#and if anyone around me goes through the same I am more than happy to be a sounding board for the shared difficulty

[mekanikaltrifle]

the mortifying ordeal of trying to talk to people and absolutely whiffing it

[stsgluver]

𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 — gojo satoru

synopsis. the first years find old videos burned onto a dvd of you, satoru, shoko, and geto from 2005/6.

wc. 2.7k

tags. gojo x reader, you+shoko+gojo+geto being in the same year and besties, set in the present and past, fluff

next part / series masterlist

"is it recording?" asked one muffled but familiar voice. the screen was black, the camera covered by something or someone. the pitch was marginally higher than they were used to but yuji and nobara grinned at each other as they recognised the voice of their teacher.

"how can anyone see when you're holding it like that?" this one was more feminine and unfamiliar to the two - but not for megumi who smiled sadly at the laptop screen.

"give it to me idiots," this was another female voice. there was some more chattering in the background but the audio hadn’t been picked up over the rustling of the camera being passed around. then, for a moment, the screen goes completely white as it focused on the figure in front: shoko ieiri. 

she turned the camera around so it was looking at her three peers all wearing the same sheepish grins. "you hadn't even taken off the lens cover." 

“it was satoru’s fault,” the other female sorcerer accused the white haired boy next to her.

“no it wasn’t!” gojo whined, geto on the other side of him stifling a laugh at his childish mannerisms. he looked in disbelief that his best friend was not defending him, “why am i always the scapegoat?”

yuuji paused the video to point at the unknown girl, “who is that?”

megumi hesitated for a brief second before responding, “yn.”

“you knew her?” nobara raised a brow at her dark-haired friend. he was often stoic and kept to himself but they’d been together for several months now and even she could pick up on the uncomfortable change in his demeanour. 

megumi hummed, avoiding eye contact as he stared at the paused screen, “mhm.” you looked happy in the clip, always amused when it came to winding up gojo. he’d seen it with his own two eyes.

“did she leave jujutsu?” yuuji pondered aloud.

“something like that,” he swallowed thickly.

nobara gave megumi’s hand a light squeeze, but didn’t say anything. megumi had initially been against the idea of looking through the dvd to see their teacher’s teenage years at jujutsu high - this explained why.

yuuji, on the other hand, was oblivious to the interaction, more eager to see a young gojo (and nanami too, he hoped). he reached across nobara to unpause the video without another question.

"can we just do what we actually came out here to do?” geto asked in an exasperated tone, but he was clearly smiling as he spun gojo around so the two could go back to back. “who's taller, me or satoru?" the two had been arguing over the fact all morning so it had been shoko to suggest recording it so that there was actual evidence that neither could deny.

before either could stand fully straight against one another, you interrupted with no hesitation, "suguru." gojo’s eyes widened and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing at his expression.

"you didn't even look properly!" he threw his hands out dramatically and you shrugged, dismissing his distress.

"didn't need to," you waved a finger up and down, “shorty.”

there was a brief second of back and forth between you and gojo, no actual words being said until his pout lifted into a mischievous smile. that had you spinning on your heel in a futile attempt to try and escape him but it took only three of his strides till he’s got you in his hold, fingers tickling your sides.

“can we go ten minutes without you two flirting?” shoko complained over your laughs from behind the camera, panning over to geto who was shaking his head with a similar look that she undoubtedly wore too.

yuuji’s eyes were blown wide when he paused it again, looking at megumi in disbelief (even nobara had to sneak a glance for an explanation because she’d never seen their teacher so physically close to anyone like that). “sensei had a girlfriend?” 

“sort of,” megumi shrugged.

“oh my-” yuuji begun to exclaim but megumi cut him off by placing a hand over his wide mouth.

“if you ask any more questions, i will turn it off.”

instantaneously, yuuji mimicked zipping his mouth, locking it and throwing the key away, settling back into his seat. the dark-haired teenager unpaused the video.

the clip comes back to life again, gojo with his arms wrapped around your centre as he ceases his tickling in full view. his sleeves are rolled up so it’s visible on camera where you had dug your nails into his skin trying to prise his hands from you (very unsuccessfully, might you add). “that was not flirting. this is flir- ow i just wanted a kiss.” 

the camera dropped as shoko laughed and the video ended several seconds later, the screen swapped back to one full of files and thumbnails. there had to be well over a hundred videos, maybe more, all ranging from a few seconds to even an hour for some. 

nobara scrolled down until she came across a clip with gojo as the thumbnail. this one, she decided.

the video buffered for a brief moment before beginning. this one was outside this time, somewhere on the grounds of the high school. gojo had forgone his uniform jacket once more and his glasses were perched on the edge of his nose as he slightly bent down to hear what was being said.

shoko was the one holding the camera again – as she often was – and the one asking questions, "what's your favourite thing about being a sorcerer?"

gojo pretended to deeply ponder the question, tapping his index finger against his chin thoughtfully. just as he went to answer the question, voices came from behind both of them: two other students began walking towards them from a path on the other side of the open field.

“is that yn and geto?” gojo asked to no one in particular. he held up a finger to shoko as his feet were naturally leading him in the direction of the two people he care for most, “one second.”

shoko panned back to herself, nose scrunched up and a cigarette between her lips. she looked like she was going to complain about gojo’s inability to stay focused on one task at a time when she too got distracted by her friends in the distance. 

"someone's in love," she sung as she spun around, pointing at you and gojo and then her mouth as she pretended to gag. gojo had already presumably checked in on geto and now his whole focus was on making sure you’d come back from the mission in one piece. in the footage he pressed one long kiss to your forehead, hugging you closely to his body. “i need to smoke.”

yuuji was practically squirming in his seat, itching to say something. one sharp look from nobara, however, and he thinks better of it. the orange-haired sorcerer went back to her scrolling, finding a short fifteen second clip that lasted only twenty seconds.

initially, the screen was dark once more as it was being readjusted and then a young male, no older than sixteen came into view with a wide smile. “i’m going to be japan’s strongest sorcerer one day!”

“yu!” you appeared behind him, passing him a soft drink bottle, “of course you are! best the world has ever seen.”

“after me,” geto, who was sat next to haibara, joked as he looked at his junior with a fondness that you shared. there were some more voices and haibara glancing between talking sorcerers but nothing overtly interesting in the final few seconds.

“i have no idea who that was,” megumi admitted, and yuuji nodded nonchalantly like his silence wasn’t killing him. even the dark-haired sorcerer couldn’t stop himself from being somewhat amused by his peer.

megumi was the one to scroll down this time. he was more methodical than nobara had been and looked at several thumbnails before deciding finally on one of you and gojo. he recognised the date underneath as a date gojo had scribbled on the back of a photo that he kept in his wallet.

you were holding the camera this time, pointing it at gojo who was staring up at the clear night sky. it was well past curfew and you were both going to be in for it when yaga found you but the conflict to come could not be felt in the serenity of the fireflies’ buzzing.

“look at how beautiful the stars are,” you said aloud, though you’re entire focus was on your boyfriend in front of you. he turned to agree (and probably tell you some random fact that he knew about one particular constellation) only to catch your sly smile and your heart-eyed stare.

there was a split second as his eyes darted between yours and the camera that he almost appeared… nervous? bashful? but he quickly recovered with an eye roll, “you’re literally blessed to even be in my presence.”

you panned the camera around to yourself where you stared at gojo with a raised eyebrow. “if you can’t handle my rizz just say so.” gojo snorted and you could only keep up the facade for another second before you were giggling too. 

he rolled closer to you so he could lay his head on your chest and you lifted the camera higher to make sure you both stayed within the frame.

“smile toru,” you poked his cheek lightly and pointed up. it was odd for his students to be watching this – to see their powerful sensei with his guard completely down, tired, and in love. gojo did as he was told, ocean blue eyes almost illuminating under the night’s shadow.

it was that moment that he had saved as a photo; gojo smiling up at the camera with his body covering yours whilst you look down with him with more love than he thought he could ever deserve.

“hey! i was watching that,” yuuji complained after megumi pressed escape, cutting the video short.

megumi sniffed lightly, but shrugged it off by giving yuuji a distraction, “you choose the next one.” this was sufficient enough to distract the minor disappointment and yuuji was quick to find one he liked.

“yn’s crying! i wonder what happened,” yuuji hurriedly clicked onto the video, invested in the life of a sorcerer he could never know.

“guess who broke up again,” shoko said in a sing-song tone as you glared at her. she was sat at her desk and you were on her bed, a mountain of used tissues behind you. your face was red and blotchy from tears and you clearly did not want to be recorded right then.

“it’s not funny,” you sniffled, “and it’s just a break.”

you mumbled the last part and shoko deadpanned to the camera, mockingly mouthing what you had just said. “still disrupting my beauty sleep by coming in my room and crying,” she turned in her chair towards you, “believe it or not i don’t just wake up looking this flawless.”

“ha ha,” you uttered sarcastically, “it’s not my fault i love him.”

“you’re seventeen,” shoko dragged out, “there’ll be other ones.”

you stopped your pity party for a brief second to look shoko dead in the eye, “have you seen his bank account? there will not be other ones.” you both broke out into laughter almost instantly, the healing sorcerer agreeing with your argument.

shoko pointed to the camera, “gojo satoru i hope you see this. your girl is a gold digger confirmed.”

the video then gets cut off once a pillow has been launched directly at shoko’s head.

“next one! next one! they have to get back together!” nobara insisted. megumi lets her play the next video, he didn’t tell her about what he knew — that he’d seen you and gojo in love and together well after the video. that you survived the tribulations that came with being a teenager and overcame more as sorcerers than the average couple should have to deal with.

“so it’s been…” shoko held up one finger, then two, then glanced to geto for help.

“three days and six hours,” he recounted, knowing exactly what she was referring to.

“three days and six hours since gojo and yn called it quits and now here they are, making out at an official jujutsu event very not subtly,” shoko informed the camera, swapping the view so that it was in fact exposing your escapades at the formal event. it was nothing overtly raunchy, just gojo pressing you to a wall as he kissed your lips. still, there’s a time and a place.

“are you seriously recording this?” geto asked.

shoko spun the camera to him, “you want the camera on you?”

geto winked, adjusting his tie and leaning back on the bench as he manspread. “i look good right?” shoko shook the camera to say ‘no’ and he shrugged, pulling out a lighter for the cigarette he held between his lips. he lit his and then offered it to shoko.

just as she grabbed the lighter, a loud crash came from the direction that the two of you had been. somehow in the thirty seconds that she had been focused on geto, you two had stopped your kissing session, zenin naoyo had showed up and gojo was throwing punches with the zenin.

geto dropped his cigarette as he quickly raced to help out his best friend. shoko too followed after, running with the camera facing the fight as she called out, “the girls are fighting!”

“i bet sensei won,” yuuji smugly said as the video ended. 

nobara scoffed, taking back control of the laptop as she tried to find their next video, “obviously. he never loses – especially not to zenin naoya.” unable to make a decision with the hundreds to choose from, nobara closed her eyes, scrolled and clicked on a random video.

you and shoko were the two on screen, sat at a table seating on the train. 

“shopping haul!” you held up the bags excitedly and shoko hushed you, pointing to the seats across from you and mouthing ‘they’re sleeping’. you whispered an ‘oops’ and briefly showed a young nanami and haibara resting his head on his shoulder. 

quietly lifting up the three massive bags of shopping the two of you had between yourselves (a difficult task given the rustling of the paper), you began to lay out your items on the table. the both of you took it in turns, shoko showing off the new lighters and lipsticks she’d bought followed by you presenting several tops that you’d probably never get the chance to wear given the fact you were always in uniform.

“why are we stuck so far away when those two are just sleeping?” gojo rudely interrupted your little haul from where he and geto sat. shoko laughed, grabbing the camera to point at the two who were sat facing away two rows down. the train was pretty busy so they’d been lucky to grab the table. gojo and geto were left to fend for themselves.

gojo was peering down the isle, a pout on his lips whilst geto knelt on his chair and held his hands up pleadingly for… you two to kick your two sleeping juniors out of their peaceful seats so they can disturb your peace? there was no way that was happening.

“they’re not allowed on the adult table because they almost got us kicked out of the restaurant,” shoko explained with a tut and you oh-so-solemnly shook your head in disappointment.

the white haired sorcerer rested his head back against the chair, rubbing his brow in a frustrated manner, “the old lady started it.”

geto placed a hand on gojo’s shoulder, waving a middle finger to the camera with the other. “don’t waste your breath, satoru. they probably paid her to trip over your chair.”you and shoko glanced at each other with knowing grins before both of you started mimicking two people kissing with your hands, "mwah mwah mwah, and they're both boys."

a/n. will there be subsequent parts to this? yes most definitely. this is not proofread and very messy so if you made it the whole way ty and I hoped you enjoyed this <33333 this might be my most favourite thing to write so far

[wyattjohnston]

closer than i ever even knew - quinn hughes

summary: quinn saves the day and goes mini-golfing

word count: 1.1k

note: happy belated birthday @fallinallincurls! this is much, much shorter than i anticipated and i hope it's short but sweet. muchas gracias to @offside-the-lines <3

bingo: friends to lovers | witty banter | fake dating | it’s always been you

It starts, like any good romance movie does, with an event she doesn’t want to go to and a friend willing to save the day.

The event isn’t even big or fancy, which makes the whole thing so funny. She’s under no obligation to bring anyone, let alone a romantic partner, but, during the busiest hour of her week, a coworker had asked if she was going to, and the ‘yes’ had slipped from her mouth before she’d even realised it was happening.

Thus, Quinn Hughes was playing mini golf at a "team bonding" event her company decided was a good idea.

Her intention hadn’t been to earn any brownie points by bringing him—he had volunteered himself, after all—but the second they arrived and her boss spotted Quinn Hughes, Captain of the Vancouver Canucks, she immediately grouped them with her, her wife and the next nearest couple.

They wasted no time in heading to the first hole, her boss taking the lead and making sure they weren’t stuck behind anybody else. Which turned out to be a good thing because Quinn was taking practice swings with the putter.

She rolled her eyes as she asked, “Are you taking this seriously, or are you having fun?”

“Are we on a team?”

“No, it’s individual.”

“Then I’m taking it seriously,” Quinn answered easily. “No way am I letting you win.”

The questions came through shortly after they started, nosing in on the relationship lie that resulted in Quinn joining them for the day. Well, they weren’t aware that it was a lie, of course.

Luckily for her, Quinn was all too happy to do the talking.

The lingering looks and touches had her wondering why Quinn pursued hockey when he would have been just as successful as an actor. Even though he was determined to win, the simple repositioning of her hands on the putter and the minute correction of the position of her hips were leaving her short of words.

“Is this good enough for you, Captain?” she called over her shoulder, teasing Quinn as she lined up for her next shot. The wiggle in her hips was joking—mostly involuntary even—but it immediately drew Quinn’s eyes, even though he was mid-conversation.

“You’ve got great form, babe.��

A wink accompanied the sentence and she had to look away so that her blush wouldn’t be seen by her coworkers. Or by Quinn.

It did mean that she turned around and focused on her putting, leading to a nice hole-in-one.

At various points throughout the afternoon, Quinn’s hand found hers. Their fingers intertwined in a perfect fit, and it took all her power to not act like it was a strange occurrence; she desperately wanted to get out of her head and enjoy those moments while they lasted.

Her boss, finally taking a break from talking about hockey, asked about how they met. The looks sent Quinn’s way were a discrete panic, but he didn’t seem to be facing the same problem.

“We had the same routine running the Sea Wall—seemed like fate that we kept running into each other when my schedule’s so chaotic, you know?” he answered, providing an entirely accurate retelling that had her shocked he hadn’t opted for something a bit more romantic. “She literally fell for me.”

“Me?” she nearly screeched, any confusion she was feeling or fluttering in her stomach was immediately overtaken by incredulity. “You tripped over a dog lead!”

“You distracted me, what can I say?”

There was some cooing that followed, and Quinn refused to make eye contact despite the cocky smile on his face. It was becoming increasingly difficult to tell whether it was all just for show.

Her boss ended up winning, after a lot of effort and a competitive nature that would rival anybody Quinn played with or against. She and Quinn shared many sideways glances with raised eyebrows at just how competitive she was.

The world stopped spinning when Quinn leaned in and whispered directly into her ear, “Still beat you, though.”

