#Marriage Proposal

[ultravioletbrit]

“candle” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 338 words

 

Regulus just got home and he walks through the living room to the kitchen looking for James.

“James?” He calls when he doesn’t find him.

“Out back.” James answers. 

Regulus walks out the back door and his breath hitches and his eyes fill with tears when he sees James standing on their patio with his hands behind his back. He’s wearing a full suit and tie, there are twinkle light hanging above him and he’s surrounded by candles.

“James?” Regulus whispers, he doesn’t trust his voice to speak any louder.

“Hi, love.” James smiles. Regulus slowly walks over to him and he feels a tear roll down his cheek. James brings one hand out from behind his back to cup Regulus��� cheek and brush the tear away with his thumb. “No tears.” He says softly.

“Can’t help it.” Regulus’ voice cracks. He’s overwhelmed with emotions and he can’t help it when words start tumbling from his lips. “Because you… and you look… and the lights… and all the candles…”

“One candle for every year I’ve loved you.” James smiles and Regulus quickly scans the candles surrounding James.

“We’ve only been together 3 years. There are 7 candles?”

“Regulus, I have loved you since the day I met you. And if you’ll let me, I’ll love you every day for the rest of our lives and then some.” Regulus lets out a sob as James drops to one knee and brings his other hand out from behind his back holding a small box. James opens the box to reveal a silver ring, and Regulus drops to his knees along with James.

“Yes.” He says and leans in to kiss James.

“Regulus…” James pulls back slightly with the biggest grin.

“Yes!” Regulus wraps his arms around James’ neck bringing him back for another kiss.

“Reg… I had a whole speech written.” James says, chuckling against Regulus’ lips.

“Read it to me later. Yes!” Regulus says again and James takes his hand and slides the ring on his finger and pulls him in for more kisses.

[maybe-im-dark]

Before the adamantium procedure, when Logan still had his bone claws, they would sometimes break off in battle. The claws would regrow of course, but he kept the broken ones. And he would gift them to everyone he cared about, so they would have a piece of him even if he wasn't there.

So now imagine the TVA show up at Logans and Wades home, to give Logan some of his belongings from his old timeline. One of those is a mysterious bag. In the evening Logan tells Wade to close his eyes. He reaches into the bag and there is one last claw. He places it into Wades hand and tells him to open his eyes again.

"What is that, peanut?"

"One of my claws. From when they were still bone."

"Oh my god. Are you...proposing to me?"

"Uh...do you want me to propose?"

"Yes, Logan, the answer is yes! YES I WILL MARRY YOU!"

[jazzstarrlight]

Nuzi- The Proposal

A wholesome HFT* moment well deserved! (Meanwhile, it's past Lexi's bedtime.) Hope this makes you guys happy.

(*Happy Family Timeline)

[foxtrot91]

sweet like syrup

The batter sizzles as Tommy pours it into the pan, the scent of the pancake batter wafting up and filling Tommy’s senses. Evan is still sleeping in the bedroom, having arrived home late last night after his shift ran over. He’d showered at the station and had practically collapsed onto the bed next to Tommy, barely managing to grunt out a greeting before being pulled under into a deep sleep. From the messages he’d received throughout Evan’s shift, it had been a rough one.

Which is why Tommy is out here now, trying his hand at pancakes made from scratch. He takes a moment to mourn the loss of his store-bought pancake mix that he used to have before Evan had taken one look at it, shot Tommy a look of disgust and declared it sacrilege before tossing it in the trash. So now Tommy has to troll Google for pancake recipes and thank whatever god might exist that Evan has also taken to expanding the ingredients Tommy has on hand even if Tommy barely touches them himself.

The Canadian Pure Maple Syrup has been a wonderful addition, actually, – “Bobby has it shipped in from Montreal, so you know it’s legit.” – and while he wishes he had the convenience of a premade mix to go with it, he accepts the trade-off. He still hasn’t figured out the whole maple syrup grading colour system, however, but he’d enjoyed listening to Evan discuss the merits of each grade and their best uses in the kitchen.

If he’s completely honest, Tommy doesn’t notice much of a difference between the light or dark syrups and is halfway convinced that the Canadian government is involved in a conspiracy with the maple syrup companies to hoodwink Americans into spending more money for their pretentious, robust flavoured syrup. Jokes on them, Tommy decides, because he would’ve bought it regardless of some made-up grading system just for the way Evan lights up whenever Bobby brings over their portion of his latest order. Also, and he is mature enough to admit this– it’s a thousand times better than the thick, artificial table syrup he’d grown up with as a kid.

You win this one, Canada, he thinks, eyeing the can of syrup with the proud maple leaf emblazoned on the label.

He's nearing the end of the batter by the time he hears a faint shuffling coming from the direction of the bedroom. By the time Evan joins him in the kitchen, Tommy has turned off the stove and has moved to set the table with two plates, cutlery, butter – real butter, not the margarine Tommy used to carry which was another quick casualty once Evan had moved in – a stack of pancakes, and of course, the can of syrup.

“You made breakfast?” Evan says, barely suppressing his yawn long enough to get the question out. He’s sleep rumpled, wearing one of Tommy’s slightly too big sweaters and a pair of sweats that he’s yet to tie up, and Tommy knows that if the sweater weren’t hiding it from view, he’d get a delicious peek at the sliver of skin and trail of hair that leads into Evan’s pants.

Small mercies, he thinks, because if it weren’t for the bulk of the sweater, Tommy is certain they wouldn’t make it to breakfast, and he’s spent way too much time putting this together to not eat it with Evan.

“I did,” Tommy says, smiling as he pulls Evan into his arms and gives him a soft, lingering kiss before pulling back. “Thought I’d surprise you… are you surprised?”

“You hate cooking,” Evan says in lieu of an answer, smiling when he looks over at the table. “It smells amazing.”

Laughing, Tommy ushers Evan over to the table and pulls a chair out for him. “Hopefully it tastes just as good,” he says with a wink as Evan sits down.

Tommy takes the seat to his right and serves up the pancakes onto both of their plates. Once adequately buttered and drenched in syrup, they both dig in. They’re definitely not as good as Evan’s – he really should ask him for the recipe he uses – but they’re still good, if Tommy does say so himself. And by the look on Evan’s face, he’d say they’re at least good enough to pass his muster. They’re quiet as they eat, the sounds of their utensils clanging on their plates the only real noises filling the dining room. It’s a comfortable silence, and given Evan’s rough shift the previous night, Tommy imagines it’s a welcome one as well.

Once they finish, Tommy stands to gather their plates, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of Evan’s head before he turns to wash up. There’s a certain domesticity to this that Tommy has never felt in any of his previous relationships. Evan isn’t the first boyfriend he’s lived with, not by a longshot, but he’s the first who’s ever made the kind of effort for Tommy that he is. The first to speedrun a sexuality crisis for the sheer fact that it was Tommy he wanted to be with, the first to cook him meals outside of any special occasion just because, and the first to make room for Tommy in every aspect of his life, to seamlessly fit Tommy in amongst the people he values most without a second thought.

He’s the first to make Tommy want to match his effort.

When he finishes cleaning up, he turns back to see Evan staring at him over the back of his chair. His elbow is rested on the back with his chin perched on top and he’s gazing at Tommy in a way that has a warm prickle starting up in his chest.

“What?” Tommy asks as he wipes his hands on the towel hanging off the oven handle.

“Nothing, it’s just…” He trails off, but Tommy doesn’t try to interject. “Nobody’s ever made me breakfast before.”

That can’t be true.

