-law. “It’s perfect,” I added. I kissed her cheek as she smiled approvingly.

Nathalie approached, taking my hand in hers. She kissed the ring and whispered, “He’s always with you. You know that.” I nodded and we embraced, then heard a knock on the door.

“It’s time, my loves,“ Mario called from the other side. I could hear the smile in his voice when he added, “Sidney’s waiting.”

At his statement, my eyes widened, and reality quickly flooded my consciousness.

“Oh, my god!” I exclaimed. “I’m getting married!” The women around me laughed as Alexa let her father into the room.

“There’s still time to run,” Taylor added playfully. Mario nodded emphatically in agreement. “I’ll even drive the getaway car,” he promised.

I chuckled and shook my head. “Not in a million years,” I told them confidently.

With one last round of hugs and kisses, we all headed down the staircase to the narthex in the back of the church where the groomsmen stood waiting. The first person I locked eyes with from across the marble floor with was Nate, whose mouth dropped open upon seeing me.

“Wow,” he breathed. Mario chuckled from behind me. “Took the words right out of my mouth,” Mario quipped. Nate took long strides toward me and grabbed my hands, distancing himself to take in the full view before hugging me tightly.

“Look at you!” he exclaimed. “You look so incredible, Jules. Sidney is about to lose his mind.” Nate kissed my cheek and I squeezed his arm.

“I hope so,” I added. He rolled his eyes, amused by my questioning of his statement, and assured, “I know so.”

As I bit my lip and smiled appreciatively at Nate, our wedding planner entered the narthex silently from a side door, a grin across her features.

“We’re all set, Juliette,” she told me giddily. “Your groom is waiting for you.”

Our wedding party let out quiet cheers and muted claps as they paired off as rehearsed the night before. Meanwhile, I turned to Mario, who offered me his strong arm to grasp onto.

“Here we go, princesse,” he said gently. “This is your moment.” I nodded, feeling mostly calm despite the uptick in my pulse. As we walked to the side of the narthex, the doors swung open and I heard the processional musicians begin to play. With that, Jacqueline and Geno headed down the aisle, followed by the rest of our wedding party, two by two.

My hands began to shake as I watched Lauren and Nate step up to make their entrance, the last bridesmaid and groomsman pair. As if she could sense my nerves from yards away, Lauren looked my way and gave me a wink.

“This is it, babe,” she whispered quickly. “You got this.” I cast a thankful nod her way just as she and Nate entered the sanctuary, the wedding planner instructing our ushers to close the doors behind our flower girls and ring bearers once they entered the chapel.

Realizing the shift in the music and what the next moments signaled, I froze as Mario stepped forward, stopping short when he realized my feet were cemented to the ground. He ran his fingers gently over the edge of the veil covering my face and gave me a warm smile.

“Take a breath,” he whispered soothingly. I did as he instructed, and he sidled up to me again. Not for the first time this weekend, I was thankful that he could read me so well, just as my father had. “Are you okay?” Mario patted my hand as I slipped it around his upper arm. Before I could answer, I heard the priest ask our guests to rise from their seats, and the wedding planner signaled the ushers to swing the doors open once more.

When I caught the first glimpse of Sidney, his eyes widened and immediately filled with tears as I stepped over the threshold, both of us sniffling as we gazed longingly at each other, overwhelmed by this long-awaited moment.

Mario breathed a quiet laugh as he watched Sidney swipe at fallen tears. “Yeah, you’re okay. That’s it. Just look at Sidney,” he encouraged. “I’ve got you.”

I could have sworn that I floated the remaining distance down the aisle before Mario stopped us, standing between Sidney and me and giving us both tender looks as the priest began the ceremony with a prayer, during which Sidney and I stole blushing glances at each other like children.

When the prayer concluded, the priest turned to Mario and asked, “Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”

My hand automatically squeezed his bicep and he looked at me with adoration before answering the priest. “Her family and I do.”

Tears stung my eyelids as Mario turned to me, and I whispered my gratitude for his perfect response as he lifted my veil gently. Mario leaned in to kiss my cheek and whispered, “I love you, princesse.”

