#I don’t think many of my moots even know what I’m talking about

[sheepie-self-ships]

Just got done w watching s.tarlight e.xpress if anyone would like to guess who I’m gonna f/o

[pellucid-constellations]

Fable - Before

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Being in love with Azriel wasn’t hard; you’d been doing it for over 400 years. But things were changing, and soon, you would be changed. 

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Angst, pining

a/n: This is part of a mini-series but each part can be read on its own/out of order. I know I'm like attacking everyone with this random fic I just started but it's getting my writing muse going and it's exciting!! Enjoy :)

Series Masterlist (all parts ♡)

~~

“Do you think that’s the best idea, Az?” you promoted, cringing a bit as you hid your face in the racks of clothing along the store’s edge. “I mean, Rhys seemed pretty adamant that you… I don’t know—not pursue her?”

Azriel tsked, pressing his hand to the middle of your back as he passed behind you. You turned your wings in. “Rhys doesn’t understand. He only understands the pull of the mating bond and nothing else. But Elain doesn’t want Lucien, I’m sure of it.” 

Something twisted in your gut. “Okay, I believe you. But what if—” 

“Please, y/n, something else now. My failure of a love life must bore you.” 

You bit into your lip as you contemplated ignoring his request. He had done nothing but speak of Elain since you started your outing this evening, but the moment you questioned the feasibility of his plans, the topic was suddenly moot. 

“I was just going to ask,” you broached, turning from the clothes to face the shadowsinger. A necklace display enthralled him. “What if you found your mate? What then?” 

Azriel broke his gaze with the jewels. “That wouldn’t matter. This is different, y/n. You must see that. Three sisters for three brothers. It’s as if it’s a test of fate.” 

“Right,” you nodded, fighting off the urge to throw up or scream. “Destiny, maybe.” 

Azriel’s responding grin did little to soothe you. “Exactly. I knew you would understand. You’ve always understood me.” 

You offered a weak smile, biting the inside of your cheek as he ushered you out of the store with a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

This was getting more and more difficult to tamp down. 

When Azriel first became enamored by Elain, you thought it temporary. He had been chasing after Mor for so long; that wouldn’t be trumped by a woman he just met. And you were used to the way he pined for Mor. It hurt, but it was familiar. 

Azriel never seemed to think he had a real chance with her. 

But with Elain—with Elain, he figured he had a fighting chance. He saw the success of his brothers and felt that this was his chance at happiness. He never looked at you the way he looked at her, and he had had so many opportunities to do so. 

He never spoke of you the way he spoke of her. 

This hurt more than it did with Mor.

But still, Azriel was your family, so you pretended that it didn’t. You sat back and listened as he spoke of his grand plans to court her and sneak past Rhysand. You tried your best to provide good input and smiled when you were supposed to. 

You loved him from afar. 

He loved you differently. 

It wasn’t his fault.

“Did Rhys ever say what he wanted to talk to you about?” Azriel asked after a short stint of silence, the sounds of your steps along the streets of Velaris rhythmic and soothing. 

You blinked and focused your attention back on Azriel. “Oh, um, some mission at the camps I think.” 

“Anything big?” 

“I don’t think so. A little unrest but I think he just wants me to make sure the women are training.” 

“Need me to come?” 

“I would, but I leave tomorrow night. Isn’t that when you—you know…” 

Azriel sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Oh, that’s right.” He tilted his head to the side, weighing his internal conflict. “I could try to move some things around. Elain could—” 

“No, Az, it’s fine,” you interrupted, trying to forget about the times he would restructure his entire schedule to accommodate you. “You have to be diligent with the times you see her. I can see if Cass can come with me.” 

“Are you sure?” he posed, the question twisting his brow. 

You looked up at him, examining each tell on his face. You’d known him so long you were sure you would never forget his face—never scrub your mind of the intricacies that told you of each emotion he felt. 

Many claimed that Azriel was hard to read. As a Spymaster, that was the goal. But you saw through it all. You’d seen him as a boy and you saw him now. 

There was something unfamiliar on his face as you looked at him now. 

“You really like her, don’t you?” The words hurt as they came out. 

Azriel breathed through a smile. 

“I like my chances this time.” He curled his finger beneath your chin in a playful tap. 

That sounded the same. 

~~

“You sure you don’t want me to come, sweetheart?” Cassian asked for the fourth time, the table between you filled with a plethora of distractions that you were all too grateful for. 

You darted your gaze to the side, eager to ensure that Azriel hadn’t heard the loudmouth in front of you. “Yes, Cass. Now quit it. I got it, okay?” 

Cassian sent the pair at the end of the table a perfunctory, almost irritated glance. “It’s a pretty hostile camp you’re headed into. I feel like you should bring backup.” 

“And I feel like you have four other camps to go to today. And a pregnant mate to tend to, no?” 

“Nesta would sooner bash me over the head with her books than let me coddle her. I’ve tried.”

“Well, just… linger around her, I don’t know. Just know that I’m fine and don’t need a babysitter.” 

From the other end of the table, Elain giggled, the sound light and airy. You snuck a glance out of the corner of your eye to find the shadows along the table retreating to the floor. A few had begun to creep towards you, but you shooed them away with a flick of your foot, wanting to keep the conversation away from Azriel’s ears. 

They listened to you—for the most part. 500 years of pestering them made them give a little. 

“Az can’t come?” Cassian asked, his mouth half filled with roasted potato. “He’s not on anything this week.” 

You raised your brow and stared back at the sheepish look the general offered, waiting for him to chew his breakfast before you replied. “He can’t. Spy business.” 

“Spy business.” Cassian deadpanned.

“Uh-huh.” 

Cassian’s skeptical look rivaled your chastising one. “This doesn’t need to go like this and you know that.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Right. I’ve only known you since we were twelve but I’m going to pretend that you aren’t covering for the one person you—” 

“Cassian.” 

“I don’t want to see you hurt.” 

“Why would she be getting hurt?” Azriel spoke up, his head finally turned from his near-permanent gaze on Elain. 

“I wouldn’t,” you cut in, speaking over the beginning of Cassian’s sentence. “You know how Cassian is, always worrying too much.”

“Is there something to worry about?” Elain asked, looking between the members of the table, her question sweet and ironic coming from her mouth. 

“No—” 

“Yes.” 

“No, there isn’t” you gritted out, throwing Cassian a look. The smile you sent to Elain took effort. “I’m just going on a routine mission, but you know how Illyrians are—overprotective to a fault.” 

Elain nodded and blushed with a soft gleam in her eye, and, Gods, you were reminded why you’d stopped eating breakfast at the House. You bit the inside of your cheek to fight the swell in your throat. 

“I thought Cassian was going to go with you,” Azriel questioned. “You said he could.” 

Cauldron, you really should have taken breakfast in your room. 

You tore your gaze from Elain’s shy expression and blinked at Azriel. He was sat up straighter, brows shot upwards in an accusatory fashion that made you feel that you were in trouble. When you took a moment to respond, he tilted his chin forward, ready to catch you in a lie. 

And you were an awful liar. 

When you were thirty, Azriel had to teach you how to lie to help stave away the men that came with emerging adulthood. That had been mortifying for many reasons, but mainly because he was having you lie about being his mate. Your feelings had become complicated around that time and Azriel did not seem to share the sentiment. 

But you could lie about this with ease. You had become a practiced liar over the years—when it came to hiding your feelings. 

“I-I got an update from Rhys. He said the camp is more settled. I’m only going to watch from afar. They won’t even know I’m there.” 

A lie—a fat lie. But Azriel should be happy. He should pursue Elain as he wanted. You shouldn't get in the way. You needed to get away from them, actually. 

You needed the space. 

You felt Cassian’s disappointed stare on the side of your face but ignored the hole it was burning into your skin. 

“He didn’t inform me of that,” Azriel muttered. He looked to Elain—sweet Elain with her soft eyes and gentle features—and contemplated his night once again. “I think I should come with you. Reports could be conflicting or fabricated.” 

And the way Elain deflated made you press your lips together in a line. Azriel sent her an apologetic, downturned smile and you gathered that he was apologizing for you. You would always be an apology for him, a responsibility. 

Your foot had been shaking under the table without you noticing it, but the moment Azriel’s eyes wandered to Elain, the motion abruptly stopped. You gathered your resolve, sent Cassian another warning glance, and looked back to the man who never saw you. 

“I don’t want you to come, Azriel. I’m bringing Lucien.” 

A low blow, but not one that was uncalled for. 

It had the effect you were hoping for, with both Azriel and Elain sending shocked expressions your way, the former affronted and the latter looking lost. 

“Lucien?” Azriel parroted. 

“Yes,”  you confirmed, taking a causal sip from the cup before you. “Rhys thought it would be good for him to see more than just Velaris and the mortal lands. I’m picking him up before I leave.” 

“And you think he would protect you if the Illyrians went rouge?” Azriel’s tone was bordering on aggressive, his question pointed towards Cassian. 

“The Illyrians are always rouge, Az. That’s kind of the point of all this,” you joked, but the joke didn’t land.

Tension at the table remained. Cassian wasn’t saying anything, his arms crossed and his eyes locked on yours. Your foot started shaking again. Elain, of all people, was the first one to speak. 

“Lucien would protect her,” she nodded, pushing her food around her plate. “He would. He’s… a good male.” 

That altered Azriel’s train of thought very evidently if one were able to pick apart the soft widening of his eyes and the slight twitch of his mouth. All things you caught so easily. 

All things that led him to agree that you should go with Lucien. All tells that made him refocus his attention on Elain and ignore the shallow breaths you let out when you lied.

Because you would be fine with Lucien. Maybe if you went with Lucien, one of Azriel’s suspected obstacles would be removed. Maybe Lucien would start to want you the same way he wanted Elain. 

Only, Lucien wasn’t going with you, and there would never be a time that a conversation like this would happen again. 

A different obstacle, for a different time. 

[withonly-sweetheart]

Fortune's Cookies

They aren't very sweet, especially when you're fooled into taking the first bite.

a/n: gosh there's literally so much rookie leon art going around and the fever got to me, hope you like my twist on this classic trope! honestly everyone listed below contributed to this with their rookie leon pieces, seriously i stared at them while writing it helps seriously.

@chesue00 - you KNOW it.

@faintfill - MY SOURCE OF ROOKIE LEON SKETCHES NO KIDDING

@uhlillie - i hope you know which one im talking about girl... DAMN

@bunnivievve - FOODDDDDDD just like i said rookie leon is served

(psst. if i didnt mention u in this one artist moots TRUST you're definitely in one of the other three.)

tw: cavity fluff i hope i needed to brush my teeth after writing this (probably because of all the panda express fortune cookies i ate while typing), angst bc duh and i think thats it?

wc: 7k

“Your voice will bring a smile today.”

That’s what greets you, printed in those horrible skinny red letters, paper curled in your fingers. The styrofoam boxes are dotted with grains of undercooked rice and steamed vegetables, a treat you knew you deserved after such a long day. 

And this is what fate tells you. Good thing you’ve never believed in superstition. You crumple the paper and toss it onto the tray and scoff.

Like you’ll take advice from a cookie.

But as the number of people in the store starts to dwindle, and the night shift employees trudge in through the back door, you wind up with your eyes glued to the message, wondering what kind of voice it referred to. 

It’s been a long time since your voice has brought anyone joy, hasn’t it? Your job mostly consists of reminding multiple colleagues of their deadlines, only to be promptly ignored. Your existence only comes back to their minds two minutes before their reports are due, when they forward a hastily written piece that you don’t bother to read.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” A hand waves dangerously close to your face, brushing your nose, and the contact is enough to startle you back, glaring up at the offender. Even with the harsh swinging lights stinging your eyes, you can see warm blue eyes and sunny hair. 

It feels as if the sky has descended to meet you.

Your breath catches in your throat.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you mutter back in response, clearing your throat, waving your tied words away. “All good here.”

He shifts away from you, maybe mistaking your inward gesture as shooing him away. You think of saying something about him, about assuring him, but you wonder why you feel that way. "Oh. I, uh, saw you seemed distracted. Just wanted to make sure you're okay." 

You wince, acutely aware of your frazzled appearance after the long shift. "Thank you, but I'm fine. Just tired is all."

“That’s not good,” he notes with a small frown, leaning back to press his heels to the ground. “Did you eat well?”

“Do you fuss over all strangers?” you muse.

“Oh, well, uhm, I see you a lot here, not that I’m watching you, just that I noticed that you’re here, a lot, so I thought you must like food-” 

“You talk a lot.” You raise an eyebrow, trying to cut off his flustered stammering with your motion.

“That came out a lot worse than I’d imagined in my head,” he admits with a slight dip of his shoulders. “Sorry about that, I got nervous. I don't talk to many people… or, uh, women... so I tend to be a bit of a dumbass.”

Surprisingly, as shitty as you feel, a small smile graces the corner of your mouth.

“You’re honest, aren’t you?” 

“According to a lot of people… yeah.”