“What about Bobby?”

“That-he doesn’t count,” Evan says, like it should be obvious. “I mean like… in a relationship.”

“Oh,” Tommy says, a little stunned at the thought. Evan has had many partners; surely at least one of them would’ve–

“Yeah,” he says, smiling as he stands from the chair to join Tommy where he’s standing near the counter. “Usually it’s me,” he waves a hand vaguely towards the counter before looking back to Tommy. “It was nice, being on the other side for once.”

“Well, you better get used to it,” Tommy says, “Because I’ve got Google at my fingertips and a whole host of new ingredients, kitchen appliances, and fancy pots and pans at my disposal.” Evan laughs, ducking his head at the reminder of how absolutely batshit insane he’d gone overhauling Tommy’s kitchen when he’d moved in. “I hope you’re prepared for a lot of terrible meals,” he adds, because cooking the kinds of meals Evan is capable of has never been in his wheelhouse. Pancakes are about as good as it gets. Evan giggles and shakes his head, shoving lightly at Tommy’s shoulder in response.

God, he thinks, I fucking loves this man.

“I love you,” Evan says, eyes bright.

I love you too. He thinks it; goes to say it in return as he takes in the bright blue of Evan’s eyes.

“I want to marry you,” is what comes out instead.

Evan’s eyes go wide as saucers and Tommy has a split second to think – fuck fuck fuck… before landing on, fuck it. – as Evan sputters in shock, “T-Tommy, you can’t mean-”

“There’s a ring in my sock drawer,” he says on a slightly panicked breath, “I had it all planned out for our trip next month.”

“Wait, what trip?”

“It was going to be a surprise, Bobby put the PTO in for you,” this was the one piece that Tommy had been somewhat anxious about, but Eddie had been adamant that Evan would be very much on board with Tommy’s surprise. “I’m flying us out to a private lodge a buddy of mine owns. Just you, me, and a whole lot of forest to hike through.”

“Fuck,” Evan says, eyes wide in disbelief and Tommy feels a curl of anxiety forming in the pit of his stomach. He can’t help worrying that he’s stepped wrong here, that maybe it’s too soon. Sure they’ve been together for nearly two years now but really, what’s two years in the grand scheme of things– “Yes.”

Tommy’s brain goes abruptly offline as he processes, “What?” he asks, like an idiot.

“Yes, I will marry you,” Evan is grinning, chest shaking with barely suppressed laughter as his arms loop around Tommy’s neck and tug him in for a bruising kiss.

Groaning as they pull away, Tommy lets out a dry chuckle, “I had a whole plan,” he laments, shaking his head.

Evan isn’t having it; he takes Tommy’s face in his hands and draws him in for another heated kiss before pulling back. “Whether in some private lodge or here in our kitchen, my answer is still the same,” he says, and Tommy feels breathless.

“God I fucking love you,” he confesses, resting his forehead against Evan’s, noses brushing together.

“I know,” Evan says, and then, eyes sparkling with a little bit of mischief; “Wanna find out if engagement sex is better than normal, living-together sex?”

Tommy doesn’t have time to answer in the affirmative before Evan’s mouth is on his again, his lips still sweet with maple syrup. He feels a hand snake up his shirt as they start maneuvering towards the bedroom, losing articles of clothing along the way. He has more words to say, a whole speech he’d planned out that would show Evan just how much he means to Tommy. He’ll say them sometime, later, he thinks, when the desperation has worn off and they’re laying in the afterglow, sated, and happy.

Ao3

[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

Could you do one where the reader had been in a relationship with Hunter before being taken with Omega on Tantiss. Now that they're reunited, Hunter realizes that he wants to marry the reader?

With a little bit of Wrecker and Crosshair friendly teasing Hunter.

Marry Me?

Hunter x Reader

Summary- After an insufferable separation from you, Hunter realizes his true feelings. That he never wants to be apart from you- that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

Part Two right here! Part Three right here!

A/N- SPOILERS FOR SEASON 3 OF THE BAD BATCH!!!! You have been warned! Thank you so much for requesting babes! Hope you like it! <3 <3

Word Count- 1,755

Beautiful Screen Shot by @isthereanechoinhere96

"Omega... It's- It's been months. We don't even know if they're still aliv-"

You felt shame rise up in your chest when you agreed with Crosshair. He was right, time had gone by slowly and there was no way of knowing if Hunter and Wrecker were alive. Your sweet sweet Hunter. The man who only showed he heart for the people he deeply loved. You were lucky to be one of them.

"They'll be there." Omega stated. She was so sure... but all you could think about were the doubts. Omega was always able to be more trusting and optimistic than you. Constant fear of losing your family limited you severely.

You swallowed deeply and looked down to Omega, pushing your anxieties down. "They will be." Were you trying to convince Crosshair or yourself?

The next few minutes of hyper-space felt like days. You were so eager. Everything was either going to get a million times worse, or a million times better.

Omega guided the ship to a remote planet you had never heard of, a deep blue over taking you.

Picking at your nails nervously, you stood- ready to depart. Crosshair noticed this and eyed you. He was nervous as well, but for different reasons.

You almost sobbed when you saw the Marauder in the distance. Hope bubbled in your chest, all thoughts of doubt escaped you.

The second the door lowered with a steam, Omega ran out of the ship. You followed her quickly behind.

She stopped at the mid-point between the ships. Wrecker slowly exited the Marauder, "Now there's a sight!"

You laughed, the tension dissipated. Omega ran to him and Wrecker picked her up, spinning around. "Wrecker!" She responded.

The sight made tears of joy fall. To see Omega so happy was enough for you.

"And I wasn't even sure your message was real!" Wrecker half-joked, still holding Omega up.

"Wrecker, I knew you'd show up!" Her words made your ears ring, did Hunter show up? Well, of course he did! That would be dumb for him to leave Wrecker... Unless, unless he wasn't alive to leave.

Your brain ran wild, why hadn't Hunter come out yet? It was almost as if Wrecker read your mind, he rested a hand on your shoulder after lowering Omega.

Just then, another set of footsteps came out. Hunter skipped steps to get to you and Omega.

Your hands shot up to cover your gasp, tears falling fast now. Omega got to Hunter first- you knew she needed it more.

He crouched down and hugged Omega deeply, his words drowned out. What you did make out was him saying your name, an arm stretched out for you and an arm holding Omega tightly.

You met him as fast as your feet would let you. "Hunter..." You whispered, face immediately meeting his neck as he pulled you close.

His arm pulled you in, crushing you against him in a pleasant way.

He pulled back to pepper your face with kisses, then a deep one on the lips. A few of your tears dripped onto his face, mixing with his own.

Omega giggled and pulled on your arm, you pulled back to let her back in on the hug. All three of you were lifted when Wreckers arms grasped around the bunch of you.

Wrecker pulled everyone up, making the embrace tighter. It was like your perfect little family was back again.

That night, after abandoning the empire's ship, was filled with more hugs, catching up, tears, and awkward conversations with Crosshair. You couldn't have wished for anything better. Your family, all in one place. Save for Echo, but you learnt he was safe with Rex- that made you smile.

You helped Omega settle into her room. You noticed too many yawns and drifting off, she was worn out emotionally and physically.

You spoke with her softly, reminding her everyone would still be here in the morning. Picking up Lula, her doll, and tucking it under her arm gave out the last yawn.

"Can I talk to Hunter?" She questioned with big eyes.

"Of course, baby. I'll be right back" You pet her hair back and left to go retrieve him.

You stopped when you saw him, Crosshair, and Wrecker whispering in the cock-pit.