As they were leaving, Quinn took her hand again. It was so casual that she wasn’t sure any thought had gone into it at all—and with nobody looking their way, it did nothing to heighten their ruse. She glanced down at their hands, too distracted to even say a proper goodbye as Quinn earnestly told everyone he hoped to see them again soon—that also added to her confusion.

The streets of Vancouver were deeply familiar, etched into her brain from a young age with every slight raise in the concrete committed to muscle memory, so she knew that they were headed towards the water and away from either of their apartments the second Quinn chose a direction. The Sea Wall surrounding the city was her favourite part of it with nothing else even coming close.

“Weird time for a run?” she asked. She wiggled her fingers just to test the pressure. Quinn squeezed back. “I don’t want to go for a run right now.”

“Nobody is going for a run,” he said gently. “I didn’t even want to be going for runs but I saw you on that first day and kept going out just in case I’d see you again.”

She screwed up her face, the disbelief that ran through her had her pulling her hand from Quinn’s and huffing, “Don’t be stupid.”

“How am I being stupid?” There was a tinge of hurt in his voice that she so rarely heard; she felt it right in her chest.

“I don’t know, Q. I just don’t believe you went out of your way to find me. That’s not…” Her voice was muffled by the sound of the water rushing against the Sea Wall. “That doesn’t happen in real life. To me.”

Quinn stared at her, seemingly taking in every inch of her face, and she could only imagine the expression she was making. If she looked as pathetic as she felt, she would need to make sure she never saw him again.

“It’s happening to you.” he stressed. “Today was… Today… I’d like today to be every day.”

She had so many things she wanted to say but no ability to make them come out of her mouth. She felt no less pathetic than she did a moment earlier, though she did feel a little more hopeful. It had been a good day, even if confusing, and she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t been wanting something similar since they first met years prior.

“Why don’t you believe me?”

“Because you’re Quinn Hughes? Because you’re the Captain of the Vancouver Canucks? We’ve just spent the entire day with your ass being kissed—you could have your pick of any woman in Vancouver. We’ve been friends for like, what? Three years now and you’ve never—”

“I am now. I don’t want anybody else. I want you. It’s always been you.”

i would very much love to hear your thoughts if you have any, and would love if you'd reblog and share it with some more people <3

[wordsinhaled]

hi there! I started following you after seeing your essay-long answers to DBD things in tags, and it made me very happy to see someone as deeply analytical as me about this show.

I wanted to ask you: if you were given the final say, how would you want the show to confirm both Charles' bisexuality and his romantic feelings towards Edwin (as both can be done at different points)?

Personally, I can't get the idea out of my head that it will be done with some kind of tragic goodbye, somehow Charles and Edwin have to separate, and Charles either verbally confirms it or kisses Edwin goodbye. Not saying that's what I want, but it's what I expect the writers to do.

Hope you're having a good day.

btw, would love to hear you talk more about timerogue (Fifteen/Rogue), I need more essay-long analysis about those two.

Hi there! <3 I am so happy you have enjoyed my tag rambles! And thank you so much for asking this great question, I had a lot of fun thinking through it!

I have many thoughts on this! Sticking them under a cut eventually because it is a long post!

Re: Charles' bisexuality: So the thing is I think that the DBDA universe generally seems to eschew labels in favor of showing rather than telling the audience what the characters' identities are. For example Jenny is interested in dating women, which is clear from her dialogue, and she goes on a date with Maxine, but she's never labeled anything. Edwin is never labeled anything by anyone in the narrative, either, but the narrative shows us that his only love interests and his desires and romantic feelings are for other boys. I would argue that we have been shown textually that Charles is bi, already, the same way the show shows-not-tells us other things. Charles by the end of the first season feels bi enough to me in a way that just feels like someone... living a bi life, and not yet realizing they might in fact be in love back with their best friend. I don't know how else to put it but I hope that makes sense. (My alternate, slightly sappier version of canon is that Charles fell for Edwin the first night, but has shoved it down for the duration of their friendship, but the former feels more likely as the direction I think we see on screen.) We are being told Charles is bi:

In the way Charles himself draws parallels between why he likes Crystal (his romantic love interest) and Edwin, pointing out they share the exact same traits

In the way he gives Crystal and Edwin the same genre of deep, loving gaze

In the way he thinks Crystal is fit, and he checks Edwin out, on multiple occasions, but only flirts with Edwin overtly in episode 8 ("My smile is pretty convincing," plus more than the usual amount of physical touch/proximity and less plausible deniability) once he can be assured by Edwin's recent confession that doing so will not be poorly received

In the different kinds of softness and masculinity he displays around both Crystal and Edwin

In the way that, despite not knowing the ending, he draws a parallel between himself and Edwin & a pair of lovers from classical mythology as though it is the most natural thing in the world to bring up the story of Orpheus & Eurydice, making overt the romantic potential of his relationship with Edwin

In the way he is so quick to write off that the two jocks were "just best mates" the way a person does when they are recognizing their own queerness in themselves and have to keep themselves safe from it, because of the environment that they are in (Charles being the Sports Lad, needing to fit in with other sports lads, and needing to avoid the censure/violence of his father)

And coming off the above, in the way that Charles navigates along the toughness-sensitivity spectrum within the social constructs of being "the brawn"

In the entire sparring scene in episode 1, tbh. The rituals are very intricate /drops mic

I understand the importance that's been placed by fandom spaces on "confirmed canon" queerness that is spelled out in so many words, given a label that can be pointed to to say "This character is definitely this!" but I think (and this is just my personal opinion) it can be reductive sometimes, and I don't really want Charles to label himself in that kind of way, just as much as I don't think the other characters needed the labels to "confirm" the queerness of their relationships or indeed of the show; having him be the one to do it for being bi would set him apart. I also think taking into account the time period that he grew up in, Charles would care more about living by the truth of how he feels and how he can use those feelings to connect with the one he loves, than what to call it. I just don't think we're gonna get like a "Hello my name is Charles Rowland and I am a verified bisexual"-type scene in season 2, and I think that's okay, and I don't really think that's the way for the show to 'confirm' it. Mind you I would love to see Charles talk about how it makes him feel to realize his feelings, and how his feelings for Edwin are different compared to how other people make him feel, because god, I love Charles so much and I just know such a scene would both destroy and heal me. FEEL YOUR FEELINGS, CHARLES <3

I think it says something really important that many, many, many people took one look at Charles Rowland and said: "Oh, he's bi." Not like... he has bi energy, or could plausibly be bi, or whatever; for so many people he just resonated as being bi, in a very organic way. (I know there are people who do read Charles as being straight/having rejected Edwin in s1, and I respect that, but they probably will not like my ideas about Charles very much, then, tbh.)

For what it's worth, though, Jayden's acting choices playing Charles, and the way Jayden (and George) have addressed the 'straight best friend Charles' line of questioning during interviews, both make it seem to me that Jayden is intentionally playing Charles as bi and we are already supposed to understand this for what it is, based on Charles' actions—just as we understand similar things about other characters inner worlds we are shown. Whether Charles is consciously aware of it yet is more the up-for-debate part to me, personally. It's like he is dancing right on the edge of the revelation, or something, but his actions (and his EYES) are speaking for him pretty loudly already.

As for how he confirms it more obviously? Hmm. Well, I'll admit i think a kiss between them would be lovely, if only because I think it would quite possibly be the Most Kiss a kiss could be, with all of Charles' tenderness and adoration for Edwin poured into it. I also think it would be in-character, given Charles canonically misses kissing, and wants to do it with people he's interested in romantically (see Crystal).

Charles struggles with being able to admit romantic feelings out loud because he is scared of his own capacity to hurt Edwin; after all the only example of "romantic" love he has seen was his parents' marriage. Charles is a person who acts first, thinks later, but in this process of understanding what he feels for Edwin he's taking his time and being the opposite of impulsive. This shows how important his relationship to Edwin is to him and his commitment to Getting It Right. Even with that deliberateness, though, I think it would still be easier for him to express himself through a tangible action like a kiss than through words—at least at first.

It reminds me of this scene from the first draft of Maurice between Maurice and Alec. Alec is struggling to verbalize his feelings for Maurice, although he does know he feels them. He can say other things, but naming love for what it is is the challenge; and in the end they use a shared memory of a time Alec showed his love through actions (running through the rosebushes just to see Maurice's face) to communicate and mutually understand their love for each other. Similarly, Charles finds it difficult to admit a deep romantic love aloud, but his actions speak louder, in his determination to retrieve Edwin from hell ("There's no one else—no one else—I would go to hell for") and he can allude to the romantic implications of the act, by referencing the Orpheus & Eurydice myth. It similarly becomes, I may not be able to say the words, but you and I both know the lengths i would go to for you.

Maurice : "I love you, sir be damned." Alec: "Maurice"—never before had the word been spoken—"you're an angel." Maurice: "I don't want to hear that." Alec: "Maurice, Maurice" his voice failed also; he had once said the rest to a woman. "Maurice - what you've said I feel. Understand?" M: "I think so, but I want to be sure. Remember those rose bushes in the other rain? - Look at me hard - That's right. That'll do. It's settled."

As far as the catalyst for Charles revealing his feelings... a tragic goodbye—gosh, as heartbreakingly compelling as I know seeing George and Jayden act that out would be (I know they would crush it), I really hope the writers don't do that to them! The thing about Payneland that is so refreshing to me is how they manage to subvert trope expectations and break out of the tragic narratives they are placed in, and I think they would ultimately defy any attempt at separation. As Edwin says, "I will make sure that doesn't happen," about them ever being split up. I am rooting for a happily ever after for them, because they have both been through enough, and have fought tooth and nail to stay together.

Steve Yockey has mentioned potentially having Desire of the Endless cameo on the show and I also think having them and Charles interact would be a fascinating way to bring to light some of the deep-rooted stuff Charles struggles with around love (and would nicely parallel Edwin's experience with the Cat King which catalyzed his Charles-feelings realization). I also like the idea of the team maybe meeting a couple during a case who parallel Edwin and Charles and are romantically involved. Seeing that would allow Charles to externalize the way he feels for Edwin by seeing it reflected back to him by other people; sometimes things are easier to pick up on in others than in ourselves. I think that would be a fun way to get him to see what's been there under the surface for some time :)

Oh my god this got so long asfhlgkjhg SORRY

(I'm sure the Doccy Who fixation will come back in time for the Christmas special! :D)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

No Sugar Tonight 2

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Brock Rumlow

Summary: A regular customer becomes more than just a familiar face.

*sorry for misnumbering

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The man catches you by surprise as he appears. You’re busy scraping out the bottom of the toaster as he stands silently at the counter. You smile over at him and call out for him to bear with you for a moment. You’re not sure how you didn’t hear him, even as you tried to chip away at the burnt crumbs. Xander never cleans it. 

“Hi, sir, sorry.” You dry off your hands as you approach. “Black coffee.” 

You punch in his order and he waits patiently to tap his smartwatch on the machine. He doesn’t say a word as you pour him a cup. It’s typical but unsettling nonetheless. 

“Oh, er, I think... I think last time there was a mix-up.” You say as you put his cup on the counter. He ignores you and goes to grab a sleeve and a lid. You follow as you dig around in your apron pocket. “Uh, sir, I think you gave me the wrong tip.” 

You bring the folded bill out of your pocket and hold it out. He doesn’t even look at it. Instead, his dark eyes bore into you. Oh. That’s scary. 

“No. I didn’t.” 

That’s it. He’s already halfway around before you can process his words. His tone hangs in the air and lingers even as the door opens and closes across the atrium. You rescind your arm and open up the bill. 

It’s a lot of money. You could use it but it just feels so wrong. You can’t help but feel indebted. Maybe because you’re used to bending over backwards for each cent. You’ll be smart. Put it away for an emergency. Those always seem to find you at the worst moment. 

Your shift comes to an end as the city skyline softens beneath the amber glow of sunrise. Dayani takes the keys and sends you off. You’re tempted to grab a coffee to go before you leave but you can’t. You need sleep. 

You come out onto the street and take your usual route. You cut behind the corner shop and around the short alleyway. As you come out on the other side, a shadow appears, as if splitting from the brick, and falls into step beside you. 

You stumble and glance over at the stranger. It’s that man. The one who always wears black and orders the same shade of coffee. 

“I don’t make mistakes,” he says. 

You’re too addled to respond. How did he find you? How did he know you’d come this way? 

You stop but only for a moment as he grabs your arm and lurches you forward. You whimper and struggle to keep in stride. His grip is tight and his fingertips jab painfully. 

“Sir? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to--” 

“You shouldn’t take shortcuts,” he reprimands, eyes set ahead of him as he drags you down your usual path. “It’s dangerous.” 

“Oh, ouch, sorry. I—what's happening?” You squeak as confusion muddles your thoughts. 

“Anyone could sneak up on you.” He doesn’t falter. You can hardly keep your feet moving as your adrenaline floods through your veins and narrows your vision. You glance around helplessly but the few bodies on the street don’t spare you a single look. 

“I’m sorry. Again. But—ow. Do you want your money back?” You try to shrug him off as he turns down your street. 

He’s silent as he marches on. He stops you in front of your building and angles you to face it. He keeps a hold of you. 

“Should be in this building. Locks janky. Any asshole can climb the fire escape.” He points along the side. “Or carry in an empty pizza box behind the elderly old lady who’s too helpful for her own good.” 

You wince and hold the air in your chest. “Sir?” 

“Night shift. Alone. That’s third. Stupid,” he snarls. 

“Sir, I—I have roommates and... and there’s cameras.” 

“And assholes wear masks or don’t give a shit,” he growls. 

You whine as he squeezes and you touch his hand. “Ow, please, you’re hurting me.” 

He shifts and looks down at his hand. He gives one last squeeze and releases you. He drops his arm straight and faces you. 

“Lots of men out there would hurt you worse.” 

You shake your head at him. You don’t understand. You’re not stupid. You’ve lived in the city long enough. 

“You leave just before eleven. At least you have the sense to stay in streetlights then. But you keep your head down and don’t look where you’re going,” he rebukes. “You don’t see your own shadow or the second one making sure no one else notices you.” 

You pout and flutter your lashes. The fear slowly rises up from your stomach to your chest until you’re choked dumb. His mouth slants. 

“You should use that money for a can of mace. Maybe a taser.” He squares his shoulders and looks you up and down. “Or maybe I’ll just keep my eye on you.” 

You flounder, lips twitching, and he puts his back to you. He stalks off without another word or another look. You watch him until he’s only a speck in the cityscape. 

What the heck was that? 

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

chapter xxiii – gust & flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.

Word Count: 4,500+

masterlist

“You are being awfully quiet, my dear.” 

Y/N blinked, getting mentally awoken by Leonora’s comment. “Sorry, I just…I don’t think the hand-made gown tailored specifically for me was necessary.”

Leonora looked confused. “And why is that?”

Y/N’s gaze couldn’t lift from the floor as she answered, “I do not think it is wise for me to attend the celebration.” 

All of the servants and seamstresses froze from the statement and subtly looked at their Lady of Autumn for indication of how they should react. 

But Leonora, calm and collected per usual, just gave Y/N a gentle smile. She nodded to the seamstress that was kneeling at Y/N’s foot to continue her work. 

Then she looked up at Y/N without judgment or worry, but with an encouraging smirk and soft eyes. “Why would it not be wise for the mate of our new High Lord to attend his coronation, Y/N?” 

The witch finally looked up from the ground to meet her gaze. “Will it not give the people of his Court the wrong idea? I am not the next Lady of Autumn, nor have I accepted his bond. I do not wish to put Eris in an uncomfortable position.” 

Leonora gave a sad nod. “I see…” she sighed. 

She turned around and gave everyone in the room a soft request to leave the two of them. 

Y/N’s heart started beating faster as she watched them all quietly exit. 

Was Leonora about to scold her? Yell at her for refusing to accept her son as his mate? 

No, that couldn’t be it.

Leonora had been nothing but kind to Y/N since they met. Never once did she pressure her on behalf of Eris. She hardly ever brought up their relationship. Most of the time, Y/N felt like Leonora was just happy to have a new female friend in the Forest House, especially after so long of being a prisoner here. 

Leonora offered Y/N her hand to help her off the platform she was standing on for the seamstresses. Then she held both of her hands gently as she told her, “You forget, Y/N, that you are more to Autumn Court than simply the mate of its new High Lord.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed. 

Leonora smiled. “You are their savior. Yes, it was Eris who slayed Beron in the end. But he would not have had the courage or strength to do so without you. Most in this Court despised and feared Beron Vanserra. You have given this Court a chance for change.”