“I don’t think I caught your name earlier,” you say, eyes scanning his vivid outfit for a nametag. There, pinned to his apron like a defining feature of his. “Leon?”

“That’s me,” he replies proudly. “And I already know yours!”

“Sorry?”

“Your… name?” Leon puckers his bottom lip, as if scarring it with his teeth will take back the words hanging between you. “Sorry… like I said, I’ve seen you here a lot.”

And he smiles shyly.

You’re flushed the whole way home, thinking of that sweet little smile, the way his eyes crinkled, his fresh linen scent, how you forgot how to breathe. 

And your carefully built world topples over.

<><><><>

You never expected to look forward to the little messages in your fortune cookies, but you blame it on the fact you know Leon’s handing them to you, standing behind the counter in that cute little outfit. Even if he has no idea what’s in them, you can gaslight yourself into thinking he deliberately picks the ones complimenting your smile, or telling you how pretty your eyes look.

Of course, he can tell you that all himself. You sit shoulder to shoulder with him on the stools that you think are meant to be mocking bar stools, but they have barely any space between them, so you’re crammed together.

You wait for him to move away, to tell you to put some distance between you two, but nothing comes. You watch his profile, that handsome face eat cheap noodles when he really deserves so much better.

The lights dim as the last employee clocks out. It’s gotten so late that the crickets demand entrance, chirping their redundant sound, silencing as you walk past the slouching grass like plant that tickles your bare ankles as you walk back to your respective cars.

“Well,” he says, twisting the fabric of his shirt between his fingers, like he hasn’t been talking to you for the last two weeks. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you affirm, nodding. The grin that eats up his face is so infectious you can’t help but smile back.

The same smile drops from your face when you check your Uber texts, a system you’ve repeated so much over the last few months that it feels like second nature, but not very natural when you see that your driver had to back out of the deal at the last minute, suspiciously also taking your money with them, leaving you broke and without a ride. 

You stare at the small blue rectangle gripped in your fingers, heat rising to your face, realizing how stupid you must seem to the guy who must be pulling away right at this moment, and will he ever want to hang out with you again-

“Something wrong?” You hear his voice before you hear the knocks on his car roof, and he’s so tall that even at this distance you have to crane your neck to glower at him, and a lopsided smile overtakes his face.

“This isn’t fair,” you insist after explaining your situation, and the only response he gives is a slight shake of his head, as if exasperated. “I already paid all the money!”

“Crap, then something’s wrong,” he mumbles. “Do you usually always use all your money on the trip here?”

You falter. “Not usually.”

He arches a golden brow, a gate to your forthcoming confession. “Then…?”

“Well, I come out here to see you,” you admit quietly. “And then I go home.”

“Exactly how far away do you live?” His voice is smooth, but his expression reminds you of those times when your mother caught you doing something you shouldn’t be, doing something that shows how much you need that validation to survive.

“Not that far,” you assure, nodding your head, but you fail to convince the both of you. 

“Do you want a ride home?” he asks quietly, softly, as if the night might intrude on your conversation.

“That would be nice,” you reply in a hushed whisper, as if further backing up the idea that the moon is listening, lighting up your words, shining on his hair as you both clamber into his car.

He apologizes for the mess in his spotless car, and you assume it’s just a courtesy, but he goes on and on about how he needs to get his life together. You don’t pay attention to the words that come out of his mouth, just his mouth in general. The amount of times you’ve done this slips from your mind, just another irrelevant number in your life.

If his life is a mess, your life must be a heap of shit.

Your address tumbles past strangely parched lips, well, at least it did, a while ago. But the ride was far too short, and he pulls up in your driveway, a bewildered expression on his face, as if he can’t believe this is where you live; a humble, simple abode, just like all your neighbors.

“So, this is goodbye, then?”

“Not forever, I hope,” he whispers, voice breathy.

“Uh, okay then? But let’s meet somewhere that isn’t your place of work?”

You were joking when you said it, but it seems he doesn’t pick up on it. His eyes are dreamy and thoughtful on his drive back, and by the time he gets home, he has a plan.

He’s going to stun you.

<><><><>

“Well?”

Leon’s gone out of his way to please you. Everything you’ve said during your time together, those vague comments about your favorite type of cheese, your opinions on the amazingly random topics you’re always switching between, it’s all right there.

You hope it's a physical display of his love.

His heart is spread bare, on the checkered, classic pattern of red and white, starkly contrasting with the blades of grass that bear your combined weight, not one, but two, so closely conjoined that you feel more at ease than you have in years.

You share a smile as you indulge in the simple yet delightful cucumber sandwiches, savoring each bite as you bask in each other's company. In the far distance, birds chirp, serenading you both, as if a soundtrack to these moments that seem to tick by faster than they should.

Leon's eyes meet yours, a softness in his gaze that speaks volumes. Time slows, encapsulating you both, a delicious freedom licking up your spine.

“Didn’t know you could cook,” you remark, wiping your face with a napkin, feeling content as you lean back, lying your head on your palms.

He mirrors your action, although his head twists to meet you, eyes sparkling. “I wouldn’t be working at a restaurant if I didn’t know a few things, right?”

“Guess so.” You shrug and the afternoon wears on, the park imaginative and alive with the children that race around the playground, darting like minnows through the swings and slides.

If you had met Leon in your childhood, would things have been different? Would you still be where you are today, arms brushing, only held apart by the barrier of remains scattered between you both, a battlefield of scarred napkins and damaged plastic utensils, a war fought to keep you separate.

He is caring and decisive and rational, the most reliable person you know, and you faintly register it’s been half a year, and you haven’t progressed any further with each other. The battle has come to a standstill, and neither side dares to make a move.

You think that half the problem lies not with you, but with Leon, and what he does with all his free time. He’s not the type to laze around; you think you know him well enough to make that assumption, but you aren’t sure anymore.

Cue example one: the mysterious phone calls that have begun to grow in frequency, the ones that always sour Leon’s mood, leave him sullen and unfriendly to talk to. Eventually, you grow tired of his monosyllabic answers, and make your absence known, still wondering what goes on in his life.

With a furrowed brow, he glances at the caller ID, his expression tightening with concern. You watch as his once-relaxed posture stiffens with some unseen burden. With a sigh, he excuses himself to take the call, leaving you momentarily alone with your thoughts.

You can sense the tension tinging the area, Leon’s clenched jaw betraying the stress he tries to conceal as he stalks back to you, shoving his phone into his pocket, evidently agitated.

“You don’t need a ride home, do you?” His voice contrasts his request; he obviously isn’t in the mood to drive you home. 

“I’ll get a cab.” You shake your head, not wanting to be the instrument he releases all that pent up anger on.

He casts a shadow over you, standing tall and easy, in the dying sun he looks like a dying angel, his eyes soft and sad, skin begging to be touched. And while you want nothing more than to reach out and caress his cheek, tell him it’ll be okay, kiss his troubles away, you don’t know what you are right now.

Friends? Would a friend do that? So you offer him a supportive smile, trying not to seem deliberate, and amidst the fading light of the park and the cooling breeze that accompanies you back to your divided lives, you already regret it, watching Leon speed off, just a distant thought in your memory. 

You should trust your gut more often.

<><><><>

As the car glides through the shadowy city streets, you catch sight of the new monument in the distance, the one Leon must’ve told you about. Surprising yourself, you decide to take a spontaneous detour. You tap your driver on the shoulder, and she smiles encouragingly. For the most part, the drive was silent, but you don’t mind her soft voice explaining the history behind why they decided to construct it in the first place.

She pulls around the corner, approaching the area near the monument, but the statue quickly is pushed to the back of your mind. It’s the flashing police lights and a sense of urgency in the air that catches your attention. A crime scene tape cordons off the area, and officers are stopping all vehicles passing through.

A stern-faced cop approaches your cab and instructs you both to step out. The driver uneasily abandons her car where it’s parked, then weaves through the forming crowd effortlessly, as if she’s gotten used to the downtown mobs of people.

You, however, barely come to this side of the town, where the city lights are always attacking your eyes that are comfortable with the soft sunset across the farm, where the people are always knocking against each other like clumsy goats, everyone bustling with a purpose.

As you also try your best to push your way through the throng, a knot forms in your stomach at the sight that greets you in the center of the commotion. The blood reaches up to where your footsteps falter, where everyone steps back to avoid staining their footwear.

Splatters of crimson paint a macabre picture that sends a shiver down your spine. The wail of sirens pierces the night, flaring lights casting an eerie glow that dances like amethyst flames, illuminating the limp body that uniformed figures crouch near.

And one of those figures, someone you’d never expect at the grim scene of a murder, is Leon, his unfamiliar stony expression cast in a stark light against the backdrop of chaos.

You draw closer, questions threatening to unravel the fabric of your reality, steeling yourself for the confrontation, because you thought you were close to him, a person he could trust. Was that such a silly thought? To think that you might have had something?

Apparently it was.

“Leon?” you demand, pressing yourself into the caution tape, warning bells ringing in your mind at the neon yellow bending to your will against your stomach.

“What?” He glances up and around, scanning the entire world until his eyes land on yours, going wide slightly, and his position stumbles, as if his legs give way.

“Get up, rookie,” another cop barks. “Focus! And you, stop distracting him!” Someone bats at your face, but you just sidestep the blow and storm closer, in the tension of the moment.

If you had just a speck of your sense at the time, you might’ve forced yourself to step away, to take a few calming deep breaths, but seeing his face dappled in such an unnatural light, to see his warmth be taken away to something that’s real, something like a life gone. 

You always saw him as your solace, away from your life, something that was unreal, just for you. You forget to see him as a being of his own, with feelings of his own. And sadly, you don’t know the difference between impulsive and intrusive. 

You’re surprised when Leon rises to meet your eyes, albeit it only lasts for a moment until he’s towering over you again, and there’s a sense of authority there that wasn’t there before, eyes strict and narrowed.

“I’ll talk to you later,” he says, in such a final tone it doesn’t occur to you that you could argue back. But his voice, a splinter of your Leon, the one you know, slips through. “I promise.”

So you stand back, near the patrol cars, their wails ratting your skull, but you grit your teeth and force yourself through it, eyes directed on Leon. It’s a while before the crowd clears, presumably because the idea of a murder is enticing until they see how long it truly takes, as compared to television.

But you stand there, leaning against the side of the car that you know is Leon’s, recognizing it as the one that you’ve rode in so many times, and you wonder why he’s taken a fragment of your time here, to this place outside of your relationship.

Eventually, Leon makes frantic motions to the top of the monument, stretching to the sky before gesturing back to the body, and everyone around him offers a pensive expression and solemn nods before someone calls out something you can’t hear.

The sirens die down immediately, and everyone claps Leon on the back. He flushes and stumbles with them to the cars, and you promptly ignore everyone’s gaze on you as he approaches. But there’s someone with him. 

Feline eyes meet yours, an arm draped over his shoulder, competitive expression and this mysterious woman and Leon saunter over to you. She’s dressed in a long, beige trench coat, and her black sunglasses rest low on her nose, perched just right so that she can lift her face to offer you the most cursory of glances before turning away.

And she has the audacity to peck Leon on the cheek before she gives you a smug smile with the side of her face that only you can see before waving goodbye, somehow gracefully, and stalking away to what you assume is a fancy sports car.

“Look, I know you have a lot of questions.” Leon holds up his hands in defense, before grinning, and involuntarily, you feel the corner of your mouth quirk upwards.

“Lot of is an understatement,” you grumble.

“Talk over dinner?” he offers.

“Is this you trying to impress me?”

“I mean, I don’t know,” he says with a soft chuckle. “Is it working?”

<><><><>

“Right, and you didn’t think telling me you were a fucking cop was important?” Your spring roll is devastated, its insides spilling everywhere on your plate, bits of cabbage and carrot dotting the cardboard.

“I didn’t think it would change anything between us,” he mumbles. “So what difference would it make?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You push away from the table, and his eyes follow you when you stand up, and his actions seem to come naturally, as an instinct, when he trails you across the empty store.

“You know what it means!” he protests.

“Maybe I don’t, Leon, so maybe you should explain,” you retort. “Explain why you thought it was okay to lead me on like that, all this time, when you have a girlfriend! Which one of us are you really cheating on?”

“What?” Now he looks genuinely confused, and his confusion seems to spark some doubt in your own defense, breaking down your sure walls. “Girlfriend? Cheating?”

His eyes are glazed over with tears, and if he starts crying, you’re not sure what you’ll do. You take a step closer, but now he’s the one to recoil away, shaking his head, wiping his eyes.

Leon inhales sharply. “How could you say something like that? I told you when we met, I’m not… not very good with these kinds of things.”

“But she-”

“Kissed me?” He scoffs. “Yeah, right. Like your mother’s never kissed you goodnight.”

You misread everything. That smug smile was her approval, on those curved lips, those narrowed eyes that were… well, just always narrowed. How could you get something so wrong?

"I... I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. "I didn't know... I thought..." Your words falter as you struggle to find the right ones to express the whirlwind of relief, a gust of skittish butterflies pattering against the walls of your stomach, trying to find release.