"Ahaha! Be a man, just ask!" Wrecker said as he patted Hunters back harshly. Ask who? What would he have to 'be a man' about?

"If you say it any louder he won't have to..." Crosshair remarked.

"Oh! Sooorry." Wrecker dragged out.

"Both of you hush, I'll do it when I feel the time is right." Hunter spoke, his husky voice immediately filling you with warmth.

"You got this!" Wrecker exclaimed again, this time he earned a "Shhh!" from both Hunter and Crosshair.

You slowly entered the cock-pit, this time making your appearance known.

"Oh! Hello!" Wrecker greeted loudly, signalling to Hunter you were in the room. Hunter just sighed and shook his head.

You were curious about the conversation, but thought it might not be any of your business.

Smiling, you started, "Omega wants you to finish putting her to bed, Hunter." The way his face lit up had you star-struck. Almost like he couldn't believe she wanted him. "Thank you."

He nodded and headed her way, a hand cupping and maneuvering around your waist as he passed you. His subtle but frequent small touches warmed your heart.

You took a seat in the co-pilot chair, swiveling to look at Crosshair and Wrecker. Both looked down at you with crossed arms and smug looks.

"What?" You wondered if there was something on your face, or if you just took someones spot.

"Nooothing, we will be heading off to sleep now. RIGHT Crosshair?" Wrecker spoke in a suspicious voice, elbowing him in the side. Crosshiar grunted but agreed, leaving you alone.

Weird.

But then again, nothing was normal on this ship.

You took this time to lean back and take a few minutes of rest alone. It was nice being able to relax by yourself, knowing everyone was safe.

After a handful of minutes, Hunter made his way back from Omega. He took the seat next to yours, turning to face you.

"How are you doing?" You asked, sparking conversation.

"Fine, I'm just happy you guys are here... I keep thinking i'm going to blink and you'll both be gone..." His words shook at the end. You sat up, understanding the seriousness of the conversation.

"Hunter, Omega and I are alive and safe. We are here and we are not going anywhere." You rose and stood between his legs, hands cupping his face.

He looked up at you, tears filling his eyes slowly.

"What if I can't protect you two again?" He brought up a hand to rest at your hip, the other on his leg.

You rested your forehead against his, "That was a freak accident, baby. No one could have stopped that. Now we have Crosshair, Batcher, and we are ready for anything. We will keep Omega from the Empire. I promise."

He took a deep breath in, like he had just decided something.

He started by saying your name, "You always know just what to say. I wish I had that ability..." He closed his eyes and breathed you in for a moment, then he spoke again. "When... When we were apart I was so lost."

"I kno-"

"No, I don't think you understand. I couldn't think of anything but you and Omega. I was so broken without you." He repeated your name.

"I-I never want you to be away from me again." His voice got huskier as he spoke, and your legs felt like jello. You just looked at him deeply, nodding.

He started for a second time with a shaky breath, "No one can take you from me again. I will claw my way back to you every damn time." He nods his head up, brushing his nose to the side of your cheek with closed eyes.

You let him speak, even when your mind was flowing with your own comments, "It- The distance, made me realize. There is no one that can compare to you. No other woman I would ever want to be with."

Ah, so that is what they were talking about. You smiled big, awaiting the special phrase.

Tears filled your eyes with his words, he was speaking as raw as he was capable of.

"I can't promise you money or luxury, but I will spend every waking hour fighting to make you happy. Fighting to keep you safe." He pulls back, steadying you with both hands on your hips.

You take in a teary breath to speak, but he cuts you off. "Don't say anything yet, just- Wait here, just a second." He stands, reaching to Crosshair's old storage compartment.

He rushes back with a small box. You raise your hands to cup your own face, bright red. He lowered onto one knee, right in the middle of the cock-pit

"Please, for my own sanity and happiness, will you marry me?" He asks.

"Yes. Yes Hunter, there are no other words than yes." You fall down onto him, arms grasping around his neck.

He lets out a sigh of relief like you'd ever say 'no.'

"Thank you, oh thank you." He whispers into your neck, holding you tight. He only pulls back slightly to kiss you. A kiss so deep and full of emotions your head spun. You just held him, never wanting to let go.

It felt like time stopped, just for you two. Just for a clone trooper and a small girl...

"I never planned on you..." He broke the silence, head placed on top of yours. "But I- you were so damn perfect. Too perfect." You gave a small laugh, looking up to see his handsome face.

You rested a hand on his tattoo, thumbing it. "Hunter, if anyone is perfect it's you. You have so much love for me and Omega... How do you do it?"

"I manage." He smirked, leaning down to smell your hair. Something he used to do frequently when you snuggled in the past.

"Am I now Mrs. Hunter? Or is it Mrs. Trooper?" You joked, pulling back to sit fully on the ship floor. Your hands still filled with his much larger ones.

He smiled at you, another reminder on why he loved you so much. "We can figure out all the fine details later... Just let me kiss you again..."

So, you did.

A/N- Thank you so much for reading! I loved writing this one, I hope it turned out as good as I thought! Sorry It took me longer to post than usual, I was pretty busy this past week. As always, i'm open to constructive criticism!

Tags- (lmk if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @knight-of-flowerss

[typicalopposite]

Oh I should not be thinking about marriage proposals for a couple we have no confirmation will be long term…

Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut…

Imagine with me, if you will, Buck getting ready for a date with Tommy and there’s a knock on his door. It’s Eddie and— and he’s holding a—

“What’s with the clipboard,” Buck laughs. Eddie flicks his eyes up from where he is busy scribbling something that Buck tries to see but Eddie pulls the clipboard up so he can’t.

“You… are late,” Eddie responds — matter of factly, albeit nonsensically because… late for what? Before he can ask, Eddie swoops the pen around elegantly like he does with his signature and then tucks the board under his arm. “Let’s go.”

And then they are off on a very wild (very confusing for poor Buck) adventure of Buck being passed — with the constantly hidden from his eyes clipboard — from person to person and place to place until he finally ends up at the 118 with Athena who hands the clipboard one last time to Bobby and after some sentimental fatherly speech he gives it to Buck.

On it is a picture frame boarder and what everyone had been scribbling the whole time were their signature and little messages. In the middle where a picture would go it just says turn around.

Buck does and there’s Tommy down on one knee and his whole entire family (his whole entire world) is watching as one of the happiest days of Bucks life unfolds.

And of course he says Yes!

And yeah…. Imma need to get a google doc going for this because it’s made me feel all soft inside!

[pollyna]

comical au where Ice asks Mav to marry him (and then Mav asks Ice), and with the proposal comes the ring (made of gold and with the sentence “you can be my wingman anytime” incised on the inside), and Mav wears him at home or when they aren’t in their uniforms.

Until one morning where Mav is too sleepy to report too early even for his standards, and he has to leave a sleepy Ice in their bed—still asleep and hugging Mav's pillow because Mav isn't there anymore—and he forgets to take off his ring.

By 7:30 am, the scuttlebutt wants that Pete Maverick Mitchell got married last night and the possibility of whomever is married going from one side of the ocean (where Admiral Benjamin's stationed at that moment) to the other (some babe he met in his last deployment in Japan).

By 10 am, when he is finally getting home because it's Saturday for fuck's sakes, Ice is still sleepy but more awake and sipping coffee at their kitchen table.

“I heard congratulations are in order,” he says, trying to hide his smile behind the cup.

Mav can't help but stare back at the man like he's growing a third head. “For what?”