Y/N’s face grew hot from the praise. 

Leonora gave her a sympathetic look before adding, “But also I cannot say that as Eris’ mother, I do not also have selfish motives, as well. You make him stronger. I worry how he will be if he if he goes through such a coronation alone.” 

“But you and Lucien will be there,” Y/N tried to argue. 

Leonora tilted her head and gave her a look. “It is not the same, and I think you know that, my dear.” 

Then she looked down at the beginnings of the dress on Y/N’s body that the seamstresses had begun.

“As for the dress, Eris wishes to spoil you with finery and I can’t argue with his intentions,” Leonora teased with a smirk. 

But her expression sobered. “However, I know neither he nor anyone else will fault you for avoiding such a celebration. So much has been thrust upon you, and in so little time. You must do what is best for you.” 

Y/N frowned and looked down at herself. “I will let them finish the dress – if only to please everyone. I would feel bad for throwing away all their hard work they’ve already done.”

Leonora nodded. “I think that is a wonderful idea.” 

–🍁–🍁–🍁–

In the following weeks, the Forest House was bustling with activity. 

Apparently, the coronation included inviting every High Lord and Lady of of Prythian. 

Which meant the servants and cooks were frantic with preparations. Lucien had explained to her that the staff saw this as an opportunity to show why Autumn Court should be considered the best of Prythian. With a new High Lord came a new chance to prove that Autumn Court could change for the better and they were not to be overlooked. 

Therefore, Y/N tried to stay out of everyone’s way. She either hid in the library, continuing her personal research or she was in her workshop, keeping herself busy with spells and potions. 

However, on the day of the coronation, she stayed hidden in her bedchambers, scared that leaving would only bring attention to the fact that she would not be attending the festivities. 

Maids and seamstresses had knocked on her door early in the morning. But Y/N simply ignored them, not wanting to see the looks of disappointment when she told them she would not be going to the coronation. 

Y/N tried to distract herself by the fire, sitting on a chaise lounge with a romance novel in hand when more aggressive knocking came at the door. 

She planned on ignoring it again, but then she recognized the group of voices on the other side. 

“Y/N, if you do not open the door, we will break it down!” Nesta threatened loudly. 

She jumped up and hurried to the door to whip it open. 

On the other side, were her three Valkyrie sisters: Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie. 

Not only that, but they clearly dressed and done up for the coronation.

Nesta wore a simple black, velvet dress. But it was not simple in the way that it fit her body like a glove and edged toward risqué. Y/N had always appreciated how Night Court attire never strayed from being seductive and showing skin. Gwyn wore a more elegant black dress, which made Y/N wonder if Nesta was using her mate’s money to buy her friends luxurious gowns. Emerie wore leathers, that could have been a warrior’s uniform, over pants. Though less feminine, they were still formal and lavish in their own way.

When the Illyrian saw Y/N eyeing her outfit, she shrugged. “I was never really one for gowns…”

“You all look beautiful,” Y/N muttered. “B-But w-what are you doing here?” Y/N gasped in shock. 

“We’re here for you, obviously!” Gwyn urged and pulled Y/N into a warm hug. 

“Eris invited us,” Emerie confirmed with a smile, also walking into her rooms. 

“Why aren’t you dressed?” Nesta asked, looking Y/N up and down as she closed the door behind them. 

Y/N frowned. “I…I am not going.” Her eyes stayed down, scared to see their reactions to such a confession. 

But, without hesitation, Gwyn announced, “Then we will stay in here and drink ourselves silly!” 

Y/N’s jaw dropped at how unfazed her friends were. “B-But you will miss the festivities. And you all look so lovely.” 

Nesta rolled her eyes. “This will not be our last opportunity to dress up. We would much rather hang out with you than all the stuffy High Lords and their nobles.” 

Then Emerie nudged Nesta. “But we must still tell her our plan.” 

“Plan?” Y/N questioned, eyes scanning all of them. 

“Helion Spell-Cleaver will be in attendance!” Gwyn squealed. 

Y/N’s brow furrowed, immediately thinking of Leonora and Lucien. She wondered if the Lady of Autumn would ever reveal to her past lover and her youngest son of the secret relation. Or if Leonora would ever follow her heart and return to Helion. 

“Yes, all of the High Lord’s have been invited…” Y/N muttered, not understanding their clear excitement. 

“Helion is the sole owner of the last of the pegasuses,” Emerie explained. 

Nesta rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “And he makes sure to remind everyone of it, using them as his transport to any event he possibly can.” 

Y/N’s amusement dropped for concern. “Please, please, please tell me you do not plan on stealing Helion’s pegasuses.” 

“Don’t be silly,” Gwyn brushed off. “However, we do plan on sneaking into their enclosure to give them some pets.” 

“And perhaps seducing Helion into giving us one or two…” Nesta added while looking at her nails. Y/N gaped at her. “What? He’s already propositioned me to join an orgy once when I visited Day Court.”

“Yes, before you accepted Cassian as your mate!” Emerie pointed out. 

Nesta quirked a brow. “Who said Cassian would not be participating?”

“Those smutty books of yours have given you too many ideas,” Y/N laughed. 

“More like inspiration,” Nesta corrected. “And inspiration that my mate is very enthusiastic about trying.” Then she pointed to the book Y/N had been reading when they arrived and quirked a brow. "Do not pretend you are above them."

“OK. Enough about your bedroom habits!” Gwyn interrupted. Then she turned her attention to Y/N. “Are you in or are you out?” 

The witch smiled. “Of course I’m in.” 

Minutes later, they were sneaking around the Forest House, Y/N led them toward where she assumed any guests horses would be quartered for the night.

But before they could reach it, a gust of wind wrapped around the females. 

“He…needs…you,” The wind whispered to Y/N. “Go…to…him. He cannot…do this…without you.” 

Y/N froze in the hallway. 

“What? What is it?” Emerie asked. 

“I-I’m sorry,” Y/N whispered. “Eris needs me. I will catch up to you later.”

“Oh, for Cauldron’s sake!” Gwyn cried. “As if we would make you go alone.”

“She’s right,” Nesta added. “Someone needs to do your hair and makeup.” 

–🍁–🍁–🍁–

Eris swore his back had a metal pole along his spine with out tense and stiff his posture was. He knew his expressions were cold and unwelcoming. But he was in a room with too many people he had yet to decipher friend or foe. The nobles of Autumn Court smiled at him, but most only wanted good favor with the new High Lord. And for those that weren’t smiling, there were plenty that looked at him with fear or uneasiness, trying to gauge if he was just as bad as Beron. 

His mother kept giving him tense, but encouraging smiles every time he spotted her in the crowded hall. 

When to use his mask and when to reveal his true self, Eris did not know. 

It was easier when Y/N was by his side. She eased him, reminded him of who he truly was. The mask never felt needed when her scent surrounded him. 

But his mate was not here, nor was she coming. 

And Eris couldn’t blame her. These events of politics and groveling were conniving at their best and boring at their worst. If he could skip it too, he would have. But that was no way to officially take over the throne of a broken court that needed mending. 

Eris once again caught sight of a group of courtier daughters. They whispered and giggled at him, hardly even bothering to subdue their staring. And it hadn’t gone unnoticed how they seemed to edge closer and closer as the night went on. 

Yes, Eris was handsome and powerful. Female attention was not something he was unaccustomed to. But he knew what those females were truly after were the wealth and power being married to a High Lord would bring. It didn’t matter that everyone knew of his mortal witch mate. They wanted him for themselves regardless. 

His attire did nothing to help him blend in to the crowd. New, custom armor glinted against the thousands of candles and faelight surrounding them. And the blood red cloak stood out – even in Autumn Court.

Eris threw back the rest of his faerie wine, hoping he could get drunk enough to keep his wits about him, while also making the evening go by faster. 

“Another?” A male voice offered from over his shoulder. 

Eris turned to see Rhysand handing him another full glass, Feyre glued to his side with a knowing smirk. 

“I promise I did not poison it,” Rhysand added.  

“At this point, you would be doing me a favor,” Eris grumbled, taking a sip immediately. 

Rhysand smirked. “Already over being High Lord, Eris?”

“I became High Lord to make my Court a better place, not to rub shoulders with nobles and courtiers who wish to use me to gain favor…”

“And I’m sure being away from Y/N is only making your mood more sour,” Feyre muttered more teasingly. 

“She may do what pleases her. I’m sure her Valkyries have found her by now and are keeping her company.” 

“Are you quite sure about that…” Feyre asked as she looked behind Eris. 

The High Lord of Autumn Court quickly turned to follow her gaze. 

At the entrance of the great hall stood Y/N. 

Eris felt the invisible string attached to his heart go taut. A feeling Y/N had not experienced, and probably never would. 

Despite her entrance not being formally announced, many had gone quiet and began to stare. 

Someone had pulled Y/N’s hair up and done her makeup. Though Eris found her beautiful regardless, the level of glamour around her made her magnetic. 

Meanwhile, Y/N held her head high as she slowly, yet confidently, walked further into the room. She was doing a good job of ignoring the scrutiny, but Eris could tell that she was more than aware of the staring. 

Her dress fit her perfectly. And while most attendees wore green and the rustic browns of the court, Y/N had not strayed away from vibrant red, almost looking as if she were glowing like fire itself. Eris realized it matched with his own cloak. There were strips of black in her gown that felt like a call out to her short time in Night Court, where she had already gained respect and acceptance.

Eris wanted to go to her immediately. But he had to hold himself back. There was a reason she was late and walked in alone, instead of on his arm. It was clear that she worried about making his court believe she had accepted the mating bond. 

But if Eris had his way, he’d use his magic to shove everyone out of the path from Y/N to him. He’d stop any conversation he was having – no matter how rude or undiplomatic it was – to give her his full attention and affection. 

“Will you not go to her?” Feyre asked, concern obvious in her tone. 

Y/N’s friends of the Night Court were unaware of the the change in her relationship with the High Lord of Autumn. They did not realize how far the two had come, how much had changed. Everything was so much more complicated than how it had begun: a male desperately hiding his mate in a court that was not his. 

–🍁–

Y/N felt the eyes on her. She wondered if all of them were judgment or if there was also just innocent curiosity. 

She wished she’d forced the Valkyries to drink heavily with her before leaving her bedchambers, because being sober for this felt like a cruel torture. 

The three of them convinced Y/N that she needed to walk in without them. That she needed to walk in confident and independent.

But Y/N underestimated how many stares she'd receive in return.

So, she decided to straight line to where refreshments were being served. Feyre had once warned her away from fae wine, for it is far too strong for mortals to consume in the same manner as fae.

But right now, Y/N didn’t care. 

Of course she couldn’t make it there without overhearing a group of females. Whether they had noticed her arrival, she had yet to discern. 

“Now that his dreadful father is dead, I wonder where the High Lord will find his…entertainment,” one female said somewhat quietly. 

Another chimed in with, “I once heard he would only bed harlots at pleasure halls in other Courts, in fear that Beron would kill any female who could sire a child from him.” 

“But now he has a mate. Surely that means any and all of our efforts will be wasted,” a third female added. 

“Oh, please.” The first female scoffed. Y/N didn’t have to look at her to know that she was rolling her eyes. “She is not even a fae. Truly, how long do you believe we will have to stay away before her mortal life ends?” 

This is a terrible mistake, Y/N thought. She should have never shown her face here. This was exactly what she had been wanting to avoid. 

Obviously Eris was a desired male – High Lord or not. And who was she to get in the way of him finding a suitor that was of his Court, of his own kind? 

But, suddenly, the females stopped talking abruptly. 

Had they finally noticed Y/N’s presence? Did they even care enough to make sure she didn’t overhear such things? 

“High Lord Eris,” the first one greeted overly sweet. “How lovely of you to join us.” 

Y/N whipped around to find Eris’ eyes already locked to hers as he stood a few feet away from her. 

He ignored the female High Fae entirely, not even glancing in her direction. 

Y/N didn’t know how to address him in such a setting. She looked around before starting to lower her head into a bow. 

You do not bow to anyone, Rhysand’s voice suddenly snuck into her head. 

With her dress and fanciful jewelry, Y/N had removed her protective amulet that stopped any daemati from entering her mind. That meant the High Lord and Lady of Night Court were free to speak to her mind freely.

Ignore them, Rhysand added. He has been waiting for you all night. 

Eris didn’t greet Y/N verbally. Because nothing would’ve felt right. 

But his eyes said everything. 

And slowly he offered her his hand. 

Y/N’s chest heaved as she put her glass down before stepping forward and lightly placing her hand in his grip. 

Without breaking eye contact, Eris lowered his mouth and kissed it. 

Without hesitating, he pulled Y/N to him and tucked her hand under his arm so it gripped his bicep. Then he placed his other hand over it, securing her further to his side. 

Without asking for direction, Y/N quietly followed him as he guided them to the center of the room. 

There was suddenly a female gasp from behind them. Eris didn’t turn, but Y/N looked over her shoulder to see that the first female from the group was covered in red wine. So much so that it was dripping off of her fine gown.

And there was Nesta… holding an empty glass with a smug, but melodramatically innocent look. Gwyn and Emerie were trying to hide their amusement.

"My mistake," Nesta gasped deviously.

Y/N didn’t know when her friends had joined her, but clearly it was early enough that they had caught the dreadful things those females had been saying about her and her mate with their fae hearing. 

Then there was a screech of fear and a soft growl. 

She looked down to see that her new little pet fox, Ronan, was nipping and growling at the group of rude females. How he escaped from her bedchambers was beyond her. But clearly he didn’t like being away from her. 

Y/N bit her lip to stop herself from laughing at the sight. 

Then she whistled softly and Ronan’s head snapped in her direction. He didn’t need another command, so he floppily ran to her and Eris, trotting along beside them. 

When she turned forward again, Y/N realized Eris was leading them to the throne. 

And with the wave of his hand, Eris pushed his throne over a foot and a second one appeared magically beside it. 

Y/N’s head whipped to him, wanting to ask him what in the Cauldron he was doing. 

But then she realized he was making a statement. There were some who would question her and her relationship with their new High Lord. But Eris was announcing to everyone that she was to be treated and respected as their High Lady, whether she accepted his bond or not. 

“Eris,” she whispered in a hiss. 

Her anxiety was skyrocketing at the statement he was about to make. 

But he ignored her subtle plea, and instead just said, “Head high, little witch.” 

He guided her carefully up the steps that led to the throne and waited for her to sit before he took his own. 

The room quieted and turned their attention to Eris. 

Y/N controlled her expressions, but her heart was racing from confusion of what she was meant to do. 

They will crown him now, Rhysand’s voice entered Y/N’s mind again. He wants you at his side, therefore you belong there. Act like you know it. 

Y/N found both Rhysand and Feyre in the crowd, which was fairly easy since they were the only people wearing black in a sea of mostly Autumn Colors – except for the other High Lords that were in attendance. 

The couple gave her encouraging grins. Then she found Cassian, Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie standing next to them, doing the same. 

Cassian gave her a proud and beaming smile. 

Y/N listened as one of Eris’ advisors started speaking the ritual of crowning the newest High Lord. 

It was shorter than she expected. Though she struggled with paying attention, too focused on maintaining her posture and composure while being put on the same display as Eris. 

Then the advisor was standing behind Eris, slowly lowering a rustic golden crown atop his head. It was in the shape of fallen leaves, with subtle hints of autumn red and green in the detailing. 

As soon as it settled on his head, Eris turned to Y/N with his hand outstretched to her. 

Without hesitation, she took it.

Together they stood. 

The room immediately lowered into a bow – except for the other High Lords, who only subtly bowed their head in respect. 

Y/N found Leonora’s gaze amongst them and she had a proud smile on her lips, but it was not only directed at her son. 

Eris helped Y/N sit once again. 

People started moving closer toward the throne. 

Y/N realized the courtiers and lords were swearing their allegiance now. 

A male high fae stepped forward first, bowing his strawberry blonde head deeply. 

“Lord Foley,” Eris greeted indifferently. 

The male bowed his head again and then turned his gaze to Y/N, opening his mouth to formally introduce himself to her. 

“You are Eoghan Foley?” Y/N asked him before he could speak. 

The males eyes widened in surprise. 

“You own the majority of farms in the south east territory, correct?”

The male looked even more surprised. 

Eris smirked at his mate, deciding to let her speak while he watched. 

“You are known for paying your farmers the most, even when Beron underpaid you in an attempt to raise competition amongst other lords.” 