"I should have been honest from the start," he murmurs, his gaze never leaving yours. "My job… it can hurt people. You saw. I want to keep you safe."

“You’re not mad?” you ask quietly.

Leon's eyes twinkle with a hint of mischief as he responds, "How could I ever be mad at this cute little face?" He playfully puffs your cheeks together, a gesture meant to be endearing.

Before you can fully process his teasing remark, Leon's demeanor shifts once again, his voice lower and more intimate as he adds, "Or... these lips." And with a sudden, decisive move, he leans in and presses a tender kiss against your lips.

And your fragile world topples over.

Again.

<><><><>

Leon never ceases to surprise you, that much you can definitely expect. You shut your computer, ready for your lunch break, when someone calls your name from the lower floor. That much you’ve come to expect, but while you’re gathering your belongings, someone else calls out something else.

“Hey, hurry up! Don’t keep your boyfriend waiting!”

To say you stumbled would be nice. You somehow manage to trip over the arm of the chair, end up with all your papers fluttering to the ground, but you ignore the mess and file it away for later, trying to tame your hair (an impossible feat in three seconds) as you storm down the stairs.

Your heels click on the tiles as you make your descent as graceful as can be, minus that one part where you trip and lurch forward before gripping the hand railing for safety. You see him standing at the entrance, talking to the receptionist guy, a box nestled between his arms. 

“Doughnuts?” you ask, staring at the box enticingly, recognizing the bright pink and rainbow sprinkles from your childhood. 

“Got some free time,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to your nose before opening the box. It seems that you really have everyone’s attention now. “And coupons!”

You toss him a shit eating grin to show your returned affection before immediately curling your fingers around a glazed doughnut. And eventually, once the first person timidly approaches, quietly asking if they could maybe have one, Leon beams.

“I brought enough for everyone!” he proclaims, and he steps to the side to reveal three similar boxes, all presumably stocked with the same doughnuts.

“Looks like you’re an office favorite now, huh?” you tease, nudging him with your elbow. He shifts from your impact and returns the gesture, in the process of doing so smears chocolate frosting on the underside of his nose.

“I’ll always be your favorite officer though, right?” he jokes in response.

You don’t respond, you’re too busy staring at that one smear of cocoa against his skin, and suddenly you’re itching for a napkin, so you twist over your shoulder to grab one.

“Righ-” His echo is muffled by the napkin stuffed into his mouth as you gently dab at the area, squinting your eyes. 

“Yeah, of course, totally,” you mumble absentmindedly, satisfied with your efforts. You take the excuse a little further just to stare at his amused expression, the quirk of his brow, the tilt of his eyes softening.

Your colleagues will never let you hear the end of this.

Either way, since he’s on break and he’s on the manager’s good side, bribing her with a few Boston Cream doughnuts, she allows him to hop upstairs with you.

“So, if you’re a cop,” you ask while rubbing hand sanitizer into your palms. “Why’re you working at Panda Express?”

“They lowered the income rate for the citizens of Raccoon City, including the police force,” he grumbles, swinging his legs from where he’s perched on the side of your desk. “Which I think is totally stupid!”

“So you think you shouldn’t have applied at all?” you query further.

“Well, honestly? I’m glad I applied,” he admits, and at your questioning expression, continues, “I wouldn’t have met you.”

“Hooray, taxes,” you say numbly, flipping through the giant stack of papers left on your desk, all jumbled up from your earlier mishap.

“Hooray, taxes, indeed,” he agrees.

“I was being sarcastic.” Leon scoffs, twisting over his shoulder to lean down and meet your lips. When he pulls away, there’s an endearing yet mocking look in his eyes.

“I’m not that stupid.”

<><><><>

Nothing happens that day, you don’t see a black cat anywhere, you don’t walk under any ladders, and if you do walk on cracks, well, you do that every day, so your luck must always be this horrible, right?

You’ve somehow scored this moonlit masterpiece strolling beside you, a being born from the clouds, so maybe you’re not all that unlucky.

Usually, you get a warning when bad things happen. But all you can feel is the jittery, warm feeling that you get when you’re brushing hands with Leon, trying to bring him closer to you. You think he notices, and doesn’t say anything.

You invite yourself into his car, but the first of many problems to come arrives in the form of water that splashes on Leon’s face, just above his eyebrow, and he quickly slides into his seat.

You absently brush the area, admiring his hair, his boyish qualities, and suddenly wonder if he’s always looked this young. Far too innocent for the world.

“It’s nice in here,” you offer.

He sinks back into the seat with a gentle, relaxed smile. "Well, either way, get comfortable. Looks like we’re expecting rain.”

You nod, legs unsteady, and find yourself nestled in leather beside his cologne-scented form. The engine hums to life, and he shifts gears, pulling onto the road as traffic flees.

He glances over, moonlight caressing sculpted cheeks. "What’s wrong?"

“Do you have any water?” He gestures to the water bottle in the cupholder on his left side, on the driver’s door. Your knees knock against each other as you reach over to grasp it, ducking under his outstretched arms, averting your eyes to your right rather than the other direction.

“Can I…?” You gesture to the bottle. “Or should I just like, you know, waterfall, or whatever-”

“We’ve literally exchanged saliva,” he states bluntly. “I don’t think I have a problem with you drinking from my water bottle.”

“Ugh, you weirdo.” But you’re the one drinking like a starved woman, which you suppose that you are, but that of which you’re really dragging your gaze over isn’t the water.

And you suppose, logically, Leon’s 70% water.

Water that evaporates under the heat of your eyes, drifting up to the previously cloudless sky, forming puffs of sorrow that cry back down to you, tears slamming against the windshield. You ponder how he can even see the road through the downpour.

Eventually, after grumbling under his breath, Leon pulls over, gazing into your upturned face with a question in his eyes, older than his years.

“Would you, uhm, mind if we just went to my place? It’s closer anyways, and I don’t want to risk driving any further than I have to in these conditions…”

You smile, and he can see your answer woven in your eyes.

<><><><>

Leon forgot to mention his (adoptive) parents live right next door. So of course, when they’re just out and about casually watching him through the door camera, they might just happen to say a dashing young lady walk out of his car.

And said young lady is unfamiliar to these judging, supreme figures that must decide Leon’s fate for him, because he’s just a boy. Their precious little baby.

So that’s what you assumed happened when Leon’s parents clambered out of their door, calling for you to wait, his mother pulling her cardigan around herself tighter against the chill.

And now here you are, facing two people that, no offense, look nothing like the man seated next to you, fingers entwined, foot tapping out a nervous beat on the wooden floor.

“So, darling, how’s work going?” Another placeholder question for what she really wants to know: how much do you make in a year? Do you have a degree? Did you even finish high school?

You respond with everything they must want to hear, like those questions on the backs of those 2000’s magazines with the answer that’s always right, the one that has the perfect amount of sense in it, the Goldilocks rule.

Goldilocks must have been gobbled up by the bears this night, because every answer seems to deepen the furrow forming between their brows, as if they’re in sync, and you wonder how you can manage to screw up something that should be simple.

Meeting the parents, check. What’s next, falling into the cake at the wedding? You must be planning too far ahead judging by their unimpressed looks.

“Mom,” Leon groans. “Cut it out!”

“I’m just getting to know her, sweetie,” she replies sweetly, voice dripping like molasses, and you can tell there’s a lot more she’s keeping behind her tongue. "Well, dear, do you have any hobbies or interests you're passionate about?"

"Oh, I just love cooking!" you exclaim, a spark of enthusiasm lighting up your face. Maybe you’ve finally found something to impress them with.

Leon's father leans in, his interest piqued. "What kind of dishes do you enjoy cooking?" he asks, a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice.

"I love trying out new recipes from different cuisines," you reply, your excitement palpable. "Right now I’m learning how to cook Thai cuisine!"

Leon's mother nods, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Cooking is such a beautiful art form," she muses, her face softening. "It's wonderful to see someone so passionate about creating delicious meals. Someone who can share that love with our son."

You wonder if any other girl had waltzed along, marveled at cooking with them, would they have dropped their judging character immediately, just as they had with you?

You suppose it’s a mystery you don’t need to solve.

Besides, you don’t have to worry about facades with Leon.

Of course not.

But you do wonder why he hasn’t touched any of the food.

<><><><>

You sit back, sly fingers curved around the tender flesh of his waist, pressing your head further into the crook of his arm. You watch his chest rise and fall like the arrival and departure of the sun, bringing you warmth under the blanket that restricts your movements, tucked in around you like a burrito.

He must be hot, you realize, he’s sweltering under the blanket, but when you offer to turn on the overhead fan, he shivers like he’s cold at the same time and shakes his head.

In moments of silence, you catch glimpses of a far off-look in his eyes, a horror movie long forgotten, as if his thoughts have wandered to a place you can’t reach. There’s shadows of things he doesn’t say, things you know he wants to say.

“Hey, are you good?” You shift your weight to look up at him, where you might’ve found yourself admiring the curve of his chin, or his dappled skin, but now you only feel concern.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, mouth stretching in a yawn. “My new case is taking a bit longer than I’d hoped.”

“Mhm?” you press gently, wanting to get more clarity on the situation without seeming nosy. His response is delayed, a different, pitiful expression grappling to take hold.

“Oh… the, uhm, pharmaceutical company? Something that has to do with… was it rain?” Leon shakes his head, clicking his tongue in the back of his throat. “You know what? Forget it. Tonight’s our night.”

He says ‘our’, but he pays you little to no attention for the next three hours. 

Your first thought is that you're boring him. Have you already become so insufferable that he doesn’t want to hang out with you anymore? You had expected it, of course, you’re not a very animated person, but he loved you, didn't he?

Leon’s gone quiet, silent, like he’s back in that box in his mind you can never seem to pierce. The light that used to dance in his eyes now flickers dimly, like a fading ember struggling to hold onto its warmth.

He carries himself with the same grace and poise, like a practiced act to a play you weren’t a part of, and you can’t push it away anymore. But of course, as all things in your life seem to follow, when you finally find yourself gaining the courage to confront him, he's gone.

<><><><>

Missing. And no one knows where he is. And some part of you blames yourself, you obviously must've scared him away.

“You know what’s wrong!” You bite your tongue to keep you from raising your volume, not so much fearing the fish beneath you but the woman leaning against the shipping containers, scrutinizing slender nails with feigned boredom.

If Leon trusts her, she should hear your first plea. She knows him better than you do, much to your dismay, but it could work out in your favor currently.

Her expression remains stony.

"Please," you beg, and a sliver of emotion slips through that mask- confusion? "Help me save Leon. I know you care for him, even if you can't show it."

Her crimson lips quirk. "I have… undisclosed reasons for ensuring his well-being. But my work takes precedence, and I can’t disclose anything to you." 

You glare through lingering tears. "No deals, no games. You tell me where he's investigating right now." 

A long pause, then she sighs. "Very well. It seems you really won't leave me alone, hm?" She grins coldly. "Shall we play the heroes, just this once?"

Playing the heroes is harder than it turns out to be, it seems. 

"Evening, boys. My associate and I have a… delivery." The guards blink, stupefied, then waves you through with dopey grins, mostly directed at her. Ada smirks. "Pathetic."

A floorplan materializes in her hand, every room and hallway illuminated with ghastly blue precision. "Samples are held in labs B5 through 7. Avoid guards, cameras. And try not to set anything off - we're on a tight schedule."

You dart through shadows, cautiously approaching the correct hall. Surprisingly, nothing contradicts your journey, as if the whole building’s been abandoned. Guess it’s your lucky day. 

You're wondering just how lucky you really are when you turn to usher Ada ahead, only to freeze as you turn the corner, and there, just a few feet away, he sits.

So calmly, so pristine, as if life was just as simple as sitting on the floor, in the middle of a hallway, in a building where you don't belong, after ghosting everyone who knows you for two days.

And yet there's something different. Haggard eyes stare from a chalk-white face, lips twisted in a feral snarl. That face, once so stunning you had to think about his existence, now only conveys hatred.

"L-Leon?" you breathe. But those eyes betray no recognition, only hunger. As your stare, transfixed by fright and grief, a click sounds behind you.

"Well, well. Fancy meeting you here." Ada glares down the barrel she points to Leon's head, somehow still perfectly composed. You want to rip off her head. "Now, are we all going to play nice?"

For a heartbeat, no one moves. Then Leon's eyes flicker, awareness filtering into his eyes by slow degrees, and he stands up at half that speed, as if time is against him.

But then he jolts back, as if something's clicked, and suddenly he's back with you, standing in front of you, gasping for breath and clutching you tightly.

You wait for a moment, not quite sure if you're imagining things or not, before a dry, unamused chuckle rips from your throat and slowly morphs into the laugh you're used to sharing with him.

Leon leans closer to you, resting your forehead against his, cupping your face as he stares down at you, recognition so evident in those open eyes. “How'd you find me?”

“Well, it's not like the department was going to notice,” you mumble, rolling your eyes. Ada scoffs in reply, but her head tilts to the side.

“And your endearing girlfriend here wouldn't let me get away that easily.”

