#also yes i will answer the prompts in my ask box eventually i promise

[bubblegumbeech]

My first Phic Phight fic!

For @ecto-american’s prompt

His name was Danny.

That was the first thing he knew for sure was true, when he had first woken up it was what everyone called him, and it fit just fine, wasn’t something off or uncomfortable so he let it settle over him before he tried to speak.

His voice didn’t come at first, and it hurt to try so the nurses made him promise to take it easy for now, to sit back and listen. So he did.

He listened as the people around him spoke at length about how much they missed him, about how they couldn’t wait to get him home again, about how glad they were he’d survived.

The loudest and most talkative of the people that visited him and called him Danny, was a large man in an orange jumpsuit that went on long enthusiastic tangents that Danny had long stopped paying attention to. He was almost always with a smaller, authoritative woman named Maddie, who insisted He call her Mom. They told him they were his parents.

They told him they loved him.

And then they told him everything else.

The first time Danny remembered something it was with excitement, he was still in the hospital room and between the visits from the men in the starched white suits, his parents, and the doctor, he had been wrestling with the feeling that something was missing.

It had only been when Maddie had finally taken off the hood and goggles of her jumpsuit had Danny gotten a flash of familiar red hair and asked, “where’s Jazz?”

His heart buzzed at the question, sure, so sure that it would get answered, that he had remembered something.

But both Jack and Maddie had just looked at him, disappointed, and he couldn’t bring himself to ask again.

Eventually, once the doctor declared him competent and unlikely to slip back into his coma, his parents had taken him home.

There were streamers all over the house and a giant party banner that read “Welcome Back” in thick black lettering and Danny forced out a small smile as he looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings. Maddie walked up behind him and he flinched, his body acting before his brain could catch up.

She had frowned at his reaction, and when Danny, stuttering, tried to apologize she said it was okay, and with a tightlipped smile, she pulled him into a hug.

He forced himself to relax, frustrated with himself. This was his mother, there was no reason for his instincts to be so afraid. Jack had joined the hug and eventually Danny found himself relaxing for real, sure maybe getting his memories back was a slow uphill climb, but at least he wouldn’t do it alone.

Eventually his parents let him go and told him he was free to walk around the house and reacquaint himself with it. His room was the first door on the left upstairs, the bathroom was down the hall and the basement, apparently, was off limits.

So Danny went upstairs into his room. It looked something like a teenager’s room he supposed. There were the posters hung haphazardly on the walls and they were torn at the corners as if someone had ripped them all off the walls before hastily taping them back up. The bed was made too, and there was a lot less dust than he was expecting after being gone for a whole month.

In fact, it looked like he’d cleaned and organized the whole room before he’d fallen into his coma and Danny didn’t know why, but that thought set him on edge. Maybe he was just an organized person?

It was just… he didn’t feel very organized.

He kept looking around. There was that feeling that something was missing, something important to him, and he walked over to the nightstand by his bed. Placing a hand on the polished wood Danny fought the flash of a model spaceship that appeared in his memories. It wasn’t here though and Danny frowned. Was that something else he’d thrown away and simply forgotten?

Shaking his head Danny headed back downstairs, maybe he should just ask Jack, er, his dad? He should really get used to calling them mom and dad. But before he headed down he went to the room across from his and knocked.

Maybe he was being foolish, but he had expected someone to answer, had a name even come to mind. When no answer came he opened the door himself only to find a storage room, nothing but shelves and boxes and Danny scolded himself for the painful ache he felt in his heart.

It was another week before Danny had another memory, and just like the last two, it didn’t fit quite right. Like a piece from another puzzle jammed where it shouldn’t fit. So he’d asked Maddie.

“Sam?” she’d said, a carefully blank look on her face, “Oh! I remember Sam, she was an old friend of yours you used to talk about her all the time. Shame she moved away.”

And just like that, he’d had his answer as ill fitting as it was. Sam was a girl he knew that moved away, the memory he’d had, of her crying face screaming at him to stay awake just stay awake damnit, was probably from a long time ago. The pain he felt in his chest -just to the right of his heart- at the thought of her not being near and that he’d probably never see her again? That was nothing important.

It was another couple of weeks of sleeping in that house, waking up and going downstairs to eat with his parents, to chat about memories he didn’t have and tell stories he never resonated with, before he woke up screaming for the first time.

Maddie had instantly run into his room, Jack not far behind and Danny scrambled away from them both. His mind filled with images of painful green light and the ominous glint of red goggles twisting his reflection in their lenses as they looked down on him.

His parents had pushed past the barrier of pillows and blankets he’d made and pulled him into their arms, rocking him and shushing him until eventually he’d tired himself out from crying and fallen asleep again. The nightmares returned.

Eventually Danny stopped asking questions about his memories.

Either they were incomplete, fragments of something real that had been twisted in time, or they were wrong entirely, figments of his own active imagination. He’d never had a sister, they insisted. It was his mother, Maddie that had stayed up late some nights to help him with his homework and bake him safe, edible cookies as a reward. Tucker was a kid he knew at school, yes, but he’d moved away years ago and they hadn’t spoken in person since.

He had blue eyes, when he looked in the mirror, not green.

It was frustrating, being unable to trust himself- his own memories. If it was anything more than broken, incomplete fragments he’d have argued, insisted they were real.

But then again, he also had memories of Maddie leaning over him, scalpel in hand to cut away at his flesh. And he knew that couldn’t be true; the woman that smiled every time he came downstairs, called him sweetie and kissed him on his forehead every night, wasn’t the monster in his dreams. She couldn’t be.

So he ignored them.

He ignored the moments of instinct when Maddie or Jack went for a hug or a kiss and he flinched, ready for an attack. He ignored how he never seemed able to give a straight answer when they asked about his day, even if he hadn’t done anything interesting at all. And he ignored his nightmares, stuffing towels under his doorframe to muffle the sounds of his screams. There was no reason to keep waking up his parents like that.

But no matter how much he ignored, he compartmentalized, or he forced himself to smile, to hug back, and to spend time bonding with his parents, he never felt safe. Maddie insisted that he was, of course she did, this was his home. But even as he smiled and agreed and let her hug him again, he wanted to leave.

This time his dream wasn’t a nightmare. No scary, well lit labs with beakers and glowing buttons, or disgusting, painful flowers shoved into his mouth. Instead there was the ticking of clocks, rhythmic and constant. A gloved hand gently soothed his hair back, and Danny’s fear seemed so far away.

It was the first full night of sleep he’d had since he’d gotten “home”.

That morning he’d asked for an analogue clock. His parents had been confused, but they acquiesced easily and took him to the store to pick one out. The one he’d ended up choosing was a large ornate antique with little clockwork gears and a loud tick. He was excited to put it up in his room, right above his bed.

He slept better after that, and some of the tension that had been building in the house eased.

His dreams were still mostly nightmares, attacks by inhuman ghostly figures were the most prominent. But they didn’t leave the same bitter aftertaste, fear and uncertainty as the ones with the table, the scalpel, and the round, red goggles.

But now they were interspersed with better ones, fuzzy hugs and fields of blinding white, sitting in a garden pruning flowers as a soft, familiar voice gave him instructions, playing video games as the player character, confident and excited with a familiar presence at his back. And his favorite ones, the ones in the clock tower with the hooded figure and his soft smiles. The ones where he felt safest.

The ones that couldn’t be real, not if what his parents told him was true.

The next time they went out as a family after that Danny had wanted to go to a garden, and while at first Maddie was hesitant, Jack had insisted the great outdoors were perfect for helping him recover properly. Danny had been thrilled and hugged both of them in thanks, their answering smiles were soft and Danny had the thought that it had been some time since he’d seen those smiles reach their eyes.

Danny had a video game he apparently liked to play called Doom, and he was pretty good at it, judging by the level of his character. When he tried to message either of the two friends he had on his contact list though, the game glitched and his info got deleted. Frustrated he tried to reboot the system but the game itself had somehow gotten corrupted and there was no hope in recovery.

Just another thing that was apparently important to him that he’d destroyed or couldn’t find.

The worst was the time he woke with Maddie sitting next to him in his bed, she had a troubled look on her face and he didn’t know what it was he’d done wrong. Had he screamed in his sleep without knowing it?

“Danny honey,” she had said, looking over to him but not meeting his eyes, “do you remember what you dreamed about?”

He’d answered no, he hadn’t, which was mostly true. The only thing he really remembered about his dream was the feeling of safety and the ticking of a clock.

It took a month for Danny’s parents to feel comfortable leaving him alone in the house in order to go to work. He watched them walk out the door, fending off forehead kisses and muttered reassurances that they’d be home soon to check on him and that he should call if he needed anything, anything at all.

Once the door clicked shut however, the smile dropped off of Danny’s face and he set his eyes on the one thing he’d wanted… no, needed to do since he had that first nightmare.

He went to the basement.

The feeling of going down the stairs stumbled over a vague, blurry memory and Danny felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand. This was just to be sure, just to prove to himself that all those dreams, all those nightmares he’d been having since his parents brought him home, were just that, nightmares.

He opened the door at the bottom of the stairs, confused when there was no lock, no resistance at all. Hadn’t they said he was banned from being down here? Why wouldn’t they lock it? Even Bluebeard locked the door his wife wasn’t supposed to enter.

The basement was…

A basement.

There were no spooky ominous beakers of strange and unrecognizable fluids, no haphazard lab equipment lying around without safety devices, nothing sterile or blinking and there was certainly no large metal table to strap someone down on.

It was just a normal basement with boxes and a desk, some chairs, a couple of old pieces of random furniture and Danny let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. This meant that Maddie was right, they really were just nightmares, probably some subconscious latent fear of going home with strangers that he couldn’t remember. That was all.

So why did he feel disappointed?

The next week was full of Danny waiting for his parents to leave before exploring the house more thoroughly. More than once he’d gotten caught in a half remembered routine that didn’t actually fit with his surroundings. Like bracing for a fight every time he opened the fridge, or expecting another flight of stairs after the second floor. Once he’d even risked going outside for a walk, trying to find his school based on half remembered directions that only served to get him lost.

It was a new routine that Danny found himself thankful for.

Not that he didn’t love his parents, he did! But for some reason, when they were gone, and it was just him with his space posters and his ornate ticking clock, and the piles of modified schoolwork that was supposed to help him when it was time to reintegrate into school, he felt a lot more relaxed. More carefree.

That was why, when he’d found the picture, it had felt like his world had crashed around him.

His parents had come home to find him sitting in the middle of the basement, tears long dried, and with the picture clutched tight in his hands, crumpled now with how long it had been.

“You lied to me.” he accused once they were within earshot. He didn’t have the energy to speak much louder than a whisper, but it seemed to echo in the silence nonetheless.

“Danny-boy we can explain-”

“No!” Danny shouted, getting to his feet, “You lied to me .”

Jack flinched back and Maddie stepped in front of him, protective, as if somehow, out of the three of them Danny might be the threat. He growled.

“I trusted you to tell me the truth, I trusted you with my memories, memories that were lost to me . I had a sister! You had a daughter . She existed, she was real, she’s in this photo! Smiling! ” Danny couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, it was all too much. To know that the girl in his shattered memories, the one with the soft hugs and the floral scents, that baked him cookies and held him when he cried at night, was real. And that she was gone, erased by the people he was supposed to be able to trust.

He moved to storm past them, to go upstairs or maybe even outside and look up at the sky and try to make something of the twisting, knotted mess that was his emotions, his mind, his everything right now. But Maddie grabbed his arm before he could, tears spilling from her eyes.

“We didn’t want to hurt you Danny.” she said, voice soft and broken, “we didn’t want to give and then take away.”

She pulled him into a hug and Danny didn’t bother to struggle or try and break out of it, just let her cry into his shoulder as he stood there, waiting for his own tears to dry.

The next day Jack and Maddie left for work with more reluctance, neither one willing to leave Danny on his own again. But worry didn’t pay the bills and whatever it was they were doing at their job, it was clearly important. That was something Danny was starting to remember, all the things that were more important than him.

Danny went to the library this time, determined to start figuring things out on his own. His parents had said that his sister, Jazz, had died in the accident that had put him in a coma. They said they didn’t want to hurt him, or risk him not wanting to recover his memories if they were painful and that grief was difficult to deal with even without the head trauma and emotional conflict.

His parents said a lot of things, Danny was starting to realize. And almost none of it could be trusted to be true.

The first thing he did was look for a death certificate for his sister, Jazz Fenton. After hours of searching, reading every single name that existed in every obituary for this town in the entire month when his parents claimed the accident had happened.

But there was nothing. Nothing at all.

So next he looked up phone records. Any Tuckers or Samanthas he could find, but he couldn’t remember their last names at all, just what they looked like.

How they had been crying over him.

He didn’t know if he believed that they’d just moved away. Then again, it was becoming increasingly clear that he didn’t know what to believe, if he believed anything at all. By the time he’d gotten home it was late, and his parents were already there.

At first they didn’t believe he was just at the library “trying to catch up on stuff” but they calmed back down once he’d shown them his library card and snapped that if he couldn’t even do that much why did they bother bringing him back from the hospital at all.

Dinner had been a quiet affair.

It took another week of library visits and recurring nightmares of dissection tables and glowing ghostly figures that attacked him before Danny gave up on finding out anything about Sam or Tucker. But he still didn’t stop searching for Jazz.

There was something almost obsessive about his search for her, he just couldn’t let it go. He had to know where she was, and if his parents, against all odds, hadn’t lied to him about that ... Well that was something he’d have to come to terms with when he came to it, not before.

He started scouring the Internet for her name desperate to find something, anything on her. And eventually he did.

There was an old article, from at least half a decade ago, that had her picture under the title “Four Teens go Missing in wake of Fenton Investigation”.

Next to her were two equally familiar pictures. Sam and Tucker… and then Danny himself.

Scrolling, desperate to find something, anything to add up the memories he was getting into a clear picture, he began to read the article.

In wake of the Investigation into the Fenton‘s possible abuse, Danny Fenton (15), his sister Jazz Fenton (17), and two friends Sam Manson and Tucker Foley (15), have seemingly disappeared.

The discovery came shortly after Jack and Madeline Fenton were released on parol and allowed to return home to spend time with their children since no physical proof could be found of any alleged wrongdoings.

What could have caused their disappearances remains a mystery. The prevailing theory is that they were involved in a cult that may have demonized the Fenton parents due to their controversial occupation as “ghost hunters”. Another popular theory is that the children fled the results of the case, afraid of the alleged illegal experimentation. Other theories include kidnapping, witness protection, the possibility of murder, and tying up loose ends.

Will we ever discover the truth? It remains to be seen.

Ghost hunters …

Danny felt his stomach drop, a wave of nausea rolled through him and he had to fight off the urge to relive his lunch.

Experimentation?

Nightmares and half remembered memories started clicking into place, finally , and Danny couldn’t stand it. Why were the only answers that made sense the ones that hurt the worst?

Would it have been better if he’d just let it go? If his memories never returned at all? If he just kept living, eating homemade cookies and flinching from hugs until eventually the itch underneath his skin dulled and he could just be happy as he was.

He closed the tab.

There was no one home when he got there, and it gave him the chance to pack what little belongings he had that held any meaning to him at all. The motions were familiar and he had the faintest feeling he had done exactly this before.

Maybe he had.

He’d made it out the front door by the time his parents pulled into the drive.

There was the urge to run, to go back inside and hide and pretend he hadn’t been doing exactly what they caught him doing. But he was tired. He was so tired of feeling wrong and scared and uncertain and never knowing why.

So he held his head up as they got into the car and approached them with their hands raised, cautiously, like he was a wild animal they were afraid of spooking.

Was that what they thought he was?

“Danny, we can talk about this,” Maddie said, beseeching.

He met her eyes with his own. “Will you promise not to lie anymore? I don’t even know how old I am-”

“You’re fifteen son-” Jack interrupted, lying again.

“I was fifteen five years ago!” Danny yelled, his hand tightening into a fist, “I found the article! I read about the case! Five years ago.”

“Danno…”

Oh, he was crying. It was novel almost, Danny had thought he was too tired to cry, that there wasn’t anything more that could hurt him enough to create such a response and he didn’t quite know how to react to it.

He raised his hands awkwardly to scrub the tears away and stepped back, frightened, when Maddie tried to move closer to comfort him.

“Stay back! Stay back…” he looked at his hands, they were young hands, his reflection too, hadn’t changed from the picture in the article at all. Experiments. “What did you do to me?”

“It was an accident.” Jack said, before Maddie stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm.

“We didn’t know Danny. How could we have?” She said, keeping her distance, cautious. “We tried to fix it-”

“Fix what? ” He hissed, “you haven’t told me what happened! You haven’t told me anything!”

“You!” Maddie finally snapped, tears falling heavy down her cheeks. “We were trying to fix you… but it wasn’t working and you just kept getting sicker… weaker… we had to stop.”

It was too much for her, and she turned away, leaning into Jack’s large frame as he comforted her. “We didn’t want to lose you, Danny.” He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You already did.”

Danny left his parents there, crying on the driveway of a house that could never have been a home. He had a clock tower to find.

[pascalpanic]

Fooled Around and Fell in Love (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

@carstwirs: hello lovie I dunno if u still taking but could u do "can u hold my hand" & "I like the way your hands fit in mine" with javier peña please very fluffy and kissy kissy

Inspo: Fooled Around and Fell In Love by Elvin Bishop

Summary: You and Javier, unsurprisingly, are friends with benefits. Javier has a bigger heart than he lets on.

W/C: 2.4K

Warnings: language, nondescript sexual content, lots of fluff and a dash of angst for flavor

A/N: hi!! This was also a combination of my song prompt for @din-damn-djarin’s celebration! I chose Fooled Around And Fell In Love as my song for it, and it fit perfectly with this request! I hope y’all like it bc soft Javi is my JAM!

Sneaking around was key with Javier Peña. The two of you were field agents during the hunt for Escobar; discretion was key in both your work and your love life.

Could you even call it a love life, you wondered? It was starting to feel more and more like love to you, but you and Javier only had each other during the off hours of work, the spare moments in the evidence room. Those were the only times that you could wrap your arms around him, that you could pull him to you by the belt and press your lips firmly to his.

Javier was strong and handsome, gorgeous brown eyes and thick biceps and tight shirts. You’d started fooling around with him late one night at the office, when the two of you were the last ones working. Steve was long gone, you were both frustrated with the paperwork, and Javier looked so goddamn good that you walked closer and stared into his eyes. He looked up at you and put out his cigarette, asked what you were looking at.

You knew his reputation. You knew what he did with women, and you wanted it for yourself. You responded that you were looking at that godawful mustache, I wonder how any girl lets you go down on her with that thing, and he pulled you down to him by the shirt and asked you if you wanted a trial. And you kissed him hard, with tongue and teeth and it led to you riding Javier right there in his office chair. It was so good that you kept going, sneaking around the office and his apartment and yours and anywhere you could get him.

The sex was fantastic, even better with the idea that it was forbidden and discreet and could never see the light of day. The nights you’d spend in Javier’s bed, on his couch, in his shower. Wherever he could get you, he’d take you, and you were more than willing to oblige.

After you ravaged each other, after you’d thoroughly marked the easier-covered patches of skin on each other’s bodies, after your lips were reddened and swollen and bruised, that was when the moments of truth came. Your head would rest on Javier’s chest while he’d stroke your hair, murmur sweet nothings to you. And they were truly that: nothings. Words that didn’t mean or promise shit when these excursions had to be confined to closed bedrooms and locked supply closets in the embassy.

No matter how secretive Javier could keep himself, Steve could always read through his screen. He knew the man like he knew his wife, maybe even better since he was a man like him. He could see each little cog turn and tick inside of his brain. He could notice the way his fingers would tap against his desk in a different rhythm when he was craving a cigarette from when he had to go piss from when he was anxious.