Eoghan bowed his head. “My workers deserve a fair wage, Lady Y/N. When treated with respect they are more inclined to stay and there is less loss.” 

Y/N then turned to Eris, having a silent conversation with their eyes. 

“And for that, you shall be rewarded,” Eris’ voice came out strong and confident. And the entire room could clearly hear it. His gaze moved about the room. “The days of exploitation are over. Those of Autumn Court deserve to be paid for their work. Such competition only turns us against each other.” His eyes moved back to the lord. “A bonus will be delivered to you before nightfall tomorrow, Lord Foley.” 

The male looked taken aback at such a decision. He half-expected to find that Eris was no better than his tyrant father. But he was instantly proven wrong. 

“T-Thank you High Lord Eris,” he said with another bow. Then he looked up at Y/N before turning his gaze to the floor. “And to you, Lady Y/N. Our people are already indebted to you for bringing Autumn Court back into the light.”

“I hear your wife is a talented sculptor, Lord Foley.” Y/N noted with kindness in her eyes. “I hope to see her work for myself someday.” 

“Any time you wish, Lady Y/N.” 

“Enough business and politics for tonight,” Eris announced once Lord Foley had moved back into the crowd. 

Then he eyed the other High Lords who were in attendance. All of them had been studying him and his interactions carefully. “Otherwise, we shall be spilling Autumn’s secrets to our guests who have their own Courts to govern.” 

His courtiers laughed lightly at his joke. 

With the swipe of Eris’ hand, the lighting in the room darkened to a moodier setting. And the symphony took their signal to begin playing music. 

The guests started coupling up to dance. 

Once again, Eris stood and offered Y/N his hand. 

She took it, but moved close to his side so she could whisper, “I do not know these formal dances.” 

Eris squeezed her hand tightly. “Trust me,” he simply whispered back.

When they entered the center of the dance floor, Eris pulled them into the proper stance. “I will lead. Just relax and do not overthink it.” 

And Y/N did just that. 

Either the steps were not as complicated as she had presumed or Eris was good dance partner. But they swayed across the floor. And despite hundreds of eyes watching them, the room disappeared around them, and it was just them. 

“Thank you for saving me,” Eris whispered in her ear as he pulled her even closer. 

Y/N knew this closeness was more immoral and informal, but she needed it. And if it was improper, Eris didn’t seem to care one bit. 

“I hardly did anything,” Y/N admitted softly. 

“You did more than you could ever understand,” he countered quickly. “You continue to be my savior, Y/N.”

“I didn’t want you to be alone,” Y/N confessed softly. Her lips quirked as she added, “The worst loneliness is felt while surrounded by others.” Repeating her past statement from the night he had confessed how lonely he'd once been in this court.

Eris stopped abruptly, pulling their dance to a halt.

His eyes slowly went from her eyes to her lips. 

Y/N knew he wanted to kiss her. She could feel it. And she would be lying to herself if she said she didn’t want him to, as well.

Eris was calculating how safe it was to show such affection to his mate so publicly. Another voice in his head was telling him he should to whatever he damn well pleased. 

A deep voice cleared their throat behind her. 

They turned to see Cassian standing with his hands clasped behind his back. 

He gave a polite bow to them. “I was hoping to share a dance with my favorite witch.” 

Y/N smiled at his playfulness. But she also saw the hidden message in his gaze. Her friend was trying to save her if she so wanted it. 

She turned back to Eris, half expecting him to be giving the Illyrian a death glare. But the High Lord only nodded, and slowly removed Y/N from his grasp. 

“She has much to share with her friends,” Eris offered him.

“Shall we?” Cassian asked her with his hand offered. 

The Illyrian's dancing just further proved how skilled Eris was. But Y/N didn't mind Cassian's clumsy feet.

“I am the only witch you know,” she glared playfully at him. 

“Yes, but if I were to ever meet any more, you would still be my favorite.” He spun her sloppily, ignoring the steps everyone else was following. 

He lowered his voice as he said, “I only wanted to offer you an escape. It seems tensions are high between the two of you…” 

“Thank you,” Y/N told him with a frown. “I fear I am lost.” 

His brow furrowed as he turned them. “How so?” 

Her eyes surprisingly welled with tears. “Cassian…I-I-I love him.”

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

I know it took me a long time to update. But I worked really hard on this. And I loved putting together everyone's outfits. 🥹

Please leave a lovely comment. You know I love a book report. @pancakefancake

[shoyoist]

𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍 & 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 : hinata shoyo.

hinata shoyo is dazzling. no matter where he goes, no matter who he's with — he always shines the brightest. he's so warm, so radiant — a star, a sun. pulling everyone around him into orbit. and you love it. adore it.

but it's also because he's so full of that fiery heat and light, that you sometimes find yourself doubting what you have with him. it's nothing he did — he's perfect, and always has been, to you — but rather, it was your own insecurities that formed out of realizing just how different you were from him.

he's outgoing no matter who he's talking to, easily blending in while still somehow standing out, and people love him — you know more than a few others that seem to adore him the same way you do.

and you, being someone of the peaceful, subdued twilight between day and night — have no idea how you ended up with someone like him.

and even more so, you have no idea how he fell for someone like you.

because he — he sparkled, and he shone, and he was everything anyone could ever want, he could have won the heart of anyone he ever wanted. he could simply ask for a heart and he’d have it handed to him on a silver platter.

and you? you don’t shine or glow. in fact, you’re a little dim, if we’re going to talk about metaphors of light. and despite how incredibly happy you are together, it sometimes gets to you.

"hey," shoyo calls you, snapping you out of your thoughts.

you look up at him, still surfacing from all your musings, tracing your gaze over his muscled form, his hair and eyes that stand out so bright, tangerine and honey against his sun-bronzed skin. he tugs at the hem of his plain white tee, patting the pockets of his navy shorts to check for his phone and wallet.

it's barely an hour since the sun rose, and you think hinata is so much brighter than the light coming through the doors and windows.

he's about to leave for another practise match, and you're seated in your shared living room, morning coffee unfinished on the table in front of you.

he’s beautiful, you think. bathed in the morning sun, there he stands at your front door. japan's pride and joy, ninja shoyo. him, falling in love with you?

he'd told you that his people back home had cried bitterly over their loss when he left, deciding to return to brazil and play for a brazillian team rather than stay with his people in japan.

he'd told you with a mischievious glint in his eyes and a rogueish smile spread across his face, and the slightest hint of a blush tinting his cheeks. "but hey, they’ll get over it! and … i came back partly so i can be with you, you know. together, like this."

and that had melted your heart. just those words had brought you home the stars and the entire sky — but you also sometimes wonder. if he stayed there, would he be happier? would he be happier if he had chosen those other things over you?

if he were with someone else?

after all, you weren't anyone special, and he wouldn't be getting anything particularly worthy from you — apart from all your love and adoration, but whether that was worthy or not wasn't for you to decide. was it?

"hey, hey?" shoyo repeats, and you blink, standing up. you walk over to him, plucking a strand of curly orange hair off his shoulder and patting the creases away from his chest. "sorry, i was just thinking."

"hm," he tilts his head to a side, picking up his sports bag and pulling it over his shoulder as he does. you know he's not convinced.

the clock ticks past 7:30 AM, and you're glad you don't have any places to be today. you're tired, and you wouldn't be able to see shoyo off like this if you were rushing around getting ready to go out.

shoyo watches you for a few seconds, brows furrowed together ever so slightly. "you okay, baby? looking a little tired. wanna come to the beach with me?"

you smile, noticing how his portuguese was still on the simpler side — and shrug your shoulders as an answer. "that'll just distract you." you tell him in japanese.

lies. nothing can distract shoyo when he's in a game.

all that'll happen is that you'll get to see him in action, eyes somehow glowing brighter than before, sun turning his skin rosy, hair getting peppered with sand as he flies up, kicking his legs back and slamming the ball across the net. an enthralling sight. and then—

"i'll give you a kiss for every point i score." he grins, taking your hand — and all of a sudden, everything you've just been thinking about stops making sense.

"mhm?" you nod, and he licks his lips, thinking. "a kiss for every point, and if my team wins — i'll take you out to eat something good. come, it'll be good for you."

"and if you lose?" you ask, and he only grins wider. "i won't. trust me."

trust you? with my life, shoyo. with my everything. the things you've been thinking about stops making sense — because hinata shoyo is dazzling. he shines bright, he's radiant and he's like the sun. and in that same sense, his passions and desires and his love — they shine, too. it's clear that he adores you as much as you adore him.

with that mutual adoration present and so tangible even to you, though you sometimes feel as if you don’t deserve it, what more was needed?

"shoyo," you still ask, because hearing it from him makes it all better. "you love me, right?"

he looks confused for a second. "yeah? i love you. i love you more than anything."

and again, he plucks out the jewels of the sky and hands them all down to you in one fell swoop, with his words that glimmer and drip with the radiant sincerity of his feelings. "huh, is this what you're thinking about? it's in your eyes, i can see it."

"what do you see?" you ask, but then you forget everything because he's gripping your hand tighter and pulling you closer, for a kiss.

"i love you, mkay? we're together. forever. you know i wanna be with you forever." he says it against your lips, and you almost taste the essence of his words. "i love you, and i'm glad to be with you."

you almost tear up, he's so sweet and so sincere, how could you ever doubt him? 

how he understands what you're thinking so easily, how he says exactly what you want to hear without trying, you don't know — but you appreciate it, and you offer him a smile in return to the way he makes you feel so good, so light, inside. "i love you, too. i love you with all my heart."

"then let's go?" he steps back a little to look at you, bright orange curls framing warm, puppy eyes as he gives you a pout. “please? i wan’ you to come today.” you glance out to the street waiting outside your shared house, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, and you nod. "give me a minute, i'll go change."

he gives you a grin that could harness all the power of the sun in it, letting go of you so you can go pull some better clothes on — and you catch his hand before it can fall to his side.

he turns back to you, inquiring, and you answer with a tug at his arm that lets him draw close enough for you to give him a little kiss on the cheek. "i really do love you."

and the blush that spreads across his face as you turn around and retreat to your room, is more proof that he loves you.

hinata shoyo is dazzling. he's the sun, he's the stars, he's the galaxy, and he's everything anyone could ever want. and he loves you.

loves you the way the sun carresses the moon, the way the rays of it kiss the shadows of the twilight at dawn and at dusk.

he's the pride and joy of japan, everyone loves him and he could have anything he had passion for, and anything he desired. and to him, that was to be a player of the sport that brewed and set alight his passions.

and to him, what he desired was you.

note: i was going to say it's crazy that i haven't posted much sfw shoyo content on here, but then i remembered that every time i write something like this about him it gets sooo personal 💔 this is a piece i wrote in 2021 but it comes out now because i say so ! thank you for reading !!

[iloveundertaesooomuch]

Some advice from AU Calebs!

Heck yeah I did it! Finally i finished ONE of the HUNDREDS AU crossover ideas I have in my head!! Crossovers are fun guys!! (I apologise for a bad english in advance. Writing this it a rush.)

"It's ok to ask for help." (A Reverse Of Feathers And Mud by @jess-the-vampire)

I couldn't make a crossover meme without the legend. Sorry, not sorry. He is such a sad lad but tries to stay positive and be happy for his family uydfykudsutsudskudsluds (*dies*). I have to admitt, Caleb's dad energy is too strong for me to handle without wanting a hug him. No wonder! He was THE grandpa for centuries straight without a break. At least Caleb gets his whole family together in the end. Comics with him and either Hunter and Philip or Luz and Eda make me run in cirles around the room aaaa.

"You are not a burden." (Brother's Keeper by @idoodlestuffsometimes)

Damn, you definetly created one of the darkest AU in the fandom. Each time I re-read AU related posts I scream my lungs out because it is so angsty and so great. I am genuinely scared of your Belos ngl, because.. this man didnt loose anything and he still proceeds to do all that stuff. Enconter with him has 0 survival rate.

POOR CALEB! At least in the world of memes he had an opportunity to flee the captivity twice (the bald head and the car). This man had no moment of mental rest for centuries oh my God. One of my friends wants to fight his brother personally to protec Caleb at all cost sksksk. Well, at least Hunter will always have an actually loving relative! And if the happy ending is going to be canon, I think the future looks great, especially knowing how much pain all your characters go through currently. (And I think both Caleb and Hunter would need the "you are not a burdain" affirmations. At least some form of support in their situation.)

You said in the latest ask-answer that BK!Caleb was supposed to have white streaks in his hair so I attempted to add them. Hope they look fine! Colors for the outfit I got from Belos, so they would match, I guess???

"Murder is okay." (Loose Strings by @oldmanpip)

My bro, brother, friend... Despite you being not to involved on the discord server, my brain is still rotting with your great awesome AUs. And I know you know that. Your Caleb is really loose in all sences of that word and I love that. Wonder if your AUs will ever be available to the public. Because oh boy oh boy they deserve to be recognised. (Loose Caleb is such a conservative grandpa who never did anything wrong, wdym?)

"Your feelings matter." (Pip In Time by @celestialscribbler)

Honestly? Man, your comic is the reason I got invested in Witteclaw couple at all. Even if the "Pip in time" is not their story, but you wrote their teen romance so sweetly. Those two melted my heart... I scream each time I re-read your comic for 100th time. Just WOAH my brain goes brrr! And Caleb as a character is also written really really well. I love him so much. He is such good brother but MAN HE NEEDS A BREAK FROM BEING AN ADULT! BOY! Insirt crying and heart emojis here.

(PS: hope you still care about your health!)

My thoughts:

I have been drawing this for more than a month I think? And the only reason for that is my university. I hope to actually get an ADHD diagnosis because something is clearly wrong with me. But thats not the point.

There are so many ideas in my head. Goofy and not. The only problem is that I have less and less ability to do what I want lately. I wish I could bring them all to life, but at the same I dont know if anyone will be interested. Would AU crossovers look too self-indulgent? Or nah? Idk. (Just Grimwalker-Isle already has so much potential for stupid ridiculous fun I am runnin on coffee juice.)

Litteraly my mind is plagued with different fun plots and possibilities I am going crazy. But I also have A TON of WIPs that I need to finish. Perhaps I will attempt to manage everything at once, but, no promises.

Wish me luck on my exams!

[charlotte-of-wales]

A speech by The Duchess of Edinburgh at the Community Sport and Recreation Awards, at Headingley Stadium, Leeds, ahead of The Duke of Edinburgh’s 60th birthday:

First may I say how wonderful it is to be here with so many people who are doing so much to change lives through grassroots sport. There have been some remarkable stories that have been honoured today and a particular congratulations to Fulham Reach Boat Club for being recognised as Community Club of the Year.

If I may, I beg your indulgence for a few minutes, as I wanted to also take this opportunity to recognise another great milestone and share a small tribute to my darling husband as he celebrates his 60th Birthday, this Sunday.

Now I know from the many years of marriage we have chalked up, 25 years in June to be precise, he will be horrified at seeing me up here speaking about him in public. Without looking at him, I am guessing he will now be sitting back with slightly narrowed eyes, possibly with his arms folded, or one arm stretched out across the table and to all intents and purposes looking identical to his father when I made speeches about him.

I twice spoke about The late Duke of Edinburgh in his presence, on both occasions feeling like I was about to launch myself out of an airplane without a parachute, but holding on to the vague hope of a soft landing. You have to appreciate that my father-in-law never liked anyone to pay him compliments, believing that it was the organisations he supported that were important, not him.

However, the fact that I wasn't in the doghouse after either of the speeches reassured me that I hadn't at least committed any major faux pas and I was therefore able to stand the getaway cars down.

So, like then and with my husband of the same opinion as my father-in-law, and with fresh fully fuelled cars at the ready here goes – as I give you more of an insight of the man to whom I am so proud to be married.

Edward is probably best known for his support of the youth organisation the DofE, founded by his father which takes much of his time as he chairs committees, writes strategies as he helps to guide and shape the current activities and future of the charity in the UK and across the world. He challenges those who lead it, encourages others who work within it or support it, and loves meeting and chatting with those who benefit from it. You can only guess the number of hours he devotes to this, the most inspiring of youth charities.

Beyond the DofE, he passionately supports an array of other charities and organisations, each of which he takes as seriously. Whether it be focussing on the sporting endeavours from athletes around the Commonwealth both able and disabled; encouraging organisations offering opportunities for people to gain access to sport and activities such as the fantastic work of the Sport and Recreation Alliance, which we are celebrating today; working throughout the arts with young talented musicians, or seasoned professionals who enrich our society, or visiting and encouraging the wonderful Central Caribbean Marine Institute which does so much to protect and enhance our unseen and vital underwater world. The list is long and a reflection of just some of his interests.