“Apparently you got married last night, and now everybody is betting on who the happy bride is.” He adds, looking at Mav's left hand.

“Oh,” the man himself answered, “well, you would have looked rather dashing in a white dress if how you were wearing your uniform was any indication of it.”

Ice's blushing is barely perceptible if one doesn't know where to look, but Mav does, and he finds himself standing in front of his fitted figure.

“I'm going to kiss Msr. Mitchell, good morning because I was up at a horrible hour, and I missed you,” he says, taking Ice's face between his hands.

“It's Msr. Kazansky-Mitchell for you,” Ice corrects him before letting Mav kiss him.

“I can live with that,” they found themselves cackling, Ice’s head against Mav’s chest while they hugged.

(Years later, after the DADT repeal, it stays an inside joke between the two of them even when Kazansky-Mitchell is written on every document existing—from the marriage certificate to the door of Ice’s studio to Mav’s dog tags to their bills. It never loses the funny edge.)

[wikiangela]

you're my twin flame from a past life

this is the cheesiest, corniest, fluffiest, most romcom-y thing I've ever written, so be warned lol and enjoy <3 huuuuge thank you to emma (@evansboyfriend) for beta reading <333

bucktommy rating: G words: 4k summary: Buck's sure he and Tommy were destined to find each other. Now that they have, he intends to keep Tommy forever.

[read on Ao3]

“Yes, Tommy,” he rolls his eyes with a small huff of laughter. “I’m better than ever. I’m just- just thinking.” He shrugs with one arm, the one he’s not lying on. “I can see that. What are you thinking about so intensely?” Tommy shifts on the bed, lying on his side to fully face Buck now, the movie apparently forgotten, still playing in the background. But it’s a romcom, it’s predictable, not like they’re missing much. They can always rewind later, because Buck knows Tommy will want to see the ending anyway, and pretend he’s not tearing up at whatever cheesy love confession and kiss, or maybe some emotional montage, at the end will be. He can be such a dork, and a hopeless romantic. It’s adorable. “If you wanna share?” “Uh, it’s just-” he starts, but cuts himself off with a slight shake of his head. “Nevermind, it’s stupid.” “I’m sure it’s not.” Tommy’s hand – such a big hand, Buck still can’t get over it even after all this time – settles on Buck’s side, over his ribs. “You know you can tell me anything,” he says, and it’s a reminder, a reassurance, but no insistence, no pushing to tell him anyway, always letting Buck lead, letting him come to Tommy with whatever’s on his mind. Buck smiles softly, his fingers tracing over the side of Tommy’s face, from his cheekbone to jaw.  “I know. I was just- I was thinking about how sometimes I feel like-” his smile widens involuntarily, his cheeks heating up, but the words sound sure and confident and true, exactly like he feels about them and this relationship, “Like I’ve been searching for you my whole life.”

[read on Ao3]

[demonoflight]

Double proposal

[virginsexgod69]

Idk why, but I've really been loving the idea of Daryl proposing to reader recently. Like, he was just gonna pop the question in the confines of their own home, but maybe while on a hunt, the reader successfully tracks down and kills a deer on her own without Daryl's help, and while she's excitedly rambling about the fact that she finally did it on her own, Daryl just looks at her and thinks, "yeah, this is the girl I wanna marry," and then unexpectedly just says "marry me". He pulls a ring out and everything. Fluff all the way!

Thank you so much if you write this, but don't feel pressured to! You don't have to write something you don't want to. I completely understand either way. I appreciate you nonetheless 💜

❝ Marry Me ❞

pairing Daryl Dixon x F! Reader

cw killing a deer and some walkers

1.7k words

note this was such a cute idea and i loved writing it so much! i hope you like it and it fits the vision you had! =]

“What’s on your mind, baby?” You asked sleepily, running your fingers through his soft hair as his head rested comfortably on your chest. 

“Nothin’,” he lied. He hated lying to you, but he didn’t know how to go about popping the question. Now would have been a nice time, with two of you cuddled comfortably on the couch in the privacy of your own home. Moments like these were some of his favorites with you and adding the memory of a marriage proposal to them would only make these moments better. But for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He wasn’t scared you’d say no, in fact he would have bet his life on you saying yes. Yet, each time, the words kept dying on his tongue and the ring weighed heavily in his pocket. 

“You can tell me anything, you know that, right?” You insisted. He looked up at you sweetly and muttered an ‘I know.’ You gave him a sad smile, wishing he’d tell you what he was thinking, but respecting his decision not to. 

“I love you, Daryl,” you said dreamily. This was it, the perfect segue into a proposal. He sat up properly and felt around in his pockets for the ring. The words were just about to leave his mouth, but the tired yawn that escaped you interrupted him. 

“G’nite,” you muttered as you dozed off. Daryl would never not be amazed at how fast you could go from being wide awake one minute to falling asleep in the next. He pulled the ring out of his pocket and fiddled with the shiny piece of jewelry. It was a small, elegant ring with a fairly thin band and diamond right in the center. Whoever had originally bought it had to have paid a fair amount of money for it, but stuff like that didn’t matter now. Even though you would say yes without a ring, he still wanted to do something nice for you because you deserved it. The weeks of examining the hands of every walker he killed and searching through abandoned cars and buildings all became worth it once he found the perfect ring for you. But somehow, that was the easy part. Finding the right words at the right moment was proving difficult as every minute he wasn’t married to you passed by. He sighed to himself and tucked the ring back into his pocket, disappointed that yet another opportunity slipped by. 

He gently lifted you from the couch, taking extra care not to wake you from your peaceful sleep. He carried you up the stairs and into your shared bedroom before pulling back the comforter and sheets and tucking you in. He slid into the bed beside you and you gravitated toward his warmth like you usually did. He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Love you, too.” 

The sun blooming over the horizon created an orangey hue across the clear sky, illuminating the once dark forest. It became easier to see the tracks of the deer you’ve been tracking since dark morning. Hunting wasn’t something you did before the dead started rising, but it quickly became a necessary skill to have and thankfully, you had Daryl to show you the ropes. He even showed you how to use his crossbow once when you joined him on a hunt way back at the prison. That same day you learned that you preferred a hunting rifle. In return, you shared with him the medical knowledge you had from being a paramedic. The quid pro quo relationship you had with the hunter slowly grew into something more deep and meaningful over time. 

Finally, after hours of following the tracks imprinted in the damp earth, you came across a clearing where the doe stood. You aimed the rifle at her, careful not to make any noise and scare her off. Through the scope, you pointed the weapon at the place Daryl taught you to in order to ethically kill it. Just as you were about to press your finger to the trigger, you noticed walkers approaching the doe. Their loud groans and clumsy footsteps spooked her, sending her running into the forest just at the same time you fired your shot. 

“Goddamn walkers!” You cursed. You put the safety on your rifle and hung it on your shoulder by the strap. Unsheathing your knife, you entered the clearing and approached the undead beings. You put them both down once they approached you and cleaned your knife on your jeans before putting it back into its sheath. Red blood contrasting on the green grass caught your eye. It belonged to the doe, meaning your shot actually landed and she could be somewhere wounded, or even dead. Excitement increased your heart rate as you followed her blood trail. This was the closest you’ve come to killing a deer on your own. You’ve managed smaller kills, like squirrels, before, but never a deer! You couldn’t tell if you were more excited about actually killing the deer or seeing Daryl’s reaction, but either way you were giddy. 

After trekking about a half mile in the direction the doe fled, you finally found her lying in the greenery having succumbed to your shot. You were beaming with happiness as you effortlessly picked her up and carried her across your shoulders. You’ve carried people heavier than her out in the field during your paramedic days. 

