#There literally is not a quiet spot at my job. I cannot calm down from sensory overload because everywhere I go there’s more sounds and

[lionblaze03-2]

Because it also just doesn’t matter. Like yeah it’s probably genetics but. What does it matter, because people deserve to have kids if they want them even if they are autistic and also autism isn’t like a fucking death sentence it’s just another way for our brain to work. If you have enough care to deserve to be a parent then you’ll learn to adjust for your autistic kids needs and that has NOTHING to do with genetics.

We don’t need to know what “causes” autism. That mindset always leads to eugenics. And I’m serious.

[insufferablelust]

Cockwarming Don Reid with his men in the next room

Warning : Cockwarming, mob boss! Spencer, Mean dom!spencer, mention of killing, degrading name calling, filthy.. so fucking filthy, exhibitionism, literally almost fucking in front of people, mention of sub space, d/s theme obviously, and yeah.. 18+ please.

MASTERLIST HERE.

“Princess, come here.” Spencer pat his lap with a burning gaze directed to the cute little thing sat ontop of his office couch like a queen. Work days usually means no playing around, for Y/N it’s one of those days where she’d usually spend at her apartment doing her tasks or paint something for the young don.

But on rare occasions such this, where all the workload of responsibilities upon responsibilities piled on his shoulder, he’d bring her in, he’d tell her to sit all pretty, and continue to study unless daddy calls and that’s exactly she has been doing for hours now, sketching the wooden figurine on his shelf with her legs up the table and her back rests against the couch. She looks prettier than usual he thought, not that his butterfly never look anything less than amazing but she just radiates that softness, that gentle and tender touch which he often depraved himself of— being in the mob especially as the leader, he has to be on the rough rugged edge all the time, he cannot be tender and soft but he can certainly have you as his own personal reminder that not all things in life is as bad as what he has seen.

Y/N, the darling butterfly happily obliged as she stood up after placing her sketchbook down the table and make her way to where he sits on the large chair— colored burgundy red. The soft knitted knee high socks that clad her feet anxiously drags her to the edge of his desk with her fingers fumbling on the hem of her flower dress, no matter where and when, or how and why— he always intimidates her in ways that seemed to flutter her insides with pure wanton yet desirable lust, all for him.

Encased in a black suit, he sat up straight as he holds her hips before placing her down atop his lap with her back against his front, his perfect little princess. “Dressed so prettily for daddy. Haven’t seen this one before pet, did you buy them just to impress me hm?” if it were any other man, talking to you like you owe them you would flip their asses off and beat them to pulp— but when he says it, demands it, caress your soul with it— you couldn’t refuse nor deny.. not that you would ever want to anyway because yes, yes you did buy them to impress him, to make him as weak as she is for him.

She nodded shyly with a small “yes daddy” before squirming gently ontop of his lap whilst Spencer caress her inner thigh— calloused rough fingers brushing up and down her god glowing skin, intensifying all the tension that builds inside of her. Her skin prickled with heat as he inches his sinful fingertips up up up creeping upon her clothed dripping wet cunt, causing her to mewl lowly in frustration, grinding her ass back against his growing crotch.

“Daddy has so many things today pet, so many fucking things to keep you happy, to buy dresses like this one.” He whispered onto your ear, his lips pressing against your temple with his curls gazes against your heating cheek as you nod and shut your eyes tight— feeling his knuckles graze right against your clothed aching swollen clit, making you buck up your hips as he laughs behind you, chest rumbling with triumph.

“Jesus petal, haven’t done anything and you’re soaking my pants already? are you always this needy? fucking hell.” He shook his head as he keep on laughing condescendingly, whilst you writhed and squirm on his lap, your face nudging against his neck. “Please d-daddy..” Oh how he loves your mewls, your sweet sweet moans just sent all the blood from his head rushing down toward his cock— making him all dizzy and dying to feel your clutching heat.

“Shh you want Morgan to hear you, is that it? want my men to hear your filthy moans, bunny?” His words sent tingles up your spine, through your bloodstream as his fingers skillfully tear your panties apart, with you gasping— eyes as glassy as ever and mind absolutely mush with tension and pleasure. “Daddy asked you a question.” He growled, before slapping your bare wet soaking cunt few times which you respond with loud cries and squirm on his lap.

“Sorry daddy! f— please i... oh mmh!” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you feel his thumb grazing innocently to your little nub of pleasure numbing nerves, flicking his thumb up and down it focusing on the rhythm as he might as well play you like his favorite instrument. “All needy and you can’t even get a proper word out, such a mindless baby.” He scoffed before slapping right on your clit multiple times.

“Ah! Ah oh! daddy!” You screamed, having no care in the world if his men heard— you knew in the back of your mind that they heard and that alone sends a new surge of adrenaline throughout your body, leaving you pliant and in need for daddy— daddy’s cock, fingers, anything just anything. “Here’s what you’re going to do, pup. You’re going to keep daddy’s cock warm whilst i do my job, if you behave like a good little girl then i’ll let you cum, but if you decided to think with your cunt and move i swear to god i’ll edge you six fuckin ways to sunday, you hear me?” You felt him fumbling with his zipper as he took his cock out, with you whining— babbling ‘yes yes yes daddy’ against his skin, eyes all droopy and fucked with your neatly applied mascara drip down your cheeks.

“Up you go pet, slide daddy in.” You shakily stand, bunching the hem of your dress on your hips before you straddled his thigh and looks down to get ahold the base of his well endowed cock— pulsing with need and heat. “Fuck, go on.” He urged you as he grab ahold of your hips before you lined him up with your sopping wet entrance and sink down slowly— down his massive throbbing length that has you moaning, panting.

“You can do better than that slut”

Smack!

“N-no! daddy please help! please i— ungh you’re too big!” You shook your head as you tried and tried to take him, all of him but everytime you sink another inch— your body felt like it’s been penetrated into a whole new level as if it hadn’t this morning or the night before, “Fucking helpless baby, look at you, pathetic and needy.” He growled before thrusting up inside you at once, forcing his thick length to slip fully inside your pumping dripping heat causing you both to moan out.

“Oh! oh mmh daddy.. shit..” You felt him deep, deep deep inside you, the tip of him grazing against your spot oh so deliciously, whilst you pant and convulse against him, clutching his cock like a vice. “Perfect little cunt, such a perfect doll for me.”

—

You’re convinced that if god was real, at this moment god must hate you for existing, must hate you so much that the universe sent you this adonis of a man to torture and blur the line of sanity and lunacy for you, torment your pleasure in mockery and sarcasm of how he stayed calm with you perched on his godly lap, panting like a puppy in heat as his thick length penetrated your insides as if it belongs there— forcing every bit of your self control over the teetering edge. You’re loosing your mind, that you’re sure of.

It has been no longer than 30 minutes but your toes have curled and uncurled themselves for eternity, your walls grew slicker and slicker each time he ‘shift’ accidentally, as you mewl and bit the skin on his neck, by the last minute of the long 30– you were trembling in order to resist yourself not to move, for the last bit of your working mind still recognized how severe the punishment would be if you were to move, the don is not one to fuck around with— oops.

Just as he stretches his hand, the knock of the door sent you into a spiraling mess, looking up to Spencer with wide eyes— all glassy and doe as you shook your head, “Daddy, d-daddy n-no..” Shivers runs deep and thrumming lively on your bloodstream as you saw his devilish handsome smirk.

“Be good and quiet, pup.” He whispers

“N-no! no daddy please! i—“

“Come in.” The sound of his voice and door cracking open has you shutting your eyes as tight as you could, face buried on the crook of his neck as he grips onto your thigh. You took a peek at the tall standing figure on the middle of his office, recognizing so clearly that it’s in fact Hotch not only that Emily and Morgan were also present, fuck— you’re fucked as you clenched hard causing the don to hiss and slap your thigh.

“What did i tell you about behaving hm? are you going to behave or should i let them deliver your punishment for you little one?” He growled in your ear, making you let out a pitiful whimper, trying as best as you could to resist the need to look at your patrons and to stay still. “No please, i’ll behave.” you muttered meekly, panting at the raging burning release that has been coiling inside your body.

“No please what? you know better, minx.” He shook his head before grasping your neck with his palm as he take a look at your messy figure. “No daddy p-please..” you bat your eyelash at him as he went in to kiss your lips with a small ‘good girl’ before getting back to his business.

“What is it?” He muttered coldly, one hand on the whiskey glass that he took a sip off every once in awhile and the other secured tightly around your lower tummy— you knew what he’s doing, the game is clear, you knew he likes to feel how you can feel him inside of you, pressing against your sweet spot and your slick canal tried so hard not to clench at the thought.

“The shipment hasn’t arrived yet to midtown, it supposed to days ago but we just heard from Garcia that the Kingsley’s hadn’t even reached out to her in weeks.” Although confident, you could tell there’s a hint of fear and worrisome latched behind Hotch’s voice, one does not fuck with your dom, one does not absolutely delay the shipment of his drugs— no no those cannot do.

“Have you traced it back to them?” The voice that rumbled against your back was eerily calm and deeper, resisting every urge inside his body to lash out— you know that very well. His fingers tighten and tighten its hold onto the glass which you could clearly see his knuckles turning white, you just hope that the poor glass won’t break.

“Yes don, Walker and Alvez went to their base and it was empty, looks like they left in a hurry.” You could feel it before you even see it, heard it, the way his blood pumps just even faster before a lound cracking of the wood sent fear and adrenaline through everyone’s bloodstream, “I don’t fucking care how many, and who’re you going to kill, but i want that fucking shipment arrived to midtown by dawn or i’ll pluck their own eyes myself.” His voice somehow rise and fell deeper at the same time, rumbling deep inside his chest which send shivers on everyone’s spine as they nod with a small uniformed ‘yes don’ before heading out hurrily— no one questions him, no one dared to speak against him, even if they know they’ll have the bloods of people (though bad) on their hands by nightfall.

His threat lives like a venom that stuck on their throat as they pursued their mission— one don does not get his hand dirty let alone going round plucking some low life mob’s eyes— or the end result could be.. would be catastrophic. These Kingsleys have one hell of a problem heading their way.

and you.. you have one hell of a raging frustratingly mad Mob boss in your hand.

—

Y/N’s head couldn’t even process the whole thing before she screamed in absolute pain when he pulled out harshly and bent her over his desk, knocking his whiskey glass onto the floor, clattering with no care in a world. Your mind begs for you to soothe him, soothe his anger yet your cunt aches and throbs with the need to let him use you— take the anger out to you, and ruin you for eternity. You’re his, and you’re ready.

“Stay fucking still.” Spencer slapped your ass harshly, causing you to jump in the position, your legs curled up for a moment as he gripped your hair tightly and grasp your neck with his unoccupied hand, “You’re going to stay still and be a good cocksleeve for me, i’m going to use you like you’re my toy and i won’t stop unless you say your safeword, got it?” His breath fans over your heated skin as you shake and tremble, your mind fuzzy with needs and mush of pleasure— blurring your absolute senses and submitting yourself fully to the mercy of his hand— his cock.

“Use your words, dumb little slut.” He hissed, choking your neck even tighter, with much force and you cried out, “Yes! yes sir, use me, i.. i’m yours..” just as you muttered out, your walls involuntary clenching at the intrusion of his cock plunging deep deep deep inside of you in one go, making you scream out in absolute pleasure and pain.

Spencer might’ve seen red— but when he delves deep inside of your tight heat, he saw the absolute heaven on earth as he begins to thrust in and out of your cunt in a brutal space, knocking his desk toppers off, and making you mewls and screams.

“Fucking tight little cunt— mine huh? isn’t it fucking mine pup?” He slammed into you over and over again as his balls hit your clit in an antagonizing pleasure whilst you writhe below him, forcing your eyes to stay open with all the power in your body looses control. “Its— mmmh ngh fuck! it’s y-yours sir! yes yes yes!” Your moans filled the entire building but neither of you care as Spencer drove his cock home everytime he sinks inside your tight pussy.

“Being such a good whore, letting me use you as my personal fucktoy, just to let my anger out.” He laughs maniacally, pistoning his hips as you clench your walls tightly to elevate the pleasure for you both, causing the room to tremble as you moan and cries out loud, “ungh yes! yes yes your whore daddy— mmh fuck me!” You could feel all the drool drips down your lips as he fucked you stupid atop of his desk but neither of you care nor have the patience to even pay attention because in his mind— the messier the better.

“Won’t be able to walk for days, pet. Fucking cunt going to drool for me everytime you see all the marks i fucking left on you.” He growled, bringing his palm over your ass before giving it a smack over and over again as your body lunges forward trying to get away with how all the friction is causing you to went into over sensitivity. But being the mean dom that he is, Spencer laughs as he pulled you back towards him by your hips. “Where are you going, bunny?”

“Please p-please let me cum, sir... ah!” You arched your back perfectly when the tip of his finger move down down down to where your swollen sensitive clit was, rubbing quickly in a fast pace just to send you over the edge, testing you, daring the orgasm out of you. “Wanna cum petal? hm wanna make a mess on daddy’s cock?” He whispered, one hand continues to rub your clit as the other focuses on holding you against him whilst his hips drives up deep— so deep that the tip grazes against your cervix.

“mmhh ah uh uh uh!” Your eyes lolled back trying to find a cohorent sentence— anything you can say to him but no matter what you’re trying to say was rendered to sinful moans and cries instead as you were right on the brink, “You can do better than that, c’mon bunny, beg daddy to cum.” he stills for a second, pressing in deep as he slaps your cheeks not once but twice— bringing fresh tears flows from your eyes.

“I.. ungh please daddy please! let me cum! been so good for you, please— want you to fill me up too.. fill your baby up, daddy!” Your high pitched voice rang an alarm through the circuit of his lust and anger laced mind, you’re slipping into your space and you’re slipping fast with your eyes just glazes absolutely flying through the realm of pleasure sensitivity.

“Good girl butterfly, such a good fucking girl, wanna cum? c’mon cum..” He whispered, before thrusting his hips in and out slowly, feeling the bliss of your overly wet and tight cunt engulfing him— milking him to cum inside, “Cum for daddy, princess, that’s it.. ohh... that’s it baby, good girl.” You cried out silently as you cum hard around his cock, muscles clenching so tightly that you sent him to release himself inside of you, thick ropes of cum paints your inside as you both moan and tremble.

“My good girl, shh thats it— best cunt ever.. that’s it, so so good for me.” He whispered softly, backing down to where his chair was pushed aside, bringing you with him before sitting down. You groaned out a loud scratchy, “daddy..” As you feel his cock shifted deeper inside of you, your eyes closed as he holds you and calms you down.

“Shh shh princess, just stay here like this. such a good girl, gonna keep me warm while i wait for them aren’t you?”

Although your cunt practically ache and scream for you to not say yes, your love and lust filled mind fogged with utter desire— just nods whining an agreeable mumble— just for him.

This will be a long long day and even a longer night.

[atsukashii]

Hi is it ok if I request y/n x kuroo & she/her & ☀️ & pink please?

smooth like butter, like a criminal undercover gon' pop like trouble breaking into your heart like that

✘ hey google: how do you tell if a guy is flirting with you?

✘ GENRE: fluff

✘ WARNINGS: aged up characters, bookshop au

✘ WORD COUNT: 1.9k

“I’d like to take you to the movies, but they don’t let you bring in your own snacks.”

Closing your work locker, you raise an eyebrow at the familiar six foot, raven haired guy, who smirks down at you as if he just won first prize. In cringe worthy pick up lines? Yeah he can take that medal.

“Are you calling me a snack?” You ask, adjusting the strap of your bag.

“Will you go out with me if I say yes?” Kuroo asks again, wagging his eyebrows at you teasingly, and you immediately know he’s messing with you.

“Not a chance.” Offering him a scathing glare, you spin on your heels and slip out the front door of the shop. When you’d first gotten the job at the small bookshop near your house, you'd have been ecstatic. Although you’d been less ecstatic about your new colleague who you’d never met before in your life, but had been slipping you cheesy and corny pick up lines every day for months.

You didn’t even know that there were that many ways to flirt with someone, but alas, Kuroo proved you wrong every shift. At first, you’d been a flustered bumbling mess trying to come up with a response, but as you caught on to how his hazel eyes glinted with untamed mischief, you’d decided that Kuroo wasn’t your favourite person.

That wasn’t to say that you by any means hated the guy, there was no way you could when he was literally one of the nicest people you’d ever come across in your life. He held doors open for you, and would volunteer to carry the new boxes of stock out back because they were heavy - although you had an inkling that was partly to show off. In the end, Kuroo is sweet, kind, and hilarious. But he thinks that hitting on you every day, and asking you out as a joke is also hilarious.

And it’s hilariously pissing you off.

Because somewhere down along the way, between the angel references and calling you a ‘cute-cumber’ you’d found yourself smiling at the lines. You found yourself anticipating getting to work shifts with him, just to see him and for the chance to witness the familiar rogue smile and the pure giddiness that emits from his very being.

But to him, it was a joke. And that left more than a bad taste in your mouth.

Adjusting your bag once more, you try to slide the store door closed behind you to keep the aircon inside - a stark contrast to the summer heat bearing down on you. Before it can close completely, a hand rolls the glass door to a stop and you find yourself once again looking up into hazel eyes.

“Not finished?” You snipe back, having reached your quota of fake flirting for the day. Kuroo doesn’t flinch at your tone, or maybe he just chooses not to notice judging by the smile that graces his face. Maybe, just maybe you could eventually get over him. It’s not going to go anywhere, if it was going to, he wouldn’t have waited literal months to make a move. So maybe, you can let him go.

“Oh I have plenty more for you princess, but I just thought you might want this first.” In his hand is a copy of the book you’d been reading behind the counter of your shifts. Blinking twice, you realise it’s got similar dog eared pages and a crinkled spine from continuous use - that's your book. Instinctively you peer into your bag on your shoulder, and alas, it's empty. With an empty mind, you take the item from Kuroo’s outstretched hand, and offer him a quick thanks as you try to swallow the emotion in your throat.

“You’re most welcome. Walk home safe, I'll see you tomorrow princess.” Kuroo responds with a rogue wink that has you flushing from head to toe. His knowing grin proves that was the response he was looking for, so you quickly shove the book in your back and practically run from your work - swearing that you can feel his gaze on you the whole way home.

Yeah, there’s no chance you’re going to get over him.

This is cemented on your next night shift. You stand behind the counter, your eyes glancing up from the book you’re reading to the group of teenage girls giggling amongst the young adult isle. Really, it should be an actual law for people to be as quiet in bookstores as they are in libraries.

The door opens once more, and you begin to groan internally at the thought of even more rowdy teenagers coming in, but instead Kuroo slinks through the door in all his six foot two glory. Dressed in his work shirt, some black jeans and his usual sneakers, he looks good and the bastard knows it from the raised eyebrows he shoots you when he catches you looking. You don’t reply, but instead turn back to your book, ignoring him and the gaggling teenagers who suddenly shut up as he walks past them to go to the back room. You can’t blame them as their eyes stay glued to his every movement. Kuroo walks like he was meant to carry the world on his shoulders, but instead spins it like a basketball on one finger. As if the most difficult things for him are effortless. Like a god amongst men. Okay, let's not go that far. If he ever heard that, his ego would asphyxiate everyone from here to the south pole.

“Do you like my shirt?” Kuroo’s question has you turning around before you can stop yourself, but you’re all levels of confused as he holds the hem of his shirt in pinched fingers away from his body. His shirt? It’s his work shirt…

“Uh it’s your work shirt…” You manage to mumble out, brows still furrowed, completely baffled.

“Yeah but its made of a different material.” He points out, moving closer to you, only looking up from his shirt and to you when he’s standing only a few feet away. “Boyfriend material.” His grin is actually blinding, so you’re not sure if you’re squinting from that, or from the way you scrunch up your nose in distaste at his line.

“I hate you.” You grumble, turning away and looking down at your book once more, letting your hair fall over your cheeks to hide the flush splashed brightly across them.

“Hate me? Why must you hurt me so princess?” Kuroo jokes, and you find yourself getting more and more disappointed as he grows quiet and begins to start on his own work for the shift. It’s not until you both notice the gaggling girls practically drooling on the floor at him that you decide you need to take your break.

Closing your book loud enough to startle the group of girls and the guy flicking aimlessly through a volleyball magazine at your side. “I’m going for my ten.” You offer in explanation as you try to move out back. You don’t get to even make it past the counter before there's a warm hand wrapping around your own. Kuroo’s hand completely engulfs yours in the best ways and you can’t help but gape at it as it pulls your walk to a stop.

“Are you alright?” He asks, drawing your eyes reluctantly from your entwined hands to his face, and once you spot genuine concern there, you hesitate with your response. How do you say that no, you’re not okay because would you be if the person that you liked jokingly asked you out on a daily basis for months on repeat? But never meant it?

“Yeah, I'm fine.” Kuroo doesn’t let go just yet, but instead scratches the back of his neck with his other hand nervously.

“You know, if I'm honestly bothering you, please tell me. I don’t ever want to make you uncomfortable y/n,” He offers, shame and hurt flashing brightly in his eyes - and it shocks you stupid for a few seconds. It takes you an added moment that he’s talking about his teasing. Wait, he thinks he’s bothering me? Is he?

“Kuroo, if it was bothering me I would have told you alright?” You say softly, your gaze drifting back to your hand. “I mean sure sometimes it can be a bit much but that's mainly because I'm an idiot.” Not expecting those words, Kuroo’s nerves bleed into a confused frown that has you wanting to reach up and thumb away the line between his pinched brows.

“An idiot? Princess, if what I'm saying is bothering you-”

“It’s not what you’re saying that’s bothering me, it’s the joking.” The second the words leave your mouth, you wish you could reach out, grab them, and shove them back down your throat, because the way Kuroo drops your hand as if it burnt him hurts more than you thought it would.

“Joking?” His tone is utterly perplexed, and this time, you’re the one looking back at him with confusion. A loud laugh barks from his chest and you immediately feel embarrassed for absolutely nothing. Kuroo is laughing so hard and obnoxiously that tears actually crest the corner of his eyes, and at this rate you’re ready to just walk out the door if it means you don’t have to deal with this embarrassment for another second.

“You mean to tell me, that all this time you thought I was joking?” Kuroo gets out between laughs, and you feel your stomach drop at his words. What does he mean did you think he was joking? Was he not?

Your silence is answer enough because he runs a hand through his thick dark hair and leans back on the counter behind him.

“Jesus Christ Y/n!”

“You would laugh at me after you said them!” You defend, pointing an accusing finger in his way. How could you not think he was joking when he’d laugh at you, his whole being the very embodiment of mischief when he would say his lines.

“Because your face would go red and you’d tell me I was an idiot under your breath, because it was cute!” Kuroo rebuts right back, trying once more not to laugh, and you can’t help but groan. You cannot believe that this entire time, he was actually trying to ask you out on a date. Well, you can’t fault his perseverance and tenacity.

“Kuroo,” you grumble, bridging your fingers and pressing them to your forehead in thought, just trying to calm your raging heart at the fact that this is happening.

“Y/n,” he grins right back, and you can feel him closing in on your position before you can even see him. But once you open your eyes again, letting your hands fall from your face, Kuroo’s stunning features are right up close and more beautiful than you’d thought.

“Does this mean that you’ll go out with me when I ask this time?” You really do try for your pride's sake to not flush at his words, but heat still crawls up your neck and Kuroo’s growing smile tells you that your mental attempt to stop it isn’t working.

“Yes, I will.” You say, letting the smile tug at the corners of your mouth.

“Good, I'll remember that for my new line tomorrow.”

✘ A/N: more fluffy kurro for ya day, y'all i am l i v i n g for this man rn

©️ 2021 all rights reserved to atsukashii, do not change, edit, translate, or repost any works on any platform.

[chicgeekgirl89]

Home is Us

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand, Owen Strand, Judd Ryder, Tommy Vega, Mateo Chavez

Summary: In the aftermath of the condo fire, Carlos and T.K. seek comfort in one another. Post ep for 2x12 "The Big Heat."

A/N: This is my rather belated post ep for 2x12. And it would not have happened without @bluenet13. Literally. I agonized over this SO MUCH and she listened to all my whining and didn't let me cut the part about Marlon Blendo so I owe her everything.

AO3

The night air was cool and still, the stars sparkling brightly in the sky, but the stench of smoke obliterated any sense of peace or calm. T.K. could feel Carlos’ hand gripping his shoulder with bruising force as they burst out the front doors and onto the lawn, both of them gasping and coughing.

Tommy came running toward them. “Are you all right?” she asked urgently, eyes and hands searching for damage. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m, I’m okay,” T.K. choked out. “Carlos?”

He shook his head, coughing violently. “I’m fine too.”

“T.K.!”

His dad came charging toward him, wrapping him up a fierce hug. “Oh my god,” he breathed into T.K.’s hair and then his other arm was pulling Carlos in too, squeezing them both with every bit of strength he had. “Are you boys all right?”

“We’re good, Dad,” T.K. said, even though he was shaking violently, adrenaline coursing through his veins so fast he felt lightheaded. “What the hell? How did you guys even know we were in trouble?”

“Raymond said something earlier today and I just put the pieces together,” Owen said. “I’m so sorry, I should have figured it out sooner.”

There were sirens screaming up now, ambulances and firetrucks, and Tommy put a hand on Owen’s shoulder. “Okay, there will be time to talk about this later. Right now all of you need to get checked out by the paramedics. No objections,” she said quickly when several mouths opened to protest. “A little oxygen never hurt anybody. Come on now.”

T.K. moved follow her and then realized Carlos wasn’t behind him. He turned to find his boyfriend still rooted to the spot, staring straight ahead at the burning building. “Babe?” T.K. reached for his arm.

Carlos startled at his touch and cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

He was quiet as they sat on the back of the ambulance, answering questions with yes or no answers, eyes and body listless as they checked him over for injuries. T.K. had never seen his boyfriend look so small. 

They were both given oxygen and then Tommy reappeared, blankets in hand that she wrapped comfortingly around their shoulders, her mom tendencies coming out in full force. “Is everyone else all right?” T.K. asked, pushing his mask to the side.

“They’ve all got some first and second degree burns, but they’ll heal up all right. How are you two doing?”

“It could have been a lot worse,” T.K. said. 

“Carlos?” Tommy asked, her eyes softening and taking on a new level of concern.

He met her eyes and nodded. “I’m okay.”

She looked at him a moment longer and then reached out to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’m going to go check on the guys. You two stay right here and do as you’re told, got it?”

It wasn’t long before the paramedics released them with instructions to take it easy, stay hydrated, and head to the emergency room if they experienced any concerning symptoms. T.K. was still in disbelief that they’d escaped so unharmed. It was nothing short of miraculous, if you believed in that kind of thing.

Carlos spoke as they walked away from the ambulance, his voice quiet. “I should uh, I should call my parents,” he said.

“Do you want me to do it?” T.K. asked.

Carlos shook his head, already pulling out his phone. “No. No it’s um, they should hear it from me.”

He dialed, taking a shaky breath as he waited for someone to pick up. “Hey Dad.”

The conversation was painful, even from T.K.’s end. He couldn’t make out Gabriel’s words through the phone, but he could hear the unbridled fear in his voice. Carlos on the other hand sounded almost monotone, relaying the story and pertinent information in painfully exact detail, but without an ounce of emotion behind it, slipping back and forth between English and Spanish as he explained.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him sound so upset before,” Carlos said, when he hung up.

“Yeah.” T.K. looked at his boyfriend who seemed to be refusing to look back. “Carlos? How are you doing?” he finally asked. 

“I’m good,” Carlos said, eyes darting toward him and then away. It was clearly a brush off and they both knew it. So T.K. waited.

And then he watched as his boyfriend broke in front of him, anguish and fear spilling out like a wave until they were both clinging to one another as Carlos’ quiet sobs wracked his frame over and over again.

“Shh,” T.K. soothed, struggling to provide some kind of real comfort when he felt so raw himself. “Breathe. We’re okay. That’s all that matters.”

“I should have known, I should have made the alarm company come out today.”

“Carlos listen to me, none of this is your fault.” T.K. pulled him in tighter, desperate to do something to ease his pain.

“If I had just looked around, if we had waited ten more minutes to go upstairs—“

“We had no way of knowing.”

Carlos pulled back, still shaky. “You can’t really believe that. There’s always something. I should have done better.”

T.K. cupped his face in his hands. “Baby why are you beating yourself up over this so much?”

“Because I’m supposed to protect you!” Carlos said, the words coming out on a ragged sob. “That’s my job. To keep people safe. And when it came down to it I couldn’t protect you. The person I care about most in this world I couldn’t—”

T.K. used his thumbs to wipe away some of Carlos’ tears, clearing his throat, trying to keep his own tears at bay. “Listen to me. We’re a team, remember? We protect each other. You and me. Not just you.”

Carlos shook his head, face still contorted in misery. T.K. pulled him back in again and pressed a kiss to his hair. “It’s okay to be upset. But you cannot blame yourself for this. This was not your fault, do you hear me?”

Carlos nodded against his shoulder, but T.K. wasn’t completely convinced his words had gotten through.

Carlos took a shuddering breath and stepped away, wiping at his eyes and T.K. watched the wall go back up; the one Carlos had carefully constructed around him that meant he was always completely even-tempered and never out of control. “We should uh, we should go check on your dad and everybody. Tell them thank you.”

“Yeah, sure,” T.K. said, feeling like he probably should be saying something more, but unable to find the words.

Carlos was already moving toward the group gathered at the back of the ambulance and T.K. had no choice but to follow him. “You guys all right?” T.K. asked as Judd pulled him in for a side hug.

“We’re just glad you’re both okay,” Judd told him. “Everything check out with the paramedics?”

“We both ate a little bit of smoke, but we’re okay,” T.K. said. “Honestly though,” he swallowed hard, “we probably wouldn’t be here without you guys. So thank you.”

“You’re just lucky your dad drives so fast. I didn’t know he had it in him, what with him being such a city slicker,” Billy said with a chuckle.

“My driving is impeccable and I always drive the exact speed limit. Except in emergency situations,” Owen said, casting a look at Carlos.

Carlos managed to scrounge up half a smile but didn’t say anything.

A truck came screeching to a stop just behind the ambulance and Gabriel Reyes jumped out. The man looked truly shaken, eyes wild as he ran toward them. “Carlos! Mijo are you all right?”

“I’m okay Dad,” Carlos told him as they hugged.

“Gracias a Dios. You’re all okay?” Gabriel asked, looking around the group.

“We got out just in time,” Owen said. “Minor injuries only.”

“Which is more than we can say for the condo,” Judd said. “I’m so sorry we couldn’t do more Carlos, he had that place rigged up good.”

Carlos shook his head. “You did everything you could and we’re…” he swallowed hard and T.K. could tell he was blinking back more tears, “we’re very grateful.”

“Have they taken your statements yet?” Gabriel asked. 

“Yeah, about half an hour ago,” T.K. said. Officers had come around while they were still sitting at the back of the ambulance and written down what little they knew. Nothing like telling complete strangers that you hadn’t realized your house was burning down around you because you were upstairs having sex with your boyfriend. 

“Then there’s no reason you need to be standing around here,” Gabriel said. “You know the ranch is open to you both. Your mother is worried sick, she would be very happy to have you.” He turned to look at Owen. “But perhaps you would rather be closer to work? The ranch is a bit of a drive.”

“Well of course you’re welcome to stay at my place,” Owen said. “There’s plenty of space and Buttercup would love to have you around. But I’m sure Andrea wants you close to her.”

Gabriel shook his head. “I think they’re better off here in town. Andrea will understand. There will be a lot of paperwork to deal with in the coming days, they need to be readily available.”

“Well of course, but I’m not sure how much I can provide in the way of hospitality right now. The investigators didn’t really clean things up when they left,” Owen said meaningfully.

“Not a problem,” Gabriel said, taking out his phone. “I can have a crew there in the morning. It should never have taken this long in the first place. You know sometimes they drag their feet on these things.”

“Oh it’s no problem,” Owen said, waving him off. “Worth it in the end.” 

The dads debated a while longer before they decided an exhausted T.K. and Carlos would stay with Owen for the time being to be closer to work and to their former condo for whatever overhaul was necessary. By that point neither of them really cared where they ended up as long as there was a shower and a bed waiting for them. 

Owen elected to stay at the scene with Gabriel so Judd drove Carlos and T.K. home. Neither of them said much, still in a state of shock and Judd was mindful enough not to try and fill the truck with conversation.

The house was dark, Mateo asleep for the night. Buttercup looked up as they came in and gave half a tail wag before settling back down again.

“I think I left a couple sweatshirts and pairs of pants here,” T.K. said, searching through the drawers in his dad’s guest room. 

“Mmhmm,” Carlos said. He’d sunk onto the end of the bed and was staring blankly at the wall. 

“Hey,” T.K. stopped his search and went to him, cupping his face in his hands. “Why don’t you go get in the shower? I’ll find us something to change into and bring it to you.”

Carlos nodded tiredly and disappeared down the hall. T.K. stood for a moment chewing on his lip. He felt lost, adrift, trying to process and deal with his own feelings of grief and stomach churning worry, and Carlos seemed miles away. T.K. didn’t know what to do except to try and meet his physical needs.

He managed to scrounge up a pair of sweats and a t-shirt he thought would do the job. They might be a little tight, but at least Carlos wouldn’t be sleeping in the stench of his smoky clothes.

T.K. knocked softly on the bathroom door before stepping inside and putting the clothes on the counter. “You all right?” he asked.

Carlos sniffed and cleared his throat. “Yeah. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

T.K. gathered up Carlos’ soiled clothes from the floor and dumped them into the washer, intending to add his after he had his own shower. He heard the water turn off and a minute later the bathroom door opened. “I’m done,” Carlos called softly down the hall.

“I’ll be quick,” T.K. said, switching places with him. 

The water felt good and he watched as soot and sweat and ash slithered down the drain. He took longer than he meant to, almost lulled to sleep by the soothing pound of the water against his back. Eventually it grew cool and he turned it off, stepping out to try and squeeze into a pair of sweatpants that belonged to his dad and a t-shirt he didn’t recognize but had found in the clean laundry.

T.K. left the bathroom still toweling off his hair. He crept quietly toward the guest room; Buttercup didn’t even move as he stepped over him in the hallway. Opening the door he winced when it squeaked, fully expecting to find Carlos completely sacked out in the bed, more than ready to join his boyfriend in blissful sleep.

Instead he found the room empty and a spiral of fear shot through him so fast it took his breath away. “Carlos?” he whispered, as if the man would suddenly materialize from a dark corner or the tiny closet. 

When there was no answer he turned and went back the way he’d come, stepping over Buttercup again, searching the kitchen and the living room before he made his way to the back patio. “Hey,” he said softly when he spotted Carlos sitting on the edge of the outdoor sofa.

Carlos didn’t respond and T.K. felt his worry grow heavier. “Carlos?”

His boyfriend’s shoulders hitched slightly and T.K. walked around the patio furniture to find him hunched over, tears streaming down his face. “Oh baby,” T.K. said, dropping to his knees, hands frantically reaching for him. 

“I’m sorry,” Carlos said hoarsely. “I just…I can’t…I’m trying to pull it together but—”

T.K. slipped onto the couch next to him and pulled him into his arms. “You don’t have to be okay,” he whispered, his own throat thick with emotion. “No one expects that of you.”

Carlos’ voice was hoarse and broken. “I’ve never needed saving before. Not like that.”

“Most people don’t,” T.K. said.

Carlos looked at him, eyes red and swollen. “You were amazing in there. I was…I was panicking and you knew exactly what to do.”

“You’re a police officer,” T.K. said, resting his head on top of Carlos’. “I wouldn’t expect you to know what to do in a five alarm fire. Just like you wouldn’t expect me to know what to do in a shootout.”

Carlos sighed and leaned into him. T.K. bent over and kissed his forehead. “We should try and get some sleep.”

Carlos shook his head again. “I can’t,” he said hoarsely. “I just keep thinking about it over and over again. I’m sorry I’m such a mess—“

“Hey, you don’t need to apologize. Everything you’re feeling is totally normal.”

Carlos swallowed hard. “I know it was just a house. But it was mine. It was the first place I felt like I could be myself. And then you came and it was our home and I—“ Carlos bit his lip and shook his head. “It’s all gone.”

“But I’m not,” T.K. said twining their hands together. “I’m right here. You’ve got me. And I don’t care where we are as long as we’re together. Home is us.” He stroked his thumb up and down on Carlos’ shoulder.

His face sobered as he took a really good, long look at Carlos. Exhaustion and fear still radiated off of him. He looked defeated. Empty. “Let’s at least try to get some sleep,” T.K. said softly, brushing a still-damp, curl from Carlos’ forehead. “We’ll figure things out in the morning.”

He pulled Carlos to his feet and they walked hand in hand back to the guest room. Carlos looked at the clock as he got into bed and groaned. “I have a shift in five hours.”

“You’re not going to work today.” T.K. told him. “They’ll understand.”

Carlos slid down the bed onto his side, leaning up on his elbow, his free hand finding a home on T.K.’s hip. “I meant what I said before. You were incredible tonight T.K. You saved us.”

“I’m pretty sure my dad, Billy, and Judd saved us,” T.K. told him.

Carlos shook his head. “I’m serious. If you hadn’t been there—“

“But I was,” T.K. said firmly. “I was and we’re fine. We’re…going to be fine,” he amended, because god knew there was nothing fine about them right now.

Carlos was quiet for a moment and then laid down all the way so they were face to face. T.K. shifted so they were even closer, needing to feel the warmth of Carlos against his own body. “I don’t think I can sleep,” Carlos said.

“Then we’ll just lie here together,” T.K. told him softly. 

They locked eyes, both of them breathing together in the silence, just being together, holding on a little tighter than normal. “I can’t stop seeing it,” Carlos finally whispered. “I was so scared T.K. What if I’d lost you?”

“You didn’t,” T.K. said softly. He leaned in and pressed a tender, reassuring kiss to Carlos’ lips. Carlos didn’t respond so T.K. nudged him gently with his nose and then kissed him again.

It was slow at first, Carlos still drowning so deeply in loss and anxiety, but as T.K. continued to silently encourage him he began to reciprocate. First just one kiss, and then another, this one a little deeper, until they were completely pressed up against each other, hands searching for bare skin, shared breath moving between parted lips. 

Things grew heated and T.K. could feel the increasing desperation in Carlos’ kisses so he smoothed a hand soothingly down his spine, pulling back from him just a little bit, forcing him to slow down. “It’s okay,” he murmured as their lips broke apart and came back together. “I’m right here.”

Carlos responded by matching T.K.’s slower kisses, following him rather than leading.

T.K. reached between them and slowly undid the drawstring on his boyfriend’s sweatpants. Carlos broke off the kiss. “Are you sure?”

T.K. nodded, moving his hands underneath Carlos’ shirt, helping him pull it off over his head. They both needed this, to touch, to feel, to reassure themselves that they were alive, that this might have changed their night, but it hadn’t change them. 

Carlos started to roll on top of him, but T.K. gently pushed him back down until he was the one on top, chests and hips pressed together, a reversal of their positions from just hours before. Carlos’ hands landed on T.K.’s back, their eyes locking, both of them seeking comfort in the physicality of being together.

“We’re okay,” T.K. said, as much for himself as for Carlos.

Carlos nodded and then closed his eyes as T.K. began pressing kisses into his neck and chest. “We’re okay,” T.K. murmured soothingly every time his lips left Carlos’ skin. “I’m going to say it until you believe it. We’re okay. We will be okay together.”

                                           XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

T.K. woke up in the morning legs still tangled with Carlos’. It took him a moment to remember why he had a pounding headache and his muscles felt tight. Right. Burning condo. Smoke inhalation. Mad dash for their lives.

Carlos was still deeply asleep, for which T.K. was grateful. His boyfriend had drifted off in his arms somewhere around three am and T.K. had quickly followed. He managed to extricate himself without waking Carlos and pulled on some clothes before he headed out to the kitchen in search of painkillers. 

Sun was just filtering in the windows, the day already bright and clear. It was incredible how the world could continue to turn, even when everything had just crashed down around you. T.K. found some Advil, leaving it out on the counter, knowing it was likely that Carlos would be in need of some too. Then he moved their now clean, damp clothes from the washer to the dryer. They’d need to go out today and get some essentials. 

“T.K.?” Mateo asked in surprise as he appeared at the base of the stairs.  “I thought you and Carlos made up?” He paused and frowned in confusion. “Is that my shirt?”

T.K. sighed and launched into an edited version of the night’s events. “Dude,” Mateo said when he finished, a stunned look on his face. “Man that sucks. I’m glad you guys are all right.”

“Yeah, us too,” T.K. said.

“And listen, my house just totally blew up too. It was a rental, so not quite the same, but if you guys need help with any part of this process just let me know. You can borrow my car or laptop or whatever you need.”

“Thanks Mateo,” T.K. said gratefully.

There were footsteps on the stairs and Carlos appeared, eyes bleary and swollen, curls a disheveled mess. There was still a heaviness about him, but he looked better than the night before.

“Hey,” he said, wrapping an arm around T.K.’s waist and giving him a kiss, lingering slightly longer than their normal morning peck. “Hi Mateo.”

“Hey Carlos. T.K. told me about your place, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s definitely not ideal,” Carlos said with a sigh.

“Did you sleep okay?” T.K. asked.

Carlos nodded, then winced. T.K. reached for the bottle of Advil and poured him a glass of water. “Thanks,” Carlos said, swallowing down two pills.

“Did you call your captain?” T.K. asked as Mateo grabbed a protein bar and vacated the kitchen to give them some privacy.

“Yeah he’d already heard. Told me to take the time I need.”

“Good,” T.K. said.

The dryer buzzed. “That’s our clothes,” T.K. said, getting up to retrieve them. “At least you can put on a shirt that fits.”

He tossed Carlos his shirt and pants. Carlos stared down at them, a frown on his face. “You okay?” T.K. asked.

“Why did you throw a shirt at me?”

“What?”

“Last night. We were about to be burned alive and you made me put a shirt on.”

“Oh,” T.K. thought for a second and shrugged as he folded his sweatpants and set them on top of the dryer. “I don’t know. I guess I just…panicked. I was thinking that the temperature drops here at night and I didn’t want you to be cold when we got outside.”

“Our condo was hot as hell, but you were worried I’d be cold?”

T.K. bit his lip and shook his head, a sheepish smile growing on his face. “I don’t know, like I said I panicked. It was the first thought that came to me.”

“Well it was a good one,” Carlos said, slipping his arms around T.K.’s waist. “Standing out there all night with no shirt on would have been pretty uncomfortable.”

T.K. threaded his arms through Carlos’, hands coming to rest on his lower back. “You doing okay this morning?” he asked.

“Better,” Carlos confirmed. “Thank you. I think I just…needed to let it all out. I’m sorry about last night. My head was…”

“Hey,” T.K. shook his head. “No more apologies. No one has anything to apologize for, right?” He brushed a hand over Carlos’ cheek. “Do you want coffee? Or a smoothie?” His eyes went wide as a thought hit him. “Oh no!”

“What? What’s wrong?” Carlos asked, concern dropping over his face like a cloud. T.K.’s distress was so sudden and visceral that he pulled back slightly, eyes searching T.K.’s frame for some kind of injury.

T.K. felt his chest growing tight as anxiety gripped him. “Marlon Blendo! Oh my god, my dad is going to be so upset!”

“Whoa.” Carlos cupped his face in his hands. “I’m sure your dad will be okay. Blenders are replaceable.”

“Carlos he really loved that blender,” T.K. said seriously. 

Carlos chuckled. “Here I am, wondering all night long how we’re going to get through this and how you can be so calm when the world has literally gone up in flames, and now you’re losing it over a blender.”

“He was a really good blender!” T.K. pulled away from him and ran a hand through his hair as he took a few aimless steps, more thoughts striking him. “Oh my god my hoodies!”

“I will buy you new hoodies,” Carlos assured him.

“They won’t be the same,” T.K. groaned.

“Is this you finally freaking out?”

“I am not freaking out!” T.K.’s breathing had increased rapidly as panic spiraled through him. The sense of calm control he’d felt for the past twelve hours slowly started to slip away as reality set in. “Oh my god I’m totally freaking out. I can’t freak out, you’re freaking out! We can’t both be freaking out!”

“Hey,” Carlos cradled his face in his hand. “We’re okay? Remember? And if you need to freak out and lose it, that’s all right. It’s your turn. I’ll pull it together for a couple hours and you can melt down.”

“I don’t want to melt down, I want my shirt with the blue stripes on it. And that bergamot candle your parents gave us as a housewarming gift. Oh my god, Carlos all your spices from the market!”

“Come here,” Carlos said, pulling him into a hug, one hand holding him firmly around the waist, the other settling on the nape of his neck, thumb moving back and forth in a soothing motion.

T.K. let his forehead rest against Carlos’ shoulder, feeling more grounded by the strength of his boyfriend’s arms and the softness of his fingers. “Thanks,” he mumbled. 

T.K. took a breath as the weight of everything began to land on his shoulders. Losing their home. Almost losing each other. God, how was he only now feeling how terrible it all was? He’d truly thought he was okay until this very second. “We’re going to make it through this, right?” he asked. He’d been so sure last night, but now…

Carlos pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “Yes. We are.”

                                       XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A/N: When I started writing this, did I think it would end up in the boys having soft, sweet "we're so glad we're not dead" sex in Owen's guest room? Nope. No I did not. Is it all @bluenet13's fault that it happened? Possibly. Or possibly they're just too sexy and they couldn't help it. Idk.

[withhowsadsteps]

the singing angel (Tom Blake/1917)

its been YEARS (not literal) since i had time to write anything. and i didnt have time today either but i still wrote. sorry for any typos. i miss my boy tom and any dean content enjoy words: about 900 to 1k

- Most of the other wounded soldiers in the hospital ward were still unconscious or just in a state of deep sleep during the nights. Blake was an exception. He would keep his eyes closed just in case he had woken up from his nightmares in the trenches, not in a warm hospital bed. He had almost lost track of time, laying on the bed. Sometimes his mom visited him, but most of the time she wasn’t allowed to visit. The nurses and the doctors would tell her that Blake needed to rest. His wound still caused infernal pain and he had never felt more alone before. At least in the trenches he had Scho, but now? The only company he had were his troubled thoughts. Weeks passed and Blake’s feelings of despair and loneliness just deepened. The nurses did their jobs, but they never talked to him more than was necessary. The night she came into his life was identical to all the previous until him waking up from one of his nightmares. While clutching his eyes close and trying to steady his breathing, he heard the sweetest, most beautiful voice he had ever heard. She, whoever she was, sang quietly enough not to disturb any sleeping soldiers, but loud enough for Blake to register her words and voice. “Yet there's no sickness, toil, nor danger In that bright land to which I go” Blake opened his weary eyes slowly, afraid of what he might see. Had he died in his sleep? Was he entering heaven? His eyes adjusted to the dimmed lights of the ward. He saw a young nurse sitting beside one of the beds. She held the hand of a soldier, singing to him. For a while he just stared at her. She sounded and looked like an angel, maybe she was. For all he knew he was just seeing things, imagining. “But golden fields lie just before me Where God’s redeemed shall ever sleep I’m going there to see my father I’m going there no more to roam…” Blake heard her voice cracking and the song stopping. He noticed that the soldier’s chest had stopped moving. The nurse placed the soldier’s hand gently on the bed, laying it down near his lifeless body. Blake felt a sudden urge to weep like a small baby, but repressed his emotions, not wanting to disturb the quiet night. The nurse had been there for that poor soul when no one else was. Who was she? After that night Blake realized she was a new night shift nurse. And after that night, she always comforted the dying soldiers. And Blake always pretended to sleep just so he could enjoy her soothing singing. One night after another soldier passed away and was taken out of the ward in the quiet of the night, Blake opened his eyes. He spotted the nurse sitting on the recently emptied bed, crying softly. He felt bad, wanting to comfort her, pay her back for all that she had done. He tried to sit up, but he only managed to hurt himself and let out a quiet moan of pain. It was enough to get the nurse’s attention and she quickly came to her, wiping her tears. “Let me check your wound, lance corporal”, she told him, but he quickly stopped her. “No, it’s ok. I just… I wanted to do something to make you feel better, I guess” Blake managed to say, too distracted by her beauty to explain himself further. The nurse looked embarrassed and quickly apologized for waking him up, but little did she know that her singing, and her presence were what he waited for each night. “He just looked like my brother. I miss him. That’s all” she quietly explained and thanked Blake for even noticing her sorrow. Before anything else could be said, she heard another soldier calling out for a nurse, and in a second, she was gone. Blake’s wound slowly got better and he could now even move around the ward with the help of a nurse or with a cane. He felt freer and appreciated the fact that the nurse let him sit by the window and look at the starry sky. He did not notice her sitting down near her. “Your eyes sparkle in the moonlight” her voice filled his ears. He felt his cheeks warming up a little and a chuckle escaped his lips, a sweet smile now framing his face. “And you can smile!” “I was not sure if I'd ever be able smile again” Blake admitted.

After a moment of silence, he spoke again. “Sing to me? Please” And just like that, she started singing, calming his stormy mind. His last night in the hospital arrived sooner than he thought. Every night he spent awake with her seemed to morph time. She looked exhausted. “I cannot wait to get out of the night shift” she admitted. “Especially because someone is getting out and leaving me here” the nurse then added, with a playful smirk on her face. Blake just shook his head slightly before realizing that this was very likely his last chance to ask her on a date, ask her to see him again. “This does not have to be the last time you see me” “Are you asking me out, lance corporal?” “Only if you start calling me by my name” “That’s a deal, Tom”

[tomtenadia]

Island Dreams - Chapter 3

Hi all and welcome to chapter 3.

So, thing are starting to happen and, alas, angst has decided to come and pay a visit. I used HoF for a bit of inspiration.

Some Gaelic for you: suidh sìos - sit down

The light issue at the very beginning: Yes, in Scotland, in the summer, it can get quite difficult to sleep. Day are super long and it's easy to have light until late and back again at 3am.

I have read it twice before posting. But I had a very long day at work and if I have left some typos I apologise.

Happy reading!

------

Aelin had woken up early that morning. She had forgotten to close the curtains the previous night. She had gotten home quite late from her trip and she was grateful that the supermarket stayed open until late because she still had to buy food for the house. She had whipped up a quick dinner, a shower and then she had tucked herself on the chair in her room. It was so bright outside that she could not force herself to go to bed. Eventually tiredness caught up with her and she gave up. Because she forgot to close the curtains, now it was broad daylight even if it was just 4am. She rolled on the other side and tucked her head under the pillow and went back to sleep. She awoke again two hours later. Apparently the adrenaline of being in a new place was too much. So she got up and decided she could go for a run. She donned her running clothes and she left the house. She had spotted a place called Lews castle and from the map it seemed the perfect place for a run in a park. Aelin followed the marina cut through the town centre, passed Rowan’s shop and ended up near the river. Then crossed the small bridge to reach Lews’ castle grounds. Quickly she took a mental note of the fact that the place was a museum and added it to the list of places to visit, which by the way was getting longer by the minute and kept running a good hour until her body started to protest. The day was gorgeous again and they were blessed with a stunning blue sky. Aelin ran found her way back to a road that took her on a pier along the sea. Finally decided to sit at the bench and relaxed a bit, taking a full mouthful from her water bottle. In London she had little chance of running in parks so she had to use a gym but here… she could run in the nature and it made all the difference.

A few elderly people greeted her as they passed the bench and that was something else that stunned her. Complete strangers greeting her. She removed the headphones from her ears and decided to listen to the sounds of the place around her. She had always considered herself a die-hard city girl. Someone who could never leave the hustle and bustle of the big city. Her soul craved the frenetic life that London gave her. And now, in her early thirties, with her life completely upside down and on pause she was starting to realise that things had changed so much from when she was young. All of sudden her priorities had turned and a quiet life was all she wanted. She needed to slow down. Her ambition had helped her to secure a position quite high in her job. But that ambition had not helped her to reach the top. She had literally given her life to her job. She had sacrificed so much and it had been all for nothing and came to the realisation that she felt lost. For the first time in her life she could not see the path ahead. And that was why she had left. To try and live day by day for a while and learn to enjoy life again hoping that life in a quiet place like Stornoway would give her purpose again. “Oh Aelin, stop maudlin.” She told herself, getting fed up with the dark twist her thoughts had taken. She sighed and stood and started running again, tracing her path back to the town centre. Eventually went back to the house, took a shower and an hour later she was ready to head off to Maeve’s for breakfast. She was quite eager to taste her cakes. The woman had given her a slice of a chocolate cake the day before and Aelin had admitted it was of the best cakes she had ever tasted.

Twenty minutes later she reached the coffee shop and was happy to see that it was open. It was just about 9am and wasn’t not sure yet when life on the islands actually started. “Madainn mhath” she said, feeling like an idiot for her horrendous pronunciation. Once she noticed the shop was empty she felt better. At least she did not embarrassed herself in front of an audience. “Oh, Madainn mhath, a Aelin.” Said the woman from behind the counter “Are you here for breakfast?” Aelin took a seat at a table near the counter “Yes, but not Scottish breakfast this morning. I don’t think I can survive it tow mornings in a row.” Maeve laughed “I made some lovely apple turnovers, fancy one?” Aelin’s mouth began watering. If they were as good as the cake… “Make it two. I went for a run and I am starving.” Maeve disappeared through the back and came back a bit later with a tray with a mug of coffee and the apple turnovers. “I am going to get so fat.” She said out loud and then began tackling her breakfast and listened to the music in the background. It was a female singer and she sang in what Aelin was positive was Gaelic. Rowan was right. It was such a beautiful language and sung was even better. “Who is the singer?” “She is Julie Fowlis. She is from North Uist and sings mostly in Gaelic. She is a great singer.” The tune was slow and it seemed quite sad. “This song is called Mo Dhòmhnallan Fhèin, and it means My own Donald. It’s a sad love story.” “It’s beautiful.” She commented and corrected herself quickly “The language, I mean, not the sad love story.” “Ask Rowan and he will give you plenty of suggestions of bands you can discover if you want to listen to locals or Gaelic singers.” The woman explained and took a seat in front of her sipping her own cup of coffee. Aelin had such good vibes from the woman. She was very maternal to her and towards Rowan as well. She was curious to know more about their relationship. Something told her that it was deeper than it seemed. “And if you are still here in July you cannot miss Heb Celt. It’s a wonderful festival of Scottish music. It’s a three day event but it brings people from across all of Scotland and oversea as well. “It sounds wonderful.” “You just have to stay a bit longer.” Aelin sighed “I have been here only a day and I already feel as my soul has been stolen by these islands. I…” she paused, she felt like she could talk to Maeve. “I left my life in London for now. I needed a break before crumpling down for good.” Maeve put a hand on Aelin’s arm “As I told you yesterday, this is the perfect life. Island life here is a cure for the soul.” Said the woman squeezing the arm gently “Want to talk about it?” Aelin took a sip of coffee to gather her thoughts “Big job delusion and a bad divorce.” She did not have the mental strength to go into too much detail. It still hurt too much and Lysandra was the only person with whom she could fully talk about her life. “I feel lost and stuck.” A flicker of deep tenderness appeared in Maeve’s eyes “Sounds like you and Rowan could help each other.” Aelin whipped her head in the direction of the woman and stared at her. “He is stuck too.” That’s all Maeve volunteered. The woman stood as soon as a customer entered the shop. She greeted the man and they began a conversation in Gaelic. Aelin was staring at her empty plate and was still pondering about the comment that Maeve made about her nephew. What did she mean by they could help each other? And why was he stuck? She wanted to know more but could not ask him. He seemed like the very reserved type and she had no intention to pry. Once her plate was clear and breakfast over, she stood and was about to leave when Maeve reached her and gave her a take away cup “Could you please bring this to Rowan? He should be opening his shop now.” “Of course.” Aelin said her goodbyes to the woman and left, taking the path to Rowan’s shop. She had to buy the next books in the series anyway so she was just catching two birds with one stone. Once she got to the shop she noticed it was open. She entered and Rowan was at the counter working on the computer. “Madainn mhath.” She tried again. He looked up and noticed her and a brief and quick smile appeared on his lips but not genuine enough to reach his beautiful green eyes. “Morning to you.” He replied almost annoyed. “I bring coffee. Courtesy of your aunt.” Aelin offered him the cup but the reaction she got from him was unexpected. He glared at her “What did you say?” “Coffee from your aunt?” “How do you know Maeve is my aunt?” His tone was now tinged with anger. “She told me.” He ignored the cup of coffee and continued working as if Aelin was not even in the shop “She shouldn’t have.” “Is that a secret?” “It was not her place. And it’s definitely none of your business.” Rowan was mad. It was clear from his facial expression, but she could not understand why such a statement would make him so mad. Aelin placed the cup on the counter with a bit too much force “Don’t worry she did not reveal any big secret. Your fucking perfect life is safe.” He slammed the pen on the desk at her tone “What do you want? You delivered the coffee, your job is done.” Aelin was now fuming.”What do I want?” Her tone dripped vitriol. If he wanted a fight, she was giving him one. “I was being nice.” She put the backpack on her shoulder, ready to leave “I was here to buy the next books in the series I got yesterday. I came here to thank you as well for the suggestions you gave me yesterday because I loved every place you recommended." she took a deep breath and tried to calm her fury "And while I am here how do you say asshole in Gaelic?” She noted his reaction and she knew she had gone too far. That was her bloody problem, she had no filters and sometimes she struggled to connect brain and mouth before speaking. Something she had become pretty good at doing during her many fights with Chaol. Not her proudest moment. He left the counter and went to the shelf where she got the book the day before. He came back a moment later with three books in his hands “I don’t have the last one. I can order it.” “Leave it. I’ll order it on Amazon just to piss you off.” She really had to learn control herself. She took another deep breath “Fine, order it.” He didn’t comment and started typing on the computer. “It should be here in a week. I’ll let Maeve know. You are best chums now.” There was irritation in his voice. He was actually mad at her. “You should expect to see us skipping arm in arm around Stornoway singing bawdy songs pretty soon.” He did not like the joke. Definitely the wrong crowd. “Try and get laid. It helps the mood.” She added and hated herself seconds after it once she remembered what Maeve said. He was stuck too. “I am sorry…” Apologising right away for her horrible comment. She was a bloody idiot. “It’s £21.50” he said flatly and with no emotion in his voice. His eyes were cold and it looked like he could kill her with a stare. He kept the bag with the books for a moment and leaned forward on the counter “Don’t you dare to comment on my life ever again. You are a customer. Nothing more. You are nothing to me.” Aelin felt like crying. Yes, she had been nasty but Rowan was being cruel to her on purpose “There is nothing I can give. Nothing I want to give you.” He added when he noted her hurt expression. Then Rowan finally passed her the bag with the books “Now get out of my sight.” Aelin took the bag in silence and left the store. She walked away and left her feet to lead her. She did not notice she was back at the marina. She found a quite spot on the pier and sat down, her feet dangling. And then the tears came. And she cried. And the tears turned into heavy sobs. She took the phone and called Lysandra, but when the woman did not answered she hugged her legs to her chest and dropped her head on the knees as if to try and hold the pieces together. She was tired. And for a moment she just wanted to disappear.

Rowan was fuming. How dare she? She didn’t know anything about his life. How dare she make such a comment? He closed the store and walked quite angrily to his aunt’s coffee shop. She loved to gossip a bit too much and wondered what she had told Aelin. When he reached the shop he was glad it was not busy, that conversation did not need and audience. “Good morning, darling.” Maeve said in a cheery voice, unaware what was about to hit her. “What did you tell her?” His aunt looked at him with a confused expression. “Aelin. The new girl. You told her you are my aunt. What else did you tell her about my miserable life, eh?” “Rowan, suidh sìos.” Her tone had a hint of command. Her face lost the loving and caring side and Rowan knew he was in trouble. So he obeyed her and sat down at the table like she commanded. “I did not tell her anything. I just told her that you are my nephew. I did not know that was a secret.” She was definitely not happy about him. Maeve sat down in front of him “What did you do?” He looked away, shying away from the conversation. Maeve sighed “Rowan, she is going through a tough moment in her life. Be nice to her. Be nice to each other. She seems like a lovely woman. Why don’t give yourself a second chance?” He still did not answer. “She is just as lost as you are. If you only stopped being mad at the world all the time, she might be the person to show you the way back, both of you.” He was stunned by his aunt’s words. It sounded like Aelin and Maeve really had become good friends already and that his aunt already knew a good deal about the woman. But there was no way he was letting anyone else in again. Not after… he pushed the name away. Even after almost a year it still hurt too much to talk about her. No, he was going to live the rest of his life on his own and on his own terms. “Don’t interfere.” He finally managed “It’s my life. I’ll decide what is best for me. And if my destiny is to become a lonely, grumpy old man, so be it.” He gritted his teeth and fisted his hands cooling down his anger. “I know you still hurt because of what Lyria did. But it has been almost a year…” “Don’t…” he hissed “Don’t ever say her name in front of me. Ever again.” “Rowan…” Maeve put a hand on his arm but he pushed her away. Maeve stood and looked at her nephew stone faced “Mrs MacIver asked me if you can order these for her grandson. It’s his birthday quite soon.” And she passed a note to him. “Fine.” He took the note and stood. “Find the way back, my darling.” Maeve said to him once he was at the door. He ignored the comment and left without a reply.

[thesolotomyhan]

Narcos México: Dating them would include: (2/7)

Alright! I just want to say really quick, thank you for the support and love from all of you corazones de melon. Sorry this took so long but part 2 of the head cannons is here! Please don’t be mad at me😅 and I hope you enjoy this one as well! 💕

Warnings: NSFW! 

I’m already sobbing, I’m so soft for my Arellano Boys ok

GOD, Benjamin is such a romantic King

You’ve made him weak in the knees ever since he first laid eyes on you

You are the reason he keeps pushing everyday and the reason he wants to be so successful

No quiere que te haga falta nada en la vida ,,, he wants to be the one you lean on and vice versa,, I’m crying 🥺

LOOK, Benjamin’s goal with you is to just make you happy and build a family with you because tu eres el amor de su vida

He’s so stupidly in love with you it’s heart-wrenching,,

I just-,,, he has the biggest heart eyes for you, you’re doing literally anything and he’s falling in love with you all over again

For Benjamin, family comes first, we’ve seen that, so he HAS to know what you’re doing, where you're going, when your coming back, call him to know you got there safely,,, Every single day

He’s a Protective King ™ , sue me

GOD, do not get me started on how he would get when your pregnant-

He will loose his fucking mind if you don’t tell him where your going today

He can’t help but panic if he has no clue where your at, because in his defense, Tijuana is dangerous

It’s obviously no secret that your his soft spot, especially with that look he gives you when you walk into the room as if you just hung the stars

He separates his business work with your private lives because he doesn’t really want you to be so close with the dangerous business, he wouldn’t like having that weight on your shoulders

I can’t,,, I don’t know why but,, look, you want to take care of this man so imagine taking him lonche everyday🥺

Like, imagine coming into his office with his container of lonche and he’s just softly smiling at you as he makes room for you to sit on his lap

He’s always scolding you though, for coming to visit him but how is he going to deny you the food you made for him-

And Even though he doesn’t like to show as much PDA in front of his workers, (because he believes it’s more intimate in privacy,) he still can’t help himself but give in to you

Cue forehead kisses and giving you a loving smile when you come and visit him at the warehouse

We’ve also seen how Benjamin can stress tf out when business doesn’t move fast and smoothly

And everyone in the family knows that your the only one to clear his mind and make him smile, make him relax

Like Whenever Benjamin is on the verge of bursting a blood vessel, Enedina is already calling you a car to get you there ASAP

Like, that time the Sinaloans trashed his supply truck with the pig and he’s swearing about “putos sinaloenses”

Just arriving at the right moment and going up to him and dragging him away as you grab his cheeks and making him focus on just you to calm him down as you play with the ends of his hair, ugh 🥺

Everybody swears your a present sent from god himself,, like sighs of relief are being let out when you arrive

Anyways, before I get too carried away-

He’s not a big fan of taking you to fancy restaurants and such

He believes that the gestures of simple love is the way to go, he doesn’t think giving you the extravagant gifts can compare and show how much he loves you

Don’t get me wrong though, he’ll buy you something really nice and heartfelt when your both celebrating something like an anniversary or something

But he prefers a special homemade dinner in the privacy of your own home, es mucho mas especial

But He shows his love physically, like every morning and night he tells you how much he loves you

“No soy nada sin ti, mi amor” uggh I can’t-

It is his TOP priority to always give you a good night and good morning kiss on your lips , he can’t keep away from your soft lips on his-

He also needs to just be touching you whenever you're near, it makes him feel secure that your safe right next to him

He’ll have his arm around your waist or your arms linked as he leads you around the place

You cannot tell me that y’all wouldn’t cuddle when you sleep, like it’s so comfortable for you because your sleeping on his chest, but for him it’s a sense of security because he’s keeping you safe while you sleep🥺

One of his favorite parts of the day is coming home to you, it’s the time where he can let go of himself and just. b r e a t h e

This man will never admit it out loud but he feels so damn proud of himself whenever he accomplishes something, like the time he convinced Miguel to input more coke through his plaza and your just so proud of him for being able to do that

Ya’ know you’re loving up on him and constantly praising him, his heart just fucking soars

Ooohhh, being best friends with Enedina because she just fucking adores how with just one look from you, Benjamin is following you like a lost puppy

I can just see how she’ll want to take you out for a girls day and leaving behind a grumpy and pouty Benjamin,, she’s definitely throwing that shady, smugly smile at him

Ah shit, I can imagine as he’s watching you both leave, Ramon or Francisco’s ass is walking up behind Mín and just smugly saying

“Pues, ya embarazala, cabrón, para que tienes a alguien que te destrae”

The LOOK Benjamin throws because the fucking Audacity

My heart hurts,, I just know Benjamin would be one to hug you from behind, and kiss your neck as he murmurs just how much he fucking adores and loves you

Can you just imagine, the way he would look at you in the morning as your putting on his shirt to go make breakfast, I’m crying

DomesticSoft Benjamin makes me ugly sob

Your relationship is so full of soft love, it’s just- chefs kiss👌

NSFW:

Again, I’m sobbing,, sex for Benjamin is something he will take seriously, he’s only comfortable with what your comfortable with

The KING of the softest but earth shattering sex

Benjamin is taking his time undressing you, he’s not one to rush into things even though he’s desperate to be inside of you

He’s definitely kissing newly exposed skin every time he takes an article of clothes off of you

Once he’s level with you, in between your thighs, your already throwing your head back before he’s even touching you, like you already know how he’s going to make you feel

this man loves eating you out while your pulling and running your fingers through his hair

He’s humming into your core and looking at how your losing your mind, he gets drunk off that feeling

Like he’s also on the verge of coming right then and there just by the way your saying his name

Every time you both have sex, he HAS to make you cum at least twice with his mouth, I’m sorry I don’t make the rules

He’s the one that while your coming down from your high, he’ll kiss trails up your stomach, to your neck, and finally your lips

Benjamin is one to grab hold of your hand with your fingers intertwined and rest them near your head as he pushes into you

GOD, he rests his forehead on yours as you both let out breathy moans and stare into each other - wow

“Mirate, mi hermosa mujer, te ves tan bella aquí en nuestra cama, solo para mi”

Like I said, EYE CONTACT is a must,

If you even try to close your eyes from how good he’s making you feel, he’s gently grabbing your face and in a demanding husky voice he’s saying

“Mirame” -wow👀

he lives for seeing how you react to his movements, ok

One of Benjamin’s favorite positions is you writhing below him with one of his hands gripping your thigh around his hip while the other hand is either, 1) gripping your hand or 2) grasping the sheet near your head

He loves the sight of you being on top of him as well, like he’s sitting up, gripping both of your hips as his thumb stimulates your clit as your trying to bounce to meet his thrusts

Your biting your lip as your nails are digging into his shoulders, just so many emotions are being thrown around the two of you-

Or he’s laying completely on his back while you’re bouncing on top of him, scratching down his chest-

What. A. View.

Look, Benjamin needs to know he’s actually making you feel good🥺, so he’s pulling out all the tricks when you try to stifle your mewls,

it’s music to his ears when he hears you let out the noises that he’s making you feel

He loves watching how your body literally shakes when he brings you to your orgasms, mi diosa, is all he thinks about as he intensely watches you

I can see that’s there’s times where you come to drop off his lonche, like any innocent day as you take your place on his lap,,

And you’re trying to tell him this crazy scene you saw on your way to his office but all he responds with are hums that he’s listening to you as his hand travels in between your thighs and he’s kissing down your neck and shoulders

Like, look at his fucking fingers...

Your squirming because like, the blinds to his office aren’t even fucking closed but by the looks of it, Benjamin isn’t one bit worried

“Amor, sigue diciéndome lo que viste”

As he’s pushing a finger into you,

Ok, wow,

this just leads to sneaky office desk sex, where you’re both trying your best to stay quiet because Benjamin was being needy and couldn’t keep it in until he was home

But lemme tell ya, when parties are being thrown at Roxanne, this man is making you scream in his office because

“Nadie nos escucha, amor”

He just gets a fucking hard on imagining you on his desk, with your legs spread, chanting his name- ok

But so far, you’ve both done a surprisingly good job of no one finding out

*Stress Relieving Blowjobs*

I can see this happening when he comes home fuming and cussing about some bs his workers pulled

or at his office where he would hole himself up in, like the grumpy Mín we know

All I know is that your just walking up to him where he’s seated and giving him a shoulder rub as you move to stand in front of him

You slowly get down to your knees as you capture his fiery attention,

“Relájate, mi amor, solo dame tu atención”

While you're pulling his cock out and giving him the best blow of his life

Like what a truly beautiful sight, his head is thrown back as he lets out low grunts

He definitely got teased once by Enedina once you left him on cloud 9 in his office after his temper tantrum, she’s just all like,

“Qué? Necesitabas que tu esposa viniera a chuparte para que puedas volver a funcionar?”

Again, with the annoyed look he throws her

You cannot tell me otherwise that this man will pepper your face in kisses post sex, praising how good you were and how much he loves you

He will caress your back as you fall asleep on his chest and he just closes his eyes as he breathes in your scent because, wow, he’s that King 👑

You are his queen, so you best believe he’s going to take care of you and make your love as passionate as he can

[joy1579]

My RFA + Saeran NSFW head cannons

this is probably the only NSFW stuff I’ll write. its difficult since I’m not really into actual NSFW. ya know. mostly i just want my baby boys happy healthy and loved. I’m more about chaste kisses and platonic cuddles than anything else. still every once in a blue moon I have my moments so here’s my thoughts on the RFA + saeran 

oh also master list 

and I’m putting it under the cut for obvious reasons

Jumin

-        Light BDSM no intentional pain

-        Mostly bondage and calling you his favorite pet

-        Treats you like his most prized possession

-        He is all about giving you everything you want

-        Is quiet and methodical at first but slowly loses himself

-        Absolutely gets off on your noise

-        Probably enjoys watching you just as much as he enjoys participating

-        Doesn’t intentionally mark you but the occasional love bite happens if he’s not careful

-        Takes his time, you get there several times before he even starts his part of the journey

-        He’s committing you to memory every single time

Yoosung

-        Loves when you ride him

-        Will absolutely mark every part of you that you let him

-        quick recovery, and multiple rounds

-        literally incapable of coherent speech

-        loves your dirty talk though

-        bites his lip a lot sometimes you worry he’ll bite too hard

-        he has a praise kink 100% all day everyday

-        shy about saying it but thinks the idea of getting caught is exciting

-        really wants to do what you tell him ;)

-        so much cuddling afterwards also more praise so much praise

Saeyoung

-        he does not take off his cross necklace

-        likes when you sound frustrated

-        tends to stop right before you get their just to tease you

-        plays dumb until you say EXACTLY what you want him to do

-        probably still doesn’t do it right away because you didn’t ask nicely enough

-        it’s all a big game and he enjoys having the upper hand

-        wants you to say his real name. a lot.

-        He really likes when you bite his shoulder (it means he’s doing a very good job)

-        Probably wears the bite mark as a badge of honor (much to your horror)

-        after care is a huge deal for both of you expect lots of gentle reassuring kisses

Zen

-        stamina for days

-        he is into body worship you cannot stop him when he gets into it

-        zero regard for time and place, expect closets bathrooms dressing rooms all of it

-        he’s not into marking (his looks are part of his job he can’t risk that no matter how much he really wants to wear your love bites)

-        probably lifts you up against walls a lot

-        likes to hear your breathy voice whispering in his ear

-        is really proud of how disheveled you look afterward

-        kisses literally everywhere

-        he knows all your weak spots and will exploit that knowledge to tease you in public

Jeahee

-        follows your lead at first since it takes her a while to open up

-        bites her lip and tries to keep quiet if you top

-        hushes you and giggles at your sounds if she’s top

-        wants to give as good as she gets

-        likes when you kiss her neck

-        is VERY private, mention bedroom stuff in front of anyone and you’re in the dog house

-        likes when you go down on her best (probably holds your head in just the right place)

-        she does actually enjoy taking the lead once she’s warmed up

-        low sex drive if not encouraged (like maybe once a week if you don’t initiate it but don’t worry once you initiate she is down to clown)

-        bedroom only (except once in the office but she couldn’t relax enough to get there so yeah bedroom only)

Saeran

-        he is dominate. Always. (submission is NOT fun for him)

-        Makes you promise he’s the only one you’ll ever be with

-        Bruises from his fingers on your thighs and bite marks on your shoulder

-        A Safe word is a MUST so is a safe signal for both of you in case you need a break or he needs to calm himself down

-        Light choking (nothing extreme and you talked about it before hand hence the safe signal)

-        AFTER CARE AFTER CARE AFTER CARE

-        He knows he’s rough and you have to pull him out of guilt tripping himself afterwards

-        “I would have used the safe word if I didn’t like it”

-        Lots of reassurance and cuddling as both of you come back to yourselves

-        Even after recovery you can see a bit of shift between “unknown saeran” and “ray saeran” in this area

[waywardfacegarden]

burning embers

Modern Au: Zuko centric + The Gaang + Zukka + Friendship/Family feels + Angst and Fluff.

Summary: Zuko learns the meaning of love.

Read on Ao3 here.

.

There’s something so tragically painful about falling in love, they say.

But Zuko wouldn’t know. He doesn’t know what falling in love with someone is, he doesn’t know what it feels like. Love is a concept so alien to him; he can’t even grasp the root of it. He just knows a broken home, the remaining ashes of a devastating, blazing fire that was supposed to be his father’s love.

He doesn’t know what love is. And yet, he understands: the underlying and heart-wrenching agony that comes with loving. The sorrow that comes with it; it is just there, intrinsically linked. It’s something that the small kid—full of unknown love and golden warmth, but also deep, bitter pain—comprehends at the tender age of 11.

It’s just common knowledge for him, the same way he knows the sky is blue and the sun hides at night.

Family. Love. Father.

Those words don’t have meaning, Zuko thinks, lying on his bed one night, still hearing the disappointment in his father’s voice echoing in his ears in the quiet darkness of his room. They’re there, of course. And he knows them. He can say them. But they feel far away, slipping through the space between his fingers, becoming dust that blows away with the chilly wind of an autumn midnight, escaping him before he can place what was there in the first place.

They don’t hold weight. They don’t mean anything. They’re shallow; they just exist, like a couple of letters strewn together, like when you say your name so many times in a row it doesn’t even feel right anymore; but, he supposes only a few people are blessed with their significance, with tasting them in their mouth with something not akin to hate or bitterness or emptiness.

Loneliness. Despair. Dishonor.

Those have meaning. Those have weight, despite being such empty words.

(But they very much taste like something akin to hate, too—and that’s the thing.

Maybe Zuko just doesn’t know anything aside from [self-]hate.)

.

.

Family, love, father. They are concepts that come alive to him the same way a phoenix is born.

They rise, awakening from the ashes that the fire within themselves has burned to death; so beautiful, so mystical, so mesmeric and so incredibly fragile and precious and wondrous, like a mythological creature coming back to life after having known its own death.

He learns the words and their meaning the same way his brain starts learning new things and concepts by reading a book; but he doesn’t learn with his mind—even though a part of him knows that this is where knowledge is stored—Zuko learns with his heart (he has always learned things best with his heart; after all, Zuko wears it on his sleeve; he’s emotional, visceral, volatile—his feelings are way too intense, too much that they burn his chest open; he’s always aflame), with his eyes, with his hands. He learns it in every little gesture that’s given to him, in every little crack (that keeps filling and filling and filling) of the time that goes on, in every little drop of ink that is spilled on the parchment where his life is being written.

He learns the words in the way he begins learning his uncle's tea recipes, in the satisfaction and pride he feels when his uncle congratulates him for a job well-done on a warm, quiet Saturday afternoon as he finishes helping cleaning and serving the tables around the teashop, in the way his favorite cup sits next to his uncle's on the kitchen counter in the mornings, full of Zuko’s favorite bubble tea; he learns them in the ugly, endearing, oversized sweater hanging at the back of his closet, the one his uncle gave him in his last birthday; he learns about love in the gentle smiles of weekends, in the singing of the birds outside his room’s window, in the blanket that rests around his shoulders when he is sitting on the comfy couch on a calm Thursday night, dozing off while trying to study for an English test, in the way the nightmares that used to haunt him are tormenting him less and less every time; he learns the meaning of father in his uncle's ridiculous pajamas, full of tiny drawings of cherry blossoms and tea leaves, in his uncle’s obsession with Pai Sho, and in the wise phrases he keeps throwing at Zuko even when he cannot fully understand them.

He learns, little by little, step by step, like a slow fire burning inside his guts.

And it's a weird, strange thing. Zuko learned that fire hurts you, the same way he learned that love does, but somehow, after years of building his new life, it doesn't feel that way anymore.

His uncle is patient with him. Patient as someone who would teach someone else origami or as someone who’s slowly writing a book. He teaches him, sees him fall, stumble and trip over his feet (both, metaphorically and literally speaking) and he’s there when Zuko gets up again.

It’s a nice feeling. Knowing that someone is going to be there, even if you fall. Even when you fail.

His uncle teaches him, the same way he creates a new tea receipt for the menu; carefully, gently, ever so softly. He takes Zuko, the broken child who looks at him through his pain and hatred, and makes him open his eyes. He points out, over and over and over again, that failing is not a bad thing, that love exists and that it doesn't have to hurt, and that if it does, you can heal from it; he teaches him that Zuko is full of it, full of love, he says that he’s always been.

Somehow, it feels a bit like healing. Of course, Zuko is still broken. Probably, a part of him always will be; but, somehow, he doesn't think that being a bit broken is so wrong now.

.

.

Friendship was a foreign concept to him, too. Or maybe not, but Zuko never wanted to get involved with it.

Too much trouble.

(Or maybe fear—fear of what it carries, what it holds in its nature; fear of failing, of not being enough, of being left out, of getting too attached.)

But just as Zuko was wrong about so many things in his life, this is not the exception.

He comes to learn that, too.

It’s a different process than with his uncle. Maybe because it’s slower, or maybe because it’s, rather, faster. Maybe because he wasn’t aware he was learning at all.

Zuko doesn’t know exactly when it starts. Can’t pinpoint the exact moment he started getting involved. Not that he cares much about that at this point, but he would like to know.

They kind of adopt him in their group (or, er, gang, as they call it), without Zuko noticing. But to be fair, Zuko doesn’t notice a lot of things.

Toph is a friend of his Uncle, and she lives near the teashop, so she’s around more time than she’s not; she’s loud and kinda rude, and always calls Zuko a dork or a nerd or an idiot, but Zuko realizes he likes when she’s there. Aang comes along sometimes, with his scarily bright smile. There’s also Katara and her big brother, Sokka.

He likes all of them, to his extreme surprise. They’re all good people. Aang is way too kind, Katara may be scary but she’s pretty cool, and Sokka is just a combination of a very, weirdly endearing, smart dumbass, which is, uh, new.

He honestly doesn’t know how it happened, or when it happened, but suddenly he’s tucked under a soft fuzzy blanket in winter, sandwiched in the middle of the three-spot sofa, with Aang almost laying over his lap. He’s almost sitting on Sokka’s right leg, pressing him against the arm sofa, his side overlapping with Sokka’s. He doesn’t seem to mind, though. He’s sitting there, cross-legged, with his right arm fully extended on the back of the sofa, almost like he’s hugging Zuko’s shoulders; he’s practically leaning on Zuko.

His arm and his side are really warm, though. Not as much as Zuko generally is, but it’s… kind of nice.

“Katara, Titanic is a classic, dude. What the hell.”

Zuko takes a sip from his hot chocolate, blowing off the clouds of steam gathering over the cup—the warmth of it is pretty welcomed in his throat, to be honest, while Katara rolls her eyes at her brother.

“I’m not watching that for the fifth time in a month and seeing you and Aang both cry for an hour later after the already three long hours of the movie.”

Sokka looks pretty indignant about Katara’s attitude towards his (probably) favorite movie, which is pretty amusing.

“You’re just a monster,” Sokka says, dramatically, “that’s why you don’t cry.”

Katara rolls her eyes again.

“I don’t know,” Toph says, from the couch closer to the TV, sprawled all comfortably over it. “It’s actually a really funny movie,” she points out, and then draws out her voice. “‘Jack, draw me like one of your French girls’.”

Aang laughs pretty loud, and Zuko smiles at the bad impersonation despite himself.

“Well, My Heart Will Go On is my anthem.” Sokka says, puffing out his chest.

Zuko actually snorts into his cup and Sokka shoots him a look. He remembers the time Aang and Sokka recreated that iconic scene, with Toph singing at the top of her lungs in a ridiculously obnoxious voice. He actually laughed at that.

Sokka seems to read his mind, because after a few moments of staring at Zuko’s face, his entire expression lights up. He grins, eyes sparkling, and starts singing really loud and purposely out of tune. Aang starts laughing and Toph doesn’t waste time on joining Sokka in singing. Even Katara smiles.

A few minutes later of terrible singing, they’re all laughing. Toph is cackling so hard she’s on the floor, and Sokka keeps leaning over him, laughing in his ear. He believes it should be annoying, but instead of that, it’s actually infectious and Zuko laughs a bit harder.

After they calm down, Toph is clutching at her sides and Sokka is wiping tears out of his eyes.

Aang smiles, then, softly and content, and raises a hand in the air, like asking for permission to talk.

“I have an idea.” He says, and turns around to look at him. “Why don’t we just let Zuko decide? He hasn’t chosen anything yet for our Friday movie nights.” 

All eyes turn to look at him at that. He stops his movements, mouth hanging open, hot cup halfway to his lips.

“Uh,” he frowns. “Thank you, but, um. Why would I choose? It’s your thing.”

Everyone stares at him like he has two heads, which, okay fair but why.

“What?”

Aang gives him a soft smile, all kind eyes and gentle features, like he’s about to talk to a baby, but before he can say anything, Sokka is putting an arm around his shoulders and leaning all his weight on him, as if they weren’t already close enough.

“This is your thing as much as it is ours, dude.” He says, grinning, “You’re one of us.” He vaunts, proudly, and ruffles Zuko’s hair.

Katara nods, at the same time Toph goes:

“Yup, you’re already in, loser.”

Aang chuckles. “Yes, you’re our friend, Zuko.”

Zuko blinks, stunned.

That’s… 

There’s… 

That’s… the F-word.

Friend.

Friend.

Huh? What? How? When did that happen? Huh? Did he miss something in the past few months?

Sokka, completely oblivious to his emotional turmoil, insistently points to the TV while squeezing him. "So, buddy? Don't you think we should watch Titanic to cry and share a couple of very male tears?"

"You only want to watch it because you have a crush on both Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio." Katara accuses.

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yes, you do! You even still keep that poster of them behind your…"

"Katara!!!!"

.

.

Friend.

It’s a nice word.

It tastes like hot chocolate in his mouth on a cold night, it sounds like Sokka’s laugh and Toph’s jokes, and it looks like Aang’s kind eyes and Katara’s nice smile.

It feels like something. It holds meaning. It’s not an empty word. At all.

Sokka’s hand ruffling his hair or over his shoulders, Toph’s nicknames for him, Aang’s offer of help in times he feels like Zuko needs it, Katara’s help with homework and advice on his recipes doesn’t let him forget that. ‘Friend’ is never going to be an empty word.

Friend tastes like hope, like warm food and bear-hugs.

Friend is such a nice word.

.

.

The thing with Zuko being generally—and strangely—warm all the time is that summer is a complete nightmare for him.

He's sitting directly in front of the fan at full power, barefoot in just jeans and a light T-shirt, and yet he still feels like he's going to explode. The weather forecast in the morning heralded a heat wave in midsummer, and it's exactly the worst thing in the world that could happen to Zuko's already overheated body. Toph groans beside him, lying with her arms and legs spread like a starfish on the cold ground. It is no comfort to her, however, and Zuko can understand that well.

Katara is looking at something on her phone, fanning herself with a magazine, and Aang remains practically unaffected, just as energetic as ever as he eats the remaining watermelon slices from the bowl they recently filled.

Zuko is wondering if he should go, or if he should fall asleep on the freezing ground that doesn't seem to be freezing at all, when Sokka walks into the living room in his baseball uniform. He has just returned from his morning summer practice; sweat is running down the side of his face, and his shirt is partly sticking to his body from the moisture. He smiles at everyone in greeting before gulping down all that's left of the water on the bottle of his hand. Zuko stares at his Adam's apple bob while he's drinking, and then his eyes trail the trickle of water that slides down his jaw over his desperation to drink all the water so fast. The drop goes down, down, down, dripping over his collarbone and sinking into his neck until it eventually gets lost somewhere inside his shirt. Sokka throws the bottle over the trash can and uses his shirt collar to wipe the water and some of his sweat off his face. Zuko's eyes unconsciously move downward; he can see a line of skin on Sokka's abdomen and stomach.

He swallows. Uh. His mouth is suddenly very dry. He's probably dehydrated. Is he dehydrated? He's starting to feel a little dizzy.

"So? Beloved friends, beloved little sister? Did you miss me? Obviously, you did."

Katara rolls her eyes, but still asks, "How was practice, dumbass?"

"It was cool! I hit twelve curve-balls in a row and sixteen of that weird fastball Suki pitches. Oh! And I'm finally getting the thing about that forkball. Also... woah, Zuko, are you okay?!"

Zuko blinks from where he was staring at Sokka's hair. It's kind of wet. Is that sweat? Shouldn't that be gross? Why is Zuko staring? Does he find it gross? He doesn't think so, but he also can't quite explain why...

"Woah, bud," Sokka says, kneeling in front of him and getting dangerously close to his face. "You're so red, are you having heatstroke or something? Do you feel dizzy?" He leans on his knees and presses a hand to his forehead, pulling up the bangs hanging over it. It feels nice, actually. Sokka's soft hand on his boiling skin feels like fresh water. He kind of wants to lean into it.

He probably does, because Sokka frowns. "Maybe you have a fever..." His mouth presses into a thin line. "Don't you want to take a shower to cool off? I can lend you some clothes, we're about the same height, they'll fit."

Zuko blinks. Huh?

"Here, let me help you." Sokka says, helping him up.

Around an hour later, Zuko feels a lot better, laying with his back on the floor in Sokka's baggy shorts and blue T-shirt with a cartoonish drawing of The Pink Panther. Zuko smiles involuntarily when he looks at it. It smells a bit like Sokka, or at least the detergent he uses. That makes his stomach do weird flips. He's not feeling that hot anymore, but maybe he is getting sick...

"Hey," Sokka tells him, looking at him from above, standing just behind Zuko's head. His toes are barely avoiding touching Zuko's sprawled hair on the floor.

"Hey," Zuko answers back, looking up at Sokka's soft face. His hair is down and still wet from the shower, and a few drops fall on the bridge of Zuko's nose when Sokka hovers over him. Zuko's face scrunches up, more out of involuntary reaction than out of bother, but Sokka chuckles.

"Sorry," he says, not sounding sorry at all. He uses the towel around his neck to messily dry his hair. "You look a lot better, now."

"Yes," Zuko muses, still a bit mesmerized by Sokka's wet hair. And Sokka's face. "Thanks."

Sokka grins brightly at him. "Sure."

He looks like he's about to say something else, but before he can say anything, Toph groans just a few feet away, sitting now on the couch. "Stop flirting and get a room already; it’s gross. We're here, too."

"What? We weren’t—"

Katara agrees, quietly.

"Hey! I was just worried!" Sokka excuses himself. "Weren't you all? His face was as red as a tomato."

Katara looks up from her magazine and gives him a pointed look, with one elegantly arched brow. Apparently, she doesn't even need to say anything else, because it's enough to make Sokka blush.

Oh.

He's cute, Zuko thinks. And then, oh, I think Sokka is cute. And then Sokka stomps over the kitchen muttering unintelligible things, still a faint blush over his cheeks.

Zuko smiles to himself watching his childish behavior. He is, though. He is cute.

.

.

.

It's raining heavily outside, drops pouring loudly against the asphalt of the sidewalk.

Zuko side-glances at Sokka. Maybe it's because after the course of a year, Zuko has learned to recognize many of Sokka's little gestures, or maybe it's the fact that the boy has been so much into his own mind lately, but Zuko recognizes that way he scrunches up his nose, that wrinkle between his eyebrows, that way his eyes twitch.

“Are you okay?” 

He’s asking mostly just to be polite, to be honest; he already knows he’s not. He knows something’s up.

Sokka turns to look at him, and then stares at the rain hitting the glass window of the lonely teashop.

“I’m…” He says, and looks at his hand. Then he presses his mouth into a thin line.

“You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Zuko says, awkwardly, because as much as he cares, he’s still a mess when it comes to social cues. He’s never going to stop being a mess. And terrible at comforting people.

Sokka sees right through him, though, like he always does, and smiles softly at him. His whole face mellows. It kind of makes Zuko’s heart flutter in his chest, like a butterfly flapping its wings.

“I’m…” Sokka tries again, looking at Zuko’s face. At his eyes, at his scar, at his neck. He feels weirdly exposed, but at the same time… He doesn’t. It’s just Sokka. Which means it’s okay. “Scared, I guess.”

Zuko blinks and tilts his head to the side. He’s not sure if he should ask, but…

“Of?”

Sokka gives him a wry smile.

“Of failing? Of disappointing my dad? Of not being enough? I don’t know, I can’t quite pick a single one.”

Sokka’s voice is not quite bitter, but it feels like that, in the air around them. Zuko knows the feeling pretty well.

“You are enough.” Zuko affirms, without a single trace of hesitation in his voice. Because Sokka is enough, in every single aspect, and he shouldn’t feel like any less than that. Zuko’s also aware of what he’s worrying about, and for Zuko, it’s just absurd—Sokka is one the very few people that shouldn’t worry about passing the entrance exam of college at all, he’s crazy smart. He should know that. But, to be fair, Zuko can’t judge him nor scold him for self-doubt when it used to be all that he was, along with his self-hate. So he says it out loud, looking into Sokka’s wide, surprised eyes. “You’re also really smart, Sokka, I’m sure you’re going to ace the entrance exam. You shouldn’t worry.”

Sokka rolls his eyes, but he also adopts that playful-kinda-flirty side of him. It’s painful because Zuko can see the sadness underlying in his voice and body language so clearly. Can see the lack of confidence in every single motion.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“I am,” he agrees, “but it doesn’t mean it isn’t true. I really believe so. You’re the smartest person I know. You’re very capable of doing whatever you want, so have faith in yourself just like I have faith in you.”

Once he says it, and Sokka blinks once, twice, thrice at him, Zuko feels painfully aware (and painfully embarrassed) of what he just said.

Oh Lord, what did he actually…

“Ah,” Sokka says, and makes a face that Zuko can’t name. “You’re blushing.”

Zuko covers his cheeks with both hands. Sokka is probably right, they’re so warm, but still.

“I’m not.” Still.

Sokka laughs, and raises both eyebrows. “You sure?” He asks, staring pointedly at his face, which only makes him blush harder.

Stupid Sokka.

He must know the effect he’s having on him, because he laughs again, lightheartedly. Well, at least he’s not upset anymore…

“I’m not,” he uselessly and pathetically insists, even when it’s tragically obvious he is. But he has some pride, okay.

Sokka grins, but it’s all devilish. It makes Zuko’s hair stand on end. A chill runs down his spine.

“It’s just hot.”

Sokka smirks. “Sure, you’re always hot.”

“Shut up,” Zuko complains and groans, facing away from him so that he can’t see his blatant embarrassment. Sokka’s natural flirty personality wasn’t that much of a problem back then, but it’s only gotten worse, and Zuko just can’t handle it sometimes. It feels like way too much.

“Ah, but you blush when you’re embarrassed. That’s cute.” Sokka points out, a wide grin on his face. “Imagine being both cute and hot, what a crime.” 

He sighs theatrically, and Zuko is very tempted to answer, “shut up, look who’s talking,” but he knows he will just get more embarrassed after saying that. He needs to calm down. So he just grumbles while Sokka laughs.

Then, when Sokka has already calmed down and Zuko can feel his face like normal again, they look quietly at the rain, steadily keeping its pace.

“Zuko,” Sokka says, after some time, and Zuko quirks an eyebrow in reply. 

Sokka smiles. “Thank you. For believing me. It means a lot.”

Zuko smiles back. “Of course.”

.

.

Zuko notices it one night. (Though, looking back, it’s weird he didn’t notice it before.)

Well, more like, Aang notices and points it out, and then Zuko realizes that what he said is pathetically true, lying in bed at night because he still mulls things over sometimes before going to sleep.

“You know,” Aang had casually said, holding a can of orange juice, sitting next to Zuko on the bleachers at one of Sokka’s practice games. “You stare at Sokka a lot.”

Zuko frowned. “It’s his game, after all. We’re here to watch him,” he had retorted, like it was obvious.

“Well, yes, but I don’t mean only now. You stare at him all the time.”

Zuko didn’t feel like he liked where this conversation was going. Something about his expression must had given him away, or maybe Aang was just too good at reading him now, because he said:

“Wait.” He actually had sounded surprised. “You mean you’re not aware you have a crush on him?”

Zuko’s eyes went wide. “What? I don’t have a crush on him.”

Aang quirked up an eyebrow. Sure, he didn’t need to say.

“I don’t,” he had pressed on.

Aang hadn’t looked any more convinced of what he had said. If anything, he looked more convinced on what he himself had said. Aang had looked at him for a very long period of 1 minute before lightly chuckling and nudging him in the arm with his elbow, smiling brightly at him.

It was weird, but Zuko has gotten better at reading them, maybe just as much as Aang has with him. Maybe that’s why he knows what Aang means with all of that. Admit it when you’re ready.

It’s not like he was trying to deny or hide it. It’s not like he was trying to lie. He just didn’t think Aang was actually right.

But he is. Zuko can’t stop looking at Sokka, all the time. Thinking about him. About the way he smiles, with his hair up, with his hair down, with that denim jacket that fits him in all the right angles, with his baseball cap, ecstatic after he scored a run in the 8th inning. 

Sokka, practicing on the field. Grinning widely and openly and hugging him tightly when he aced the entrance exam. Leaning in to taste Zuko’s ice-cream into his own mouth. Ruffling his own messy hair. Wearing those silly cartoon t-shirts. Serenading Zuko with Electric Love and the most ridiculous voice ever on his birthday as a joke. Messy eating. Scrunching up his nose while drinking green tea. Reciting 80% of the Star Wars dialogues by heart. Being obsessed with boomerangs and swords (though not as much as Zuko is with that last one). Biting into the end of his pencil when he’s focused on writing an English essay.

Ahhhhh.

Oh, holy honor.

He has a crush. A crush. Feelings.

When did that happen? Why did that happen? He doesn’t know. Was it because of his warm eyes? His pretty smile? His pretty lips? Was it because he opened up to Zuko, let himself be vulnerable around him, bled his heart out so Zuko could piece it back together? Was it because he’s funny? Charming? Cool? Smart? Astonishingly cute? Was it because he made Zuko feel made out of thin air, sometimes, so raw and exposed but yet so safe, so comfortable in his own skin? ...That is, the others don’t necessarily make him feel unsafe, or uncomfortable. He just feels like he can be all open and vulnerable with Sokka better. Maybe because he opened up to him first, about something so personal like his mom (and Zuko knew about losing a mom, too).

Well, whatever the reason, it doesn’t exactly matter, does it? He’s already in deep.

Zuko rolls over his stomach and sighs, groaning loud into his pillow. Why, why, why, why. It’s not like he even has a chance, so why did he have to…

Ugh.

Feelings are stupid. His heart is stupid.

And the way he falls asleep thinking about Sokka’s laugh is even stupider.

.

.

The thing is, because Zuko notices all the little details in Sokka’s gestures and behavior, he also notices the way he acts differently towards… Certain people.

“Me and Yue?” Sokka laughs, and Zuko blinks. He didn’t even mean to ask it out loud. Now, he would just hear the confirmation of what he already knew from Sokka’s lips. How is that any better? Good job, Zuko. 

“Nah, man, Suki would kill me if she sees me wooing her girlfriend. Or at least kick me pretty damn hard.” Huh? Zuko blinks again. Huh? So they’re… Sokka and Yue… They’re not… 

“And believe me, she’s super strong. She kicked me once and I’ve always regretted eating that last cupcake on the fridge.” Sokka makes a face and shudders, like the mere flashback is enough to make him fear. But then he smiles, in that soft way of his that makes Zuko’s knees go really weak. “And I’m pretty sure Yue is immensely happy with her, too.”

Zuko doesn’t know what to say, so he just oh-so-eloquently utters:

“Ah.”

Sokka seems amused.

“Didn’t you know they were a thing? The PDA is so strong when they’re together, you have to have seen it.”

Well, that was… Zuko just thought they were touchy with each other? Sokka is pretty much touchy with him all the time, but that doesn’t mean they’re a thing.

Well.

“That’s rough, buddy.”

Sokka blinks. “Why?”

Zuko frowns. He tilts his head in confusion. “Because you are… Romantically attracted to her? It must be rough.”

Sokka blinks once, twice, three times. Stares. Then, he throws his head back and cackles, clutching his stomach.

“Dude, what the hell.” He wheezes. “Just say the word crush like normal people.” 

“Hmm.”

Then, when he calms down, Sokka eyes Zuko.

“Wait, what?” He says, serious all of a sudden. Or at least, surprised. “Do you really think that?” At Zuko’s lack of response, Sokka looks at him, then at his hands, then at the TV, where the video game they were playing is still on pause. Then, back at Zuko’s face. “No, I don’t have a crush on her. Or on Suki, for that matter.”

Zuko frowns. Sokka must know he doesn’t believe him, because he continues.

“I mean, I did.” He admits. “Back when I met her, when I was, like, 14. But I’m over it, now—Not that she’s not great; she’s awesome and I love her, just… Not in that way. It was just a silly teen-crush, anyway. And Suki is my best friend. We had a thing for a few months like two years ago, but we hit it off so much better as friends. She’s my bi icon, though. And bestest friend.”

“Oh.”

“Besides,” Sokka adds, and eyes him pointedly, “I’m interested in someone else right now.”

Zuko stares. Blinks.

What.

So he does have someone he’s interested in anyway. God, Zuko really doesn’t stand a chance. Why even bothering trying? And it’s not like he knows how to try something, anyway…

From the other corner of the room, Aang shoots him a very cryptic look. Zuko can’t describe what he’s thinking, but he guesses he’s taking pity on him. After all, he knows.

Ah. He really doesn’t like having feelings.

.

.

His mind is a cruel thing. It’s what keeps him up at night, what reminds him of all his insecurities, what makes him feel undeserving of love, what keeps throwing image after image into his head of his broken childhood on bad days. It’s what, as much as his heart, knows about his deepest desires, his longing, his yearning and thinks it’s amusing to play with Zuko for a bit.

“Zuko,” Sokka says, with a fragile smile on his face, his voice going ridiculously soft, his eyes warming up, and Zuko’s heart pounds on his chest like big waves crashing on the shore of a lonely beach. “Zuko, I love you.”

It’s kind of—very—criminal the way Sokka makes him feel. The way he makes Zuko’s heart seem like it’s going to burst out of his chest with how fast it beats after hearing just those three words, the way he makes Zuko’s entire soul ache and want, the way he makes him feel so grounded, so him, yet so tiny and delicate, like he’s made out of thin sheets of ice.

Is this how love feels?

Is this how it should feel like?

He wouldn’t know. He doesn’t know what falling in love is. He just knows a broken home, the destructive, neon-like, toxic obsession with power his dad had, instead of any tender form of anything else that can be called love that his dad should have had for his mom, but never did.

Falling in love is made to hurt. Falling in love is destined to make you feel sad, and alone, and unsafe.

Falling in love is a cruel thing. It’s not cut out for weak people, and Zuko is weak. He’s destined to break. He has always been made out of fragile, easy-to-destroy things.

That’s why his mind plays with him all the time.

He wakes up in his bed, opens his eyes to the dark quiet of his room, feels the way his heart beats so hard that he can almost feel it on his throat. And he feels lost. And sad.

He doesn’t even scream. He just lies there, feeling the world becoming smaller, feeling himself becoming smaller.

Lord, he’s royally fucked. Screwed. He knows. He’s destined to break.

There’s something so tragically painful about falling in love, they say.

.

.

He’s sitting with Toph leaning back on his right side, on the fluffy couch in Katara and Sokka’s living room, cutting up squares out of colorful paper.

They are both terrible in the kitchen. Something coming from being rich kids, Sokka playfully teased earlier. And he guesses it’s true. Either way, they are terrible—Zuko even burned his own kitchen once while making scrambled eggs (and that was. Not a very good day). Sure, he has tried to help Uncle Iroh a couple of times, and he knows a bit of the basics, but besides preparing tea, he’s lost. He can’t cook to save his life. So when Zuko almost lights a fire to bake cookies and mixes up the recipe for the second time, Katara kicks them out and bans them from the kitchen for the next 4 hours. Toph protests just to be annoying—she doesn’t like cooking at all, she has told him, but she loves annoying Katara, it’s her favorite idle activity. Zuko would be offended, but it’s the smartest choice if they want to finish baking Aang’s birthday cake without setting the kitchen on fire, so it’s fine.

Besides, this way he can steal a few glances at Sokka, as he hangs up the decorations he and Toph are making. The muscles under his shirt flex when he raises his arms above his head, his messy hair down from its ponytail, falling over his face when he moves a bit to the left, a line of the smooth skin of his back making its way to Zuko's curious, avid eyes.

Zuko swallows.

Toph sighs heavily and throws her head back. “So, are you planning to make a move any time this century or are you a loser?”

Zuko eyes her, coming out of his stupor, confused. “What?”

Toph smirks. “Right, you’re always a loser, my bad.”

Zuko blinks. Not because of Toph calling him a loser, but because, for a second, he really doesn’t get what she means.

Then, when he does, he buries his face into his hands and groans.

“Even you know?”

Toph laughs. "Yes, idiot, it's stupidly obvious.” She pats his arm. “I can see it and I'm blind, you know." 

Zuko groans again. He’s in physical pain right now. "How?"

She shrugs. "I don’t know. Maybe the way you say his name. Or talk about him."

Zuko feels a bit of panic. 

What? Is he that obvious? How does he say Sokka’s name?

"His name?"

"Yeah,” Toph confirms, nodding exaggeratedly, “stupidly sappy. It's gross."

"Oh my god."

She laughs again, loudly, because his suffering is apparently amusing. "You also talk about him a lot," she chuckles, "and sigh every time you see him. At least that’s what I assume, given that he’s in the room and you keep sighing like a 12-year-old girl in love. Pinning all the way.”

Zuko wants to die. He seriously wants to die. Maybe he should just tell Sokka he likes him, so when he rejects him, Zuko can just die a quick, albeit painful, death.

Toph nudges at his arm, with her typical abnormal strength for someone her age, but she doesn’t mean any harm. “So?” She asks, again. “Are you planning to make a move or not?"

Zuko sighs, "I can't do anything, he likes someone else."

Toph kind of stops where she’s fumbling with a couple of paper sheets. She then turns around and makes this face, where she’s scrunching up her nose and frowning like she just smelled something sour, or like when she’s deeply confused. "Did he say that?"

"Yes."

"Did Sokka seriously tell you that?"

Zuko’s confused at Toph’s relentless insistence. "...Yes?"

Toph’s face goes back to normal, but there’s something about the way she continues to hum that makes it seem like she still thinks Zuko is an alien, or something.

"You must have misunderstood him—which wouldn’t be a surprise, to be honest." She says the last part in a whisper, but he still hears her. That’s probably what she wanted anyway, but it’s not like he gets it. What does that mean? Zuko gets Sokka. That’s one of the few things he’s really proud of. Did he just think that he got Sokka while, all this time, he actually didn’t?

No. He understands Sokka. Sokka himself has told him that.

"No, I didn't. And I don't have a chance if he likes someone else, so I might as well not even try."

Toph looks mad. "You're super pessimistic, dumbass."

"Hmm."

She sighs, looking deeply tired and frustrated, like Zuko has completely worn her out. Then, she raises her fist and punches him. Hard.

Ouch.

Zuko yelps, and rubs at his sore arm. “What was that for?” he grumbles.

She frowns. “To punch some sense into you, big oblivious idiot!" Toph hums a low, guttural sound in the back of her throat, like she’s a feral dog trying to threaten a pedestrian. “Just try, at least. Everyone is kind of getting tired of your pinning, too."

"Ah." Everyone?

"Full offence."

"Ah."

“Even Katara. The only reason she hasn’t intervened yet is because she says it’s not her business to push you, but I don’t think her reasoning is gonna last long.”

Katara too!? Oh, no.

Zuko seriously wants to die.

.

.

Eventually, things go on. 

Zuko’s “crush” doesn’t go away. If anything, it just grows and grows and grows until it becomes almost unbearable. But he still can’t say anything.

“Zuko.”

“Hmm?”

“You know,” Sokka says, looking at him with feign innocence, sitting with his hands upwards behind him in Zuko’s room, “that looks heavy, want me to hold it for you?”

Zuko frowns. He looks up from his work to give Sokka a confused look. “What is, my pen?”

Sokka gives him that little, playful smile—the one that is so incredibly hot for some reason Zuko can’t understand. His eyes gleam, even more than they do all the time.

“Nope,” he says, and his smile grows an inch, “your hand.”

Zuko blinks. Sokka flirting with him is nothing new, that’s why he manages to hold back his blush a bit and remain calm, even when he’s a bit dying inside.

He is just trapped between telling him, “god, I wish you were flirting with me for real,” and, “please stop doing it, it’s not good for my heart,” and, “If only you knew how much I really want to hold your hand”, but neither of those options are actually. Something viable.

“Are you flirting with me?” He asks instead, knowing the answer already.

Sokka would laugh, brush it off, and say something like, “ah, but you didn’t blush this time,” and let it go.

He doesn’t, though.

What he does, instead, is shrug and look at Zuko’s textbook, like he’s completely uninterested in the conversation.

Huh.

But then he speaks up again.

“Have been for the past year and a half or so, but thanks for noticing.” He answers.

Zuko blinks. He’s tempted to answer, “yeah, I know, which is a cruel, cruel thing to do, by the way, given how my heart just wants to escape out of my chest and go with you every time you do it,” or something equally playful to play it down like they always tend to do, but… for some reason, this time it feels… Real.

Maybe he should just laugh.

He doesn’t, though, and, “What?” is what comes out of his mouth.

Sokka looks up. “I said that I’ve been doing it for a year and a half or so, thank you for finally noticing.”

Zuko doesn’t understand. He’s not following the conversation at all. “Wait.”

“Ahh,” Sokka sighs, “honestly, if you didn’t notice by the end of the month, I would have felt deeply embarrassed. I was starting to think I lost my charm and I didn’t know how to flirt.”

“Well, that was a terrible pick-up line,” Zuko can’t help but retort, and like he wasn’t mildly-insulted, Sokka grins at him.

“But it worked for you, didn’t it?” He teases, leaning on Zuko’s personal space, “it made you feel something.”

Zuko frowns. “How would you know?”

Sokka stares. “Your face.”

“My face?”

“I can see it. In your face.”

Zuko covers his mouth, frowning. He can feel his own heart race.

Sokka is still way too close.

“You can…?”

“Yup.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Zuko says, blinking. “That means—are you—are you flirting with me? For real?”

Sokka quirks both eyebrows. “Yes...?”

“But you—you…”

“Zuko, I don’t know where you got the idea, but I don’t flirt with anyone aside from you—at least, I haven’t done it in a long time. So yes, I am actually flirting with you.”

Zuko feels like he just got hit in the head. “Why?”

Sokka blinks. “Because I want to?”

“But why do you want to?”

Sokka shoots him a look. “Zuko,” he says, slowly, “I like you. I thought that was obvious already.”

Zuko blinks. “You have… romantic feelings for me?”

Sokka laughs, amused. “Yeah, Zuko, I have ‘romantic feelings’ for you.”

Zuko blinks again. He’s blinking too much. “So all this time… it was real… when you said… and that time you also said… and… oh.”

Sokka smiles, softly, and ruffles Zuko’s hair. It makes him blush. His heart might also not even work at this point, if it wasn’t for the fact that he can clearly hear it thundering in his ears.

Why is Sokka so calm? Zuko’s about to pass out.

“Katara is right, I’m dumb.”

Sokka grins. “Toph thinks so, too.”

“Toph thinks everyone is dumb.”

“Fair,” Sokka answers; he’s still grinning so wide. God, Sokka is so pretty. “Though I think she only calls us dumb, not that she means it.”

“Mmm.”

He’s so unfairly distracting, too. Zuko can’t stop looking at him.

“Wait,” He says, suddenly realizing something, “so you knew that I—that I—had feelings for you, too?”

Sokka looks at his lips when he talks, and Zuko has to concentrate hard to not straight up pass out from shock and his heart racing so fast it might give him an attack. Has he done that before? He would have noticed, right? Sure, Zuko looks at Sokka’s lips a lot instead than at his eyes, but he would have noticed if Sokka did it, too.

… Right?

He’s starting to feel dizzy. Is he dreaming? Is any of this real at all?

“Noticed it a while ago, yeah. That’s why I’m not freaking out that you noticed my flirting 100 years later.”

For a moment, Zuko is able to set aside  his internal emotional turmoil and state of panic, if only to complain.

“Hey!” He frowns. “Wait—”

“You have said that a lot.”

“Wait,” Zuko repeats, just to be annoying, “if you… liked me, and knew that I liked you back, why didn’t you… make a move?”

“Like asking you out? I tried to, but you’re too oblivious.”

“Huh?” Zuko utters. What does that even mean? He’s not—well, he is, maybe, just a bit, but. “Well, if you knew that, you could have been more straightforward, you know!”

Sokka smiles, then shrugs.

“I guess we’re both dumb.”

Zuko feels his lips curling up, not able to contain all his happiness anymore, his brain catching up with the last 20 minutes of his life.

Holy shit, Sokka likes him. Sokka likes him. Him. Zuko. As in, romantically speaking.

Oh.

Oh.

“I like you, Zuko.” Sokka says, as if Zuko’s brain didn’t shut down already. He reaches out and slides his hand on the table Zuko was previously working, the tip of his fingers touching Zuko’s. “So can I finally, please hold your hand?”

Zuko might pass out for real, but before that, he finally, finally, finally takes Sokka’s hand into his own.

It feels even better than in his dreams.

He feels like burning up, like all of his body is setting itself on fire.

Sokka’s hand is warm, so warm, and soft, so soft, and makes Zuko’s heart flutter like delicate flower’s petals in the wind.

Sokka’s thumb brushes over his knuckles; Sokka’s lips turn into a bright smile, like he’s been wanting to do that since forever.

It feels like home.

.

.

When they tell their friends they’re dating, Yue is the first one to say something.

“You mean you weren’t dating before?”

“Shocking, right,” Katara deadpans, but then she smiles, genuine. “I’m happy for both of you.” 

(Although remembering that minutes later doesn’t make her any less scary, when she decides to corner him out of the bathroom and put a steady hand on his shoulder, feign-sweet smile on her face, and say with a weirdly off-calm voice that, if he ever dared to hurt Sokka on purpose, she was going to break all the 206 bones on his body.)

Toph grins brightly and kicks him enthusiastically on the side with a loud “Well-done, loser!” while Aang jumps on Zuko’s back and clings to him like a koala.

“That’s awesome, guys! Be happy!”

Zuko smiles.

“Finally, I won’t have to hear Sokka’s pinning all the time,” Suki quips, like she’s tired and utterly uninterested, but even the happiness is evident in her voice.

Sokka still complains. “Hey! I had to hear you be head-over-heels for Yue for months, too.”

“It wasn’t months for you, though.” Suki deadpans, but then her face goes all soft, “I’m kidding, So, I’m really happy for you two.”

Sokka smiles, and she gets up from where she’s cuddling Yue on the sofa to hug Sokka tightly, grinning wide, and then look at Zuko (stumbling with a happily laughing Aang on his back and Toph annoyingly ruffling his hair like a proud little sister) and whispers something in Sokka’s ear.

Zuko is glad that he’s still looking at Sokka from the corner of his eye, because he catches him blushing after that.

He’s cute.

Suki laughs. Sokka frowns, still blushing, and when he catches Zuko watching, he blushes harder.

He’s really cute.

Zuko smiles softly, and Sokka blinks, once, twice, before smiling back.

The cutest.

.

.

“Zuko.”

Zuko hums, but doesn’t look up from his work.

“Zukoooo, darling, love of my life.”

Zuko is used to it by now. To Sokka calling him pet-names like those. Of hearing Sokka say he’s cute, or hot, or smart, or witty, or pretty. It still makes his heart flutter, though. Just as Sokka’s laugh does. It still makes him blush sometimes.

(It’s funny because Sokka is the same way—or mostly the same. Zuko said he looked really hot after a baseball game once and Sokka almost died on the spot. He blushed like mad, but after he calmed down, he couldn’t stop bragging about Zuko calling him ‘hot’.

“Look at you, flirting shamelessly with me! You’re all grown up!” and, “I shouldn’t be near Zuko if I’m wearing my baseball uniform, he’ll get a boner,” and a lot of more phrases.)

“Hm?”

“You are—” Sokka sing-songs, and crosses his arms over Zuko’s textbook. He puts his chin over his forearms and looks up at Zuko’s face, grinning, and Zuko would probably be a bit annoyed that he’s not letting him finish his essay if it weren’t for the fact that he’s Sokka. His, ahem, boyfriend. 

“I am…?”

“You are,” he repeats, and his smile grows bigger. Zuko thinks about kissing him; Zuko thinks about kissing him all the time. But, to be fair, he used to dream about that, just as much as he used to dream about them holding hands. And just as if he read Zuko’s mind, Sokka reaches out and holds his right hand; gently, like all of Sokka’s touches. It feels so nice, Zuko never wants to let go. “You are pulchritudinous.”

Eh?

Zuko tries to smile, but Sokka looks at him like he’s looking at a cute baby and throws his head back, still close and still holding his hand.

“You’re adorable.”

“What…?” Zuko is sure he looks as puzzled as he feels; he once caught his reflection in the mirror while playing Scrabble with Sokka and therefore knows how he must look. For some reason, Sokka finds it extremely cute. “What does that mean?”

Sokka laughs again.

Zuko narrows his eyes into slits. Or, maybe Sokka’s just making fun of him. (Not in a bad way, of course, Zuko knows. Sokka never means any harm, but he sure as hell loves teasing Zuko all the time.)

“Are you insulting me?”

Sokka wipes tears from his eyes and looks at Zuko with such a sweet face that it kinda makes Zuko stumble, even when he’s sitting.

His heart flutters alive, his face grows warm. He wants to kiss Sokka.

Sokka does, though, pulling gently at his hand and softly pressing his lips into Zuko’s wrist. He grins up at him.

“You’re adorable.”

(Later, when he’s waiting for a toast on Uncle Iroh’s kitchen, still barefoot, decked out in his pajamas and half-asleep, he finally finds what he thinks is the correct word using the search function of his phone—after 20 lame attempts of trying and failing at remembering—and pronouncing correctly—the right word.

He clicks on the dictionary tab, reads over the meaning, stumbles over, slips and falls flat on his ass.

He almost sets his kitchen on fire for the second time.)

.

.

Zuko is bad at flirting. He knows. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t try, hard, and sometimes, sometimes, he succeeds (conscious and unconsciously).

Or maybe Sokka is just too easy to fluster (even when Sokka says it’s the other way around; even when that’s actually, probably, just a bit, true.)

Either way, Zuko basks happily in seeing Sokka get all flustered. It makes him even cuter than he already is.

(Whipped, Toph would draw out, mockingly sing-song.

And, well, maybe he is.)

.

.

Kissing Sokka is like setting himself on fire. Like burning up alive, but not in the bad sense. Not in the way he was burned as a little kid.

Kissing Sokka is like sitting near a campfire when you’re feeling cold; like standing on the edge of a cliff, feeling your chest contract; like tucking yourself in a warm blanket, with fuzzy socks and drinking your favorite drink, while hearing your favorite song. It’s like waking up on a good day, like basking in the sun at twilight, like taking a warm shower after a long day.

He feels too much, way too overwhelmed, even with just a brush of lips.

Kissing Sokka is a blessed thing.

There’s something that comes alive in his chest at the same time their lips touch. It blossoms under his ribcage, spreads over his chest, warms up all the way up to his throat. Beating, growing, marveling in every fiber of his being. Maybe that’s what love is—maybe that’s what Zuko has been searching for all this time; this connection, this overwhelming feeling, this deep, raw, unfiltered emotion, coming off him through waves of desperation for more.

He can’t be sure. But even if it wasn’t something he has looked out for, the discovery of it still feels like a sacred thing.

It’s like watching cherry blossoms falling on the street for the first time, like falling asleep on the comfortable side of your bed after a tiring day, it’s coming back home—or to what home should feel like.

It’s something delicate, at first. Zuko doesn’t have any experience, so he just lets himself feel as Sokka presses his lips softly into his own, carding his long fingers into Zuko’s hair.

Zuko feels an electric chill run down his spine, where Sokka’s fingertips—from the hand that’s not on his hair—make a slow path down. He can feel them burning, even through his clothes, even when Sokka’s hand is not that warm.

But it feels like that.

Zuko breathes shakily, moves his lips experimentally, feeling Sokka’s smile against his mouth.

He wants to do something, so he leans in, feeling Sokka’s eyelashes tickling his cheekbones, feeling Sokka’s thumb under his jaw, angling his head in a better position, feeling himself become aflame. He wants to touch Sokka. He really wants to touch Sokka.

So he does.

He uses one hand to gently touch Sokka’s wrist—the one Sokka’s using to keep Zuko’s head up—and, carefully, tentatively, he wraps his fingers around it, caresses the skin like he wants to print a topographic map of it into his mind.

Sokka makes a low, appreciative sound, and Zuko feels so happy it should be embarrassing.

Sokka has his hair down, and Zuko wants to touch it so much because he loves Sokka’s hair. Sokka’s hair is so pretty—Sokka is so pretty—so he goes for it. He brushes his fingers on Sokka’s shoulder, touches the strands of brown hair that lie there, moves his fingers to the nape of his neck. Zuko does this slowly, he wants to feel everything and he’s not going to rush, not after how long he’s wanted this.

He cradles his head with his hand, touches and touches and touches. He pulls at his hair, lightly, and his hand goes down just a bit; the skin of Sokka’s neck under his fingertips is warm, and so soft. He can feel the gentle echo of his heartbeat thundering in the tender curve of his jaw.

Just then, Sokka’s thumb brushes on his bare clavicle, and Zuko hisses, feeling like he’s on fire. Feeling like he’s become burning embers.

It’s just—too much, and at the same time, not enough—he wants more.

He has always been sensitive, but it’s different now. It’s like all his senses are turned on—he’s hyper-aware of everything around him—of Sokka’s hands, of Sokka’s steady, fast heartbeat under his open palm, of Sokka’s smell, of Sokka’s warm mouth, of Sokka’s soft skin, of the way Sokka keeps mumbling his name, softly against his lips or when he breaks apart to breath. He touches Sokka’s face, Sokka’s arms, Sokka’s neck; breathes his name into his own mouth, makes sure Sokka knows how much he wants this, how much he’s dreamed of this: of kissing him, of him kissing him back.

It feels too good to be even real—just as Sokka always makes him feel, even when they’re not kissing.

He might as well die there.

It wouldn’t be a bad way to go, though.

Linked, bare soul to bare soul, with the prettiest, smartest, kindest boy he’s ever met.

.

.

There’s something so tragically painful about falling in love, they say. But as he sees Sokka laughing in front of him because of some ridiculous joke Toph made, holding Zuko’s hand like it’s the most precious thing in the world, he can’t help but think that falling in love is anything but painful.

Sokka turns around, catches him staring and grins, playfully wiggling his eyebrows.

Zuko smiles, thinking just how much he loves Sokka, how much he loves his life, how much he loves his uncle, how much he loves his friends, how much he loves being alive, being there, curled up with Sokka on his couch, watching a stupid rom-com movie on Sokka’s cell-phone screen, sharing earphones with his boyfriend. Being there, in the house that he shares with his uncle—his real dad—in the house that he has come to call home. Being there, feeling safe in Sokka’s arms, with Toph hearing music on the TV, while Aang and Katara and Suki and Yue sleep, sprawled there and there all over his living-room.

“I love you,” Zuko tells Sokka, like he just revealed the biggest secret of the universe.

Love.

He feels the word on his tongue, and it tastes sweet. It tastes like the color of Sokka’s eyes, like the tone of Sokka’s laugh, like all of Sokka’s smiles—the gentle one, the soft one, the playful and flirty one, the wide one—all of them. Love tastes like Sokka holding his hand while they go for a walk, like Sokka’s voice when he talks about what he likes, like Sokka’s proud eyes after scoring a run, after Zuko shows him his grades. It tastes like a lot of things he can’t name, like the way Sokka says his name, like the way Sokka makes him feel, like that little mole under Sokka’s jaw, like the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles with the setting sun of the beach, like the way his fingertips feel against Zuko’s neck. Like the way he looks at Zuko like he’s not broken, like he’s the best thing that ever existed, like his scar is beautiful and all of Zuko’s failures don’t matter to him because he’s him, and that is enough. Like Zuko is more than enough, and how he loves that he’s more than enough to Zuko, too.  

“I love you,” Zuko says again, in a low voice, and it feels real. It has meaning. It’s not an empty word at all.

For some reason, he feels like tearing up a bit.

Sokka’s face mellows, softens; he brushes his thumb under Zuko’s left eye, just at the edge of his scar, and his eyes become impossibly warm. Zuko wants to kiss all of his face; he wants to taste all of Sokka’s softness on his own lips.

There, in the quiet of Zuko’s living-room, Sokka smiles, and Zuko thinks he’s the most bewitching, stunning, ineffably beautiful being.

It feels like something ethereal. Sokka smiles and Zuko feels blessed to exist.

“I love you, too,” Sokka answers, like he’s sharing one of the secrets of the universe, too, like he’s never told anyone anything more true, and ever so gentle.

Zuko smiles and kisses him.

Falling in love is a blessed thing.

[evanbvckley]

SUMMARY: When Maddie organizes a game night for the firefam and their partners, things between Buck and Eddie change quickly. Nothing a hot shower can't resolve.

FANDOM: 9-1-1 (TV)

RELATIONSHIP: Evan Buckley / Eddie Diaz

WORDS: 3.6k.

First attempt at writing after years, well.... look at what the homosexuals have done to me! [READ ON AO3]

Full story under the cut. 

That kiss was a joke, right? Buck could not explain it, but he has never felt that way in a long time. He kept thinking about that kiss with Eddie.

It was an “adult” game night at the 118, and of course, everyone invited their partners: Chimney brought Maddie, Bobby brought Athena, who wasn’t that convinced about that whole thing but agreed after knowing there would have been wine to make things more tolerable, and Hen brought Karen. The only ones left were Buck and Eddie, who were paired together just for the game, making Maddie laugh for almost fifteen minutes at her brother’s expression. They were not a couple, but it was just a night between friends – however, it was strange being the only couple who was not actually a couple at the table. The game became more intense when Maddie, playing truth or dare, dared every couple to kiss for a minute. Hen and Karen did it without hesitation, and after them it was the turn of Bobby and Athena, helped by a glass of good red wine.

“Your turn, Buck,” Maddie said just after having kissed Chimney, smiling as she stared at Buck and Eddie, both red in their faces. Buck was trying to kill her with his look.

“I’m not gonna kiss Eddie for a whole minute. No way.” He protested, still sitting at the table but wanting to disappear from Earth as Eddie, beside him, became more and more silent. Both just wanted to skip that turn, but at the same time they both knew no one there would ever let them do it.

“You have to do it, Buck. It’s the game.” Chimney supported Maddie as always, and just like that he was on Buck’s blacklist too. They were never gonna get invited to anything again.

“It’s not fair, you’re all together. We are not a couple.” Buck kept fighting against the rules and against his own new family, while Eddie was trying not to explode from embarrassment in front of everyone.

“It’s only a game, you don’t have to get married after this!” Hen laughed, followed by Athena and Karen, both drunker than what they would have ever admitted. It was their way to tolerate all of that: wine made things easier, even for Eddie. As a matter of fact, it was Eddie who started it: he chugged down a glass of wine in a few seconds before taking Buck’s head in his hands, whispering a stressed “fuck” as he turned the friend towards him and kissed him. One minute, it was only one minute.

The most intense silence fell in the room: Maddie and Chimney smiled, Athena almost choked herself with an olive as Bobby looked away, while Hen and Karen stared at both of them, interested and entertained. It was the most entertaining thing of the night, after all.

Sure, it was only one minute, but many things can happen in one minute. Eddie closed his eyes just before kissing Buck, who almost stood up and ran away, but it took only a few moments to get used to Eddie’s lips over his mouth. After ten seconds, Buck relaxed his muscles. After thirty seconds, he lifted his arms to put his hand over Eddie’s shoulders. After fifty seconds he was so into that kiss that he almost opened his mouth to get his tongue out.

“One minute!” Interrupted Chimney, with some complaints coming from both Athena and Hen.

“See? It wasn’t that difficult. Good job, brother.” Maddie was kind of involved with all of that, she just waited for the right moment to pull off that card to make everyone kiss, especially his brother and Eddie. She found so frustrating seeing them so close yet so far, every single day. Yes, that game night was just an excuse to bring those two together and with the expert help of Chimney, it finally happened. And it was even better than they thought it would be. Buck was red as the firetruck, Eddie was so quiet as if he weren’t really there.

“I have to go.” Buck did not add anything else, he just walked away from the table and called sick for a few days the next morning.

—

After an entire week had passed, Buck’s mind is still stuck on that kiss, on the feeling of Eddie’s lips over his and how he almost tried to get out his tongue to make that kiss more carnal. What the hell was I thinking? is quite literally the only thought inside Buck’s mind every time he thinks about Eddie, and everything reminds him of that kiss since everything, apparently, reminds him of Eddie Diaz, the hot firefighter who started as an enemy – a rivalry who lasted less than a day.

After just one kiss, Edmundo Diaz was the only thing Evan Buckley was able to think about.

Eddie’s situation is not much better after all: he realized he had kissed Evan with so much passion only a few days later, and he can only think about Buck too.

Buck returned to work after those so-called “sick” days, completely ignoring Eddie and every question about him, even though they had to work together. It was much easier doing that than acknowledge what he had felt during that kiss and what he was still feeling at that moment, just thinking about it.

Having to work with the person you are trying to avoid does not make things easy, and Buck was about to realize it as he went in the showers of the 118. Most of his coworkers have already gone away, but not one in particular, not the one Buck is trying so hard to ignore: Eddie.

“Good job today,” says Eddie, trying to be kind and putting everything in the past like nothing ever happened between the two of them. But he can’t resist. “Listen, Buck, about that—”

“Shut up. I don’t want to talk about it.” Buck shushes him without even raising his eyes. He gets undressed, hops in the shower without saying anything more but his silence does not last that long. “Why did you grab my head to kiss me? They were about to give up and move on. But you kissed me.” now Buck is really looking at Eddie, into his eyes, as if it was an interrogation.

“It was a game. A joke.” Lies. As much as Buck, Eddie knows it wasn’t only a joke: there was something else, something deeper and more powerful. “We’re still friends, right?” he keeps on lying.

“Yeah, right.” a cutting answer leaves Buck’s mouth. Despite his attempts at ignoring him, his eyes keep glaring at Eddie’s body as the water runs down Eddie’s muscular body. Both of them become quiet, but at the same time, they are thinking about the other: especially here, naked, in the shower, with the hands that reach their penis, imagining their “friend” doing the same.

Buck had enough of that: he steps out of his shower only to reach Eddie’s spot, opening the opaque shower door and whispering “My turn” before going in, grabbing Eddie’s face just in the same way as the man did it at game night, kissing him again. Eddie, surprising even himself, kisses back almost immediately, arching his back but staying away from Buck’s wet naked body.

“What did that mean, Buck?” asks Eddie, after the other stopped the kiss. Buck was standing right in front of him, embarrassed – What the fuck did I do? We’re naked! – but knowing that his heart was in the right place and that Eddie owned it.

“I— I don’t know! I can’t stop thinking about that kiss! It was a joke, right? Why did you kiss me? Why everyone wanted us to kiss?”

“It wasn’t a joke, Buck.” Eddie lets out a long sigh, looking at Buck blurting words out without thinking. “It was a kiss, I think your sister made the whole game night up just for that. I have no actual evidence, but I’m pretty sure of that.” he laughs, and Buck immediately calms down a little.

“You think so?” Maddie was behind all of that? Impossible.

“Yeah. But you kissed me again after avoiding me for an entire week. Why?” not that Eddie did not like it, he actually liked it even more than the kiss during the game. Buck is direct, passionate, his kisses make Eddie euphoric, and now he wants to know the reason behind that second kiss.

“I wanted to. I kept thinking about you, your kiss, your lips… and I couldn’t resist any longer.”  letting all of that out is like lifting a weight off his chest, he finally admitted his feelings, but he could not even think about other words to say because Eddie pulled him over to kiss him again. This time, however, he doesn’t stay away from Evan’s body, instead, he just pushes himself over Buck.

“We’re in the showers,” Buck says, gasping for air as he puts his hands on Eddie’s hips.

“I know. But there is basically no one at the 118 right now. Be quiet.” And Buck doesn’t question it.

They kiss again, their bodies rubbing one against the other as their tongues were finally together. Buck turns off the water as he pushes Eddie against the wall, rushing to get a hand inside his hair. He cannot believe they are doing that inside the fire station, but it feels so good he cannot stop at just one kiss.

“Fuck me,” Buck whispers at Eddie’s ear just before biting his earlobe, making Eddie jump and shiver with excitement. Their first time together and they are in a shower, not that romantic and not at all as Eddie had imagined – because yes, he had already thought of that, a million possibilities of having sex with Buck, but the showers of the fire station were never part of his dreams.

“Not so fast.” Eddie laughs, bringing one hand around Buck’s dick to massage it and to feel it growing inside his fingers. Hearing Buck moaning is delightful, and it is even better than everything his mind has ever produced. From his explicit request, Buck melts as soon as Eddie grabs his dick to turn him on: in a span of few seconds, Buck is craving Eddie’s hand and tongue, even his teeth on his body. He wants everything Eddie can give him, and the other is more than happy to please him in every way he can.

Buck is so eager to be fucked that he takes Eddie’s hand over his ass, but Eddie takes things slower: he grabs Buck’s left cheek before switching position and pushing him against the wall, with his back towards him so he can take a look at the ass he’s about to fuck. “Such a pretty view.”

“It’s all yours.” Buck moans, pushing up his ass and searching for Eddie’s cock, which is now stiff and hard just as Buck’s dick. Eddie doesn’t know whether or not Buck has been fucked before, but he doesn’t want to waste time asking that: instead, he gets on his knees in front of his ass and spreads Buck’s cheeks apart to see his hole. Without hesitating he gets his tongue right in the middle, rubbing the tip over his tight opening: it was clear that Buck was never the slutty bottom he was in that moment with him. And he likes that. Buck shivers and moans again, closing his eyes and even his mouth when Eddie interrupts the rimming only to shush him: after all, they are still in a public place, sort of.

Eddie nudges with his tongue inside Buck, just to try things out, and the muffled moan that leaves Buck’s mouth makes him smile. He is doing the right thing and, most importantly, he has not lost his touch after all those years without another body between his hands. After playfully biting his left cheek, Eddie stands up and gets closer to Buck’s body: his hard cock pressed against Buck’s ass, which is almost begging to get pounded at this time. Buck’s eyes confirm that feeling, but he is not ready yet.

“Get on your knees.” Eddie insists and Buck, moaning a complaint, obeys once again. Seeing Eddie’s shaft right in front of his eyes is something else: a long and slightly curved cock, with a red tip and throbbing veins that tempt him. Instinctively, Buck gets his hand around it, looking up at Eddie to have some kind of confirmation, and after a simple look, he starts jerking him off. It is not the first time for Buck to jerk a cock different than the one he has between his legs, but it is the first time with Eddie, and this first time is quite special. Buck licks his lips, preparing his mouth as he gets closer and closer to Eddie.

When Eddie feels Buck’s tongue around his head, he squints his eyes, holding out his arm to get the hand against the wall. He smiles happily and breathes heavily, encouraging Buck as he passes the other hand through his hair.

“You’re not just good at kissing, apparently…” Eddie pushes his hips forward, forcing Buck to take all his length in his mouth. Not easy, but he manages to take it. Buck keeps licking and sucking, swirling his tongue around Eddie’s dick, and lifting his arm to get his hand over Eddie’s pecs. He grabs it, pinching his nipple as he blows him.

“Some more… Get that tongue around it.” Now the only thing Buck can think about is Eddie’s pleasure and the taste of his precum that goes down his throat. Oh, how much he missed that.

Eddie must stop himself from moaning and from thrusting his erection inside Buck’s mouth. Fortunately, it is Buck himself that brings new rhythm to that blowjob, going faster and faster as his saliva drips down from his chin.

“Stop. Stop— Fuck.” Eddie pulls away from Buck’s mouth, who stays right there with his lips open and his tongue out, inviting Eddie to give him his cock again.

“I want more.” Please, he adds in his head.

“You’re so eager.” Eddie laughs, but he nods. Grabbing the base of his cock he rubs his entire length over Buck’s face, slapping his cheeks and then his mouth with it. “Like that?”

“Yes.” Buck keeps trying to catch it with his mouth, but Eddie does not give him any chance. But they are in the shower without any lube or protection, so Buck’s saliva is the best thing he’ll ever get. Eddie grabs firmly Buck’s hair to hold his head and shoves his cock inside his mouth up until the base. His testicles rubbing Buck’s chin.

Eddie keeps a hand over his own mouth to keep himself quiet, he is finally minutes away from fucking Evan and he won’t allow anyone to walk in on them at that moment. “Fuck. Stand up. Now.”

As soon as Buck stands up, Eddie kisses him again to feel his own taste mixed with the other’s saliva.

“Turn around.” Buck was waiting just for that. He presses his face against the wall, spreads his legs, and pushes his hips out. With the help of his hands, then, he spreads his cheeks to show off his pink and almost untouched hole.

With a hand over Buck’s mouth, Eddie rubs his cock between the cheeks, spitting on it himself to get more lube as possible. It was not going to be easy, but he knows Buck can take it.

“Ready?” he pushes the tip against his hole without putting it in.

“Mh–mh.” Buck nods, rubbing his ass over Eddie’s erection. It is bigger than Buck expected, but after all, if he took it all inside his mouth, why wouldn’t he be able to take it up his ass? He is ready.

Slowly, Eddie’s cock slides inside. Buck’s muscles contract around the head even if he knows he has to relax them, but the last time he had a real cock inside him was such a long ago. Eddie makes sure that he is not hurting him, but he carefully keeps going watching every move Buck makes. He is tight, warm, and perfect. After a while, Eddie’s cock is all inside him and Buck can feel Eddie’s testicles against his ass. Both moan simultaneously, Eddie leans over Buck to kiss his shoulder.

“Don’t worry. I’m gonna go slow.”

“Don’t—” Buck takes away Eddie’s hand to talk. “Fuck me for real.” Eddie is not surprised; Buck always wants everything immediately. This time, however, Eddie was not going to roll his eyes and complain: Buck will get what he asks.

He starts with small thrusts to get Buck’s hole used to his cock, but as soon as he feels that there isn’t much resistance from Buck and especially after he sees pleasure taking over Buck’s face, he knows he can start fucking him just as his man asked.

The thrusts get faster and heavier, his hips smash against Buck’s cheeks as both of them try not to moan and scream for pleasure. After all, none of them had sex in a long time. Buck takes his arms back to grabs Eddie to pull him over him so he can kiss him: it is his way to shut himself up, or else he is gonna scream.

Eddie follows him happily, kissing him as he keeps moving in and out of him, feeling his muscles squeezing his cock. He is not gonna last very long as he wants, but he does not care. Having Buck all for himself feels amazing, he finally knows how his hole feels like, how he moans, how his eyes look when he is being fucked: so many questions now finally have an answer.

“Please…” Buck moans as his hand reaches for his erection, stroking himself with the help of Eddie’s thrusts. Eddie cannot hear him begging like this and not pounding him harder: his hands tightly grab Buck’s shoulder, pushing his cock inside his hole that is now used to being spread apart. Buck cannot help but moan harder and harder, and Eddie has to put a hand over his mouth once again: they cannot be seen like this, not when he’s close to breed him.

Buck’s moans die against Eddie’s fingers, that the man starts inserting into his mouth to make him suck them. It feels amazing how Buck’s muscles surround his throbbing dick, and the orgasm gets closer with each thrust.

“I’m gonna fill you up…” Eddie whispers at Buck’s ear, which quivers at the idea, but has something else in mind.

“No. I want to taste you.” With a smirk on his face, Buck turns his head behind as much as he can to make eye contact with his friend, even though it seems strange to call Eddie like that while his dick is hitting his prostate.

“As you wish.” Eddie can feel his pleasure rise each second; his dick is begging him to let the cum fill up Buck’s hole, but he wants to please his colleague. After that, he pulls out. “Get on your knees, fast!” as he jerks off to keep the orgasm coming. Buck obeys and gets his face right under Eddie’s dick, keeping his eyes up so the other man can see how much he loves all of that.

Eddie’s loads hit Buck’s face fast: they are warm, white, and most importantly there is so much cum coming out of that cock that Buck is not sure he could have kept it in his mouth. The first loads hit even Buck’s hair, but when Eddie has finally finished, Buck’s face is covered in cum he keeps licking his lips to catch what he can to taste his load. Eddie stands in front of him, amazed at what Buck can become during sex, but he doesn’t stay frozen, instead, he grabs the base of his cock and uses it to push his own load towards Buck’s mouth, cleaning his face at the same time.

“Fuck, you really like that…” and he likes it too. Eddie gets on his knees too to kiss Buck’s face and lips, tasting his own load from his skin as he gets one hand over Buck’s cock to jerk him off and help him finish.

“Eddie…” Buck moans, shoving his dirty face into Eddie’s shoulders as the man massages his throbbing cock. It doesn’t take long anyway, after less than a minute Buck shoots his thick load that hits Eddie’s body and then the rest slides down Eddie’s hand. Without any hesitation, when Buck has finished Eddie lifts his hand to lick it clean in front of Buck who watches the scene, speechless.

“You taste good,” Eddie says, before kissing him and pushing him against the wall again, even if they are now sitting on the shower floor, he does not want to stop kissing him. Eddie has waited for too long for that, he doesn’t want to waste any minute or any second away from Buck’s perfect body.

“Next time you’ll top.” It is just a whisper that leaves Eddie’s mouth, but Buck is already smiling at the idea: one of his hand reaches Eddie’s ass to grab his cheek, but Eddie immediately slaps his hand. “I said next time. Now, you’re mine.”

What started as a game night evolved in some rough, enticing and heated sex between two so-called ‘friends’ that now are probably more than just that. It is with a soft kiss, especially compared to everything they have done until that moment, that Eddie stands up and gets Buck to stand up as well. A new shower starts, but this time they are in the same spot, helping the other with soap and of course teasing each other. After all, it was only the first of many showers together.

[thepandapopo]

A Step Through Time Chapter 2: Context

I'm trying something different.

My previous chapter was written in active voice because I generally prefer writing like that (more engaging, easier to write etc. ), but I wanted to practice writing in passive voice as well. I've read so many fics lately where authors write in past tense and passive voice and it's absolutely AMAZING, and I wish i could do that too. Thus, I've decided that any Felix centric chapters I write will all be in active since he's technically from the future so present tense is as close as I can get, and any Sylvain centric chaps will be written in passive voice/past tense since it's in 'the past'. ish. kinda.

Pairing: Sylvain x Felix

Synopsis:

In which Sylvain wallows in his self hatred before Felix comes to provide him context.

OR

The one where Sylvain is so incredibly dense and Felix has to all but spell it out for him.

Please consider following me on Twitter to receive progress updates and notifications when I post chapters! If you would like to be added to a tag list for this fic, please send me a message :)

Fatherhood suited Felix.

But then again, Sylvain thought absently to himself, he always knew that it would. Although Felix put up an exterior that was colder than the frigid Faerghus winters, he was always patient and gentle with children; never hesitating to unwearyingly pass down his swordsmanship if asked.

Sylvain had always loved children, but the problem was that he did not love women. At least, not in the way that was needed to be able to actually form a healthy relationship and conceive a child. Years of being pressured with talks of marriage proposals and being clinically ogled by women who only saw him for his crest had left a bitter taste in his mouth. Not to mention he would never want his child to be shackled with the burden of a crest in this world. A crest wasn’t a status of nobility like everyone believed. No, it was a death sentence given shortly after birth.

He would be lying though, if he said that he had never imagined a faceless red haired child running into his arms with gleeful shouts of ‘Daddy!’ ringing off the halls of the Gautier estate.

But Felix. Felix had never cared about crests. No, Felix had always liked Sylvain for Sylvain. The youngest Fraldarius had always had a knack for stripping away the red head’s carefully constructed masks, peeling them away with his eyes like they were paper thin and nothing more than a slight hindrance, piercing down to his very core and laying bare everything that Sylvain was. And even when he stripped away all the beautiful lies and cover ups and only the gross ugly truth of who Sylvain Jose Gautier remained… even then, Felix never turned away from him.

Future Felix was… different.

Sylvain wouldn’t necessarily say that Future Felix was purposely ignoring him, but he was most definitely going out of his way to avoid interacting with the Gautier. Even now, as Sylvain stood partially obscured by the shadow of one of the monastery pillars watching the older swordsman sit patiently while his daughter – Sophia Gabriella Fraldarius, was how Future Felix introduced her - gleefully weaved an impressive assortment of wildflowers into his long midnight hair, Sylvain felt a tightness in his chest.

Although Sylvain entertained the idea of one day siring a child, he would give up that dream in a heartbeat for the chance to spend the rest of life with Felix.

He wanted Felix, or he wanted no one.

But Sophie… little Sophie was proof that Felix did not feel the same.

Goddess. He had taken lances to the stomach, and even been nearly burned alive by a Bolganone spell, but none of those could compare to the pain of having his deepest hope undeniably ripped away from him.

“Sylvain.”

He nearly gave himself whiplash with how quickly he swiveled to face the newcomer behind him.

“Oh hey, Professor! Didn’t see you there.”

“Are you spying on Future Felix and Sophie?”  Her mint eyes fixed on him in a cool, calm manner just daring him to lie to her.

“Ahaha…” he scratched the back of his head. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, for one, you’re hiding in the shadows.”

“Professor! I am wounded that you doubt me so.” He clutched his chest dramatically.

Although he knew that his puppy eyes never worked on his former teacher, years of carefully fabricated masks made it second nature and he felt his face contort into a sad pout before his mind could catch up.

Maybe this was why Felix ended up marrying someone else.

How could he ever want someone as fake and broken as Sylvain?

“Sylvain.”

“Professor, I swear I was just passing by and momentarily paused to see what they were doing.” Not a complete lie; Technically Sylvain had just been passing through the courtyard when he spotted Future Felix casually sitting on the grass, carefully watching Sophie as she went digging through the wilder patches of vegetation that had been ignored while they restored the rest of the monastery, on a hunt for any kinds of flowers she could get her hands on.

Except that was close to ten minutes ago and he most definitely was spying now.

Byleth looked at him with an expression that he could only describe as torn between complete skepticism and sympathy.

“Very well, if you insist.” Sylvain felt his shoulders sag with relief. “I will see you at our roundtable strategy meeting this afternoon?” She turned to leave but turned her head towards him waiting for his answer.

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Byleth nodded her farewell and Sylvain watched as her overcoat fluttered in her wake. He would have to be more careful around her – the last thing he wanted was for her to invite him to a tea party so that she could grill him on why he was so distracted lately.

It wasn’t his fault that the presence of a certain child was making him act out of sorts.

“Sylvie!”

Speaking of.

Sylvain turned and smiled down at Sophie who was grinning at him. In her grubby little hands, she held out a drooping orange pansy.

“Oh, is this for me?” Sylvain kneeled down so that he was eye level with Sophie and reached out to accept the flower. Before he could wrap his much larger hand around the delicate stem, she quickly retracted her hand.

“For you! In your hair like Papa.”

The bright orange would look washed out in his own brightly colored hair, but he could not bring himself to care and bent his head to allow Sophie better access. When she was finished, she gave his head a little pat of satisfaction and he winked at her. “Does it make me look pretty?”

“Sylvie is always pretty! But not as pretty as Papa.”

“Oh, is that so?” From the corner of his eye, Sylvain watched as Future Felix approached and plastered on the most convincing casual grin he could muster. “Well, I suppose I cannot argue with that. Your Papa is very pretty after all. Probably the prettiest I’ve ever seen.”

“Insufferable as always.” Felix rolled his eyes and settled against the stone pillar next to him. The words were familiarly harsh, but the lack of bite behind it made it seem odd.

Ignoring the nervous coil in his gut, Sylvain turned his attention back to the little Fraldarius child. “He looks especially pretty with all the flowers. You did such a wonderful job, Sophie!”

Goddess, current Felix was already strikingly handsome, but Future Felix was in a whole other league. While he normally kept his hair up in a long ponytail, today he decided to wear it down in a braid that cascaded over one shoulder, tumbling in a waterfall of ink ending just slightly below his chest. The stark contrast of the bright flowers in his hair served as a glaring reminder that this Felix was much softer and settled in his own skin than his Felix was.

Silence descended on the pair as Sophie dashed back into the tall grass to pick more flowers ‘to make Sylvie a crown’.

“So…”

“You don’t have to talk, you know.” Sylvain let out a nervous chuckle. At least the future Felix was still blunt and straight to the point.

“Sorry. Nervous habit.”

“…I know.”

Of course, he did. Felix could always read him like an open book; though whether that was from a literal lifetime of friendship or if it was because he was the only one to actually take the time to get to know Sylvain as a person was entirely up for debate.

It took an embarrassingly long time for Sylvain to calm his heartbeat, but after he had managed to wrangle his growing attraction to the future version of his crush, Sylvain had to admit that the quiet companionship was…nice. Not that he would ever say that aloud – given his reputation of putting his foot in his mouth whenever it came to Felix, Sylvain was one hundred percent sure that he would somehow mess things up even more, leading to the Future Felix avoiding him even more than he was already.

He didn’t want Felix to avoid him. Either Felix. But ever since Sophie showed up, his Felix began drawing away and sequestering himself even more than usual.

“…Just spit it out already.”

“What?”

To anyone else, they would have described the look that Felix had on his face as exasperated, but Sylvain knew better. Though he lacked the rigid set of his shoulders that he was used to seeing in his Felix, his crossed arms and cock of the hip was the same as always – closed off from the world like he couldn’t care les. However, the liquid molten amber of his eyes was enough to show that he was willing to wait for as long as it took Sylvain to share.

“Silence doesn’t suit you,” Felix snorted. “No matter how many times I tell you to shut up, you never seem to take my advice. The only time you actually stop blathering on is when you have something you want to say but you’re too scared to do it.”

Suddenly Sylvain wished that Future Felix would go back to avoiding him.

“Sorry. I just-“

“Sylvain.”

Backed into a corner, Sylvain blurted out the one thing that had made a permanent home in his mind ever since he had laid eyes on their time travelling guest.

“I like your hair like this. Long, I mean.” The words tumbled out of his mouth in a rush. “It suits you.”

For a moment, Felix looked at him with an inscrutable look – almost like he was sizing him up while also trying to supress some unknown emotion.

After a brief pause, the only response that Sylvain received was a short but amused, “I know.”

Sylvain felt his eyebrow rise in surprise. “You know? What does that mean?”

“Someone told me that they preferred me with long hair. So, I decided to grow it out.”

“Seriously?” Felix had once chewed him out for simply suggesting that he buy an pair of fancier boots for formal functions, so the idea that he would grow out the one thing he took pride in his appearance for someone else was, for lack of a better word, complete bullshit. “You’re growing out your hair because someone told you they preferred you with long hair? I know for a fact that it annoys you if it grows past your shoulders and you never really cared for other’s opinions, so what’s the real reason?”

Felix shrugged, dislodging a white daisy in the process and sending it tumbling down before he caught it and returned it to its rightful place. “Believe what you will. You know I don’t lie.”

It was true. In all their years as friends, Felix had never once lied to Sylvain; not even when he was spitting mad at him for jumping into danger headfirst or missing training for a date with another nameless girl.

Whoever said it, they clearly had a lot of sway in Felix’s opinion. Which meant that they must be extremely close to him; close enough that he – oh.

“Did your…” Fuck why was his throat so dry all of a sudden? “Did your wife tell you that?”

Of all the responses that he had expected to receive, a violent choke and spluttering was not one of them.

“My what? Goddess, no.” Felix clutched his chest as he wheezed and glared at Sylvain with exasperation. “Don’t be stupid.”

“What’s so stupid about that? It’s a pretty solid guess, in my opinion.” Sylvain willed his voice to stay light and aloof even while his heart was twisting and doing flip flops in his chest. “You’d only listen to someone who you really cared about, and seeing as you’re married-“ he jabbed a finger at the glittering onyx band, “-I assume that your significant other would be the only one who could possibly influence your appearance choices.”

Everything in Sylvain’s body screamed at him to drop the subject and run away as fast as possible, but his curiosity made him stay even though his chest felt like Raphael had dropped one of his large training boulders on him. Distantly, a part of Sylvain’s mind wondered that he might possibly be a masochist.

“You…” Felix frowned at him and straightened to face Sylvain fully. “You really don’t know, do you?”

Tilting his head, Sylvain felt his brows scrunch up even as the question left his lips. “Know what?”

Clearly, he had missed a memo and was very interested in remedying that.

“Shit, I know you told me but I didn’t really think that it was true. There was no way it could be true.” The hand adorned with his wedding band came up to scrub down his eyes. It was odd seeing Future Felix look this uncertain; for a guy who had literally lived the present day already, it was strange that something could cause him to look so conflicted.

“Sylvain, you’ve never once gotten me to come with you to ‘pick up girls’, so what on earth makes you think I have a wife?”

“Uh. I don’t know, maybe your wedding band?!”

“Sylvain. I don’t like women.”

Yeah well, neither did Sylvain, but that was neither here nor there.

“You don’t need to like women to get married and have a kid.” Felix couldn’t argue with that. Sylvain was literally the poster boy for a noble trapped in a life of obligation to his crest. “Which you clearly do.” To prove his point, Sylvain jerked his thumb over towards where Sophie was still digging through the dirt and pulling out flowers by the bunches, adding them to the already overflowing mismatched bouquet in her other hand.

Felix’s hand twitched and Sylvain had the vaguest feeling that the man was trying his best not to stab him.

“No, Sylvain.” Uh oh. There was that tone again. “I don’t like women. At all.”

“Yeah, Fe. I get it. Women are awful.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Why can’t you just understand what I’m trying to tell you?”

“Because you’re not telling me anything to help me understand! Give me context, or something.” Sylvain threw his hands up in the air in frustration. Clearly Felix did not learn to improve his communication in his extra twelve years of existence.

“Fine.” Felix groused. “You want context? I’ll give you context. Sophie!”

At the mention of her name, Sophie perked up from her place in the tall grass and hurried to scramble over, trampling some poor flowers and quite a large number of weeds in the process.

“Yes, Papa?” There are smears of dirt on her face and grass stains streaked across her dress, but despite it all, Sylvain thought that she still looked as radiant as ever. Of course, that was a given since any child of Felix’s was bound to be beautiful.

“Do you remember what I told you before about not mentioning that word?” Felix kneeled and tucked a loose crimson lock back in place.

Sophie nodded.

“I’m going to ask you a question that I want you to answer. Don’t worry about breaking the promise, okay? It’s fine to mention it just this once.”

“Okay, Papa.”

Felix’s gaze locked on Sylvain’s and he could literally feel the weight and purpose behind his stare.

He wanted context? Felix was more than happy to deliver.

“Sophie, can you tell Sylvie where you got your sword?”

Sword? What in Fodlan did a sword have anything to do with -

“It was a gift from Papa and Daddy!”

Sylvain’s thoughts screech to a halt.

Papa and…Daddy?

Sylvain. I don’t like women.

I don’t like women. At all.

For the second time today, Sylvain had half a mind to feel embarrassed at how slowly he put the pieces together; only managing to gape at Felix who looks half relieved that Sylvain finally, finally understands, but also half apprehensive.

Holy shit.

Felix fucking Fraldarius was gay.

[shuahoonie]

bed, booze, and him. [tom holland]

PAIRING: college!tom holland x reader

SUMMARY: life as a university student is already hard. sharing a flat with two college guys (one semi-decent, one all-around-annoying) just to get through paying the rent? funnily enough, even harder. it’s halloween plus midterms just ended so that means parties are never-ending and students are getting wasted. you should be out partying but you're stuck finishing a paper. how are you going to survive the night again?

WARNINGS: swearing as per usual! mentions of alcohol! slight mention of blood! friends living that domestic life! reader literally being in love with their bed and i cannot stress that enough! otp sharing a bed????? what???? 

WORD COUNT: 4.3k 

SONG INSPO: drunk on halloween - wallows 

A/N: hiya babes! another long-ass note here! thank you for all the kind words that i’ve received from ragnarok.  i apologize as i’ve been slacking lately! i really tried to write whenever i had time but i’m mostly occupied with work & university. i’ll try to post something throughout the semester. [though no promises! the semester is going by way too fast and i’m trying to keep up lmao] in the meantime, enjoy this fluff that was based on a prompt that would’ve been poppin’ during 2013 lmao. also, can i just say how hard it is to figure out what type of songs tom listens to lmao.i based it off from this playlist i found on spotify! go give it a look 💛

gif credits: @tmholland  

vanessa’s masterlist

x

“’Cause you make me feel like, I’ve been locked out of heaven.”  A shirtless Tom sang loudly, looking for a top to go with his denim jeans. The basket of freshly done laundry was sitting on top of the couch when Tom started rummaging through it. 

“Oi, oi.” You called out as you swatted Tom’s hands away from the laundry. ���I just folded these.” You countered as you began refolding and fixing the mess that he managed to create within seconds. 

“Just need a shirt,” Tom mumbled. 

“Yeah, no shit.” You grunted. “The top pile is yours, dumbass.” 

You didn’t even ask to do some of his laundries. He just saw you loading up yours and then started chucking some of his clothes inside of the washer. How you’ve managed to live with him, you have no clue.

“You’re welcome by the way,” You yelled sarcastically as you went back to your previous spot: the dining room table. Your notes were sprawled all over the table and sticky-notes placed on every possible page with your laptop beaming at you. 

“Thank you, darling.” He grinned, showing off that pretty smile that always made everyone swoon. “Y/N, can you tell me why are you writing a paper on a Halloween night when you could be partying and drinking the night away?” 

Tom was now sitting across you with his chin placed firmly on the palm of his hand, looking at your notes before turning his attention back to you. 

“Look, Holland,” You sighed “not everyone is having the time of their lives after the mid-term season is over. Some of us have to catch up with papers because life wasn’t supposed to be fair.” 

Tom held up his hands in surrender, “Alright darling, calm down.” He chuckled before standing up to pound on Harrison’s door again. “Mate, c’mon! You need to fucking hurry up or I’m leaving.” 

You just rolled your eyes at the sound of Tom’s annoying set of knocks. “Thomas Holland, I swear to god...” You groaned. 

“Y/N, darling, you know I love you but why can’t you just write in your room?” He asked. 

You narrowed your eyes at him before focusing back on your notes. “I could but I don’t want to pass out on my bed with a sloppy, unfinished paper watching me sleep.” You reasoned, not looking up at him as you were busy scrawling additional information on your notes. 

Tom hummed, obviously resting the argument as you’ve made your point. 

You really try your hardest and make an effort not to make your room a space that you associated your works with. You always studied either in the living room or at the library. Never in your room. 

You made sure that when you moved into the flat, you’d make an effort and would try to make your room as cosy as possible. You didn’t make a huge fuss regarding what you wanted. You got a skeleton-frame bookshelf, a study table, a nightstand, and a glorious bed. You had fairy lights strung up around your room as you kept the walls plain and white. 

You also had to accept that your bed would put a serious dent in your budget. You bought tons of pillows that take up at least half of your bed and a duvet guaranteed to keep you warm. 

You hardly meet the required amount of sleep a person needs but when you do get some zzz’s, the bed does the job and it does it well. 

Your room was sacred, and both Tom and Harrison knew that.

Harrison had only been inside your room once and it was an accident. It’s not that you forbade him, it was really just a matter of respecting each other’s privacies. 

Tom had been inside your room twice and none of those were accidents. 

One was when he and Harrison were playing hide and seek. You were quietly watching Netflix inside your room when Tom went in to hide since he claimed that Harrison would never suspect him being inside it. He promised to do the dishes for two days if you let him hide and you did. You were satisfied with his negotiation. 

The other was when he knocked on your door one night. 

“Hey, do you have a bandaid?” Tom asked you as soon as you opened the door.  

You raised an eyebrow at him.”Why?” 

He then showed his bleeding finger which caused you to gasp. “Tom, what the hell?!” 

You opened the door wider for him to come in and you quickly ran to your nightstand to grab the first-aid kit from the drawer. 

“Huh,” Tom hummed and sat at the edge of your bed while you sat on the floor, gently grabbed his hand to look at his wound. “Your room is oddly inviting.” He commented.

You looked at him oddly. “I beg your pardon?” 

“Hm?” You were still staring at Tom, waiting to elaborate on what he said. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that.” Tom quickly apologized as he just realized what he just said. 

“Please, Tom, elaborate before it becomes awkward in the next sixty seconds.” You said almost too pleadingly as you started to clean his wound. 

Tom chuckled. “What I meant was your room is dangerously comfortable.” He said as he plopped himself down causing you to hiss at him.

“Hold still, you dickhead.”

“Seriously darling, if this was my bed, I’d never get up,” Tom mumbles happily as he tried to make himself comfortable, lying in your bed. 

“What were you doing that involved you and a bleeding finger anyway?” You asked. 

“I was trying to cook dinner.” He answers almost shyly. 

You were quiet for a moment, causing Tom to tilt his head over in your direction and look at you. You had your brow raised and disbelief was painted all over your face. 

You, Harrison, and Tom at least try to do some cooking in the means of saving money. It was a pretty smart way to get through their university life without always being on the brink of getting broke. You and Harrison usually took turns in making dinner while Tom was always in charge of breakfast, seeing that he was always the first one to wake up early. 

This set up was also made because Harrison claims that he doesn’t trust Tom with a knife. 

“I was trying to prove to Harrison that I can make pasta without getting myself wounded in some type of way!” Tom said defensively.

Harrison was right. 

You rolled your eyes playfully at him and finished up cleaning his wound. You rummaged through your kit, looking for a bandaid when you found a certain one that your friend gave you as a ‘gift’ from their trip to Japan. “There, all done.” You said after wrapping his finger with bandaid. 

“Thanks, Y/N. Sorry to-” Tom stopped himself when he raised his hand to look at his newly-treated wound and saw the pink, Hello Kitty bandaid that was staring back at him. 

You pulled a tight smile. “Make sure you change your bandaids every day! I have more if you need them.” You said innocently at him.

“Oh, darling,” He stood up to cup your face “I’ll make sure to knock on your door every day so you don’t worry too much.” He replied as he gently removes his hand from the side of your face. 

You dropped your smile and pushed Tom towards the door. “Bye, Tom.”

Now that you’ve thought about it, this whole “it’s Halloween! take a break at least!” thing only makes you want to leave all of your work behind and just crawl up to bed.

Harrison finally stepped out of his room, looking like he’s finally ready to intoxicate himself with alcohol and release himself from the stress this semester has caused him. 

“Fucking finally, mate” Tom let out a loud, exaggerated sigh as Harrison rolled his eyes at his impatient friend. “C’mon then, let’s go!”

“Can you calm down, mate?!” Harrison said as he made his way towards the kitchen. “You don’t even have a shirt on!” 

Jesus Christ, why are they always like this? You thought to yourself as you watched the two bicker in front of you. 

It’s always like this. The two would always have a tiny bicker every time they have to do something together. You always reasoned why on earth would they even have to do it together when they always end up bickering. They claimed that it’s all for fun and adds dynamic to their friendship. 

Dynamic my ass. Easy for them to say, they’re not the ones who have to endure two annoying dumbasses. 

“Could you be any louder?” You said in annoyance as you looked up from your laptop. You were about to start writing your paper, that’s due tomorrow mind you, and all you have is a sloppy mess. 

For crying out loud, who even gives out papers and assigns the due date the day after Halloween when they know students are drinking themselves shitless that night? Oh, that’s right, university professors do. 

And these two? Not helping. At all. 

“Yes? Is there something you’d like to add, darling?” Tom asked teasingly. Not without with a huge smirk plastered on his face. 

God, he’s ten times more annoying when he’s fueled by his impatientness and thirst for alcohol. 

“For fuck's sake” You grunted, bringing both your hands and ran them up in your face, obviously irritated. You’ve been roommates with Tom and Harrison for almost three years and until now, Tom can still find a new way to irk you.

Tom chuckled at the sight of you, dreading to pull your hair out due to the overflowing irritation. 

You stood up from the table and grabbed a black shirt from Tom’s pile of fresh laundry, then chucked it at him. “There, put that on and leave.” 

“Hm,” Tom looked at the black shirt that you shoved “Sure this is okay?”

“Yes, yes, now go. I can’t work with you two here.” You waved dismissively at them. “Especially you, Holland.” You pointed out as you looked at Tom pointedly. 

“Is it because you still have a crush on me, darling?” He teased, causing Harrison to chuckle. 

You narrowed your eyes at Harrison, who just grinned at your frustration. “That was a long time ago, ‘ya dickhead!” You groaned, slightly embarrassed that he still remembered that time. Curse the day you and a couple of friends went out for a drink. 

You had one too many drinks when Liz, a friend from your literature class, asked you a question. “Okay, I know you said that you’re friends-”

“Oh, no,” You groaned. “I know where this is going.” 

“Y/N!” 

“Okay, fine!” You raised your hands in defeat. “Shoot.” Fuck it, right?!

“Bed, wed, behead Luke, Josh, and Tom,” Liz stated with a teasing smile on her face. 

“Oh, the choices are horrible!” You exclaimed with an awful amount of concern for such a flimsy game. “Awfully considerate of you to use this version instead of fuck, marry, kill, by the way.” You added as you took another sip from your margarita. 

“Anyway, I’d kill Luke. After lashing out because I wasn’t comfortable giving out my number? Kill Luke, that easy.” You explained which earned a handful of approving nods. 

“I guess I’d have to fuck Josh,” You answered as you were still weighing the pros and cons of your answers as if they really matter. “I mean I’d only have to do it once anyway.” 

It was when you finished your drink when you realized what was left out of the options. “Wait,” You yelled quite obnoxiously. “I don’t want to marry Tom!” 

“Okay, but you have to admit that Tom’s cute.” Liz pointed out. 

“I mean,” You were flustered for a moment, “Y-yeah. Tom’ is good-looking, I’d be lying if I said otherwise but that doesn’t mean I’d like to marry him!” 

“You’re taking this game way too seriously, love,” Zoë commented with an amused look on her face.

“Is that so, Y/N?” A curious voice suddenly popped up from behind you and saw Harrison with a smirk on his face. 

Your friends said their quick hello’s and Haz politely returned them as well as asking how are they doing. 

“God, can I have one night without seeing both of my roommates?” You groaned and buried your face in the palm of your hands. 

“Well, I can grant you half of that wish,” Harrison commented before he asked the bartender for another pint of beer. “Tom’s stuck in the library, cramming for his Physics exam.”

“I told him to start his revisions early. That exam is no joke.”

“Yeah, and the bloody idiot didn’t listen,” Harrison grumbled. “But speaking of the idiot, you were saying you didn’t want to marry Tom? I didn’t even know he proposed.” He teased. “I didn’t even know you had a crush on him!” 

“I will kill you in your sleep, Harrison.” 

“Hey, I was just asking why you didn’t want to marry Tom.” He defended himself with a grin, obviously enjoying how flustered you were. 

“What are you even doing here, Haz?” You asked, plain exasperated. 

“Well, Y/N, I need to have a social life too.” Haz answered. 

“Can you have a social life somewhere else then?” 

“Nah,” He dismissed you and out of sheer reflex, you smacked the back of his head. “Oi!” He yelped in pain. 

You and Harrison were pretty close and you two established that early when you three started living together. You two definitely bickered like siblings and everyone knew that. Tom never felt out of place with you and Harrison as you three collectively found ways to annoy one another.

“It’s okay, YN,” Zoë tried to console you for a moment before adding, “Harrison can stay.” 

“You’re just saying that because you have a crush on him,” You grumbled before taking a sip of your drink.

 You suddenly felt a stinging pain from your arm and saw Zoë glaring at you, cheeks blushing. “Oi, what is wrong with you?” You cried while rubbing your arm, trying to disperse the pain. 

“I don’t see why you’re so deeply affected with the idea of marrying Tom,” Liz commented as she turned to you. “The two of you already fight like a married couple anyway.”

“I still would’ve loved to hear it from you, darling,” Tom commented as Harrison was fighting off a laugh behind him. 

“Keep dreaming, Holland.” was all you said before turning back your attention to your laptop. 

“We’re heading out for Jackson’s party, ‘mkay?” Tom called out, stuffing his phone and wallet in his back pockets.

“Mhm… sure… as if I care…” You mumbled as you started typing your essay, with your draft as reference. You were definitely annoyed at how you were spending your free time.

“I’m just saying!” Tom remarked in his defense “I just thought that maybe you’d wait up so…”

You tore your attention from your paper and looked into Tom’s eyes and said bluntly, “I don’t know how you do it, but you never fail to surprise me with that ego of yours.”

“I’ll miss you too, darling. Don’t stay up too late.” He winked then left.

"We’ll see you later, Y/N. Lock the doors!” Harrison said before waving you goodbye. 

x

You sat up from your bed, sneering at the loud banging noise coming from outside of your door. You blindly looked for your phone and as you found it, you checked the time and it says 3:21 AM.

“For fuck's sake," You grunted as you stood up and marched your way to the living room. You’ve only been asleep for less than two hours and you were ready to kill whoever’s outside your door. 

As you opened your door, you saw a very drunk Tom who looked like an absolute mess and will probably regret everything the next time wakes up. You leaned into your doorframe, as you watched Tom successfully maneuvered his way around the living room. 

“Tom, it’s past 3 AM.” You groaned in exhaustion as you watched Tom, clearly drunk out of his mind, trying to keep his balance. 

“Y/N, baby,” Tom greeted you, “‘ve missed you.” His speech was beginning to slur as he engulfed you in a hug. 

“Holland, you reek of alcohol.” You scrunched your nose in disgust and wriggled your way out of his hug. “Come, I’ll take you to your room.” 

“Nooo,” He drawled out as he dragged his footsteps inside your room, lazily walking to your bed.

“Tom, you can’t sleep here.” You argued as he still didn’t budge and just flopped on the top of your bed. 

“Why not?” He murmured, clearly out of it. 

“Because that’s my bed and you have your own, dumbass.” You replied as you threw your head back, frustrated. At this point, you knew it was hopeless. This was the most you’ll be getting out of him. 

“Hey, Y/N?” 

“What?” 

“I really, really like your bed,” Tom confessed which only made you roll your eyes. 

“Yeah, I figured.” You commented as you began pulling out the sleeping bag stashed in the back of your closet. You often wondered why you bought this as you were never the type who camps for pure pleasure. 

I guess I finally have the reason to use this now, you thought to yourself. You grabbed a couple of pillows and the plush blanket you’ve always adored then began setting them up on the floor where you will be sleeping. 

You stepped outside for a minute to grab a glassful of water and some aspirin for Tom before placing them on top of your nightstand. You also stopped inside Tom’s room for a quick minute to grab some clothes for him to change in. 

You didn’t know why you were doing all of it but there you were, standing in front of Tom’s closet, looking for a shirt and some sweatpants that he could change in. 

After you’ve managed to grab Tom’s clothes, you popped back into your room only to find Tom completely sprawled on top of your bed. You quietly approached him and gently dabbed the damp towel (that you also prepared before coming back to your room) all over his face. 

Brushing Tom’s hair away from his face, you couldn’t help but stare at him in complete awe. Until now you were still asking yourself why you’re going the extra mile for him. 

Maybe you were trying to convince yourself that you’re trying to be a good friend and should be looking after him. 

Maybe you were trying to convince yourself that you’re trying to be a better person and through this, you wouldn’t feel a sense of guilt if you let Tom pass out in the living room. 

Or maybe those pesky little feelings that you tried to suppress were emerging once again. You did have a little crush on Tom but there was no way in hell that you’d ever admit that nor does anyone have to know. 

Tom wasn’t bad. Yeah, maybe he does annoy you out of sheer pleasure but the guy wasn’t the absolute worst. 

Tom always gets you coffee when he knows he went over the line and pissed you off. 

He’d always leave little notes beside them too, saying “sorry if I was being an ass last night :(” or maybe something like “coffee in exchange for letting you sleep in a bad mood”.

You always said they were cheesy but you secretly adored them. You always kept the notes too, you were a sucker for those sentiments. 

You pushed your thoughts in the back of your mind and gently tapped Tom’s shoulder, asking him to wake up.

He eventually obliged, half-asleep as he sat up from your bed. 

“You need to change into more comfortable clothes, Tom.” 

“M-don’t want to,” He murmured as he rested his head on the headboard. 

“You are literally covered in sweat, dumbass.” You argued, “Also, I don’t want my sheets to smell like sweat and alcohol.” 

Tom sighed as he took off his shirt and changed into clean ones. He was about to take off his pants when he caught you watching at him. 

You quickly turned your attention away from him, your cheeks definitely burning from embarrassment. You didn’t even know why you were watching him in the first place. 

You always see Tom shirtless so that wasn’t a huge deal, and there are a couple of instances where you saw Tom walking around the flat with just his boxers on.

Why you were suddenly embarrassed with an almost half-naked Tom, especially when this was not a foreign sight for you, only confused you. 

Maybe, I’m the one who's drunk. 

"Are you decent?” You asked Tom, afraid to turn around as the embarrassment was still running through your veins. 

You heard a soft chuckle from Tom and he murmured “yeah” in response. 

Tom laid back and took the spot at the edge of your bed as you took the sleeping bag that you prepared a little while ago. 

You quickly peeped at your phone to check the time and it was almost 4 o’clock in the morning. You were wide awake now. 

“Hey, Y/N?” Tom suddenly called out.

“Hmm?” You hummed in response. 

“Did you know that flamingos bend their legs at their ankles and not at their knees?”

“I-uh,” You were lost for words, either at this fact or due to the fact that Tom even knows this. “What?”

“Well technically, the joints that we see on their legs are their ankles while their knees are much closer to their body and are hidden under their feathers.” 

“How do you even know this?” 

“I usually do a deep-dive on the web when I can’t sleep.” 

“Oddly enough, that makes sense.” You confessed, chuckling. 

There was a small period of silence and you suddenly wondered where Harrison was. 

“Hey, do you know what happened to Harrison?” You asked out loud. 

“No,” He murmured. “Why are you suddenly looking for him?”

“Well you two left together and only one of you made it home, so I think I get worried for that idiot right?” 

“He probably crashed at Jackson’s or he’s hooking up with someone.” Tom answered. “I told him I was heading home and he said he wanted to stay so that’s my best guess.” 

You picked up your phone and tried calling Harrison but he wasn’t picking up. 

You furrowed your eyebrows and sent a text to Haz saying, “text me if you’re alive. need to know if we need to clear out your room. jk. pls text back.” followed by a “ also pls don’t do something remotely embarrassing. text back, haz. i mean it.” 

The room fell into silence once again and it made you a bit uncomfortable. 

“Tom?”

“Yeah?” 

“Do you mind if I play some music while sleeping?” 

“Go ahead, it’s your room.” He answered. 

You scoffed, “Yeah, thanks for reminding me.” 

“Anytime, babe.”

You connected your phone to the bluetooth speakers and put your playlist on shuffle. Soon enough Cigarettes After Sex’s song “K.”, started playing softly in the background. 

You shuffled across your ‘bed’, trying to find a more comfortable sleeping position. 

“This is going to kill my back when I wake up.” You mumbled to yourself.

“Sleep with me then,” You heard Tom suggest. 

“I beg your pardon?!” You were appalled. 

“Wha- Oh! Not like that, babe.” He quickly took it all back, trying to recover from another layer of embarrassment he just cost the two of you. “I mean yeah, sure, why not.” He joked.

“Ha ha, very funny Holland.” You said sarcastically. 

“What I meant was lay down next to me. Here. In the space next to me.” He cleared out. 

“I think I’ll be fine here.” You answered. “I mean what’s a day of pain right?” 

“Y/N, I think we’re two grown adults. We’re just sleeping together.” Tom tried to explain which only made you wince even more. 

“Tom, you really have to clarify things well.” 

“We’re two grown adults, sleeping in one bed. Nothing malicious there.” He did his best to do it properly. “Besides, are you really passing up the opportunity to sleep on your outrageously comfortable bed?” 

You sat up straight and shot daggers at him. “Screw you, Holland. You should be sleeping on your own bed.” 

He closed his eyes and said, “’m too tired to move.” 

You sighed, grabbing a few pillows and your blanket. You made your way to the empty spot of the bed, right beside Tom. “Don’t try anything, Holland.” You warned him and laid right next to him. 

With his eyes still closed, he chuckled and said, “I promise, darling.” 

“I’m serious, Tom. If you try something, I swear I will curse you and the next three generations of your family to fail.” 

“I’ll marry you then.” retorted Tom.

Flushed from what Tom just said, you grabbed your phone to divert your attention to something else. It was then when you noticed a text message from Harrison saying, “i’m fine. crashed at jack’s lol. it’s not me you should be worried about, it’s tom. the blabbering drunk might finally confess he likes you haha.” 

You quickly turned off your phone as it only left you even more flustered. Right then, you felt Tom tug your hand only to interlace his fingers with yours. 

You turned to face him but he had his eyes closed. You decided to just close your eyes and force yourself to sleep. 

You were slowly falling into a deep slumber when you heard soft mumbles from Tom. “Goodnight, Y/N. Going to sleep with my heart racing is harder than I thought. The things you do to me, darling, you’ll never know.” 

x

hiya again babes, please leave some feedback!!!! whether you think it’s shit or just plain horrible! or maybe you liked it for some reason?? lmao any feedback is nice.

[itsomgitsgreenblogging]

Labor of Love Chapter 4: A Critical Role Fanfic

Let me just say this, this pandemic has really been messing with my productivity. But in weird ways, like, some days I got through 1000 words, the next day I would barely write three sentences. Crazy times. This chapter...we got romantic progression. Which is exciting because that means next chapter will be dedicated to panicking. I love panicking. 

As always, thank you everyone for the mountain of support I have received on this fic. Really, reading the comments and the reblog tags and everything is what kept me going. 

Enjoy!

Read on Tumblr (CH 1, CH2, and CH 3)

Read on AO3

Preview:

Elves didn’t need to sleep as other species did, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t. Essek actively avoided sleep, mostly because he didn’t enjoy dreaming. He didn’t know how people did it every night, go under and then have your brain spew out images and sequences that didn’t make any rational sense. Essek liked everything organized, separated out, and delineated neatly with understandable criteria. Having a strange dream where he was being crushed under some warm weight definitely was not any of those things, and Essek didn’t appreciate it one bit... 

...and then Essek tried to take a breath and he realized he wasn’t dreaming rather immediately. He woke up with a panicked start. Frumpkin, Caleb’s cat who took up residence in the bakery, was laying on his chest and had a paw on Essek’s mouth. He was batting at him like he had expected Essek to be dead, and when Essek awoke the cat blinked at him with wide luminous yellow eyes. He was an adorable mongrel, fluffy and orange...and large. He was at least ten pounds if not heavier and had taken residence on his body like he was the couch Essek was laying on. 

“As cute as you are...I cannot allow you to kill me,” Essek informed the cat. “I’m sorry if I took your spot though.”

“Mrrp?” Frumpkin asked cutely, tufted ears flicking to the front. 

“I know, I’m confused too,” Essek said as he managed to sit up. The cat offered no resistance and slid into his lap, only meowed plaintively at Essek’s movement and the loss of his comfy spot. Maybe it was because the cat looked so sad, or maybe he really was just losing his edge, but when he stood up he scooped the cat in his arms. He gave the cat a quick bounce, like he had seen mothers do for babies. For a moment, again, Essek swore his eyes flashed blue but it was probably the light. The cat cocked his head at Essek like he didn’t understand what he was doing...and to be fair Essek didn’t either. Essek carefully settled the cat down, earning a final meow before the cat trotted off.

The house itself was quiet and dark, the clock on the kitchen wall read 3:00 AM. He must have fallen asleep on the couch...how utterly embarrassing. Essek had to decide what he could do then...would he sneak out without a word or should he leave a note of some kind. He didn’t want the Mighty Nein to think him unappreciative...but he also wanted nothing more than to go home, bury his head in his own sheets, and let the heat in his cheeks fade until he was his usual cold, icy shell of a person. 

A note would do, Essek thought. He would leave them a note, thanking them for their hospitality but saying how he had needed to get home-

His plans were immediately dashed by Caleb appearing in the kitchen. He was dressed in his uniform, the plan shirt and jeans. But his hair was bed-mussed, and he looked half-asleep on his feet. 

“You should still be sleeping,” Caleb noted with a frown. “It’s much too early for you to be up.” 

“Drow,” Essek said, pointing at himself. “I only need four hours to trance...about the same or less sleep when that happens. And you are certainly one to talk, you are a human. Aren’t humans supposed to sleep eight hours?” 

“Baker’s hours,” Caleb explained, rubbing at his face before literally running into the wall. “Sheisse! I gotta be at the bakery for four...didn’t get to sleep until twelve...” 

“Please, before you hurt yourself,” Essek motioning towards the stool by the kitchen island. “I’ll make some coffee for you.” 

Caleb blinked owlishly at Essek, as if now just truly registering his existence for the first time. To be fair, this did all feel like a dream. 

“You don’t have to-”

“I am not good at much in the kitchen, but I do pride myself on making a decent cup of coffee,” Essek promised him. “It at least keeps me alive and functional. Now, if you don’t mind?” 

Caleb sat down, following Essek’s request. There was an ancient looking percolator on the backburner of the stove, which Essek was grateful for. It wasn’t the Marquesian Press that Essek had in his own apartment, but Essek was certain it would brew a decent cup. Instant cup coffee machines were a new invention, and certainly were useful. But the coffee itself was just never as good as when you took the time. 

Essek filled the percolator with water and set the water to boil. He measured out a solid four tablespoons of ground coffee he found nestled between a sugar bowl and a honey jar, packing it down, placing the lid on the filter before putting it into the boiling water and covered it with the cap itself. As he let that boil and steep away he caught a glimpse at Caleb, who had mostly melted into the island, head in his arms. Frumpkin was curled next to him, tail swishing lazily. It was the tail running against Caleb’s bare arms that made Essek notice the scars there. They were old...pale against his fair freckled skin and red hair, marking up both forearms. 

Not your business, Essek told himself firmly, taking the bread on the counter and slicing it for toast and popping it in the toaster. Essek spied some apples, in a bowl and set to cutting them up as he waited. He didn’t know what Caleb even ate in the morning...he just hoped that toast, coffee, and an apple would be enough. As he chopped, Essek felt like he was doing some pale imitation of a housewife from an Empire sitcom. Essek didn’t make breakfast...he didn’t even cook. When he was on his own he made smoothies or rice. He bought breakfast at Caleb’s bakery in the morning when he didn’t. Essek didn’t understand this strange urge to do this, but felt if he didn’t he would be crippled by his own conscience. 

The coffee was done, and the toast popped up around the same time. And Essek settled it all in front of Caleb, who was definitely asleep from the way his breaths drew in and out calmly and deeply. Essek looked at Caleb for a long moment, taking in this quiet stolen moment of intimacy. Essek wanted to let him keep sleeping, but as Essek knew so well, Caleb’s job was important to him...and it was important to Essek. 

Gently...Essek settled his hands on Caleb’s forearm and hand. Essek could nearly feel the warmth emanating from him where he was sitting, pressed recently out from his sheets, and cringed at the thought of his cold hands pulling him from that. Caleb made a noise, a soft...vulnerable release of breath and Essek felt like his heart was being wringed dry...dragged out from whatever dark musty cobweb covered corner that Essek hid it in because Essek had never wanted to kiss someone so badly before in his life. 

“Caleb,” Essek murmured, forcing his voice to be calm and even. 

“Hm?” Caleb asked drowsily, attempting to drag his arms closer to his head...a strangely boyish and charming attempt to hide from waking up. 

“How do you take your coffee?” Essek asked him quickly removing his hands (even though he could have lingered in that moment forever), and this drew Caleb up...eyes fluttering open and squinting blearily. “And what would you like on your toast?” 

“A little milk or cream...whatever we have in the fridge,” Caleb said, rubbing his face and running his fingers through his hair as Essek opened the fridge. When he turned back, his curls were even less tamed then before. “And...just butter, there’s marmalade in the fridge too.” 

“There,” Essek said, pouring in a dash of milk into the coffee and setting the butter dish and bright orange fruit preserves on the table next to it besides the cut up apple. “Eat and wake up.” 

“You didn’t have to do this,” Caleb said, reaching for the mug as Essek poured his own cup. 

“No, I didn’t. But what can I say, I’m a kind and caring person,” Essek said with a sarcastic smile, taking a sip from his own mug. The coffee was smooth and had a nice body to it. “But please...this is just the bare minimum.” 

“It’s good,” Caleb said, his voice dipping and his accent drawing out the vowels. He took a second drink before giving Essek a look with humor glinting in his blue eyes. “You wouldn’t be in the market for a job as a barista, would you?”

“Oh please,” Essek said with a roll of his eyes. 

“I’m not kidding! You are obviously very talented.” 

“That’s my secret. I’m good at everything,” Essek said, raising his mug to hide his smile, basking at the compliment.  

“Oh? Really?”

“And I’m terribly competitive. Give me your recipe book and teach me to bake and I’ll put you out of business in three months.”  

“That I don’t doubt. I certainly wouldn’t want you as a business competitor,” Caleb chuckled. 

“Thankfully for everyone, I am not in business,” Essek said, sitting across from Caleb. “And I also can’t bake so the Xhorhaus Bakery is safe for now.” 

“We will all sleep well tonight with that knowledge,” Caleb said, slathering his toast with butter and marmalade and taking a bite. “Why don’t you have some?” 

“I’m fine,” Essek said, taking another sip of his coffee. “I won’t be hungry for a few hours yet if at all...I find it difficult to eat in the morning generally. I’m content where I am.”

 “Keeping me company?” Caleb asked with a quirk of his lips. 

“If you don’t mind it,” Essek said. 

“No, I enjoy your company.” 

“You are a rare breed,” Essek noted. 

“Clearly they are lacking taste,” Caleb hummed. 

“Perhaps,” Essek said with a smile. 

“It’s too early for you guys to be flirting,” Beau said as she burst into the kitchen. Essek felt his face heat up. “Sweet, is that coffee?” 

“I believe it’s time for me to go regardless,” Essek said, moving by Beauregard to settle his mug in the sink, shoving everything down where he couldn’t feel anything because he needed to focus and escape this situation as quickly as possible. Her words were echoing in his head, thrumming like his desperate heartbeat. “Enjoy the coffee.” 

“Essek,” Caleb said, sounding hopeful. “This was fun...we...we should do this again sometime.”  

“Ah, yes-I mean, sometime, yes,” Essek said, cringing as he grabbed his coat and hastily yanked on his shoes. 

He was out the door at a solid half-run, shoving his hands in his coat pocket, dragging out his keys and jabbing them into the ignition. He was halfway down the street, holding back a scream as he did so. Do it again sometime, Caleb wanted to do it again sometime. How? Why? It didn’t make any sense. But Essek couldn’t control the desperate beating of his heart and the heat in his face and the way his stomach was full of a fluttering sensation he couldn’t name. 

Flirting. She was right, he had been flirting! Flirting with Caleb. As if that was supposed to help him or this or make anything better? Essek couldn’t think that way, but that was the problem he hadn’t been thinking. What on Exandria had he been doing? Making him breakfast and falling asleep in his damn house with not a care in the world and…! He stopped at a red light and watched a couple cross, pushing their kid in a baby carriage. Then, it smacked Essek in the face like a fireball. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

...he was in love, wasn’t he? This wasn’t just some vague interest or errant attraction. He was in love, Essek was in love with Caleb. 

Someone honked at him and he realized he'd been sitting at a green light. Thankfully moments later he turned into the parking for his own building. He settled his forehead against the steering wheel, letting the waves of emotion wash over him. Essek wanted to scream. What was he supposed to do? What did people do when they were in love? How did people handle it? How was Essek supposed to deal with this situation? 

“Alright, Theylss. It’s time to think. What do you want?” Essek demanded of himself, staring at his own reflection as he pulled down the mirror. Essek looked exhausted and vaguely unhinged to his own eyes. “Screw the rest of them, what do you want?” 

What does he want? He supposed that was the million platinum question. Did he want this to be a light flirtation? Something hot and heavy and fast? Or did he want something to build his life on? Caleb wanted to do it again sometime...wanted to spend time with him and banter over coffee. And Essek found that he wanted that more than anything he could imagine, wanted it so bad he could almost taste it like coffee and sweets and something warm that he could dwell in forever. 

But what if I ruin it? There came the part of Essek that he just couldn’t ignore. You’ll get hasty, you’ll make a mistake, and then the way you are won’t be a choice anymore...it’ll be your fault. It’s not safe. But...could he live with himself if he didn’t try? 

“Nothing I do is safe,” Essek told himself sternly, snapping up his mirror and exiting the car. 

---------

So now that Essek had realized that he was in love with Caleb and wanted something to happen with that love, what was he to do with that information was on his mind? Well, he knew what the next logical step was. Most people that desired a romantic relationship with someone else asked that other person on a date. 

“A date,” Essek muttered, splashing his own face with water and then getting to work on his cleanser.  

What would Caleb want? Essek didn’t really know enough about him to know. He wanted to learn so badly though, so the date itself should be conducive to learning. Essek, also, found most of the trendy dates they covered in the publication to be outright cringe worthy. As if the stress of trying to escape from an escape room would be good to test out a spark? Dinner perhaps? Everyone ate dinner. He could ask Caleb out for dinner. If he got the feeling it was going well...then maybe it could be a date. If not, he could just commit to enjoying Caleb’s presence and friendship and pine like a lovesick fool. 

“Don’t rush into things,” Essek warned his reflection, smoothing on moisturizer and looking at himself critically. As usual his skin looked unmarked and unblemished...but...he could always go for a facial. His hair too could be done to be the tiniest fraction neater. It might be worth going to the bath house...but no, he was overthinking it...like always. He just needed to do it, find the right moment and ask Caleb out. 

Essek went to the bakery that morning as usual, though nothing else about the situation felt like normal. The line was full of the usual customers, the regulars that Essek could almost consider them acquaintances at this point even if they had never spoken a word to each other. The orc secretary from the building across from Essek’s, the drow woman who was always bouncing a baby or pushing a carriage, the dwarf running over for his coworkers from the auto shop two doors down.

Essek got to the front of the line, and saw Caleb there. He looked tired, but smiled as soon as he saw Essek. There was flour splashed against the front of his apron, and the dusting of something pink on his cheek, and Essek swore he had never seen a man so beautiful before in his whole damn life. Who knew that knowing someone and loving them could make them more beautiful? It all had to be brain chemistry, it couldn’t be really true, but it felt true.  

“Guten Morgen,” Caleb said. “The usual?” 

“Ah, yes, and what do you have for breakfast today?” Essek asked, his voice normal to his own ears (thankfully). 

“Jester was in the mood for some doughnuts, so I’ll be happy to put together a dozen for you,” Caleb said with a little smile. Jester. She was dancing behind the counter on the other side, chatting with usuals. She spotted him and waved, and Essek waved back numbly. She was beautiful, that was just plain to see. Essek wasn’t attracted to women like that but he knew it to be true. Caleb had smiled about Jester...what if? No. Essek scolded himself. It didn’t hurt to ask. 

“Yes, I’ll do that,” Essek said, not really thinking about the logistics of twelve doughnuts. Someone would have to eat them...he couldn’t horde them to himself, after all. (Even though each individual doughnut was probably delicious enough to warrant such behavior.) 

“I believe you’ll especially enjoy the black moss one,” Caleb said motioning to that specific doughnut in the case, punching in his order. 

“Receipt today please,” Essek said, the thought suddenly springing into his head… a plan sprouting quickly.  Caleb printed out the receipt for him and turned to gather up his doughnuts. As he did so, Essek scrawled his number with his name on the back and slipped it into the tip container before Caleb turned back with his box. 

"Have a good day," Caleb said with a smile. 

"Yes, you too," Essek said, stomach twisted in his anxiety as he rushed out the door. 

Ball was in his court now. Caleb could text Essek, or he wouldn’t. And then if Caleb did decide to text Essek, Essek would ask Caleb out to dinner. Really, it was a perfect solution to the problem he was facing (which was, of course, the issue of the fear of being known). 

Essek arrived at work carrying both the drinks and the box of doughnuts. He handed Quana’s and Leylas’ regular orders to their secretary and then settled down at his desk as he waited for the first meeting of the day that would begin in approximately fifteen minutes. Leylas was meeting with some TV producer and a creative director to hash out exactly what she did and did not want aired on TV. He eyed the box of doughnuts, before flipping the lid just to satisfy his curiosity. 

Each doughnut was frosted with different decorations. There were two plain glazed, two chocolate glazed, and one plain and one cinnamon sugar it looked like. The rest were filled doughnuts, dusted with confectioners sugar or frosted with flowers or fruits decorating the sides. He picked up a doughnut, unable to resist it. It was quite beautiful, golden brown with a white frosting a single beautifully piped flower. Essek took a bite, if only to sate his grumbling stomach and wasn’t disappointed. It melted in his mouth. Black moss was a recent phenomenon, and the taste was much like a high quality green tea, subtly sweet and with deep earthy notes. But of course...the frosting was vanilla and almond and just the hint of lemon...sweet and deliciously sour and pairing perfectly with the filling.

Lemon again...that fool, Essek thought feeling oddly emotional because Caleb knew what his favorite flavor was. Not that he had ever had a favorite flavor before, but he didn't think anyone had ever cared enough about him to learn. 

Essek looked at the top of the doughnut and realized that though there hadn’t been something written before, there was something written now. It’ll be a sweet day! The handwriting was feminine and looping and had hearts in place of periods, most likely Jester’s doing. Essek smiled at the doughnut in his hand. It was a very cute, and as always inventive use for the spell Illusory Script. He wondered how they had worked out that trigger. It was almost a shame to eat it, though, he finished the whole doughnut quickly. When you were eating something that disappeared like that, it almost felt like you were eating air. It was too good to feel bad about, though he made sure to close the box and push it as far away from his hands as he could. He definitely didn’t want to push his luck on a second doughnut. 

Essek was in the middle of these thoughts when his phone vibrated, startling him out of his own brain. Essek nearly slammed his phone down onto the desk, screen down so he didn’t have to look at the message at first and then felt stupid for doing so. What if it was just a business text? What if it was his boss? He couldn’t just flinch and dither around all day like he was some lovestruck bachelor waiting by the door for word of an accepted engagement offer. He had a job to do, he couldn’t forget that. After all, his job was one of the one things that he was actually good at. 

He turned his phone over, and saw it was definitely not his boss. It was an unknown number...and under it a message for him. 

Hello this is Caleb. Is this Essek?  

Oh Luxon, it was happening. He had really texted him. What did people normally do in situations like this? How long should he wait before texting back? It had already been two minutes since he had received the text, that should be an appropriate amount of time. After all, for work, under five minutes tended to be the sweet spot for communication. But what should he say? That was a whole other can of wyrms. 

Hello, yes, this is Essek. Essek sent as he mushed ahead without a second thought, and then was immediately washed with a sense of existential dread so strong he wanted to bash his head into the desk. He reread his own response, wishing that he had majored in the dunamantic study of reversing time. He was being so formal and stilted. How was he supposed to bring up the idea of a date naturally in this state? Obviously someone was punishing him for his avarice and naturally impossible good looks. Really this was what he deserved. Maybe he shouldn’t have bad talked the Luxon so much as an angsty teenager. 

His phone buzzed in his hand, making him nearly drop it. He scrambled to right it in his fingers and read what Caleb had written. 

I’m glad, I had totally forgotten to ask you for your number the other day, was Caleb’s response. And then the second message came through before Essek could truly emotionally process what was going on, I meant what I said, I would like to spend more time with you if you would like?

“Oh fuck it,” Essek muttered to himself, throwing caution to the wind. 

I was wondering if you would be interested in dinner? Essek sent, feeling his heart pounding in his ears as he did so. He waited for what seemed like an eternity, of agonizing over a single message because what if Essek had read this all wrong? What if Caleb didn’t feel the things that Essek did during those stolen moments during the day? 

His phone pinged, and Essek scrambled to open it up. 

Yes, I am. 

Just that was enough to relieve the pressure he had found on his lungs, allowing him to draw in a deep breath. Caleb was interested. He was interested in dinner. Then to his surprise another text came through immediately after. 

Tonight? 

Tonight? Essek thought, mind reeling. He didn't have anything going on tonight. He could do it tonight. Could he get a table anywhere decent though was the question. He pulled up a certain restaurant and looked at the number. He may need to name drop. But, he could probably get it done...after all he was Essek Theylss. Getting things done how he wanted them was what he did for a career. He quickly managed to secure a table, and within five minutes he was typing back to Caleb.

Tonight it is. I’ll send you the address.  

I’ll see you then. 

Essek settled down his phone, attempting to control his urge to smile as he spun in his chair. Tonight, a date with Caleb tonight. Even if Caleb hadn’t read it as such, he could make this work to his favor regardless. Something to look forward to...that was another thing that Caleb had given him that had broken the monotony of Essek’s routine. It took so little to make him happy recently...another new development that was all Caleb’s fault. Just this...the promise of seeing Caleb again was enough. 

“Essek, meeting’s starting,” Quana said as she walked by his desk. Essek stood up, pocketing his phone as he did so and grabbing his tablet. 

“Thank you,” Essek told her as he walked beside her. 

“Did something good happen?” Quana asked suspiciously. 

“Perhaps,” Essek answered, his smile rehearsed...and yet, feeling more genuine than it ever had before. 

------

Essek looked at himself in the mirror again. As always, he looked attractive. The trip after work to the barber had been worth the trouble he thought as he inspected the neat lines and cut of his hair. He still didn’t know if Caleb was attracted to men...or drow. He had heard that some people were particular about species, though he had never understood attraction to begin with so he certainly wasn’t an expert. But...he hadn’t pulled away when Essek had touched his arm...so that was a good sign that maybe he was in luck. Regardless, Essek found it hard to believe that many could resist his good looks. It happened of course, but, his pretty face could only serve as a boon tonight. 

 He had dressed in a charcoal grey suit, and was finishing tying his tie as his phone rang. Thinking it might be Caleb he excitedly picked it up, only to feel his face twist. Ugh. This was the last thing he wanted right now. Looking seriously at the caller ID on his phone, and knowing that if he didn’t answer he would be in a whole world of trouble, he sighed as he answered the call and opened his closet. He scanned the rack he kept of his shoes, looking for something formal but comfortable. 

“Yes mother?” Essek asked her, voice clipped and short even to his own ears. 

“Is that any way to greet your mother?” Dierta asked with a sigh, though she didn’t sound too annoyed with Essek. She had to be used to his attitude at this point in their relationship after all. 

“I’m just a little busy at the moment,” Essek said, picking out a pair of black shoes and setting them down on the floor. “What did you need?” 

“Essek, we’re going to have a dinner tonight with Den VeSunn, and we’ll-”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not available tonight,” Essek said with a sigh, managing to get his first shoe on by shoving it on his foot, but he almost lost his balance. He settled down on the couch, hoping to not repeat that performance. He found the second shoe was much easier to pull on sitting. 

“You aren’t available?” Dierta asked incredulously. “What? Is Leylas having a party or something? I certainly wasn’t invited to one.” 

“No, Mother, I have plans tonight so I will be unavailable,” Essek repeated as he walked over to his dresser and picked out some earrings that capped the end of his ear and dangled attractively without being too ostentatious. He put his mother on speaker so he could use both hands and not stab himself. He doubted that Caleb would find bleeding or bruised ears attractive. 

“You have plans?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” Essek asked sarcastically, and considering the noise his mother gave him on the other side of the line apparently it was. 

“What could be more important than this?” Dierta demanded incredulously, sounding more annoyed than anything. 

“If you must know, I have a date tonight,” Essek said with a snap at his phone, finally losing his well worn sense of patience. “Does that satisfy your need to know?” 

There was silence on the other side of the line. It was long enough that he stopped what he was doing and confirmed that his mother hadn’t hung up on him. For a dark moment Essek was sure he had given his mother a heart attack and would now only be known as that poor son of a bitch who had killed his mother by having a social life. He realized then that he didn’t think he had ever told his mother about any of his dates before...not that he had gone on more than a handful, and he certainly hadn’t gone on any within the past five years. Oh Gods...what have a I done? Essek thought hopelessly. Why did I feel the need to tell her?  

“Really?” Dierta asked, sounding shocked and delighted and stopping Essek from texting his brother to go check on her. Essek could feel a headache coming on. “What’s her den? Her name? Her profession-” 

“Goodbye mother,” Essek said forcefully before hanging up the phone. 

Essek shook his head and fixed his tie, looking in the mirror one last time before grabbing his keys. The drive itself felt like the longest ten minutes of his life, but thankfully he wasn’t inundated with calls from his mother or the den demanding answers. When he got to the restaurant he was about five minutes early, just as he had planned. He confirmed with the host about his seat, and he was brought over to a table in a more private section of the restaurant. 

“Would you like to start with a drink, sir?” a waiter asked him. 

“Just water to start, I’ll wait for my companion before ordering anything,” Essek told him, and as the waiter smiled and went to do as Essek asked. He took a moment to put his phone on silent and tuck it away in his jacket pocket. He didn’t even want to think about seeing any of his mother’s texts or emails from work. For once, Essek was truly on his own time. 

It was a moment later that Caleb appeared, looking winded. He was dressed in a white cable knit sweater and tan slacks, his hair was half pulled back in a bun with red curls lapping at his neck. When he saw Essek he smiled, looking relieved. 

“I’m sorry, I got a bit caught up with the bakery,” Caleb said breathlessly. “Guten abend, Essek.” 

“No, no, it’s fine,” Essek said, motioning to the other seat in front of him. Caleb took it. “Thank you for joining me tonight.” 

“Please don’t thank me,” Caleb said with a warm...hopeful smile. “I’ve been looking forward to this since you asked me.”

“I...same,” Essek said, unable to come up with anything else to say really. What could he say? I’m sorry if this is an inconvenience but I’m in love with you and if you don’t love me back I’ll respect that but pine after you for the rest of my life like some sort of tragic widower waiting for her long lost husband who had been taken by the sea? Granted, that was all true, but it sounded pathetic when he laid it out like that. 

“I’ve never been here before,” Caleb said as he looked around. “I don’t think I’ve eaten traditional Xhorhassian food before either.”

“You haven’t?” Essek asked, surprised. 

“I have to admit...it’s a bit intimidating,” Caleb chuckled. “I grew up with a selection of eating potatoes, bread, and maybe a turnip or an apple for some variety.” 

“There’s a lot of fermenting...vegetables especially. Use of mushrooms, and of course, whatever animals that are natural to the region. Also, of course, rice. Tell me, how are you with spice?” 

“I’m fairly alright with spice,” Caleb said. 

“I have a few favorites here and I’d be happy to point them out to you, but, when the waiter comes back we can order drinks first. No need to rush,” Essek said, spying the waiter returning with water. “Order anything you’d like.” 

“This has to be one of the most expensive restaurants in the city,” Caleb said, sounding incredulous as he looked at the menu and did a double take. 

“And I’m paying for it,” Essek told him, crossing his legs. “Whatever you want, I’m completely serious.” 

“You shouldn’t-”

“Don’t argue with me, just enjoy this.” 

“Alright then...there’s a saying about a gift and a horse but I don’t remember how it goes. Ach, I don’t know enough about Xhorhassian liquor to make an educated decision,” Caleb said, mouth quirking in a teasing smile. “And I don’t know what would go best with any food.” 

“Well, for once I believe I have an idea. My personal favorite appetizer here is the Turtle Bone Soup, though, the spicy fried spider legs are quite good too. I’ve heard that...for your reference, turtles taste a bit like beef and spiders are like crab.” 

“Turtle?” Caleb asked with a surprised laugh. “I haven’t had a turtle before in that way...I’ll have to give it a try.” 

And so Essek ordered the two bowls of soup and a platter of the fried spider legs to share. As they waited they began to talk, first about the Mighty Nein itself. Essek couldn’t help but indulge his curiosity about what pit fighting must have been like. The answer was terrifying but very profitable. Caleb also recounted his first meeting with the other members of his friend group, laughing about how Jester had nearly broken all the windows in the bar with her demonstration of her magic. 

“So she is a cleric?” Essek asked, taking a spoonful of his soup. The food itself was delicious, the meaty savory broth a perfect pairing with the spicey sauce and sweet meat of the spider legs and the cold root vegetable slaw that they served on the side. It was strange...he had eaten this exact order before...but he could have sworn it hadn’t tasted as delicious. He wondered if there was a new chef. “I was wondering, though, I hadn’t recognized the symbol on her bracelet.”

“I’m surprised she hasn’t mentioned the Traveler to you yet,” Caleb noted. “She’s quite...taken with him, would be the best way to put it.” 

“My mother is the same way,” Essek commented with a sip of his wine. “She had always been a religious woman, so I’m used to spontaneous religious lectures.” 

“If it isn't rude to ask...what deity does your family worship?”

“The Luxon,” Essek said, “though I’m not religious...don’t tell my mother that though.” 

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. Is the rest of your family religious then?”

“It’s hard to say,” Essek sighed, swirling the wine in his glass. “My mother has had a few relationships in her life, she is long lived. I’m not particularly close to my half siblings as a result of them being...oh, about a hundred years older than me. My brother...well, I wouldn’t say he’s too religious but he’s more religious than me.” 

“You have a big family?”

“Technically. We are drow, blessed with long natural lives and large dens. It leads to relatively complex family trees and strange family get-togethers,” Essek explained. “What about you?” 

“I...ah…” Caleb said, a shadow quickly falling across Caleb’s features. Phantom pain twisted there, like Essek was rubbing salt into open wounds. “I lost my parents a while ago. The Mighty Nein is my family now.” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Essek said, feeling like the biggest idiot on the planet. Unsure of how best to comfort him, Essek squirmed in his seat for a moment trying to think of a response. But Caleb did it for him, as he reached out and settled his fingers over Essek’s hand. Essek stared incredulously at Caleb for a moment, but didn’t move his hand. He couldn’t believe that Caleb was touching him, in a way that could only be read as romantic. He couldn’t believe this was happening. 

“It was a long time ago,” Caleb said, though he looked as haunted as a man who had just suffered the loss the day before. Essek wondered what it must be like to love someone else in such a way. He wondered if that was what he was feeling now for Caleb. Just feeling it for Caleb was overwhelming...he couldn’t imagine having felt like this so many times before in his life and then losing those he had come to adore. How did one bear it?  Just the thought was enough to twist his stomach...to make him want to make ridiculous promises to Caleb like the hero in a romantic drama. But Essek couldn’t do that...he was just Essek. All he could do was this.  

“Tell me about something else then, Caleb, how did you come about spellcasting?” Essek asked, ruefully extricating his hand from Caleb’s as the waiter came back to fill up their glasses of water. 

“Well, at first it wasn’t a hobby,” Caleb said. “Well, as a child I managed a few things with an old spell book my mother bartered from a passing merchant. But I did my compulsory years in the military, as do all men in the Empire. It was there that it was determined rather quickly that I had no talent as a soldier...but I could make a decent mage.” 

“I see,” Essek said. “In Xhorhassian schools you are given introductory courses to most known and legal methods of magic but most don’t stick with it nowadays. Wizardry is a relatively niche subject to pursue.” 

“But you did, didn’t you?” 

“I did, I was top in my class at the Marble Tomes Conservatory,” Essek said with a proud smile. “I...I have to admit...it’s been a long time since I’ve thought so frequently about magic. But I find myself thinking of it often when I’m with you...it makes me happy.” 

“Magic is what you love, ja? Have you ever just thought...fuck it? I’ll go back into it?” Caleb’s tone was light with humor. 

“The thought has crossed my mind before,” Essek admitted. “But I’m good at my job...I find it hard to justify leaving it to chase a dream.” 

“Forget your job for a moment,” Caleb said pointing at Essek with his spoon. “Imagine that money isn’t an issue. What is it that you are most interested in right now?” 

Right now? He thought about it. He was most interested in taking Caleb’s face in his hands and kissing him honestly, but Essek didn’t think that was the answer that Caleb was looking for. But if he was thinking of a socially acceptable answer to the question? 

“I’ve been thinking about the marzipan,” Essek admitted. 

“...the marzipan? I don’t follow.” 

“On the cake...for my bosses,” Essek said before sucking in a suddenly self-conscious breath. “Never mind, it’s foolish.” 

“Nein,  I want to hear it,” Caleb promised. 

“Well… you know how it was discussed that you were going to be using sculpted marzipan to shape into birds...and then utilize animate object?” Essek asked and Caleb nodded, following his thought. “I was thinking about using the spell adjust density to compliment it...give the appearance that the birds fly and then return to the cake.” 

“I’ve never heard of that spell,” Caleb said, sounding utterly enthralled. His food was forgotten in front of him as he leaned in closer to Essek, wide blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “Is that from the school of dumaturgy?” 

“Yes, it’s a second level graviturgist spell.” 

“How fascinating,” Caleb said. “Tell me, how exactly does this spell work?” 

Thankfully this carried the conversation away from Essek and his career to magic, which Essek was far more comfortable discussing. Caleb was excited about the idea, but also seemed genuinely interested in the mechanics and the minutiae of such a low level spell. It was one of the first spells a graviturgist learned in school, and yet Caleb seemed content to discuss how the spell could work in congruity with a spell like flight to both lengthen and strengthen the effect. Essek wished, strangely, that he had brought his spellbook. Not that it would have been appropriate on any other first date, but now he felt foolish for not thinking of it. His wrist pocket nowadays was home to things like his car keys and his portable phone charger...not his spellbook.  

By the time dinner completed, they had managed to work through a few possible ideas on how Caleb could incorporate those spells into an already spell-heavy cake. Essek snapped the check out from Caleb grasp as the waiter set it down, sliding in his credit card before Caleb could even look at the bill. 

“Now that was conniving,” Caleb said. 

“I told you, I am happy to take care of it,” Essek said as the waiter returned and Essek signed the check. 

“Then let me treat you to something,” Caleb said. “Veth’s husband Yeza owns the Apothecary. Have you ever heard of it?” 

“No,” Essek admitted, frowning. 

“It is an old fashioned apothecary in the day, but a nice cocktail bar at night. It’s only a few blocks from here...let me get you a drink, only if you would like of course.” 

Caleb didn’t want this night to end either, Essek realized, hoping his excitement wasn’t plain to see on his face. He was, hopefully...as always...the picture of calm cool and collected. But beyond excited...it relieved Essek. Now it was so much easier to believe that perhaps...maybe...just maybe Caleb felt the same way that Essek did. 

“I cannot abide by the idea that there is a bar that I am not acquainted with in this city so I’ll take you up on your offer,” Essek said as he put on his jacket and looped his scarf. When he finished he looked to see Caleb opening the door for him, allowing Essek to duck out first. Essek looked at Caleb, noting his scarf was in complete disarray and motioned for Caleb to come closer. Essek reached up and relooped the strands until Caleb looked presentable. “There. Now you won’t freeze to death.” 

“I’m a little heartier than you might think,” Caleb laughed, cheeks and nose reddening in the cold. It made the dusting of freckles across his nose and his cheek more vivid, as did the shadow of his beard. He wondered what it was like to kiss a man with a beard. Essek had never done that before...

“Perhaps, but I’ve always been paranoid,” Essek admitted, trying to shake his mind from his desires for two minutes.  

Caleb walked them down three blocks exactly and turned them left once. Essek found that the night air...though cold, was thankfully grounding in these strange dreamlike times. It was nearly impossible to argue that this whole date...it had to be considered a date at this point... so far was just a figment of his imagination when the winter air was biting at his ears and making his earring jingle. They arrived at the Apothecary, as it was advertised on the street. 

The bar itself was pleasantly full, the building was a lot of warm exposed wood and lantern and candle lighting, with herbs hanging to dry and jars filled with various liquids in shelves on the walls. Couples and groups were seated at small circular tables and at the counter-bar. When they walked in, the halfling behind the bar perked up. Essek wasn't familiar with many halflings as they were still a new sight in Rosohna. The halfling man was balanced on a rolling stool. He wasn't traditionally handsome, but there was something immediately comforting about his appearance. He had an open friendly face, accompanied with a riot of untamed brown curls and sideburns, and round glasses that were precariously perched on his face. He grinned as Caleb walked up to the bad, and looked at Essek knowingly in a way that made his skin tingle. He wasn't sure what that meant but it wasn't a good sign. 

"Good evening, Yeza. I don't think you've met Essek. Essek, this is Yeza Bernatto, Veth's husband," Caleb introduced. 

"A pleasure," Essek said with a prim nod, before seeing the halfling's stocky hand pop out from behind the bar. 

"So this is the mysterious Essek! It's wonderful to meet you, my wife's spoke about you many times! Thank you for coming to the Apothecary," Yeza greeted, and Essek took the offered hand as gracefully as he could and quickly dropped it. "Veth will be back out in a minute, but in the meantime Caleb do you want your usual?" 

“Flight of Trost, ja,” Caleb said, his accent delicious on the word trost. Now that was something Essek wanted to drink down greedily. 

“Trost?” Essek repeated as Yeza slid the drink menu to him. 

“The word means comfort in Zemnian, but it’s a kind of beer,” Caleb said and Essek watched the halfling pour the four smaller glasses of beer and arrange them on the tray. “From a region famous in the Empire for it. Do you drink beer?”

“Not really,” Essek admitted, trying to refocus away from Caleb’s voice and back to reality. Beer in Xhorhas was a newer fad, and considering their abysmal track record of growing wheat, anything he had drank from Xhorhas had tasted watered down and stale. He had beers from the Empire before, at the luxurious parties put on by nouveau riche dens, but found it far less pleasant than other spirits. “I prefer wines and liquors.”   

“How about a Health Potion?” Yeza offered, having obviously been listening in to the conversation. 

“A health potion?” Essek asked incredulously. 

“I’m very clever with titles,” Veth said, appearing from the back carrying snacks for the couple on the other side of the bar. She settled her hands on her hips and presented herself like a queen in her own castle. “It’s mulled wine, perfect for this weather. We keep it on simmer in the back.” 

“Sure, I’ll have that then,” Essek said for lack of any other idea and because Veth was Caleb’s friend and Essek wanted them to like him for some reason he hadn’t quite figured out yet. He watched as Veth disappeared and then reappeared once more with a glass mug that she settled in front of him and then garnished with a cinnamon stick and a twist of orange rind. Mulled wine had to be a Empire thing...he hadn’t ever heard of heating wine. In fact, in Xhorhas they traditionally served wine at frigid temperatures and over ice. The liquid was a deep burgundy, and he prepared himself as he took a sip with all of the enthusiasm of a child taking a spoonful of cough syrup or an actual health potion. 

Instead, the drink was delicious. There were the fruity notes of apple cider and the brightness of oranges, the deep flavor of a red wine Essek had yet made the acquaintance of as well as the softer feel of perhaps a merlot and the caramel finish of a port, and had the kick of cinnamon and cloves and cardamom. It immediately transported him somewhere with a roaring fire and a fur rug and a good book tucked next to him by his favorite armchair. 

“What type of wine is this?” Essek asked. 

“It’s from Kamordah, not one the more expensive vineyards...those can cost you an arm and a leg. But even the affordable booze from there is delicious,” Veth said. 

“Veth’s the expert,” Caleb noted. 

“Oh come off it,” Veth said with a dismissive wave before leaning against the counter, her long braids sweeping against the wood. “Or, you can continue to compliment me, I don’t mind.” 

“We all know you are fabulous, my little friend,” Caleb said with a fond look in his eyes. “I knew it from the first time I met you.” 

“Out of everyone in that holding cell, I can assure you, I was the best pick.” 

“Holding cell?” Essek repeated, only because he thought he must have heard her wrong. But instead, Veth planted herself proudly in his view as if she could make herself three feet taller by just her confidence. 

“We met in jail,” Veth said cheerily for someone who had been to jail, and Caleb hung his head in exaggerated despair. Then, immediately she looked suspiciously at him. “You aren’t going to report me right?”

“I don’t care about that sort of thing,” Essek said.  

“Don’t tell him about my sordid past!” Caleb bemoaned. 

“What were you in jail for?” Essek asked, faking suspicion.  

“Public intoxication,” Veth said. 

“Loitering,” Caleb admitted. 

“Loitering?” Essek repeated. 

“Sleeping while poor,” Caleb corrected. “I was roughing it most nights back then, ja?” 

“We both were. But regardless, I’ll leave you two to it,” Veth said with a long knowing look at Caleb, which had Caleb blushing and hiding his face in his beer. Yeza had already drifted off to welcome more regulars to the bar. 

“I didn’t know I was out with a criminal tonight,” Essek said with a sidelong glance at Caleb.

“Don’t look so damned pleased with yourself,” Caleb grumbled. 

“Oh, I’m not smiling about your crimes...which are, I promise, nothing worse than I did in University. But, I’m more pleased at the thought of what my mother would say if she knew I was spending my evening with someone with an actual record of law breaking. I derive great pleasure from her pearl clutching,” Essek admitted with a grin that felt too sharp to be his usual placeholder. 

“Oh? What sort of crimes did a young Essek Theylss get up to in university?” Caleb asked curiously, finishing his first glass. 

“I made sure that everyone had what they needed at any given time,” Essek said with a smirk and a sip of his drink. “I have always been very good at cultivating relationships that benefit me. That’s what breaking the law while rich allows you to do.” 

“...if you weren’t being so hilarious I might be offended,” Caleb said with a laugh that resonated from his belly and filled Essek with warmth, like the simmering mulled wine in his cup. He felt pleasantly buzzed, like he was drunk from just a few sips. But it was Caleb’s presence that was so addicting...so effecting. He couldn’t even remember a time where he had smiled the way he was smiling now...when he hadn’t been with Caleb or the Mighty Nein. He didn’t think anyone had ever called him hilarious. He was sure that if his coworkers or his family heard Caleb say that they would have had Caleb checked in for psychiatric help, and the Essek before wouldn’t have blamed them. But Essek was slowly becoming acquainted with the person he could be around Caleb and perhaps it was the person Essek actually was but not buried under the mounds of baggage he carried from place to place like it was the gravity pulling him straight to the center of the earth. And the more Essek was becoming acquainted with Caleb and acquainted with himself the more Essek didn’t ever want to go back.    

“Perhaps you should be,” Essek dared because apparently Essek was daring now, another recent development that surprised him. Caleb’s eyes had a little heat in them as Essek caught his gaze, and Essek was thrilled because they were flirting and it was going well and it didn’t make Essek feel like he wanted to find the closest window to jump out of. Essek settled his hand on Caleb’s where it was resting on his chair. Caleb didn’t move it, instead he took another sip of his drink and intertwined his fingers with Essek’s. Essek blushed into his cup with his words stuck in his throat, but felt that this could certainly be enough. 

And so Essek soaked up the next hour or so of Caleb’s company. They talked about a wide berth of topics, from philosophy to mathematics to even theoretical spellcrafting. That was the gift of Caleb, he was always able to meet him where his mind was going and find something interesting to say. He was quite unlike anyone else that Essek had ever known. What a gift it was to be able to just be with someone who understood you. It was something that Essek was learning to cherish. But at some point he noticed Caleb’s eyes drooping, and took note of the time. 

“I should be heading home now,” Essek said, and before Essek could attempt to pay for this as well Veth waved at Caleb. 

“It’s on Caleb’s tab,” Veth said, and Essek gave Caleb a look which he met with feigned cluelessness.  

“Let me walk you back to your car,” Caleb said as he stood. 

“There’s no need for that, you are going in the opposite direction,” Essek pointed out to him as they left the bar and stood on the street. Snowflakes drifted into streetlights, casting pale light that made Caleb’s eyes a vivid dark shade. “Thank you...for tonight. I had a wonderful time.” 

“I would be happy to do it again any time,” Caleb promised him, standing close to him now...far more close then Essek could ever have imagined him being. “Your company is truly a great pleasure...there are very few people that I can talk to the way I do with you. I...I hope you feel the same way.” 

“I do,” Essek is what he said. I love you, is what he meant. 

For a moment that Essek swore was suspended in the air, they shared something heavier than a breath...a kiss that was almost softer than a kiss. It set his heart fluttering so he couldn’t have imagined it...the sensation of Caleb’s scruff and the warmth of his hand was too vivid for him to have made it up. It was inquisitive and gentle and all Essek’s and he wouldn’t ever trade it for anything. 

I love you, Essek’s heart said as it finally found its rhythm between Caleb’s kisses. I love you.

[penmansparadise]

Billy Hargrove Imagine Request - Songbird

*I DON’T OWN ANY GIFS POSTED* *CREDIT TO ALL GIF OWNERS*

Here it is, the imagine requested by @hargroveswift​ !! I cannot tell you how much I enjoy writing for his character.  This was an imagine requested from my Tumblr.  So, I mentioned two really AMAZING songs in this one.  One is "Lay It Down" by Ratt, my personal fav Ratt song, and "Songbird" by Fleetwood Mac, also my fav song by them.  Yes, the Fleetwood Mac song has some significance because it is the title of this piece.  Take a listen to both while you read, or not, but you should definitely check them out.  This was your first request and I hope you really like it!!! Enjoy everyone!!! Xx.

Warnings: Mild language (literally its one word, but still)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Choir!Reader

_______________________________________________________________________

You watched him stand with confidence as he told his story. His shoulders rolled back, puffing his chest out just slightly. His arms made a large gesture causing the crowd of people around him to erupt with laughter. You didn’t know what he was saying, you never did, and you probably never would.

Billy Hargrove was the King of Hawkins, and notoriously known as the town flirt. He was beautiful, funny, and way out of your league. Billy was a part of the “cool kids,” and you, with the lack of a better description, were a part of the “band and choir geeks.” You hated labels, but you knew the one that was given to you was accurate. Although you weren’t welcome in Billy’s clique, that didn’t stop you from crushing on him and crushing hard. From the moment he moved to Hawkins, you fell head-over-heels. You loved his cool car and the way he drove way too fast in the parking lot. You liked the way he ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame his messy curls. You couldn’t get enough of him. Everything about Billy was perfect, but you would never tell him that. Instead, for months, you settled on loving him from a distance and keeping your dignity. Things drastically changed one day after choir practice.

You and your duet partner, Sarah, walked out of the school building and headed toward the parking lot.

“So, I was thinking of asking Ms. Harold if we can change the key. I think F sharp Minor would fit us better, you know?”

You fixed your backpack and slowly nodded and hummed a little in the new key.

“It is easier to hit the notes in that key.”

The two of you laughed in unison before Sarah veered away from you.

“I’ll ask her. See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

You gave her a wave goodbye and walked to your car. The sad piece of metal sat perfectly in the parking spot. Opening the squeaky door, you threw your bag in the passenger seat and hopped in. You stuck the key in the ignition and gave it a turn, but nothing happened.

“Oh, please not now,” you begged your 1973 Chevy Nova. Rubbing the dashboard, you gave the key another turn.

“Come on, baby, work!”

The engine clicked a couple of times before going quiet again. You let out an annoyed grunt and turned the key once more. The same clicking noise filled your ears, followed by a puff of smoke coming from under your hood. Your eyes widened before you jumped out of the car. You looked at your smoking car and grabbed your head in disbelief.

“Great, I just set my car on fire. Awesome job, Y/N. Seriously, way to go.”

As you stared at the smoke creeping out the sides of your closed hood, you heard someone approach you. When you turned around, your chest clenched.

“Need some help?” Billy asked, throwing the butt of his cigarette onto the pavement in front of him.

Your mouth fell agape as you took him in. He was wearing a white shirt that clung tightly to his chest, a jean jacket that hung loosely around his torso, and jeans that hugged him in all the right places. You opened and closed your mouth like a fish thirsty for water. He had never been that close to you, let alone said anything to you. His eyebrows rose in question and anticipation. You shook your head before speaking.

“I, uh, it’s, uh, my…my car. It’s, um, the engine,” you fumbled lamely over your words.

A red hue rose to your cheeks as you failed to complete a coherent sentence. Billy let out a light chuckle before tugging at his jacket just like you loved.

“Let me take a look.”

He popped the latch on the hood, and, as he lifted it, smoke billowed out around him. Waving his hand in front of him, Billy let out a stream of coughs. Once the smoke subsided, he leaned forward. Your eyes traveled the full length of his body, and your heart began to jump in your chest. He was even more beautiful up close. His skin was smooth and tanned to perfection. With the sun beating down on him, tiny hints of gold shined in his hair. You could tell he worked out from the way his jacket tightened around his arms. Your stomach did flips as you drank in every inch of his God-like image. The sound of his voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“Well,” he said, taking a step back from your car, “your engine is shot. There’s no way this thing is running without going up in flames.”

Your face fell at his words. You stared at your broken car and let out a huff of frustration.

“Great,” you said mostly to yourself.

Billy took a step toward you and motioned toward his car.

“Do you need a ride?”

Excitement and nervousness blanketed you. You could feel your whole body heat up at the question.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to have to go out of your way.”

Billy let out a breathy laugh,

“It’s really not a big deal. This town isn’t that big.”

You watched as he moved past you and grabbed your stuff from your car. He began walking toward his car without you.

“You coming?” He asked with a light chuckle.

A blush rose to your cheeks again before you quickly fell in step next to him.

Billy’s car was almost as perfect as him. It took every ounce of you not to admire it. You cleared your throat as Billy tossed your things into the front seat.

“Thanks for giving me a lift. I’m Y/N, by the way.”

Billy held the door open for you to climb into the passenger seat.

“You’re welcome, and I know.”

He shut the door and leaned onto the open window.

“I’m Billy, by the way.”

“I know,” you said with a playful grin.

Billy let out a light laugh,

“Glad we’re acquainted,” he said before hopping into the car himself.

The drive was quiet at first until Billy, with a swift flick, turned on the radio. Ratt’s “Lay It Down” started blasting through the speakers. You watched as he bopped around and hummed along to the music. Unconsciously, your head began to nod along to the beat. Before you knew it, you were singing the song quietly under your breath. Every now and then, you could see Billy turn to look at you, but you kept your eyes fixed on the road ahead.

When the song finished, Billy turned the radio down and looked to you with curious eyes.

“What were you doing at the school after hours?”

“Choir practice,” you said without moving your gaze, “I’m a singer.”

From your peripherals, you could see Billy nod his head slowly.

“Hm,” he began, “Y/N, the Rockstar. I can see it.”

You shook your head but didn’t say anything in return. The silence settled on the two of you again but didn’t last very long. Billy, not missing a beat, spoke again.

“Sing something for me.”

Your head swiftly turned toward him.

“I’m sorry?”

He laughed a little at your reaction but quickly regained his composure.

“If you’re aspiring to be a Rockstar, you need to be good at singing. So, let me hear it.”

You let out a huff at his cockiness but didn’t refrain from throwing it back at him.

“I already know I’m good, Billy.”

Billy narrowed his eyes at you and scoffed.

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

The air around the two of you went still for a moment as Billy waited. You closed your eyes and let out a breath before finally giving in. The lyrics to “Songbird” by Fleetwood Mac flowed effortlessly from you. The song was way out of Billy’s repertoire of music, but you didn’t care. You hit each note and run with ease. Your eyes were closed, and your body swayed as you serenaded Billy. Just as you were finishing the last lyric, Billy pulled his car to a stop. You opened your eyes to see Billy staring at you openmouthed. Heat climbed up to your face, and you quickly looked away. You brushed your hair behind your ears in an attempt to calm your nervous hands.

“Well, am I good?”

“Y/N,” Billy said in a whisper, “you’re way better than good.”

You gave a soft “Thank you,” before gathering your things and getting out. As you were walking up your driveway, Billy’s booming voice stopped you.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at 7.”

“What?” You asked, dumbfounded.

Billy leaned a little farther into the passenger seat. You could see the cocky grin playing on his lips.

“You’re going to need a ride to school. I’ll be here at 7, so don’t make me wait!”

He gave a playful honk before peeling out of your driveway and disappearing down the street.

The next morning, Billy showed up exactly at seven and took you to school. From that day forward, he was your permanent ride. Even after your car was fixed, he insisted on driving you everywhere. You didn’t argue, though, you kind of liked the extra time with him. It was only a few months later when he asked you to be his girlfriend.

After that, Billy started meeting you in the hall and walking you to class. Every day, he waited for you after the bell would ring. He would even sit outside the choir room and listen to your practices. When practice ended, he would give you continuous praise.

“Baby, you sounded amazing! I loved it when you did that thing where you started at this note way up here and then went all the way to this note way down here.”

“It’s called a run, Billy.”

“Well, it sounded great! You always sound great, baby.”

Billy began to attend every choir concert and was very supportive. Being dressed up in a concert hall was not his usual playing field. He would often clap or hoot at the wrong time earning dirty looks from those around him. From the stage, you could see him beaming in his seat. After each concert, he would be waiting for you with a kiss and a bouquet.

“You sounded so good, baby. There was this guy next to me who literally started crying during your solo.”

“Are you sure he wasn’t just irritated that you kept clapping during it?”

Your relationship was playful and different. No one ever expected Billy to end up with the quiet choir girl, but you wouldn’t have had it any other way. You loved your badass, silly, and confident boyfriend.

One night while you were lying in bed, you heard a tapping come from your window. You looked at the clock to see that it was after 10 o’clock. A wave of anxiety surged through your body as you stood up and moved toward your window. With shaky hands, you pulled the curtain aside to find Billy. He was leaning against your window lazily. The light from your room cast shadows on his face making it look badly bruised. When you opened your window, you realized that it was not shadows. Billy looked up from his feet, and you saw the black and blue marks strewn across his face. His eyes were red and puffy from crying, and his usual confident stance was gone. His shoulders were slumped, making him look smaller than you had ever seen him. Your heart fell in your chest at the sight of your broken boyfriend.

“Billy,” you whispered before pulling him into your room.

As you closed your window, he sat down on the edge of your bed. You could see a few tears fall down his face as he sat there. You moved to his side and took his large hand and gave it a squeeze.

“What happened, Billy? Did you get in a fight or something?”

He let out a sad laugh,

“Yeah, something like that.”

His voice was thick with sadness and tears. You brushed your free hand over the black and blue marks on his face. He winced a little under your touch making you sick to your stomach.

“Billy,” you began, “what really happened?”

His eyes were fixed on the white carpet filling your room. You could feel his body tense next to you.

“Baby, you can tell me anything. I want to help you, but I need to know what happened.”

Billy was silent for another minute before he finally cracked. He let out a shaky breath as more tears traced down his cheeks.

“It’s my dad,” he said, “he gets angry sometimes.”

You felt nauseous but didn’t say anything. You wiped the tears from his face and encouraged him to go on.

“It’s not the first time he’s done this. He’s been…beating me…since I was a kid. I can’t remember a time when he didn’t hit me out of rage.”

You could feel tears welling in your own eyes, but you swallowed them back.

“Billy, why didn’t you say anything before?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he shook his head and dropped it again.

“Have you told anyone? Your step-mom? Hopper? Anyone?”

The silence that you received was all you needed to know the answer was “No.” You sat next to him in your quiet room before he completely broke down. Soft sobs racked his body as tears poured from his eyes. You pulled him into a warm embrace before lying down with him. With his head on your chest, he melted into your arms. Your fingers raked through his hair, letting each strand curl around your digits.

After a few minutes, he finally calmed down. The only sounds that filled your room were the sounds of both you and his breathing in harmony. You shut your eyes and listened to the soft music.

“Y/N?” Billy asked, interrupting the song.

“Yes?”

“Can you sing that song to me?”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What song?”

“The one you sang in the car the very first time we met.”

A small smile came to your lips before you started singing “Songbird” softly to him. When you finished, you thought he was sound asleep. You shut your eyes and began to drift when Billy spoke.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered into the still air.

You planted a slow and soft kiss onto his messy hair.

“I love you too, Billy. Like never before.”

He let out a long breath before the two of you finally drifted off to sleep, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms.  

[dazed-universe]

The Less I Know The Better.*

DO NOT REPOST. THE PIECE BELOW WAS WRITTEN BY ME.

Your return home has Harry overly eager at dinner.

~ public orgasm, fingering ~

~

Harry has officially signed another 3 album recording contract with Jeff so it was only right the four of us went out to celebrate. We are currently out for dinner at a quiet, little, hidden restaurant in SoHo, bottomless drinks and a four-course meal seem to be enough for the guys so who are Glenne and I to disagree?

Harry has been smiling and laughing all night, he's truly happy. Whether it's because I'm back or he gets to continue doing his own thing for a little while longer, I'll have to ask. "A toast, to Styles, a man of many talents," Jeff says, yells more like, raising a glass as the waiters come over, waiting on the refills.

"I'm really glad that you're home," Harry whispers into my ear, kissing me just below, on my neck as his hand rests on my thigh under the table. That's all I think of it. Looking towards him, pressing a kiss to his lips. "Me too, I missed you, a lot." We smile at each other as he kisses me again.

The food finally arrives, sobering everyone up a little, there's something calming about the buzz in the air or Harry's fingers running up and down the outside of my thigh, tugging my dress down slightly. He removes his hand from below the table to drink, I suddenly feel cold, empty, I miss him even though he's right next to me.

The food doesn't take long to finish with the small but expensive portions and whatnot so the conversation is happening quickly again but this time, I'm the center of the questions. Jeff quizzing me on how work is going, Glenne on how Harry's and my relationship is working out if he's treating me well. The usual questions asked by one's parents.

Jeff begins talking about him and Glenne and something about a holiday, I would pay more attention if I hadn't just seen Harry trying to sneak his hand back under the table, hoping he's just sorting out the tablecloth or something stupid. I feel the warmth of his hand ghost back over my thigh. This cannot be actually fucking happening.

"Harry, your boss is literally sitting opposite us, don't." He looks at me with a puzzled look on his face, acting as though it was simply an innocent gesture, maybe it was. I turn back to listen to Jeff finishing the story he was telling as I feel Harry's hand getting higher and higher up my thigh, over the inside.

I feel a blush creep onto my face, not having the effort to tell him to stop, or the want. However, when Glenne begins to question me again, I more or less immediately regret that decision. "One second," I say as I take a sip of water, playing as though I've got a sore throat, hopefully minimizing the future conversation.

I feel Harry's fingers brush over my clit from the outside of my underwear, causing me to cough into the water. "Are you okay? Do you want to go?" Jeff asks I think with genuine concern but before I could answer, my overly, sexually charged boyfriend butts in. "She's fine, her throat's been getting a little scratchy, the weather probably."

I smile at them sympathetically, silently praying they get the message, they do. They continue talking about some shows they attended and clients they'd booked over the past year or so, interesting Harry more than I on the grounds of it's his job. You finally start thinking he's over his little game when I feel him pull my underwear aside.

I clench my thighs in an attempt to save us both the embarrassment of me cumming loudly in a restaurant. He starts rubbing my clit, running his finger up and down my slit, making sure I stay wet for him. Him knowing how much this is turning me on is definitely a disadvantage, no matter how much I'm enjoying it.

He keeps rubbing until I'm grabbing at his hand in a desperate attempt of not orgasming in front of friends and business partners, my eyes tearing up a little when I realize that's what he wants me to do and he won't stop until I do. I wrap my arms tightly around his and rest my head onto his shoulder.

"Are you sure she's okay? Maybe you should take her home." Glenne suggests to him, only driving him more. He runs his fingers through my hair with his other hand before pressing a kiss to my head. "She's just tired, a lot of late nights, you know that." They believe him, again. They pour me another glass of ice water.

Harry starts talking about tour plans, still playing with my clit under the table in the middle of a high-end restaurant, his boss and girlfriend are still completely oblivious. As he gets more in-depth about venues, set-lists and such, he gets more in-depth with me. He runs his fingers down, getting them covered, preparing himself and me.

He presses his finger into my hole, making me whine into his arm as he presses another kiss to my head, passing it off as me getting irritated from exhaustion. Bullshit. He begins moving his finger in and out of me, curling it, touching me where I need him most, just not with enough pressure or size. I need another.

He pulls his finger out only to plunge it back in seconds later, his middle finger joining, going as deep as his rings, the cold metal up against my slit, making me wetter, I'm sure it's leaking onto the chair. He holds his fingers against my g-spot, applying slight pressure, I bite into his shoulder to stop the moans.

Jeff and Glenne call for the bill, worried that I'm going to pass out in the restaurant, Harry, now on a time limit to get me off, starts finger fucking me as discreetly as he can, flicking his wrist to touch me in all the right places. He looks at me with fake concern, placing his hand over my stomach only to secretly sneak it down, he begins rubbing my clit fast and hard, knowing that I'm so fucking close.

"Cum for me, now, or you're not cumming for hours." He whispers into my ear, pressing a kiss to my cheek, keeping up the caring boyfriend act even though it's completely his fault I'm a writhing, moaning mess. I feel the warmth rising in my stomach as he speeds up both hands, bringing me closer to the edge. I lay my head in his chest as I feel myself let go, cumming in front of at least 200 complete strangers.

[itsakpopalypse]

Lee Jaeyoon (SF9)  Astrology:  How He Loves

“Thank You again for the ,,astrology - romantic breakdown with Lou! Can I request another one for SF9′s Jaeyoon, please?”

A/N Absolutely !!! I hope you like it !!! thank you for requesting! 🌸😍🌹🌹

this is cute!! why are all his other gifs so RUDE

let’s get into it

his chart is 3 earth,3 water, 2 fire 2 air

Sun in Leo, Moon In Virgo, Rising (maybe) in Scorpio

this is an interesting balance

because tbh Leo’s are outgoing, charismatic, a bit self absorbed and incredibly confident

But Virgos are meticulous, detail oriented, and diligent

both are pretty pleasant signs

Scorpio are easily misunderstood and  “quiet” or mysterious at first

here’s the thing, that will literally just be a first impression, because Leo’s are not those things. 

They are ruled by the Sun for a reason, so solar Leo’s are full of life and love and want to better the world around them

Sooooooo when you meet him you might think he is quiet or reserved, he might watch you with sharp eyes

but once he has a read on your sense of humor he will likely open up

expect FIERY FUN

loud and joyful, FLIRTY 

okay Leo’s LOVE attention. they love to GIVE it they love to get it

so he is going to hand out compliments constantly

you will probably be REALLY confused, because this is a COMMON Leo trait. 

Don’t fall for it. With a Virgo Moon he will be shrewd about who he lets into his emotional spaces

he will only actually pursue you if he has decided you passed those tests

Probably a lot more logical than he seems-almost to a methodical degree, especially with his feelings.

So once you’re close you may not REALLY know if he likes you because he may even be a bit distant for a while as he figures it out

this is normal, let him work through it

his Venus is in Libra... so when he has decided he knows what he wants

 I KNOW  you’re thinking flirting gets cranked up right??

here’s the thing. Libras are flirty by nature- but that’s like, just part of their charisma. 

once they LIKE LIKE someone  they basically forget how to person a self call out? maybe👀 

He is looking at this point for the person he trusts most and he is like “wait what a flirting and how do I do it.”

queue suddenly awkward bean

probably tries to show off though tbh 

like if he can get you to come to HIM then he doesn’t have to figure out how to flirt properly

will talk himself UP

he wants you to compliment him pls he is begging

His mercury is Leo so he is very straightforward

can be really stubborn but LOVES if you ask him for advice and help

might offer it without you asking,

in fact this poor boy will probably think that is flirting

why are Libra venus’s such a mess

anyway once he has all that figured out for himself he probably won’t wait to see if you like him back

all that Leo is like... well duh, why wouldn’t they ?? HAVE you ? Met me?

so he will be very confident and direct in his approach

Leo’s also really love a grand romantic gesture so it’s probably something really sweet but personal to you, since that Virgo moon will D E T A I L D E T A  I L  D E T A I L  until it’s perfect

Once he has you OH MY GOD HE IS HEART EYES EVERYWHERE

Libra is ruled by venus and tends to be even more romantic in this position

so just staring at you like you are the entire sunset and sunrise and just 

GUSHING to everyone around him to the point they are SICK of hearing about you 

cute dates that are somehow both well planned and spontaneous??

like how???

 V E R Y physically affectionate

ah don’t you know his lap is for sits??? 10/10 yes? so sit

gentle romantic affection

suddenly silly affection

nose rubbies and forehead kisses and giggles into your lips

tells you how much he loves you by kissing each one of your fingers and then placing your hand on his cheek with closed eyes

he loves affection tell him tell him tell him

if you compliment him back prepare for FALSE EGO followed by ridiculous giggling 

but you have started a war

after that you are going to start doing bigger gestures back and forth that get increasingly more cheesy to show affection

its cute but also gross

one of those couples everyone kinda hates but more often envies

honestly he will be incredibly loyal and devoted, and really excited all the time that you are his how fuckin cute i 

SPICEY TIME BELOW 18 + You know the drill

*softly but with feeling,* fuck

okay here listen

Leos are passionate

Virgos are PRECISE and in control

Libras are GIANT TEASES

this combo is deadly

I hope someone prepared a nice eulogy for your lady bits 

they are in for IT 

So think about this, Libra is teasing, but not super controlling

since this is the venus, one might expect some.. switch energy

okay but how pretty would his whines sound just throwing it out there

👀👀👀👀

Leos’ talk a big game but are actually pretty soft, so I actually see him leaning a bit on the topping from the bottom side

hear me out here

I’m definitely calling big SWITCH energy

he wants to watch every detail of your descent into pleasure

so it will start with slow sensual kisses romantic and sweet

that trail all over and make your knees shake

Libras get off on you getting off on them soooooooo

expect dirty talk to be centered around your pleasure

“You like that?” “Does that feel good?”

“How bad do you want to come for me?”

BODY WORSHIP

tells you how much he loves to see you fall apart

sometimes sex is romantic and slow

he wants to see every detail and memorize it for future reference

very caring and gentle on those times, probably strokes deep and grinds into you until you clench around him,

he’s gonna hiss and warn you not to do that again but he loves it

Probably

Okay, he won’t ask you for it, but 

Probably wants you to tie him up 

LOVES TO TEAS AND BE TEASED REMEMBER

wants to see everything so if you happen to blindfold him after the tying up......... 

good luck he will have revenge

but while he is at your mercy...

pants and moans

cannot catch his breath and cannot keep quiet

will be threatening you about what he is gonna do when he gets out

listen he loves it as much as you do 

i hope you did a good job on the restraining

he means it 

when he gets out ... good luck?

like flipping a switch it’s daddy time.

yikes even i am shook whaaat

what was that you thought you could get away with it?

nope

I am not okay what is this

He’s a tease too

expect orgasm denial until you are positively weeeeaping

and then when you are allowed, you aren’t going to get to calm down

nope. 

expect him to extend that for.. at least 3-4 more orgasms

He warned you

probably will want you to beg and beg and beg, beg to be touched beg to come and beg to stop coming.

aftercare is going to be pretty basic but very sweet

is a huge fricken cuddler

probably grabs your legs and hauls one over his lap and tucks you into that spot between the tiddy and the arm

oooof that’s the good sleepin spot you know the one

giggles like a little as you’re about to drift off and you’re like what....

and he just raises an eyebrow and is like

you should have seen the face you made on number 3. 

maybe next time he’ll film it so you can

HEY GUYS GUESS WHAT I HAVE SINNED

hope you enjoyed the FILTH

I have a few more coming within the next day or so !!