You suppose her tone is light enough that you can let it pass as a joke, and at the moment you're so overwhelmed with relief that you aren't too worried about her idea of you either way.

“Seeing you… gosh,” he groans, pressing a palm to his temple, hissing. “I can barely think straight!”

“I know, baby, I know,” you coo comfortingly, keeping your voice soft so as to not alert any guards that might've pulled up around the area.

“No, I can't…” His eyes go fazed again, blank, emotionless, and once again he's slipped through your grasp like grains of sand on a beach, only there is nothing tranquil about this situation.

“Leon, listen to me. You’re going to be just fine,” you affirm, nodding your head, hoping he'll copy your motion.

He doesn't. "I...I can feel it," he gasps. Beads of sweat run tracks through the grim on his face. "It's… stronger than me..."

You grip his hand tight, ignoring the growing feverheat. "No, Leon, you can beat this. You always do." But even you can hear the desperation in your voice.

And you wait for Ada to chime in with some classic, yet somehow sassy third-wheel dialogue, but it never comes. In fact, she's vanished into the shadows, presumably already so far away you can't hear the click of her heels on the sterile floors.

Leon groans, and your attention snaps back to him, face contorting. "Go," he grits out. "Drive… and don't look back."

“I’m not leaving you here!” you proclaim, and his eyes soften in confusion as you sling his arms around your shoulder.

You're sure half the population must've heard your racket at this point, but it seems something else has gotten the security's attention.

As long as it's not you, you don't mind. Leon’s lower lip wavers, unshed tears sparkling in his eyes, and you want to peck everything that hurts until he's okay. But you can't be sure of anything until you're both safe.

The first responders always seem to pick up the prank calls from the teenagers that don't need their help, but it seems like hours go by the more Leon's blood coats your fingers, and inevitably, your phone screen.

He's stopped responding to your questions, and you fight to keep just a fragment of his conscience there with you, but his eyes, the vivid blue gone dull, meet yours and offer no further response.

When the ambulance finally arrives, they leave you outside the gates, denying you entry, with those ruby dusted hands and diamond streaked face.

You suppose you've always wanted to be the jewel in the night that races to the hospital to see their lover. And now that just seems silly.

<><><><>

Three weeks.

That's all the time he'll have with you. And even then, he's not truly there. He struggles to formulate his own thoughts, and now, whenever you see him, all you can think of is who he used to be.

As for Ada, you haven't seen her since. She hasn't snitched on you, so you suppose that it wouldn't hurt anyone to keep the events of that day between the three of you.

Two of you, now.

He isn't a person anymore. He isn't your Leon. But that's hard to remember when you've never been good at seeing what's beneath the surface, the dense, complex layers that create a person.

You see his soft, peaceful face that is like second nature to you, and you wonder if he'll respond to you today, even after hours of repeating the same truth that you know somewhere, deep down, you’ll never believe. The doctor's left the room already, decreeing two hours of treatment should do something for him, save him, much like removing a tumor.

“I went to our place, picked up some lunch for us,” you murmur, knowing he can't hear you. “You weren’t standing at the counter like always, and I almost lost it. Again.”

You can imagine him, if he was really here, chuckling, shaking his head at your questionable behavior. Not just a shell, a half of a person, but a whole that somehow also completed you.

See, this is why you failed math. Are you half a person without him, or whole?

“I got us a fortune cookie!” you say, trying to keep your voice upbeat, as if your positive energy could transfer to him, in a magical, mystical manner, and he'd come back to you.

“Let's read it, yeah?” No point in waiting for a response when you know it'll never come.

Thin, pale letters. How odd, they resemble Leon's strangely flushed face.

“Today, your voice will bring a smile.” You suppress one of those and instead roll your eyes. “Your friends can’t think of new content, can they?”

You stuff the paper into your handbag, slung over the plastic chair near his bed. You've blocked out the rest of the world, now is time for just you two, however far away he may seem. Which is why you scowl up at the doctor, slightly confused at her sympathetic look, and then your ears ring and you shift back to reality. The reality of the situation.

The reality of the flatline.

The reality that, no matter how much you thrash in the security guard's arms, Leon's not coming back. He’s gone.

In a way, he's been gone for longer than you've chosen to accept. Maybe it would've been easier to let him go sooner. You're marched straight out of the hospital, a beeline for the exit, and you have little time to shout your goodbyes.

But you've grown used to taking advice from cookies. After all, they've gotten you to this point. The sarcasm you had so long ago seems silly to you, now, the fact that a biscuit could decide your fate.

To Leon?

Your voice keeps him smiling all the way up to the clouds.

[bunnwich]

It's Supposed to Be Fun

(a letter to my friends in the twst fandom)

I've been wanting to make this post for a while and these thoughts may seem scattered but I’m gonna try to express them. 

Lately, I have seen many friends and moots that either are leaving the fandom or feel guilty over not having posted in a while or losing interest in twst. On the other side, I also have friends being harassed.

This a reminder to remember why you joined this community to begin with. I know that keeping up with the fast-moving pace of fandom and comparing ourselves to others, can skew our perspective on these things.

It’s supposed to be fun. 

Why do we post art or write? Sure, partly for recognition, there's no denying that. But, why do we create, I mean really? For enjoyment. Not for others, not to be “popular” FOR JOY.

So, whether you’re dealing with people critiquing you or feeling guilty about not creating. My question is this: Why waste so much of your time on something that makes you miserable?

Did it stop being fun? Why? Haters? Loss of interest?

To my friends who feel guilty for not creating and not sure if they lost interest in twst: 

Don’t feel guilty. At one time, the creation of your twst content was natural. It's what you did for fun with friends or for yourself. Revisit that mindset and think - if creating twst content now will bring that same joy it did before.

If the answer is no, then maybe it’s time to pivot. It’s okay for interests to fade. It doesn’t mean that time, memories, or the friends you made are lost. Connect with your friends, we will understand! We still love you! It's not a race there's no time limit, just pick up were you want to. Draw fanart of old events or OCs.

To my friends who have been harassed: 

I say this with sincerity…. People who harass others over fictional characters are fucking losers.

Like… There’s no other eloquent way to encapsulate it. I’m starting to not care for the reason anymore - If you harass or be shady to others over a ship or fictional character. CONGRATS! YOU ARE A LOSER.

We all join fandoms as a hobby, for fun. We’re all just kids in the sandbox playing pretend again… and if you are the type of person to go up just to “kick the doll out of someone’s hand" or make commentary on how “their way of playing is wrong." You’re a loser. I have a life outside of twst, we all do. Someone saying my ship is wrong or cringe is just so laughable to me. We have to make fun of these people more for being so goddamn lame.

Imagine being so unhappy that when you see someone having fun you HAVE to comment on it. By all means, if it gets you through the day...talk shit to close friends or even post about it on your own blog. (THAT WAS ALWAYS ALLOWED.) Don't bother creators directly. Don't be a loser. I sure see tolerance leave people’s bodies when they see a fandom opinion they don't like. (And this is coming from someone who has lots of opinions on these things! But that's why I always put the disclaimers that, hey this is just MY opinion.)

Discussion is one thing, unhelpful comments are another. We shouldn’t give these people the time of day. Curate your online space. Yes, when you post things online you are subjecting yourself to scrutiny. But, we as creators need to stop letting these people have power over us. Period. We do this for free!! FOR FUN. The best thing you can do is create shamelessly.

Delete weird replies, block whoever you need to do to rid yourself of these people who have nothing better to do. Keep your peace. It’s supposed to be for fun. You don’t owe anyone a response.

The twst fandom is like a little family to me and I guess I feel protective over the people in it?  I have made many friends and memories because I joined it. And even dispite a handful of the negative experiences (AKA: A couple of “losers" that I’ve had to deal with.) I’ll always look fondly back on this time.

The key for me has always been to just…create for myself. I originally made bunnwich for me and one friend to make fun little arts about our Yuu’s and now I get to have lots of friends to share it with! I’ve transitioned from an OC blog to probably more of an Oc x Canon blog…but I don’t care tbh. I just…draw what I feel like. I know there are people who probably dislike me for that or feel strange about my content and that’s fine. I’m still gonna keep drawing it, loser.  

And I just want you guys to do the same, twst or not.

I can’t forget that all my followers and friends are a bonus, if I had never joined tumblr I’d still be drawing the silly shit I draw in peace. And while yes, I do want to grow as an artist and sell more merch and keep growing... I can’t forget my initial excitement for this silly little game. I like to talk about it. I like to write about it. It inspires me.

It’s supposed to be fun. Please remember that. I know it can be discouraging to have others being shitty to you. Or going through a creative drought. But, try not to let this stop you from creating what you love.

[carowleysposts]

What happened to Aziraphale and Crowley between 1941 and 1967?

It is well known by the fandom that Aziraphale realizes he’s in love with Crowley after Crowley saves him and his books from the n4zis in 1941. That moment marks the shift of their relationship, when Aziraphale sees that not only did Crowley know him well enough to save his books, but also was there for the sole purpose of rescuing him - because he cared. This moment led to their most romantic adventure yet, which involved the car “is there anything i can do for you in return?” scene, the magic trick performance, the “trust me” moment and a very intimate, private, candlelit dinner.

They had crossed a very visible line in their relationship, you could see it in the way they were looking at each other, being more open, talking and drinking together. They were acting romantically towards each other, even if they couldn’t admit it or talk about it.

But then, the next time we see them, it’s almost like they moved backwards in they’re relationship. Aziraphale is practically unable to look directly at Crowley when he first gets in the car. And then we get the iconic, yet heartbreaking and confusing “you go too fast for me, Crowley”. And you can see that Aziraphale looks almost mournful after saying that.

I saw a post on twitter comparing the two car scenes - the one where Aziraphale is practically throwing himself at Crowley and then the one where he’s hesitant towards him.

And it made me think. Like, whatever happened between those two car scenes has an impact that lasts for many years, as we can CLEARLY see that 2008 Aziraphale and Crowley were still a bit colder and more distant than their 1941 selves. Their relationship backtracked a lot from that candlelit dinner. And i don’t think that’s a plot hole, i truly think there’s something we don’t know yet.

Of course, after the events of season one, they’re back to being really close, their dynamic is pretty much restored and we can see them hold hand in the bus - which David Tennant has confirmed happened, and it is heavily implied that Aziraphale stays at Crowley’s that night, where they did the body swap for the trials.

BUT! In the first episode of Season 2, Aziraphale mentions that he had to do the “i’m sorry” dance in 1941. It definitely happened after that candlelit dinner, so could that event - which led to the apology dance - be connected to why they had a temporary falling out? What was it that happened after that dinner? Are we going to see more from 1941?

It has been the only time period that was shown in both seasons, and it was perhaps the most romantic and significant time they’ve spent together prior to the events of season two. Perhaps they went a little too far and weren’t prepared for that? Perhaps they’ve miscommunicated and had a big fight? I don’t know, i’m hoping our dearest @neil-gaiman has an answer for that.

Also, when Crowley says “no nightingales” before kissing Aziraphale, Aziraphale seems to understand perfectly what he’s referring to. He looks absolutely crushed after Crowley says that. So it led me to believe something in the past made them associate “A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square” to their relationship and perhaps talk about it. And i believe that, if i am correct and they have talked about the nightingales before, it was in 1941. But then, what do I know?

I would REALLY love to see your theories as to what happened between them after that dinner, if anything at all. Also, does anyone wanna be moots? My posts have been very successful but i’m not getting followers and i really want to meet more of you.

[glamourscat]

you’re now my new friend so im gonna complain about some fans🤭🤭🤭

THE OTHER THING I WANT TO TALK ABOUT IS tim isn’t weak????? its canon damian says “drake is stronger than i like to admit” or something like that but the idea is that tim is canonically strong i mean cmon he’s a bat??? i saw something that another writer wrote and i really don’t want to disrespect but she(?) wrote something like tim couldn’t do the ‘jacked and kind’ trend. HE CAN HE HAVE TO IF HE COULD NOT HOW CAN HE BE A BAT HE HAVE TO BE STRONG

and he’s really smart like i don’t even now how to say it but its conan bruce think tim can even be smarter than him and damian says tim is the smartest!!!

i mean i get it tim isn’t the most popular robin but he’s really great but tiktok and tumblr makes him look like an idiot who’s just soft??? HE IS NOT his story is really interesting if you just read instead of making him look like some weak thing.

and bcz of the misinformation people just don’t like tim😭😭😭😭

and i don’t even want to talk about coffee addiction LIKE PLS STOP THIS MADNESS

ps:i probably made grammer mistakes sorry🙏🏼 AND i would like to send some asks when im more awake😭😭😭 it’s 3am rn

Don’t worry about it ahaha. Me and grammatical errors are like this 🤝🏻. Also, if you’re comfortable with it, let’s be moots 😭. I honestly need more people to yap with about Tim.

and yes ofc! Feel free to send more asks about Tim whenever u wish :)

Now, onto what you said. YES, YES, AND YES AGAIN. Thank you! I’m going to be honest here, I think Tim’s mischaracterization as “weak” boils down to the fact that many people see him as a twink……. The amount of art, both drawn and written, where he is depicted as this frail little thing that can’t think for himself and is weak and shy is too big. I mean, are we looking at the same character?