Daryl nervously fiddled with the ring as leaned over the railing of the front porch, smoking a cigarette. He hated how hopeless he felt when it came to actually proposing to you. With how long the two of you have been together romantically, the ability to propose should have come to him naturally. He knew there was nothing to be nervous about and that he was just psyching himself out and he should just ask you to marry him already. But every time it felt like the right moment to, that feeling was gone once he started digging around in his pocket for the ring. 

The sight of you walking toward the house with a big smile on your face and a deer draped over your shoulders snapped him from his thoughts. Maybe it was just the sun shining from behind you, but you were absolutely glowing.

“Daryl!” You shouted excitedly as you increased your walk into a small jog. You set the deer down before hurrying up the porch stairs. He put out his cigarette before you excitedly jumped into his arms, embracing him like you haven’t seen him in months. 

“Guess what!” You said as you reluctantly pulled away from the hug. 

“Wha?” Based on the deer laying at the base of the stairs he was sure he could tell what happened, but you looked so happy and he wanted to share your excitement and hear you tell him yourself. 

“I finally killed a deer! All on my own!” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as pride swelled in his chest. He remembered when he took you hunting with him the first time. You were the one who wanted to go with him and "see what he does when he's off to who knows where for who knows how long." When he finally did, you complained about how boring it was and how all you were doing was looking at dirt and not seeing any animals. But now, here you were with a deer you had hunted all on your own. 

"I had been tracking it since way earlier this morning and I almost thought I wasn't gonna catch it but then I saw it in a clearing and so I was gonna shoot it but then walkers got in my way like they usually do, those annoying sons of bitches, and then the deer ran but I had shot at it so then I followed the blood..."

Daryl stared at you in awe as you rambled on about your adventure. The sense of pride and adoration he felt whenever he looked at you, but now especially was overwhelming. You were perfect in every way and he'd be damned if he went another second without being your husband. 

"...and then I found it further in the woods and I was just so excited that I finally caught a whole entire deer all on my own for the v—"  

"Marry me!" he blurted out suddenly. 

"Huh?" You blinked at him in confusion, not sure if you heard him right. As if he suddenly remembered something, he patted all his pockets until he felt the one with the ring in it and pulled it out. The sparkle of the diamond in the sunlight caught your eye. 

"Will ya marry me?" he repeated, this time holding out the ring to you. He lowered himself to one knee, still holding out the ring. Your eyes filled with tears, happy tears, and you held out your left hand to him. 

"Of course!" you said as he slid the ring onto your fourth finger. It fit almost perfectly. As soon as he stood up from his position on the floor, you jumped into his arms. He caught you and held you tight as you peppered kisses all over his face. He set you back down onto your feet and held your face in his big warms hands, wiping away your tears away with his thumbs. 

"I'm so proud of ya fer catchin' that deer all by yerself." The smile that graced his face was contagious. 

"Learned from the best," you said, smiling up at him. He leaned down and you met him halfway in a kiss. 

"Can't wait to skin this deer with my wife," he said once he pulled away from the kiss. 

"Ooh," you exclaimed, giddy at the new title, "Can't wait to eat some venison with my husband!" 

thanks for reading!

note i've been a pescatarian for 3-ish years now, but I've been wanting wing-stop, so i got some wing-stop and it was great. thanks for listening

Taglist @banquetwriter @eternalrose81 @the-dixon-effect @dilfsandmartinis @millybaby @daryldixmedown @theoraekenslover @aeriean @lesbian-horror-fan @in-this-minute @paintlavillered @zhannamustdie @thegeorgiahuntsman @bigbaldheadname @Lumi362 @lettersfromyourlover-blog @princesssparkel2024 @hayweee @d0p3ys-delusions @xxlaynaxx

[hornsweetcouples]

[elly-sweetheartcrowley]

[autisticlancemcclain]

Keith is acting suspicious.

Lance is sure of it. Beyond his usual shiftiness, his awkwardness, his tendency towards privacy. Lance knows his boyfriend, and he knows him well, and as such he knows enough to realise that his boyfriend is acting fuckin’ dubious.

Lance is going to snoop. (Yeah, yeah, ethical schmethical. Snooping fosters distrust in relationships and makes things tense blah blah blah. Lance recognises that. He also grew up with fucking Hunk Garrett and His Entire Family, so he also recognises that snooping is simply the best way to gather information. Fair’s fair.)

He waits until his boyfriend’s snores start to kick up, making the bedroom sound like an illegal motorized lawnmower race, and then carefully starts scooching out of his arms.

It takes a while — Keith likes to hold him. (Lance has to take a moment to calm himself down after the thought, lest he start to giggle giddily to himself, reminded that Keith loves him so much that at his most unguarded, his first instinct is to crush Lance in his arms. It’s exhilarating.) But slowly and steadily he manages to slide out of the arms around his waist, filling the newly hollow space with a pillow, and tumbles to the floor. He takes a moment, crossing his legs and sitting next to the bed, to look up at Keith, at the ratty mess of his bedhead and wide open snoring mouth and the tank top skewed across his torso, the hickeys Lance left all across his chest and collarbones peeking out.

“You are such a shit,” he whispers fondly. “I love you so bad it makes me want to, like, bite you or something. You make me weird.”

He watches Keith’s chest rise and fall until his legs fall asleep, wherein he flops onto the hardwood, wiggling his legs through the pins and needles and screeching silently into his arm (worst feeling in the WORLD) until his legs no longer feel like they’re on fire, and then he inches himself towards the right corner of the room like an inchworm.

(It’s three in the morning. No one is awake to judge him to give him shit or laugh at him or anything. He can do what he likes.)

He pulls himself up to his knees when he finally makes it to the corner, loosening his shoulders in preparation. The room is dark, so it’ll be a challenge, but this is not the first time he’s done this. Hell, it isn’t even the fiftieth. He’s a nosy person. He could do this in his sleep, probably, so in the dark is no problem.

As slowly as he can manage, to make sure it’s silent, he pries off the metal grate covering of the air vent, setting it down gently beside him. Laying down on his stomach again to get a better angle, he reaches down into the wide tube, following the curve of the cool metal, arm buried up to his shoulder, until he’s reached as far as he physically can. He carefully starts brushing his hands along the air vent, searching, feeling. It shouldn’t be too far down since his arms are way longer than Keith’s (Lance enjoys calling him T-Rex, which Keith hates and literally everyone else who knows them loves. It’s great).

Finally, his fingers brush on something small, compact, sturdy, and soft. He wraps his fist around it and slowly drags it out of the vent, keeping it in his fist as he crawls out of the bedroom and down the hall, somersaulting into the kitchen. He heads over to the fridge, figuring that if he uses the fridge light and Keith walks in, he can just pretend he’s getting a snack or something, shoving the thing he found into his pants. Keith’ll be too out of it to question it, anyway.

Laughing quietly and evilly to himself as he pulls open the fridge door, he brings his closed fist up to the light, examining the treasure he found. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light, to take in what’s in front of him.

He gasps sharply when he processes, and the treasure slips out of his hands, clattering loudly to the floor.

He freezes immediately, listening for the telltale signs of his boyfriend snorting awake, noticing Lance’s side of the bed is empty, then the sound of his footsteps as he comes to look for him.

But, fortunately, there’s nothing. The only thing Lance hears are Keith’s continued snores.