I squeezed his hands tightly and whispered, “I love you. Thank you.” With a wink, Mario turned to Sidney and placed my hands into his, wrapping an arm around Sidney’s shoulders as Sidney let go of one of my hands to return the embrace. While I couldn’t hear their exchange, I knew all I needed to know as I watched them nod at each other with damp, red eyes before Mario retreated to his seat in the front row.

As the priest instructed Sidney and I to face each other and join hands, we locked eyes for the first time at close range. Sidney’s face lit up as he whispered, “Hi, love.” I scrunched my nose at him and whispered, “Hi, handsome,” just as his thumb swept over the large sapphire ring on my middle finger.

“Where did this come from?” he asked quietly as he examined it for a beat.

“It was my dad’s,” I whispered back. Sidney picked his face up to look into mine carefully, understanding the gravity of the moment and the accessory itself.

“Perfect,” he whispered, squeezing the ring tightly before loosening his grip on my hands and taking a deep breath as the priest spoke up once more, giving a brief introduction before beginning the vow portion of the ceremony, as Sidney and I stared, smiling, at each other, in disbelief that this day, this time, had finally come.

The priest began. “Sidney, do you take this woman, whose hands you hold, choosing her alone to be your wedded wife? Do you promise to live in the state of true matrimony? Do you vow to love her, comfort her, through good times and bad, in sickness and in health, honor her at all times, and be faithful to her, until death do you part?”

Sidney nodded once and solemnly answered, “I do.”

The priest then posed the same to me, to which I responded, “I do,” with a broad smile at Sidney.

“Now, Sidney and Juliette will exchange the vows they have written to one another,” the priest announced.

Nate handed Sidney a small piece of paper and I felt my heartbeat quicken. I inhaled slowly through my nose and tried to relax, my entire body coursing with anticipation of what Sidney would say.

“My sweet Juliette...” Sidney began, voice unsteady. He opened his mouth to say more, but then pressed his lips together in a tight line as I watched tears well in his hazel eyes. My heart swelled.

I pulled a hand free from his hold and reached up just briefly to swipe my thumb across the apple of his cheek, catching one fallen tear. Sidney gave me an appreciative look, seeming to draw strength from the gesture, before turning my wrist to press a kiss to my palm and squeeze my hand in his, eliciting soft “aww”s from the crowd.

“Okay, geez, let’s try this again, eh?” he suggested lightly, our joined hands settling between us again. I heard the distinct chuckles of his parents and Mario and Nathalie from the front of the crowd, along with those of his groomsmen and my bridesmaids, before everyone fell quiet again. I nodded, encouraging him. Sidney drew a deep breath and continued.

“My sweet, beautiful Juliette,” he added, raising his eyebrows and looking me in the eye as he enunciated the added adjective. “I count it a privilege to spend all of my days with you. If I were to wake tomorrow and have lost all of my earthly possessions, recognitions, and livelihood, I would give thanks, as long as I still had you to call mine.”

It was my turn to cry now. As my groom spoke, Nate stepped forward from his place behind Sidney and produced a handkerchief from his inner jacket pocket, reaching to press it into my palm, sweetly squeezing my forearm for a beat before taking his position again.

Sidney cast a grateful glance Nate’s way as he paused his vows for a moment, and I dabbed my eyes and commented, “Merci. What a best man,” making Sid and our bridal party laugh softly.

Sidney cleared his throat and went on. “You have had to shield yourself from much pain and darkness throughout your life, more than you deserve, more than anyone deserves. You have always been careful to put up walls to protect your heart. Juliette... from this day forward, I will be your shield. I promise to protect you. I promise to do everything in my power to make my heart and my arms your home, and to make our physical home a place of shelter, solace, and unending love. From this day forward, you will not walk alone.”

As he spoke, I continued to dab furiously at the corners of my eyes with the hankie to avoid smearing my makeup all over my face. Sidney licked his lips and smoothed his thumb over the back of my hand as he finished his vow.