When I see people butchering Tim’s character, it’s clear to me that they haven’t read the comics. I’m not saying you need to read ALL of them—that’s just absurd considering the number of runs there are. Just the main ones could be beneficial. You know, having a general idea about the character.

He was trained by Bruce (and we know Bruce’s training is anything but easy), Nightwing and lastly, Lady Shiva herself. He has mastered many unarmed styles of fighting, including Leopard Kung Fu, Savate, Judo, Capoeira, Karate, Dragon Kung Fu, and Bojutsu.

He might not be a tank like Jason (side note: let’s remember Jason is the way he is thanks to the Lazarus Pit, because he was malnourished growing up, which stunted his growth). Just because Tim isn’t ripped and has a leaner build doesn’t mean he is weak. Nor does it mean he is stupid. His IQ is 142, and he is cited as the most analytical of Batman’s proteges, with detective skills on par with Batman himself. Like you said, BRUCE HIMSELF says he believes Tim is smarter than him in some ways.

And on the coffee addiction—that’s so funny to me because, if I’m not wrong, he drank coffee ONE time in canon, someone made it his personality, and everyone ran with it 😭.

I just can’t. Honestly, Tim is a skater boy. A punk at heart, who listens to bands like Oasis and Green Day. He is absolutely obsessive at times, loud and opinionated. He is a child prodigy and grew up rather isolated. Then his mother died. He and his father got into deep arguments because of his job as Robin. He stopped, then started again. His father died, and he found his father’s dead body while wearing his Robin uniform. He escaped Bruce for about a month, forging a fake adoption certificate from a FAKE uncle he made up because he didn’t want to be taken in by Bruce.

He feels like he is a burden and still keeps that sentiment, which was incremented when Damian joined the family and took his spot as Robin, leaving Tim feeling hopeless. He became Red Robin, lost his best friend (or something more) and went absolutely insane trying to clone him. He can’t handle loss for shit. The same thing happened in his Red Robin run where he ignored both Nightwing and Steph, who tried to stop him from following his unhinged plan of finding Bruce, who was presumed dead but Tim thought was alive. To save his loved ones, he willingly jumped from a building while injured, almost dying.

This, in my eyes, is anything but weak.

He is my unhinged bisexual gremlin. Love him so much

[jennifer-jeong]

Fluff + Angst | Wanderer x GN!Reader Human

SUMMARY You make him feel human.

CONTENT Angst to fluff, mentions of Wanderer's trauma, mentions of suicidal ideation, he's kinda mean to you at first, CHARACTERS ARE 18+

AUTHOUR'S NOTE THIS IS WAS INSPIRED BY YOU MY POOKIE @thepurestgirll TY FOR BEING SO SWEET ESP BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE MANY MOOTS JFKDS;LAJ I love your fics and aesthetic and I hope to continue to see your content because I will always be here to love and support it >:)

WORD COUNT: 854

Quiet sobs rack through the empty metal chamber. In the middle sits a man puppet of a man. Clutching the electro gnosis to his chest as his tears pelt the cold floor. Wasn’t this all he ever wanted? He finally has a “heart,” he should feel human, loved, and fit in now, right? But why is he crying? Why does he still feel hollow? Why does he want to give it all up to just be a normal human? Why did his mother create him this way just to throw him aside and make him suffer even more? Why not just have killed him long ago? Should he do it himself? Be free of this wretched body? Be free of all the earthly pain?

So many questions swirled in his mind. His gentle soul has been beat and battered to the point where he doesn’t know the meaning of peace anymore. He’s been alive for so long, chasing the same answer, the same goal. Yet, here he is. So many questions and not a single fucking answer.

Even after all that extra bullshit with Nahida, the traveler, and Irminsul, he only got bits and pieces of answers he needed. He was still lost and hurting, not that he’d ever admit that. So naturally he’s a complete ass to you when all you’re trying to do is help. You’re another adventurer and you often help the traveler when needed. You witnessed a good amount of Wanderer’s tragic journey in Sumeru and afterwards asked Nahida (his mom) if it would be a good idea to try to talk to him. She said yes but that it’d be quite… difficult.

You persevered, though. Through every insult thrown your way, all the times he ignored you, and even the times his attitude almost got you hurt when adventuring. After weeks of it, he found himself here, crying, but this time, in your arms.

He was yelling at you like he usually does but this time it was because you almost got crushed by debris while you two were out on combat commissions. He was telling you how stupid you were, how it would’ve gotten you killed, and how he… couldn’t let it happen. You smiled at him, hearing him say something caring for the first time since you started this whole mission of yours. You walk towards him slowly as he continues to insult you.

“You stupid humans, you never think before you act. Imagine what would’ve happened if I didn’t call out to you to warn you. You-… You’d be dead! I’d spite you because of it! You and your human body, so fucking fragile. Why did I ever want to be like your kind anyways?”

As you close the distance, he gets panicked and confused, shouting at you.

“Why are you even still here anyways?! Isn’t all this too much for you? Why would you want to help someone like me? Don’t you know I’m not human? Why would you want me here? Why would you want to stay? W-why…”

You reach out your arms to slowly envelop him in a hug as his tears well in his eyes. He puts his hands on your shoulders to push you back lightly as if he didn’t want the contact, but he was barely putting up a fight. You both knew that if he didn’t want you to touch him, you wouldn’t even be able to.

“Why… do you even care about me,” he croaked out as his voice started to crack.

“Because I see all the good in you, and I want you to let others see it as well,” you say gently as you pull him close, arms around his waist.

He feels his emotions finally boil over as waves of sadness wash over him. His legs fail under him and you lower the two of you to the grass. He buries his head into your shoulder, sobbing harder as your warmth permeates his body that has only known the cold for so so many years. His arms clutch your head as he stains your shoulder with tears.

You feel so warm. You feel so human. It makes him feel human.

You’ve been taking such good care of him and he doesn’t think he deserves it, but he doesn’t voice it to you, at least not now. You let him cry it out while patting his back. You imagine he hasn’t ever been comforted while crying before and it’s what’s making him cry harder.

You two end the afternoon with him exhausted and you offer to let him rest his head on your legs. You pat his hair as he drifts into sleep, feeling safe for the first time in a long while. The sun warms both your bodies and you bask in it.

You two probably have a lot to talk about when he wakes up. But you stay silent for now. Enjoying the peace that he rarely gets to have. It’s a long healing journey ahead of you two but this puppet man knows that he wouldn’t rather embark on it with anyone else.

|| MASTERLIST ♡ || Thank you for reading! ||

[ourhees]

( 🎀 ) : MY 2O25 SEASON’S GREETINGS ♡

to all my dolls, who like, reblog && comment, i love all of you so so much. it’s so much fun to see people enjoying the simplest ideas that come from my head when i’m stuck in a day dream or a simple shower thought. writing has always been a form of comfort to me and i’ve been doing it since i was 13. im so grateful for every follow i get.

this year has taught me a lot. there was great things & there were not so great things. let’s try to remember that im human, im not perfect. i’m bound to make mistakes and that’s okay. ill learn (although many don’t believe so) i do believe i learn.

from jwsdoll, to wonsdoll, to ourhees… i’ve learned a lot. i hope 2025 can be my year. where i continue to be active and strive for 1k ! (which we’re not far from 🥳)

to my og’s @elysianiki @flwrstqr @cupidhoons @/nae. thank you guys for being my rock. although our gc is kinda dead?? my love for you will never. we’ve been through what felt like hell and back. but we still stayed close. even now, we’re still close and i will forever love you guys

to my guppiez, @elysianiki @kairoot @mygnolia @bnkiz @cupidhoons @/eli thank you guys for being there when i needed it. i know we’ve also had our rough patches, but we stuck through and that’s why we have such a close connection. i love all of you girls and youll always be like sisters to me. let’s continue to grow our bond even stronger, as the year goes on. thank you for being a safe place.

to my mooties i’ve been getting closer with as the days progress thank you for being amazing moots and making the efforts to grow close 💗 jenni (@tzyunaes), i love you so much for always reaching out to me when things aren’t going right, i’ll always show you i love you in every way i can. kaia(@pshbites) , thank you for being there to reassure me about what life has ahead && thank you for keeping me motivated. #saia4lyfe ! & to my nana (@pshwrldd) , i miss you so much !! i hope you come back soon my beloved. happy late new years and i hope this year treats you the way it should ! & lastly to my ari, (@yvnempire) im so glad we’re friends, you’re genuinely one of the nicest people i’ve ever met. everytime we talk it’s like we never stopped talking and you’ve gotta be one of my favorite people on this app. forever and always the jake to my jungwon 🤍

lastly to the moots i hope to get closer to, @okwonyo @senascoop @bywonyo @bywons @hhmnya @heeaara @miumura @coqhee @gyuuberryy @geutori @wonryllis @orimuraa @/sae (i can’t find ur @ baby) @yuvany (and others, i can’t think of anyone else from the top of my head) i hope we can interact every here and there 😽 im a bit of a shy person nowadays .. so it is hard for me to interact (without my hands shaking) but i hope we can grow closer, all of you are so talented and im so grateful to be your moot🫂 happy new years guys !!

[xoxochb]

yooooo happy 300 followers!!!! I’m so glad we’re moots <3

Anyways I’m requesting I LOVE YOU, I HOPE THAT YOU’RE OKAY with Leo Valdez and Lay All Your Love On Me by ABBA if that’s cool, and if you haven’t ever written anything with that song before

ok, have a nice day!

⋆·˚ ༘ * don't go sharing your devotion, lay all your love on me!!

warnings: idk how to feel about the ending but that’s it

pairing: leo valdez x daughter of poseidon

leo wasn’t one to get jealous, he was never like this before, but once you started dating things had been different. every time you tried to even speak to another man leo would classify as ‘attractive’ he would come over and wrap an arm around your waist or maybe a kiss to your lips if he was feeling confident enough

he supposes he feels this way because he’s insecure about himself. how could he get a girl as beautiful as you to be with him? he asks himself everyday what you saw in him, what made you want to stay with him. you assured him everyday that you loved him and he was the only boy you wanted to be with and even though you’re always reminding him of this he still can’t come to his senses that you actually, genuinely like him

today was one of those occasions where you had been talking with another boy, some aphrodite kid you didn’t know the name of. he was talking absolute nonsense, it started off as compliments then went on to asking you your favorite flowers, then onto many subjects that were awfully flirtatious. you wish leo would have been here, but he left when the boy pulled you away so now you’re stuck with an idiot who doesn’t get the hint you don’t like him

when you finally found an excuse to leave you hurried to find your lover. you searched his usual spots and when you couldn’t find him there you got worried. you feel as though you searched the whole camp at this point the only place you can think of is the beach, so that’s where you go. with your luck that’s where you find him

of course it’s the last spot you look

you sit beside him on the sand “hey”

“hey” he mumbles

you frown. he never greets you like this, it’s always a bone-crushing hug or a kiss with an ‘I missed you’ no matter how long you had been apart. but now he sits with a saddened demeanor, playing with the grains of sand, even refusing eye contact. perhaps you had done something without knowing it

“did I do something wrong?” you ask

there’s silence for a moment before he speaks “it’s me”

your heart breaks for him. why must he always blame himself for everything? “what do you mean?”

“why do you like me?”

poor boy. you want to take all his sadness and self doubt and throw it into the deepest depths of the universe, places nobody coil reach

“oh leo” you take his hand in both of yours, holding them delicately “if I gave you every reason we would be here for eternity”

he cracks a smile. there’s your leo

you continue speaking, “I love you because you are the sweetest boy ever. you always make beautiful things for me, you put yourself first always, you make sure that my needs are fulfilled before yours, you worry when I haven’t eaten, you take care of me when I’m sick, you build fires to keep me warm, you comfort me when I’m sad and calm me when I’m angry. you always try your hardest to make me laugh regardless the situation, you always make sure I’m happy. and not to mention that you’re an amazing kisser and incredibly sexy. but anyways what I’m trying to say is that no other boy would treat me as good as you do and I swear on the river styx I would never even think of being with anyone else but you”

he looks at you with adoration “really?”

“really” you confirm

you slip your shorts off, revealing bikini bottoms “now c’mon fire boy, lay all your love on me”

oh he surely would if you asked like that

[beetheyapper]

MUSIC I THINK THE POETS WOULD ENJOY

this is not time period accurate but i do not care. i at least tried to keep it pre-2000s. also i’m 100% projecting my music taste onto them. deal with it? spotify playlists, each of which has around 30 songs, are linked below each description ! i spent forever on this 😭

Charlie Dalton

i’m not sure that i could pinpoint very many artists he’d particularly like, but this is a classic rock boy right here. he’d be into ac/dc, motley crue, led zeppelin, etc. perhaps a bit of duran duran (this is where i’m projecting the most.) songs about s3x and women, and songs that make him feel like the rebel he is. (this playlist has been gale hansen approved on twitter btw)

Neil Perry

oh i just know this kid would be into some funk and pop, especially 80s and perhaps even new wave (i’m again projecting). now THIS is a duran duran fan (specifically their early stuff), which is unsurprising since the lead singer has a drama degree. he’d also probably like fleetwood mac, and would be well-versed in the band’s drama. duran duran, wham!, fleetwood mac, abba, maybe even some hall & oates. songs with complex lyrics and also songs that make him wanna dance. lots of upbeat stuff because though he has things that bother him, he’d rather do anything but dwell on them.