I encourage you to take a walk through his CV of affiliations and marvel at the breadth of them, each doing their part to make our world a better place and to understand that he is not just a name on a piece of paper, but that he commits of himself to them all and cares deeply for each of them.

He takes undoubted pride in his military affiliations too. Not only do I think that he wears a uniform extremely well, he takes an enormous interest in their vital work and loves nothing better than to go offline and spend happy hours talking one-to-one with those who do so much to serve our country.

He has been my guide and shown me the way over the years. He has given me much help and advice (not always taken I admit), and his knowledge and instincts that have been honed over decades of service are invaluable - so we share speech notes (not this one, sorry darling!), chat through issues our patronages may be tackling, and together I think we make quite a good team.

Like an iceberg, what is seen above the water or in public is only a small proportion of what goes on behind the scenes. What is never seen or can ever be quantified is the effort spent on ensuring good governance for his patronages, encouraging people to support worthwhile causes, chairing committees, meeting chief executives and think tanks, writing papers, speeches, forewords, introductions, the list goes on.

But whatever he is doing he gives 150% of himself, and if all else fails he gives any energy he has left out to our exhausted dogs or laying waste to the garden. Like my father-in-law, my husband never seeks compliments for himself. So when acknowledgment has come his way it has always been a total surprise to him, which is why I am grateful for this chance to, for once, be able to publicly celebrate and compliment him.

He was so happy and humbled when Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth made him a Knight of The Garter in 2006 and was equally delighted and moved the day His Majesty The King – who we are both incredibly proud to support – made him Duke of Edinburgh. Both he deserves in equal measure and I am so proud of the man he is.

He is the best of fathers, the most loving of husbands and still is my best friend.

So here's to you my darling Edward and may I along with all your family and so many friends and many others wish you the Happiest of Birthdays!

[masked-men-fantasy]

Anniversary (Call of Duty)

It has been a year since you and him have been together, and he has a surprise just for you. 

Jackal

You know that Jackal is a busy man. You know that he is the head of the mercenary group. He has a lot of business to take care of. So, you tried to not get your hopes up. You are his partner, and being another important part of his life means you have to understand him as well.

It was almost 11 at night, and you were about to go to bed since you realized that he was not back from his mission yet.

Then you heard a sound from the front door. Who would come around this time? Is it a burglar?

Not so long after you arm yourself with a pan you found in the kitchen,  you see the door open.

Jackal in the same old mask. He held a flower bouquet. But then you realized that there was something off. His cape and left arm are covered in blood.

"Are you hurt!?" you asked panickily, rushing to him.

"Don't worry, enemy blood," Jackal replied. "I am so hurrying to find this flower that I forgot to take a shower."

You sigh with relief; at least he is not hurt, and that is all that matters.

"I am not a romantic person. So, I don't know what people do when it comes to an anniversary. But I hope this represents how much you mean to me." Jackal handed you a flower. His eyes are so much different when compared to when he talks to his colleagues. Eyes that show affection and vulnerability.

"This is more than enough." You kiss him through his metal mask.

Once both you and Jackal walk back home, you and him have a conversation about how his mission went, whether he has had anything yet, whether he should clean himself up, and so on. Just like a typical day after he is back from a tiring day of work.

But to make it a bit more special, you place flowers in a vase on the table and open the radio with the song "That's Life" by Frank Sinatra playing.

You held Jackal's hands and guided him on a slow dance. Both of you shared body warmth and each other's homely scent throughout the entire song.

Mace

"Let's get some McDonalds," he suddenly said in the evening after you and him finished training.

You think that he might forget the anniversary. Well, I can't say you are disappointed. It's just Mace being Mace, after all.

However, it is different this time. Instead of dining in, he took a drive-through. Once he gets the packages of burgers, fries, and coke, he then goes a different way; that is not a way home.

"Where are we going?" You frowned.

Mace did not answer, even though you asked him multiple times, so you did not ask any further. Just cross your arms and wait until the answer is revealed.

He drove almost 100 miles from the base, went through the woods, and went up a hill  before parking a truck at the hill when it was about a night.

You were about to complain about where the hell he took you, and then you saw the sky full of stars. So bright and so beautiful that you almost think there are only you and Mace left in this universe.

Mace opens the trunk of the truck and calls you to take a seat by shaking a bag of fries.

"Not a bad idea of an anniversary date, right?" He smiles.

You don't know why, but his smile is brighter than all the stars you just saw. Bright enough that it's warming your heart.

Ghost

You will wake up with a full English breakfast and a sweet cup of tea on your bed.

"Happy anniversary, love," Simon kissed your forehead.

You and Ghost will have breakfast together, have a small talk, and have a good laugh and smile that Simon never shows to anyone.

After that sweet breakfast, Simon will take you to the nearby park. Enjoying a sightseeing walk and bird feeding, probably with some boat rides in a small pond.

In the afternoon, he will take you for a motorcycle ride around the town. Feel the breeze as the wind goes through; feel his strong, muscular back while you sit.

As for the evening, he will bring you back home and prepare dinner for you. He will not allow you to help him; just let you watch him make a steak and some mashed potatoes. He wants it to be a special day for you, so he will do everything just for you.

You and Simon will enjoy dinner with a glass of wine together. And if you feel like you want to spend some more time with him, a movie night of your choice is also available as well.

Overall, 10/10 husband material. Would marry him over and over again.

Nikto

"Come with me, Дорогой (darling)." Nikto suddenly said that in the middle of a sparring session with you. But it is quite concerning. It is rare that Nikto uses a word like darling. He mostly just called your name or some degrading name in the bedroom.

You and him walk to the meeting room with rookies and some Kortac members. Suddenly, he held your hand and announced it out loud.

"This one is my future wife. If I see anyone flirting with what's mine, I will take care of that personally." Nikto said it loudly in a heavy Russian accent.

Not only was everyone in the room shocked, but you also gasped at what he just said.

"Happy Anniversary." Nikto said. His eyes were drawn to you. "I tried my best to make a surprise."

You believe his sense of understanding what makes a good surprise is broken. You cannot either tell if he is so sweet to make this relationship clear or if it's just his sense of understanding what makes a good surprise completely broken.

[spoilmesweetieforficssake]

Hiii

I have to say that I love your work. I was reading your last story where Mel gets overprotective with the pregnant reader and I have a idea.

The reader is just in fact pregnant, will be a solo parent and is so in love with Mel and thinks Mel could never love them back.

Can you make it with a happy ending, please? Thank you so so much!

You love my work? *Grins like an idiot* Positive comments like that make for a very happy writer!

I'll be honest, your prompt hasn’t been the easiest thing in the world to write (which isn't to say I haven't enjoyed it - I have!) and I hold my hands up now and admit I that what I know about pregnancy comes from Grey’s and Holby, hence, things might feel a bit detached from reality and out of sync with a ‘normal’ pregnancy timeline.  But hey, I’m no doctor, I’m just some little lesbian who dabbles about with word documents in her spare time so I hope you enjoy where this goes!

(Also, I know this request came off the back of another pregnant reader prompt.  In my head this became a different story altogether.  I do, however, have a plan to carry on the other fic with a few little one shots in the same verse.)

~*~

“Fuck!  Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!” you groan as you pace in the tiny bathroom.  You jump at a sudden knock on the door.

“You all right in there?” 

A voice you’d recognise anywhere.  Melissa.  “Just peachy!” you call back, trying to sound as cheerful as you can muster in the midst of your breakdown.

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s how my day’s going when I say fuck fifty times too!” she drawls.  “You’re a worse liar than Janine!  Come on, open up.”

You can’t face her right now.  You can’t face anyone right now.  “I’m fine, honest,” you protest.  “I just…need a minute?”

“You sure?” comes the red head’s voice, soft and full of concern.  It makes you want to cry even more than you already do.  As much as Melissa puts up a tough façade, once she lets you in, you’re in.  You need to hide a body, she brings the shovel.  You need to make someone into a body, she brings the bat to make it happen. 

“Yeah,” you sigh, leaning your head against the wall.  You hear her footsteps as she retreats.  You take a minute.  Many minutes, in fact, before finally turning to the mirror and making sure you look presentable.  Taking a final deep breath, you push the door open, only to halt as you see Melissa leaning against the wall opposite, scrolling through her phone.

“You look just peachy,” she comments, eyebrow raised as she pushes away from the wall.  “Come on.  I’m not that scary.  You can tell me.”

“Are you kidding?” you hiss.  “You’re terrifying!”

She merely rolls her eyes.  “Yeah, only when I’m not on your side and…well…you know, I’m on your side.”

You tear up a bit at that.  Fucking hormones, you think to yourself.  You’re still note quite sure what you did that landed you lucky enough to be friends with her.  Sometimes, you wish you weren’t.  It would be so much easier to be in love with her if she wasn’t nice to you.  

Stepping back into the bathroom, you jerk your head, indicating for her to follow.

“You know I don’t normally sneak off into the bathroom with pretty girls, right?” she smirks.  “Especially at work with all those innocent little minds around.”

You could almost wish she was flirting, if you weren’t holding a fucking grenade tucked behind your back.  You’ve fucked this up big style.

“Seriously, what’s up?” she asks after a moment when you don’t say anything.

You pull the pregnancy test out of your pocket.

“Fuck,” she breathes.

“Yeah,” you sigh, sitting on the close lid of the toilet.  “Fuck.”

“I…didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”

You don’t look up, not wanting to chance seeing disapproval on her face. 

“I’m not,” you admit.  “It was the last time I went home,” you mumble.  “One stupid night with an old ex.”

The tears that have been gathering in your eyes start to fall as you feel a gentle hand on your shoulder, rubbing soothingly. 

“What the hell am I meant to do now?”

*

You hear your phone chime and subtly slip it from your pocket.  You’d tried to call your ex, resorted to a voicemail and when that got no response you’d finally messaged him.  That had been four days ago. 

Seeing his name on the screen, you quickly open the message, only for your face to fall.  You knew it would come as a surprise to him.  Hell, it had to you too.  But you hadn’t expected him to be quite so brutal in his reply.  You read the words again, not quite able to comprehend why he’s being so cruel. 

Shoving the device back in your pocket you take a deep breath, willing the tears not to spill from your eyes.  The last thing you need is for the kids to see you cry and ask you what’s wrong.

Instead, what you find is Barb crossing the lunch hall, quietly asking if you can give her a hand with something.  You nod dumbly, letting her lead you out into the hallway.  She remains in the doorway where she’s able to still keep an eye on the kids. 

“Is everything okay?”

You quickly wipe at your eyes.  “Just a message from my ex,” you sniffle, looking up at her.  By the blank look on her face you realise those words mean nothing to her.  She doesn’t know.  You thought for sure with how close she is with Melissa the red head would have told her, but it would appear that’s not the case.  “I’d messaged with some news and he didn’t take it well,” you go on, keeping your words deliberately vague, not quite sure Barb would approve.

She puts a gentle hand on your arm.  “Why don’t you go and take a moment, I can handle things here.”

Nodding, you thank her before slinking off to the bathroom.  Inside, you close the lid of the toilet and sit with your head in your hands.  It’s starting to feel like an all to familiar position. 

*

“What did that asshole say?”

You look up from the worksheets on your desk as Melissa marches into your classroom. 

“Barb said you got all upset at lunch duty after a message from your ex?”

You sigh.  “I always knew he was a bit of a dick, but I didn’t expect this…”  Reaching for your phone, you open the message and hold it out to her.  You really don’t want to read it again.

“Where do I find this guy?” she growls, slamming your phone down on the desk. 

“You don’t!” you warn.  You’ve seen her temper.  Your ex wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Seriously?  You’re gonna let him say things like that to you?” she asks, stabbing a finger at your phone. 

“He didn’t ask for this!” you hiss.

“Neither did you!” she’s quick to remind you. 

You let out a long breath, sitting with your head in your hands.  When you finally look up again, she hasn’t moved.  “You didn’t tell Barb.”

She frowns, confused at the abrupt subject change.  “What?”

“At lunch duty today, she took me aside because I was upset, but she didn’t know why,” you say.  “You didn’t tell her.”

“You trusted me enough to tell me,” she says softly, moving around your desk until she can perch on the edge of it close to you.  “I wasn’t about to break that trust and tell anybody.  You might wanna think about telling her though if you want someone else on your side.”

“But...”

“But what?” she asks.

“What if she doesn’t approve?  It’s not exactly an ideal situation,” you mumble.

She smiles softly down at you, her hand finding your shoulder.  “Oh hon, Barb has her morals, but she knows the world ain’t perfect.  You tell her you’re about to pop a kid she’ll have your back.  Believe me, she knows pregnancy ain’t no picnic.”

“I could make this all go away,” you say in a whisper, hanging your head.

“If you were seriously thinking that you’d have done it already,” comes the red head’s softly spoken words a few moments later. 

You look up, tears in your eyes.  You know she’s right.  “I’m gonna be a single mom.”

Melissa pulls you into her side, her arm settling more firmly around your shoulder, letting you bury your face into her sweater.  “You’ve been here long enough to know we’re a family here at Abbott, right?”

*~*

“Try this,” says Melissa, holding out a Tupperware tub in your direction.

You turn away.  You want to at least be polite, but at this stage your morning sickness is all round the clock sickness and everything and nothing seems capable of setting it off.

She doesn’t move.  “Seriously, Barb could barely eat a thing with Taylor, but she could eat this.”

*

“I still haven’t vomited!”  Not exactly what you meant to say when you arrived in her classroom door after the school bell, but the words are out before you can stop them.  You’re embarrassed to find tears in your eyes.  “Shit!” you hiss, wiping them away quickly.  “I was never someone who cried, now I’m crying at everything.”

Melissa just chuckles.  “I’m gonna take it as a compliment.  You want me to make you some more?”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” you say, even as your mouth waters at the thought of it. 

“You’re eating for two and it’s apparently the only thing you can eat.  I’m making more,” she tells you, her tone not allowing for argument. 

“Thank you.”  You manage the words you had meant to say when you arrived in her classroom. 

*

You come out after your first scan, grainy picture in hand and sink onto the first bench you find.  Yes, you knew you were pregnant, but you’ve just heard the heartbeat of the tiny life growing inside you.  You literally have a picture in your hand as proof of the tiny human you’ve created.  It makes it feel so much more real. 

You’re aware of someone sitting next to you, but your eyes remain on the picture in your hand.  It’s not until you feel another presence sit on the bench on your other side that you look up to find Melissa and Barbara sat on either side of you.

“You okay?” asks the red head.  “You were outta that school like a man on the run when the bell went.”

“I’m having a baby,” is all you say, your voice shaky.  “I mean, I knew it was but…this makes it feel so much more real.”  You wave the picture in your hand, not protesting as Melissa slips an arm around your shoulders and pulls you to her.

Barb takes the picture from your shaking hand.  “Real and scary, right?”

You nod. 

“But amazing too,” smiles the kindergarten teacher.  “This little life inside you is a miracle and as terrifying as it seems right now, I promise you it won’t feel that way.  You’ll see.”

You manage a watery smile.

“Now,” says Melissa.  “How about we go have a virgin cocktail to celebrate that little miracle?”  She takes the print out from her friend’s hand.  “And someone can explain to me which end of this jelly bean is which?”

*

You knew it would happen sooner or later, but it comes as a shock the first time it happens.  You jump, eyes growing wide.

“You okay?” asks Melissa already halfway out of her chair.  It’s just the two of you in the break room; she on a free period and your kids in PE. 

“Yeah,” you nod.  “I think…I think it just kicked.”  It happens again and you press a hand to your stomach.  “It did, it definitely did!”  You look up and find her barely a couple of feet away, her hand reaching out before she quickly snatches it back.

“Can I?” she asks sheepishly.  “I mean would it-“

“You wanna feel it?” you ask.

“Is that weird?” she asks, screwing her face up.

You shake your head, smiling as you reach to take her hand and guide it to where she can feel it.  You know the moment she does as a wide smile spreads across her lips.

You laugh, tears in your own eyes as you watch her look down at your stomach in wonder.  You can’t help but think about how you’re sharing such a huge moment with her.  Of how she’s been there through a lot of your big moments.

She looks almost giddy as she looks up at you, tears in her brilliant green eyes.  She looks adorable and you could almost believe…  You shake your head.  That’s dangerous territory.  She’s a friend being supportive, nothing more.