“Juliette, you are the person who brings me my greatest joys, and you are the person I want at my side in the midst of my deepest sorrows, which life is sure to throw our way as we embark on this journey as one. For all the days of my life, I will hold you as my greatest treasure, and when our prayers for a family of our own are someday soon realized, I will hold our children in the same regard. Thank you for entrusting me with your future and with our legacy. Thank you for choosing me to be your partner and the person with whom you raise a family. Thank you for giving your heart to me. I promise to keep it safe, always. This is my vow to you, Juliette.”

The remaining air had been forced from my lungs during Sidney’s final remarks as my shoulders shuddered a few times, sobs escaping me. We swapped duties as he ghosted his thumb underneath both my eyes. Taking a mental picture of the tender moment, I whispered, “Thank you. For everything.”

He nodded. “Don’t worry — your makeup is perfect. You’re breathtaking,” Sidney whispered back. I smiled at my sweet groom.

As the priest announced that it was my turn to deliver my vows, I inhaled deeply and retrieved my notes from Lauren, as Sidney steadied his feet firmly beneath him in subtle preparation.

“Sidney, mon cœur,” (my heart/sweetheart), I began. “You are a gift, of which I am so undeserving, but eternally grateful. You walked into my life when I was a young woman struggling to find her way. When I found you... I knew. I suddenly knew the way. I knew the path that I was destined to walk for the rest of my days. Nothing in my life had ever been easy, until you.”

I looked up to see Sidney’s face pinched in emotion as he attempted to hold back tears. I squeezed my fingers around his.

“You are so easy to love. You make each day better for me, simply because I can rest assured that you will be there when I wake up in the morning and when I lie my head on the pillow again at night. I know that you will be there to hold me, to strengthen me, to comfort me, to watch over me, to laugh with me, to care for me, and, sometimes, to cry with me. Mon amour (my love), you are the most remarkable person I have ever met. You have the entire world at your fingertips, and you have reached heights that many will never see. And yet, you take pride that I call you mine. You take pride in calling me yours. You look at me as though I hung the moon and stars. In my world, that’s what you did for me,” I told him, my voice starting to shake.

“You hung my moon, my stars. You have served as my sunshine, my lighthouse, my compass, and my refuge. Today, you take on the role of becoming my husband, and one day, you will take on the role of becoming a father to our children. Our children will know what true, unconditional, compassionate love looks like, because of the way that you love me, and because of the way that I know you will love them.”

After a long exhale left his lips, I saw Sidney reach his hand to nudge his nose as he sniffled gently, eyes damp and pooled with affection. I drew circles on his thumb with my own to soothe him.

“My sweetest love, thank you for choosing me to be yours, both now and forevermore. Je t'aimerai toute une vie,” (I will love you for a lifetime) I told him, my voice watery. “This is my vow to you, Sidney.”

With tears streaking his face, Sidney shook his head.

“Thank you, my love,” he whispered, lifting my hands to his lips to kiss my knuckles. After wiping the back of his hand across his face, Sidney joked to the priest, “Can I kiss her yet or what?” His impatience caused the crowd who heard his question to erupt in laughter, breaking up the weight of the moment. The priest laughed, too, and said, “We’re almost there.”

The priest then blessed the rings which Nate and Lauren presented to him and returned them to Sidney and me to exchange, instructing us to repeat after him to deliver what would be our last lines of the ceremony.

As I slid the ring onto Sidney’s finger, I said, “Sidney, with this ring, I thee wed, and with it pledge myself to thee.”

Sidney smirked giddily at the new addition and switched hands to place my wedding band on my finger, repeating the same promise.

At last, the priest pronounced us husband and wife.

“Sidney, you may now kiss your bride,” he said.

Sidney whispered, “Finally,” and grasped my hips tightly as he kissed me so deeply that I found myself leaning backwards in his hold, our guests cheering mightily.

In that passionate yet tender moment, the realization washed over me once more, standing enwrapped in Sidney’s hold, that he would make good on his promise never to let me go.