So even though you two had smirks on your faces as you went your separate ways, Javier sneaking from the evidence room three minutes before you would, Steve had always known. He’d noticed the way your legs were a little more wobbly than they were before in your heels, the way Javier was in a better mood for the rest of the day.

Steve had also noticed the moment where Javier had fallen in love. He’d returned to his desk with a smudge of your signature lipstick under his jaw that he’d missed. Steve didn’t comment. Javier’s smile looked smitten, not smug. His pen tapped a different rhythm against his desk. It was a new one, one Steve had yet to learn and file away. He learned it as the rhythm he’d tap out when he was in love.

You’d entered this situation with Javier with an understanding that this would be like anything else he’s ever done, that he’d continue this as a casual dalliance and that he’d move on soon. You were friends at work, and that came first and foremost. The sex would end eventually, and you’d both have to move on. Neither of you expected to fall for the other.

-

Javier is a creature of habit, despite the fact that he likes to think he’s unpredictable. He comes home from work at some godforsaken hour late at night, he drinks a glass of whiskey. If he has any energy, he calls up his latest plaything. If he doesn’t, he downs a second glass and passes out in his bed.

Tonight, Javier is in a melancholy mood. His glass of whiskey sinks him lower into this dark hole, and when you answer your ringing phone, he is not flirty or sexy or suggestive. “Hey, dulzura. Wanna come over?” He asks, his voice exhausted.

You frown a little. “What’s wrong?” You ask through the phone, wedging the receiver between your ear and your shoulder.

Javier sighs. “Nothing. Just… could use a little something to make it feel better. Or someone.”

A small smile forms on your face from his weak effort to be flirtatious. “I’ll come right over, Javi,” you inform him, and he has an equally small smile on his face.

A few minutes later, you knock on his door. Two stoic faces turn to smiles as you see each other. It isn’t typical of your relationship to be affectionate. You’re either fucking or you’re professionals at work. But Javier needs it, you rationalize, as you throw your arms around and hug him tight. Little does he know that it’s equally as much for you as it is for him. It takes him a second, but he wraps his arms around you too and pulls you to his chest. “Bad day?” You murmur and nuzzle your nose into his neck.

Javier sighs. “Yeah.”

You press a soft kiss to his skin and look up at him with a smile. You brush his dark hair back from his forehead as you look into his eyes. “What do you need, hm?” You ask in a quiet voice, tilting your head as you look at him.

He can’t say what he really wants, what he needs. He needs you to hold him for the rest of the night, to talk to him softly in your beautiful voice that soothes all of his nerves, to kiss his skin just like you did earlier but do it over and over, all over his body, not even in a sexual way. “You,” he mumbles just as quietly.

You chuckle a little. “I don’t think we should fuck tonight, Javi,” you admit, a hand on his chest.

“That’s not what I meant,” he says and shakes his head. You’re confused, and your brow furrows lightly in confusion in a way that looks so goddamn adorable that Javier wants to scream and shout. “Just… stay here with me?”

You nod, your eyes still confused but your heart softening. This is going to spell trouble, especially with your recent realization of how painfully in love with him you are. “Of course, Javi. Can… how about I make us dinner?” You offer.

He shakes his head. “We can make it together,” he says, leading you to the kitchen. He opens the fridge, which is embarrassingly bare. You go to a cupboard and pull out a box of pasta and a can of sauce. He sees it and smiles. “That’s perfect,” he nods, filling a pot with water and putting it on the stove.

All of your words are somewhat hushed and quiet, as if either of you is afraid to break the calm of the moment. The domesticity of it all. Javier turns on the burner on the stove and you find his cassette player, popping in the first tape you find. The smooth music starts playing and you dance around his kitchen, scooting up behind him and wrapping your arms around him. “Come dance with me,” you murmur and press a kiss into his shoulder blade.

“What has gotten into you?” He asks you teasingly but turns in your arms, wrapping an arm around you. He takes one of your hands in his, holding it out to the side and starting to dance with you.

You hum along to the song and shrug. “You need some love,” you tell him with a soft smile, and it cracks his hardened expression.

You rest your head on his chest and he relaxes, swaying you along. You’re both quiet for a moment. You wonder if you overstepped it with the word love, but he seems to enjoy it. “I like the way your hand fits in mine,” he murmurs to you and presses a kiss to your forehead.

The utter tenderness of the moment is unlike anything you and Javier have ever shared before. Things between you have always been rough and fast, about pleasure and not feelings. This is uncharted territory. You’re holding each other, slow dancing in his kitchen. His arms are warm and strong around you. “I like it too,” you tell him genuinely in a soft voice. The lyrics of the song ring out through the kitchen, and you can’t help but feel your throat go dry at the words.

I must have been through about a million girls

I'd love 'em then I'd leave 'em alone

I didn't care how much they cried, no sir

Their tears left me cold as a stone

But then I fooled around and fell in love

I fooled around and fell in love, yes I did

I fooled around and fell in love

Javier’s breath hitches. You can feel it, his chest fluttering beneath your head. His face is still pressed into your hair. “Can I admit something to you, dulzura?” He mumbles.

Your eyes are watering, and you bury your face in his neck. You pray that it’s the words you want to hear. You squeak out an ‘mhm’ into his skin.

“I think this song was meant for us. Because we’ve been fooling around… but I think I fell in love with you,” he chokes out nervously, stopping his feet and planting the two of you in the middle of the kitchen.

You lift your head and look at him, the tears beginning to fall from your eyes. “Javi,” you coo, your lower lip quivering.

His eyes go wide in fear. This is why he doesn’t show emotions, he tells himself, because it never fucking works, it always ends wrong. He gets his desperate heart broken and that’s why he hides it, locks it and swallows the key. “But if you don’t feel the same, I understand,” he says quietly. His lower lip sticks out slightly.

You laugh through the tears, looking at him with wet eyes. “Javi. I have thought the same about you for so long. I am so in love with you, and I was so worried you wouldn’t feel the same. I can’t believe, I just-“

He cuts you off by cupping your face in his hands and pressing your lips to his, sighing at the feeling. It’s everything you’ve wanted, warm and slow and everything about it is a release of tension. You’ve kissed him before, sure, but it’s been hot and sloppy and hurried, for the sole point of removing each other’s pants. This is because he wants to, because he wants you for you and not the warmth between your legs.

You break away, and Javier looks down at you. “Why are you crying?” He asks with a soft smile.

Looking up at him, there are tears on your face but not an ounce of sadness. “Because I love you so much. And I thought eventually you’d get tired of me and move on to another woman and I’d still have to be friends with you even though I’m so in love with you.”

Javier frowns softly. “Do you really think I would?”

You shrug. “I mean… it’s kind of your track record, Javi,” you say, and he nods.

“I suppose that’s somewhat true,” he admits. “But it’s you. How could I ever change my mind about someone like you?” He asks, and you answer his question by kissing him again, deeply.

It’s pure bliss, his warm hand on your face, the other around your waist and pulling you tighter against him. You break away and your eyes hold a question. “What now?” He asks sarcastically.

You giggle. “The water is boiling,” you tell him and nod your head toward the stove.

“Oh, shit,” he nods and breaks away from you, pouring the pasta in.

You sneak up behind him again and wrap your arms around him, kissing his neck. “Javi?”

“Is this a game show? Am I being interrogated?” He chuckles lovingly.

“Jesus, you just admitted you love me and now you’re being so mean to me,” you tease. “No. Does this mean… are we a thing? Can we be in public now?”

He thinks about it for a second and nods, stirring the water. “I think we should. And I think you should stay the night, so I can finally tell you how much I love you in bed.”

You giggle softly. “I’d like that.”

-

In the morning, you ride to work with Javier. You straighten your blazer as you get out of the car, smiling at him and pulling your purse over your shoulder.

He looks back at you and he can’t help but smile. “Dulzura?”

“Yes, Javi?”

He walks alongside you as you head into the building. “Can you hold my hand?” He asks, grinning ear to ear.

You beam and nod, taking his hand. He opens the door and the two of you walk in together, for the first time, holding hands. You draw stares as you walk to his desk, but you don’t care. Neither does he. Both of you walk with your head held high.

Finally you see Steve and he slowly claps as the two of you approach. “Ah, I see we’re finally public,” he nods and gestures to your hands with a cigarette between two fingers.

You look at Javier in confusion, and he looks back at you with the same eyes. “I’ve known about you two this whole time,” the blonde man laughs, kicking his legs up on the desk. “How does that song go? Fooled around and fell in love,” he sings, and you laugh as you look up at Javi.

“I guess that’s our song now,” he shrugs and looks down at you.

“I guess it is,” you nod, and Javier kisses you softly.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy

[bbangsoonie]

just u

member: sunwoo genre: fluff word count: 1,903 synopsis: sunwoo thinks you’re a flirty drunk but doesn’t notice you only flirt with him.

a/n: oc’s facial flush after drinking alcohol is mentioned once in the fic

Eric: giant sleepover at hyunjae’s tonight

Hyunjae: this is news to me ??

Eric: be prepared to pull an all-nighter because we are doing everything from watching movies to playing games to ✨drinking✨

Sangyeon: his house is also my house ???

Eric: y/n, can you pick up some snacks and drinks with sunwoo?

You: sure

Sunwoo: this is news to me as well ?

Eric: see you all at 6! i know no one has classes today and tomorrow’s saturday so i expect full attendance :)

Juyeon: again, our house is not just solely hyunjae’s ???? younghoon and i live here as well ;-;

Eric’s impromptu gathering was in no way organized but he knew everyone would go along with it. Your group of friends consisted of the most spontaneous people you’ve ever met. They were always down for anything, anytime.

That was how you ended up going grocery shopping with Sunwoo and Haknyeon after you stopped by campus for your professor’s office hours. You ran into Haknyeon there who wanted to tag along to make sure you bought his favorite snacks.

“Any requests for chasers?” you called out to the boys who were an aisle away. You scanned the shelves of sodas in front of you, trying to recall who liked what drinks.

“Chasers are for babies,” Haknyeon scoffed as he made his way over to you.

“I’m baby,” you proudly pointed at yourself.

“Are you referring to the Kirby meme right now?” he blinked. When you nodded, he pretended to gag, making you slap his back.

“Do you guys think this is enough alcohol?” Sunwoo arrived with a cart full of bottles. You almost laughed at the amount of cases. Anyone passing by would think you were shopping wholesale. Which honestly didn’t sound like a bad idea for a group of 12.

“Should be,” Haknyeon shrugged, taking over the cart. “Now time for the good stuff!”

You and Sunwoo watched as he threw in bags of chips and jelly into the cart. You only picked out one or two for yourself since Haknyeon was essentially just getting everything. There was a wide variety for you to choose from anyway. Sunwoo had to physically stop him from adding more stuff, insisting that there’d be dinner as well.

With Hyunjae in charge of ordering food, it was no surprise that you walked into his house smelling like chicken. Eric greeted you from the kitchen and you hollered out a “hey” before joining Changmin and Chanhee in the living room. They were in the middle of an intense round of Super Smash Bros and by the looks of it, Changmin was winning. When the game finally ended, Changmin shrieked with laughter while Chanhee dejectedly collapsed onto the sofa.

Jacob and Kevin walked in not long after, exchanging greetings with everyone else. Sangyeon, Juyeon, and Younghoon emerged from the staircase after finishing their assignments upstairs in their own respective rooms. With the whole group together, Eric gathered you all in front of the TV to have a Super Smash Bros tournament.

“Only people who suck at playing games pick Kirby,” he yelled as you picked up a controller.

“I do admit I suck at games and love Kirby,” you stuck your tongue out as you chose your character, making Chanhee groan.

“All you do is spam down b!” Kevin whined.

“Well no one wants to teach me other moves or how to play other characters,” you shrugged.

“I tried,” Hyunjae sighed. “You’re an impossible student.”

“That’s because everyone kills me off while I try to learn!” you huffed.

To your amusement, you won the game by avoiding everyone in the air while they battled amongst themselves. Then you constantly attacked Younghoon with the same move until he eventually died. He screamed in frustration when your victory flashed across the screen.

Unfortunately for you, everyone decided to target you in the beginning for the next round. After easily finishing you off, they enjoyed what they called a “true fight” that Eric ultimately won.

The long night officially began with the mountain of boxes of chicken in the kitchen. It was easily demolished before Changmin won rock, paper, scissors to put a horror movie on. Before the film was even chosen, Sunwoo was complaining about how he hated jump scares.

“Bro just say you’re afraid and move on,” Eric snickered.

“I’m not scared! I just don’t like being surprised,” Sunwoo insisted.

“Pft, if you’re a true man you can watch it,” Chanhee teased, unaware of his embarrassment to come.

The next couple of hours was chaotic. Chanhee screamed at every noise, making everyone else scream as well. Haknyeon and Sunwoo ended up watching the movie with their ears closed and Jacob gave up entirely by trying to nap instead. You had the unfortunate seat next to Younghoon and became his ragdoll that he clung onto and shook every time he got frightened. You didn’t even get to react to the movie because he kept screaming and grabbing onto you.

Eric and his mischievous instincts spent the whole time trying to startle Juyeon who ended up chasing him around until he promised to stop. Changmin, Sangyeon, Hyunjae, and Kevin were the only ones who truly enjoyed the movie.

When the lights came back on, Chanhee and Sunwoo pretended that it wasn’t scary at all. Hyunjae laughed, reminding them of their reactions to which they feigned oblivion to.

“I need a drink,” you groaned. “Younghoon stressed me out more than the ghost did.”

“Everyone go slow and steady,” Eric warned. “I want to be playing until the sun comes up.”

“My body is too old for this,” Sangyeon mumbled as he began taking the alcohol out of the fridge.

“Hey, Y/n, can you pass me a bottle?” Sunwoo asked. You felt your heart skip a beat when his fingers brushed past yours to take the drink from your hands. The exchange made you blush and you quickly took a shot to mask your tinted cheeks with the flush of the liquor.

Spending the night with your friends meant that you would be spending it trying hard to not fall in love with your budding crush. You tried your best to keep a safe distance from him, relying on Chanhee to be your trusty barrier.

After a series of drinking games (that mostly resulted in your loss), you were beginning to feel the effects. With Chanhee and Haknyeon by your side, you were slightly swinging in your seat. You were all sitting on the floor in the spacious living room to start whatever game Hyunjae had suggested. His words had gone in and out of your ears while you were finishing your last punishment drink.

“So basically one person will ask another person a question and that person will say their answer out loud. The answer has to be the name of someone in this room. Those who are curious about the question will drink to hear it,” Hyunjae explained.

“Can I go first?” Kevin excitedly asked. With the majority agreeing, he happily went up to Jacob to whisper in his ear.

After hearing his question, Jacob thought for a second before saying your name. The boys teasingly “ooh”ed, making you roll your eyes. Sunwoo, Eric, and Changmin were the only ones curious enough to drink for the answer.

“Aw, Y/n, you don’t wanna know why he picked you?” Kevin pouted.

“By the look on your face, I think I get the gist,” you chuckled. “Any questions involving girls only leaves me as an option. And to be brutally honest, I don’t really care what he thinks of me.”

Jacob, faking pain, clutched his heart.

“Ouch,” he joked.

Jacob asked his question to Younghoon, who answered with your name again. This time, you were slightly intrigued.

“Me again for the second time in a row? Now I’m kinda curious,” you pretended to think hard.

Eric drank again and eagerly asked for Jacob’s question. Trying to elicit a response from you, he acted shocked and grabbed Younghoon by the collar. Laughing, you gave in and drank to hear the question.

“He thinks you’re gonna be the first to get cuffed,” Jacob whispered to you.

“Ah, unfortunately no,” you shook your head at Younghoon, sitting back down.

This time, Younghoon asked you a question. He asked who you would date if you had to choose from the friend group.

“Sunwoo,” you said almost immediately. His jaw dropped at how fast you made your decision and he gave you a smug look.

Again, Eric couldn’t hide his curiosity. His reaction made the rest of them interested and everyone ended up drinking to find out what Younghoon had asked you. Hyunjae hooted but the alcohol in your system left you unphased by all their teasing.

After their excitement died down, the game continued until each person had a turn. It ended with Eric drunk crying thanks to Juyeon picking him as his most cherished friend. Seeing him cry made Sunwoo cry as well and Changmin was having a blast laughing at them both.

Not wanting Sunwoo to also turn into a crying drunk, Sangyeon took his cup away from him. He reminded him to keep his pace, prompting him to sulk. As soon as Sangyeon looked away, however, Sunwoo stole it back and downed the rest of his drink.

“Sunwoo, no,” Sangyeon groaned.

“Sunwoo yes!” Sunwoo exclaimed with glee.

The group then split off into subgroups to take a break from drinking. You, Younghoon, Juyeon, Changmin, Sunwoo, and Eric propped a phone up to make TikToks together. Meanwhile, the rest of the boys were just chilling on the couch, laughing as they watched you embarrass yourselves.

Subconsciously, you ended up with your arm wrapped around Sunwoo’s neck for most of the stupid 15 second video. You honestly weren’t sure what you were filming or why you were so close to your crush but you were having too much fun to care.

Chanhee, on the other hand, definitely noticed. He smirked as you rested your head on Sunwoo’s lap and Sunwoo’s face reddened. He nudged Jacob to point it out and made fun of how oblivious you two were.

Before reconvening, you stepped outside to get some fresh air. When you didn’t return after 10 minutes, Sunwoo was sent to retrieve you. You lit up seeing him join you on the veranda and beckoned for him to sit down next to you.

“It’s cold out here,” he said. ���Let’s go back in.”

“So then you should hold my hand to keep me warm,” you giggled, holding out your hand.

“You’re drunk,” he commented as he raised an eyebrow.

“Drunk on you,” you winked, making him shyly look away. He cleared his throat to rid himself of the awkward tension between you.

“You know, you’re a flirty drunk,” he mused.

“Only to you,” you shrugged. “Haven’t you ever heard of drunk actions reflecting sober thoughts?”

Taken aback, he stared at you in silence. You pouted at his lack of response and got up to go back inside. Before you could open the door, he finally spoke up.

“I’ll think about it if your sober actions reflect your drunk thoughts,” he said.

“Really?” you beamed.

“As long as your drunk self is only flirty with me,” he teased.

“Oh please, have you ever seen me like this with the other guys?” you laughed. “I only like you. Just you.”

[t0bi0ss]

Hi may i ask for Leviathan with a Chrysanthemum please! 🖤

leviathan x gn!reader chrysanthemum; a vow or promise

Leviathan and MC had been together for 3 years, when it first started Levi couldn’t believe it, he didn’t think his confession was actually accepted. For the first weeks he was antsy. Someone was going to come around and take them from him, but thankfully it didn’t happen.

Now, 3 years later, Levi is holding a small box with an orange gemstone ring in it. He wanted to promise them forever in his heart, that even when their life is over, he will still keep them in his heart and no one will take his heart from them.

Levi found a good spot, and now he had just had to find a way to sneak MC out without his brothers, especially Mammon, who would just want to third wheel them all the time. He eventually texted them to meet him out in the back of RAD after classes and to make sure no one sees them.

Hours later, MC followed those instructions. Levi was happy they did. “MC, come with me for a bit.” Levi said, gently grabbing their hand he used to feel so flustered taking. MC looked a bit surprised that Levi was taking the lead, but they went along with it.

Levi led them to a beautifully lit up area on the beach, it took him a few days to set this up, knowing how much MC loved lit up areas, he even used illusion magic to make a fake sunset, since there was no sun in the Devildom.

MC looked around in awe, “Is this a surprise date?” MC asked. Levi took a deep breath, MC went to look back at him for an answer to find him on one knee. “We’ve been together as a couple for 3 years, we’ve known each other for 5. During those times I never knew how to truly feel love towards another.”

Levi’s words were soft, but quick. “I’ve also seen that I don’t want to spend my life loving another, I want to spend both of our lives loving you. You took a piece of my heart, and made yourself that part. I promise to love you no matter what happens to us. I promise to always hold you there, and that nobody will ever fill that piece.” Levi held the ring up.

“I promise to make you mine forever, will you allow me to become yours?” Levi asked. MC’s face brightened as he held the ring up, a smile was on their lips. “Yes.” MC said with a smile. They leaned down and kissed him as he slid the ring on their hand. “I promise to give you my everything.”.

prompt list

[loserchildhotpants]

Another destiel prompt from Twitter; say they’re dancing together, still trying to hide their feelings for each other, and because of that, avoiding eye-contract, the best the can, to ensure that the other character doesn’t notice how attracted they are to them (from this prompt list)

“Did you just turn her down?” Dean asks incredulously; Sam is busy sipping champagne next to him, but his eyebrows convey that he would also like clarification on whatever social interaction it is that Cas just had.

They’re all dressed to the nines, stuck at a posh wedding service until they solve this rogue Cupid case; it’s a low-risk case, but a case is a case, and they’ve got it well in hand.

Dean’s not been this dressed up since Bela stuffed him in a monkey suit, and he’d wager the same applies to Sam, but this is certainly the first either of them have ever seen Cas in anything other than his cubicle-life uniform.

Cas’ suit is sharp, pressed, striking, and he’s wearing a cerulean blue tie that has everyone meeting eyes with him coming up short. Predictably, he doesn’t know what to do with the attention, so he mostly apologizes awkwardly for those he seems to startle and thanks the handsy old ladies that liken him to long dead husbands.

With two flutes of bubbly meant for Dean and himself, Cas crossed the great hall, seemed to be stopped by a gorgeous young woman with dark hair, in a low-cut dress and a very promising smirk, but whatever exchange happened left her dejected.

“She asked me to dance,” Castiel tells Dean, passing him his flute, “I regretfully informed her that I don’t know how.”

“You can’t manage a simple little box-step for that hot piece? She was practically drooling, lookin’ at you!”

“We’re on a case,” he says, as though it’s a valid excuse.

“Nuh-unh,” Dean answers, shaking his head and putting his drink down on a nearby table, “That’s - that was a travesty, what I just witnessed. Babes are fuckin’ wasted on you, Cas.”

“She’s a fully grown woman, Dean,” Castiel corrects him, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as he brings his glass to his lips, “Besides, I’d only be wasting her time. I cannot dance, and I’d not be amenable to having relations with her, so it’s better I -”

“Not amenable?” Dean chokes out disbelievingly, “Who the fuck are you holdin’ out for?! Angelina Jolie?”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“It’s a shame you don’t know how to dance, though,” Sam interjects, seeing by the vein throbbing in his forehead that Dean is about to start shouting about beautiful women and Cas’ ineptitudes, “I could teach you, if you want.”

Castiel slants his mouth at Sam, and Sam smiles gently back at him, “I know it doesn’t sound like fun, but, honestly? It’s a good skill to have, and worst case scenario is that you brighten someone’s evening.”

Appealing to his kind nature is the right call; Cas can’t argue that point, so he puts his champagne down and walks up to Sam.

“Very well. Where do we begin?”

“Oh - we’ll probably wanna go somewhere more private, so we can move a little more freely.”

At Sam’s behest, Dean and Cas follow him across the great hall, out onto a spacious balcony, out of the way of most everyone. Double glass doors lead out to it, and flowers line stone railing; no moon is visible from where they are in the mansion, but the sky is bright with stars, and that’s light enough.

While Sam does a fine job of teaching Castiel, and Castiel is a very quick study, they struggle with their height difference while Dean tells them about their height difference, unhelpfully and repeatedly.

Eventually, Sam turns to Dean, and says, “you should step in, man.”

“What? I’m not short,” Dean pouts grumpily.

“No, but you’re at least shorter than me - it’ll make leading a little easier for him.”

Rolling his eyes as though he’s actually put out, Dean peels himself from the French window he’d been leaning on, and takes Sam’s place.

Even and paced, Castiel and Dean take a few turns around the balcony, and Sam is impressed, informing Castiel that it took him a full week of practice to stop tripping over his own feet.

“To be fair, you were still growing into them at the time” Dean jokes.

In a rare moment of familial levity between them, Sam laughs, and Dean smiles at him - all of that makes Cas smile too, and then Sam’s phone rings.

“Oh - it’s Natalie,” Sam lets them know, “She wants eyes on the dance floor for a minute - I’ll take care of it - Cas, you’re doing great, don’t stop practicing!”

To both Dean and Cas’ surprise and humor, Sam appears genuinely bereft to leave the lesson. They both seem inclined to respect Sam’s wishes, though, so they take another turn.

“You gotta stop glancing down,” Dean commands.

Flashing his eyes back up at Dean, Cas mutters, “it’s reflexive. I apologize.”

“Nah, it’s fine, man. You’ve got it,” Dean assures him, “Now that you know how to, you gonna ask that girl to dance?”

“Perhaps,” Cas tries to shrug, determinedly keeping his eyes up, “I feel certain she has moved on in her pursuits, but if I pass her again, I will offer a dance.”

“You know how?”

“Now, yes.”

“No, I mean do you know how to ask a girl to dance?”

“Is there a particular ritual involved?”

Exhaling a laugh, Dean brings them to a stop, and explains, “okay - I’m gonna show you how it’s done, alright? Then I’ll lead.”

“Understood,” Cas tells him with serious conviction, studious and militant.

Dean steps back and away, and they wait for the band’s dreamy rendition of The Way You Look Tonight to end before proceeding.

As The Book of Love begins, the live orchestra swells from inside the hall, Dean bows just a little at the waist, with his right arm crossing his chest, but his head up, and he inquires politely, “Castiel, may I have this dance?”

Tilting his head curiously, Castiel needlessly replies, “yes, Dean, of course.”

Smiling his most winning smile, Dean straightens up, offers his hand, and nods approvingly when Castiel all but glides into step with him.

He keeps the tempo slow, but incorporates making circles, turning them ‘round and ‘round the stone and marble balcony, up and down it’s length; Cas follows him easily, trusting Dean’s direction, and always operating on a similar wavelength - Dean thinks that maybe they dance together well because they fight together well.

“This is nice, Dean,” Castiel remarks softly.

A dusting of rosiness rises up in Dean’s face; he pulls Cas a little closer to better obscure his face from scrutiny, clears his throat and makes some noncommittal noise that could be agreement or indifference.

“You’re the one who taught Sam to waltz,” Castiel surmises conversationally.

“Yeah,” Dean answers.

“How is it that you came to learn it?”

“Eh, you’d be surprised what you learn on the job,” Dean replies easily, pulling away enough to spin Cas, and then move close in again.

“... you just spun me.”

“Yeah, I was there,” Dean jokes, smirking proudly down at Cas; “Don’t worry, when you get to be a seasoned pro like me, you can snazzy up your waltz too. Maybe next you can learn to salsa or tango.”

In a moment of silence between them, Dean follows Cas’ eyes to their clasped hands; Dean’s not sure what Cas is seeing, but whatever it is, it’s making Dean nervous.

“See now what that lovely lady wanted? Feel bad yet?” Dean prompts.

Castiel’s electric eyes refocus on him, startling him with their intensity just as they had the wedding guests that were strangers to Cas, “I do understand now. However, perhaps it’s the soldier in me, but I find I much prefer following than leading.”

“Ah, that’s just ‘cause I’m a great lead,” Dean teases playfully.

“Yes, you are,” Castiel reinforces, eyes flickering between Dean’s, “You do know I would follow your lead anywhere, don’t you?”

“Christ, Cas,” Dean swears, trying to politely move his too-warm face out of view.

“Really, Dean,” Castiel adds, squeezing Dean’s hand where they’re clasped; when that doesn’t work immediately, he takes advantage of a circling turn to near their faces - their noses almost bump, and Dean has no choice but to look into Castiel’s eyes, “I want you to know. You do know, don’t you?”

Swallowing roughly, feeling possibly feverish, Dean down, then away, “... you gotta stop saying shit like that, Cas.”

“Why?” he wonders, “It’s only the truth.”

Clearing his throat again - a nervous tic he didn’t realize he had until right then - he mumbles back, “yeah, well… I talk big, but I’m flyin’ blind, so maybe don’t follow me everywhere.”

“I’m a soldier, Dean. A Commander, actually. When I delivered you to the convent where Sam and Ruby were against the wishes of Heaven, I chose you. I pledged my allegiance to an Earthly King over an absent God, and I knew what I was doing when I did,” their steps slow down as Dean takes that in, “All I knew was that… I had faith in you.”

At that, Dean stops moving altogether, his hand slides down from Cas’ shoulder blade to the cinch of his waist, and he allows their joined hands to wilt a bit lower, but he doesn’t let go.

It seems then that Cas is the one having trouble keeping Dean’s gaze.

He looks to some faraway place over Dean’s shoulder, and rasps, “I still do. So, yes, Dean. I will follow you everywhere you lead, for however long you allow me to. I don’t mind flying blind if I’m flying with you.”

“Cas…”

With difficulty, Castiel looks back into Dean’s eyes, and Dean feels his heart thud in his ears. He wonders to himself if Cas can hear it, or feel it, but all Cas does is stare intently back at him, maybe waiting for Dean to confirm or deny something.

“Guys!”

Dean practically jumps away from Cas, frightened as if he’s been caught doing something untoward, but Cas is unbothered.

“I think I found our guy,” Sam announces, none the wiser, “And I think he brought a friend.”

“Yeah,” Dean affirms gruffly, “Got it.”

Sam turns back around first, through the glass doors, back into the busy hall, and Dean starts after him, a hand already twitching toward his holster, sparing Cas a look from over his shoulder.

The Angel is standing there alone, unmistakably ethereal with a backdrop of twinkling stars and lazy fireflies illuminating him; he’s examining his hand as though Dean may have left a mark or a message on him somehow.

“You comin’, Swayze?”

Cas’ eyes snap to attention again, and his forehead wrinkles, “... I don’t understand that reference,” but he follows after Dean anyway.

He doesn’t seem to notice how Dean clenches and unclenches his corresponding hand, but Dean wouldn’t be able to explain it if he did.

[miracleonice87]

Full of Surprises

a Matthew Tkachuk one-shot

a/n: I rewatched the Tkachuk family Spittin Chiclets interview this morning from the All-Star game in St. Louis and it got me in my Matty feelings. Here’s a proposal story full of fun surprises. Enjoy!

warnings: just swearing — otherwise, total and complete fluff

_____

“Do they know?” I whispered, one arm entwined with one of Matthew’s as both of us stared at the glimmering ring on my left hand.

“Does who know?” Matthew asked in a matching whisper, ducking his head in front of my face. I knew just what he was after — I placed a kiss on the top part of his ear, his favorite, and allowed my tongue to dart out just slightly, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Does your family know?” I clarified as he sat up straight, smirking at me.

We were flying first class, headed to the Tkachuks’ summer home in Cape Cod. I knew that his parents and both of his siblings would be there, but had no concept of how many of them, if any, knew of the engagement that had begun only about eight hours beforehand, on the beach in Bimini.

What I had seen simply as a much-needed getaway from Matthew’s rigid summer workout schedule and from my own bustling days as a graphic designer had quickly turned into the official start of a lifetime together, complete with a Bahamian backdrop.

Matthew shook his head. “No, they have no idea,” he informed me as he pressed a kiss to my temple. I nuzzled my head against his bicep and let my eyes flutter closed, partially in bliss and partially because Matthew and I had gotten maybe two hours of sleep total since the moment he proposed, what with all the celebrating the two of us had done in our hotel room.

I was suddenly so anxious to share our news with our loved ones, starting with Matthew’s family. I smiled at the thought of rehashing the story for any and all who wanted to hear it.

_____

“Matty...” I whispered, tears swiftly filling my eyes and an enormous lump sneaking into my throat.

Matthew had suggested a walk on the beach following our final dinner at the Bimini resort, where we had we spent the evening holding hands over a candlelit table on a private balcony of one of the resort’s fabulous restaurants. After we finished our seafood dinner entrees, he had fed me my half of a delectable piece of chocolate cake as we laughed together behind glasses of red wine.

Little did I know that the sweetest treat was about to come.

Here he was, kneeling in the sand before me, holding a black velvet box, propped open to display the most gorgeous oval-cut diamond ring I’d ever laid eyes on.

“Matty,” I repeated, this time aloud, as I found my voice again. I took a cautious step toward him and wrapped my hands around his outstretched wrist.

“Taylor... baby?” Matthew prompted, his voice strained, shaky. I suddenly realized that the man in front of me had just poured out his soul to me — promising forever, promising a home together, promising a shared legacy of love, joy, and children. And I had yet to give him the answer he was seeking, or any answer at all. His question hung in the ocean air — time stood still.

“Yes! Oh, yes, Matty, yes! Of course!” I choked out, both of us suddenly overcome with nervous and relieved giggles. He sprung to his feet to kiss me, taking my face in his hands and giving me a firm, lingering kiss.

“Can I put the ring on you now?” Matthew asked when he finally pried his lips away from mine. It was then that reality hit and the tears started to flow.

“Yes! Yes, baby.” I held out a shaking left hand to him, which he stroked with his thumb and kissed sweetly before pulling the ring from the box and slipping it onto my finger.

“Oh, my god, it fits perfectly! It’s so beautiful, Matthew!” I exclaimed, gasping at how truly remarkable it looked on my hand. I had imagined what this moment would be like for so many years, ever since I was a young girl with blue glasses in Mrs. Kingsley’s first grade class at McKinley Elementary, watching Matthew play tag from across the playground. The gravity of this moment overwhelmed me and exceeded my every long-held expectation.

The tears continued as I held my hand up to Matthew, showing off my newest accessory. He grinned widely.

“Stay right there, baby,” he instructed, fumbling for his phone in his shorts pocket. “I wanna remember this.” He eventually retrieved the device from his pocket and snapped a quick photo of the momentous occasion before putting his phone away once more. He pulled me in close, our chests flush against each other, hearts racing, and we shared dozens more kisses and laughs there on the shore, both realizing that our forever started tonight.

_____

“Are you happy?” Matthew whispered. My eyes opened and I turned my face up toward his.

“Am I happy?” I asked with an incredulous scoff. “Baby, I’m the happiest,” I reassured. “You make me the happiest.” I sat up further in my plane seat and kissed his cheek, and he smiled down lazily at me. “Good. That’s all that matters to me,” he said.

“Are you happy?” I countered.

He waited a beat, looking deeply into my hazel eyes. “The happiest. The luckiest,” he whispered, stroking my chin with his thumb. I kissed the digit as we stared at each other in content, peaceful silence.

_____

An hour later, our flight landed at Boston Logan Airport. Matthew picked up our suitcases from baggage claim, and we were off to join the Tkachuks at the Cape.

I placed my aviators on my nose as I walked through the automatic doors at the airport’s exit, my newly dubbed fiancé just a step behind me.

“Where’s the car?” I asked over my shoulder, knowing that Matt had arranged for his usual car service to pick us up and haul us to the vacation home.

“Oh, uh... right there.” Matthew threw his head casually in the direction of a black stretch limousine further down the pickup lane. My jaw went slack.

“Matty...” I whispered, peering at him over my sunglasses. “You never get a limo!” He threw his head back in an easy laugh. “Well, I never get engaged, either! Until now,” he remarked. He kissed my cheek and patted my ass lightly with the closed hand that also held his duffle.

“Now, come on, my bride-to-be,” he encouraged. “We’ve got places to be.” I shook my head in disbelief as he sauntered toward the limousine.

_____

Just over an hour later, Matthew and I were pulling into the driveway of the beautiful summer home his family had owned for years. My heart flooded with anticipation. I could not wait for us both to go bounding into the house with our big announcement and be surrounded by loved ones.

“Should I wear my ring? Or should I try and hide it somehow?” I asked quickly, turning toward Matthew as I finished applying some lip gloss, the last step of freshening up my appearance after a long flight.

“You can do whatever you wanna do, babe,” he said, leaning forward and insisting on kissing my freshly-glossed pout. He licked his lips immediately and moaned. “Mmm, peppermint,” he said in a low voice. I chuckled and placed a hand against his cheek, knowing we were sure to celebrate the occasion alone many more times throughout tonight, hopefully after some rest.

“I’m just gonna wear it,” I told him. A grin spread wide across my face as I added, “I’m not gonna be able to keep the news in for long anyway.” Matthew smiled brightly. “Me either, T. Me either,” he told me, kissing my left hand as he had countless times already.

I drew a deep breath and smoothed my fingers over the fabric of my white sundress as the car pulled to a stop in the circular drive in front of the house. It was only when I looked out the window that I noticed all the cars parked alongside the perimeter that I had apparently been too busy to see while primping.

“Matty... what are all of these cars doing here? Who’s here?” I asked softly, frozen, eyes wide. Matthew’s smirk overtook one side of his face.

“Why don’t you go see, babe?” he prompted. I opened my mouth and closed it again, unsure of what to do, or say, or even think.

“Okay,” I finally whispered, taking the hand he had offered me as we moved out of our seats, leaving our belongings behind.

Hand in hand, we walked into the breezeway and through the side door of the house. It was... empty?

I looked up at Matthew, about to ask again why there were so many vehicles in the drive, when a familiar voice called out to us from the back porch.

“Out here!” Chantal...

Matthew was now openly beaming at me, ornery chuckles racking his chest as he gently guided my rigid form to the back sliding glass door. One glance outside stole my breath.

All of his family, all of my family, and dozens of our friends and his teammates stood together in the yard, crowded around tables decked in white, with bundles of silver and white balloons tied together with gold tulle scattered across the lawn. Among the balloon bunches were giant helium-filled diamond rings, and a banner reading “Congratulations, Matthew and Taylor!” was draped across the front of the cabana by the pool.

From where I stood just inside the door, I saw all four of the Tkachuks, my parents, my brother Sean, and my sister Erin huddled together on the deck, the other guests in the yard below starting to cheer as Matthew tenderly pulled me outside. “Come on, babe,” he coaxed with a smile. “There are some people here to see you.”

Tears stung my eyes as I finally stepped outside, clutching Matthew’s hand tightly, fully relying on him to support me and hold me up, both physically and emotionally, just as he always had.

My mom stepped forward from the group first, cupping my face in her hands, tears falling freely onto our cheeks.

“Mommy... you knew!” I said breathlessly. My dad came toward me next, eyes damp, kissing the top of my head. “You all knew!” I exclaimed, loudly enough that many of our other guests several yards away started laughing.

“We knew, sweetheart. Your wonderful fiancé has had all of this planned for quite some time!” my mother explained, pulling away from a tight hug.

“I can’t believe you came all the way from St. Louis!” I told my parents. With a squeeze of my hand, my dad said, “Of course we did. We wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I threw my arms around them once more, then turned to Keith and Chantal, the sight of them causing me to cry harder.

“Oh, honey! Don’t cry! We’re so happy for you guys,” Keith told me, pulling me close for a hug and kiss on the cheek, his chest vibrating with laughter, as Chantal put her arms around both of us. “So happy, Taylor,” she said, her voice tight as tears escaped her.

Matthew came toward us, having already been greeted warmly by his parents and siblings, and rubbed my back soothingly, his siblings in tow. “I would say welcome to the family, but you’ve already been part of the family for years now, so congratulations, T!” Brady mused, ducking past his brother to wrap me in a suffocating hug, lifting me slightly off the ground.

“Don’t break my sister!” Taryn warned, swiping under her damp eyes. The three of us laughed together, Brady slinging an arm around my shoulder while Taryn enveloped me warmly, sobs shuddering our shoulders. “You’re marrying my stupid brother! What the hell,” she laughed. I pulled back and looked at her with a giddy chuckle. “What the hell!” I echoed emphatically.

Matthew laughed along as he pulled away from hugging both my siblings, who then stepped forward to greet me, Erin squealing as the three of us jumped up and down a few times, arms circling one another. Matthew put his arms around my waist after Erin and Sean each hugged me and kissed my face, rushed words of congratulations and disbelief flying from their lips, as if they’d been holding them in for ages. I leaned back against Matthew’s chest for a moment before turning in his grasp.

“They all knew,” I said in awe. “Everybody knew!” Matthew nodded, carefully swiping his thumb under my eyes so as not to completely wreck my makeup. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to tell them yourself, but I just wanted everyone to be here with us to celebrate,” he said.

“Matty, don’t you dare apologize! The last twelve hours have made me so goddamn happy — I can’t even explain it,” I told him, gripping his white button-down at his waistline as I kissed him firmly, his insistence about the two of us wearing similar outfits for the flight home finally making sense.

“Me too, Taylor. Honestly. I just wanna spend the rest of my days making you as happy as I possibly can,” he told me, his blue eyes sparkling from a few happy tears.

I could not believe that my strong, stubborn, sassy fiancé was crying again for the second time in less than one full day. I kissed the tip of his nose and tucked some of his hair behind his ear.

“You are just full of surprises, Matthew Tkachuk,” I told him, slinging my arms around his neck.

He angled his face closer, stopping just short of pressing his lips on mine.

“You sure you’re ready for a lifetime of me, future Mrs. Tkachuk?” he asked. My heart soared. He guided my hips to sway back and forth gently, the sort of natural, comfortable, everyday dance I was fully prepared to enjoy for the rest of time.

“Hell yeah,” I mumbled against his lips, joyful tears springing to my eyes once more, as our mouths finally met.

[esmealux]

Could you do 31 and 23 for the prompts?

I absolutely loved this prompt, thank you! <3

This got a lot longer (1.8K) and a lot angstier than I intended. But fret not, it's hurt/comfort at its core and it's Deckerstar stargazing. And also,

ANTI-SPOILER ALERT: This piece takes place after 5a/during 5b. I have not watched the trailer, nor will I. I therefore have no idea what is going to happen in 5b, or if what this fic suggests is remotely close to what is hinted at in the trailer—and I would like remain oblivious. *Looks at you with puppy eyes* So please don't mention anything from the trailer in the comments? It would mean a lot to me ❤ (And yes, I do realise I could've waited two days before posting this, but I wanted to give you guys a little something while you wait.)

Rated M, just to be safe.

Enjoy, my loves!

31. Lost in the middle of nowhere + 23. ‘Hey, at least the stars are beautiful tonight, right?’

He gets in his car, and he drives.

He has no destination in mind, nowhere but ‘away’. Away from Him. From feelings he can’t contain. From eons of neglect. From pain.

Far away.

He drives till there’s no more gas and ends up stranded where the streets have no name, in the moonlit desert.

The car shudders and comes to a halt. With ridiculously shaky hands, Lucifer brings a cigarette and a lighter to his lips, desperately needing the distraction. He flicks the lighter repeatedly, chaotically, but the fire won’t bite, and suddenly he’s hyperventilating, and both cig and lighter are sent flying through the brisk night air.

He roars into the dark void of the night. The thunderous sound resonating off the distant mountain walls startles him like an unexpected ghost. It sounds like him, but not like him. Not like Lucifer, Devil, fallen angel. It sounds like Samael, falling angel—screaming into the abyss as he plummets towards fire and brimstone, his fate and punishment, dealt by Dad.

Lucifer suddenly can’t get out of the car fast enough. He leans against the trunk, his chest heaving rapidly, his lungs fighting for air. He’d thought he was healing, that he was actually starting to put millennia of trauma behind him. And maybe he was. But then He waltzed down and ripped the wound right open.

Such a pestilent, tyrannous prick.

Lucifer needs a drink.

He finds a bottle of something strong and amber in the glove box and brings it back to the trunk. It’s only half-full, and he’d need at least five more bottles to just get tipsy, but it’ll have to do. He wasn’t looking to get shitfaced, anyway. He just wants to take his mind off things, to breathe. And right now, (now that his chance of having a smoke is lying somewhere in the sand) a couple of sips from a mildly exquisite whiskey and the ensuant burn in his throat are the best way to do that.

She finds him like that—because of course she finds him—sitting on the trunk of his car with the near-empty bottle in his hand and looking absolutely wrecked.

She’s tentative as she approaches him, afraid she’s not welcome, that he really did want to be alone. But as she gets close and he looks up at her, dark eyes glistening in the moonlight, she knows being alone is the last thing he needs.

Without a word, neither from her nor from him, she gets up on back of the car and scoots close to him, still keeping some air between them.

‘I thought you could use a friend,’ she says with a slight smile, exactly like she did all those years ago. Now, however, the last word isn’t an overwhelming, meaningful declaration, but a cosmic understatement, and Lucifer can’t help but snort.

Reaching over, Chloe grabs his hand and interlocks their fingers. ‘Also, I wasn’t gonna let my partner get lost in the middle of nowhere alone.’

‘I’m not lost,’ he objects, but his voice, hollow and lined with despair, betrays him. He may know the way back to LA, but he is definitely lost.

Sensing he doesn't want to talk about it, Chloe gestures towards the bottle still dangling from his fingers and asks for a sip. His lips tug up into the smallest of smirks as he hands over the bottle with a half-hearted ‘Be my guest’.

She leans her head back, eyes turning to the night sky as she takes a swig (just a nip; one of them still has to drive home at some point). It tastes like evening kisses. Occassionally, morning kisses too.

A cool breeze whirls around them, and Chloe snuggles closer to Lucifer. She does have a plaid in the car, and she will get it in a minute, but right now, she settles for stealing some body heat, hoping her seatmate doesn’t mind too much. She hands him back the bottle and snakes a hand under his layers, up his bare back. He sighs shakily, the taut muscles beneath Chloe’s hand loosening up. It tugs at something in her chest—the way he’s calmed by her touch alone.

Chloe looks up again, at the tiny, abundant jewels glimmering against the dark sky. ‘At least the stars are beautiful tonight, right?’

In the middle of downing the last drops of whiskey, Lucifer absent-mindedly replies with a ‘Hm?’

‘Stars,’ Chloe repeats. ‘They’re beautiful.’

Hesitantly, almost reluctantly, Lucifer lets his eyes glide up. He’s quiet as he takes it in, the black canopy adorned with white, pearlescent specks. His gaze is somewhat distant, reminiscent. Wistful.

‘Lucifer,’ she breathes, not as a vocative, but as an eureka. She’s said his name so many times before, screamed it, whispered it, cried it—with passion and pain and everything in between—but now is the first time she says it actually knowing what it means. Or at least she’s pretty sure she does.

‘It was you, wasn’t it?’ she asks him with a whisper, more in awe than accusatory, and the soft, melancholic smile he gives her is answer enough. ‘You let there be light.’ It’s not a question this time, just an overwhelming realisation spoken out loud.

‘Well, technically,’ Lucifer corrects, glancing over at her, ‘it was Dad who created Light.’ His gaze turns upwards again, eyes suddenly twinkling with pride. ‘The almighty wanker was just too lazy to hang it up there himself.’

Stunned, Chloe stares at the sky with new reverence. It’s breath-taking, both the sight itself—diamonds and sparkling dust sprinkled across a sea of nothing—and the fact that Lucifer made that. He literally hung the stars in the sky.

The fact that he hasn’t mentioned this before, that he hasn’t boasted about it, hasn’t proudly told everyone he’s the artist behind the original Starry Night also says something.

Peering up at him from where her head is now resting against his shoulder, Chloe sees a look on his face she can only describe as ‘homesick’.

‘They remind you of your dad’s love for you,’ she realises, voice quiet.

Lucifer scoffs, but there’s no humour in it. Just pain. ‘What love?’

Chloe doesn’t blame him for doubting. With all the light God (apparently) gave Lucifer, He gave him a thousand times more darkness. (And she is going to talk to Him about that. Later. When she’s hugged the living shit out of His son). But Chloe can tell He, despite everything, does love Lucifer—and that Lucifer is using this resentment towards Him to avoid facing the fact that he, still, loathes himself just as much. If not more.

The thought makes Chloe sick, and she suddenly feels the need to tell him, ‘You’re worthy, you know?’

He looks down at her. A wet streak on his cheek catches the silvery light of the moon. ‘I do?’ The insecurity in his voice is a sharp jab in her chest. But again, she doesn’t blame him.

‘You are,’ she states again for emphasis, holding his gaze. ‘You’re worthy of love, and light.’ With her free hand, the one that isn’t stroking the small of his back beneath his shirt and jacket, she cups his face and swipes her thumb across his stubble. ‘You deserve it. You deserve happiness, more than any other person in this world.’

He doesn’t say anything in return, but he doesn’t have to. The smile he gives her in return, warming and breaking her heart at the same time, speaks for itself. Just to get her point across, she leans up and kisses him. It’s teary and tender, and it’s a promise. To always love him—both the light and the dark, and all the colours in between.

They lean their foreheads against each other’s when they break apart, eyes still closed.

After a long, needed moment, Chloe lets her hand drop from Lucifer’s cheek to his thigh.

‘So,’ she breathes, the pall from their prior conversation vanishing into the night with her light, playful tone, ‘constellations?’

He chuckles beside her, the sound low and warm in her ear. ‘Not what you humans make them out to be.’

She fights the urge to roll her eyes at his ‘you humans’, and asks, intrigued, ‘No Big Dipper?’

‘No.’ He clicks his tongue. 'But there is a Big Pecker somewhere.’

She glares at him. ‘You drew a dick in the sky?’

His lips spread into a proud grin. ‘And a pair of boobs, if you have a little imagination.’ He points to a distant spot above them. ‘Those seven points there, the brighter ones—they form a symbol in my mother tongue. A message for my dear twin.’

‘Oh?’ Lucifer rarely ever speaks of, much less in the celestial language. It’s another part of his past Chloe hasn’t learned much about. But hopefully, over time, she will.

‘Yes, it means… how would you say?’ He thinks for a second—or pretends to—and eventually concludes, ‘Cunt, I believe, would be the appropriate translation.’

This time, Chloe doesn’t resist rolling her eyes—because nothing about that is ‘appropriate’. Maybe except for the fact that it was directed at Michael.

‘I know,’ he says, like he’s reading her mind. But he really isn’t, because he follows up with, ‘An insult to the temple of pleasure I value more than any other organ.’

Having met the guy, Chloe doesn’t disagree; Michael definitely lives up to more vile name-calling than ‘cunt’. (Also, she's pretty sure Lucifer is wrong about it being his favourite body part. She’s pretty sure the organ he values more than any other is his own Big Pecker, because she’s seen the way he looks at himself in the shower, and all the other places she finds him naked; the vain idiot is practically obsessed with his own meat. Not that she blames him.) But before she has the chance to tell him that, he says-

‘You have to forgive me. I was only a couple of thousand years old.’ There’s a glint in his eye, and Chloe can’t help but laugh, because it’s true what Linda said; he really is the oldest, most immature person in the world.

Chloe tells him as much.

He simply smirks in return. ‘I may be old, Detective, but I’m more vigorous in bed than any mortal man, old or young, and you know it.’

It only proves her point, about him being immature, and obsessed with his penis. But frankly, Chloe does know it, and for once, she feels like stroking his ego (among other things). So she grabs him by the hand, leads him into the car, onto plush leather, onto her, and as the stars twinkle and gleam above them, they put that vigour of his to good use.

[127-mile]

Une seconde avant noël.

Pairing: Lee Ten x reader.

Genre: Christmas, exes, fake dating, feelings realization / Fluff, angst.

Warnings: Vulgar language, alcohol consumption.

Word count: +5.2k.

Prompt chosen: It’s Christmas Eve. It’s the one night of the year when we all act a little nicer, we smile a little easier, we cheer a little more. For a couple of hours out of the whole year, we are the people that we always hoped we would be.

Plot: What an idea to break up before Christmas, Ten thinks, as he announces to his mother that yes, you will indeed be present at the annual party organized for Christmas Eve.

A/N: This is part of the Walking in a winter wonderland collab hosted by @suh-insane​ and @neocitybynight​.

"Do you always have to be in my way? Fuck Ten, be careful where you are going!" you growl, looking at the content of the box strewn on the floor. You have a ton of work to finish if you want to have a meal break, and Ten really is not making it easy for you. "You piss me off." you mumble as you kneel to retrieve the glitter bloxes, and sigh in exasperation when you notice of them opened. You'll find glitter everywhere for a month at this point. Who is stupid enough to think of glitter as a passable Christmas present for a child, you think, rolling your eyes.

"Can't you be polite? We have customers, damn it!" you turn your face to Ten who looks at you as if you caused the accident yourself when this idiot was hunched over his phone at the time of the impact. "And you, can't you at least pretend to work instead of checking how many sluts you'll be able to bring in your dingy apartment this weekend?" you stuff the glitters into the box while huffing, you can't take any more. If you didn't need the money so much, you would quit your job this instant.

Ten's chuckle is enough to make you angry once again. You can not stand hearing him and his stupid laugh anymore, and if you looked up at him, you would see his annoying little smile. "Are you jealous?" he asks, and you bite your lip so as not to laugh. They are causing enough commotion in the middle of the store, you do not need your boss to come and see what's going on. "Jealous? But why would I be jealous, Ten. You really need to take the time to think and calm your fucking ego, it's not good for you."

"I'm not saying you are jealous, I'm just saying that worrying about who I can bring back to my apartment is suspicious." you look at him, shaking your head. God damn his face would be beautiful with your fist pressed against. "You're so full of yourself Ten. I don't care what garbage you take home, all I want is for you to get down to work, before if you haven't noticed yet, it is almost Christmas and the store is full of customers."

"Garbage?" he asks, tilting his head, and you turn on your heels. "As far as I know, I took you back to my apartment at one point." it is too much for you. You leave the arts and crafts section, and you put the box at the feet of one of your colleagues who looks at you, incredulous. "I'm going to be sick, can you take care of it." you are not sick, but if you stay with Ten for a minute longer, you will eventually be.

You ignore a client who ask you about an interactive teddy bear they sac on TV, and you know it's wrong, but you have no choice, or you'll end up spitting your venom on a poor innocent person who wants nothing more than to please someone for Christmas. You push the door to the break room, and you walk to the bathroom. As you thought, it's empty. The boss doesn't allow anyone to go while they are working.

You push the door open, and you sit on the closed toilet. It is not the cleanest place, but it is the only place where you'll have time to think, and where you can calm your sudden urges for murder. It's sad to see where the relationship between you and Ten is. It was not always like that. There was a time when you weren't insulting each other at any opportunity, when you could smile at each other without wanting to throw up. There was a time when you were in love, and convinced that you would spend the rest of your life together.

You tense when you hear the door open, and you remain silent, pressing your hand against your mouth, as if it would help you go unnoticed when your feet are visible under the door gap. "Y/n?" of course, there is only Ten to follow you to the toilet. He approaches the door and you see by his movements that he sits on the floor. You grimace, because you do not know how long the cleaning person has stopped washing the once white tiles.

"Ten, it's disgusting on the floor." you mumble, and hear him sigh. "What do you want? What's important enough for you to follow me into the bathroom?" you ask in a voice barely above a whisper. "I am sorry." he says, and you shake your head. This is not the first time you've found yourselves apologizing to each other after a little quarrel in the middle of the store, and you know it won't be the last time either.

"We only have one week left before Christmas, after that we won't have to see each other as much anymore. Can't we make an effort to ignore each other?" your voice is so weak, Ten feels his heart skip a beat. He never wanted the situation between the two of you to become so chaotic. He wanted nothing more than to be happy. Be happy with you.

"But- but I don't want to ignore you." Ten answers, and you get up to open the door. The boy almost rocks forward, since his forehead was pressed against the door. "Ten, you need to learn about the existence of germs on the bathrooms." he smiles weakly, and he stands up too, dusting his uniform pants. "What do you propose?" you ask, cocking your head.

"We're burying the hatchet." Ten crosses his arms against his chest, and you sigh. "Ten, we've already tried dozens of times since we broke up, and it always comes back to the same scenario. It's useless."

For the first time since they broke up, you do not pull back when he puts his hand on your arm. "But we can try. For real this time. We were friends before we were a couple, maybe we can be again?" there is so much hope in his voice, and in his eyes, that you can't afford to deny him anything. "We can try." you finally say, and Ten's smile is so bright that you could almost be blinded.

"Perfect! So will you come with me to the party my parents are hosting for Christmas Eve?" he asks, and this time, you pull back at his touch, and you clench your fist to punch him in the shoulder. He whines loudly and you refrain from not doing it again. "You asshole! Why are you doing this to me?" Every year, the Lee family host a Christmas Eve party. It's always lavish, with beautiful decorations, and exquisite food. You loved spending Christmas Eve with Ten's family. So reminding you that you will not be attending this year hurts.

"But I'm serious!" he explains by rubbing his shoulder. He takes a step back to make sure he doesn't get another hit, he knows you all too well. "You are invited." you frown as you dig your hands into the pockets of your pants. "We are not together anymore, why would you parents invite me?" for a moment Ten looks embarrassed, and he is unable to meet your gaze. "Ten, what are you hiding from me?" he hops from one foot to the other, and you are ready to ask him if he feels like pissing when he opens his mouth to explain. "It may well be that I didn't tell my parents we broke up."

"But why Ten? You told me you did! It's been months now." the fact that he is embarrassed is at least a good thing, he is still human. "I was going to do it, I promise, but my mom started talking about the party, and hse said she missed you and really can't wait to see you. You know how much my mom adores you, I didn't want to break her heart!"

It's really mean to include his mother and her love for you in the story, because he knows you considered Ten's mother like your own when you first met her. "I'll tell them everything after the holidays, I promise! If you come, I'll never ask you anything again, and I'll disappear if that's what you want."

"I hate you, Ten." even though it's a phrase he doesn't like to hear, he knows you do not mean it. At least that's what he hopes, because he doesn't know what he would do if you really hated him. "So?" he asks in a whisper, and you roll your eyes. "I'll come, but this will be the last time I do anything for you. Anything, do you hear me?"

He nods, and he smiles once more. "Good, very good! We'll take my car, and I won't carge you for your share of the gasoline, don't worry." he is so excited that you start to feel the excitement too, but you do not show him, no. You walk to the bathroom door, it's time for you to get back to work, but before you leave, you turn to Ten. "I need my day tomorrow, so I'll let you tell the boss you're going to use your day off to replace me."

The following week is the calmest week you've had since breaking up with Ten. You meet in the store, but you ignore each other. Well, you ignore him every time he tries to talk to you, it's much better than insulting him until he resigns himself to being silent. And when Christmas Eve comes, you wonder if you really made the right decision by agreeing to follow Ten. And pretend to be his partner again.

You wait outside your apartment for Ten to arrive, your hands in the pockets of your coat, and your face niched in your scarf. The cold wind is whipping your face, and the snow have started to fall on the city which is festive with the fairy lights, the decorated trees in the streets, and the laughter of the locas who are eager to come home and celebrate Christmas Eve.

Thanks to Ten, you were able to get out of work early, and also, you won't be spending Christmas on your own. That's the only positive things you can find in this strange situation. Even your friends have told you to text Ten and cancel, they all think it's bad, and they think it will do them more harm than good. And you understand them, you too wonder what will happen after the party is over, once you have to go back to your routine without each other.

But that's life, and sometimes you have to make sacrifices to avoid hurting the people you love, you think with a sigh.

When you feel ready to freeze in place, Ten's car pulls up in front of you, and you huff. Finally. He gets out of the car, and he opens the door. Seeing him do that make you roll your eyes. "I can open a door." you mumble, and when he lifts his big shining eyes, you sigh. "You'll catch a cold, Tennie." he shakes his head, and you get in the car.

You feel a weight being lifted from your shoulder as your warm up, and Ten watches you, smiling when you take off your gloves. "You want a photo, it'll last longer." you say, and he shrugs. "I'm just glad to see you." yeah, you don't believe that lie, he must already be playing his part not to be caught off guard in front of his parents.

Ten starts the engine, and begins to drive out of town. "I had my mom on the phone earlier, she is excited to see you, and so is my dad." you hum. "Me too, I really missed them." Ten's lower lip juts out, and you avoid looking at him, he knows you are weak when he acts like that. But not tonight, no. "Ten, don't forget your promise. We can't do this at every family reunion, you know that, it'll only hurt more every time.

"Yes I know, and I will, I promised, didn't I?" you nod, and you turn your head towards the window. You watch the landscape gently getting cover by a thin layer of white snow as you approach the countryside. You love the city, yes, but you would love to be able to land in the countryside, and have a simple life, far from the hustle and bustle of the city.

The rest of the road is silent, and you slowly fall asleep, you head against the window, rocked by the vibrations. It's Ten's hand on your shoulder that wakes you up. He is out in the car, and you notice that it is now dark outside. You stand up, yawning. "We're here." he says. The Lee family house is impressive, and decorated with lights. It is really beautiful, and you expected no less from Mrs. Lee whose favorite holiday is Christmas.

You get your bag and get out of the car. Your legs are numb, so you take Ten's arm to avoid tripping in the snow. Yeah, that would be fun, but you do not really want to soil your clothes now. Maybe later. You stop in front of the door, and Ten turns to you. "Ready?" and when you nod, he knocks on the door.

It only takes a minute for the door to open on Ten's mother. She looks at the both of you, and she smiles with a sweetness all her own. "My loves, how happy I am to see you! Come in or you'll get sick." Ten lets you pass, and when you enter, you are immediately engulfed in a hug. You melt, you can't help it. You feel like coming home, and god damn your heart hurt at the realization.

Ten clears his throat, and you refrain from laughing. When Mrs. Lee lets you take a step back, you both turn to the boy who frowns. "Impatient." his mother says before taking him in her arms in turn, for a shorter moment. You are pretty proud of it. "Come into the living room, the guests have already arrived."

You follow her into the living room, and you greet the guests. You and Ten have been together for a few years, so you know all of the family and friends who are used to being invited every year. "Ah, the lovers have arrived!" his father says, and you nod. You put the gifts you brought in your bag at the foot of the three, and you smile. You had a great time looking for the perfect gifts.

Immediately, you are taken aside by Ten's sister who is surprised to see you here. She is the only one in this room, besides Ten himself, who knows about your situation. Because yes, maybe you were drunk one night and called her, crying to complain about the ordeal your life had been like since breaking up with Ten. Tern is younger, but she is quite scary, so you hardly swallow your saliva when she comes face to face with you.

"What is this mess?" she asks in a whisper. "Did you get back together?" you worry your lower lip, giving Ten a furtive glance, he seems to be in the middle of a heated discussion with his father, and you shake your head. "Ten didn't say anything to your parents, so he asked me to come over, so as not to break the holiday spirit." you mumble, and if the Lee family was not there, you know Tern would go and slap her brother right away.

"You both are idiots." Tern says, and you shoulders slup. "Are you masochistic or what? Do you like hurting yourself?" you do not know what to say, you are just here to help Ten. "I know it's not the right thing to do, but it's Christmas Eve, so I'm going to pretend it's okay, smile, laugh, and be happy beofre I go back everyday life without Ten."

Tern sighs, tilting her head. "Is that what you want?" she asks before resuming. "Go back to a life without Ten? Because a person who has no more feelings would never agree to help their ex." That's the question, you don't know how you feel, your head is empty and your heart is a mess, it's been like this since Ten left. So you shrug. "I don't know Tern."

As you are about to speak, you are called out by Ten's mother who beckons you to approach. "Come help me in the kitchen for a minute, please." you nod, apologizing to Tern before joining her. There's nothing more to do, so you frown. "It's the only way to have some time with you without Ten jumping on you." she explains, and you can't help but laugh. "He learned to behave in public, don't worry."

"Is everything okay?" Ten's mother asks, and you nod. She looks worried, and for a second, you feel ready to tell her everything, but you can't, you promised Ten, and as he said himself, he doesn't want to hurt her, and neither do you. Not tonight anyway. "I'm asking because it's been a while since we've last seen you."

You nod. It's true that before, you used to visit the Lee family a couple of times each month, even though Ten was busy at work, and even more during the month of December, used to help Mrs. Lee prepare Christmas Eve. But being convinced that Ten had warned his parents, you did not do it anymore, you found it inappropriate.

"I was overwhelmed with work, I'm so sorry. But it's true that I should at least give given you a call." you explain in a weak voice, and the older woman shakes her head, placing a hand on your shoulder. "You have a job, you have a life, you have you own family, so you don't have to apologize for not having time. I get it, I was your age once."

You blame yourself more and more for the pain you are going to cause her, but you bite the inside of your cheek. Sometimes things don't go as planned, and you have to adapt. "And with Ten, is everything going well?" the question you would have liked to avoid. But you smile. "Everything is not perfect every day, but we both make an effort, because our relationship deserves it." Ten's mother smiles, she is proud to hear that her son has matured enough to do whatever it takes to keep his relationship healthy, and going.

"Don't hesitate to tell me if he crosses the line, then I'll give him a piece of my mind, believe me!" you laugh softly. You know that Mrs. Lee is, and will always be, there to help you. At least for now. But you need to stop thinking about the future, and focus on the present. You need to enjoy this last night you have with your surrogate family. "Thank you Ms. Lee, I appreciate that."

When she offers to return to the living room so as not to worry the guests, you follow her. Ten is still talking with his father, but the conversation seems to have calmed down, and you are happy. You know that the two men are used to arguing, and you have witnessed some rather disturbing scenes already, and you do not want that to happen again. You do not want to have to pick up Ten again.

"Everything okay?" you jump when Ten comes up behind you, and you turn to him. His cheeks are flushed, and you pursue your lips to stifle a laugh. "Don't tell me, your grandmother's friend?" he shakes his head with a poud, he doesn't like it when old little ladies pull his cheeks, it hurts. "My poor child. Maybe she'll stop someday."

"When she is in a coffin, yeah." Ten mumbles, and you put your hand over your mouth. "Don't say such things, Tennie!" you giggle and he smiles. He likes to be the reason for your laughter. "But to answer your question, yes, everything is fine. Your sister was a little surprised to see me here, but outside of that, like clockwork!"

Ten nods, and takes a sip from his glass of wine. He looks around him. The three, the decorations, his family, their friends, and you, and for a minute, he completely forgets that things are not the same as last year. Nothing is as before, everything is only an act. And when he turns his head towards you, and sees the lights of the tree reflected in your eyes, he thinks to himself that maybe, it was not a good idea.

See, you and Ten had a long relationship. You are his first love, and he always hoped that you would be his last. And to be honest, he still hopes so. But he knows that despite everything that has happened, all the insults you have exchanged, it would take very little time for him to fall in love again. No, he wouldn't need time at all, he is still in love, he always will be, he knows it deep down inside of him. And seeing you here, acting as your girlfriend, knowing that you'll probably never will be again, hurts like a bitch.

You think the same, and it hurts you too, but you both have too much pride to say it.

You then meet around the table, enjoying a fabulous feast prepared by Mrs. Lee. That's what you'll missed the most, the food. Ten is next to you, and every now and then, he leans in to whisper a joke in your ear. It's a tradition that you have, you try to make the other laugh, and get all eyes on yourself, knowing that it will be too inappropriate for you to say the joke out loud. At least some things are not changing.

You honestly can't remember the last time you had such a good time with Ten without it ending in an argument. What you do not notice is Tern's gaze. She watches you both, frowning. She can read between the lines. She knows that you still love each other, but are also too stupid to admit it.

The meal stretches over two hours, and when you finish, a full stomach, and ready to explode, it's time to open the presents. You get up from your chair and collect the packages. You give one to Ten's parents, one to Tern, and the last one, you hand it to Ten who titls his head. "You didn't have to, you know." he says in a whisper, and you shrug. "I know, but I got it before.. well before you know what."

Ten also gives you a present, and you arch an eyebrow at him. "I didn't want to see you pout thinking I forgot about you." he mumbles, and you smile. You open the present, and sigh. Inside is your favorite book, but not just any, the very first edition. It's old, rare, and probably extremely expensive. "Ten.." you whisper, and the boy smiles. "I know you've always dreamed of it."

What makes your heart beat a little faster is not that he gave you the book, but that he remembered it, because you only mentioned it once almost two years ago. Perhaps accusing him of never paying attention was wrong, now that you think about it. "Thank you so much Ten, you have no idea how happy this makes me." you lean over, and place a tender kiss on his cheek. And when you take a step back, you notice the rosy tint on Ten's cheeks. Cute.

"Come on, open yours!" Ten nods a minute later, the poor man needs to recover from the sudden physical contact first, then, he unwraps his present. If there is ont think Ten loves more than himself, and you, it's his watch. His father gave him his own watch for his 18th birthday, and it quickly became his most precious item, and unfortunately, he broke it a few months ago.

He thought it was irreparable, but nothing is ever irreparable, so you grabbed it one morning, and sent it over to have it fixed. It's not much for you, but when you see the tears in Ten's eyes, you knows that it was a perfect idea. "I thought I lost it." he says under his breath, and you shake your head. "I took it from you, wanted to surprise you, but I didn't expect it to take that long. I'm really sorry if I worried you."

Ten shakes his head, and he wipes his tears with his free hand, before a smile spreads over his beautiful face. "This deserves a kiss!" Ten's mother exclaims, and you hear Tern sigh loudly. "Mom, don't embarrass them." you are grateful for Ten, but you have to do it. So once more you take a step forward, and you cup Ten's face, and your face meet in the middle for a long, and soft kiss. Yeah, maybe you wanted to kiss him too. And for a while now.

"How beautiful young love is!" one person comments, and you smile weakly. Ten does the same, and you help him put the watch around his wrist. "Thank you, thank you. I don't think I will ever have enough words to thank you. It's the most perfect present." he says in a long sigh, and you smile. "I knew how much you cared about this watch." you run your fingers through Ten's hair to pull it out of his face, and realize how easy it is for you to fall back on your old habits.

The rest of the evening goes well.

You sit on the couch with Ten, and you listen to the stories the family members are telling, laughing every now and then, but you can't really focus with the heat radiating from Ten's body. Proximity in your hands. It would be so easy to take his hand, or rest your head on his shoulder.

Why the hell not, you think, it's Christmas, and you are supposed to be acting, so might as well make the most of it. You rest your head on Ten's shoulder, and if he is suprised, he doesn't show it, he lands a kiss on the top of your head. You feel his shoulders relax and you smile. You always have the same calming effect on each other. True love, but you refuse to think about it.

It's getting late, and you can't seem to suppress a long yawn, Ten notices. He stands up and you pout at the sudden lack of contact, and you sit up. "We're going to go mom, we still have a way to go, and it's snowing again." she nods, albeit a little sad, but she knows it would be too dangerous for Ten to drive if he is tired, of if there is too much snow.

"Thank you for coming, my loves, it made me very happy." once again, you find yourself engulfed in a long her that you give back with pleasure. And you thank her and Ten's father again and again for the invitation. And in a few minutes, you find yourself in front of the car. Tern follows closely behind you, and before Ten gets into the car, she puts her hand on his shoulder to take him aside. "Take care of yourself, and your heart, okay?"

Ten nods. "Don't worry, I know what to do to keep my heart safe." he looks at you to see if you heard him, but no, you are half asleep on the seat, and you would not even hear if a bomb were to explode near your ear. "Really, don't worry." he places a kiss on his sister's cheek, and he gets into the car after making sur the passenger door is closed. You collapsed into the seat, your new book clutched to your chest.

"It was a very good evening. You family is amazing." you say, and Ten can only agree. "You are right. Thank you for coming." you smile and lean your head against the window. You do not want to fall asleep, you want to enjoy your last moments with Ten, but unfortunately, fatigue quickly gets the better of you, and when you open your eyes, the car is already parked in front of your apartment complex.

"Thanks for taking me home, and thanks again for the book." you lean in to kiss the corner of his lips, but before Ten can say anything, you get out of the car. He opens the window, and you turns to him. "Have a good night, Ten." his fingers tighten around the steering wheel, and you see that he wants to say something, but he holds back. "Good night Y/n, and merry Christmas."

You walk towards the door that leads to the lobby, but the sound of the door opening and closing catches your attention. You turn around and find Ten in front of the car. You embrace your body with your arms to fight against the cold. "What are you doing, Ten?" you ask, and the boy finally approaches. He's so close you can feel his breath against your lips. "Would you like to go have coffee tomorrow? And maybe we can go check out the Christmas lights."

You smile, and you nod. "I would love this, Ten." his smile is as bright as the moon, and you chuckle softly when he places a small kiss on your lips before heading back to his car, not without a victory move that almost makes him trip in the snow.

It’s Christmas Eve. It’s the one night of the year when we all act a little nicer, we smile a little easier, we cheer a little more. For a couple of hours out of the whole year, we are the people that we always hoped we would be.

And maybe sometimes, you can decide to stay that kind of people.

[weasleydream]

Sirius, little Sofia and the Christmas tree

I feel like this one is so precious 🥺 I’ll never say it enough but soft Sirius is bae really 

This one is for @wonderful-writer​‘s ficmas challenge! Thank you for organizing such a fun event, love! My prompt was “Do you want to put the star on the top of the tree?” and honestly I fell in love with it!

As usual feel free to like, comment, reblog and enjoy!

Masterlist 

St-Mungo’s was a place with a special meaning. Of course, as a hospital, it obviously had an immense importance but it was one of the few places that was such a big part of James’, Remus’ Peter’s, Sirius’ and my heart. For James, it was because he had ended up there after particularly severe wounds from Quidditch when he wasn’t at Hogwarts. For Remus, it was because of this amazing nurse that had taken care of him after his first full-moon as a werewolf. For Peter, it was because he had always been welcomed with kindness when his father had stayed there for a while after having been hit by a strange curse. I didn’t know why Sirius seemed to be the most attached to this place. As far as I knew, he had never been here after having been injured and I doubted he had ever visited a family member here. I also knew for a fact that his parents hadn’t worked here for years before leaving the country for an abroad mission like mine. But despite this apparent lack of link between him and St-Mungo’s, I eventually understood how he felt bound to the place. So bound that, a few days before Christmas 1977, he announced to us he would spend Christmas eve at St-Mungo’s. 

“I thought we were staying at Hogwarts all together.” I frowned. “Why this sudden change of mind?”

I glanced at Remus, who shrugged, and at James and Peter who were eyeing Sirius suspiciously. 

“Is that where you spent Christmas last year?” asked James, who ignored our interrogative looks. 

Sirius looked away and I could have sworn he was blushing. 

“It’s a promise I’ve made…” he mumbled. 

He seemed afraid that we would make fun of him or something, but nothing like this happened. Everything in him, from his sparkling eyes to his straight posture, everything was showing how important this promise was for him and never would we have laughed for such an essential mission. 

James fell back on the couch of the common room, the one that was just in front of the fire, and put his arm behind his head before releasing the golden snitch he always had with him. 

“We’ll have to ask Minnie to let us five leave school for Christmas eve, then. Do you think Lily will want to come with us?”

Remus threw a sarcastic remark that only him had the secret and I caught Sirius’ smile which, in my opinion, had nothing to do with James’ dark red cheeks. 

_ _ _ 

Strangely, Professor McGonagall hadn’t even tried to refuse to let us leave for Christmas eve. In fact, it was quite the contrary: she had accepted almost immediately after having addressed a knowing smile at Sirius. 

“I wonder why she accepted that quickly…” said Peter as soon as her office door was closed behind us. 

Remus elbowed him, hissing that she could still hear us, and only spoke when two corridors separated us from Professor McGonagall. 

“I’m pretty sure it’s because of Pads.”

“Obviously. It has to be because Sirius already went there last year and she had to know it.” answered Peter matter-of-factly before waving his wand in front of my eyes. “Y/N! You still with us?”

I removed his hand, my eyes still fixed on Sirius’ back. He was a few meters in front of us, walking next to James who nudged him playfully. Since he knew we would accompany him, Sirius seemed less exuberant, less loud, and I was pretty sure it was because he was scared. Whatever had motivated him to cancel our Christmas together at Hogwarts wasn’t something he had ever told us about, that was for sure. And it probably wasn’t something usual for him, or else he would have kept it a secret. 

“Let her stare,” smirked Remus. “You won’t be able to stop her in anyways, Wormtail, you should know it.” 

Peter laughed and shook his head. Remus imitated him and nudged me. I groaned, used to this almost constant teasing that had begun at the beginning of our previous year. 

“Shut up, Moony.”

_ _ _ 

The street was crowded, way more than usual. The Muggles seemed even more pressed that they were at any other moment of the year. They had their arms full of bags probably containing various presents and any kind of food. A woman who was holding a plastic box against her ear pushed me hurriedly and continued her rushed race to whatever was stressing her. The movement caused me to trip and I would have ended the nose directly against the hard ground if solid arms hadn’t wrapped around me. 

“Maybe one day you’ll learn how to walk properly!” Sirius winked.

I was sure my cheeks were red and that they didn’t stop darkening even when his hands left my waist, leaving my skin almost burning through the wool of my Christmas sweater.While Sirius left and disappeared through St-Mungo’s entrance following James and Peter, Remus patted my shoulder with a broad smile. 

“Admit it, you tripped on purpose.”

“To make a fool of myself? No way.” I groaned.

“Come on, you may be a fool but Sirius thinks you’re a cute one.”

Remus threw me a mysterious glance and disappeared too, leaving me alone in the street with my thoughts and the Muggles. Eventually deciding to join the boys, I crossed the magical barrier with a sigh. 

It had been a while since the last time I had stepped in this hospital during Christmas. It had always brought me betterness and guilt to be there, perfectly well and with my family whereas a lot of patients here were alone. The worst to me was the bunch of kids that practically lived here, kids whose parents weren't with them with or without a good reason, if there was really a good reason for this. 

Sirius led us through the hall and we took the stairs to the cafeteria’s level. In my memories, this lever was the most decorated during the end of the year but it was nothing compared to how decorated it was now. The walls were covered in drawings representing Christmas trees, Santa Claus, snowmen and a lot of other coloured items representing Christmas, all of these drawings coming from children. Each window was adorned with bright red ribbons, Tinsels and wreaths were disposed wherever they fitted. In the middle of the cafeteria, from where all the tables had been removed, a big tree that hadn’t been decorated yet had the pride of the place, and around this tree were gathered nine kids. They were all wearing Christmas-related clothes, and a little girl even had a headband with reindeer antlers. Two little boys and the girl with the headband rushed toward Sirius, their little arms wide open and their eyes sparkling. 

“Sirius!”

“We were waiting for you!”

Sirius hugged the two boys and then wrapped his arms around the little girl. 

“How are you little princess?”

“I was scared you wouldn’t come…” she answered shyly. 

Sirius smiled softly and ruffled her hair, causing the headband to almost fall. She replaced it, giggling, and extended an arm to mess up Sirius’ hair too. 

“You’ll decorate the tree with us?”

“Of course! Let’s make the most beautiful Christmas tree ever. After you!”

Sirius glanced at James, Remus, Peter and I. His eyes were as bright as the kids’ and my heart swelled at the sight. Then he rolled up his sleeves and headed to a group of three kids to help them open a box of decorations. With barely a glance accorded to each other, the boys and I joined the little groups of kids to help them. 

Christmas carols were resonating, both from little bells floating everywhere in the room and from the kids, my friends and I. Slowly but surely, the tree was becoming the prettiest Christmas tree ever. Thanks to these adorable kids, it was putting on its most beautiful colours. Even though it probably lasted quite a long time, it felt like we had only been there for a few minutes. I was having so much mun, I didn’t want this moment out of time to come to an end. It was too light-hearted, too magic, I wanted it to last forever. 

“Lost in your thoughts?”

Sirius walked to me and stopped by my side. We both turned to the tree around which the kids were debating on which star they should put at the top of it. 

“You came here last year, right?” I asked curiously. 

“Yeah.” Sirius nodded and I looked at him. He had a light smile on his lips and his eyes were sparkling. “To be honest, I don’t even know why I came here in the first place. I should’ve been at James’ but… I don’t know. I was feeling bad and I left. I came here and I saw most of these kids. Yes, they were already here.” He added when I gasped. “They were so sad and I just- I couldn’t let them have a Christmas as crappy as the one I was having. The nurse on duty was half asleep and she asked me to keep them busy so I helped decorating the tree…”

“And you promise to come back this year.” I finished softly. 

Sirius scratched the back of his head and smiled almost shyly. 

“I’ve come back a few times already. There’s- there’s this little girl, the one with the antlers. Her name is Sofia. Her parents… Let’s say they weren’t especially loving with her. She reminds me of myself, you know? Except that she has absolutely no one. I- I just don’t want her to be alone.”

“Sirius, that’s-”

“Sirius! We’ve chosen this one!” suddenly exclaimed Sofia while waving a golden star. 

Sirius immediately joined her and kneeled so that his face was in front of her and asked with a smile:

“Do you want to put the star on the top of the tree?”

“Oh yes!” she beamed and opened her arms to Sirius. 

He lifted her up effortlessly, extending his arms so that the little girl could reach the very top of the tree. Delicately, as if it was the most precious thing in the world, Sofia put the star at its place and all of us applauded. She seemed to be as glowing as the star. Sirius pretended to drop her and her laughter filled the cafeteria. The kids surrounded Sirius and Sofia. 

“You know what? I think your tree is beautiful.” declared Sirius who ruffled a boy’s hair. 

“This is our tree!” corrected the boy, whose name was Tim. 

The nurse on duty - who was fully awake - broughts biscuits and tea. The kids, joined by James, Peter and Remus, gathered around a table to share this well deserved snack. As for Sirius, he stopped next to me. 

“I believe you were going to say something.” 

“I was going to say that this… It’s incredible, Sirius. You make them so happy!”

“They make me equally happy.” he murmured. 

I turned to him and put my hand on his shoulder. 

“Does that mean you’re a softie?”

“Shut up, Y/L/N.”

We laughed and Sirius wrapped his arm around me . Slowly - because I was now walking into an unknown territory - I rested my head on his shoulder. Far from flinching, he even did the same and we stayed like this, looking at our friends who were making fools of themselves to make the kids laugh. A strand of Sirius’ hair fell in front of my eyes and I didn’t even bother to remove it, afraid it would break whatever was enveloping us. And then, suddenly…

“Will you kiss already?”

James and Remus were smirking and Peter was smiling as broadly as the kids. I looked up: there was a piece of mistletoe that was slowly appearing above our heads. I felt Sirius’ other arm pulling me against him. Without losing a second, I crashed my lips on his and intertwined my hands in his hair. Even the whistles of James couldn’t have made me react, at the moment Sirius seemed to be the only part of my world. 

_ _ _

It was very late at night, now. Half of the kids had fallen asleep while the boys and I had told them stories, curled up ones against the others. Not Sofia. Comfortably snuggled in Sirius’ arms, her thumb was in her mouth and her eyes were wide open. She even groaned slightly when the nurse in charge announced it was time for them to go to bed.

“You can’t be tired for the opening of your presents tomorrow!” she said.

The kids who were asleep were woken up and the joyous group left the cafeteria. Tim and Sofia stayed a bit longer. 

“Will you be there next year?” asked the little girl, who was in front of Sirius.

The latter kneeled and shook hands with her.

“I’ll come back even sooner, that’s a promise little princess.”

Sofia nodded, laid a wet kiss on Sirius’ cheek, waved at us and left. Tim grabbed the bottom of Peter’s sweater. 

“And you? Will you come back?”

Peter nodded with energy and James and Remus smiled broadly. 

“Of course we’ll be there. And you know what? We’ll organize a competition.”

“The biggest chocolate eater will win a special prize!” exclaimed Peter. 

“You should begin to train, you have a master in front of you!” added James on the tone of confidence, pointing at Remus with his thumb. 

“Shut up, Prongs.”

[marjansmarwani]

all I know is that this is where I wanna be

Tk & Owen || 1k || ao3

“Promise me this won’t be our last Christmas together” + comfort for Day 3 of @911christmasweek2020​

---

TK helps Owen decorate for Christmas and asks his dad to make him a promise. Owen would love to give his son the reassurance he wants, but there are somethings even he can’t do.

Huge thanks to both @officerrxyes for reading this and putting up with me as I write and @terramous for suggesting the title. 

Owen and TK give me a lot of feelings, which means you all get to read about them. This is fairly angsty but I once I saw the prompt it needed to be written. I also did one for day 5 (which got even darker, sorry) so that one will be up Friday. Enjoy!!

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

“Dad, let me get that.” 

“TK, I am not an invalid. And this isn’t even heavy.” 

“Still, you strain yourself enough at work, you shouldn’t be doing it on your off-hours too.”

Owen threw a skeptical look at his son, “What, and leave you to get all the boxes down from the attic alone?” 

“Yes! I’ll bring them down, you can start unpacking them.”

“Okay, I give!” Owen held up his hands in surrender and backed away from TK, who was rolling his eyes at his father even as he headed back up the ladder to the attic to grab the rest of the boxes. 

“Have there always been this many?” he called down from the attic and Owen chuckled. 

“Yes. You were usually just conveniently busy whenever it was time to take them down.” 

Three trips later TK carefully set down a stack of boxes precariously balanced in his arms before stepping back and surveying the pile of boxes, “That’s the last of it and I’m starting to think that we should seriously consider parring some of this down before we pack it up again at the end of the season.”

“When did you become such a grinch?” 

“I am not being a grinch, I’m trying to be practical — do we really need this many Christmas decorations?” 

“Yes.” 

TK rolled his eyes but Owen could see the smile threatening to form, “okay, fine. I still think it would be better if we narrowed it down just a bit.”  

“But what would Christmas be without the decorations you made in first grade?” Owen asked as he pulled a lopsided reindeer ornament out of one of the boxes, holding it up to show TK.

“See now that is definitely something we don’t need,” TK lunged to grab for it but Owen pulled it away. 

“Nope, sorry son; it is my sworn duty as your father to save all of your old art projects and pull them out once a year to embarrass you. I don’t make the rules.”   

“Dad…” 

“It’s tradition TK! Besides, I’m sure Carlos will find it adorable.” 

TK groaned but turned away. He knew arguing with his father when it came to things like this was impossible — he would just wait and sneak it down later. 

They continued going through the boxes and pulling out what they would need, deciding where in the new house everything should go. It certainly had a lot more space to fill than Owen’s old New York apartment had but judging by the amount of decor tumbling out of the boxes, it wouldn’t be a problem. 

“Why do you even have all this stuff?” TK asked at one point, “There is no way you had room for all this in the apartment.” 

Owen shrugged, “I didn’t put it all up every year. Besides, it’s mostly just accumulated stuff. Some of it was your mom’s, some of it Tracy’s. Guess they didn’t want it when they left.” 

“Can’t imagine why,” TK deadpanned as he pulled out a length of sparkly pink tinsel. 

“That was definitely Tracy’s,” Owen noted, “we can probably get rid of that.” 

“Have you heard from her recently?” 

“Not since before we left New York. Why, have you?” 

TK shrugged, “Not much, a text here and there. She still makes sure to call me on my birthday every year.” 

Owen smiled, “She’s good like that.” 

TK returned the smile, a little sadly, “Yeah, she is. Unfortunately, I think the pink tinsel has to go. I don’t think anyone but her could pull it off.” 

Owen chuckled and moved on to the next box. He paused before opening it, looking over at TK who was frowning as he pulled tangled garland out of the box before him. 

“It’s nice having you here to help me with this. It’s like old times, I’ve missed this.” 

TK looks away from Owen, suddenly very focused on the garland tangle in his hand, “I’m sorry for skipping out on you for the past few years. There were always...other things that I somehow managed to convince myself were more important.” 

They both knew who he meant by “other things,” but Owen moved past it breezily. 

“It doesn’t matter. That’s in the past and with all that has happened, I think it’s safe to say that we’ve both changed since then.”

He reached into the box before him and made a triumphant noise as he pulled out the tree topper. “I found it — ready to help me put it on?” 

TK nodded and placed down the hopeless knot he had been fiddling with, crossing the room to join his dad at the tree. Owen had pulled out the step ladder and was about to climb up it when TK interrupted him, “Dad,” he said reproachfully. 

“A little climb up a step ladder isn’t going to kill me, TK.” 

“Best not to risk it though.” 

Owen rolled his eyes, but handed over the tree topper regardless. TK took it from him and climbed up instead, carefully placing it on the top of the tree before climbing down and standing next to his dad to admire it. It was a stylized red and green fire helmet with 252 emblazoned on the front; a gift from his dad’s old crew, years and years ago. 

“You know,” Owen noted, “maybe it’s time for a new one. I think 126 would look pretty good up there, what do you think?” 

TK didn’t answer. Instead, he was studying Owen, watching the happiness and joy radiate from him at the simple sight of the decorated tree; of a night spent together putting it all up. 

“Dad?” he asked, voice low.

Owen turned to face him, his smile dropping when he saw TK’s expression, “What is it, kid?” 

“Promise me this won’t be our last Christmas together.” 

Owen sucked in a breath as he noticed the tears gathering in his son’s eyes. Instead of answering he took a step closer, pulling him into a tight hug. 

“You know I can’t promise that,” he said into the embrace, “no more than you can.” 

There was silence for a while as the two Strand men stood in the middle of the cheerily decorated living room, clutching each other tightly. Eventually, Owen spoke again: 

“But I can promise I will do everything I can to make sure that it is not. I want a lot more Christmases with you kiddo, and I am going to do everything I can to make sure that we get them.”

[ladyblogger-margie]

The Sins You Can’t Outrun - Chapter 1

Pairing: Will “Ironhead” Miller x Santiago “Pope” Garcia (Triple Frontier)

Summary: When Will’s boyfriend Pope is kidnapped, Will must do the unthinkable to get him back. This is part 1 of a series. 

Word Count: 1347

Warnings: 18+ for violence/gore, (the series will eventually involved smut but not in this chapter)

a/n: This started as a prompt for Writer Wednesday organized by @autumnleaves1991-blog​ , (original post here) and I’m going to continue it as a series! Series details to come once I get that organized. 

MY MASTERLIST

When Pope promised Will he would start taking work closer to home, taking on the domestic drug trade was not exactly what Ironhead had in mind. 

But technically it did get Pope home by dinner, most nights at least, and he rarely was away for more than three days at a time, so Will worried silently and didn’t press the subject. He just continued with his routine, and worked on building a home for his former friend turned current boyfriend. 

Will was just so happy that the two had finally gotten together after years of secret hookups filled with shame and embarrassment and secrecy. Coming home from South America with no money and a dead friend had shifted their perspectives. Just grateful that they were both alive had opened the door for them to finally be something more. 

When Will returned, alone, he thought about when Pope had come to him with the proposition of the doomed mission in the first place. He thought about why he had said yes. Well technically he never did actually say yes, did he? No, he told Pope to talk to Tom. Will felt it was his fault that Tom was dead. 

It was Will’s fault because he got Tom involved. He thought he needed Tom’s perspective because he knew that around Pope, Will had no objectivity. Pope was like a blinding sun to him, alluring, attractive, blinding. Will knew he was going to follow Pope anywhere, would always follow Pope anywhere. 

Having survived the ordeal, Will thought it was a good a time as any to gain a little perspective for himself. Sure Pope was still the blinding sun, but Will didn’t mind. The sun was always warm, and leading, and strong. Will could use a little bit of sunshine. 

So when Pope came home eventually, Will marched right over to his place and put everything out on the table, and asked Pope to be his boyfriend. Three days, and many, many hours of passion later, Will walked out sun-kissed and in a relationship. 

The location of the money they threw off the mountain remained unspoken knowledge between the pair since they had gotten together. Will regretted telling Pope the coordinates, and he was afraid if he brought them up again it would drive Pope either to go collect.

He was also worried Pope was waiting for Will to bring up the location first and treat the conversation like permission. Will didn’t want him to go after it, so he just kept his mouth shut. 

But Will should have known Pope better by now, and he knows he shouldn’t have been so naïve. 

The first package arrived minutes before the first phone call. Will was coming back from a late night training session with Benny and was expecting the knock on the door to come from Pope for a late night booty call. 

Instead it was a bike messenger with a small box looking for Will’s signature. Will thought it was late for a delivery, but he didn’t question it. 

Will signed and closed the door, stepping into the front hall where he stood to open the package. He should have sat down first. 

He opened the package and found a bloody polaroid of a well-beaten Santiago Garcia. He stumbled back, bumping into the wall behind him and sliding to the floor. He looked through the box, flicking through other polaroid's of different angles of Pope’s face beaten, his hands tied, his shirt ripped with gashes on his back. The sight was sickening, but the polaroid's weren’t the only things sent to him. Also in the box were ten fingernails. The blood was sticky and not fully dry yet so Will knew they were fresh and he prayed that that meant Pope actually was still alive. 

Then the home phone rang and Will lunged at it. 

“Pope,” his voice was desperate, but rationally he knew it wasn’t Pope on the other end. 

“The abandoned gas station on route 12. Answer the payphone in 15 minutes, alone, or we send you a bigger piece of your boyfriend,” a gravelly voice on the other end commanded Will. 

“Let me talk to him,” Will commanded right back, “I need proof he’s still alive.”

Will heard the phone shuffle on the other side, then Pope’s voice came through the other end, pained and muffled. 

“Will,” was the only thing Pope said before the line went dead. 

Will looked at the watch on his wrist and it read 11:42. Then he rushed to the lock box in his closet and pulled out his gun, tucking it into the back of his pants before he put on a baseball hat and heavy coat to combat the heavy mist that had fallen in the night. 

He jumped in his truck and sped off, his mind racing a thousand miles a minute. He thought tactfully as he drove, racing through the mist covered town. The clock on his dashboard read ‘11:48’ ; it was nearly Friday already. 

There was no way to know exactly how long these guys have had Pope captive, but Will was fairly certain it had to have happened either when Pope was on his way home from work, at his house, or sometime on his way to Will’s - sometimes Pope was already in bed waiting for Will to come home from training. So Will figured they’ve had Pope about 7 hours at most. 

Clearly this wasn’t an assassination attempt against Pope, it was more personal than that. Then there was the fact that Will had been the one to receive the box and the instructions, so it definitely was personal - if it was professional it’s likely the box would have been sent to Pope’s job. 

Will sped through town, leaning on his instincts to guide him, his attention completely on what he was going to do about Pope. 

He thought about calling Benny and Frankie, but decided to wait. He was fairly confident that Pope wasn’t at the abandoned gas station, but he was sure these guys would have eyes on the site. If he showed up with backup, he’d be putting Pope at risk. 

They told him to answer the phone. They probably wanted to negotiate at a location where Will couldn’t possibly trace the source even if he did have that ability. They just wanted to scare him in an effort to increase their sense of power. 

Will was determined not to give them the satisfaction. Sure his whole body was trembling at the idea of Pope hurt like that, and all alone. He was in love with him and he hadn’t even told him yet. He was absolutely terrified, but he was going to do whatever possible to ensure he had the chance to say those special three words to Pope when they were both home safely. 

Will screeched to a stop in front of the phone booth at 11:56, one minute to spare. He stood still in front of the payphone and took stock of his surroundings. He seemed to be alone, there were very little sounds around him, certainly nothing like footsteps in the trees, or an approaching car. If someone was there, they posed him no threat - at least not before the phone call. 

Then the phone rang and Will answered immediately. 

“Punctual, good,” the voice on the other end of the phone mocked Will. 

Will gripped the phone tightly in his hands, “Where’s Santiago Garcia?”

“He’s here, he’ll survive,” the voice said casually, “Or at least, he will if you return what you’ve taken.”

Will’s stomach turned, Lorea, but he was dead, wasn’t he?

“Lorea?” Will breathed into the phone. 

“He’s dead, you and your goons took care of that,” the voice responded with malice, “But that didn’t give you any claim to what you stole, and we want it back.”

Will shook his head, “That’s impossible. We don’t have it. We left it behind in South America.”

“Then you better go get it,” the voice demanded, “I expect it hand delivered in 6 days.”

“Delivered where?” Will asked. 

“I’ll be in touch. Oh, and if you include the authorities in any way, I’ll mail you the pieces of him one by one and you’ll never be able to put him back together. If you don’t deliver the money, Garcia dies,” the voice finished and the line cut off. 

Will hung up the phone and rescanned the area. He was still alone, but he couldn’t shake that feeling he was being watched.  

Pope was alive, but he had to go get that money he had been trying desperately to forget. If he didn’t Pope was dead. 

He had to call Benny and Frankie and ask them for a cursed favor. 

To be continued...

Tags: @autumnleaves1991-blog​

[smiting-finger]

Previous HP AU parts: Here, here, here and here

“So, Requiem,” Wei Wuxian says as soon as the image on the surface of the bronze mirror ripples out into the uppermost three quarters of Nie Huaisang’s head.

(“My brother hung it in the office when he took over as Sect Leader,” Nie Huaisang explains during their first mirror-call after Wei Wuxian’s return. 

Wei Wuxian immediately drops the topic.

“Do the other Sect Leaders just … let it go?” he asks Lan Zhan later, and receives a small headshake in reply.

“He adds extra seat cushions to his chair during official meetings,” Lan Zhan says, his voice uncoloured by emotion, his gaze steady as he turns to meet Wei Wuxian’s. “But he says they’re difficult to balance on.”

Wei Wuxian drops the topic a second time.)

“The song that we learned at school for calming restless souls?” Nie Huaisang asks with three quarters of an appraising look, and then adds, “Those of us who weren’t tone-deaf, anyway.”

“That’s the one,” Wei Wuxian agrees, and if that’s a dig at the time he deliberately played out of tune and almost sent old Professor Lan beyond the veil to soothe the spirits of the dead in person, he stands by his choices.

(If it’s a reference to Wen Ning, then - well, the poor boy tried his best. You can’t be good at everything.)

“I was thinking,” he continues, leaning back in his chair. He waves his wand at the small pile of paper birds in front of him, which line up obediently along the desk edge and take turns to divebomb the makeshift target drawn on the back of his office door. 

“We use Requiem as a conduit to magically encourage emotional calm - so there’s no reason, in theory, that we couldn’t use music to do the opposite, is there?”

Nie Huaisang taps his fan against his chin a few times (or, at least, that’s what Wei Wuxian assumes is causing the soft patting sounds he hears, since his line of sight stops at Nie Huaisang’s upper lip), before asking:

“You want to ... compose a song that makes souls restless?”

“Not restless,” Wei Wuxian doesn’t need magic to do that, “I just want to … encourage them to feel certain things. Or have certain states of mind.”

He slings a dart at the door and sighs when it only barely makes it into the target’s outermost boundary.

“You mean,” Nie Huaisang begins slowly, “like that time with Professor Lan and your shitty flute playing in third year?”

“Well, yes,” Wuxian allows, because technically that is what happened, “but also no. I’m also thinking more through the actual music than the quality thereof. And ... I’m also possibly not looking to induce rage?”

His second dart lands closer to the centre, but not by much. A paper bird embedded into the next section over starts to shake its butt at him in a smug victory dance.

Rude.

“So instead,” Nie Huaisang prompts gently, “you’re looking to induce…?”

“...arousal?” Wei Wuxian offers hopefully.

There’s a moment of silence, which is eventually broken by the slide of Nie Huaisang’s fan as he flicks it open.

“Why?” he asks finally, doing a remarkable job of keeping the judgment out of his face.

“The pursuit of knowledge is a worthwhile goal in and of itself,” Wei Wuxian supplies in his loftiest impression of Lan Qiren’s lecture-voice.

Nie Huaisang simply looks at him.

“And maybe in this case, the knowledge might have some personal application, too,” Wei Wuxian admits, and is met with a second moment of silence.

“I truly don’t know if Lan Wangji deserves my condolences or congratulations,” Nie Huaisang says eventually, and shakes his head.

“Why not both?” Wei Wuxian shrugs.

-

“It comes down to a question of whether lust is fundamentally physical or spiritual, doesn’t it?” Lan Xichen muses between stirs. “Could you pass me the three-legged crow feathers, please? They’re in the box on the - no, the one next to - yes, that one, thank you.”

He takes the dish from Wei Wuxian, scatters the feathers evenly across the bubbling surface of whatever potion he’s brewing and immediately takes a step back, drawing Wei Wuxian along by the elbow. A second later, the feathers begin to spark, whizzing around in jerky figure-eights before finally sinking into the pale liquid with a soft hiss and a few wisps of white smoke.

“Now where were we?” Lan Xichen asks himself, picking up his wooden ladle to resume his gentle stirring. “Oh yes, that’s right. Requiem acts on the metaphysical component of the being - the mind and soul, if you will. We know that because of its effectiveness on ghosts, who possess no physical component at all. Therefore, it follows that if lust is purely - or, otherwise necessarily - physical, then Requiem will not be a useful basis for what you’re trying to achieve.”

“Right,” Wei Wuxian says, nodding slowly. “And that’s not even considering that the physical and mental components of lust might vary in comparative size from person to person...”

Lan Xichen hums in agreement and opens a box of yao grass, carefully selecting a sprig and then slipping off the small cord binding it together.

“We’ll just have to test it, then,” Wei Wuxian decides firmly.

To Lan Xichen’s credit, his hand, outstretched as it is over the mouth of the cauldron, only pauses for the briefest of moments before his fingers uncurl to allow the yao grass to fall in.

“I look forward to your findings,” he says serenely.

-

“Get out,” Lan Qiren says.

“But-” Wei Wuxian protests, because he has an entire speech prepared to explain why, as the Theory of Magic teacher, Lan Qiren should be absolutely be interested in this project.

“OUT,” Lan Qiren thunders.

Wei Wuxian gets.

-

“Can ghosts even … release?” Nie Huaisang wonders from his perch on the edge of the water, on one of his rare visit to the Gusu Academy. 

With both classes and Nie Huaisang’s official business finished for the day, the afternoon presents a perfect opportunity for Wei Wuxian to indulge in nostalgia for their schooling days. And so, as soon as lunch is over, he drags Nie Huaisang and Wen Ning out the door and into a romp all over the grounds to marvel at all the things that have changed, as well as all the things that haven’t.

Somehow they’ve ended up at the cold springs, the scene of many a student tryst (tragically, not a single one of them involving Wei Wuxian), and countless youthful fantasies.

None of which the three of them are calling to mind, sitting as they are with their pant legs rolled up to their knees so that they can soak their feet (or, in Wen Ning’s case, hold their feet above the water in a good approximation thereof) like the old men they are.

It’s not quite like the old days (the absence of a familiar, derisive snort; of the loud words that are almost sharp enough to hide the fondness thrumming beneath them like heartbeats under breastbone, is too pronounced for that), but in the miracle of After, it’s more than Wei Wuxian thought he’d be able to have.

(It’s enough.)

“Let’s say lust is metaphysical enough for your reverse-Requiem to work,” Nie Huaisang continues, “and then you play it for a spirit, and get them worked up. What do they ... do with that? Can ghosts-”

He makes an unmistakeable jerking gesture with his hand.

Wei Wuxian frowns. He hadn’t considered that.

And then, with an eerie synchronisation that Wei Wuxian can only attribute to the seven formative years they spent living in each other’s pockets, they turn as one to look at Wen Ning, who lets out an alarmed squeak.

“Does it matter?” Wei Wuxian asks, deciding to take pity on Wen Ning and refrain from pursuing that line of inquiry, 

“Well,” Nie Huaisang answers, turning to him with a significant wide-eyed glance, “think about it this way: if you were a resentful spirit, and someone played a song for you that made you build up all this lust that had nowhere to go … wouldn’t you become more resentful?”

Wen Ning squeaks again, his eyes like black saucers in his pale face.

“Hm,” Wei Wuxian says, pausing to consider this most excellent point.

“Actually, wait” Nie Huaisang says after a moment. “There’s at least one outlet that I’ve just thought of-”

“Possession,” Wei Wuxian supplies immediately.

“Right?” Nie Huaisang exclaims, waving his fan excitedly. “Can you imagine, a horny, possessed horde-”

“-charging around the countryside” Wei Wuxian continues, grinning with mixed horror and delight, “humping everything in its path-”

(They spend the next hour casting bubble-head charms on themselves and taking turns to swim to the bottom of the cold spring so that they can promise Wen Ning that no, they certainly won’t be asking him to help them test any of this, and they won’t be testing anywhere near him, either, Wei Wuxian will make sure that all testing happens far, far away, so can he please come back out now, the students would be sad if he stayed hiding inside the pool forever-)

-

“WHY ARE YOU SO EMBARRASSING?” Jin Ling yells, not letting the fact that he’s currently upside-down and hanging from the ceiling get in the way of his outrage.

“Students who break into my office to poke around my things have no right to complain about what they find,” Wei Wuxian replies calmly, leaning back in his chair so that he can look up at the two bodies suspended in mid-air and wriggling fruitlessly against the confines of their bindings. 

“IT WAS A DARE,” Jin Ling shouts defensively, starting to swing back and forth from the force of his own righteousness.

“I wouldn’t be so proud of that if I were you,” Lan Jingyi mutters under his breath.

“Oh?” Wei Wuxian inquires politely, leaning forward so that he can rest his elbows on his desk and pointedly steeple his fingers at his miscreant students. 

“A dare to look through my notes?”

“No,” Jin Ling shoots back hotly, before subsiding into a muttered, “I just looked at those because they were there. AND,” he resumes, remembering his earlier indignation, “when I did,” it turned out to be all - all -”

What the boys have managed to find are actually all Wei Wuxian’s half-sketched plans of ways to surpass (or just match, Wei Wuxian would be more than happy with even approximately matching) Lan Zhan’s patently unmatchable love confession. 

(Ten years of waiting and the first thing out of his mouth when he sees Wei Wuxian’s face again is “Wei Ying, I love you.”

What was the first thing that came out of Wei Wuxian’s mouth after seeing Lan Zhan’s face again?

“Ho ho ho, you think your puny barrier charm is gonna make me sleep in this box when I could be sleeping in your bed? Well think again!”

It really doesn’t compare.)

So far, each one has ended in a frustrated jumble of scribbled-out lines and some variation on WHAT WAS I THINKING? THIS DOESN’T EVEN COME CLOSE, but he’ll get there eventually.

“-all-” Jin Ling continues to splutter, “plans to - to have your way with Professor Lan!”

Wei Wuxian hums in agreement. What a charmingly missish turn of phrase - Jiang Cheng’s fingerprints are all over the boy’s upbringing.

“Everyone’s always talking about all the things you invented during the War,” Jin Ling continues to rage, unaware that his intended audience is only half-listening, “talking about how you were the best mind of your generation - The best mind, and THIS IS WHAT YOU’RE WASTING IT ON?”

“Can you stop?” Lan Jingyi hisses. “If you make him angry, he’ll never let us go!”

He jerks his hip in a clear attempt to nudge his fellow prisoner. Unfortunately for him, he uses too much force and overshoots the mark, excess momentum instead sending them both spiralling around each other as the charmed ropes holding them up begin to rapidly intertwine.

“What else would I use it on?” Wei Wuxian asks, watching with badly-concealed amusement as the boys’ efforts to stop spinning only make them spin faster. “I don’t know about you, but I certainly can’t think of anything more important than getting into Lan Zhan’s-”

“SHAMELESS!” Jin Ling howls as he and Lan Jingyi begin to spin in the opposite direction.

“STOP YELLING!” Lan Jingyi yells.

“You wouldn’t have seen it, because I haven’t written it down yet,” Wei Wuxian continues mercilessly over the top of the resultant shouting match. “But if the song doesn’t work, there’s this part-human creature in Europe that does an apparently irresistible seduction dance. It shouldn’t take me too long to learn it-”

Jin Ling’s answering bellow of rage, Wei Wuxian notes fondly, is almost an exact copy of Jiang Cheng’s.

-

“So what’s this actually about?” Nie Huaisang asks during their next mirror-call, after Wei Wuxian plays another three notes that create a curl of something in his belly that could maybe be mild interest (or could maybe be just gas).

“What do you mean, ‘actually’?” Wei Wuxian asks reflexively, picking up his brush and carefully crossing yet another failed stanza off his list. “It’s about what it’s about - expanding my foreplay repertoire so that Lan Zhan doesn’t get bored and leave me for Mianmian.”

“You said it wasn’t about inciting rage,” Nie Huaisang continues thoughtfully, completely ignoring him. “So what else would you need to draw out of people?”

He tilts his face up towards the ceiling and purses his lips.

“It wouldn’t be happiness - we’ve already got charms for that - sadness? But why would you-”

Nie Huaisang freezes, and then slowly, carefully, brings his eyes back down to meet Wei Wuxian’s.

Theirs is a generation that grew up in war. Who among them doesn’t have unresolved grief? Who doesn’t have emotions they’ve repressed (trauma, resentment, guilt) - at first because there wasn’t the time or energy between the fighting and the surviving to properly work through them, and then afterwards because it just seemed easier to move on and try to forget?

(How many ghosts are unable to move on because they cannot resolve worldly attachments that they’re too afraid to remember?)

Nie Huaisang clears his throat.

“Why don’t you play me that last one again?” he suggests lightly. “I think you inverted one of the chords wrong. After we fix that, maybe it’ll work better.”

-

“Oh good, you’re back,” Wei Wuxian says when he steps into the Jingshi to find Lan Zhan already waiting. “Shall we-”

“Am I not passionate enough for you?” Lan Zhan cuts in, apropos of nothing. His voice is mild, but there’s a glint in his eyes that puts Wei Wuxian on immediate alert.

(And Little Wei Wuxian on immediate alert too, but that’s basically a given when Lan Zhan is involved.)

“...no? What makes you think that?” Wei Wuxian asks carefully, and Lan Zhan mutely lifts up a very familiar, half-finished composition.

Ah.

“I can explain,” Wei Wuxian offers quickly, holding his arms out between them and automatically stepping backwards in response to Lan Zhan’s very forceful (and very long!) step forwards.

“I have very valid reasons,” he adds, continuing to scramble back as Lan Zhan continues to advance, until he finds himself pinned between a rock and Lan Zhan’s hard, manly chest, “none of which are in any way a challenge to the strength of your ardour-”

He has just enough time for a half-laugh, half-yelp as he’s picked up and thrown onto the bed, and then all further protests are put on hold while Lan Zhan proves, aggressively and comprehensively, that he’s more than passionate enough.

-

With Lan Zhan’s musical expertise involved, the deconstruction of Requiem into its core magical components goes a lot more smoothly, and much more quickly.

The “testing” of Wei Wuxian’s derivative composition also becomes a lot more fun, if a lot less reliable in terms of producing valid results.

In the end, Wei Wuxian is only a little disappointed that they don’t manage to get an aphrodisiac song out of it.*

-

In the second year after his return, Yiling Patriarch Wei Wuxian developed the song Release, which has since been adapted for a wide range of therapeutic applications, including use in treatments for anxiety, depression, stress and trauma. 

With assistance from noted symphonimagus Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian deconstructed the then-established Requiem and, by applying its foundational magical principles in reverse, was able to create a song that, when played, encouraged the controlled expression of emotion under the player’s guidance. 

Unfortunately, his notes and experimental logs have since been lost.

-excerpt from the Annals of the Cloud Recesses

-

*

“LAN ZHAN, LOOK!” Wei Wuxian shrieks, running down the side of the hill towards him, waving a handful of leaves and flowers, “APHRODISIAC GRASS!”

[nebula-jazz]

Fictober prompt 28

ROTTMNT Donatello x reader

Note: Sorry I have been gone for so long! I have been wrapped up in school and I also know that this isn't my normal fandom... This is completely self indulgent because he popped on my feed on youtube and he was my first comfort character. And now I found ROTTMNT and I got hit in the face by my best friend on exactly my type... Intelligent, gremlin, cocky, and emotionally unavailable... So this is a complete callout to everyone who has the same type no matter the gender and please enjoy this drabble. And fully expect on several different fandom releases on Halloween including a oneshot for His World. But enough of my rambling! To the story!

You had been in quarantine for nearly an entire year and now your favorite month had been ruined by the hussle and the bustle of your closest aunt asking you to come to New York. Her explanation was that she was taken ill and she needed someone to look after the house and your youngest cousin April O’Neil, much to your distaste.

It was not that you hated your youngest cousin, opposite in fact you adored her, but you two never exactly saw eye to eye on most things. You two were so close up until about five or six years ago and then she changed and you felt as if for the worst. This change caused you both to drift apart.

Since she was your only friend and family member that got you; this distance caused you swirling into an unhealthy mind set. And you got caught up with the wrong people at the worst time in your life as your younger brother disappeared and your mom got distant.

Which lead you here, packing all research that you had gathered over the past few months since the shredder accident, your Bo staff, and other essential items. Taking the time to slide the delicate frames of your glasses up every few minutes. Your boss Baxter had called you a few minutes ago saying that he set you up an apartment and a plane to New York and expected you be ready for training with Rocksteady as soon as you landed. Thinking about it made you flinch.

Grabbing the metal case with your research, your duffel with clothes and toiletries, and your backpack filled with snacks your Bo and training clothes you headed down stairs. You kissed your mom on the head who was on the phone at the couch; gently leaving a large stack of cash that should last her awhile. You slipped out the front door and slid into a sleek car that Baxter had sent for you.

During the car ride you stayed silent, typing away at your computer, jotting down the breakthrew that you had made. Your specific specialty in his company was the idea of spirits and how to harness them, extract them, and even switch with them. Baxter had found out about you and what people and even yourself, at the time, believed as a silly project about four years ago. You had proven that spirits were real and that there was a possibility to do something with them.

He accelerated you through highschool and college, easily making you apart of a team and gave you everything that you needed for your research. You honestly didn’t care what he would do with it as soon as you had perfected everything in your now extensive project. All you cared about was getting your mom and brother back and he promised to keep the investigation open if you handed all research over to him as soon as you were done.

You barely slept on the plane. Fear creeping up your spine and turned your veins icey as you mulled over what was waiting for you when you landed. The training with Rocksteady was not normal. As he was a huge hog and the training was to get you faster, but it would inevitably end with a concussion and a broken bone as it normally would. Then Baxter would inject you with some green liquid that, yes would accelerate the healing process and you would no longer have any broken bones, but it would feel like your entire body was on fire and your back feeling like it was being ripped to shreds.

You eventually drifted into a fitful sleep. You felt like you had barely closed your eyes before you were woken up by the gentle but cold hand of Baxter. You were in a car now just outside of headquarters.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh MAh Gawd! Y/N! What happened to you?!” You winced at the worried yell that came from April. You had just gotten released from the lab and your head was pounding from the lack of food and water.

“Just a little scuffle just outside the office. Don’t worry about it.” You croaked out and offered a, what you hoped to be, a reassuring smile. You tried to swallow against the sandpapery walls of your throat.

You felt her soft but calloused hands cup your face as she looked at you. You winced as she prodded at the dark bruises on your jaw and forehead. She lead you to the kitchen where she started to clean the bruises and cuts up.

After several cups of water and an entire pizza, which you had devoured, she was now questioning you.

“So you are working for Baxter?” she asked, you gave her a quizzical look as you swallowed another bite of the second pizza that she had ordered. You had heard the slight tremor of fear in her voice and now it set you on edge.

“Yeah..” You answered slowly and pulled out your laptop. “He is funding my research. Take a look.”

You pushed the computer over and let her skim through the many pages of work as you dumbed down what she was reading.

“So... what you are saying is that you could put someone in a comatose state and do whatever you wanted to them but at the same time you can still talk to them in a spiritual state?” she summarized. With a soft smile you nodded, your eyes heavy from the long two days you had.

“However there are some side effects. With the trials that I ran at home it is extremely difficult to put them back in and more often than not their mind can completely erase one or multiple people from their memory. They will always remember the time they were, what I call, Ghost. There are still kinks in it but i'm pretty sure in this state there is a possibility to redirect this targeted amnesia to get rid of trauma.” You said excitedly.

She gave you a terrified look and excused herself and ran out the front door into the dim light of the dawn. You felt like you had been punched in the gut. Tears formed in your eyes and you fought down the urge to sob and throw up your food. You slammed the computer closed and stormed into the guest bedroom. You had honestly thought that she was going to be proud of you. She seemed genuinely excited about your research. But it was April, you shouldn’t have expected anything less from her.

A few weeks drifted by lazily and October was slipping through your fingertips. April was avoiding you, especially after you caught her in the act of trying to steal your laptop. So today, as a way to get away from the dreariness of the apartment and the fearful glances of April you were in the lab. You were in a loose hoodie and had a stack of pizza boxes next to you along with a large jug of water on your other side. You had just gotten done with another training session and were now working on a new test. it had gotten dark out and Rocksteady had volunteered for the new test.

You scraped your hand roughly through your hair in frustration as the program refused to start for the third time. You huffed in frustration, and looked up in alarm as the security alarms started to go off. You heard an explosion from behind you. Reaching down and grabbing your Bo you didn’t notice the jug being knocked over causing the computer to go haywire. You panicked as you tried to shut down the computer and the large machine pointed at whatever caused the explosion.

However you were too late to stop it from going off once you were able to press the emergency shut off just in time to prevent it from happening again. You heard a shout and roars from Rocksteady. you tried to reach for your more enhanced staff but were swiftly knocked out. All you saw as the world started to darken was green and a ghostly purple figure.

~~~~~~~~

That was a couple of days ago. You were now with 6 foot tall turtle ninjas. They had explained, with the help of April, what Baxter was going to do with your research. The person that you had shot was their brother Donatello. The genus out of the group who was allowing you to use his lab as you tried desperately to keep his body stable and fix his state with what little tools you had.

Your own paranoia had shot through the roof as any fast movement caused you to flinch very heavily. You and Donnie had found out that Baxter was injecting you with mutagen after a nightmare filled night caused wings to sprout from your back.

You stayed away from the other three turtles and only finding solace with Donatello. You both could ramble on and on about different projects you both were working on and the other would listen intently.

You hadn’t noticed how comfortable or how hard you had fallen until you reached the end stages of completing the ray that would make him right.

Neither of you two had noticed that you had started to flirt with each other. But everyone else knew and were eagerly waiting for him to return to normal. They were excited to see him finally kiss you and actually take you out on that date that he had been teasing you for a month with. April was happy to see you smiling again.

You didn’t realize how much you loved him or he you until you both were going over some of your note s to make sure everything was in order.

It was the end of November, just before thanksgiving. Donnie was excitedly telling you that he had been working on a surprise for you with Shelldon. That he wanted to give it you in person. And that he was excited to finally eat something instead of just watching everyone else eat. He was also rambling on how he was totally going to spar with you.

“i'm excited to finally get an infamous hug from you Don!” You chuckled barely paying attention to the notes and more on him. He laughed and he floated closer to you.

“I’m excited to give you one Angel.” he said cheekily. You glared lightly at him and the nickname that he gave you after your wings came to be.

You however stopped in your tracks as you read the small but major detail that you had mentioned to April all those weeks ago. The air ran from your lungs as a soft. “Oh.” escaped your lips.

“What?” he asked worried. He turned to the computer that had your notes on it and read through it and his face dropped. Tears welled in your eyes and the amount of hurt that ran through you was like that day that April ran.

And something inside of you knew, even as Donnie tried to think of anyone, anyone at all that he could possible forget, you knew it was going to be you. You stared at him tears running down your face and it was then you realized how hard you had fallen. And how much you will lose.

Two days before Thanksgiving was the day that was planned to fix him. You were in a room alone with his Ghost. You couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Here,” he said softly, and gestured for Shelldon to bring a small box forward. “This is for you... don’t open it until my eyes do.. ok?” He said leaning down and trying to catch your eye. You looked up at him, willing the tears back and smiled brightly.

“Will do Don! I will see you for that hug ok?” he smiles back softly and nods. He hovers his hand over your cheek, you lean into it until you feel the cool radiating off of him and you closed your eyes.

That unspoken ‘i love you’ rang through you head as you heard the machine wurr to life. You only stare at him as he floats by his sleeping body and you pray, you hope, and you plead to whatever god is listening. To allow you to have him, to allow him to remember you. As you slowly nod your head and you hear April press the button.

~~~~~~~

You try to stifle the sobs in your throat as you hear him and his brothers enjoy their thanksgiving meal that April and you had prepared for them. He didn’t recognize you as you sobbed in happiness when you saw his eyes open. He thought of you as a threat.

You carefully pulled out the small box as Shelldon floated beside you. You looked at him and he bobbed his head in acknowledgement. Slowly opening it you tried to steady your shaking hands. Inside was a locket, a bit larger than one you would find in a jewelry store. You carefully opened the locket and you saw a picture that you had taken with ghost Donnie and the music box version of your both favorite techno song. Engraved on the other half was the french translation of I love you. A loud sob ripped its way from your throat as you clutched it to your chest. 

Donnie was leaning against the wall closest to where you had ran off too. He was watching his brothers laugh and eat with their father and April. He had heard sniffling from the tunnel and quietly escaped the celebration to see where it had came from. He was surprised to see you covering your mouth and Shelldon with you. He was going to call to his creation until you had looked at Shelldon and pulled out a velvet box.

He waited a moment, watching you open it and something inside. He had to nod his head to the song that played. He did not expect the loud sob or the wail that came out of you next. He heard his brothers stop laughing and heard a soft.

“They opened it...”

“Yeah...”

“Poor Y/N... I can’t imagine.”

“Why can’t we tell him my sons?’

“Because he wouldn’t believe us.”

“Yeah! And he already distrusts Y/N... and they asked us not too.”

“A broken heart is something that can kill my children. Especially with a love that deep.”

Donnie didn’t hear anymore from his family. And confusion seeped into him. What happened while he was out?

[flooffybits]

Ready

Idol: Bae Joohyun

Request: Not exactly

She’s been at the top and has experienced the ups and downs of fame, but when the decision of whether she wants to keep going comes, Irene feels that maybe she’s done enough as Irene Bae and that she wants to see her life more as Bae Joohyun.

Author’s note: May or may not have teared up while writing the first part

Staring at the girls in front of her, the air around them wasn’t the usual playful and hyper atmosphere they’ve all gotten used to for the past years they lived together. Joohyun scanned their faces individually, starting from the youngest until her eyes met Seulgi’s sad eyes.

Yeri, despite her usual playful nature, was trying to hold back tears while she gripped Sooyoung’s hand tightly in her own and the older girl tried to comfort her the best she could while she, herself, was trying to control her emotions from coming out.

“Are you really sure about this?” Seungwan was first to speak, and like usual, Joohyun smiled at the way her friend would always ensure that they were alright despite herself. “Unnie, we aren’t forcing you, but we just want you to be sure about your decision.”

Her eyes met Seulgi’s again, the person she’s had by her side for the past decade or so. The understanding and concern in her features were easily distinguishable by the older woman and she knows.

Seulgi would be a great leader.

“I am.” She answers, her voice soft yet firm. All her life, she’s had to make decision, not only for herself, but for the group. At this moment, this decision of hers would affect both greatly and she’s spent many days and nights, leading up to this moment. “I know that it’s a big step but… I think it’s time that I start living as Joohyun and achieve more as such, instead of Irene.” She says carefully.

“I’ve accomplished a lot, and I’m really thankful for everything but… as Joohyun, there’s still so much that I have yet to do and I think that it’s time that I focus on that aspect of myself.” She tells them and the ‘94 line nods before she turns to look at the two younger girls.

“Yerim-ah, Sooyoung-ah, I know that this is hard on you but just because I won’t be staying in SM doesn’t mean that I won’t be a part of Red Velvet.” She tells them, reaching forward to place a hand on their joined hands and squeezing them with an encouraging smile that it ends up forcing a sob on the youngest girl’s lips.

“We understand, unnie. And it’s okay but you have to know that you did a lot as Joohyun, too.” Sooyoung assures her, showing her that there was no hard feelings. And how could they when all throughout their career, Joohyun has been there, every step of the way and looking after them.

She was Red Velvet’s safety net, but they knew that they could not rely on her forever, and it was only a matter of time until they had to accept that things were going to change.

“Joy is right.” Seulgi spoke up when she placed an arm around her friend and squeezed it. “You don’t have to worry, because no matter what your decision is, we’ll respect it.” She says softly and Joohyun leans against her shoulder with a smile on her face. “Yeah, and like you just said, we’ll still be in touch.” Wendy added as she wiped some of her tears away.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… I’ve gotten so used to having you around.” Yerim sniffled as she wiped her cheeks. “It doesn’t even feel like years. It’s as if I had just debuted with you, yesterday.” She added and the four older women smile at her sentiment.

“We’re still here. The five of us are always going to be a team.” Seungwan nodded to her before she leaned closer to get a good look to her friends - the people she considered her family. “It’s going to take some getting used to, but whatever happens, Red Velvet is always going to have Irene Bae Joohyun in it. We formed as five, so we continue as five.”

Though she’s used to not showing any signs of weakness in front of her girls, Joohyun couldn’t help as tears began to sting her eyes and she had to collect herself while she gripped at Seulgi’s wrist. “Unnie, we promise that we’re going to make you proud.” Sooyoung told her and she smiled softly while nodding her head.

“You already have.”

She spends one last night at the dorm as their leader. But by the time morning came, they make their way to the company to meet with management and some of their managers.

Joohyun holds Yeri’s hand on the way there, and when they get off the van, Joohyun pauses in front of the building just to take the place she’s grown accustomed to for majority of her life and takes in a deep breath.

It’s Seungwan’s hand on her shoulder that brings her back to reality and she offers her a smile before they finally enter the building to finalize everything.

..

“And you’re sure with this decision?” They knew it was coming, and though Joohyun is a big representative of SME, they understand her decision of not renewing her contract.

“I am. I have also talked with the members about it, and I promise that, even when I am no longer signed to SM, I will still support them.” They were all bracing themselves, knowing that once this meeting was over, everything would be finalized and that would be the end of their time together.

The man stared at them a bit longer before slowly nodding his head. “I see.” He murmurs and then looks back to Joohyun. “You’ve been an exceptional part to the company, Irene, and SM thanks you for your contribution and being part of the family.”

When they wrap up, the five of them sit in the conference room, staring at the table in front of them before Joohyun releases a shaky breath, steeling herself before she looks to the four with a small yet fond smile. “Well… one last show?” After agreeing that they would be doing a special stage for her farewell, they had all agreed, thankful for being given the opportunity to do so.

On the way there, Joohyun takes her phone out and she smiles lightly at the picture set as her homescreen. The lockscreen was all five of them, but when she opens it up, she’s always greeted by your smiling face and she knows that it was time that she no longer had to worry about you because of her work.

Sooyoung catches the look in her eyes and chuckles while poking her shoulder. “How is Y/n, unnie?” She asks curiously since it’s been a while when they last spoke to you.

At the mention of your name, her smile widens a bit more and she holds the device to her chest. “Y/n is doing great, just like always.” She murmurs and the teasing look on Yerim’s face comes back to replace the frown she previously wore.

“You sure are whipped.” She commented and the eldest rolled her eyes, though made no move to deny her statement. Joohyun was way too in love with you to ever deny it.

“What did she say when you told her you weren’t going to continue?” Seulgi asked curiously, knowing full well how much you supported your girlfriend’s career.

The look on Joohyun’s face shifted and she bit her lip while looking back down at her phone. “I… haven’t actually spoken to her about it.” She admits quietly, and the four look perplexed by her answer. “How come?” She looks at Seungwan while fidgeting with her bracelet and then shaking her head.

“I wanted to surprise her a bit. She’s been juggling a lot with work and I’ve been busy, too. So I thought I could do something really nice for her when I do tell her.”

The Canadian stares at her for a while, trying to understand her words when Sooyoung squeals beside her. “Are you going to… you know?” The excited smile on her face infects Yerim as her eyes widen. “Are you really?”

Soon enough, Seungwan understands the reason for their questions and raises a brow at their former leader, silently asking for confirmation while the bear stared at them in confusion, still not catching on to what was happening and Joohyun laughed while she nodded her head.

She rummaged through her purse before producing a little velvet box, prompting all four girls to scream inside the van, never mind the driver that was in front.

“Oh my god! I can’t believe it’s finally happening!”

“Can we help with planning?”

“I think I’m going to cry again.”

“I’m ready for tiny Irene and Y/n!”

For how long they’ve known your and Joohyun’s relationship, they were certain that you would end up together. The conversation came up every now and then and you would both grow flustered at their enthusiasm. But there were nights where you both laid in bed and did talk about the possibility of it.

Though you both knew that it would be difficult, add to the fact that it was still taboo for Korea, Joohyun knew, deep down, that you were it for her.

Her soulmate, the love of her life.

So with this being the first step as Bae Joohyun, she needed your yes before she could proceed with everything else.

Because for Joohyun, her biggest accomplishment would have to be marrying the person that had stolen her heart, and eventually have the family she’s always wanted with you.

She may not have started this career with you, but she was thankful for it. This job brought her, sisters that would last a lifetime, and eventually, the only person she wanted to share that lifetime with.

Irene has done a splendid job.

But as she takes a bow and exits the stage, Joohyun was ready to explore the world with you next to her.

[muse-oleum]

The Flower Shop, part 3

Kingsman - Harry Hart x Fem!OC

Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; 

Hey folks! Here’s the third installment of my series. I hope you enjoy it! We’re getting into it, finally. Also, I’ve just added another prompt list that you can find here, go give me some inspiration!

Word count: 1.7k 

Warnings: none 

The camelias shivered in the evening wind. By their place on the windowsill, they overlooked the entire room, with its large bed, desk and the man sitting there. 

Harry’s books and notebooks had all been lost when his house was bombed to the ground, so he’d had to start again. Over the course of the past few weeks, he had purchased several anthologies and was still looking for new publications on the subject of entomology. 

He missed his old notebooks, relying entirely on the scribbled pages of the battered pad he’d used during his time away. 

Harry rarely referred to his time as an amnesiac entomologist as anything else except his “time away.” He was still grappling with the strange sensation of having recovered his life but he wasn’t so sure now, after so many months wishing for freedom to go find his butterflies, which life he wanted to lead. 

Kingsman had been his home for decades, ever since he’d left the army to become a secret agent. But before that? He’d been so invested in becoming an entomologist that it almost surrounded him in a shroud of wing dust for the rest of his career. His home was full of them; his head was full of them; and his heart was full of them. 

None of his friends had ever understood his passion for the small insects. To be honest, Harry himself did not understand it fully.

His father had been very fond of gardening, and his mother never allowed him to squash any insects he found in his room. Even if it was the biggest spider in the world - at least to the eyes of a little boy - she would just pick it up in a tissue and let it free outside. He had always supposed his interest came from them. But now, looking back on how he had cleaved to his ephemeral friends, he wondered if the root for his interest did not run deeper. 

Perhaps he was fascinated by their transience? The manner in which their sense of purpose carried them to their death? He envied that. The whole of the animal kingdom, except humans, seemed to have a purpose. Harry had lost his and didn’t know how to regain it. 

Sighing, he turned off the nightstand lamp, plunging the room into darkness. Before falling asleep, he remembered his promise to Rebecca to come fix her garden shed. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. At least, he had that to look forward to tomorrow. 

Monday ----, 9 a.m

The chime of the doorbell accompanied Harry’s entrance into the flower shop. At the end of a cold February month, the sight of so many blooms was a welcome start to his day. 

“You’re an early riser!” 

Rebecca stood at her cluttered counter, snipping twigs off small branches. Harry watched, strangely fascinated, as she arranged them in an elegant bouquet. She seemed to know just where to place them. 

“It’s for a wedding,” she said, matter of factly. “Apparently, the bride is fond of forest weddings and decided to go for a woodland theme.”

“A forest wedding in February? Good luck to them.”

Her singsong laugh echoed through the shop. 

“Yes, the groom seemed rather resigned, poor chap. Let me just finish with this one and then we can go look at the shed.” 

Harry followed, calling after her, “I didn’t bring any tools, I hope you’ve got something I can work with?”

Rebecca popped her head out of the shed. “Come and have a look for yourself. It’s in quite a state, but it still stands. My dad was strangely proud of that.” 

Harry fit his broad-shouldered frame inside the small shed as best he could without towering above her. Rebecca caught his eye as he attempted to squeeze himself in, chuckling slightly.

The shed was small, built out of wood that had begun rotting many years ago. Daylight filtered through cracks along the walls and dust shimmered in the air. In the corner, a box of tools, its bright red colour contrasting strangely with its surroundings, was waiting patiently for its next use. Rebecca had arranged a large pile of fresh wood and wooden panels next to it, probably to restore the cracked walls. 

“It’s dismal, I know, but the roof is still in a really good state so i’d hate it to collapse entirely.” 

Harry gently pushed against the walls. The wood cracked and moaned but it held. The problem was the rot, which had weakened the overall structure. 

“I’m afraid if you want it to stand for any number of years, we have to tear it down completely first. The wood is rotting. Best to rebuild entirely.” 

Rebecca nodded, biting her lips nervously. 

“I don’t want to ask you to do that, I thought it just needed a few repairs. But tearing it down and rebuilding it is a job for my brother; he loves to demolish things to rebuild them.” 

A small part of Harry’s heart - which he refused to acknowledge - rebelled at the idea. 

“Nonsense, I said I’d help and I will. We will just need a lot more wood than that.”

Wednesday, some weeks later ----, 6 pm

Dropping by Rebecca’s shop had become part of Harry’s routine. Nearly everyday after work, he’d go in, buy a few flowers and go. Every weekend, he’d drop by and work on the shed. He was grateful for the distraction it provided and, slowly, began to acknowledge that Rebecca had wormed her way into his heart. 

Harry Hart had never dared to think too much about love. The Kingsman code was explicit: no attachments, no weaknesses. Eggsy and, on occasion, Merlin, had expressed how incredibly stupid and bigoted the Gentleman Guide was but the former Arthur had been uncompromising. 

Kingsman was slowly adapting and changing, especially after Poppy’s missile catastrophe. A new Arthur had yet to be found but under the capable supervision of the older agents, amongst which Harry and Merlin, the newer recruits were coming into their own. Kingsman was still not operating at full capacity, what with the HQ and the London shop in ruins, but it was getting there. 

Exhausted, Harry shook out his umbrella outside the shop before coming in, tucking it neatly in a corner. It had been a long day: recruits to assess, Merlin to check on (he was adjusting to his wheelchair but threw a few dignified Scottish tantrums along the way) and paperwork to work through. 

The smell of freshly cut flowers greeted him and, immediately, he felt better. March had brought an early spring and the blooms were peeking shyly from under their green little sprouts. 

Harry heard a commotion in the back room and, nerves on alert, made his way slowly towards the garden. Carefully popping his head in, he saw Rebecca, on the ground, looking under the sofa and murmuring soft words of encouragement. Eventually, a small kitten emerged, sniffing her fingers curiously. He meowed a few times, noticing Harry by the door, and meowed even louder, asking for food. 

“I believe this little lad is hungry.” 

Rebecca gasped, nearly bumping her head on the sofa. 

“Harry! You scared the living daylights out of me!” 

He held his hands up, taking one step in, chuckling slightly. 

“My apologies. You looked terribly busy.” 

The shabby little cat, meanwhile, completely disinterested in the antics of those two humans, had made his way towards the kitchen, no doubt drawn to the smell of soup hanging in the air. One or two loud meows later, a large bowl full of ham and leftover meat had been placed for him by the table and he happily forgot all about everything else. 

“I found him in the street this afternoon. It was cold and he was shivering and crying, so I brought him in. He wasn’t a fan of being carried somewhere new and he hid under that couch for a solid hour before you came in.” 

“Well, he’s one lucky cat.” 

Rebecca laughed softly and shook her head, her long curls bouncing around her forehead. Harry resisted the urge to tuck one behind her ear. Tying an apron around her waist, she made her way towards the stove to check on the soup. 

Harry observed her, sleeves rolled up to reveal creamy skin, feet tapping lightly to no rhythm in particular, curls pinned up by a clip, out of the way. He felt his heart give a little tug and, unable to stop himself, took a few steps towards her. 

She didn’t seem to notice, absorbed in diagnosing what exactly was missing from the soup. The warm smell of tomatoes made Harry’s mouth water. He could tell what was missing from that distance. 

“Have you added basil?”

She looked up at him, noticing his closeness, and a pretty blush spread over her cheeks. She tasted one more spoonful before smiling broadly, dashing out of the door and back again. She came back with a shriek, shaking the droplets out of her hair. Harry couldn’t contain his smile. 

Suddenly, as she was taking off her boots, a sparkling flash of blue caught Harry’s eye. Looking more closely, he froze. There were two blue butterflies, Adonis blues, flying around her head. One settled into the mass of pinned curls, the other kept looking for a perch. 

Harry’s heart soared. how he had missed his butterflies! Their gentle movements mesmerized him and, unconsciously, he took a step forward. He didn’t notice the curious look Rebecca shot him when he reached up to touch one of the butterflies. She didn’t stop him, didn’t move, as if she knew something was happening that she couldn’t see. 

Harry felt the flutter of the butterfly’s wings on his fingers and smiled. Rebecca had never seen him smile like that before. He had never smiled happily, always offered small, sad, smiles. She wondered what it was that made him so happy tonight. 

The moment ended when their eyes met, Harry blushing furiously and taking a step back; Rebecca reaching up to touch her hair, her blush deeper than before. 

“I’m sorry, I-”

“I’ve never seen you smile like that.” 

Her tone was curious, not displeased. Harry couldn’t help but answer honestly: 

“There were butterflies around your head. Blue ones. I’ve always loved blue butterflies.” 

Rebecca frowned slightly. Butterflies? In this season? Surely that was impossible, and she would have seen them. Harry lowered his eyes to the ground, realizing how utterly mad that must have sounded. He was ready to take his leave when she said: 

“I love blue butterflies too.” 

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