Rapidly, Lance scoops up the box and brings it back to the light. It’s unmistakable — there’s only one thing that houses in a small hinged velvet box. It explains the shiftiness over the last few weeks, too, the nervousness that Keith has been disgusting as mysterious intrigue.

Keith is going to propose. Keith is going to propose!

Smiling so widely his face hurts, Lance flicks open the box, bringing his face closer to carefully inspect the ring inside.

It’s difficult to see in the dull blue light of the fridge, but Lance starts to cry when he sees it, because he recognises this ring. This is Keith’s dad’s ring; old, heavy gold, classic princess cut diamond, simple and polished and elegant. This is the ring Keith often wears around his neck, although he rarely has as of late, for now obvious reasons. This is the ring Keith has carried with him for almost two decades. This is, without a doubt, Keith’s most prized Earthly possession, and his intent is to gift it to Lance, as a promise of his love and trust and faithfulness.

Lance has to sit down so he doesn’t pass out. He grabs a dishtowel on the way to the floor, pressing it to his face to muffle his absolutely wailing sobs, the most ugly crying he’s literally ever done in his life.

He’s so glad he snooped. If he had this reaction when Keith finally summoned the balls to ask him, his engagement photos would be so embarrassing.

He paused mid-sniffle.

Actually.

A little embarrassed of himself, he slides up his phone, holding the ring box up to his tear-swollen and smiling face to snap a picture. He looks like a mess, but it’s important to him to have a physical memory of the moment he first learned Keith planned to marry him. He’s sure he’ll cry more over it the next time he’s feeling sappy and emotional.

He doesn’t realise how long he sits, fridge wide open, back to the cabinet doors of the kitchen island, staring in awe at the ring, until his watch starts to beep.

“Fuck,” he curses, scrambling to his feet. It’s six o’clock. Keith’ll be up in fifteen minutes to go on his morning run, Lance has literally been mooning over his ring for two and a half hours.

He runs back to the bedroom, barely remembering at the last second time muffle his footsteps, shoving the ring back into the vent and pressing the grate back onto the hole. Keith stirs slightly at the noise, so Lance abandons any thought of whether or not the ring box is positioned back exactly where he found it and fuckin’ dives for the bed, reburying himself in his boyfriend’s arms and hoping he can pass it off as just having shifted around in his sleep or something. Apparently he squirms and kicks a lot (which is a lie that Keith perpetuates to take attention away from the severity of his snores), so it should be fine. Probably.

“Wh—L’nce?” Keith mumbles, stirring from behind him. He inhales deeply, arms pulling away from Lance’s and stretching out above him. Lance’s heart pounds. He forces himself to stay relaxed, to avoid squeezing his eyes shut. He prays that Keith doesn’t notice how sweaty he is.

Keith leans over to press a lingering kiss to his neck, then chuckles. Lance can feel the imprint of his smile on his skin, and tamping down his own reflexive smile is literally the hardest thing he has ever had to do in his entire life.

“You’re warm as hell,” Keith murmurs, dragging his lips down his neck, across his shoulders. His hand comes to rest in his hip, curling into the hollow there. “Betcha you were squrimin’ around in y’re sleep last night, ya worm. Betcha I’ve got bruises on my shins.” His shoulders, pressed against Lance’s back, shake with his laughter, because he is a shithead who is so lucky that Lance loves him. He presses one final kiss to Lance’s skin and then rolls out of bed. Lance listens carefully as he gets dressed in his jogging clothes and runs a brush through his hair. He falls half asleep listening to the familiar sounds, rousing slightly again when Keith ducks back in to kiss Lance’s head one last time before heading out.

Lance smiles as he falls asleep for real, after the sound of the front door opening and closing.

He’s gonna clown that dumbass so goddamn badly.

———

Lance has a love-hate relationship with pranks. On one hand, the one and only time he was sent into an asthma attack so bad he had to go to the hospital was after he and Hunk wrapped every single thing in Veronica’s room with aluminum foil while she was away on a trip, and upon seeing her reaction laughed so hard his lungs basically collapsed. He still can’t think of that without laughing. On the other hand, he’s had more than enough cruel pranks shoved his way, and never in his life wants anyone to feel humiliated because of something he did.

He can’t not prank Keith, though. He’s literally beat Keith to his own proposal. A prank is in order.

Usually, he’d call Hunk for something like that. They’ve been partners in crimes for most of their lives, after all. Pidge too, honestly. He knows they’d both get a kick out of this whole situation as well.

But…even if those dunderheads were capable of keeping their mouths shut, which they’re not, Lance kind of wants to…well, he wants to keep his proposal to himself. He likes being in on it. He likes being to only one in on it, actually. Honestly, the only thing he wants to do is brag to Keith that he knows, which defeats the whole purpose.

He straightens abruptly. A smirk spreads across his face.

He has an idea.

———

The first step is recon. He needs access to the ring, regularly and long-term, but all will be for naught if Keith realises it’s missing. He needs to know if Keith stashed the ring when he decided to propose and avoided thinking about it, or if he checks on it frequently and stresses himself out about when he’s finally going to go through with it. Both are very Keith options. In fact Lance wouldn’t be surprised if he somehow managed both at the same time, as impossible as that seems.

To get around the issue, Lance goes Spy Barbie. He waits until Keith goes out for his weekly coffee date with Shiro and Adam and then digs through his makeup kit, setting aside what he needs and sitting next to the air vent grate. He spends a good amount of time polishing the metal, making sure it’s as fresh and untouched as it was when it was first put in its package, and then he uses a wide end brush to apply a thin layer of highlighter to the white metal. He takes great care to ensure that no colour is visible, only a slight sheen if one were to look closely. And Keith doesn’t have any reason to look closely, and since Lance knows the universe loves him, he won’t.

The next step is waiting. Lance acts completely normally when Keith gets home, if a little giddy. Keith most certainly notices Lance’s giggles and affection and the way he can’t seem to keep his hands to himself, but he doesn’t seem to mind or question it. Lance does sometimes get like this, after all.

He scored a hot as hell boyfriend. He’s allowed to be a little awed sometimes. He doesn’t feel weird about it.

He does, however, mellow out in the next few days. Keith takes him to a car show, which is fucking wicked, and somehow manages to get himself and Lance behind the wheels of two 200 horsepower Mustangs for them to race, which is so exhilarating that Lance doesn’t have words for it. He just yells and jumps around about it a lot. He doesn’t actually manage to find words for a couple hours after he totally smokes Keith’s ass, but whatever. It’s cool. Keith tried his best and everything, Lance is sure.

A week later, when Keith is out on his coffee date again, Lance gets to work. He cuts a large square of parchment paper and covers it with clear packing tape, careful not to touch the sticky side, overlapping strips so they make one giant tape sheet.

Once the parchment sheet is covered, he peels off the tape, and as planned it comes off in one large sheet, slightly bigger than the air vent grate. Again careful to steer clear of the sticky part, he places the tape sheet sticky side down onto the grate, pressing down hard and rubbing to smooth it out completely flat. Once he’s sure it’s totally stuck down, he picks at one corner until it’s loose, then slowly and meticulously peels the whole sheet back. He holds the tape, now showcasing the concealer-print of the grate, up to the light, examining it with the utmost scrutiny.

Not one single fingerprint in sight. Keith has not touched the grate at all, hasn’t dug into his secret hiding spot. He is taking the refusing to think about it route, then.

Lance smirks. He reaches down and scoops up the ring, placing the grate back where it belongs and skipping out to the living room, humming jovially to himself.

Excellent.

———

The first picture Lance snaps, while biting his lip so hard to keep back his laughter it bleeds, is once again in the dead of night, two weeks after Lance first discovered the ring. Keith is sprawled out on his back this time, arms and legs askew, sheets tangled somewhere around his legs. Lance shifts so they’re both facing the same direction, then holds up his phone camera, trying to figure out how to artfully position himself for utmost devastation upon discovery. He decides eventually on a classic.

He heads over to the dresser to pick out his cutest pajamas, settling on the red spaghetti strap top with lace and short-shorts, debating on accessorizing and deciding at the last minute not to bother except for lip gloss, which is always appropriate. He climbs into bed next to Keith, gently laying his head on his chest and maneuvering one arm to wrap around Lance’s hips. The other he leaves flopped on top of the pillows. He leaves Keith’s mouth wide open because it’s funny, and goes the extra mile to mess up Keith’s hair worse than it already is, because that’s funnier. Finally he flicks open the ring case with his left hand and holds it to his face, grinning widely, and uses his right to snap a picture of the two of them. Once he’s satisfied with it, he untangles himself from the bed again, puts the ring away, presses a sticky lip gloss kiss to Keith’s cheek for funsies, and crawls back into bed for real. His sleep is sound as a baby’s.

———

The next photo doesn’t actually happen for another month. Lance fears overdoing it, and also kind of fears getting caught with the ring, so he leaves it in its hiding spot until the opportunity for another cheeky photo presents itself.

The opportunity in question arrives when Keith announces that he has arranged to drive down to the secluded beach that Lance took him too early in their relationship to spend the day. At first Lance thinks he’s proposing for real, and to check he waits until Keith has the car all packed up and ready to go and then pretends to run inside to go to the washroom. Instead he ducks into their room and tears into the air vent, grasping around until his fingers close around the box.

He scoffs to himself. Wimp.

He quickly shoves the box into his fanny pack (fanny packs are COOL and CONVENIENT and Lance will not hear a word of controversy on the subject, they are absolutely nothing like Keith’s dweeb utility belt) and sprints back to the car. When Keith asks him why he’s smirking, Lance manages to convince him that he’s just excited for the beach.

Lance should have been an actor, honestly.

He mostly forgets about the ring while they’re there. He has enough sense to keep it in the car instead of on the beach so it doesn’t get stolen, unlikely as it is, and just enjoys the day with his boyfriend. He convinces Keith to go jet skiing with him and cackles to himself as he purposely sends Keith flying off the back of it. He screeches at the top of his lungs later when Keith scoops him up from his nap and literally chucks him into the ice cold water. The two of them make really garbage sculptures of their friends in the sand to amuse themselves. They gather ugly seashells and send pictures to their friends asking them if they’ve been turned into mollusks, since there is a resemblance. The whole day was a blast. Lance firmly slots it in his top ten days of all time.

When they go for a long walk to watch the sunset, Lance snaps a picture with the ring and a very teasing grin the second Keith has his back turned. He will bring up how this was a perfect moment to propose, and he will pat Keith’s head condescendingly about it. He can’t wait.

———

The third photo is another dead-of-night-situation. Lance knows it’s repetitive, but it’s easy and it’s funny and Lance can’t resist.

To change things up a bit, he decides not to be in the photo, and also to see just how much he can get away with.

Keith is on his side, this time, one hand tucked under the pillow, one hand held loose and open on top of it. He’s been tired, lately, and when Lance says he fell asleep the second his head hit the pillow, he is not exaggerating. In fact Lance is reasonably certain he passed out in the way down. He is KOed. He’s unconscious. He is absolutely dogged out.

The timing is perfect.

Carefully, aware of the consequences should Lance make a mistake, he removes the ring from its box. He realizes abruptly that it’s the first time he’s ever done that, despite his ridiculous quest, and he finds that he can’t quite let go of the ring just yet. The metal feels cool and smooth on his finger tips; worn, even. It’s shinier than it used to be, which means Keith has probably had it professionally retouched. Resized too, probably, although Lance can’t quite bring himself to check. The diamond catches the minimal light in the room and refracts into rainbows that fall softly on Keith’s lax face, highlighting his sharp jawline, his softly squished cheek, his relaxed brow. He looks so dorky when he sleeps, completely free of the furrow of concentration that usually resides in between his eyebrows, his resting frown. His mouth is always wide open when he’s out, and the echoing of his snores is so comically loud and ridiculous but absolutely something that Lance can’t live without. He has them recorded, actually, for the rare nights they’re not home together, on the rare night Lance has to sleep alone.

Smiling softly to himself, Lance places the ring in Keith’s open palm. He rests his hand on top of Keith’s for a moment, just because he can, just to relish in the scratch of Keith’s callouses on his skin, before pulling back and steadying his phone to snap a picture. He catches it right as Keith inhales heavily, right as his nose scrunches up.

It’s goofy as hell. It’s perfect.

———

The fourth picture is the riskiest, Lance thinks. He’s taken to carrying the ring around with him everywhere, almost as if he is the one planning to propose, just in case he has a moment when Keith’s back is turned. (There really aren’t that many. Keith faces him a lot. He likes to hold Lance hand and kiss his face, neither of which you can do from behind. Lance fucking loves his boyfriend so much.)

They’re at a Thing. Lance’s parents are celebrating their fortieth anniversary, and obviously Lance is bringing Keith, and since Keith is his mother’s favourite he is encouraged to bring his family as well, which means Shiro and Adam are coming, and if Hunk and Pidge weren’t invited then someone would cry and nothing would be right in the world, and of course Veronica is bringing Allura, and Coran comes because Lance’s dad thinks he’s the funniest man to walk the Earth. And of course all Lance’s relatives are there.

The point is that it’s a full house. A couple full houses, actually, since their neighbours are also involved. It’s a lot of people in one place.

As is protocol in crowded places, Keith is essentially glued to Lance’s side. Lance is quite happy with this arrangement, because he gets to show his boyfriend off like the hot piece of ass he is, especially to his rude ass great aunties and uncles who always had something to say about Lance and his single-ness when he was still rocking braces. So.

One thing about Keith, though, is that everyone who meets him is doomed to fall in love with him forever and ever, or so Lance has noticed. His niece and nephew are no exception, and immediately upon catching sight of their uncle — Keith, that is, Lance may as well be dead meat when Tio Keith is available, which, rude — they descend upon him not unlike a vulture may descend upon a recently deceased armadillo. Or whatever. Lance didn’t grow up in the desert, he doesn’t know what happens there.

Occupied as he is, one child hanging off each arm, Keith cannot keep his vice grip on Lance’s hand. Occupied as he is, two children talking at him in a mix of Spanish and English so rapid that Lance himself cannot keep up, which is saying something because his nickname for many years was and aptly so Motormouth, Keith cannot have his full attention on Lance. In fact, even, his back is delightfully turned.

Lance doesn’t hesitate. He flicks open the ring box and snaps a picture. His grin is nothing short of gleeful and he is entirely unapologetic.

When he turns back around, ring box stuffed back into his pocket, he realizes Nadia is staring at him with wide eyes.

“You, shush,” Lance says, and then switches to Spanish so Keith, who is still learning, will miss it, “or I’ll choose a random child to be my flower girl. I swear.”

She glares at him. “This is why Tio Keith is my favourite,” she mutters, because she is a snot who acts as if Lance does not and has not for her whole life taken her on all sorts of cool awesome amazing trips and bought her cool awesome amazing presents. Who was it who bought them recorders when they were seven to terrorize Luis with? Lance. Who was it to take them to a live rocket taking off the summer they turned nine? Lance.

“You’re a brat,” he informs her.

She sticks her tongue out at him, snickering. “Side genes.”

Lance unfortunately has nothing to say to that and also refuses to be roasted by an eleven year old, so he yanks Keith away as penance and takes him to a corner somewhere to make out. He feels very smug about it.

———

The fifth time doesn’t happen.

The fifth time is a clusterfuck.

The fifth time, it’s night again, and Lance honestly doesn’t even plan on taking another picture. He’s just next to the vent, lying on his belly, legs kicking in the air as he inspects the ring for the billionth time. He’s so excited. He can’t wait to wear this on his finger. He can’t wait for Keith to put it there. He’s can’t wait to be Keith’s husband, is the crux of it all. It’s like groundhog day except with literal euphoria. Lance is the luckiest man literally alive, and Keith hasn’t even hinted towards a plan to pop the question yet.

“You are the nosiest motherfucker in the planet, you shithead.”

Lance yelps, startling so bad he almost brains himself on the floor and nearly drops the ring. He manages to catch himself with the grace of God and also probably luck, or neither of those things, but either way Lance heart nearly pounds out of his chest.

“You scared me, you butthead!”

Keith chuckles. His voice is low and raspy from sleep, vowels still rounded from the accent that only comes out when he’s mad or drunk or tired. Lance’s belly swoops. Keith grabs Lance’s ankle and tugs, dragging him over to him, pulling him upright when he’s close enough. Lance goes into him fully, curling up into him, head tucked under his chin. Keith’s hands come to rest on top of his, sliding the ring box from him.

“How long have you known, you snoop?”

“Six months,” Lance answers. “In my defense, you were acting suspicious as all hell.”

Keith kisses his head. “Fair.”

“I need to know everything about everything or I’ll die. You know this.”

Keith snorts. He takes Lance’s left hand and smooths it flat, spreading out his fingers. “Yeah. Ruined my plans, though.”

“Oh, please. You and I both know there were no plans involved. You walked by a shop advertising ring retouching and walked in before you even thought about it.”

Keith says nothing. Lance grins and presses on.

“I bet you cried the whole time, too.”

“Shut up. I’m gonna keep the ring.”

Lance kisses him on the chest, the closest place he can reach, through his sleep shirt. “No, you’re not.”

“Mhm.” Keith plucks the ring out of the box with one hand, setting it on the ground beside them and grabbing Lance’s hand with his other. “You’re right. I’m not.”

He doesn’t move for a while, except to stroke his thumb over the palm of Lance’s hand, over and over again. Lance likes the feeling. He’s always likes the feeling of Keith’s hands in him.

“I know this isn’t a fancy dinner or sunset on the beach or with your whole family present,” he murmurs. “But I’m tired of waiting, if you don’t mind me jumping the gun.”

Lance smiles widely. A tear leaks out of his eye, dripping down his face and onto Keith’s hand.

“I don’t.”

“Good.” Keith holds the ring just above Lance’s finger, poised, ready to slide it on but waiting for permission. “Lance Sanchez, will you marry me?”

“Keith Gyeong, I would want nothing more.”

Unhesitant at last, Keith slides his father’s ring onto Lance’s finger, centring it so the diamond shines brightly in the middle. It fits perfectly.

The tears stream down Lance’s face, and he can’t for the life of him pretend that they’re not, not that he’d bother. He buries his face in his fiancé’s neck and feels Keith’s own tears soaking his hair.

“I took a bunch of sneaky pictures of me holding the ring in front of you,” Lance admits.

Keith laughs. “Of course you did.”

“I carried the ring around for months.”

“Checks out.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Lance.”

“I can’t wait to marry you.”

Keith hums, tilting his head up and kissing him properly, entwining their hands so they can both feel the ring press against skin. “No more waiting for you, sweetheart.”

———

based on this post

[riddlers-left-buttcheek]

So i recently found out this happened in harley quinn the animated series and i was like who? what?? when??? so i didn't know about clock king before then and went to investigate aaand i found another design, or rather, a different clock king (apparently there's two) now tell me why

why does he just look like riddler's and scarecrow's lovechild??? or i guess the child of the first clock king and riddler, but i like my first thought better like come on, the suit, the hair, that smug punchable face

really dig this one tho ngl

[wnbnny]

to the boy of golden sunlight- hwang hyunjin(h.hj)

summary: your love lasts forever, through the boundaries of time.

warning: angst if you squint??, fluff, and that's it you're good to go:)

to the boy of golden sunlight, i love you.

you would quietly whisper in the night, willing the breeze to carry the words to your lover miles away from you.

to the boy of golden sunlight, i love you.

hyunjin had always thought you were the most beautiful being on earth. if he was your sunlight, you were his moon. calm and quiet, just like the waves crashing against the shore on a calm summer's night. the calmness to his passion, the muse to his inner poet. you two balanced each other out perfectly.

so when you would have little arguments with him, he would do everything to get you back. he couldn't lose you, not now, not ever.

you loved him too, in your own quiet way. you loved everything about him, from the way his eyes would crinkle up into thin creases when he smiled to the way he would kiss you goodbye every single morning without fail. you loved him with all his imperfections, loved him even through every argument you had with him, no matter how big or small.

"hi hyun," you giggled softly when he wrapped his arms around you in one fluid motion, nuzzling his face into your neck and pressing a soft kiss on your cheek.

"had a good day at work?"

hyunjin worked as the proud owner of his own art gallery, having taken interest in art when he was young and dreaming of being an artist or art curator . recently, his studio had begun to rise in popularity, leading to quite a number of famous art curators taking interest in him, so he was always extra busy these days working with clients and whatnot.

"mmm," he hummed, turning you around from where you were cooking at the kitchen to press a soft peck to your lips.

"hyun, i'm cooking, the food will burn," you laughed, turning around and trying to ignore the irresistible pout on his face as best you could.

"aside from one grumpy old art director that kept bugging me to sell one art piece to him , it went well," he sighed. "i've got even more meetings with clients lined up tomorrow, i don't think i even have time to finish that painting of you i'm doing by the end of the week." he frowned, eyebrows creasing slightly.

"well, i'm always available anytime you need to rant," you smiled, finishing up the pasta you had made and putting the pot in the sink to wash.

hyunjin stared, arms finally disentangling from you after back-hugging you for so long. then something clicked in him.

"marry me."

"what?" you stilled in your movements, turning around to look at the man you had called your lover for years.

"marry me." hyunjin stated, taking your hand.

as the soft glow of the lamp cast shadows and hazy light over the shared apartment you two owned, he had never felt more at home, more comfortable, more relaxed, more in love than he had ever been before. right then and there in that moment, he knew he wanted to marry you. wanted to hold you forever, wanted to call you his. he would always love you, now and forever. and he didn't need gaudy displays of affection, no grand gestures, for him to know that you loved him too.

"i'll get a ring soon, flowers, anything you want. but marry me one day." it came out so simply, so softly in the quiet and comfort of your home, his home too.

"i love you," he whispered, thumb brushing gently over the knuckles of your hand as he pressed a kiss to the back of your hand.

"i'll marry you," you sniffed, tears dripping down your face. "my boy of golden sunlight."

[starchaseriseverything]

Regulus: James, what did you do?

James: Nothing...

Regulus: You're standing there, looking like you did something.

James: Okay, so maybe I did.

James walks forward and gets on his knee in front of Regulus.

Regulus: James.....

James smiles at him.

James: Will you marry me?

Regulus nods immediately and kisses him.

Regulus: Of course I will, you idiot.