 *

“What if it’s not even human?” you ask, aware you’re being ridiculous but unable to shake the fear.  Today is your next scan.  Today is the day you’re going to find out the sex and see actual features.  You’d be too terrified to ask the first time around, still too overwhelmed at hearing the heartbeat of the tiny life growing within you.

Melissa shrugs, “So you have a cute baby Yoda and get on with it.”

“You know the baby is actually called Grogo, right?”

The red head rolls her eyes.  “Not the point, Jacob.”

“Extra fingers and toes would probably come in handy,” Ava chimes in.  She’s not here for the baby chat, but rather, the pink and blue cupcakes Janine brought in.  “What?  At least the kid’ll have a talking point?”

Barb sighs, shaking her head.  She turns to you, reaching for your fidgeting hands.  “Don’t listen to them.  It’s going to be fine.  Everything was just fine the first time around, you’ve had no reason to worry, no symptoms that are out of the ordinary and you’ve even started to feel the baby move.”

You nod, releasing the breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding.  Melissa had been right, Barb did indeed have your back.  She’d been your voice of reason when you panicked, the one who was able to reassure you that as strange as it all felt, what you were going through was absolutely normal. 

More than just being right about Barb though, Melissa had been right about your little Abbott family.  Yes, there had been a few shocked faces when you’d told everyone, but they hadn’t judged.  They’d been helpful, kind and more patient than you often deserved. 

*

“Hey.”

You look up to find Melissa leaning against your doorframe.  You’d been too busy trying to cram everything into your handbag while keeping a lid on your anxiety to hear her approach. 

“I just wondered if you might want a ride to your scan?” she offers.  “Not that you can’t drive yourself,” she adds quickly, stepping further into your classroom.  “Just, you know…wondered if you wanted some company?  You seem pretty nervous and I didn’t want you to think you had to go in there alone like you did before.”

By the time she’s finished speaking she’d standing before you, wringing her hands.

“You’d really come?” you ask, your voice quiet and shaky even to your own ears.

She smiles softly at you.  “Course I would.”

 *

“It’s a girl.”

Those three words are enough to bring tears to your eyes.  It’s not as if you’d been particularly hoping for a girl, but somehow the knowing really brings it home.  You’re going to have a little baby girl. 

Melissa lets out a long, slow breath, blinking against the tears that have gathered in her own eyes.  It’s a battle she’s been losing since she heard the baby’s heartbeat sound loud and clear.  She looks from the screen showing your little girl to your face and back to the screen again as she presses a kiss to your hair. 

*

You sit on the edge of the uncomfortable hospital bed, holding the print of your scan between your fingers. 

“They said she was perfect,” you smile softly, stroking your finger over the image.

Melissa puts your bags down on the edge of the bed, moving until she can see the picture in your hand.  “She is,” she smiles, looking from the image to your smiling face.  She’s moving before she can comprehend what she’s doing, and suddenly her lips are pressed to your own.

The squeak of surprise from you is what brings her back to reality ands he quickly steps back, immediately apologising. 

You reach out, catching her hand.  “Don’t apologise…or at least, don’t apologise unless you didn’t mean anything by that.” 

Taking a deep breath, the red head steps forward, looking terrified but trying to be brave.  “I meant it,” she admits softly, reaching out to cup your cheeks, thumbs tracing your cheekbones. 

Your own trembling hands find purchase on her hips, the feel of her strong and solid and real before you grounding.  “Really?”

She nods, tears gathering in her eyes once more.  “I don’t know when it happened,” she starts, her voice soft, but sure.  “But I think somewhere along the line I might just have fallen in love with you and that little girl we’ve yet to meet.”

You sniffle, tears already making tracks down your cheeks once more.  “Any hope I had of ever having a chance with you I lost the day I saw that positive test.”  You shift to wrap your arms around her, burying your face into her stomach.  You feel her hands stroke soothingly up and down your back, the gentleness of the gesture only serving to make you cry harder. 

When you’d arrived at the hospital you’d half expected Melissa to wait in the car, but she hadn’t even hesitated before she was out of the truck and moving round to open your door.  The only time she had hesitated was when the nurse had called you in, unsure whether you would want her there for such a private moment.  When you’d held out your hand, however, she’d been out of her chair in a heartbeat, linking her fingers with your own.  As you’d settled on the bed, she’d been right there, a comforting arm around your shoulder, cheek pressed to your hair as her eyes took in the little miracle on the screen.

You hadn’t been sure then whether your tears were of relief that everything was fine, that she was fine, or whether you were simply overwhelmed at how different it felt to have someone, to have Melissa by your side for this scan. 

“I wouldn’t lose hope just yet if I were you,” she says softly.

Loosening your grip on her, you look up to find her smiling down at you.  It feels too good to be true.

Your little bubble is burst by the nurse returning.  “Sorry!  I didn’t realise you guys were still in here.  I was just coming back to clean up.  I’ll give you some time.”

Melissa shakes her head.  “No, don’t be silly.  We were just on our way out.”  She lifts your coat, holding it out to you as you stand before helping you into it.  With a soft touch, she adjusts your collar before lifting your bag along with her own and reaching out to take your hand as though it’s perfectly normal.

Smiling at the nurse as you leave, you can only look at the woman next to you in wonder, feeling as though you’re floating as she leads you back to the car.

With the doors closed, the reality of the last few minutes begin to sink in. 

“We should probably talk.”

You tense up at those words, and Melissa sees it.  She’s quick to reach over and take your hand. 

“Why don’t you come back to mine and I’ll make dinner and we can talk?” she suggests.  “Just some food, some conversation.  No pressure, no nothing, just talk?”

As if on cue your stomach growls, even as it twists anxiously at the conversation that you know is to come.

*

You expect dinner to be awkward, but as you watch Melissa move around her kitchen as she brings the meal together you can’t help but relax.  She looks happy and content as she cooks, and your heart almost bursts each time she checks in that you’re okay with a new ingredient.  She says nothing of the tears that once again gather in your eyes as she casually comments that she can’t be upsetting the little princess by feeding her things she doesn’t like. 

It's only after dinner when you’re sat at opposite ends of Melissa’s couch that things become awkward.

Melissa finally breaks the silence with a loud sigh.  “Okay, I planted one on you so only fair I go first.”  She takes a deep breath, turning to face you more fully on the couch.  “I don’t know when it happened.  Hell, I didn’t expect it to happen, but I meant what I said at the hospital.  I’m in love with you and that little jelly bean.  I’m not expecting you to feel the same, but I want to be there for you both even if-“

“I never really thought you could feel that way,” you say, cutting her off.  “Even before,” you pause, gesturing at your every growing bump.  “And especially after.”  

Scooting forward on the couch, Melissa finds your hand, linking your fingers together.  “So it’s not perfect,” she says with a crooked smile.  “But it’s real.”

You look down at your joint hands.  “Yeah…it’s real.”  You find yourself blushing furiously.  It feels almost ridiculous to think that somehow, despite everything, she wants this.  She wants you.

“You okay?  You burning up?” 

As Melissa reaches out with her free hand to press the back of her hand to your forehead, checking for a temperature, you find yourself blushing harder.   “I’m fine,” you reassure her.  “Just thinking…if this is real does that mean you actually want to kiss me?”

At this, the red head grins.  “Yeah, this is real.  I love you, and yes, that means I want to kiss you.”  She holds your gaze as she speaks, her voice steady and sure. 

“Even though I look like a beached whale?” you ask.

Melissa shakes her head, chuckling.  “You look beautiful.”

You raise an eyebrow at her.  “Don’t give me that ‘you’re glowing crap’.  I’m a mess.”

“A hot mess,” she smirks right back.

“A huge mess,” you argue. 

At this, she rolls her eyes.  “Are we just gonna argue about this or can I kiss you again?”

This time, there’s no come back on your lips, only Melissa’s pressed deliciously against your own. 

[skyjasper]

Imagine Being Loved By Me

Gwynriel: Talk by Hozier

COMPLETELY INSPIRED BY @avabrynne !!!

This idea comes completely from @avabrynne !! Great thanks to her for letting me use this prompt!!!

Masterlist

Summary: Gwyn and Azriel had been tiptoeing around her connection for almost a year now. The night before summer solstice the group goes out to Rita’s. Things finally snap for them when Azriel sings her a song.

Warnings: light NSFW, other than that nothing!! Complete fluff!!

Word count:3270

~~~

It was the week of summer solstice which meant the glorious city of Velaris was bustling with parties and celebrations. Gwyn had been comfortable enough to start going out with her girls and the inner circle by last winter solstice after Nesta and Cassian got together.

So here she sat in Nesta's room getting ready with Mor, Emerie, Nesta, and Feyre. She sat on the bed watching as Nesta moved her hair into a lovely ponytail. Nesta's eyes met hers through the mirror.

“Come on Gwyn, let's find you a dress, Mor can you do her makeup?” She turned to the blonde and waited for a nod before walking off to her wardrobe. Gwyn moved into the stool that sat in front of Nesta's vanity, staring at Mor evaluating her.

“Let’s make you irresistible, maybe you’ll find a lovely suitor.” Mor’s brows wiggled with intention as Gwyn’s cheeks flushed.

She didn’t tell anyone about her small crush on the court's shadow singer, nor did she tell anyone about their midnight training sessions. She nodded her head to Mor with a smile.

“Oh, I haven’t even thought about that. Where are we even going tonight?” She asked as Mor applied a Smokey line of Khol to her eyes.

“Rita’s is having a live singing night tonight so we are going to go and force the boys to sing,” Feyre spoke from her spot next to Gwyn.

“All the boys?” She poked her head to look at Feyre before Mor grabbed her chin to guide her back to where she needed.

“That’s the goal!” Feyre's happy voice chipped.

“I found the perfect dress!” Nesta shouted before coming out of her closet with a mid-length silk dress that was the same shade of blue as her priestess robes. A gorgeous number that had Gwyn melting at the idea of wearing such a delicate piece on her body.

“That’s gorgeous Nes, I can’t possibly take that from you.” She whispered as if her voice would hurt the dress.

“Gwyn, I don’t even know why I have this dress, it certainly is not my color.” Nesta shrugged before moving to place the dress over a chair.

“Hey, Gwyn?” Emorie came to sit next to the nymph.

“Yes Em?”

“You remember when we went and you bought those lacy underthings even though you knew you weren’t gonna wear them?” She whispered only loud enough for the two of them to hear.

“Yes, I got them because they gave me power over myself, even though I have no reason to wear them they make me feel pretty,” Gwyn responded, currently applying a reddish-pinkish colored lip salve.

“Well… they would be perfect to wear under this dress.” Emorie shrugged. Gwyn paused, contemplating it, after a hesitant moment she nodded and stood to ask the house to retrieve them.

Once she was in the bathroom with the dress and her underthings she quickly changed. She pulled on the light blue lacy underthings before slipping on the matching slip for it. She took a second to observe herself in the mirror, reminding herself of her affirmations. I am the rock against which the surf crashes. Nothing can break me.

She pulled on the tight piece of silk, marveling at how it hugged her form to her waist before slightly tapering out into a lovely flowing skirt. The neckline was something she hadn’t seen before, the fabric was rippled in a purposeful way to look like loose silk when in fact it was not. It gave her a sight of her cleavage, her breasts were not large but they were at least a handful. The skirt had a dangerously high slight that came to rest at mid-thigh. As she laced the back her waist became more accentuated.

Gwyn took a second to take in the sight of herself and how beautiful she looked. The light blue- almost iridescent- silk showed off her slight tan from training and her vibrant hair. Even her freckles seemed more prominent.

“You ok in there Gwyn?” Nesta's voice asked, laden with concern from the other side of the door. Gwyn walked over to the door and opened it.

“Yeah, I’m ok. Are you sure this dress isn’t too much for tonight?” Gwyn asked shyly.

“No this is perfect! You look gorgeous Gwyn! Let’s do your hair.” Came Feyres voice from behind Nesta who was still staring at Gwyn with her jaw open.

“You look absolutely stunning Gwinnie. I know a certain male who is going to explode when he sees you.” Nesta told her while pulling her back to the vanity.

Gwyn took a second to mull over Nesta's words as one of the girls put two thin braids in her hair at the front before pulling it up into a ponytail, one braid running on each side.

“Who do you mean Nes?” Gwyn finally found the courage to ask, hoping she doesn’t sound as hopeful as she is.

“Oh come on Gwyn, we all know the shadow singer holds a certain appreciation for you, we see the way he looks at you. And those midnight training sessions, he’s never done that with anyone.” Mor spoke from behind her as she applied perfume oils to her skin.

“Wh-what, I don’t know what you are on about. Az and I are certainly just friends.” Gwyn blushed at the implication.

“If that’s what you think.” Emorie chuckled.

~~~

More and Feyre winnowed all of them to Rita’s. The girls ordered a round of drinks while waiting for the males. Not five seconds after their drinks were in hand did they hear the unmistakable sound of Cassian’s laugh.

They all turned towards the sound, finding Rhys dressed in his normal dress pants and a button-down, Cassain in typical pants and a loose top. Gwen slightly choked on her drink when her gaze ran across Azriel, he was hardly ever seen outside of his leathers, but tonight he wore black tight jeans and a black shirt that hugged his muscles, his wings standing proud and his black hair a bit messy. He looked more than edible, and when his gaze found Gwyn staring her cheeks blushed.

Azriel was the first to move towards them, his head dipping in acknowledgment to the girls before his eyes raked over Gwyn's form. His gaze moved down her body slowly, taking in each and every element of the gorgeous nymph. Azriel had always been attracted to Gwyneth and not just her beautiful looks but her intelligence as well. She was the only one who matched him, who challenged him in all ways, intellectually, in the ring, and all other aspects. Gwyn never failed to turn every interaction into a game.

When he finally came face to face with Gwyn he could only think of one thing to say.

“You look absolutely stunning, Gwyneth.”

A blush quickly rose on her already pink cheeks, her entire neck now heating at his compliment.

“You as well Shadow singer. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you outside of your leathers.” She smiled at him, not noticing her friends staring at the two of them. Azriels eyes slightly widened at her words, taking them in a different way.

“Not like that Az!” Gwyn laughed out. “I just meant you are always wearing your leathers, I’ve never seen you in casual clothing. It looks good.” She explained herself as the left side of his lips twitched.

“I understand Berdara.” He shook his head. He leaned over Gwen’s small form to get the bartender’s attention.

Gwen’s eyes stuck to his chest and his very prominent pecs. She turned her head to the girls before sliding out from under the shadow singer, reaching out and hugging Cassian.

“Gwinnie.” He shouted before patting her head.

“Cass.” She laughed, “Have you already had some drinks?”

“Oh absolutely, Rhys and I finished a good bit of scotch, Azzie insisted on being sober until we got here.” He continued before moving over to his wife and mate, whispering something in her ear that made her blush.

Gwyn said her hellos to the high lord before they all moved to find a booth tucked away somewhere. They all moved in, Feyre and Rhys on the innermost part, on their right were Nesta and Cassian, and on their left were Emorie and Mor, which left Gwyn and Az to sit together. He stood to the side waiting for her to slide into the booth.

She felt his gaze on her back, by now she had already finished her first drink and was feeling the effects of it. Her skin flushed with the heat of the alcohol, her grace already a bit more clumsy. Gwyneth Berdara was and always had been a lightweight.

Azriel slid in next to her, his thigh meeting hers. His shadows slid over her legs and up one of her arms, curling themselves around her as they always do in her presence. Her light giggle hit him hard. He turned his head to find her playing with the shadows as they moved all over her arms.

“Ok, shall we kick this night off with some singing?!” Mor clapped from her seat, startling Gwyn.

“Who’s first?” Feyre asked, looking around the table.

“Gwyn should go first. I’d kill to hear your voice again.” Azriel muttered the last part only loud enough for her to hear.

“Oh no, I’m already tipsy. I don't think it’d be that good.” She chuckled nervously, silently praying to the mother it wouldn’t have to be her.

“I’ll save you Gwinnie, I’ll go first. Don’t fret you’re next Gwinnie.” Cassian rumbled, trying and almost failing to stand and get out of the booth.

Cass semi-stumbled his way to the stage, asking for the projecting device and introducing himself. Rita’s erupted in cheers as Cassian started to sing a newer song about senseless love and nonsense. Something that Bryce chick had taught him.

“Gwyneth…” Azriel drew in a whisper, “Why wouldn’t you sing? You have a beautiful voice.”

“I am not nearly drunk enough to sing in front of all of these people. Maybe later tonight.” She shrugged in response, turning her head towards the shadow singer, not realizing how close he was.

“Speaking of, would you be a doll and go get me a new drink Azzie.” She mocked Cassian’s use of the nickname.

He chuckled and nodded before slipping out of the booth, walking with his head high through the crowd, power radiating off his body. When she turned back into the booth she saw Nesta and Feyre staring at her.

“What?”

“What?!” Feyre mocked. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Azriel give this many smiles in public before.” She said, sipping on her drink.

“Oh hush, he’s just comfortable because he’s around his family.” Gwyn lied smoothly. “Plus maybe it’s just because I’m that funny” She mockingly flipped her ponytail, freezing when she felt it his something, or someone.

She turned and saw Az standing there with two drinks and a raised eyebrow looking down at her. Azriel had always towered over Gwyn but with her sitting in the low booth and him standing she was face to face with his stomach. She winced before scooting over to let him in.

“Hush.” She muttered before taking her drink out of his hand and chugging it.

“At this rate, you’ll be drunker than Cassian in no time,” Emorie spoke from her side of the table.

“Maybe I need to be so you all will be somewhat tolerable.” She replied with a thick layer of sass. Rhysand let out a deep chuckle, turning back to Feyre as they engaged in a silent conversation.

She felt a large hand run over the length of her ponytail, toying with the ends. She turned to look at the shadow singer as he stared at her.

“Can I help you?” Her eyebrow hiked up as his hand glided over the back of her neck, resting there as if it were normal.

“If I sing will you?” His deep voice asked, sending shivers through Gwen’s body.

She was speechless, Azriel had only ever sung for her once, granted his voice was beautiful, but he had said he doesn’t often do it in front of people.

“I suppose that is a fair deal. But first, since Cassian is finally done torturing the crowd with his voice let’s dance!” She clapped, standing quickly and swaying from the rush. Azriel’s scarred hands found themselves on her waist to help stabilize her. She smiled down at him before forcing everyone else to dance.

The song was something upbeat and fun, after Bryce had left to fight her war she came back with a gift, the swords, and these things called speakers that connected to one of her phones, she had also given them a large amount of batteries so it would last them while they studied the devices to replicate them. It made them all quite happy to have a new form of music, though some people were skeptical.

Gwyn grabbed Azriel’s hand and dragged him to the area of people dancing. She was a giggling, bubbly mess, and the shadow singer loved it. He had never seen her so unrestrained, save for their conversations while no one was around. Azriel cherished those conversations, he replayed them constantly in his hand, his heart fluttering at the memory of her bright smiles and sassy jokes.

With all regard abandoned Gwyneth danced, moving her body in a way that wasn’t meant to be sensual, but to the intoxicated shadow singer, was so enchanting. His shadows whispered to him about holding her ponytail around his fist as he thrust into her from behind, or about sliding the top of her dress down and watching her beautiful breast bounce. He quickly shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts and mask his scent. He didn’t used to have fantasies about Gwyn, but recently most of his nights are spent in a cold bath.

Azriel did not dance, he stood there like a guard to Gwyn, and when she noticed she stopped dancing. She moved her way to Azriel, wrapping her arms around her neck to raise herself to his ear.

“Why aren’t you dancing Azriel?” Her sultry voice spoke into his ear. Azriel stifled a groan at the sound of his name out of her mouth.

“I don’t dance, you know that Gwyneth.” He responded, placing his hands back on her hips to keep her steady.

“But Az…” she whined, dragging out the Z in his name, sending truly impure thoughts into his filthy brain.

“Gwyneth.” He spoke curtly with a voice so low she thought she might be imagining it.

He placed her on the floor before looking up, trying to regain his composure and restraint. He let go of her before walking up to the stage. He looked back at Gwyn and watched as her eyes widened as he took the amplifier.

He waited for the crowd to calm down before starting without any music.

I'd be the voice that urged Orpheus

When her body was found,

Gwyn stared at him as his beautiful voice started to sing a song she hadn’t heard before.

I'd be the choiceless hope in grief

That drove him underground,

Gwyn felt Nesta slide next to her, also completely enamored by Azriel's voice.

I'd be the dreadful need in the devotee

That made him turn around,

“How did you convince him to sing?” She whispered, barely audible, so as to not disturb the delicate song.

And I'd be the immediate forgiveness

In Eurydice.

“I didn’t.” She responded, making eye contact with Nesta as he sang the next line.

Imagine being loved by me!

Gwyn felt something pool inside of her stomach. She had spent many late nights in the bathing chambers, pleasuring herself to the thought of the shadow singer.

I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things we'd do

So I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you

Not once did Azriels gaze stray from Gwyn, not as he watched every emotion fly across her face, or as the heat rose in her cheeks at the implication of the words he sang.

He moved on to the next line as Gwyn stood there staring back at him. Suddenly, as he reached the end of the last verse, everyone else disappeared. It was just her and him as he wholeheartedly sang the words.

I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things I would do

So I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you

Azriel watched as realization flicked upon Gwyn's eyes. Her chest and neck started to flush the same color as her cheeks. The same flush he had imagined in his mind as he stared up at her from between her legs.

Gwyn's eyes flicked back over Azriels form as she realized he was single-handedly singing to her. Heat raked through her as she recalled the lyrics.

“I’ll be back Nesta.” She whispered breathlessly, turning and walking quickly to the back hall where there was an exit into the alleyway.

She rested her head against the brick wall, her heart beating wildly and her breath completely gone. She closed her eyes as she ran back through all of their interactions, screaming at herself for being so naive and blind.

She opened her eyes as she heard the door she came through open and close. Azriel was standing there, something like fear on his face as he waited for her response. All Gwyn could think to do was to walk up to him and kiss him.

Her arms flew around his neck as their kiss became hungry and passionate. Gwyn's hands found one of her thighs, pulling one leg up to his hip as he walked them so her back was against the wall. He broke the kiss, staring at her.

“Gwyneth.” He whispered.

“Azriel.” She whispered back, her lips ghosting against his. This time it was him smashing his lips to her, pushing her against the wall as one of his hands tangled itself in her ponytail.

“Wait. Gwyn, are you sure? Are you sure you want this? Us? I know I’m not the most honorable male, and I definitely don’t have a clean past.” He asked her.

“Azriel. I have wanted this since I cut that ribbon, I have wanted you since we started our training sessions and I found out just how beautiful your soul is. I don’t give a crap about your past, mine is definitely not clean. And those hands that you despise so much are the same hands that saved me, the same hands that taught me how to defend myself and reclaim my power, and hopefully the same hands that will make me cum.” She stared up at him as his hands flexed against her skin.

“Thank fucking gods, we can have a more meaningful conversation later, right now I just need to kiss you. Is that ok?” Before his sentence was fully out of his mouth Gwyn was nodding.

Azriel continued their kiss, pulling her leg tighter around his hips. The hand that was in her hair came down to her other thigh and tapped at it, signaling for her to jump. They were both breathless as they broke the kiss.

“Thank you, Gwyn.” He whispered, staring into her beautiful blue eyes.

“For what?”

“For showing me that I’m not ruined.” He smiled at her, a wide bright smile that carried across his whole face.

That damned dress.

~~~~

Note: I think this concept was so cute!!! I love writing Gwyriel!! Don’t worry I didn’t forget about the fics I promised!! They are coming, this was just my contribution to Gwynriel weeks!!

@gwynrielweeksofficial (their first kiss!!))

Taglist:

@littlelunatica @going-through-shit @annaaaaa88 @i-am-infinite @impossibelle

[bomberqueen17]

letters

So in 1944 my grandpa got tuberculosis. It was bad enough that they sent him to a sanitarium up in the Adirondacks for a rest cure, which was what was recommended at the time. He'd been married to my grandmother for just a little while; they had a son, my uncle, and she was pregnant with my dad.

While he was there he wrote letters daily. He wrote a lot of letters, I think, to his parents and sister and friends. But the ones he sent to his wife, my grandma, she kept.

I don't know the chronology of it all, but after Grandma died, probably my dad found the packet of letters, as he was the one who went through her effects-- might have been his little sister, my aunt. Anyway the packet got circulated around, and then came back to my dad, who carefully organized all of the letters into a binder with individual plastic archival sleeves. Someone asked after them recently, and Mom found them and pulled them out. I was over there today, feeding her cat while she's on vacation, and so I leafed through them.

Grandpa's handwriting is similar, a bit, to my late father's, so I was able to read it reasonably easily. He started strong, the first letter he recounts how he fared in the rainstorm he'd apparently left home in, and then asks how Grandma fared.

How are you, my Baby? Did your schooner of sleep bear you safely thru the storm? If it didn't then you won't be reading this sorry excuse for a letter.

In that same letter he goes on to say,

Zounds! How can I create in this infernal bedlam? All the patients are up (as far as possible) and braying, the phone is ringing, Ma is delivering the Gettysburg Address + Pa is making more noise with a piece of wrapping paper than I could make with a hammer and a piece of steele [sic].

It rapidly escalates from there, and in a later letter he explains that the rest cure was so boring he had literally nothing to do, nothing to write home about, and so in an effort to keep from dwelling on how much he hated it there, he would write these flowery, possibly-repetitive love letters, because he simply had nothing else to talk about.

Your accounts of the marital woes of the [illegible, probably neighbors] are really hair-raising, but I don't think that the happiness of our marriage is due entirely to good fortune. As I have always said, we were made for each other a long, long time ago and our hearts refused to love anyone until the right one came along.

Looking at the postmarks, I realized they dated from right around the time of my father's birth, so I found the one that was sent the day after Dad was born, and it did not disappoint.

My beloved Words cannot express just how I feel this morning; I am all mixed up. You are so wonderful that sometimes I wonder what I ever did to deserve you. You are the one who is increasing our fortunes, for truly our children are the treasures that make us rich. You are so brave, so cool that I hold you in undying amazement. I am sure of one thing, My Darling; I know your sons will love you, not just because you are their mother, but for your own precious self, for the truly great woman you are. For the ordeal you have gone thru to bring these precious lives into being, rest assured of the eternal devotion of your menfolk. Last night all I could think of was you. I heard the night train coming into the station and my heart said "Run, run and catch the train before it is too late. Run to your loved ones and to hell with the results. Run, let nothing keep you from their sides." But my head said, "No, don't undo all that has been done. They also serve who stand and wait. Wait, and by so doing, prove your love to be more than the reckless love of youth, prove it to be the wise, guiding love that lives on long after passion has spent itself and thus spent, dies." And so I waited and the train left without me + my heart hated me for it.

Oh boy I cried, I sure did. (I had to look it up; "They also serve who only stand and wait" is from John Milton's Sonnet XIX.)

He always uses beloved or darling or somesuch as the salutation, but he often refers to her as Red within the text of the letters, because she had red hair. He occasionally made saucy references to their sex life, elsewhere in the letters. But mostly it's absolutely banger shit like this:

My thoughts and deeds, my smiles and tears, my happiness, my loneliness, my joy, my sorrow, my every breath, yea, even the final beat of my loving heart are poor blossoms placed on my altar of adoration, raised in humble gratitude to you.

Her name was Margaret, and I never knew her to have any nicknames, she just went by her name. Except to him, apparently. But as for him-- his government name was John, as was my father's, but my father never had to have a nickname, because there was never a day in his life Grandpa went by John. His name was Buddy, everyone called him Buddy, and he signed his letters as Buddy.

He died in January of 1978 of complications related to the damage to his lungs from the tuberculosis (not directly, but it was related). Grandma was standing in the hallway of the hospital, watching him sleep, waiting for him to wake up so he could meet my older sister, his third grandchild. He never did meet her.

She died in 2002 of congestive heart failure; I'd spent much of the preceding week with her and she'd spoken mostly of him.

[lezziemanville]

Well, I turn 40 in a couple of weeks.

You know when you’re a kid and your teachers and parents say, “Time goes by so fast, before you know it your youth is gone!”. Not only are they right, but we waste so much of it waiting for happiness.

There’s a scene from The Hours where Meryl Streep’s character Clarissa says “I remember thinking to myself: So this is the beginning of happiness. This is where it starts. And of course there will always be more. It never occurred to me that it wasn’t the beginning. It was happiness.”

I reflect on that a lot. We’ve all lived in some dark times these past 10 years or so, some of the darkest for society as a whole; Certainly within my lifetime. And I find myself in that pattern of leap-frogging, trying to trade the present for a promise of what’s coming. In doing that, I can’t help but feel I’ve hastened through things, missed some of the finer details as I skipped along. Often I wasn’t even landing in a happier place, wasn’t further ahead after the jump.

We all do this to ourselves, I think.

It’s interesting that at some point, Christmas morning loses the excitement; That one day you stop stepping around cracks in the sidewalk and start worrying about things like global affairs, laws and injustice. Loss of innocence? Sure. Loss of whimsy? Definitely. And something more too. Something irreversible and lost to time. A sort of silent melancholia that follows us around, only letting up when we see an old television show or toy from our childhood. A reminder that we’ve always had happiness, in pockets, this whole time.

I’m not really sad to be turning 40, but I’m certainly more cognizant of time. I am happily married with a wife 30 years older than I am, with parents roughly the same age. I’m more aware that time can’t keep going by in a blur. That moments are to be savored, especially the good ones.

I don’t know why I’m posting this, other than to say if you’re reading this and you’re younger than I am (let’s face it, if you’re on tumblr you’re probably younger than I am) — listen to your gay aunty - do things that bring you joy. Like the things you like, go down that rabbit hole that others may not understand. Don’t let someone ruin something for you. Don’t read the comments. Don’t get lost trying to constantly advance to the next best thing. Sometimes the very best thing is the thing you’re in now. Watch the show, read the book, write fanfic for the smallest most irrelevant character in a series because they make you smile and don’t care if anyone else bothers to read it. Most importantly — be kind to yourself and have patience with your own story as it unfolds. Don’t compare yourself to others, don’t be influenced out a life well-lived.

Oh yes, and buy the flowers yourself.

[bluehourbucky]

Guilt

pairing: yelena belova x f!reader

summary: yelena feels the guilt when she realises she's jealous

tw: talk of pregnancy/ pregnancy symptoms, forced hysterectomy;

a/n: I am not a medical professional, and i know nothing about pregnancy or fertility so im really sorry if this is inaccurate. P.S I don't know Russian so bare with me I used Google translate.

_________________________________________

Ever since you had gotten pregnant, Yelena had been the best wife anyone could ever ask for. As much as she hates to admit she's even more nervous than you are, which is no surprise.

She has always wanted a family, and she couldn't have been happier the moment the doctor told you two that you were expecting after a few failed attempts.

From day one, Yelena was there for you, cooking, cleaning, building furniture for the new baby room, redying the wall four times because you couldn't decide which colour you liked the best.

But there was one thing Yelena would never skip. Every single day, she would wake up and kiss your belly and talk to маленький (little one) as she liked to call your baby. She would tell them about what she dreamed of, how much she already loved them even if they hadn't met yet.

You're now 7 months pregnant, and your bump has been making it hard to move, Yelena was happy to help in every way possible.

Yelena was preparing breakfast when she heard her phone ring. She smiled when she was your name pop up.

"моя любовь, why didn't you just call for me?" she asked you already on the way to the bedroom.

"Good morning. I'm stuck, and I really need to pee." You made grabby hands at her, and before she helped you, Yelena had to give both you and the bump a good morning kiss.

At first, she didn't know what happened, so she chose to go back to cooking.

She gave you heart eyes when she saw you waddle towards the bathroom. She was so lucky. But suddenly, an uncomfortable and unusual feeling goes through Yelena.

You came behind her and hugged her the best you could, giving her shoulder a gentle kiss.

"Morning, my beloved." her heart flipped at the nickname.

"Good morning, love. Morning маленький."

You turn around and walk back again to the bathroom, making Yelena chuckle.

After breakfast, which went on as usual, Yelena got that same unusual feeling in her chest. She didn't know where it was coming from. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, and yet.

"Cuddles?" Yelena looks at you comfortably, laying on the couch waiting for her to come, and she does without a thought, pushing the feeling down.

Yelena thought that the weird feeling she got would be gone soon, but it's been a week, and it still hasn't gone away.

Suddenly, it hits her while you were sleeping in her arms, her hands on your belly stroaking it.

She's jealous.

She's jealous that you're the one carrying the baby. That choice was taken from her a long time ago. Even though you both had agreed about you carrying your first child and not adopting or getting a surrogate, she wishes that she could've been an option.

Over the next week, Yelena had been spending less time and less time with your belly, which concerned you. This was very unusual behaviour for her. On the fifth day, you decided to ask her what's wrong.

You were getting ready for bed after a shower that took longer without Yelenas' help.

Once you were comfortably in bed, you finally ask.

"Are you okay, sweetheart? Is something wrong? You know you can talk to me, right?"

Yelena looks at you nervously, knowing that in no way could she lie to you, she promised.

"I'm sorry моя любовь, I been feeling a little jealous, and upset. But not at you. Never at you."

you get a hold of her hand, sqeezing it, encouraging her to continue.

"As you know, the black widow program was awful, and one of the many things they took from us was our reproductive system. You know this. And I didn't think it would ever matter because I didn't think I would ever have family. But I have you. And I love you. And I love our little one. But I wish I could've been given the choice to be the one carrying the baby."

Yelena, let's out a tear which you wipe from her cheek. You don't see her cry often, almost never, and it hurts you to see her like this.

"Oh, baby."

"And I feel guilty because I know it's not easy what you're doing, The morning sickness at the begning, the moving, the cravings and all the other things. And I get jealous? While you're doing so much work carrying our baby. I'm sorry"

By this point, you're both in tears. Your heart hurts for her, and you wish you could kill those bastards all over again for what they had done, not only to her but to other women.

"There's no reason you should feel guilty, what they did to you was wrong, and you're right to feel the loss of what could've been. And please don't apologise for the way you're feeling. I love you so much, and I wish I could take this feeling away."

Yelena appreciates your words more than you know. She's so lucky to have you.

"Thank my love, люблю тебя." you kiss her and whisper an I love you back.

"Now I have a lot of catching up to do with my маленький, so if you'll excuse me."

The sound of your wife talking to your unborn baby makes you fall asleep.

"Momma loves you so much, and I love mommy, and we love you the most. Be good to mommy okay, she's the best. I'll talk to you in the morning, we have to let mommy rest."

Yelena gives a kiss to her wife's tummy, and finally, a good night kiss to her sleeping wife.

When Yelena finally falls asleep, it's with her hand protectively placed on top of the bump.

[THE END]

hope you enjoyed <3

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[cannedapricot]

the bouquet. || njm

in which you love watching your coffee shop regulars and irregulars go about their day. you loved hearing stories about their lives and their loved ones. yet, you'd be lying if you said it didn't make you feel lonely. alternatively, you were in love with the concept of love, na jaemin was in love with you.

word count: 2.8k

genre, warnings: fluff, angst near the end, comfort i think, slice of life, coffee shop!au, flower shop!au, pining, worries about never being able to experience romance covered up with bright smiles and warm coffee, profanities

bgm: people watching by conan gray, cloud 9 by beach bunny, perfect day by mao buyi, sweet dream by nct u

a/n: this only happened because i wanted to write fluff HAHA so by default it isn't proof read also i am not a florist so idk if these flowers look good in a bouquet LMAO

PHILIA (n) - affectionate love - yellow chrysanthemums

A warm beam of sunlight streams in through the glass window, toasting the wooden the tables and chairs in its wake. You stretch behind the counter - warm sunny afternoons always gave you the urge to nap.

Opposite you, on the other side of the store, stood your coworker amongst the displays of flowers. Na Jaemin was attractive, and more often than not, you'd hear people compare him to the flowers he worked with in attempt to woo him. They never worked though, Jaemin would always respond with a polite smile and a "thank you". You'd try your best to hold in your giggle as they leave the store with a sour expression. But then you'd meet eyes with Jaemin, he'd mouth a playful "oops", and you'd have to duck down to hide your laugh behind the counter.

It was a slow day. You barely had anyone to serve so you spent your time arranging and rearranging shelves in the back, cleaning equipment, and munching on the seasonal lavender flavored cake your store offered. Jaemin, on the other hand, seemed to be catching up on bouquet orders. Each bouquet was prepared with the same amount of care and focus as the next. Each flower was chosen with a purpose to serve. Jaemin wasn't only known as a pretty face. He was also known for his beautiful bouquets.

Seemingly haven to caught you staring, without looking up from his work, your coworker jokingly says,

"Go back to work."

"But there is no work. No one wants a coffee from me."

"I do. See, you have work."

You turn around to start his coffee - iced americano, three shots of espresso. He usually whines for more espresso but in attempt to keep his body functioning, you only allow a maximum of three shots.

The overhead bell tinkles and a woman walks in. You give them a smile over your shoulder to welcome them in. She returns the smile, but walks up to Jaemin's counter instead.

"Hi! I had an order for pick up today?"

"Oh yes, chrysanthemums right?"

The woman nods as Jaemin goes to fetch her prepared bouquet. You finish the coffee and bring it over to your coworker's counter, making conversation with the customer as you do so.

"Are the flowers for anyone?"

"They are! One of my friends is graduating today and I wanted to congratulate her as well as thank her for being such a lovely friend."

You can't help but grin at the story. The way the woman brightened up mentioning her friend. The way she spoke so highly of them. They must be someone extremely precious to her.

"A great choice of flowers." Jaemin comments, returning with a bright yellow bouquet.

"Thank you. I spent hours looking up the meanings of flowers. My friend's really into the language of flowers."

The both of you thank her for her patronage and watch as she heads off, the brightly colored flowers tucked safely in her arms.

"Happiness, joy, celebration."

"Hm?"

Jaemin takes a sip of his coffee before answering.

"You wanted to know the meaning right? I could tell."

Sometimes Jaemin's ability to read your mind scares you. How does he just know?

"Also, this coffee doesn't have the amount of espresso I requested."

"I'm saving your life." You retort, heading back to your post.

You spare a glance at the door the woman walked out of. How special it must be to have someone care for you that much. A friend who would scour the internet for the perfect flower for you. A friend who had the most precious expression talking about you.

You loved knowing the stories behind your customers. Yet, for some reason, they always made you feel more alone.

PRAGMA (n) - enduring love - baby's breath

Entering the shop today, you were greeted with the sight of Jaemin surrounded by a copious amount of baby's breath flowers. It was certainly a sight to behold.

"A regular of ours is getting married soon - they've asked me to prepare the flowers for their wedding." He had said, bunching the small flowers together with a white ribbon. You hum, leaning on his counter as he continued to work. Jaemin's breath hitches at the proximity between the two of you - yet it goes unnoticed as you rack your brain to remember the regular.

"I remember! Is it the tall man who always shows up in a suit?"

"The one that always manages to squeeze his partner in every sentence? Yeah."

Jaemin's gaze falls upon you as you rest your head on your palms, a huge smile adorning your face.

"Adorable."

"The couple? Yeah. I can't believe they're getting married!"

His comment wasn't about the couple.

Jaemin returns his focus back on the flowers, aiming for the bunches to be as consistent as possible.

"They've been together for quite long, haven't they?" You mention, watching his slim fingers weave the perfect bow around the fragile flowers.

"Mhm, ten years I think. He said they were high school sweethearts."

A yearnful sigh escapes your lips.

"How cute. I wish I had something like that."

Jaemin gently pokes your forehead, a soft smile on his own lips.

"You're idolizing the idea of love again."

"I can't help it! Isn't the idea of falling for one another just so romantic? The butterflies, the flushed faces, the shy touches!" You squeal at the thought. Romance was your favorite genre, even if you've never experienced it personally, it was always a gem to witness.

"Instead of standing there and squealing like a high schooler - you should come around and help me with these flowers."

"But I'm not the florist - you don't see me asking you to make coffee."

"I am terrified that you will start kicking your legs like a high schooler with a crush next alright? And it's not hard, I'll teach you."

So you make your less than graceful jump across the counter, asking Jaemin to catch you (he didn't) and the two of you spent the day side by side bunching up baby's breaths.

"What do baby's breaths mean?"

Jaemin's shoulder meets yours and his fingers brush against your own as he fixes your ribbon. The sun was warm, or was that your skin flushing?

"Everlasting love."

STORGE (n) - familiar love - white lilac

"What do you recommend for my daughter who's just given birth?"

Your ears perk up from the storage room and you immediately drop the bag of coffee beans you were holding to eavesdrop on the conversation.

"Congratulations! I'm sure you must be ecstatic!"

"I am! A healthy young granddaughter! I love her already. The entire family is celebrating."

A wave of joy crashes on you. You weren't just a sucker for romantic love, but all types of love. Humans were surrounded by love all the time, consciously or unconsciously, it was always present. And to you, there wasn't anything that made you happier than seeing others feel the joy of loving and being loved.

You sneak a peak out into the open area, just in time to see the lady leave the store, white lilacs in her bag and a skip in her step.

"Eavesdropping is rude you know?"

"Boo, I'm just trying to get in on some good news."

Jaemin laughs as you jokingly pout at him, his structure stands out against the light streaming in from the big windows. You've always thought his smile was dazzling. It really was no mystery as to why he was so popular.

"Hey, could you help with the coffee beans? You've got nothing to do now anyway."

"Ask cutely."

"I'm reporting you to the boss. That has got to be a breach of some HR protocol."

"I'm just joking." The boy says making his way towards you. Unexpectedly, he stops to tuck a small piece of white lilac behind your ear, face only inches away from yours.

"Purity, innocence. I think it suits you."

He then continues his journey to the storage room casually, as if the two of you weren't just a hair's distance away from each other.

"Na Jaemin what the fuck?"

EROS (n) - romantic love - red roses

A knowing glance was shared between you and your coworker as a couple walks in, arms linked with each other.

"I love you honeybunches."

"I love you more sweetie pie."

The couple shares a kiss, the audible smooching loud enough to be echoing through the store. You had to pretend to clear your throat to grab their attention.

"How may I help you two?"

After placing their order, the couple giggles and slinks to a table in the corner. You notice that they sit next to each other instead of opposite.

"Is that the type of love you want?" Jaemin whispers as you froth the milk for a sweet potato latte.

"Oh come on, they're not that bad. I bet they're just in the honeymoon phase is all."

"Mhm, and they're definitely not making out in the corner right now."

With a roll of your eyes, you wipe down the metal wand. Without the noise of the machine, the wet sounds of mouth on mouth action could clearly be heard.

"They're cute!"

"Why? Do you want to make out in public as well? Come here, I can make that happen."

You were sure Jaemin was joking. The tone of his voice told you so. But when you looked into his eyes, they looked hopeful. Perhaps you were deluding yourself. All these thoughts about love were really altering the way you saw things.

"No. Go serve them their coffee."

"What? I thought you never made me do barista things?"

"It's only fair after you got me to do florist things."

Jaemin smiles at the playful quarrel, though you notice there was a hint of disappointment there. Why?

"This cake is new."

"Huh? Oh, yeah, it's the new red rose cake. The owner said they used rosewater when baking it."

"Passion, desire, romance. No wonder the couple picked it. Wish me luck."

You give your coworker a salute as he heads over with the drinks and dessert before busying yourself with cleaning. You don't notice the couple giving Jaemin advice and support regarding his stupidly obvious crush on you because stupidly, you believed that romantic love would never come to you.

LUDUS (n) - playful love - white roses

It was a cloudless day, the skies were a lovely shade of blue, and the birds were chirping a happy tune. It was the perfect day for a first date. Which is why you found yourself craning your neck to look at the couple sitting outside.

They were evidently on their first date. The nervous fiddling, the shy giggles, the playful laughter. You weren't even part of their date, but just watching them interact made your insides bubble with excitement.

"Jaemin! Jaemin look! They're comparing hand sizes!"

"I know, I can see what you see."

You were pretending to wipe down a table on the other side of the glass, trying your best to seem uninterested in their conversation. But the reality was, you were dying to hear everything they had to say.

The florist, on the other hand, was watering his flowers. Less interested than you were, but was still listening. Most of his attention wasn't on the couple outside, it was on you.

You were fretting over every small detail, eyes wide and sparkling whenever someone made a move. You were clasping you hands together when they exchanged coy looks, excitedly muttering Jaemin's name in order to have him look.

You were in your element, and you were glowing.

When did he fall for you? Jaemin doesn't even know. You were always so into the small details, remembering the tiniest change in people. So adorable when you unknowingly purse your lips when attempting latte art. Perhaps you had him wrapped around your finger since the day you stepped in the store, asking if they were hiring. Or perhaps he fell slowly, day after day of working together and being in your presence.

Jaemin doesn't know when, but he knows that his attempts at flirting had gone unnoticed. But Jaemin doesn't know how to give up. So he's made the decision to keep trying, again and again. He'll keep trying until the day you stop loving the concept of love, and start loving him.

"Here, a white rose each for the two of you - free of charge."

The couple seemed pleased. Your jaw hanging wide open when Jaemin returned.

"Flies are going to get in your mouth."

"Jaemin... That was so smooth. That made their date even more memorable."

He hopes that one day, your rose colored glasses would be directed at him.

PHILAUTIA (n) - self love - narcissus

The clouds were crying today, dying the sky a deep shade of gray. You sigh. It was as if the weather was mirroring your thoughts. You hated it.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Jaemin's warm hands gently hold your face, slowly turning you to face him. Hesitantly, you meet his eyes. They were worried, he was worried. You know. You could tell.

"Okay fine. I'll tell you. But no laughing alright?"

He nods.

"Its just... One of my friends got into a relationship and I'm jealous."

Silence.

"Wait, no, not because I was in love with my friend. But because I've never been in a relationship. As in, I want to know how it feels like?"

Jaemin lets out a silent sigh of relief.

"But I feel like I could never be loved like that. I've never had someone look at me as if I was the only person that ever mattered. And as much as I love the idea of that, I don't know if I'm worthy of it the way I am now."

Your voice slowly turns into a whisper, your insecurities escape and spread out in the small store. The atmosphere was heavy, around the same weight as your heart. Tears threatened to escape your eyes, the embarrassment of crying in front of your handsome coworker was the only thing holding them back.

Suddenly, Jaemin's hands, a little rough from tending to flowers, push against your cheeks.

"Y/N. You are worth loving. You are worthy of everything the world has to offer. Fuck, you're worth more than the world has to offer."

"Huh?" Was all you could make out as Jaemin's palms still had a firm grip on your cheeks.

"Listen, you are the brightest person I've ever laid my eyes upon. If you claimed you were the sun, nobody would argue differently. I don't even know how my world was before you. Stop thinking so negatively, alright?"

Ah shit. The tears were free falling now.

"Thank you, Jaemin."

The sun peeked through the clouds. A rainbow formed in the sky. A single daffodil sat in a vase on the windowsill.

AGAPE (n) - selfless love - red carnation

Jaemin stands alone behind his counter, head in his hands. He had basically confessed to you the other day. He basically said you were his sun damn it. But you still hadn't caught on.

It was your day off today. Jaemin received a lovely selfie of you earlier of you and a friend at an amusement park. A telling smile that formed on his face told everyone in the room all they needed to know.

"Just tell her straight up." Taeyong, the owner, suggests. "At this point I don't think they'd understand if you don't."

"I don't want them to be pressured into a relationship if they're not ready or not into me though." Jaemin replies, groaning. "What if we become awkward? I don't want that. Please, anything but that. All I want is for them to realize that I've been nursing a massive crush on them"

"Make them a bouquet," Johnny, one of the cafe's investors, mentions. "You're good at those right?"

"I've tried. But they don't turn out the way I want them to."

"Try harder."

The older men snicker as the younger shoots them a glare. Jaemin lies his head down on the cool surface of the counter, his eyes catch onto the brilliant red carnations blooming on the side.

"Red carnation. "My heart aches for you"."

The next day you clock in, you find red carnations decorating your work station. They were on the espresso machine, sitting on the cookie jar, and even inside mugs.

"Jaemin? What happened while I was gone?"

The boy smiles brightly from his station opposite yours. A view you've gotten used to.

"Welcome back?"

"I was gone for one day."

"Hey, I missed you for a whole day."

A tingle makes its way up your ears. You admit, you've been thinking a lot about Jaemin's words since the day you cried in front of him. How tender and passionate those words were, how they sounded almost like a confession.

A cake box catches your attention. Wrapped in a white ribbon with your name on it.

Undoing the bow and opening the cardboard reveals flowers. Delicately placed and arranged. You carefully look over the flowers. Yellow chrysanthemums, baby's breath, white lilac, red roses, white roses, daffodils, red carnation.

"Jaemin... is this from you?"

He grins.

"You know the meaning right?"