Todd Anderson

honestly, considering they’re roommates, i feel like neil would’ve had a bit of an impact on todd’s music taste, so there’s some band influence there—but regardless, i think todd would be into more mellow and emotional songs. jeff buckley comes to mind, along with the eagles, the beatles and maybe a splash of the smiths also pls pretend now and then didn’t come out last year. he would also be letting it linger i fear

Knox Overstreet

knox would be similar to Charlie, as they probably bond over shared music taste just as much as everything else. very heavy on the classic rock, but a lean more towards songs about needing someone and love songs as he pines for Chris. Tom Petty, Robert Palmer, The Cars, and a bunch of songs introduced to him by Charlie. He sticks more to genre/theme than to a specific artist methinks

Richard Cameron

contrary to what some may think, i think Cameron would absolutely groove to some rock n roll. HOWEVER. he is a 60s-70s rock n roll elitist. he thinks Billy Idol’s cover of Mony Mony is a disgrace. he wholeheartedly believes the Beatles are the best band to have ever graced the planet. The Beatles, The Beach Boys. The Rolling Stones, etc. Maybe even some Simon & Garfunkel. Him and Charlie argue a lot about which decades were the best years of rock music

Gerard Pitts

free my boy. he just wants to dance he ain’t do nothing wrong. his music taste has definitely been influenced by some of the other poets, in the sense that if he hears a song with a funky beat that makes him want to dance, it’s added to his mixtape IMMEDIATELY. for this reason, i’m thinking lots of funk and groove. play that funky music white boy! Bee Gees, ABBA, Talking Heads, Pet Shop Boys, etc. as long as he can dance to it he could care less who it’s by

Steven Meeks

another old rock, but more on the calm side with some hints of folk and fun. Donovan, The Beatles (paul is his fav for sure), The Beach Boys, and he definitely loves every white person anthem, including Sweet Caroline. he likes to groove with Pitts but also like soothing music to study to !!! i had to consult my friend on this one i fear i was drawing a blank

AND THAT is my opinion on each of the poets’ music taste. did i squeeze Duran Duran into almost all of them? perhaps. they’re my fav band let me live… feel free to listen to the playlists (please listen to them. pls i don’t want to have made them in vain.) and maybe even become spotify moots with me :D

[cheerysmores]

You will come back

Pairing: Lavellen (Brinni) x Cullen Rutherford

Rating: E

Word count: 2.3K

AO3 link

A birthday gift for my lovely moot @weaveandwood featuring her inquisitor Brinni! (Thanks for lending me a screenshot)

***

“Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker’s light and nothing He has wrought shall be lost.”

The prayer comes to Cullen as easily as breathing. He repeats it, watching another candle in front of Andraste’s statue burn down to nothing. It scarcely matters. So many now crowd her that the air in this small room shudders with the heat. A few weeks back, some well meaning soul had decided to light one here for each person lost to their cause. He tries not to think about how many more they’ll need when he gives their next order, if any amount of gold and wax could make up for what Corpypheus’ forces might do to their own.

Or if there was anything under the Maker’s sky that could make up for what Corypheus might do to the one person that can stop him.

Cullen adjusts his knees, trying to focus on the words. Once they were a taught ritual, something to soften the losses that so often came with Templar life. They’d spilled from his lips without thinking as he watched Haven burn, then disappear completely in a roar of snow and lyrium-red magic. After that, he didn’t think he’d have anything left to lose. It’s both wonderful and cruel how wrong he turned out to be.

“A prayer for you?” Brinni’s voice calls softly behind him.

He smiles as he turns. She’s leaning in the doorway, skin flushed from the cold and her boots still damp from wherever she’s been hiking. He can picture her wandering the perimeter of the castle, green eyes bright as she meticulously scours the snow for animal tracks. Even with so many of their guests remarking how the Inquisitor need not do such a thing, he knows she needs the time. Walls of any size can still feel like a cage.

“It is,” he answers, rising to his feet. “One for those we have lost. And those I am afraid to lose.”

“Do you really think talking to the Maker will help?”

Cullen closes the space between them, turning away from Andraste’s looming gaze. “I may have questioned it at times, but I have found comfort in faith when life offered little.” It’s a truth growing thinner by the day. Sometimes, he wants to believe as he did when he was a younger man, one still blinded by duty and ignorance. At least then his prayers felt like something real rather than leaves thrown to the wind.

He brushes the side of her face, stopping at the gentle point of her ear. “Corypheus will retaliate, it’s only a matter of time. And then you will be thrown into his path again.” His fingers tense. “Andraste preserve me, I must send you to him.”

“Send me or not, I’m going either way. Besides, I have luck on my side, remember?” His gifted coin suddenly appears between her fingers. She throws it in the air, catching it without looking.

He chuckles at her smirk. “That’s… less comforting than I’d hoped.”

“Hey, I’m trying here.”

He pulls her into his arms, inhaling the smell of snow and earth from her soft white hair. It’s a familiar scent now, the same one that clings to his pillow on the nights she can steal away to his bed. He winds a lock around his finger and draws it closer. It’s not enough. He wants to know what it smells like damp from summer rain, warm from an inn’s hearth, somewhere far away from titles and monsters and those damn rips in the sky.

“Whatever happens you will come back,” he whispers.

“Cullen, you don’t have to–”

He brushes her bottom lip. “Please, allow me this. To believe anything else would… I can’t.”

She nods against his shoulder but says nothing more. He watches her in his arms, making a memory of the way the candles flicker in her eyes. It’s not his favourite view of her, that belongs to the moments she’s resting above him, pink and smiling and lit like the divine by the sunlight spilling through the hole above his bed.

No candle could represent that. No candle will ever need to.

She leans up to murmur against his ear. “Will you come to my chambers tonight?”

He chuckles again, twisting to kiss her forehead. “The day I say no to that question is the day I’ve been kicked in the head by one of the Inquisition’s horses.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.”

His mouth follows the pale branches of her vallaslin until it rests against her lips. There’s one prayer still warm on his tongue as she kisses back, one he’ll repeat every moment he can until his devotion might will it into existence.

Maker, please. Don’t take her before me.

***

Tonight, he wants to be slow. There are precious few moments left before she has to depart and he’d very much like to spend them savouring every sweet curve and breath and kiss that he can. That all goes out the window the moment he reaches Brinni’s room.

He’s barely away from the stairs before she’s leaping from her bed and pressing her lips to his. She swallows his surprised gasp, hooking her hands into his cloak and manoeuvring them both across the floor.

“Vhenan.”

The word is poetry even as she mumbles it against his mouth. He grasps her waist, trying to gentle the bite of her passion but she doesn’t slow. Her hands are already everywhere, scrabbling at his breastplate, his gloves, the fur of his mantle. Nothing comes loose. She punctuates her frustration between kisses. “Why. Come. In. All. This.”

“Appearances,” he breathes as she finally moves her head, eyes hunter-focussed on the ties of his armour. His answer tastes of a lie, but the truth is something he’ll keep to himself a while longer. He likes watching her take it off.

The first time she’d been gentle, reverent even. He’d let himself get lost in the meadow of her eyes as she removed the pieces, softly touching each stretch of new skin until he was burning for her. The times after depended on how much of her patience had been worn down by the day’s work. After one particularly painful dinner with a gaggle of Orlesian nobles she’d come to his room, cut all the ties with a dagger and laid down on his desk before he’d even had time to ask. The armourer had been tactful enough not to comment the next morning but his eyes kept flicking to and from Cullen’s neck like he was scared to look at it. He didn’t realise why until he went to shave and saw a rosy bruise in the shape of Brinni’s mouth blooming well above his collar.

He presses her face into the same spot now, silently begging her to give him another. He doesn’t care if people whisper, he wants it to stay there, dark and throbbing, until she’s fought, won and returned.

Piece by piece the steel of the Commander clatters around them. A satisfied hum rumbles through her and into him when he’s finally stripped down to his undershirt. He pushes them both onto her bed, her hair fanning out like a tangle of moonlight as she lands. He takes a moment, just one, to trace the plump curve of her mouth. He feels her breath against his thumb, a warm reminder that she’s alive, safe.

Her face softens slightly and she touches the scar on his lip. “I’m right here,” she whispers, guiding his hand to the tie of her robe. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

He tugs it open, swallowing when he finds her completely naked underneath. She frees herself from the rest of the fabric, the flush of her cheeks spilling over her breasts as she lays back down. A dozen times he’s stripped her bare and a dozen times the sight has made him feel like some fumbling maid. He kisses her ear, lightly brushing his knuckle over the white curls of hair between her legs until she sighs and shivers under him.

She arches her back when his lips find her nipple. He licks the rosy peak, his arm soft around her back to pull her closer. Her nails rake through his hair as he moves to the other. He kisses, sucks, rubs with the roughness of his unshaven shadow until her chest heaves, red and wanting.

Some mixture of elven and his name spills from her lips like a song. He only catches a few of the words. His grasp of her language may falter between her legs but the sound of her want is something he couldn’t forget even if he tried.

He brushes her throat, feels the bob of her moan as his knee presses against her heat. Maker she’s already so wet. His fingers slip across the sheets, scrambling for purchase. He pauses when they brush something sharp under her pillow.

“Brinni, is that a knife?” He pulls it free and stares at the blade now clasped between his hands. It’s little, but he’d seen her take down bigger men than him with much smaller blades.

She laughs as she takes it from him. “Ah I forgot to move it this time. Call me paranoid but you can never be too careful.”

“You must know I’d never let anyone get anywhere close enough.”

She kisses his forehead. “I know. It just… it makes me feel better. I did it back home, back with my clan. I never wanted to be caught short.”

Her eyes are soft, the same way they always are when she speaks of her Clan. He knows she dreams of returning. She’d whispered it between his shoulder blades more than once in the long shadows before dawn. She’d said nothing when he’d asked if she’d want to stay with them, if that’s where she saw her home after all this. After she’d left, he’d thought about what home might look like for him when the war finally ends. A ceiling without holes, a bed she doesn’t have to sneak out of at the rooster's first crow, perhaps a lake– his imagination always falters after that.

He puts his hand over hers. “I think you will be fine for one night.”

She nods and throws it with practised grace into a wooden board on the other side of her room. She smiles at his impressed hum and crawls into his lap.

“Now, where were we,” she murmurs, sliding her hands into his trousers.

It’s a while before coherent words are heard between the walls of the Inquisitor's chambers again.

Their lovemaking is a slick, desperate blur. She arches under him with each messy thrust, her fingernails digging crescents into his back. He runs through the chant of light over and over in his head, desperate not to tip over, to make this last as long as his body will let him.

He slips his hand between them, seeking the swollen pearl of her clit. She cries out louder as he rubs her, the sounds running off the walls like rain. Her window is open behind them. Anyone wandering close enough on the ramparts could hear. The thought stirs something hotter in him, possessive, almost ugly. Perhaps the modesty of Templar life had made him greedy, owning nothing beyond what the Circle gave him, not even his body��� that was used then broken trying to defend something he isn’t even sure he believes in now. In these sweet moments, he’s free, loved, anyone he wants to be.

And he wants to be hers.

She finishes with another gasp of his name. Her thighs clamp around his waist as he follows, holding him there like she never wants him to let go. He runs his hand down the firm muscle of her leg.

He won’t. Not ever. Not if she asks him to.

They’re quiet after. It’s an easy silence, a moment to take comfort amongst the smells of sweat and sex. She lies on her front, eyes closed while he slowly brushes her arm. He stops at the blackened tip of her finger, wondering if she’d stained it while writing. She’s always voracious in her mission reports, but it’s the ones she writes just for him that has him jumping out of his seat each time he sees a raven. Words of love, of lust, elven pet names written in her flowing script so he can almost feel her next to him when he reads them.

He strokes the back of her hand.

The thought of losing her, having nothing left but parchment and ink in his desk—

He shakes his head.

No. Not now. Not tonight.

She opens her eyes as he pushes a few messy white strands from her face. “What is it, vhenan?”

He picks up her hand and softly kisses each finger. “You’re going to come back.”

He’s seen what she can do on the training ground and the battlefield. She’s fast with her blades, almost invisible on the wind. It’s enough. It has to be.

She shuffles forward, lightly running her hand through his curls. “Is that an order, Commander?”

“No, but as one of your advisors I strongly suggest it.”

She laughs, sweet as a lovebird's trill. “If you say so. And it’s probably a good thing we are not departing for a few days. After that I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk straight.”

He winds his arms around her. “I love you.” He wants to say it a thousand times more, whisper away any doubt, any fear she has. If he cannot be with her there, then he’ll be her strength here. And then when they finally leave this all behind they can shed the weight of these blasted titles. No more Inquisitor and Commander. Just Brinni and Cullen.

His heart swells. That’s what home sounds like.

She buries her face into the breadth of his chest, kissing directly over the thrum of his heart. “And I love you too. Always.”

[robo-milky]

“Hey, Carrots!

No need to look so offended, I’m not here to cause any trouble, you know~. No favors to ask of either. It’s your special day, isn’t it? It is! So I came by to give you a present.

…Yeah, okay, it’s not really much, but it’s a gift nonetheless. Coupon for a special pop for the birthday girl~. You have a favorite flavor or something? I’ll try making it into a pop for you. A dozen for free! I’m real kind, I know.

Oh, and before I forgot. You know Ashi, don’t you? Poor girl couldn’t make it today, so she asked me to hand you a gift bag in her stead. Proves my trustworthiness, doesn’t it? Heh.

No need to worry, I didn’t peek at it… Hold some higher standards for me, would you?”

Niko hands over the bag. It’s a cute, pink, petite bag with cat decorations on it. It holds some resemblance to the feline holding it herself.

Grabbing what’s inside, there’s a little drawing with a note attached. It’s written with words and symbols that seem impossible to verbalize, but somehow it’s easy to imagine a certain brunette bringing life to them…

Clochey! HBD fam!~ Super bummed I couldn’t make it, but I hope this prezzie has enough of my energy baked into it that it feels like I’m there! LMK ASAP ☆

I wanted to send you a cute lil’ message ‘cuz I’m real thankful for us being friends, YK? Even tho we aren’t super buddy buddy, I still totally enjoy your company. Eppy tells me enough about you that it basically feels like I’m hanging with you myself!

Anyway~ I wanted to gift smth more personalized for you, so I drew up a little drawing! It’s kinda like a postcard, but I tried putting one of your fave things on it ♡ I hope you enjoy!~

We should SO get talkin’ again soonsies! Wishin you a happy birthday and many more with a certain huntsman <3

Sincerely, Ashi ♪

Cloche hears a chuckle after she’s done reading the note.

“Wow, Carrots, your face is a little red… Wonder what Ashi stirred up for you to get you, the cold clawed kitty to get lookin’ like that. Well, privacy is privacy. Guess that’s my cue to leave.

Here’s hoping you catch a break from all the trouble around campus, hm? Enjoy your day~.”

HAPPY BDAY CHRIS!!!!!!! I HOPE YOUR DAY AND WEEK AND TBH MONTH IS SO BANGER. ITS SO DESERVED!!!!!!! 🫶 it’s been SO nice being your moot for like?? WHAT??? TWO YEARS OR SMTH??? TIME IS SO CRAZY. it’s been such a treat being able to interact n talk w you since the beginning!!! I GET SUPER HAPPY WHENEVER I SEE YOU IN MY NOTIFS <333 HBD again and I hope life treats you well!!!!! 🙏 blessing your pulls and turning them into pomepulls……….. tehepero

[Cloche’ Birthday Bash] *them referring to our dear freshmen

Okay first of all… ASHIIIIIII YOU’RE GONNA KILL ME I SWEAR !!! THE FACT THAT YOU SENT THIS SO EARLY??!?! THE INTERACTION IS EVERYTHING! I JUST LOVE HOW THIS PLAYS OUT SO NATURALLY- Fr, Niko just waltzing into Ramshackle then dipping- aND THE GORGEOUS GORGEOUS ROOKLOCHE ART- LITERALLY SCREAMING OVER THE POSE AND DETAILS- YOU SERIOUSLY OUT DID YOURSELF FOR THIS ONE! Rook carrying her and Cloche grabbing on to him to get closer- SAVANACLAW ROOK MY BELOVED- Muscle man frrrr- Ashi really caught on to the cat maid’s staring during Chapter 7 huh. AND THE DOODLES ON RHE SIDES ARE TOO CUTE- 😩

Epel yapping on about Cloche and totally not suspiciously asking Ashi about her roommate- Ashi internally sweating bullets when Epel doesn’t realize that everything he describes is the cat maid making up excuses to avoid him-

Also take this… Cloche walking up to Niko days later and asking for a bone marrow pop, and it takes Niko a few seconds to realize it was a joke 😭😭 Slow burn friendship trust-

Really, it’s so wild that it’s been 2 years- So glad to have you here and to celebrate with you again !! I think you really blessed my pome pulls with this one- seriously- man came on the 30th pull twice- Ilyyyyy If makes me super happy to see you in my notifs as well and may we continue to interact in the future!

[thehomeofplatonicfics]

Wish That You Were Here

Peculiar!reader x Emma Bloom (platonic!) - Inspired by 'Wish That You Were Here by Florence and the Machine

“Y/N? Y/N, are you even listening to me?” Emma’s voice breaks through your thoughts like a knife and you jump in your seat to attention, shaking your head slightly. “I didn’t catch that, sorry.” You mumble sheepishly, gazing back out into the distance, looking towards the sea once more.

It was one of the things you had appreciated the most when you had first arrived into the Cairnholm loop, you hadn’t always been so lucky. Being a peculiar that most normies would liken to a siren, it was quite a pickle if you didn’t have a body of water to ‘haunt’. It had made life in the middle of London quite challenging at times.

When that loop was destroyed, you were placed here, in Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children… but you then had to leave someone behind. Someone special.

“You’re doing it again.” Emma warned you, the look on her face is equal parts concern and amusement. “Sorry… the sea is drawing me in strongly today.”

“Do you want to head down there? We’re past the reset, so it’ll be safe.” Emma offers, gesturing to the path. “Are you sure you can handle it?” You ask, knowing that if you let out your song, buried in you, that you could control her to do almost anything.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep a safe distance from you. Just means we may have to shout.” Emma smirks. You nod in agreement, and walk down with her silence. You became lost in your thoughts again, thinking of your dear friend. Where were they now? What year, what loop? Were they even still alive?

Your siren’s call slips out before you even realise it as you take one step into the water. True to her word, Emma remains somewhat further back up the beach and luckily seems unaffected. “So, what is this about?” Emma shouts to you, knowing that you weren’t usually so affected by your peculiarity.

“Her. Again.” You call back in a floaty, sing-song voice. “She’s... always on my mind. I wish she was here. Every second, every hour.” Saying every day seemed moot, considering it was always the same day in September.

Emma hummed back in understanding. “I know how you feel. I think of Abe every day too.” You pause your song, surprised to hear Emma talk of him. She rarely brought him up, and you considered it an honour that she felt comfortable enough to do so with you.

“Do you ever feel like missing him becomes so burdening? Like a feeling that just sits on your chest, weighing you down, making it hard to catch your breath?” You ask Emma, your voice still singing a haunting call.

“…Often.” Emma shouts back, taking one step further away from you to ensure she didn’t become trapped by your song.

“I don’t even know if she is safe. Sometimes, I wonder if she thinks of me as often as I think of her.”

“I bet she does.” Emma replies, hoping in her heart that Abe thought of her often too.

“Some days, the image of her seems so very far.” My siren’s song starts to die down, as I turn towards her. A tear slips down my cheek. “I don’t even have a photo of her. I worry that one day, I’ll forget what she looks like. That all I’ll have left is the idea of her in my mind.”

Emma remains quiet for a while, feeling almost guilty that she at least had many remainders of Abe to fall back on. “Why don’t you paint a picture of her? I’m sure the bird will have supplies.” Emma suggested tentatively, praying you responded favourably to it.

You stepped out of the water, looking back out to sea. “Yes… I think I shall ask her.” You walked back up the beach, looping your arm into her’s as you returned the house. “Thank you, Emma.” You say softly as you step back into the safety of the house. “I won’t let her be forgotten.”

[abyslita]

happy new year cuties !! i wanted to start this year off with some positivity ,,, especially since i’ve never done one of these posts before because i’ve been too scared um..i hope everyone has a good new year !! this is just appreciation for my moots, but there’s something for everyone at the end 🥹 i’m so sorry if there’s any typos.. im sick and shaky :,) apologies in advance !! happy times..

@frilliette (kuni !!) — RAHHH one of my biggest inspirations by far :,) i got into editing because of you tbh, i’ve always thought your work was so pretty !! i genuinely don’t know how you do it, you never fail to impress me when you post your designs 🥹 and you’re super sweet too !! i always see you in servers but i get too scared to say hi ,, even though we’ve talked before 😭 you’re one of (if not) my favorite editor(s), especially since you don’t get discouraged when it comes to rude anons or anyone who decides to degrade your work .., thank you for being my . friend, i think? I CONSIDER YOU A FRIEND 😭❤️ i hope you have a beautiful 2025 kuni :3 my dms are always open if you wanna talk or need help with anything !! im so so proud of you for making it through another year even with all your hardships that you may not tell anyone about ^_^ you’re a strong, kindhearted, talented person ! never ever forget that :3 ILYSM !! /p

@selysie (cherie :3) — HII CHERIE !! omg you have been such an inspiration to me ever since i knew you had a tumblr, and once i realized you followed me i felt so honored 🥹 /gen AND YOU USED MY STUFF EEEEKKK !!! you’re one of my favorite editors, i love seeing your work on my feed every time im on it just scrolling for inspo 😞 your style is so beautiful and your dividers are what inspired me to start making mine actually :,) i dunno how you do it .. please don’t ever stop being who you are !! your editing is an inspiration to so many people and i don’t think i’d be where i am today without your inspo :3 i’m proud of you for making it through 2024 and becoming who you are, it’s never easy to do, but you’ve accomplished it again and im so proud of you ! /gen much love and hugs :3 /p

@hrlyqueen (KYLIEEE!) — HI KYYY OH MY GOSHHH MY BESTFRIEND 🥹 ILYSM /p you have been so supportive all this time i’ve been editing and i can’t be more grateful, even when my work wasn’t the best you always encouraged me to make more and improve and that’s something i couldn’t ever repay you for .. you’ve always been there for me no matter what, and you’re definitely one of the people i’d like to keep in my life for as long as i can :,) i’ll always be here for you ky! you’ve done such a good job this year and im so glad i get to be your friend through another one <3 i’m proud of you and all your achievements, ilysm and i hope you have a sweet new years and everything goes smoothly in 2025 !! ♡

@dwollies (koko :3) — !!! HII KOKO !! we may not have interacted much this year but i’m so happy to have you as my moot !! your editing style never fails to impress me, i actually used one of your layouts as motivation to retheme :,) you’re super kind and i tend to . uhh i guess,, moveee??.. towards your page when looking for inspo, especially because of your style :,) AHGSJDHM ITS SO PRETTYY i think if i ate it it would taste like… plums .. :3 im so proud of you for making it through 2024! i wish you a very happy 2025, much love and hugs !! /p

@ibandage (caprisun…) — HI KAPRI.. hah caprisun get it i’m sorry. anyways.. HAIAII KAPRIII NY SECSOND BESTFRIEND please change your name on discord. i’m tired of seeing penis on my SCREEN SDPTP /j but on a serious note thank you for being here for me :,) even though we only met what like. a few weeks ago, you’ve quickly become one of my best friends and i feel very comfortable around you! i get to be myself, knowing you won’t judge me and that’s something i’ll always be grateful for<3 ENOUGN WOTH THE PENIS THOUFH. ILY !!! /p im so proud of everything you’ve done this year, and who you’ve become :3 i’m looking forward to spending another year with you and seeing you grow even more !!

@bandagewastern (anthony!!) — HII ANTHONY !! it’s been a bit since we’ve talked and i miss you 🥹 though we don’t interact much, you were one of my first 100 followers i believe, and now im nearing 500!!! thank you soso much for being apart of this (that sounds a little cringey but.. oh well!) i can’t thank you enough, you’ve been here since i was just starting out editing :,) your style is so beautiful , i love seeing your posts on my feed whether it’s your art or just you talking !! my dms are always open if you ever decide you wanna talk more / you just need help with something :3 you’re so strong for making it through another year despite the challenges you may have faced, and i’m proud of you <3 happy new year anthony!

@ubelaces (ube ^^) — HII UBE OMG !! you were another big inspiration of mine when i just started out editing.. your style is so pretty i don’t know WHERE you got it from.. eats it and steals your style /j ITS SO PRETTYYY EVERYTHING YOU’VE MADE IS GORGEOUS 🥹 i’ve always looked up to you as an editor, and im so glad we’re moots even though your work is sm better than mine .. :,) NOT IN LIKE A NEGATIVE WAY.. i love it sm i keep saying that but its gorgeous i could cry i think it’d taste like blueberry muffins .. /pos . if you ever need anyone to talk to my dms are open ! i hope you have a wonderful 2025 and im so so proud of you for making it through another year, despite facing challenges and setbacks <3 ILY !!! /p

@lucentmaiden (essi !) — HAIAI ESSI !! i see your work on pinterest and ouh my days.. it’s so gorgeous 🥹 i’ve always wanted to have a similar style to yours, however i feel like for me it’s too hard to achieve so i applaud you for making such gorgeous pieces in that style !! before i followed you on tumblr i always went to your pinterest page when i was feeling low on inspiration just because you’ve always been a person to help me get that motivation back, even if our styles are completely different !! im sorry if this makes it awkward considering we’ve never interacted before, but im so glad you’re my moot and im so proud of you for making it through 2024 <3 i hope you have a happy new year and have a beautiful 2025!

well that was a lot.. again i’m so so sorry for the typos i’ve been so sick and i can’t get my hands to stop shaking :,) now onto everyone else , (even if you’re not tagged in this, i love and adore you sm /p /gen)

happy new years !! i’m so proud of you for making it through another year and being strong enough to celebrate with me and other people. you’ve done your best this year, and i’m so proud of you for doing so. it’s not easy to get up everyday, and even if you didn’t, even if you couldn’t muster the strength to get up, i’m still proud of you- because you made it through the year. you lived through 365 days of challenges and uncertainty, that’s something to be proud of ! i wish i could be there to celebrate your accomplishments, however, we may not know eachother .. happy new year <3 i love you all sm !! my dms are always open if you need new friends or just wanna talk for a bit. ♡

[moochachoco]

More mystreet posting .. moots i fear i’m reverting to my old 2017 Aphmau fan account ways plz forgive me………

Anyways .. Ik that Garroth was canonically aware of his charm and was known to be very charismatic + outgoing, but idk!! I think it’d be cute if during his middle school + first few years of high school, he was socially awkward kinda like his MCD counterpart 😭 Like that’s one of the only traits that carried over from his MCD self

I also like to think that Katelyn (since they were friends in PDH iirc) and Laurance kinda helped him get out of his shell and become more confident !

Imagining freshman Garroth feeling super flustered from all the attention he was getting from other people at his school, all while Katelyn and Laurance are watching and giggling & then tease him about it later 💀💀

I don’t think he’d be like.. PDH Travis and Aphmau kind of shy, though. They were the type of shy where they stuttered pretty often and kinda like tripped over their words, or they would mumble, but I don’t see Garroth ever being like that. I think it’s just like… he’s a little awkward? He knows how to speak to people a little bit, I just imagine he’d get a little nervous when carrying on a conversation and then kinda shy away after a while & that he doesn’t really know how handle A LOT of positive attention from a lot of people around his age OR people older than him

Literally it’s like :

The girls at school compliment his appearance and his voice -> Garroth: “Haha (awkward)… Thank you… (the attention makes his palms sweaty + the attention is making him uncomfortable, so he tries to leave)”

Teachers compliment him in front of all his classmates -> Garroth: “Thanks… (awkward + uncomfortable w/ the attention from both his teacher and his peers, so he just looks down at his textbook until he thinks it’s okay to look back up again)”

Then imagining Laurance helping him become less shy.. helping him talk to people (girls, in particular) and learning how to make friends easier, giving him advice .., telling Garroth that he’s naturally charming and endearing, so people will like him a lot , saying that even he would fall for Garroth because he’s “pretty good looking” and “a really sweet guy”, And Garroth gets EXTREMELYYY flustered after hearing that .. (Avg. Garroth response: “Ah… Haha… Thank you, man. It – um… It means a lot. 🙂 (awkward smile that looks pained a little bit kinda)” -> Laurance response: “😭 You gotta get better at taking compliments, man!”

Omg … Katelyn also giving him advice, but she mainly helped by getting him on the baseball team ! She heard that he was interested and introduced him to the captain and the team members.. and she helps him talk to them, so he could make more friends !! I can imagine her sitting on the bleachers and watching Garroth fail at conversing and literally just being like “There is no way.” So, she has to step in and help him 💀

Also imagining in my head that Garroth goes home everyday and practices so he could impress Katelyn and Laurance. And then literally rehearsing what he’ll say to people a bunch of times in his head before he actually talks to them.

I think by the time he got to Senior year he mostly grew out of being shy, but sometimes he still has his moments 😭

And then, later when they’re all actually Living on Mystreet, when they’re all hanging out -> Katelyn is like: “Oh my Irene, do you remember how awkward Garroth was during, like, the first year or two of high school??” -> Laurance:“Oh wait! Yeah! Wow… who would’ve thought he would’ve turned out like this?” -> and all Garroth can do is laugh awkwardly while they reminisce and tease him abt it 💀💀💀💀

i have so many more garroth headcanons in my brain like omg .. the blond cube guy from the Minecraft roleplay I liked when I was like 12 is taking over my brain yet again……….

[freedomfireflies]

Hey lovey,

How are you doing? First and foremost, I’m so happy to have stumbled upon your blog—I absolutely adore your writing. You have such a beautiful ability to convey a story even in such a few words.

I know I’ve already requested a little something before, but in the event you do find time, and interest in my request, would you write something else for Chris?

Your latest blurb with Harry and Chris reminded me of a fic I read a while back about reader being Chris’ younger girlfriend and him being quite jealous and uncomfortable of her closeness to Harry Styles, given his age.

If you are comfortable, I’d love to see your take on Chris and a younger reader, who’s in her twenties. I don’t really have a premise in mind, but I feel given his history with anxiety and desire to settle down he’d be second guessing his decision to be with someone younger and maybe even feel insecure.

Thanks, sweetheart. 🤍

You are so sweet, thank you so much for reading and requesting 😭💞

“Right, which is exactly what I told him…before I realized he wasn’t even listening.”

“Oh, he never is, no. Unless you’re talking about statistical reports or the number of shares involved, he won’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

“See, that would have been good advice before I wasted half an hour of my life trying to explain why Jack and Rose both being able to fit on the door was a moot point.”

Harry laughs as he crosses his arms and leans back against the wall. “Oh, well, now I’ve gotta hear this.”

Pleased to share, you clear you throat and sneak a glance at Chris. He’s heard this spiel a hundred times, and he smiles knowingly as he nods at you to continue. “Okay, well, obviously they both could have fit. Duh, that’s the first thing they try in the movie. But the second Jack climbs on top, it starts to sink, because it can’t support both their weight. Therefore, they both would have frozen to death, and Jack made the choice to die for her.”

Harry smirks, head shaking as he glances down at the floor. “Well…shit.”

“Exactly,” you agree. “I will die on this hill, it’s such a stupid argument. Because even if things had been different, Jack still would have chosen to die for her because that’s just who his character was. And, honestly? I think we can all agree that saving Leonardo Dicpario just…isn’t worth it anymore?”

He laughs again as Chris slips an arm around your hip and grins down at you.

“You…might have a point," Harry muses.

“Thank you,” you sigh, before you feel a familiar sort of tapping on your waist. You straighten up. “Anyway, thank you so much again for inviting us to your show. It was…so great to see you again, Har. Really. You’re doing so many amazing things. And I’m really proud of you.”

A lifetime of memories pass between you as Harry meets your eye and offers that understanding smile you’re so used to. 

“Anytime,” he says gently, throwing a grin to Chris as well. “Seriously, both of you are always welcome. Just let me know and I’ll make it happen.”

“We might just take you up on that,” you smirk before the tapping on your side increases. “Thank you again, and hey—good luck on your tour.”

“God, yeah, thanks,” he laughs as the rest of his team begins to fervently gesture him over. He winces. “I’m gonna need it.”

With that, he tosses you both a wave before the three of you part ways and disappear down different ends of the hall.

The drumming continues all the way down the corridor and even after you’ve rounded the corner.

It’s not until you find yourselves alone that you place your hand over Chris’s and give it a firm squeeze. “Okay, all right. What’s wrong?”

You slow to a stop, quickly turning to face him as you watch him sigh and look down at the floor. “Nothing. I’m fine, I’m just ready to go.”

But you know him. You know each nervous tic. You know he only taps your hip when he’s anxious. When he needs a reminder that you’re there.

“Chris…” you try again, fingers tangling in his shirt as you tug. “You promised.”

He looks at you, eyebrows weaving through the lace of guilt as he slips his hands around your wrists. “I know, but it’s nothing. Really—”

“Baby—”

“I…just…” He sighs yet again, one palm dragging down his beard. “Look, I know…I know he’s a part of your past. Okay, I know that. And I accept that, I just…I don’t know how to not…think about it.”

Your head tilts as you squeeze his shirt a bit harder between your hands. “Think about what?”

He goes quiet for a moment, eyes flicking between yours. “If you would have been…happier. With him.”

You lean back, almost as if struck by the very notion. “Why…baby, why would you say that?”

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and shakes his head, seemingly embarrassed. “I know. I know, I just…you guys have a lot of shared history, you know? And I know he’s closer to your age, can maybe give you things that I can’t. So, seeing you guys together, it just…reminds me that I’m not…that I can’t be your past the way he can. That he’ll always be a part of what led you to me…and I just…I fucking hate that.”

With a wounded heart, your eyes soften. “And what is it you think he can give me that you can’t?”

“I don’t know. A husband that you don’t have to push around in a wheelchair,” he huffs, and there’s a hint of teasing, but you know he’s not kidding. “And he’s probably got a little more stamina than I do these days. Can go more places, do more things. Be who you need him to be. And being with him would probably open a lot of doors.”

“Okay, well, I can open my own doors, thank you,” you playfully retort, and you’re rewarded with a gentle smirk. “I’m gonna be honest, it sounds like you think about him a hell of a lot more than I do.”

He snorts and glances off down the hall. “Funny.”

“I mean it.” Your fingers tug once more on his nice dress shirt. “I knew what I was signing up for when I agreed to go on that first date with you. I knew people would talk about our age difference, and I knew there would be things we’d have to work out. I knew. And I still said yes.”

He looks back.

“You know why?” you whisper, now reaching up to press your palm to his cheek. “Because adult diapers or not…I love you. I always will. You’re Captain fucking America, for pete’s sake! And obviously it’s not about how you look. It’s about who you are…but you better believe Harry was eating his fucking heart out when he saw who he lost to.”

He laughs. In that familiar, boyishly charming way you’re so obsessed with. “Wow, thanks. No, that was good. That was good. I’m cured.”

Your response is to reach up and press your lips into his. Firm but loving. Filled with every promise you might never be able to verbally make.

But every promise you plan to keep.

For a moment, he stills, seemingly taken aback by the sudden rush of intimacy. But, after a moment, his hands find a home on your waist, as they always do, and he seems to unwind.

And once you’re sure he’s begun to release some of his anguish, you pull back to see him. Really see him.

“Baby…and I need you to really hear me when I say this…you are the best goddamn thing that’s ever happened to me," you whisper, overcome with emotion.

He smiles, exhaling a gentle laugh as if amused with your effort but you’re far from done.

Your grip becomes a little harder. “I’m serious, okay? Things with Harry…were fine. They were fine. And yeah, maybe he’s a small part of what brought me to you, but you…Chris, you? You…are fucking everything.”

The smile slowly slips off his face at the earnest fervor in your voice.

“Every day when I wake up and see you in bed—in our bed—it reminds me that you weren’t just the right decision. Okay, you are the only decision. You are the only thing that makes sense for me. The only person that I need to be with. Fuck the past. The only future I want looks like you. It is you. You are all of it.”

And you’ve never meant anything more, and you can only hope that he feels exactly how much he means to you.

His expression softens as he releases a deep breath and slips his palm around the back of your neck to keep you close.

“I know that doesn’t fix it,” you tell him gently. “I know that. You think I like running into Minka Kelly and remembering your past? Fuck no. But there is nothing—and I mean this—that Harry could have given me. Nothing. I don’t even—I mean, I can’t even imagine what a future with him would have looked like. I don’t want to imagine.”

Your touch moves to his chest once again, fingers tapping over his heart. 

“When I see him, I don’t think about anything else but you,” you continue. “Honestly. I mean look at you. Come on. Harry doesn’t stand a fucking chance next to you. Not with that receding hairline of his and the complete lack of communicational skills. Seriously, you were such an upgrade for me, it’s not even funny—”

He dips down and kisses you again. Harder this time. As if to say everything he doesn’t know how to say aloud.

“I love you,” he whispers, nose nudging against yours. “I really, really love you.”

“I know,” you whisper back, smiling rather giddily. “And I mean it, Christopher Robert Jamal Evans. You are the best goddamn thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He groans playfully at the use of his full name but kisses you again anyway.

And you let him. Because kissing him feels like coming home. It feels like finally finding your place in the world. 

It just feels…right.

“Take me home,” you murmur the moment his tongue swipes at your bottom lip. “Take me home and make me your future.”

And who is he to say no?

His arm quickly loops around your lower back to tug you into his chest before he leaves you with one final reminder of who he is to you.

And you don’t imagine you’ll ever forget.

“Promise,” he says, smirking victoriously as his hand travels to your ass to give it a quick squeeze.

And you laugh before leading him out of the arena, hand and hand, the anxious tapping now nowhere to be found. 

And you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

~ Other Chris Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist