#as in they know it's requited AND THEY'RE STILL PINING | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luxaofhesperides · 1 year ago

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Ghostlights cuddling for comfort, but also they're oblivious idiots who are pining over each other but thinks its unrequited

“Ugh,” Duke says, dropping down onto the bench besides Danny.

Danny nudges him with his shoulder. “Rough night?”

“Slept for like an hour,” Duke mutters, “This sucks. My head’s going to burst like balloon and my eyes are about to fall out.”

“Yikes. You know, you could have just canceled for today. I wouldn’t have minded.”

Duke sighs and presses the heel of his palms against his eyes. “Maybe, but I would have minded. We barely see each other anymore, man. I’ve missed you.”

“Oh.” Danny bites his lip, trying and failing to stop from smiling. Something soft in his chest glows at the words, a growing spark of happiness in knowing that for this, at least, the feeling is requited. It’s nice to hear that he was missed, and it would be even nicer if Duke wasn’t in pain, pushing himself just because he didn’t want to cancel. Carefully, Danny reaches for him and pulls his hands away from his face. “Here,” he says, “Let me.”

His hands are always cold. Most of him is cold, really — side effect of having an ice core. Sam told him once that his hands were better than an ice pack, and he’s hoping she’s right or this is going to be weird.

Danny gently presses his fingers against Duke’s temples, his hands cradling Duke’s face. Duke is tense for a few seconds, then abruptly relaxes, leaning into Danny’s hands.

“Is this helping?” he asks, voice hushed to keep from aggravating Duke’s migraine.

“Mhm. Yeah, it feels great. Thanks, Danny.”

Duke goes completely limp, leaning against Danny. They sit there for a minute in silence, the rest of the world feeling far away. As nice as it is to just exist together, he knows what Duke needs most right now is quiet and stillness. Gotham is very much not that, and every honking car that passes by makes Duke wince, trying to turn away from the road even more.

“Hey, let’s head back to my place. It’s close by, and a lot quieter than out here.”

“Are you sure? I know we planned to go to the arcade today…”

“The arcade can wait. You’re more important.”

Duke blinks open his eyes and looks at Danny with something soft in his gaze. Being so close together, barely any space between them, with Duke looking at him like that makes Danny’s cheeks flush red, unable to think anything but please kiss me.

Which is never going to happen. Duke is his friend, and just his friend, no matter how much Danny wishes they could be something more. It’s a pipe dream, something so impossible it’s almost laughable.

Duke likes being friends with normal human Danny. He doesn’t want to imagine how he would react if he found out about Danny being half ghost, assuming this imaginary reveal happens without Danny being hunted down and cut open by GIW agents.

He’s still in hiding, always waiting for the worst as he stays in the apartment his friends (living and dead) had set up for him. The building is for ghosts so it technically doesn’t exists, which means it’s the safest place for Danny while he’s actively being hunted by the US government.

He can’t be honest with Duke. Can’t be as close to him as he wants to be. Duke deserves more than to be dragged into Danny’s problems and put in danger.

Even so, Danny can’t help but want him around, pushing his luck each time they hang out.

“Come on,” Danny urges, standing up. He pulls his hands away and Duke’s brow immediately furrows, his pain returning. “It’s only a few streets away.”

Duke sighs, then visibly braces himself before he stands up. Danny tucks himself into Duke’s side, taking as much of his weight as he can as he walks them down the street. It’s times like these that he wishes he could reveal his powers safely and just fly them to his apartment. But even without the GIW gunning for his head, showing off powers in Gotham is a sure fire way to get a target painted on his back.

“Almost there,” he says as they turn a corner.

His apartment doesn’t have a fixed address. It doesn’t have a fixed location at all, drifting around, but it likes this street the most, so this is where it usually is. Danny takes them halfway down the street, then turns into an alley, following his ghost sense.

Where there’s usually a dead end is instead a building, looking as if it’s always been tucked away in this alley. Danny keeps a tight grip on Duke as they climb the front steps, silently asking for the building to let him stay while he’s with Danny. The door opens easily, which is as good as an agreement, and they’re inside without anything going wrong. The small entrance lobby is empty, with an area for packages filled with clearly magical artifacts carelessly wrapped in bubble wrap.

Danny drags them past that quickly, hoping Duke doesn’t notice, and calls the elevator down. It arrives silently, the doors opening to let another tenant out. Carefully, Danny positions himself in front of Duke, making sure he doesn’t see how the tenant, who nods at Danny, has a still bleeding wound in his stomach that has him nearly split in half.

“Alright,” he says, ushering Duke into the elevator, “Just a little ride up and then you can lay down.” He hits the button for the fourth floor and they ride up in silence, Duke dropping his head down to onto Danny’s shoulder again, wrapping his arms around his waist as he stands behind Danny. He’s glad Duke can’t see his face; there’s no doubt that he’s blushing like crazy and if that doesn’t give away his feelings, he doesn’t know what will.

Thankfully the elevator ride isn’t long. If Danny had to go for more than a minute with Duke breathing softly against his neck, his warm hands on his stomach, Danny would have collapsed into a pile of flustered goo.

He opens the door to his apartment and kicks his shoes off. Duke follows in suit, still plastered onto Danny’s back, refusing to let go.

“Come on,” Danny says, leading him to the couch, “Sit down and I’ll grad you some water and painkillers.”

Duke nods against his shoulder, then slowly detaches himself from Danny and makes his way to the couch. He drops onto it gracelessly, pressing his face into a cushion.

Danny winces. He must be feeling really bad. He knows how bad migraines can be with sleep deprivation, having suffered through high school with only a few hours of sleep at night, if he got to sleep at all. Frankly, it’s a testament to Duke’s strength that he lasted the entire walk to Danny’s apartment without complaint.

He returns to the living room with a full glass of water and a bottle of Advil, setting them on the coffee table to crouch next to the couch and place a cold hand on Duke’s cheek. “Hey,” he says softly when Duke turns to look at him, “Is Advil alright? It’s all I had.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Thanks, Danny.”

Duke sits up and shakes out three pills, then washes them down with water. He drains the rest of the cup quickly, then falls back against the couch with his eyes squeezed shut.

“Is there anything else I can do to make you feel better?”

Duke immediately reaches a hand out for him.

“Um?”

“Sit next to me. I feel better when I’m next to you.”

“Oh! Alright. Bet you’re only saying that because my hands are cold.”

“You caught me,” Duke laughs, pulling Danny onto the couch. He goes easily, tucking his legs beneath himself, and places his hands on Duke’s temples again. “Man, I owe you my life.”

“I don’t think my cold hands are worth quite that much.”

Duke hums, but doesn’t say anything else, so Danny settles in and focuses on keeping his hands a little colder than normal.

The apartment is quiet. No sound from outside can reach them, one of the few ways the building looks after its tenants. Danny and Duke fall against each other, at ease with each other. There’s no need to fill in the silence, and with Duke’s eyes closed, Danny doesn’t have to carefully shove down his feelings and act normal. He indulges in the warmth of Duke’s body pressed against his, a hand on his knee and an arm around his waist.

He keeps his hands as steady as possible as he looks over Duke, adoring all the little details he can see; a small scar on his chin, the fullness of his lips, the way his hair falls into his face now that it’s long enough to keep in braids.

“I can practically hear you thinking,” Duke murmurs, “What’s on your mind?”

You’re cute, he thinks, I feel safe with you. I want to kiss you. I wish I could be brave enough to be honest.

I wish I was brave. I wish I was brave. I wish I was brave.

“Nothing,” he says. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah. I might fall asleep though.”

“That’s fine. You know I would never say no to a nap.”

“Come here, then,” Duke says, and before Danny can do anything, Duke gets a stronger grip on his waist and pulls Danny down on top of him as he falls back towards the arm rest and gets his legs on the couch.

“Duke!”

Duke laughs underneath him, and Danny can feel it roll through him. Okay! This is definitely something he’s going to think about… forever. Wow, he can feel Duke’s abs tense up as he laughs, and has he always been ripped? Unfair. Also unfairly hot.

“Is this alright?” Duke asks, voice soft and quiet. There’s a hesitancy around his words that Danny doesn’t like hearing, and he brings his hands down to sweep his thumbs soothingly over Duke’s cheeks.

“Of course it is, man. I’d never refuse cuddles.”

“Okay. I’m gonna pass out now. Wake me in an hour?”

Danny moves his hands back up to his temples and says, “Sure. Get some rest, Duke. You really need it.”

He feels Duke relax beneath him, breaths slowing down as he begins to fall asleep. It’s peaceful and quiet and Duke is warm in a way Danny never can be with his ice core. He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but curled up on the couch with Duke in the safety of an apartment that only barely exists has him drifting off in no time at all.

. . .

(Duke wakes up before Danny. Their legs are tangled together and Duke has moved during his sleep, turning so Danny is held tightly to his chest, his back to the cushions, while Duke is balancing very carefully at the edge of the couch.

It’s been hours, and he should be heading home soon, but he stays as he is, enjoying this quiet moment for as long as he can have it. Danny is in his arms, safe and content with him, his head no longer hurts beyond a residual ache he can easily ignore, and he can admire how pretty Danny is without being worried about Danny catching his lingering stares.

These moments are precious to him, rare as they are, and he wants nothing more than to kiss Danny once he’s awake and let his feelings be known.

But the Signal has lots of dangerous people after him, and Gnomon has started causing problems in Gotham again. So he’ll bite his tongue and keep his less platonic feelings buried under lock and key until it’s safe enough for Danny to be around him more often.

And when that time comes, he can only hope that Danny will feel the same way.

That’s all far away from the stillness of Danny’s apartment. All that matters is that he has Danny in his arms. Everything else can wait.

For now, this is more than enough.)

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #dpxdc fanfic #prompt fill #my writing #once again unable to resist the urge to write abt living buildings #duke and danny are pining no stop bc they're both like 'this is a bad time for a relationship/i have to keep too many secrets' etc etc #while also cuddling and going on dates that they dont call dates out loud and sighing wistfully when they think of each other #taking what small things they can while trying to hide their feelings....#some other batfam member is going to stumble upon them in public and chat a bit w dukes friend #then walk away texting the group chat like 'hey duke and his friend are madly in love but too shy/stupid to do something abt it.#lets play cupid lol' and then theyre all trying to get duke and danny together #it gets to the point that every time they hang out it ends with them doing some nonsense to escape the batfam and their kind but unhinged #attempts to get them together #thanks for the prompt!!!

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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 1 year ago

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I have request for Spencer Reid x Plus size fem!reader. Maybe her and Spencer are good friends and she gets stood up on a date or her date leaves after seeing her and Spencer swoops in and love confession.

p.s I love you work. <3

༉‧₊˚. 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

― pairing: spencer reid x plus size!reader

― summary: admitting that you got stood up on a date would be like admitting defeat, too bad spencer's too good of a best friend to let you go through this alone, even if he was the last person you wanted to see.

― warnings: best friends to lovers, getting stood up on dates, a red flag named chris (sorry to all the chris' out there), mutual pining, requited love, love confessions, and implied dates!

― wc: 1457

⋆ a/n: OH, MY GOODNESS IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I'VE WRITTEN AN ACTUAL ONESHOT. i got hit with a random bout of inspiration out of nowhere and i have a bunch of fanfics that already have banners made but they're unwritten and rotting in my drafts so i'm trying to clean them out first. thank you for this and i hope you enjoy some best friend!spencer reid!!

masterlist | AO3

Leave it up to you to be stood up on a date you didn’t even want to go on.

You weren't even looking for anything serious with someone, you just needed a distraction, you needed anything that would help you move on from him. It wasn’t Spencer’s fault that you were in love with him – well, it actually kind of is – but that’s beside the point.

There was no way you could continue to sit there and allow yourself to wallow in self-pity over the fact that your feelings for your longtime best friend weren’t reciprocated. You were a grown woman for God’s sakes! And as a grown woman, it was up to you to make grown up decisions. One phone call to Derek was all it took for you to get hooked up with some dude that he knew.

“He’s a good guy,” He said.

Yeah, right. Good guy your ass.

Not only did you look stupid, but you were left stranded in a sports bar surrounded by a bunch of strangers – no, scratch that! Almost all of the patrons in this bar tonight were men, it was football season. You were practically asking to get murdered! What kind of FBI agent would you be if you allowed yourself to be murdered over the fact that some guy’s team lost.

With a sigh, you gazed at your chat between Chris and you. You had sent him a text thirty minutes ago asking where he was when he was ten minutes late, but even that message had been left unread.

The only reason why you were still here was because you were oh so painfully embarrassed, and you hoped that others around you couldn’t tell that there was supposed to be a second person joining you at your very barren booth that you had somehow managed to score.

Now that you think about it, how in the hell had you allowed this man to talk you into going to a sports bar instead of oh, I don’t know, a restraunt with a calm, and comfortable atmosphere?

Maybe it was the fact that the only person’s face you could see in your mind as you discussed where you were going to go together was Spencer’s. As ashamed as you were to admit, you mostly imagined a disappointed look on his face when he realized you were going out with someone else, but even you knew that was damn near impossible.

It wasn’t your failed date that was the shit show – even though it is a close second – it was you that was the main attraction. How could you have allowed yourself to be this childish? You weren’t in high school anymore, and you hadn’t been in some years, but old habits die hard, you guess?

It didn’t have to be common knowledge to tell that your romantic life when you were in school was very, very sad. You often found yourself alone on most weekends, ample amount of time to study right under your fingertips. You figured that when you had gotten older things would have gotten better but… nope.

You didn’t know who to call.

Would you call Derek and blame him? No, he couldn’t have known, but you could totally get him to beat Chris’ ass. The thought of your favorite and very muscular chocolate thunder roughing the piece of shit up helped to easy your nerves, badly enough. There was just one person you couldn’t bring yourself to call, and that was Spencer.

Calling Spencer meant that you were giving up, that you were waving the white flag, that you were still in love with him and no number of blind dates, good or bad, could change that.

You bit the inside of your cheek in thought, at least you had dressed up in something comfortable.

“Can I sit here?” You heard someone ask over the bustling noise of the bar.

“Honestly, you can just have the thi–” You spoke without looking up, but when you did, your words died in your throat.

There Spencer stood in his full glory; tall, lanky, nerdy, and extremely uncomfortable, but nonetheless, he slid into the sticky seat across from you with an awkward smile.

“Spence? What are you doing here?” You asked in shock, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I uh- Morgan called me. He said that Chris told him to tell you something came up, but I uh- I figured that wasn’t true.” He explained sympathetically. You scoffed, your body slouching along with the noise. “Yeah, no shit.” Your words were bitter and harsh, which caused you to squeeze your eyes shut.

“Fuck, Spence. I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to talk to you like that, I’m just… frustrated.”

He reached out his hand, albeit reluctantly seeing as though the table was in the same state as the seat, maybe even a bit worse. You looked down at it then at him before relenting, your full hand slipping into his lithe one perfectly, as if it belonged there.

The fact that this felt so right made your stomach twist sickeningly, fingerings twitching in desperation to pull away. You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced yourself to stay. You did not have the mental compacity to dig yourself out of another hole.

“No, it’s okay. I understand.” He reassured, his thumb caressing the back of your knuckles gently. “I came as soon as he called,” He then looked around, “Especially after he told me where you were.” You laughed a bit at his concern, your body feeling lighter as it finally straightened.

A soft grin graced your features.

“Thank you, Spence. Really. I know how uncomfortable these kinds of places make you. I just- I really thought tonight was going to go differently.” I thought that things between us were going to go differently, is what you really meant.

“I’m sorry, I know you liked him.”

You grimaced at the word ‘liked.’

“I think ‘liked’ would be the last word I would use to describe how I feel for Chris.”

It was his turn for his eyebrows to furrow. “What do you mean.”

You huffed. “What I meant was that I didn’t even want to go on this stupid fucking date anyways, but I had too… I had too…” You allowed your words to trail off when you had caught yourself about to admit something you had fought years to keep under wraps.

“You had to what?”

Goddamn him and his never-ending curiosity.

“Just leave it alone, please?” You pleaded. You looked up at him from beneath your eyelashes, your gaze soft and vulnerable. “Okay.”

A silence – what was an equivalent to silence – settled over the both of you. The air was thick with unspoken words and feelings, an invisible line was drawn that the two of you were too scared to cross.

“I would’ve never stood you up, you know.” Spencer piped up quietly, his grip that had gone limp in yours tightening. “What?” Your breath hitched. “And I would’ve taken you to someplace nicer than this.” His voice was shaky and forceful, as if he was forcing himself speak in fear that if he didn’t, he wouldn’t say anything at all.

“What are you saying?” You were breathless, the butterflies that fluttered around in your gut making you nauseous. Hope bloomed at a dangerous rate in your chest.

“What I’m saying is that if I were to take you out on a date, it would be a lot better than this.” He had finally gotten the courage to raise his gaze instead of focusing on where your hands were interlaced. “I would take you anywhere you wanted to go, then I would try my best to make it memorable for you because I…” He gulped. “Because I love you.”

Your ears were ringing. There was sweat beginning to form on your hairline.

“You’re being serious?” The question sounded more like a plea. “Because if you’re saying this because you feel bad, I-” He cut you off. “I don’t feel bad.” He lowered his head to where yours was in an attempt to connect your gazes deeper.

“I really do love you. I- I have for a long time.” Spencer confessed.

You breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank God.” You said through a wobbly smile. His smile matched yours. You could feel the fact that both of your hands were extremely clammy with nerves, but none of you could find it within yourself to care.

“Can I cash in that date now?”

“Now?” He asked incredulously, lifting his free arm to check the time on his wrist. “It’s pretty late.”

You gave his hand a squeeze.

“I’m pretty sure we can figure that out.”

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @hallecarey1 @zippertwat @alixwriter

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fairykazu · 1 year ago

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MISSION IMPOSSIBLE: GETTING YOU UNDER THE MISTLETOE FT. XIAO contents // pining, friends to lovers, siblings! hutao & qiqi, requited love notes // this is mainly xiao's pov and he thinks you don't like him back. also, if it's not implied enough, you're aware that xiao likes you but you want him to make the first move. i kind of gave up at the end when i was building this up. baba - dad, gege - older brother & jiejie - older sister masterlist

it was nearly time for the christmas party xiao's family is throwing and of course, his best friend who he is not at all in love with, name is invited. name always have been coming to his family's celebrations but why does it feel different now?

maybe because his sisters are trying to insist him to finally confess the feelings, he has had harboring for 17 years. "xiao, you can't keep stumbling around and acting stupid around them because you like them. it's kind of hard to watch, right, qiqi?" hu tao said, turning to the 10 years old on the couch. she was about to answer until,

xiao rolled his eyes, crossing his arms, "don't answer that, qiqi."

qiqi closed her mouth as hu tao kept saying, "qiqi, you know i'm right. isn't it hard to see xiao kicking his legs and giggling after name leaves."

xiao's neutral bitch face morphed in fear, wallowing in self conciousness. is it really that bad?

the little lavender haired girl paused to think about it and sadly, to xiao's demise, "hmm... jiejie, i do think it's weird to see gege with cooties. i think uncle baizhu has medicine for it."

oh god, it really is that bad.

letting whatever qiqi said sink into xiao's shoulders, hu tao walked away to the closet, pulling out a white board stand. it squeaked, hu tao said, "exactly, which is why i made a plan." on the whiteboard, it said in bolded letters, "mission impossible: xianame christmas edition".

if you looked closely, you could see the faint words of previous "mission impossible"'s that xiao rejected and hu tao had to wipe off. xiao was nearly go along with the plan but skeptical of hu tao because usually, she's a trickster, there's always something up her sleeve.

"another plan?" xiao replied, furrowing a brow. hu tao skipped around, chirping,

"yep! this time it would work, i swear." hu tao's hand resting on the board's shelf.

"you swear? you said this last time on halloween last year and scared name nearly to death."

"i didn't scare them to death..." hu tao trailed off. "they only fainted."

"isn't it the same?" xiao asked. hu tao could tell that he was growing even more skeptical of the plan. as his sister, she knew that she needed to swerve away from that and push him into confessing. it's really embarrassing to see him try to make a move only to get rejected or mid-way change the plan.

"no! anyway, my new and foolproof plan is that since it's christmas," hu tao flipped the board with her other hand. "we can use the mistletoe as our advantage and use it for a romantic moment where you confess your feelings to name. i even asked dad about this and he agreed to it."

mistletoe? isn't that kissing?

"really, you got dad to agree to this."

"yes, and sure you might catch cooties." behind them, qiqi winced out of ickiness. "but better than nothing right?"

xiao stood there for a moment, rethinking about this. "are you sure it would happen perfectly? we don't even know if name likes me back."

"ummm, maybe the christmas spirit would enchant them." hu tao shrugged as xiao's eyes narrowed.

"i don't want a spirit to enchant them. that's not ethinical."

"xiao, don't shame on the spirits. they're very kind, y'know. anyway, the offer still stands but for a priceeeeee." hu tao replied, smiling. smiling like the devil, xiao knew something was up.

"what is it?"

"invite your second bestest friend ever over." hu tao chirped, hands together in a ball across her chest. she patted her eyes, coming closer to xiao, as xiao extended his hand out, creating a distance between himself and his sister.

"who?"

"yanfei!"

xiao tilted his head, hands still crossed. "yanfei? im not friends with yanfei."

"but if you want this plan to really work..." hu tao trailed off, hoping the bait she laid would catch her older brother. until qiqi said, "gege, i think jiejie has caught cooties too."

hu tao nervously laughed, "qiqi, i don't think-"

"ok, ill invite yanfei to the party but if this little christmas plan doesn't work, you're not allowed to make any more, got it?"

"oh my god, thank you sooo much, gege!! you're the bestest older brother anyone could ever have."

---

it was almost time for the party, the house was decked out with decorations. although the usual red and green theme is what christmas is, xiao's family preferred the gold and red theme. in the kitchen, gingerbread houses were prepped to be put together. as dad helped hu tao place mistletoes around the house, giggling each time. "dad, isn't this bow kind of off centered?"

"hm, i do think it is off centered. do you want me to fix it?" he asked, holding onto the ladder. hu tao replied with a no.

if you looked around you would see the each archway of a room would have a mistletoe, although, none of them are upstairs in their rooms. qiqi asked if she wouldn't be kissed because she didn't want to go to uncle baizhu's home for the vaccine for cooties. xiao made a mental note to tell baizhu to stop telling her that cooties exist when in reality, they are not.

xiao was pacing around the living room again, qiqi was following him like a little duckling. "gege, are you worried about the plan? i think i have vaccines for the cooties. i think though."

"no, it's fine, qiqi." he picked her up, holding her. "do you think it would go wrong?"

qiqi huffed, "no. i see name and they like you. i think i saw them-"

xiao tilted his head, "saw them what?"

"ah, i forgot."

xiao wilted a little.

---

as the house is fully decorated and hu tao busted her ass off to make it as romantic and christmasy as possible. the door rang, alerting everyone in the family to turn around. is it who xiao thinks it would be? name isn't late but they're not always super early. just before xiao reached for the door, hu tao squealed in delight, racing towards the door.

"hii name!!! and yanfei??? woah, did xiao invite you?" hu tao said, acting all coy as if she didn't try to puppeteer the whole situation. xiao noticed that yanfei's face was flustered. as he thought, huh, it is requited.

"ah, yes, i think so. i mean! yes, he did." yanfei yelped, clearly nervous but hu tao most likely saw her as perfect. xiao averted his eyes to you and god, he thinks you just killed him. from your sparking eyes to your bright smile, your little wave and he can't compute.

xiao.chr ran into an unexpected error 404

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

you walked towards xiao, confused as to why he's just dazing off into nothingness. hu tao's conversation with yanfei blurring to the sound of christmas music. you poked his cheek, "xiaoo...?" seeing him go from reality from dreamland, which is strange, it's more like the opposite for the two of you. "are you there?"

"ah!" xiao yelped, blinking. huh, you never noticed how long his lashes were. "sorry, i was thinking about something."

"i could tell. what were you thinking about so hard?"

"gege has cooo-" xiao covered qiqi's mouth, "i was thinking of my grades after finals." as qiqi kept trying to talk, he made qiqi walk to hu tao and yanfei. "qiqi has a weird phase of saying cooties. sorry about that."

"no, it's kind of endearing." you replied, walking into the kitchen. xiao saw the little mistletoe above the kitchen's archway, afraid of kissing you in the moment, he redirected you to his room. "my dad's preparing something to snack on and he doesn't like being disturbed. um, lets go to my room instead."

"huh? but your dad loves when people watch him cook so he's not lonely in there." oblivious to the fact that the mistletoes were hung everywhere, xiao knew that hu tao had forgotten his own room. "he changed his rules."

you quirked a brow, "don't lie?"

"i promise i'm not lying." xiao said, trying to make himself sound not lying at all. until qiqi's voice replied, "gege, why are you a liar? i can see from jiejie's room that your pants are on fire. baba loves when people watch him cook."

"see, xiao, i can see what you're trying to pull here." you said. ypu're getting too close. very much to xiao's liking but to make a move? nah, he's good. seeing and loving you from a distance is good for him too.

"what are you talking about?" xiao said, pretending to be oblivious to what you're saying. you sighed and pulled him closer to you. he could feel the warmth from your face. he knows he's flustered by now. "you know what you're doing."

what?? i dont understand.

"what??"

"aw man, i thought this would bait you into telling me." xiao laughed mostly out of fear and anxiety. "you're just as mischievous as hu tao."

why did he compare you to his sister. it's over.

"ha! if i really was, you would've died by now."

he exhaled, "you're right."

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

xiao was too caught up in the conversation he's having with you, he didn't know that he was right under a trap, the infamous mistletoe. you began to whisper, "look up."

when he did, his face paled as if he didn't agree with hu tao's plan to begin with. but unbeknownst to xiao, you set up this plan with hu tao. you always had even though you had every other chance to make a move on him, he always took it as platonic.

"oh." you pulled him closer,

"ready?" even though he was about to answer, you interrupted him with a kiss. wow you could've saved yourself 17 years of this but you liked to play the long game. xiao just stood there for a moment just before he returned the kiss.

the kiss moment was broken up by a loud flash sound and qiqi crying about how you two would catch cooties. "we need this for memories, can you kiss again for the family album?" hu tao asked as xiao pulled away from your embrace to yell at her. you laughed, winking at hu tao, pulling her brother away from her.

bonus:

zhongli started to console qiqi, cradling her into his arms, "cooties don't exist, qiqi."

"but, baba, uncle baizhu said, 'cooties are very contagious. to cure it i have to get the vaccine from his house.'" qiqi began to cry as zhongli wiped a tear from her face.

"baizhu likes to tease you since you are little-"

"baba! i am not little. i have two digits, i am older now."

"of course, you are a big girl now." zhongli comforting his daughter again, grabbing a gingerbread cookie from the counter. she takes it and cries,

"yes, baba! im a big girl and uncle wouldn't lie to me wouldn't he?" zhongli placed her on his lap, sitting on the couch. "well, no, of course he wouldn't. this is like how jiejie treats gege."

"ohhh."

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aislinrayne · 10 months ago

Text

[𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱] [𝔖𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱]

𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: Anthony Lockwood makes it through a late and relaxed morning, a leisurely afternoon well suited to reminiscing, and the earliest part of a normal evening before his luck runs out.

ℜ𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤: M

𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: They're idiots, your honour, unrequited pining (it's requited, they're just stupid), language, canon typical violence, only proof-read while sick

𝔄𝔲𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯'𝔰 𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢: I love me a good miscommunication trope, and coming up with ideas on how to make long-term mutual pining work is way too much fun, so finally figuring out both angles of what these two lovebird's dynamic was going to be was a major driving force behind this re-write hehehe I'm not sorry This chapter fought me every step of the way, and I had to split it into two parts so it wasn't outrageously long, but in the end I'm incredibly happy with the result! Chapter three will take place only a few minutes after the end of this.

Since this is where the 'slight au' part comes into play, I'm curious to see what you guys think of the world building in this one! Please feel free to leave any comments or questions if I was a bit vague on something, or if you just want to know more about this little headcanon universe of mine

𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 5.17k

⇠ 𝔓𝔯𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯

The sun has only just begun its descent towards the horizon, but the chill on the wind already cuts to the bone. In spite of the numerous layers of suit and coat, it bites into Anthony’s flesh.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” a woman calls out to him, loud enough to be heard over the chorus of cafe patrons hiding from the cold behind steaming cups of tea and coffee.

“I think I’d be better off not doing anything you would do, Luce,” he shoots a wink at her over his shoulder, holding the door open with his elbow to shoot a two-fingered salute at the ginger woman beside her laughing unabashedly at their playful bickering.

Lucy mutters a retort under her breath, a particularly colourful string of insults if the swat on the arm it earns from her girlfriend is anything to go by.

The door swings shut behind him, abruptly cutting off the sound of Norrie chastising her partner about ‘publicly decent language’ and leaving him with a pep in his step as he wanders towards Regent Street in the general direction of his favourite rapier shop.

Something about afternoon tea with his best friend and her girlfriend always leaves him feeling reminiscent, the water-colour splashes in soft shades of orange across the horizon only serve to heighten the feeling. His short walk to Mullet and Sons allows him some time to indulge.

A lot had changed in the six years since Lucy had joined himself and George at Lockwood & Co.. For one, they’d gained quite the reputation. Fittes and Rotwell were still most people’s first choice, but now you’d be more likely to hear their little agency recommended than Bunchurch or Tendy’s. He’ll admit, initially it seemed as though they were going to become infamous rather than renowned; between the disaster at Sheen Road, the disaster at Combe Carey, the disaster at–

Well, you get the point. It hadn’t looked promising.

Their luck had begun to change with the case of the Bone Glass, then eventually Aickmere’s, but it hadn’t felt like nearly enough. Those days had been filled with anxiety. Worst of all was the fear of his Talent fading, the uncertainty of what his life would look like without the thing he’d based every choice he’d ever made on. How was he supposed to survive in a world in which he couldn’t See? He’d been terrified of running out of time to achieve his dreams, petrified he would fail his family by never achieving anything worthy of their name. It was safe to say he hadn’t been in the best headspace.

The fear almost overwhelmed him as time rushed on towards his eighteenth birthday, made all the more unignorable by his experience watching Quill Kipps lose his own Sight. And while they’d found a solution for the retired Fittes agent in the form of Fairfax’s Ghost-Vision goggles, there was no replacement for the real thing.

And then the daunting milestone had come and gone with no discernible difference.

George was the next oldest. Over the course of that year his Talent faded slowly, then all at once. He hadn’t minded overmuch, the library had become preferable to being in the field somewhere around their fifth arson-related-incident. In his defence, Mrs. Manfield flying across her lawn like a bat out of hell screaming about her antique doily collection being smoke-stained would have been enough to traumatise anyone.

The following year had gone quite flawlessly, if he did say so himself. With George as their dedicated researcher, and Lucy and Anthony’s competitive spirits driving them to never fall behind each other in skill, they were capable of taking on a significantly larger number of cases. If they needed additional hands in the field for any particularly challenging jobs they’d enlist either George or Kipps with the aid of the goggles.

But by her nineteenth birthday, Lucy actually seemed upset that her Talent refused to fade. The boys had been confused by this at first, and while Lockwood had the sense to leave it alone, George had continued to question her. They’d found out the full story of how she’d come to be an agent when she’d finally broken down. She’d never chosen this life, and even though she loved her time with Lockwood & Co., she’d always been comforted by the notion that this life of fighting and fear had an expiration date. In contrast to his own relief and excitement at the prospect of never losing his Talent, she felt nothing but trepidation. George was watery eyed by the end of her confession, his lips pressed tightly into a thin line to prevent them trembling. Anthony felt like he might be sick. By the light of the numerous mismatched candles on Lucy’s lopsided birthday cake, they made a pact to pretend as though her Talent was fading, and phase her out of the agency within a year's time.

A few short months later, the first headline popped up in a small gossip rag. It wasn’t even one of his top five. Someone had taken notice of his remaining Sight at his advanced age, but hadn’t yet noticed their attempts to fake Lucy’s waning Listening.

In the days after the first article's publication, the obnoxiously loud business phone began ringing more often. Then, another article in a larger paper. Followed by another, then several more.

Anthony had to restrain George from ripping the phone’s cord out of the wall after one too many interrupted naps. The researcher moved in with Flo not long after, but still kept his room mostly furnished for the evenings he worked far too late to make it to their flat safely.

By the time their story had been told often enough for the media to lose interest, they had gone from having enough cases to keep them busy to too many to keep up with in what had to be some kind of record time. In light of the extra attention they had considered hiring another agent, but their options were slim and the thought of bringing in a child to fight their battles was surprisingly difficult to stomach. Anthony made a mental note to apologise to Barnes after that realisation, gaining some perspective on the man who’d tried so desperately to keep them away from the front lines.

Time felt more like an undefeatable foe in the six months that followed than it had at any previous point in his life. How was he supposed to keep taking on cases without anyone to watch his back in the field? Would he end up alone in this bloody house yet again? Despite the thoughts that haunted his darker moments, he knew he would let Lucy leave without any fuss. Even in the last weeks of her employment he knew he could never be selfish enough to ask her to stay. Though, had he known–

A street sign reading ‘Half Moon Lane’ interrupts him from his stroll down memory lane, heralding the end of his journey. The old building slumps under the weight of time. Even the paint on the window is chipped, almost removing the ‘Sons’ in Mullet and Sons. Although the storefront's outward appearance borders on decrepit, they have undeniably the highest quality rapier’s in London. The hinges shriek as he pushes the door open, alerting the proprietor to the presence of a customer.

“Ah, Mr. Lockwood! A pleasure, as always. How can I help you, my boy?” emerging from the back room, the white haired old man beams upon recognising him.

“Mr. Mullet, please, the pleasure is mine! I believe one of my agents placed an order with you recently? I’m here to pick up for her.”

After confirming her name and the details of the order, the old man teeters his way back into the room he’d just come from. When he emerges again, he does so with empty hands and a deep frown upon his face.

“It appears one of my sons has caused a touch of a mixup and sent your employee’s rapier home with another agent. I can place another order with our supplier, but I’m afraid it won’t arrive until the end of the month,” his tone is apologetic, but Anthony still has to fight the urge to groan in frustration.

“Mistakes happen, Mr. Mullet. We’re only human after all,” thankfully, he’s had plenty of practice schooling his tone over the years, “that being said… we’ve made commitments for this evening. I can’t very well ask one of my agents to walk into a haunted house unarmed.”

“Of course, I understand completely. Since you’ve been doing business with us for so long, I’m willing to offer a percentage off of any of our in stock models as a token of our apology.”

It’s a gracious offer, one Anthony is happy to accept. He defers to the expertise of the older man, allowing him to lead them from option to option within the dimly lit store.

Trying to choose such an essential tool for her without her input is a surprisingly daunting task, and he finds himself quickly overwhelmed. Searching for something to distract him until he can ground himself properly, he lets his eyes wander freely over the different kinds of metal glittering from mahogany shelves before they fix on a single standing display across the room. Driven by curiosity, he approaches the case to inspect its contents. What he finds nearly steals the breath from his lungs. Laying on a scarlet velvet cushion is the most beautiful rapier he’s ever laid eyes on. It has a fine silver blade, connected to an intricate swept hilt inlaid with gold leaves that wind around the counterguards and down the central ridge. When his eyes travel to the pommel and find her birth stone caged within golden vines, he begins mental preparations to re-mortgage the house. Thankfully, when Mr. Mullet wanders over to find him staring transfixed at the weapon, he gives him a knowing smile and cuts the younger man a deal he almost feels guilty accepting.

When he departs the shop, rapier tucked safely into a cloth wrap, the sun is dangerously close to the horizon.

Uttering a quiet prayer to the powers-that-be, he scans the area for a payphone. Luck is on his side today and he finds one rather quickly, tucked into a nook beside a cafe a few shops down. As he makes a beeline for it with purpose, he comes aware of the hairs on the back of his neck standing slowly to attention. At first it’s easy to brush it off as a result of the temperature, but the closer he gets to the booth the more the sensation builds. It feels like someone’s watching him. Stepping into the silver-glass encased rectangle, he lifts the phone from the receiver before pausing. Thinking quickly, he puts on his best thoughtful expression, pretending to have forgotten the number he needs to call as an excuse to let his eyes wander his surroundings. The droning of the phone waiting for input makes the entire situation feel even more unnerving.

Nothing glaringly obvious jumps out at him; no nefarious stalker in a trench coat peers at him from some dark alley, no one stares at him over the top of an upside-down newspaper. All his eyes can find is folks hurrying into their vehicles before the threat of darkness grows, shop workers locking their doors and flicking off their lights.

Scoffing at himself for allowing his paranoia to get the best of him, he dials a night cab. Though he’s quite certain he’d imagined the threat, he still refrains from mentioning his destination out loud. He hadn’t made it as far as he had by throwing all caution to the wind. Just… most of it. Before he can waste too much time chastising himself any further, he slams the phone back into place and turns with purpose to wait for his ride in the safety of the cafe.

Honestly, it’s a good thing he’s so dramatic. If he hadn’t insisted on doing the most theatrical spin, complete with the billowing of his coat as he exited the box, he wouldn’t have startled the man watching him from behind the corner of a nearby bookstore. The balding head disappears as the body it’s attached to ducks behind the brick wall. Anthony has several options, but very few of them are good. He quickly decides his best course of action is to pretend to be unaware of the man’s presence, electing to continue on to grab himself a tea whilst he plans his next move.

Watching the brilliant orange and scarlet glow of sunset, Anthony finds himself observing the comings and goings of vehicles outside the shop window. There’s an unusual amount of traffic for this time of day. He’d expect to see a large number flocking to their homes, seeking safety from the threats that come with darkness. But to see even two or three vehicles stop to park alongside the road this time of night was unusual.

The arrival of his cab shakes him from that train of thought, jumping the tracks straight to figuring out how to make it to Mrs. Roland’s house in decent time without being followed. He hadn’t seen another sign of the man since, but he’s not convinced the danger has actually passed. With a huff, he draws himself out of the comfortable chair. The cold air is no more forgiving now than it had been before. Allowing the warmth of the night cab to envelop him, he instructs the driver to begin a complex route to their destination in the hopes of losing those tailing him.

The sky is pitch black by the time they arrive, but his efforts seem to have been successful. While he’d thought for a moment one of the cars that started up as he’d exited the cafe might have been following them at first, there’s no sign now of anyone suspicious following behind.

Stepping out of the cab onto the curb, he takes a deep breath and tries to sort his thoughts before he dares to step foot into the house. Why, precisely, would somebody have him under observation? For once in his life, he can’t think of anyone who would have reason to. Pulling up the sleeve of his coat to check the watch on his wrist, he curses under his breath at the time. There’s going to be a lot of grovelling in his very near future. It’s nearly thirty minutes past six. She’s going to kill him, and he can’t even fault her for it.

He’s about to rush into the house when a set of headlights comes into view at the top of the street, nearly blinding him before cutting to blackness at the sight of his silhouette.

Bloody hell, that is the final straw. He’d done quite a fine job feigning ignorance until this point, but he has to draw the line at this level of obviously shady behaviour. If they’re this incompetent he can get to the bottom of the matter without the need for secrecy or strategy. He straightens to his full height, setting his jaw and turning to walk with confidence towards the sleek black car now parked roughly a hundred feet ahead of him.

The sound of glass shattering fills the quiet night air before he can make it more than halfway, stopping him dead in his tracks as he listens for any further sign of danger. Usually, the thought of his associate in any form of peril is more than enough to send him spiralling into an – admittedly unnecessary – protective frenzy. However, considering all elements of the present situation, he finds himself torn. Their interview with Mrs. Roland prior to the acceptance of the case had left them both confident the Visitor is a Type One, which she’s more than capable of handling herself, and if he doesn’t chase this lead down now–

An unholy shriek echoes down the street, sending chills down his spine.

Sketchy stalker-mobile be damned.

He turns on a dime, long legs carrying him across the lawn as if chasing his own shadow as the headlights behind him reignite and light his path. The golden beams veer away, the car pulling a sharp u-turn to flee the scene. If he wasn’t so worried, he’d probably be frustrated. He almost can’t stop fast enough to prevent himself from running face-first into the door when the handle refuses to turn. Swearing loudly, he jiggles it again to ensure it isn’t just stiff before he risks causing property damage. The screaming is making it hard to think, but he can’t quite put his finger on what about it is making him feel so unnerved. When it finally hits him, property damage is the least of his concerns. Barely audible beneath the unnaturally shrill sound, her scream is hoarse and pained.

He takes a full stride back, rocking his weight back on his left leg and lifting his right. His foot hits its mark directly beside the lock, the full weight of his panic-aided-strength sending it flying open. He can’t help but wince at the crunch of drywall, likely from the knob on the far side embedding itself in the wall, but he doesn’t waste any further time on it before striding into the house. Dead ahead, an electric lantern sitting on the kitchen counter bounces light off of the shining tiles covering the majority of the space. To his left is a small dining room with only a mid-sized table, four chairs, and a plethora of obnoxiously colourful paintings on the walls. Deciding having both hands free will be more conducive to survival, he dumps the cloth bag containing her new rapier on the table and rushes towards the commotion.

Between his relief at seeing her unharmed and the sheer comedic value of the expression on her face as she slides around the corner with arms flailing, he almost bursts into hysterical laughter. Thankfully, his self preservation instinct is strong enough to encourage him to duck behind the wall while he gets himself under control. Under normal circumstances he would let her exit the house rather than practically jumping out at her, but he can’t be sure there isn’t someone still waiting outside. And as a small bonus, if she’s already mentally signing his death certificate, he can’t make it any worse by making an entrance. He feels a grin spread across his features despite a valiant effort not to enjoy this too much.

“Sorry it took me so long, darling. Traffic was atrocious,” he has to bend to wrap an arm around her middle, but that doesn’t stop him. Instead of lashing out or screaming again, she catches him off guard by completely relaxing into his hold. A spark of protectiveness flares beneath his breast as the back of her head falls to rest on his collarbone and she lets out a shaking breath. In stark contrast to her usually unflappable nature, she trembles like a leaf. There’s no way a simple Type One put her in this state.

It takes all of his willpower to peel his arm from her waist, to offer her the only shield he can by tucking her safely behind him. He takes a deep breath in through his nose, exhaling slowly through pursed lips and drawing his rapier. It’s not enough to eliminate the intoxicating effect of her proximity, but it dampens it enough he can think clearer.

“Anthony John Lockwood, you fucking asshole! The sun set half an hour ago!” the rage in her tone fills him with relief, not even the impact of the flat of her hands against his back can take away from it. He’d obviously prefer if she were calm, but he’ll take anger over despair any day.

“Any idea what kind of Visitor we’re dealing with? Or what the Source could be?” he breezes past her outburst, not having to look over his shoulder to know if looks could kill he’d be dead on his feet.

He knew this routine like the back of his hand. She’d be angry at first, call him every name in the book, and then they’d move past it and get the job done.

Except there’s no scoff, no retort, no rapid fire insults, no reply of any kind. The silence is deafening. Taking back every scathing remark he’s ever made about Orpheus’ lack of restraint, he caves to the impulse and glances over his shoulder. He’d been right about the look, at least. The incredulous fury painted across her face might have been comical in another place, on another day. But there, just beneath the surface, was something he hadn’t expected to find; betrayal.

Shit. He’s really fucked up this time.

“Y’know what? Figure it out yourself,” the venom dripping from her tone feels like knives in his chest, “you would have had to if you’d been a minute later anyways.” Time comes shuddering to a halt. His pulse is deafening as it thunders in his ears. If he’d put her life in legitimate danger – regardless of the circumstances – he’d never forgive himself.

“What do you mean? What happened?” he manages to choke around the lump in his throat that feels suspiciously like his heart, turning to face her fully and reassure himself by searching every visible inch of her for any sign of injury. The urge to reach out and touch her, to feel her body beneath his hands and know for sure she isn’t being stubborn enough to hide some kind of fatal wound from him, is so strong his fingers burn.

After a few incidents involving him turning into a lovesick moron at the slightest touch from her early on in her employment, she’d gone to great lengths to avoid any form of contact with him. He’d come to terms with this, resigning himself to the idea of a life spent admiring her from arms length. So while she hadn’t seemed too opposed to having him in her personal space tonight, he had no intentions of pushing any farther and making her uncomfortable.

That was the plan, at least. But when screaming pierces the air once more, the colour drains from her face, and he watches her cave in on herself in an attempt to hide; he feels like this counts as extenuating circumstances. He takes a single large step forward, arms reaching towards her in unison. Her hands are over her ears, head tucked into her chest, elbows tight to her ribs. He allows his upper body to curl at the edges and cage her against him, hugging her head to his chest to muffle the noise.

Then, it stops. It’s hard to decide if the ghostly howling or ensuing silence is louder.

“You okay?” he murmurs the question, reluctantly releasing her to rest his hands on her shoulders and leaning down to try to catch her gaze in the low light. There’s merely inches between their faces when her unfocused eyes finally lock with his own. It’s hard to breathe without acknowledging they’re breathing the same air, but he files that thought away for later. He concentrates instead on tracing every one of her features with his gaze, every tensed muscle and line that may offer him some insight into her condition. She squeezes her eyes shut, blinking like she’s just woken up. When she finally focuses on him, her pupils blow wide as dinner plates. Her lips part, her small gasp the only disturbance in the air as he involuntarily holds his breath.

A sharp stab of heartbreak courses through him as she steps back abruptly, raising her palms in surrender. His poor heart stops dead for the umpteenth time today when he spots the dark spot on her hand. She tries to drop her arms, to move to put more distance between them, but his sense of urgency outweighs his better judgement as he grasps her tightly by the wrist. The chill of her skin beneath his does nothing to assuage his concerns as he pulls her across the kitchen to the light, ignorant to her protests through the haze of his anxiety. Their proximity to the light confirms his fear, and the crimson red of fresh blood staining her skin has his stomach rebelling against him. As soon as he drops her wrist she pulls it away and clutches it to her body, glaring daggers at him. He makes a mental note to beg for her forgiveness later, reaching for her face and watching shades of red begin to decorate her flesh as she reaches new levels of infuriation. Her skin is sinfully soft beneath the fingers that turn her towards the light and brush against her cheek, tucking the hair behind her ear to give him a better view. A cold blanket of righteous fury settles over him at the sight of the narrow crimson river running sluggishly down her neck, using his thumb to swipe it away. Murderous thoughts fill his head at the sight of the stain left in its wake, doubling in intensity at her expression when he shows her the smear of red highlighted by its contrast against his pale skin.

“Now will you tell me about it?” any attempt at a playful tone is harshly undercut by the tremor of rage in his voice, but she still laughs with less nerves than he’d expected.

She studies him closely, but he stares right back, too focused on making the bloody thing pay for hurting her to be self-conscious under her scrutinous gaze. After a short minute of this, understanding blossoms across her face.

“Through the living room, down the hallway - mind the runner, it’s slippery - the primary haunting is in the bedroom. Husband’s name was Harold Roland. There’s a painting on the left wall, initialed ‘H.R.’, psychic imprint like I’ve never seen. Twenty quid says that’s the Source,” she pauses, lost in thought with her eyes fixed on the ground, “Oh! And it’s probably obvious by now, but it’s definitely a Screaming Spirit.”

He can feel the corners of his lips quirking up as she drops the stubborn attitude.

‘Good girl,’ he wants to say.

“Your rapier is on the table,” he says instead, turning his back on her under the guise of watching the direction they’d heard the screaming from. In reality, he’d just needed an excuse to hide his blush and re-centre himself.

He’s so busy shaking the offending thoughts from his head and cursing himself out for allowing his mind to wander into unsafe territory that he’s completely blindsided by the burst of other-light lighting up the living room like a flash bang. He’s still blinking the blind spots from his eyes when rapid movement in his peripherals alerts him to the potential danger. The ringing of iron fills the air as he draws his rapier, muscle memory taking over despite his still spotty vision as he slices clean through the centre of the spectre mere inches from his face.

Behind him, the sound of her drawing her own blade drains anxiety he wasn’t aware he’d been feeling. As she takes her place beside him he admits to himself that nothing in this world feels more natural than having her at his side, trusting him to keep the Visitor at bay whilst he trusts her to strategize.

Despite being the newest member of their agency, Anthony trusts her instincts more than even his own most of the time. He’d figured out not long after she’d joined that she had a particular balance of empathy and intelligence - and a sixth sense he couldn’t really explain - that made her an asset in the field. Of course he’d never been dense enough to phrase it like that to her face, not after sticking his foot in his mouth with Luce all those years ago.

Her posture shifts almost imperceptibly, but it’s enough to tell him she’s finished piecing together a plan. All he can do now is hope she’s feeling generous enough to let him in on it.

The crisp clean sound of her new rapier sliding into its sheath suggests he might be out of luck. He’s considering whether or not it’s worth asking her directly when his brain sputters, then stalls. She steps back far enough he has no warning of her proximity until she presses herself completely against him, the surface area of her chest displacing against the back of his ribs in a way that leaves him feeling a little dizzy. As much as he really, really enjoys her hands dancing along his sides and hips, he can’t help but question her truly terrible timing as he fights to keep his blade in the air to ward off their ‘friend’.

“Follow my lead,” she says. It takes a while to filter through the dial-up connection that is his mind at that moment. He regains his composure just as she hurls the salt-bomb over his shoulder, realisation dawning on him in a flash similar to that of the silver fulminate as it collides with the ghost before him. So that’s what she’d been up to.

She’s off like a bullet the second the apparition dissipates, shooting past him and into the other room. In a rather impressive manoeuvre, she tucks and rolls to land on her side parallel to a horrifically sunny loveseat before shoving her arm beneath it as though searching for something. Of all of the things he could possibly expect for her to retrieve, a silver-net was not one of them. He adds that to the list of questions he has for her once they get this situation under control.

She’s back on her face and hurdling across the house like a bat out of hell when Mr. Roland decides to make another appearance in the form of a pair of ghostly arms emerging from the white walls. A stone drops in his gut when he realises there’s no way he can reach her before the grasping arms of the apparition wrap around her shoulders.

“DUCK!” he hollers, an iron taste filling his mouth. She immediately dives for the floor and–

He loses sight of her past the walls of the hallway.

The pounding of his heart drowns out the noises that follow, his legs carrying him across the house on autopilot. The cold air stings every inch of exposed skin as he closes the distance to the active haunting, but it’s not nearly as cold as the blood in his veins when he spots the telltale sparkle of silver on the rug outside the bedroom. He ducks to grab the net and sweeps through the doorway just in time to watch her body fly across the room.

Even the brutal screaming had paled in comparison to the sound of her head hitting the bed frame.

𝔑𝔢𝔵𝔱 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 ⇢

taglist (if your name is in bold, it wouldn't let me tag you!): @tessas4 @chloejaniceeee @shakespearseclipse @ettadear @kassandra1000 @stardust611 @ell0ra-br3kk3r

𝔉𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔞𝔤𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱, 𝔱𝔞𝔭 [𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢]

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mrghostrat · 1 year ago

Note

okay you may have answered this before, i have a memory of it but im not sure if it applied to the streamer au, but what are their ages?? cuz everything here would apply to young 20 year olds (roommates, unknown requited pining, content creation in general, etc) but it's hilarioooous to think that they're in their 50s and this still all applies.

i can imagine chat being FURIOUS that neither of them are noticing these things/knows about it/can see what's happening etc if they're older LMAO

THEY'RE ABSOLUTELY 50 COME ONNNNNN

if a 6,000+ year old angel can be this stupid then a 54 year old man dont stand a chance

#ineffable streamers #ask a rat

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qe-podfic · 10 months ago

Text

Want To Voice Act In A Massive Multivoice Podfic?

Characters That Still Need To Be Voiced:

AZIRAPHALE

CROWLEY

ANATHEMA

NEWTON

BEELZEBUB

GABRIEL

MURIEL

SANDALPHON

WARLOCK

Quantum Entangled

Fic Summary:

They fit together like the answer to a question they didn’t know they were asking. Two jigsaw puzzles made by the same cosmic company. Each, a distinct picture on its own, but cut from the same lithographic template so that the pieces could be intermingled into amalgam artworks. Monochrome individually, but a beautifully stark contrast together. Contradictive in their antithetical sameness. Crowley was fucked. Oh, he was so utterly fucked. --- AKA the inherent homoeroticism of co-authoring a paper.

Rating: Mature

Words: 51,266

Relationships:

Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Anathema Device, Crowley & Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Beelzebub & Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Gabriel (Good Omens)

Characters:

Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens), Anathema Device, Newton Pulsifer, Beelzebub (Good Omens), Gabriel (Good Omens), Muriel (Good Omens), Shax (Good Omens), Sandalphon (Good Omens), Warlock Dowling

Additional Tags:

Slow Burn, Alternate Universe - Human, Pining, Mutual Pining, academic!au, sloooooooow buuuuurn, the inherent homoeroticism of co-authoring a paper, Schrodinger - Freeform, Quantum Mechanics, Matchmaking, matchmaking the matchmakers, most of the characters are from GO, but there is one friendly Ukrainian grandma OC, Fluff, Miscommunication, Light Angst, Banter, Humor, Crowley is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Aziraphale is somehow Worse at Feelings (Good Omens), Requited Unrequited Love, they're so stupid, They're literally scientists but they're so STUPID, The Bentley Ships It (Good Omens), Fake/Pretend Relationship, Jealous Crowley (Good Omens), Jealous Aziraphale (Good Omens), There Was Only One Bed

Language: English

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inevitably-johnlocked · 1 year ago

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hey steph!! would you happen to have any 'medium burn' (slow burn for the impatient) Johnlock fics? preferably minimal to no spice and a happy ending is a must! my weak heart can not bear an angsty ending :<

Thank you for all you do here <3

Hey Nonny!

HAHAHAH AHHHHH YES. The Medium Burn, huh. I never thought of calling my shorter "slow burn" fic lists Medium burn, but like... that's a good thing to call it! Because you don't have to wait too long to get it, hahha!

Ah, let me collect all the shorter fics on my Slow Burn Fics Lists and compile them here! I provide ratings for all of them, and chose to keep under.... 25K, let's say! If you're here on my blog, I'm guessing you can read through my lists like eating candy, so 25K is nothing hee hee.

I tag all my fics, so feel free to ignore the Ratings and Sad tags that you don't want to read <3

MEDIUM BURN FICS (Slow Burn Under 25K w.)

New Year, New Beginning by DaisyFairy (T, 810 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, New Year’s Eve, John POV, Friends to Lovers) – New Year at a crime scene and John makes a decision.

Ex by Itsallfine (T, 1,248 w., 1 Ch. || Angsty Fluff, Love Confessions, Coming Out, Exes, First Kiss, Fake Relationship, Getting Outed) – One night, in the midst of their post-case high and on the cusp of something more, John and Sherlock run into John’s ex. His ex-boyfriend.

In Dreams by Youarethelightoftheworld (T, 1,340 w., 1 Ch. || Falling in Love, Accidental Cuddling, Snuggling, Fluff, Romance, Domestic Fluff) – Every once in a while, the dark makes it easier to see.

There's Always Three of Us by Itsallfine (T, 1,765 w., 1 Ch. || S4 Fix It Fic/Post TFP, Parentlock / Rosie, Angelo’s, First Kiss, January 29, Love Declarations) – Sherlock takes John and Rosie out to Angelo's and gets a chance to correct the biggest mistake of his life.

Want by siennna (T, 1,806 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Pining, First Kiss Requited, Second Person POV Sherlock) – When John speaks, you hear more than words. You hear the rise and fall of his tone, the comfortable quake of his laughter, the warm pauses of silence in between. When John laughs, there are stars glittering on his tongue and galaxies resting just behind his teeth, and you wish you could press your lips there and burrow into the warm sound. Part 6 of sienna’s favorites

100 ways to say 'I love you' by Teatrolley (NR, 2,143 w., 1 Ch. || Slow Burn, Fluff, Domestics) – Sherlock sleeps with John’s body next to him, and wakes up to find him making them both toast in the kitchen with sleep still sitting in the corner of his eye, and he holds on tight to every little intimacy that John gives him; every little small moment, every little fond smile. It could be enough. Still, he’d like more. But Sherlock Holmes doesn’t know how to ask for things. Luckily, John does. In which there are a hundred phrases and none of them are ��I love you.” Until they are.

The Marriage Proposal Negotiation by Goddess_of_the_Night (G, 2,161 w., 1 Ch. || Dev. Rel., Possessive Sherlock, Insecure Sherlock, Fluff, First Kiss, Post Mary) – Sherlock hasn't ever really done anything the traditional way, so of course it wouldn't bother him to propose to John even though they're not even dating. And the fact that John is already on a date with someone else when he decides to do it? Tedious.

Rooftop Confession by Random_Nexus (T, 2,514 w., 1 Ch. || Ace Sherlock, Developing Relationship, Friendship / Love, Angsty Fluff) – Sherlock asks John to join him for a slightly unexpected discussion.

BBCSH 'How To Save A Life' by tigersilver (T, 2,784 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss, Angsty Schmoop, Requited Love) – Pining, requited, and unabated spates of 'first kiss' fluff. Post Mary, AU, mildly cracky. John lays a smooch on Sherlock's nape in passing. The world does that thing it does when it wobbles and Sherlock practically falls off his own pins. Part 1 of 'How To...'

What He's Like by magikspell (E, 2,919 w., 1 Ch. || Love Confessions, Fluff, First Time, Inexperienced Sherlock) – Realistic first time. They love each other so much.

Once is Enough by Jominerva (T, 3,030 w., 1 Ch. || Love Confessions, Domestic Fluff, Whump) – Just as the earth rises to meet the sun at every mountain crest, John reaches out for Sherlock and takes his hand in his own."Tell me it won't end like this," he says, blue eyes holding grey while he laces their fingers together. Sherlock lets out a shaky laugh and shakes his head. "I wish I could."

A Bit of Indulgence by beltainefaerie (NR, 3,364 w. || Fake Relationship, Pride Parade, Declarations of Love, Fluff, Dev. Rel., Case Fic) – A case leads John and Sherlock to fake being boyfriends and John runs into an old acquaintance.

Hope Springs Eternal by QuinnAnderson (T, 4,054 w., 1 Ch. || Friends to Lovers, Pining Sherlock, Vacation, Anxious Sherlock, Love Confessions, Fluff, Requited Love) – John Watson and Sherlock Holmes go on holiday, and Sherlock has romance on the brain.

How Will I Know? by eragon19 (E, 4,895 w., 1 Ch. || Pining, Love Confessions, POV Sherlock, Fluff, Sherlock’s Imagination, Papa Lestrade, Masturbation) – Here was the problem: Sherlock Holmes was completely and irrevocably in love with John Watson, and he had absolutely no idea how to tell him.

changing tides by simplyclockwork (M, 5,983 w., 1 Ch. || Substance Use, Drug Relapse, High Sherlock, Sherlock Falls Down Stairs / Injury, Caring John, Drugs, Oblivious John, Hurt/Comfort, Angst With Happy Ending, Acceptance, Pre-Relationship, Addiction, Starting Over, Self-Destructive Behaviour, Drugged Hallucinations, Forehead Touching, Sherlock POV) – If Sherlock were to stop to think about it, he might wonder if he’s simply lonely. He doesn’t stop to think about it.

Closeted by sussexbound (T, 6,115 w., 1 Ch. || Love Confession, First Kiss, Games, Trapped in a Closet) – Sherlock and John get trapped in a closet while on a case. Some revelations are made while they play a game to pass the time. Part 1 of Intimacy

Full Disclosure by Itsallfine (E, 7,032 w., 1 Ch. || Bars & Pubs, Fake Relationship, First Kiss / Time, Love Confessions, John’s Army Mates, Three Continents Watson, Semi-Public Sex) – John’s army mates get together for the first time post-discharge and invite John “Three Continents” Watson to join them. If John shows up alone, he knows he’ll be the object of non-stop ridicule all night. Sherlock plays along. John tests the waters.

A Lifetime Together by LondonGypsy (M, 8,886 w., 1 Ch. || Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Falling in Love, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Pining Idiots, Alternating POVs, Domestics, Retirement) – John and Sherlock falling in love.

You fit me, Sherlock Holmes by orphan_account (G, 10,077 w., 1 Ch. || It’s An Experiment, Bed Sharing, Slow Burn, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Questionable Science) – An unfortunate series of events leads to John accepting being a part of Sherlock's study in physical intimacy. As the days pass by, John realizes he might be in for more than he bargained for. He doesn't entirely mind.

Their Great Reward by BeautifulFiction (T, 10,095 w., 1 Ch. || UST, First Kiss, Fluff) – Boxing day, in John's opinions, is the worst day of the year. Christmas is over, the tree is wilting and stripped of gifts, and there's a week of dead-time until the clean slate of the new year. However the combination of a blizzard, a power-cut and Sherlock might just make it a day to remember.

Down with this Ship by FrostedFlame (PinkOrchid) (M, 10,862 w., 10 Ch. || For a Case, Gay Bar, Pining, Coming Out, Slow Burn) – Sherlock drags John undercover to a gay bar - for a case, of course - looking forward to seeing John flustered by their surroundings (since you know, he's NOT GAY). John decides that he has hidden both his orientation and his feelings for his daft flatmate for far too long. He is done hiding, time to be honest with his bloody best friend in the world. He just hopes it won't change anything between them. And then it does.

Iris by slashscribe (E, 11,948 w., 1 Ch. || Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Post-S3) – Sherlock does his best to make John happy when John comes back to 221B with his new baby after the events of Season 3, but Sherlock has a track record of getting things wrong in this area. This story is an exploration of their gradual shift from friends to lovers, told from Sherlock's perspective, full of a lot of pining and lack of emotional awareness.

I See You Through by belovedmuerto (T, 12,078 w., 8 Ch. || Psychic AU || Empath John, Alternate TGG, Whump, Nightmares, Bed Sharing, Slow Burn, Pre-Slash) – John has never asked Sherlock about his past, his childhood, the reason he quails in lonely misery almost every time he sees his brother. He’s never needed to. Part 2 of An Experiment in Empathy

The Slow Burn by CaitlinFairchild (E, 12,097 w., 4 Ch. || Romance, Emotional Infidelity, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock POV, First Kiss/Time, Fix-It) – John smiles, something small and private and for him alone, and Sherlock just...he knows. With a heart-stopping certainty, Sherlock suddenly knows. It feels like falling off the edge of a cliff. It feels like falling off the edge of the world. It feels like flying.

holding steady by darcylindbergh (E, 12,724 w., 4 Ch. || Post S4, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Growing Old, Gone Fishing, Mood without Plot, Soft Sherlock, Caring Sherlock, POV John Third Person, Anxious Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Touching, Feeling Old, Sherlock Worship, Crying Sherlock, Cuddles, Comforting, Introspection, Retirement, Hand Holding, Forehead Kisses, Caring John, Bed Sharing, Emotional Love Making) – Sitting on a thick wool blanket at the end of a rickety dock side-by-side, legs dangling over the edge, a styrofoam container of wet, dark dirt between them, they’re fishing. John knows what this is about. This is about finally figuring it out.

Speaker for the Bees by antietamfalls (M, 14,649 w., 3 Ch. || Deaf Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Fluff, Sign Language) – It isn't always easy assisting a deaf detective. Luckily for John, they make a pretty good team.

Merlot by Itsallfine (E, 14,844 w., 17 Ch. || Christmas, Pining Sherlock, Wine, Slow Burn, First Kiss / Time, Love Confessions, Wine, Holmes Family) – Sherlock and John work toward becoming something more as they prepare to host the Holmes parents at 221B for the holidays. Part of 25 Days of Fic-Mas 2015.

A Hooligans’ Game Played By Gentlemen by scullyseviltwin (E, 15,213 w., 1 Ch. || First Time, Rugby as Foreplay, Porn with Lots of Plot, John POV, Ogling, Body Appreciation, Cranky Sherlock, Slow Burn, Bed Sharing, Cuddling, Touching, Heavy Petting, Blow Job, Botttomlock) – In which John wants to get back in shape, does so, joins a rugby league and has sex with Sherlock Holmes. In that order.

Pleasure to Burn by scullyseviltwin (E, 17,863 w., 1 Ch. || Firefighter AU || Firefighter John / Arson Investigator Sherlock, Slow Burn, Pining, Case Fic-ish) – “If you’d kindly stop knocking about in there and destroying all of my evidence, it would be most appreciated!” John groaned and for a moment rested his head against the side of the truck. Of course he was the only captain left on the scene, which meant he would have to be the one to deal with the arson investigator.

Anytime by SilentAuror (E, 17,995 w., 1 Ch. || UST, Porn With Feels, POV Sherlock, Romance, UST/URT, Happy Ending, Drunken Endeavours) – Sherlock blinks and attempts to focus. There is a little too much vodka in his veins at the moment and it’s having an unfortunate effect on his brain and retinas both. There are two Johns sitting across from him, and both of them are frowning at him. “You’re drunk,” the Johns tell him. Sherlock blinks some more. “Says the man with Mrs Hudson’s doily on his head.”

Permanent Fixture by vitruvianwatson (E, 18,836 w., 9 Ch || Post-S4, Parentlock, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, They’re Good Parents, Blushing Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Explicit Consent, Sexual Content, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Big Feelings, Crying, Fluff, Anxious Sherlock, Inexperienced Sherlock, Emotional Communication, Love Confessions) – Now, as Rosie sat curled up against Sherlock’s side, John watched and wondered exactly how he had ended up here. Domesticity had never suited him before, not at any point in his life. His disastrous marriage had been proof of that. But somehow, here in the warmth and safety of 221B Baker Street, here with Sherlock Holmes reading medical jargon to his daughter, Sherlock’s bony feet nudging against his leg, John couldn’t imagine anyplace that would make him happier.

The White Lotuses by SilentAuror (E, 20,340 w., 1 Ch. || Slow Burn, Domestic, Romance) – One day John realises that he just isn't where he belongs, which is back at Baker Street with Sherlock. So he goes back and Sherlock, in his own way, courts him. Romance.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

whiskies neat by Ellipsical (E, 20,660 w., 15 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, POV Second Person Sherlock, Slow Burn, One Night Stand, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Anal, Soldier John, Crying, Emotional Lovemaking, Switchlock) – Home and hearth and whiskies neat, or, alternatively, Sherlock Holmes falls in love.

Once More, With Feeling by cellard00rs (T, 21,178 w., 7 Ch. || John’s Family, Fake Relationship, Romance, Fluff, Humour) – To put off his meddlesome, matchmaking mother, John convinces Sherlock to play the role of his significant other. Unparalleled awkwardness ensues.

Ghost Stories by SwissMiss (M, 22,256 w., 1 Ch. || Pining, Holmes Family, Christmas, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, First Time) – Sherlock's parents think he and John are a couple. They might be onto something.

You Can Imagine the Christmas Dinners by ardenteurophile (T, 23,584 w., 9 Ch. || Pre-Slash, Drama, Fluff & Angst, Humour, Romance) – Sherlock takes John along for Christmas dinner with Mycroft and Mummy (And "Anthea", too). Over the course of the evening, John realises that everyone in the room - apart from him - seems to think that he and Sherlock are a couple. Part 2 of Xmas Dinners Verse

Tomorrow's Song by agirlsname (M, 24,645 w., 5 Ch. || Post-TRF, POV Sherlock, Angst with a Happy Ending, Virgin / Repressed Sherlock, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Pining, Jealous Sherlock) – How can he think a relationship with me would be a good idea? I am the sort of person to take a break from my life and when I come back after two years, I expect to find it exactly as I left it. In reality I find it shattered to pieces. (I actually equate you with my life. When did I start doing that?)

State of Flux by Atiki (E, 24,655 w., 4 Ch. || S3 Fix It, Sherlock POV, Slow Burn, First Kiss/Time, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Cuddles and Snuggles, Awkwardness, Insecure/Virgin Sherlock, Romance, Humour, Masturbation, Love Declarations, Bottomlock, Brief Suicidal Ideations) – John’s marriage is over and he is finally back home (i.e. at Baker Street, where he belongs). Sherlock is awfully insecure and John is awfully hesitant, and they’re both awkward idiots, of course, but they figure it out. Many First Times happen.

#johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #slow burn fics #under 25k fics #long post #medium burn fics

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fabaceous · 2 years ago

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do you think jackieshauna could've gotten together eventually if the plane didn't crash/if jackie hadn't died or were they doomed from the start?

hi anon i know this took a while (sorry) but it's because this is one of my favorite cans of worms to open and i had a lot to say. so thank you for giving me an excuse to talk about it ;)

my answer, depending on the day and my mood, ranges from NO to YES, BUT to NO, BUT.

NO, because i think that even on a pure friendship level they are doomed. their flaws were like, designed in a lab (or a writer's room lol) to tear them apart. jackie is insecure and holds on too tightly to shauna. shauna quietly resents jackie for it and fucks around behind her back. as long as they have these traits, their relationship is a ticking time bomb. they will never make it within ten miles of a romantic relationship because even their friendship is doomed.

NO, because even if their friendship doesn't implode, they are both simply too damn repressed to ever make a move. im not even saying this as a cop-out, like, i truly believe in my heart and soul that they both have latent romantic feelings for each other but they tie themselves in all sorts of pretzels to avoid it and i'll go even further and say they are both REALLY FUCKING GOOD AT IT. like more so than most people. given my own experiences denying my (in hindsight incredibly obvious) feelings for girls (and i SUCK at repressing things) i have no doubt at all that they could go the rest of their lives convincing themselves that some girlfriendships are Just Like That. the human mind is a very powerful thing and the human mind on comphet and repression? nearly unstoppable. and even if they dont have some world-shattering blowout, and their friendship just sort of fizzles out for some nebulous and ambiguous (read: gay yearning related) reason, years later they'll still be looking back at their relationship saying Huh. Wasnt That Weird...Well...Nevertheless...I'm Sure It Was Nothing To Worry About...

like, okay, im gonna spend a little more time with this one because i think their repression is so key to their dynamic. jackie is obviously unable to face any aspect of herself that is even remotely imperfect. gay feelings for shauna would definitely fall into that category given what i assume she has internalized from her parents and her peers and it being the 1990s. shauna, while more willing to accept her dark side, cant bear the thought of wanting jackie like that. its the one bridge she cant cross. she'll literally fuck jeff. fucking JEFF!!! before she lets herself act on desire for jackie (at least not in a straightforward/normal way lol)

i think both of them on some level must feel that they have a desire for each other, or else they wouldn't be so desperate to avoid it. but they are SO desperate to avoid it, and i don't really have anything to back this up other than my gut feeling but i just can't imagine them ever overcoming their respective hurdles of repression, and definitely not under normal high-school circumstances. MAYBE in the wilderness they would've had a chance IF THINGS HAD GONE VERY DIFFERENTLY because they would be free from societal expectations or whatever, and maybe a life or death situation could've given them enough of a shock that they'd finally own up to their feelings. but EVEN THEN, personally, i think it's still questionable. i think this is just so deeply rooted that it would be anywhere from incredibly difficult to impossible for both of them to get past it. (it's no good if only one of them overcomes the repression, btw. then you just have unrequited pining (but secretly actually requited but the other person won't admit that they're requiting it so it's effectively unrequited which would be perhaps even worse and more painful. btw. if you even care))

now on to the other options...

YES, BUT, even if by some miracle they were able to get past their repression and date each other, i guarantee you all their toxic habits would be not only repeated but MAGNIFIED by being in a romantic relationship. like, ok, the good news is, they would finally be free to be openly obsessed with each other lol. but... imagine jackie gets EVEN MORE insecure about shauna leaving her because now she actually feels like she has a legit claim on shauna being "hers". before, her possessiveness (for lack of a more nuanced term) was tempered by the fact that they are just friends, and shauna should theoretically be allowed to have other friends, even if jackie doesn't like it. but shauna should NOT be having other girlfriends. so jackie would likely be reaching new levels of terrified of shauna leaving her. shauna would still be unable to address conflict directly. rinse and repeat this whooooole vicious cycle until it blows up in their faces like laura le--[gunshot]

finally, NO, BUT, and this one may be controversial & a bit more far fetched than the others, but i do think that under the right circumstances they could kiss or even fuck without it compromising their repression. i actually even think they could have a sort of sneaky situationship while still repressing their bigscaryfeelings for each other. HEAR ME OUT. they are both very careful about compartmentalizing their desire for each other and keeping it hidden FROM THEMSELVES. they often fail and it boils over despite their best efforts, but the more important thing is that they think they're succeeding at keeping their desire from breaching containment. and as long as they have that plausible deniability where they are hiding it from themselves, even if they don't manage to hide it from the rest of us (or even each other), i dont think its impossible for them to act on the desire, like, on pure instinct, but without actually intellectually or emotionally acknowledging the larger implications that that brings. and even if the desire breaches containment, they could still find a way to write it off as just desire in general and not desire for each other specifically. especially when they also still have the excuse of being horny teenagers with no impulse control, they could easily brush it off as, oh, we were just drunk, we were just experimenting. or even, oh, it was just shauna, it's not like i actually LIKE-like her, i just made out with her, but its shauna, so it obviously doesnt mean anything.

and i think they could even do this consistently for weeks months MAYBE up to a year or so, while deluding themselves into thinking this is somehow normal or not a big deal. because they have already proven they are masters of doublethink and repression, otherwise we wouldn't have gotten this far lol. but it would 100% also blow up in their faces. the question is, who would crack first? who would want something real? or who would walk away because it got too real? theres sooo much to ponder with this particular scenario and it's all very juicy and compelling (and GOD would i love to see it unfold with my own two eyeballs, can bart and ashley please write and film an AU of their own tv show?!) but i dont think it would ever lead them anywhere good or healthy.

so long story short (lol. conciseness has never been my strong suit as is probably abundantly clear by now) i personally do not think there is any possibility of a satisfying happy-ending scenario for these two. and i personally am perfectly okay with that because so much about them would have to change in order for them to get a happy ending that at that point, they would no longer be the jackie and shauna that i know and love.

#anon did this answer your question. lol. sorry or you're welcome #also if anyone has anything to add. PLEASE i beg #whether its backing me up or refuting me id be curious to hear #esp about the last one lol i have no idea if that made sense or not the way i explained it #yellowjackets #yj asks

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deepspacedukat · 1 year ago

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Misfit Toys - Part 3

Alright! Here's the conclusion! I hope you all enjoyed reading this little fic as much as I enjoyed writing it! 💖 There are a few unintended side things that happen in this chapter, but I hope y'all will enjoy it anyway!! By that I mean whoops I accidentally created yet another OC.

Part 1 here. Part 2 here.

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Tokath (ST:TNG) x Reader

[A/N: This is smut adjacent, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Interspecies romance, Human/Romulan romance, implied interspecies sex, implied Human/Romulan sex, mutual pining, they're idiots who think it's unrequited, it's VERY requited, flirting, some almost kisses, getting lokblocked, literally everyone can tell they're in love except them, they are the last people to find out about each other's feelings.

~*~

I hadn't needed Tokath's crutch in nearly a month, but it had earned a place of honor. Resting lovingly on a bookshelf in my bedroom, it served as a reminder of the progress I'd made...and of the fact that I now had somewhere that I belonged.

After all this time, it still felt strange to know that I had a home this amazing. The reaction to the news that I'd decided to stay instead of boarding the transport and leaving the Carraya system had been so joyful on the part of my new friends that I'd been moved to tears. None of them had been irritated that I'd chosen to remain with them.

Ta'lana even clapped a hand on my shoulder and grinned as she offered me a permanent position helping her concoct her salves. I accepted, of course. How could I not? Her companionship was so easy and natural that I'd have been a fool to refuse. Not to mention I owed her and Tokath my life for healing me after the crash.

Speaking of Tokath, as soon as he gave me permission to stay, I felt as though a weight had been lifted from my chest. There was no longer a lingering feeling of guilt and selfishness resonating through me every time I stole a glance at him. Oh sure, I was still on the verge of berating myself for behaving like a schoolgirl with a crush, but I'd realized that since I was now a permanent resident in this settlement, I had every right to live however I chose. If I wanted to bask in the warmth of the Romulan Commander's smiles, then that was exactly what I'd do.

I was afforded that opportunity quite often. More often than not, we managed to sneak in a little time together in the mornings before the day truly got started. Even if it was just enough time for us to share a cup of tea and breakfast, Tokath and I always seemed to gravitate toward each other.

There were still plenty of mornings where we woke up in each other's arms on the sofa in his study, and those were admittedly my favorites. He was nearly always awake before I was, but he never moved to get up first. The lingering caresses left on my skin before the break of dawn made me wish that I was a more courageous person. More than once I came incredibly close to blurting out my feelings for him in those slow, gentle morning hours. It was a wonder that he hadn't yet noticed.

There was definitely a slight shift in our relationship when I begged him to allow me to stay, though I couldn't define what it was. Our interactions were just as they were before but the burden on his shoulders seemed...lighter, somehow, despite the addition of a new member of the community. Maybe he just liked having a friend with a new perspective to discuss...

If only he knew how much that new friend wanted to kiss him when the morning sunlight poured in through the study window and glittered in his eyes. Resting atop his sturdy chest, half-dazed and half-witted from having just woken up, the temptation was almost overwhelming most mornings. Instead, I would simply nuzzle farther into his chest or the crook of his neck and breathe in his scent until I was certain I could trust myself to look into his eyes again.

One of those mornings, the rain cascaded down, splattering against the windows and creating a soothing rhythm against the roof. I was loathe to get up, and Tokath seemed even less inclined to do so, until a knock sounded at the door.

With matching pair of begrudging sounds, the two of us sat up, and Tokath called for whoever it was to come in. Belatedly, I realized how bedraggled we must look. M'Ven took a single step inside, saw our mussed hair and state of dress, and blushed as he delivered his message.

"My apologies for the intrusion, sir, but I thought you might like to know that your daughter's shuttle has just entered sensor range. She should be here within the hour." Almost as soon as he'd finished speaking, M'Ven tossed me a friendly wink and left us to our own devices.

A joyful smile spread across the Commander's lips as he turned to me.

"You and Ba'el would get along so well! Would you like to come with me to greet her?" He looked so hopeful. How could I possibly refuse? Without a single thought, I reached up and brushed a few errant strands of hair behind his ear. When his hand covered mine against the side of his face, I realized how close we still were to each other.

Oh, the urge to kiss him was back stronger than ever!

"I wouldn't want to intrude on your time with her–"

"Hush, e'lev. You could never intrude," he said, "and if you're not uncomfortable with the notion, I'd love for you to be there."

Tokath's hand kept mine firmly in place while I took a deep breath.

"I'd be honored." If I thought his smiles had been beautiful before, I'd clearly never seen him this utterly filled with joy. Tugging me into a crushing hug, the Commander let out a relieved breath. Did he really think I'd refuse?

After having bathed and changed into clean clothes, we arrived at a clearing in the woods that Tokath called the 'landing strip' just in time to see his daughter's shuttle touch down. The rain had stopped just a few minutes before, giving way to a thick, murky fog. Almost as soon as the shuttle's engines cut off, he was striding toward the door of the small craft.

This must've been something of a routine for them, because the young woman practically threw herself into his arms, sending the pair into a fit of giggles. I hung back just a bit to give them space. Despite Tokath's earlier protests, I was determined not to intrude on their reunion.

"You should've told me you were coming! I'd have prepared a welcome party," he said, and at her protests, I turned my attention to Ba'el's ship, trying to give them some semblance of privacy. The vessel seemed to be Klingon in design, so I assumed she'd acquired it or borrowed it while on the homeworld that she'd gone to explore - Tokath told me all about the incident with a Starfleet officer and the minor revolt that led to some of the younger members of the colony striking out on their own. More power to them. It took a lot to leave the only place you'd ever known in search of entirely new places.

"Oh, hi!" Ba'el's cheerful voice sounded, and I turned my head to meet her smile with one of my own. I gave a little wave as the pair walked over.

"Ah, this is our newest resident," Tokath said introducing me. Rather than a more subdued greeting as I'd expected, Ba'el glanced between her father and myself, then wrapped me in a tight hug. I'd expected apprehension or maybe something a bit more confrontational, but, really, that was silly. She was Tokath's daughter, and he was one of the kindest people I'd ever met. It only stood to reason that his daughter would be at least partially similar in temperament.

"This place is so secluded! How in the stars did you end up here?" She asked as she pulled back and grasped my shoulders.

"Well, it's a long story–"

"One that even I have not yet managed to coax from her," Tokath cut in as he wrapped an arm around my waist and smiled playfully down at me.

"–but it's not a terribly interesting one. I boarded the wrong transport at the wrong time, that's all," I finished with a shrug, ducking my head to escape the warmth of his gaze before I combusted completely.

"Oh, the 'wrong time' was it? And here I thought you liked it here, e'lev." He was teasing me, I knew he was, but I still didn't want him to have the wrong impression.

"No, no, that's not what I meant. I love living here! This place is the best thing that ever happened to me. I-I just–" Tokath's gentle, rolling laughter engulfed me just as his arms did, cutting off my rambling protests.

"Do you really think I don't know how you feel about that by now?" When I simply buried my face in his tunic and made a noncommittal sound, he gave me a nice, big squeeze. "Come on. Let's all get back to the compound before we freeze in this dreary weather."

Dinner that night was a joyful affair. Stepped up from the usual fare into something more celebratory, the whole colony was ecstatic to welcome back one of their own, even if it was only for a short time. Though she was only planning on staying for a couple of weeks, Ba'el's presence brought a sparkle into the hall. Her lightheartedness and genuine wonder about the things she'd seen in her travels brought smiles to everyone's faces - including a rather pointed attentiveness from Centurion M'Ven that I noticed.

Eventually, the meal drew to a close, but before Tokath could protest, his daughter looped her arm around mine and stole me away into the quiet evening air. Stopping at the same little pond where her father had first told me of the transport, Ba'el tugged me down next to her on the bench to sit with her. We were both silent for a few moments, watching the water ripple in the bond as a slight breeze caressed its surface. When she spoke, her voice was so soft that it almost slipped away amidst the trees' rustling leaves.

"When I was little, my parents used to bring me here every day. I'd run around and play, and they'd sit here together on this bench. On the days when I didn't need others for the silly games I played, they kept their own company. Sometimes they talked, sometimes my father would read her a book, and sometimes, if the atmosphere was right, they'd end up roaring with laughter over some joke they'd shared," she murmured. A nostalgic little smile stretched her lips, and a far away sort of look settled itself firmly onto her face. "When I got older, they trusted me to come here alone, and I took to exploring the gardens. I knew every rock and tree - they were my friends, as silly as that sounds. I miss this place more than any other when I'm off exploring the galaxy."

I listened carefully, and a wave of gratitude washed through me for the glimpse she was giving me into both her past and her father's. It must've taken a lot for her to share something so personal with me.

"The last time I was home, M'Ven saw me come here. He followed me one night...gave me a bouquet of his own hybrid flowers - he tends them religiously, so you couldn't have missed them," she said, and with a conspiratorial lean in, she continued. "He's asked me to be his mate."

I wasn't exactly surprised. The glowing smiles he gave her at dinner and his near constant blushing sort of gave it away.

"Does your father know?"

"Not yet, no. I'm going to tell him in a couple of days, though, I promise. M'Ven was the first born here. I think his mother was in the early stages of pregnancy before the battle and just didn't know it yet," Ba'el explained. "He's not officially a Centurion, of course. He wears the uniform, and he was trained by the officers here, but the Romulan government doesn't know anything about him."

She paused for a moment, allowing the weight of her words wash over me.

"We agreed that this year when I came home, if I still felt the same for him, he'd come with me on my next trip. It'll be a little more risky traveling together, but we'll manage. After that, when we come home next year, we're going to stay and build a life together," she said letting out a giggle that was so infectious that I couldn't help but join her. "So what about you? I assume that you and Papa are going to stop dancing around each other sometime this decade...?"

"I-I don't know what you mean." Stammering certainly didn't help my case, but the laugh that left her throat told me that she wouldn't have believed me even if I'd sounded perfectly confident. "Ba'el, I...I do love your father, but I don't want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable–"

"What are you talking about? I haven't seen him this happy in years! Last year I was so worried about him that I stayed for a month instead of my usual couple of weeks. He practically had to kick me out." She gripped my forearms gently and looked into my eyes. "I'm happy for you. When one of you finally works up the courage to talk about your feelings, I'll be the first person to celebrate. You're good for him, and, from what I can see, he's good for you."

Relief, palpable and potent, rushed through me, and I hugged Ba'el to hide the tears that had gathered in my eyes. We sat by the pond, talking and joking until the unmistakable sound of footsteps met our ears. We both turned in time to see M'Ven rounding one of the larger trees with a bouquet in hand. He caught sight of us and froze - he'd clearly been coming to meet Ba'el, but my presence startled him, the poor lad.

Ba'el beckoned him over, and the bob of his Adam's apple in his throat as he swallowed betrayed the confident air he'd clearly been trying to exude.

"Calm down, she knows. I told her," Ba'el said as I smiled and got to my feet.

"I also know when it's my cue to leave." Giving poor, startled M'Ven a wink, I started to walk away and give them some privacy. Before I got out of earshot, though, I turned back and called his name. "I think it goes without saying that you'd better be good to her."

Resolve straightened his back and lifted his chin.

"I will, lhhei, you have my word." With that promise obtained, I left them to their own devices, and, though I'd intended to go to my room and sleep, my feet carried me to Tokath's study seemingly of their own volition.

The door was already open, revealing the man in question sitting at his desk and staring into a cup of tea as if it held the answers to life itself. I wanted so badly to kiss the little furrow between his eyebrows and the lines on either side of his mouth...

As if my gaze had called out to him, his eyes lifted from the depths of his tea and caught me hovering in the doorway. His features melted seamlessly from from surprised to relieved to elated in barely a flash.

"Ah, so I haven't been abandoned for the evening, then," he teased as I closed the door behind me. Tokath leaned back in his chair, and I noticed for that there was a second cup of tea sitting on the desk.

"As if I could stay away from you, Commander." Walking over to his desk, I leaned against the polished surface and glanced at his bookshelves for the thousandth time. I knew very well which titles sat on the shelves - even the Klingon ones - but I needed somewhere to look other than at his gorgeous face. "Forgive me for being late. Ba'el and I were talking."

"So that's where you were! I turned to speak with L'Kor for barely a moment after dinner, but when I turned back, my two favorite ladies were nowhere to be found," he said placing a hand over his heart and pouting as if he was deeply wounded. "I thought for a moment you'd been stolen away. I noticed that M'Ven disappeared after a while, as well. I couldn't help but wonder..."

As he trailed off, I felt a brief surge of hope. L'Kor's words and Ba'el's floated into my brain. Maybe they were right. Maybe I did have a chance, after all.

"M'Ven is kind, and he is a friend of mine, but I wouldn't give up your company for his." With my reassurance putting his mind at ease, Tokath grasped my hands and smiled up at me.

"Forgive me, e'lev, I shouldn't be this greedy with you."

Freeing one of my hands, I rested it lightly on his chest.

"There's nothing to forgive. You can be as greedy with me as you want, Tokath," I murmured, and just like that I found myself lost in his gaze. There was a softness in his features when he looked at me, a vulnerability that made me want to wrap him in my arms and never let go. It went through my mind that I could tell him. I could kiss him there, right then, while that gentle trance had us so firmly in its grip, but I couldn't seem to make my mouth move.

"The tea...I'm sorry, it's probably cold by now." His voice was so rough when he spoke that he sounded as though there was gravel in his throat. I could hardly blame him, though. When I spoke, I sounded just as destroyed.

"It's okay. How many evenings have we talked so long that we forgot we even had tea to begin with?" He let out a quiet laugh at my question, and we fell into our usual rhythm of conversation. Before we drifted off together, though, I promised myself that before his daughter left with her own lover, I'd tell Tokath how I felt. If shy, reserved, dutiful M'Ven could ask the woman he loved to be with him, I could tell Tokath how much I adored him.

"She matches this little community of misfits well, doesn't she?" The rough voice of his co-leader sounded from just behind Tokath's right shoulder. L'Kor was observing the group of small children on the other side of the courtyard that were listening intently to a story that the Human woman was telling them. "The children like her, their parents trust her...she has even befriended Ta'lana. It's as if she's been here all her life."

"She did say that she felt more at home here than anywhere else," Tokath mused as he watched one of the youngest - a brave Klingon girl of no more than three - climb onto her lap. He couldn't stop himself from smiling at the ease with which she handled life in the colony.

The Klingon leader hummed quietly and they watched as the children begged her to show them a Human game.

"You see it now, do you not, old friend?" L'Kor asked as he and Tokath watched her explain how to play game. She said that it was one that children of her species played called 'hide and seek.' As soon as she turned her back on the giggling group of little ones, they promptly scurried away as she began to count.

"I don't know what you mean," Tokath murmured, but the aged Klingon let out a rough, disbelieving laugh.

"Yes, you do. Whether you wish to admit it or not, you look at that kyamo Human woman, and you feel young again," he rasped as a tiny Romulan boy sped past their feet. "You cannot hide it from me, Tokath. I know you too well. Since she crashed into our lives, you have become more like your old self. You should tell her how you feel."

The Commander shook his head quickly as she turned back toward the courtyard.

"Ready or not, here I come," she called, and a few poorly-suppressed giggles echoed from various not-so-clandestine spots.

"I couldn't. She chose to stay here in this isolated place without a single other member of her species being present. She believed that I alone had the power to banish her. She begged me to stay. I will not jeopardize her newfound happiness by making her feel trapped by an old man's unwelcome attentions," Tokath protested to his old friend.

"'Trapped'? 'Unwanted'? Commander, she seeks out your attention on a daily basis," L'Kor stated as he looked at his friend incredulously. "Have you not noticed how differently she behaves around you than everyone else here? Can you not see the light in her eyes when you give her a reason to smile? My friend, if such a woman looked at me with as much love as that Human lady looks at you, I would have made my interest known long ago."

That made Tokath pause. There had been moments where he believed - where he hoped - that he saw something beyond simple gratitude and friendship in her eyes, but he'd dismissed it, believing that those moments were a product of his own wishful thinking. Even a few nights ago when she still came to him after speaking with Ba'el for so long, there was a charged moment when he felt as thought might have a chance.

He did love her. She was a ray of light in a world that had grown gray and stagnant. He'd sacrificed so much over the years - his home, his career...he'd given everything to ensure that the families of the Klingons living here would not be dishonored. He'd even been forced to surrender his wife to the ravages of time. Did he not deserve to have a moment's pleasure of his own? Did he not have the right to cling to this bright spot and bask in her presence now that he'd found her?

Tokath relished how easily she made him smile...how effortlessly she made him laugh. Her quick wit and warmth had brought so much color to his life. He'd narrowly managed to avoid losing her to the transport, but only just. Had she not come to him and pleaded for a place in the Carraya colony, she would be lightyears from him by now. How long would it be before someone else here - someone younger and more willing to be forthright about their feelings - caught her eye?

He thought he'd revealed too much when he made that offhanded comment about M'Ven, but neither of them had been brave enough to make a move afterward. He cursed his cowardice yet again. He should've kissed her that night.

Taking a deep breath, Tokath nodded his head and mentally acknowledged how fortunate he'd been thus far. He might not be for much longer if he didn't gather his courage. Would his daughter approve now that she'd had a chance to meet her?

A few feet away, she found a Klingon child hiding behind a set of supply crates, and when she looked up Tokath's eyes met hers. His lips stretched into a warm smile reflexively, and she gave him a little wave as she went to look for more of hiding children.

Oh, Elements, he couldn't deny it any longer.

"You've made your point, L'Kor."

"And what are you going to do now that you see your situation more clearly?" Tokath bristled slightly as he turned to look at his friend. "Oh, come now. You cannot tell me that you have not given any thought to the possibilities. Surely, you've at least imagined what you might say if you were to tell her how you feel?"

He had, but most of those daydreams ended in him dejectedly acknowledging that she would likely never be able to return his affections.

Tokath's expression must've said it all, because L'Kor sighed heavily.

"Oh, my friend, do you truly think so little of yourself that you cannot even imagine a happy ending? Take it from me: it was far more difficult for my wife to give me a chance than it will be for that lovely girl to give you one," he said before patting the Commander's shoulder and ambling off.

Perhaps L'Kor was right. Maybe he simply needed to allow himself to consider the possibility that she might react favorably to the fondness, no, love - that was the emotion and he should call it by its name - that he'd developed for her.

A joyful squeal from one of the little ones drew his attention, and he saw his lady being hugged so enthusiastically by the children that she was practically drowning in their affections. She sank to the ground, surrendering good-naturedly to their embraces with a giggle. Tokath couldn't suppress his laughter at the sight of her trying to hug as many of the children in return as her arms could accommodate.

Her eyes found him through the clamor of the group, and his heart thudded alarmingly. Oh, the things she did to him!

One of the children whispered something in her ear, and when she nodded her head, the little girl broke away from the group and ran up to Tokath, looking up at him with big, hopeful eyes as she spoke.

"Mister Tokath, sir? Will you come play with us?" She asked as the rest of the children and his Human watched their interaction.

How could he say no to such a polite request?

Later that evening as he walked to his quarters to get ready for dinner, Tokath thought to himself that the afternoon spent playing with the children along with the woman he loved was one of the most enjoyable days he'd had in quite some time. The joy of simply being with her was enough to make him feel like the luckiest Romulan alive.

"When are you going to marry her, Papa?" Ba'el appeared at his side smiling up at his as she looped her arm with his. Had he truly been so lost in thought that he hadn't heard her approach?

"Marry? What are you talking about?" He asked as innocently as he could, but all that earned him was a scoff from his daughter.

"Oh, please. The entire colony knows how you feel about your newest resident," she said, and his cheeks heated up as she continued. "So when are you going to ask her?"

"Ba'el, I...I don't even know if she'll have me–"

"Are we talking about the same woman? When you joined her and the children today, she looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky," his daughter said. "You haven't been this happy since..."

She didn't have to finish her sentence. He knew what she meant. They both know the significance.

Pulling her to a stop in the hallway, Tokath grasped his daughter's shoulders lightly and looked into her eyes.

"Could you handle that? Could you live with the knowledge that you have a stepmother who is neither Klingon nor Romulan?" Ba'el's opinion of her was important to him - it was the only one that mattered outside of his own on this. He didn't want her to feel as though he was actively attempting to replace her mother. Gi'ral had been unique and he would never wish to disrespect her memory.

But he also didn't wish to be alone for the rest of his life. He adored this Human lady, and he...well, he would dearly love to be her mate.

"Father, I want you to live. I've been worried about you for the last few years, but now...seeing you this happy...I'm so relieved that you've found someone who makes you feel like yourself again. How could I ever object to you finding love?"

Overcome with emotion, Tokath pulled his daughter into a tight hug, nearly sobbing in relief.

"I...have some news, too...about M'Ven and I." She sounded nervous, but in truth, she had no reason to be. Pulling back slightly, Tokath looked at his daughter.

"Ba'el, if you believe that I know nothing of your affections for him or his for you, then you have clearly forgotten that I used to be young, too," he said looking into her eyes. "I wish the both of you every happiness, and if he hurts you, you tell me how much he screams when you tear his head off. And I know you're imminently capable, but if you need help, I'm here for you."

His daughter was right. He needed this. He didn't want to be alone anymore.

Tokath's daughter had been on the colony for nearly a week and a half when it happened. I stopped by his quarters to pass along a message from Ta'lana before dinner, but when I reached his doorway, I froze. He was standing in front of a full-length mirror, in his full uniform, tugging it gently in various directions presumably to straighten it. The poses he struck might have looked silly to anyone else, but to me, the imposing figure he made when he puffed up his chest and gave a harsh glare to his reflection made me bite my lip.

Realizing how long I'd been standing there, I knocked on the doorframe and acted as though I'd only just arrived when he turned his head.

"Just the woman I wanted to see," he exclaimed as he turned to face me. "I dug out one of my older uniforms and thought I'd wear it to dinner tonight. What do you think?"

He puffed out his chest once more as I stepped into the room, looking very much like the proud Commanding officer that he was.

"Very handsome...commanding..." I paused when I was right in front of him, itching to touch any part of him that I could. "...Perhaps a little rigid, though."

His smile fell a bit.

"Rigid?"

"Only a little," I answered, and he raised a curious eyebrow.

"How would you fix this...rigidity?" He asked, and I walked a slow circle around him before reaching up to finger the front of the ghastly leather collar at the top of his uniform.

"Does this part come off separately?" Tokath swallowed slightly before letting out a quiet confirmation. "May I?"

The Commander caught both my hands carefully in his and slid them around to the back of his neck where the collar's clasps lay.

"Do what you will with me." His voice had lowered, both in volume and in pitch to something husky...something that made me want to remove more than just this hideous strip of leather. After a moment's pause, I managed to unfasten the clasps and pull the collar away from his throat.

My next movement proved that I wasn't thinking. Once I'd tossed away the unnecessary accessory, I skimmed my fingertips over his neck, savoring the feeling of his pulse thrumming beneath my touch. Tokath's hands grasping my waist made me aware of what I'd done, pulling me out of whatever trance I'd been in and forcing my eyes to meet his.

Anything I'd been preparing to say was obliterated by the hunger in his eyes. Was I imagining it? I could simply have been seeing my own emotions reflected back at me.

Then he took a slow step toward me, and I stopped thinking about anything but how badly I wanted to kiss him. I took a breath and leaned in–

Only to be startled by a call of his name from the hallway. We both took a hasty step back and averted our eyes as Ta'lana appeared in his doorway.

"There you are. I tried to catch up with you, but it turns out you didn't need to deliver your message. I found the extra crates from our last shipment, after all," she said, then she turned her attention to Tokath. "My apologies for the disturbance, Commander. I hope this hasn't been too much of an inconvenience."

Tokath caught my hand and gave me a little wink.

"No, not at all," he said catching my eye. "I always welcome your company, lhhei."

A long, charged pause stretched between us, and my cheeks heated up under his gaze, but finally Ta'lana called my name.

"Come, come. We've taken enough of the Commander's time," she called, and I started toward the doorway.

"See you at dinner," I called over my shoulder, hoping neither of them could hear how unsteady I sounded. His response barely registered as Ta'lana closed the door behind us.

"I'm looking forward to it, e'lev."

The atmosphere in the dining hall that evening was different. It felt as though everyone was waiting for something to happen. They seemed nervous, yet...excited? How odd. When Tokath arrived, he took a seat beside me as usual and caught my hand in his. Before I could ask what he was doing, he'd tucked a flower securely in my hair just above my ear. The delicate petals tickled a bit, but I didn't dare risk dislodging it after he'd placed it there so carefully.

I opened my mouth to ask him what he was doing, but the words just wouldn't come out. He seemed to understand my dilemma, though, because he brushed the back of his knuckles down the the side of my face and swallowed heavily.

The heat that suffused my cheeks when we were alone in his quarters earlier made a spectacularly rapid return, even as dinner was served.

Conversation was hushed, but weighty that night from all sides. People were happy for M'Ven and Ba'el - news had already made its way through the colony like wildfire, sparking surprised exclamations and boastful assertions that people had seen it coming years ago.

But there was something else, as well. Given how peoples' eyes kept straying up to the head table where Tokath and I sat, I guessed that people were wondering how he was taking the news. It wouldn't be unreasonable to assume that he'd be emotional about his daughter finally choosing a partner. If that was the case, though, why were so many gazes landing on me? Was it the flower? I supposed that I couldn't blame them. After all, I'd been surprised, too.

The Commander offered me his arm when the meal ended and I took it without hesitation, allowing him to lead me out into the gardens. This particular route was one we'd never taken before, and we only stopped when we reached a footpath leading into the forest.

"Where are we going?" I asked as he guided me down it expertly, pushing small branches aside and helping me over a fallen log.

"A secret place I found years ago. As far as I'm aware, nobody else even knows it exists," he said with a wink. After a few more minutes, we reached a curtain of vines. Thinking we'd reached a dead end, I looked around in confusion, but Tokath walked me right up to it with his arm wrapped comfortably around my waist. I looked up at him, and he winked as he parted the vine stems.

Moonlight sparkled and gleamed as it bounced off the surface of a placid lake. A swarm of glowing insects slightly larger than Earth fireflies swirled and played above the water, reminding me of a flock of birds.

"Oh, Tokath, this is beautiful," I murmured. I was almost afraid of speaking too loudly, lest I disrupt the peace that permeated this little place. The branches of the trees surrounding the lake's edge seemed to almost wrap around the clearing like gentle, protective arms.

"I thought you might like this place. I've been waiting for the right moment to share it with you," he whispered against the shell of my ear as his hands rested on my shoulders. Gently, so carefully, he grasped my chin and turned my head toward the left shore. A few feet from the water's edge was a blanket with plush pillows, fluffy towels, and a lantern resting atop it.

That was it. Afraid or not, I was going to kiss Tokath tonight, no matter what. I turned in his grasp only to find the lantern's warm, yellowish glow caressing the adoring smile that stretched his lips.

"Thank you for trusting me with this," I said resting my hands on his chest. It was now or never. Lifting my hand to cup his cheek like I had in his room, I looked into his eyes. "You've been uncharacteristically quiet tonight. Is everything alright?"

That damned smile got wider and he let out a quiet laugh.

"Oh, yes, lhhei. Forgive me," he said drawing me into a hug. "I'm afraid I've been lost in thought."

"Oh? And what has occupied your mind so thoroughly?" I punctuated the question with a quick kiss above his fluttering pulse. The Commander's breath caught in his throat, and I realized that maybe I hadn't imagined the hunger I'd seen in him earlier after all.

His grip on me tightened and he hummed at the question.

"You have, dear lady," he muttered, his voice low and rough. That tone had caused me so much frustration since the first time I heard it. I must've let out a gasp or some other surprised sound, because he nodded his head against my scalp. "Yes, you have been a very prominent element of my thoughts since the day you arrived here, but, lately, I find myself contemplating something that...truthfully, I have no right to even consider."

Feeling his proximity even more than usual, I looked up at him curiously. He didn't relinquish his grip on me one iota, but that suited me just fine. I never wanted to stop touching him.

"Maybe talking about it would help ease your mind? Usually confiding in someone close to me helps when there's something bothering me," I suggested, hoping that he didn't notice how shaky my voice had become.

"I will, but only if you don't mind being the one who listens to me ramble. You see, you're the only one who can help me with this particular problem, but I promise I won't ask you if you're not willing." His voice was low and heavy as he spoke, carrying the same weight I'd noticed more and more lately.

"I'll do anything I can to help, Tokath. You know that," I said offering him a reassuring smile.

"You see, I've been asking myself several very specific questions...ones to which I do not have the answers. If the answers are too personal or if you do not wish to engage in that conversation, you need only tell me, and I will drop the topic. Everything can return to the way it was before. I have no desire to make you feel trapped or to change how you see me."

After his little speech, I felt certain that I knew where this might be going, and anticipation flooded through me. Butterflies beat their wings unceasingly in my abdomen.

"Questions could never change the way I look at you." He shook his head at my assertion.

"These might," he breathed as he averted his gaze. "I haven't spent much time around Humans, as you may have guessed, so I...don't exactly know how someone in your culture might approach something of this nature."

I nodded my head in encouragement as his thumbs began to rub slow circles where they rested on my waist.

"I...You see, I wish to...to..." He trailed off and took a deep breath. "When...Well, with Klingons, the men write poetry, the women throw things at each other. It's rather straightforward. Romulans are more varied in their approaches, and...I suppose what I want to ask is is this: How do I...? I mean, what would you expect of...of a...?"

Tokath let out a frustrated huff and shut his eyes. A blush so vibrant that I could see it in the lantern light darkened his cheeks and spread all the way to the tips of his ears.

"Oh, fvadt, I'll never say it at this rate. What I'm trying to tell you is that you are beautiful and kind and the part of myself I never thought I'd find," he said sounding much more resolute. "I doubt this is the way a Human would go about it - much less subtlety to it even though you deserve subtlety and romance - but I need you to know that I love you. That I...would like to be your mate. Hell, I don't even know if Humans call their bound partners 'mates' as we do, but that's neither here nor there. I'd, of course, be happy to call us anything that you wish if–"

A surge of courage tore through me, and I cut off the rest of what he was going to say with a kiss. My lips met Tokath's, and he tensed up for a moment before relaxing into it and kissing me back. One of his hands came up and cupped the back of my head, holding me as close to him as was physically possible.

"I love you, too," I blurted as soon as we separated for air. He looked as dazed as I felt, but he still managed to lift me into his arms and carry me to the blanket as his mouth met mine again.

We didn't make it back to the compound until the next morning. With our hands clasped and rather obvious marks marring the skin of our necks, it was obvious to anyone who looked our way that we were both finally whole.

~*~*~

Taglist:

@akamitrani @android-boyfriends @attention-bajoranworkers @bigblissandlove1 @darkmattervibes @emilie786 @horta-in-charge @live-logs-and-proper @slutty-slutty-vulcans @starrynightgardens @toebeans-mcgee

#deepspacedukat fic #Tokath x Reader #Commander Tokath of Carraya IV #Human x Romulan romance

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ch4rryc0smos · 2 months ago

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⊹ warm — a. donaldson.

synopsis — their hearts know who they beat for, and they're done waiting. every moment they spent away from each other, they will make up for it, some way or another, yearning never truly dies out, does it?

genres — friends to lovers, tension, mutual pining, requited yearning, admiring, best friend's friend, domestic fluff, requited love, fluff.

pairing — art donaldson x friend!self insert, art donaldson x mutual friend!self insert.

warnings — none! all fluffy!

word count — 1.5k.

author's note — this took me a bit to write because i've been busy and so horribly tired, but i've got a new idea, and i have something planned, so bear with me, i hope you enjoy!

masterlist.

The warmth of Art’s hand is encapsulated in Marion’s as he holds her pressed close to his side. His arms are tense, Marion can tell. She always could. Even when he used to play tennis. Marion isn’t necessarily wearing anything light, so even with the breeze teasing her, she shouldn’t be too cold, but Art wants to take his chances anyway. Marion looks up at Art, he’s staring ahead, but smiling softly. She misses his fluffy hair, flowing with the wind. Of course it made sense to cut it short for him to play tennis, but she misses seeing it get in his face when they’d have walks in the morning breeze while it assaulted them. She doesn’t realise she’s been smiling at him until he turns to her, and he raises his eyebrows. She looks away.

“Nothing,” she whispers. He isn’t convinced, he brushes a stray strand of hair out of her face, and then he leans down, so now they’re eye-level. “Art!”

He continues grinning. Even at thirty one, he’s still acting like he did at twenty. “What’s wrong?”

“Hm,” Marion hums, feigning confusion, and then she flicks his forehead. He gasps softly and she erupts into laughter. This feels a bit immature, but it feels nice, to have him back, to just be, with him, in his arms. He still hasn’t let go of her waist. He pouts softly and Marion’s knees are about to give out. “Nicely cropped hair? Not really like you, Donaldson.”

“Hey…” he whispers, nuzzling his nose into her shoulder. She chuckles, wrapping her arms around his back and holding him close. The night hides them away from any prying eyes and it’s like being eighteen and going out together for the first time all over again. Just this time, she’s not in his sweatshirt and a random pair of jeans she stole from Tashi. This time, she’s still in her work outfit, courtesy to Art arriving too early to pick her up.

Just like the day they reconciled.

Marion presses a kiss to the side of Art’s head, and he melts in her arms. “I love you,” she whispers into his neatly cut hair. “Miss your messy hair, though.”

Art turns his face in her direction and their noses brush. He grins, leaning in until his lips are lightly grazing hers. Marion feels like mush in his hands. One of his hands slides up her body, and then cups her face. His palm is a warm contrast to the wind that’s ebbing and flowing between their bodies, entangled in the middle of the footpath.

“I love you more, Mari’.” He gently moves back, instead opting to snake his arms around her shoulders, still covered by his jacket. He himself is in a casual shirt, a bit formal, a bit unlike him, but Marion knows he’s just trying to impress her, as if there’s any reason for it. “Do you want me to grow my hair out?”

“Art,” she starts. “You don’t have to ask me what do with your own hair, if you want to grow it out, you can, if you don’t want to,” her voice has grown to a hushed whisper even in the emptiness of the streets they tread and her hand finds its way to his as she intertwines their fingers. “You don’t have to.”

Marion shouldn’t be surprised, but she can’t help but notice the way Art relaxes, he squeezes her hand and then raises it gently to his lips, pressing feather light kisses to her knuckles.

He meets her eyes, her heart flutters like she’s a teen still. “Do you want me to grow it out?”

“Art.” Marion shakes her head.

“Mari’,” he whispers back.

She huffs, looking away, but smiling nonetheless.

“Yeah, I do.” She sighs.

“Then, I’m growing it out,” says Art, tone definitive.

Marion just shakes her head and stares ahead, at the streets, the singular cars that pass by every few minutes. It’s getting closer and closer to midnight, but these two are seemingly in their own world. And Marion personally, wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Art—”

“Want to get ice—”

Both of them start speaking at the same time, Marion stops, but so does Art. She nods. Art’s face breaks into a grin and grips her hand tighter. And then suddenly, he’s picked up pace, and Marion laughs, all surprised, but she’s not opposed to the idea of running with her Art down a random pathway on a random Tuesday, when the clock’s close to spiking midnight. He’s got that athlete strength and she’s close to losing her breath already.

“I can’t breathe—” she begins, voice breaking from holding back her giggles, she’s clinging onto Art for dear life. She doesn’t get how this old man with a whole daughter has the ability to run like this. So much for being an athlete. And so much for her having played tennis at college.

Slowly, Art comes to a halt, and Marion almost tumbles into him, “didn’t you play tennis with Tashi during Stanford?”

“Yeah, but I’m not some pro like…” she has to stop to forcefully inhale more air. “Like you.”

“You flatter me,” Art says, wrapping the jacket around Marion’s shoulders again. He’s standing in front of Art, brushing his hands over her shoulders, up her neck. A shiver crawls up her spine when his warm hands find the plains of her face, and he holds her gently. Her eyes dare flutter close, but only momentarily, and then again, she’s looking at him, like he might have hung the stars for her, like he is the moon she adores. Her eyes drop to his lips, but they don’t linger long enough, she looks away, at the space separating them.

“Look at me,” Art’s voice is soft as he whispers the words, his hands hold her firmly in place, and then he brushes thumb over her lower lip. Marion’s heart rate skyrockets the way it did the first time they looked at each other at anything, anything but friends.

They were never just friends. Art, with his neatly cut hair, and slightly cherry-tinted face looks at Marion, eyes looking almost glazed over, and she’s staring, lips parted. Her heart is a cacophony in her chest and she’s scared he can hear it, and hates it. This feels reckless, like being in love but not knowing if your heart is ready to settle. If they will, too. But now, they do know.

They’ve spent what feels like a lifetime tip-toeing around the feeling of knowing they’re made for no one else, but now, after so many years, they’re finally giving in. Marion brings her hand to hold the nape of Art’s neck tenderly, using her other hand to brush his cheek softly before she leans in, pressing her lips to his. Right outside a door, leading into a parlour.

Art breathes into her mouth, pulling her closer, for a moment. His lips are perfectly moulded to the like of hers, and he knows where her mouth ends and his begins but not where their breaths end because they’ve become one.

When they pull away, Art’s grinning, and Marion laughs softly. And her eyes flutter close for just a moment, but then she feels a gust of much colder wind brush against her legs. She looks at Art, and he’s holding a door open for her. She steps through, and his arm latches around her waist again, and he leads her into the parlour.

It’s that one ice cream parlour.

They’d visit when they were younger.

Was Luke still the owner? Was he alive?

He was, much to Marion’s relief. She jogged up to the counter, smiling at him.

“Marion! Look at how you’ve grown,” he begins speaking, rather tenderly, as he had then too.

“It’s not been that long,” Marion says, smiling as she glances at Art, who greets Luke too.

The corner of Luke’s eyes crinkle as Art’s eyes wander to the ice cream under them. “Still the same, after all these years too, hm?”

“Yeah,” Art’s voice is calm, it’s almost quiet.

“Same?”

Art nods.

Marion watches the interaction, and something fills her heart. In the quiet of the night, she’s watching the lights of the ice cream parlour reflect off Art’s face, and Luke has more wrinkles, but he’s so enthusiastic. She can’t ignore the way he’s looking at the both of them and she’s so glad her and Art’s intertwined fingers are hidden behind the counter. And then a small cup of ice cream is being pushed to her.

Cookies & cream, how’d he know—

“You two are still the same, don’t change.”

By the time the ice cream is done, they’re staring out at the ocean. The moon glimmers above their head and the stars twinkle for them. Art is holding Marion’s hands in his laps, and she plays with his fingers. The wind hums in their ears, and there’s this warmth blossoming in her guts.

“I missed you,” she whispers, head pressed to his neck, drinking in his cologne.

He laughs softly, and his body shakes slightly from the force of it. “I miss you.”

“I’m right here.” She presses a tender kiss to a vein on his neck.

“Don’t go anywhere.”

“I won’t.”

He encircles his arms around her, his warm body pressed to hers, heartbeat steady under her arms. She missed him.

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purrincess-chat · 1 year ago

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Okay, but be self indulgent with me for a minute.

Ladrien almost-kiss in Simon Says, Volpina exacerbates the Ladrien mutual pining, so in early s2 they start dating like maybe the episode before Riposte, he confesses to her. They're dating in Riposte and Gorizilla but like in secret. Eventually, Gabriel finds out Adrien is in love with Ladybug and because he's a shit father, decides to use Adrien as bait to catch Ladybug. Ladybug realizes what's happened and breaks things off with him bc she can't bear putting him in danger.

This happens an episode or two before Frozer, so in Frozer Adrien is still heartbroken, and his confidence is shaken, so he needs Marinette for emotional support when he goes out with Kagami bc he's trying to move on, but it's hard. After Frozer, Kagami is like I'm no one's second choice, boy bye 💅 as she should have, and idk maybe Marinette is still too heartbroken over Adrien too and can't commit to the blue boy either.

So, Marinette decides to just keep it chill for a while and focus on herself, but after Weredad in s3, she's like I can't believe I said i was in love with Chat Noir as if I'd ever hahaha...unless? S3 gives us requited LadyNoir, except things keep getting in their way, so they struggle to be together, then after Chat Blanc happens, and Ladybug sees that their love destroyed everything and got Chat Noir akumatized, she's like mmm better not. Chat Noir is heartbroken, of course, but when Ladybug becomes the new guardian, he realizes that something will always be pulling them apart.

Meanwhile, he's been getting closer to Marinette, and after Weredad, he's like oh, she likes Chat Noir, so he tries to impress her as Chat Noir, but in the end, they realize they're both being selfish and this can't work out either (or whatever the moral of Elation was). So, Adrien is like I'll just have to go after Marinette as Adrien because there are no superhero masks involved, and we can just be two normal kids. But then just when they start to get closer, boom Felix surrenders all the Miraculous to Gabriel, which sends Marinette into her s5 spiral, and she starts avoiding Adrien, he doesn't know why, eventually they figure it out and work through the trauma together, but Gabriel is still a trick ass bitch. Then in the s5 finale, Adrien actually gets to be there and help, and there is a reveal in the end, and they both realize they've been more or less dating each other the whole time on and off, and it's silly and then they makeout while Gabriel gets taken to jail or dies in a corner or something I dunno.

And that's the story of how we could have had all 4 sides be canon before the reveal if the show really wanted to play up the love square instead of whatever the hell they were trying to do with the rivals. The humor of the two of them cockblocking themselves four times, come on.

#miraculous ladybug #ladrien #ladynoir #adrinette #marichat

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scoundrels-in-love · 1 year ago

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We could love (illumination), we could love you (elevation) (2/3)

Meryl does not often drink to the point of hangovers and for good reason. She prides herself in knowing her limits and abiding by them. But somewhere after leaving her work party with Milly timely because they had decided they deserved to celebrate their promotion proper instead of playing polite with work seniors, her sensibilities (and a shoe) seems to have gotten lost while drinking and dancing. Which makes for a mortifying, surprising conversation next morning between her and Wolfwood, for whom she definitely doesn't have feelings for that could leak out in her inebriated state. | Mashwood | Pining (it's requited, they're just idiots) | AU: Modern/Roommates | AO3 |

As the herd of Meryl's hangover retreats, so does her bravado, and she's left laying trampled in the dust (her bed) by mortification, staring at the ceiling and wondering where she went wrong with her life.

It would be easiest to say that it was the day she wrote an article for the university newspaper, defending Vash against the accusation of "inciting violence" when all he had done was defend someone from a bunch of drunk jocks without throwing a single punch. He'd been kicked off campus, but thankfully not the university, for it and she'd found it unfair.

The reaction from other students had been louder and more mixed than she'd expected and if not for her professor de Niro and his total disregard for university authority and scheming, she'd have lost her position at the newspaper for it. Instead, she was also asked to leave the campus and proceeded to dig more into the biased ways the university picked sides in conflicts until her graduation.

In a moment of foolish spite (and desperation, when realization of rent prices sunk in), she'd asked Vash if he'd like to be her roommate until they figure something else out, as if university would care if they're breaking their same gender cohabitation rules now that they are off campus. He'd agreed eagerly, transforming from a miserable little puppy into the embodiment of sunshine within a split second. Maybe that's when things took the wrong turn.

And still, she doesn't want to think of it as The mistake. Her friendship with Vash had grown unexpectedly quickly and it's something that has course-corrected her life and made it better, lighter, kinder. She doesn't know how she'd have gotten through the exam seasons if not for him and, later, Wolfwood sometimes borderline wrestling her away from the books to get some food and sleep.

Clearly, she'd fucked up when she fell for the blond. But it's not like she'd chosen to do that. And worst of all, it hadn't even been him that she kissed last night. No, it'd been his boyfriend. One of the worst crimes that a friend could commit. Betrayal of highest order.

Meryl groans and slaps hands over her face, trying to recall more of the previous night and make sense of it. Maybe she'd done it overflowing with affection in an acceptable, friendly way. After all, she'd hugged both men before, even given cheek kisses when they exchanged gifts on Christmas and the like. But who would believe that, seeing the marks on Wolfwood's throat. Vash could be silly, but he is far from stupid.

And Wolfwood - Wolfwood could be a menace and a tease, but she has a hard time believing (she can't at all, in fact) that he would ever do anything to hurt Vash so deeply and irrevocably as cheating. Which makes this morning all the more bizarre and she can't make sense of the part where he implied… implied what, really? That he wants her, that they want her?

For a split second, an image flashes across her mind: her spread across Wolfwood's lap, fingers treading through his thick hair as he holds her by the hips, while Vash is settled behind her, his hands and mouth exploring her body. Meryl sucks in a sharp breath and shuts the window to that vision so hard and fast the glass shakes behind the shutter.

She turns to her side and burrows face in the pillow. Does she want that? And since when, if yes? Sure, she has known she has these sparks of attraction toward Wolfwood, has had them for a while, but that's what people do, right? Have a stray thought about beautiful people. And no one would deny that he is easy on the eyes.

(Nevermind that when her classmates first started falling for celebrities and random boys spotted across school grounds, she'd failed to follow. Nevermind that every brief lived relationship she's had before or after meeting Vash has happened because she convinced herself that it's what people do - say yes to being asked out and see if feelings come along. Nevermind that the first time she imagined holding hands with Vash, pressing a chaste kiss to his wonderfully shaped mouth and her heart had sped up, flush heating her face, she'd felt relief - not broken after all. Nevermind that she'd spent a year being jealous and gradually accepting that Wolfwood is an odd, but wonderful person and good fit for Vash before his great looks started to intrude her thoughts, instead of being a mere observation.)

Acting on it is a different matter. Feeling this all-consuming fear that she's on the verge of losing Vash and Wolfwood both is something else. She can, but does not want to imagine a life where they're gone, where no one welcomes her home, where there are no pet names said in gruff voice and no hand ruffles her hair that she bats away, where there are no movie nights with three of them piled on the couch, making stupid jokes to point they have to rewind the important parts a couple times, where there aren't the warm, sincere smiles she loves to lure out of both men, where -

Fuck. Fuck.

She's fallen for Wolfwood, too, hasn't she? Despite his constant smoking, despite his other addiction being annoying her and picking arguments for the sake of arguing, despite the shadows that press his shoulders down when he thinks she can't see, despite the way he rebukes care and concern like it would burn him, despite the way he knows just what to cook when she's having a bad day, despite the way his eyes crinkle at corners when he laughs and the depth of the sound reverberates in her heart pleasantly.

God. She's down bad and she has somehow managed to completely ignore it. Not that she can blame herself for it - acknowledging it means… means she's moved on from Vash? But when Meryl thinks of him, sitting across from her and humming happily as he eats his way through a donut box, taking her hand and dragging her toward next ride at amusement park because she can't keep up with how fast his attention swivels, of him getting dogpiled by a group of excited kids at the park or the quiet, wistful way they sit together on fire escape ladders and stare at the stars, sharing a set of earbuds, her heart overflows with the same tenderness and affection that burns so brightly and deeply it sears an unique shape in her soul, like a brand.

That heat presses behind her eyelids, too, and she stifles a sob.

What a fucking mess she's made of things.

How is she supposed to navigate being in love with both of them, explain her drunken actions, in a way that won't implode in her face and leave them drifting apart? She isn't that good a liar, not to them, so if either of the men confront her, she won't reveal her greedy, overwhelmed heart.

But crying won't solve anything, Meryl tells herself, even if she wants to give in to the tears. This is, essentially, her second heartbreak (funny that it's half a repeat of her first one), even if it's a little preemptive one, isn't she entitled to some good old sobbing and ice cream? But it'd mean she has to brave going outside, chance bumping into Wolfwood who would surely notice her red rimmed eyes.

So she tosses and turns a few times until she finds a good thinking position and starts compiling the facts. Her feelings. Vash's and Wolfwood's relationship and their friendship with her. The bizarre conversation earlier. It's this point that continuously trips her up. The insinuations are there and she doesn't know if she's to get hopeful or find a step stool and wind her arm up for smacking them both in the face.

Meryl's never seen them bring a third person of any gender home, but perhaps they've caught her looking a little too closely and considered a chance to try a friends-with-benefits type of thing or even just a one and done go at a filthy fantasy. And she knows, knows it'd set fire to this little something they've built, spectacularly.

She would, because she isn't good at stopping, at being reasonable about her expectations. Even a taste test of proper togetherness would flood the locked room where her feelings and wants smolder away, feed into it until it becomes an inferno. It'd be glorious and raze everything down to the foundations, until even those would melt.

If Wolfwood meant anything less than the unlikely shift between the three of them into a new, deeply entwined space, she has to be stern and shut it down, if she plans to keep this aching, but important connection. And she does, goddamnit. Even if it hurts more now, when she knows how deep her want for them both runs. Her appreciation of their friendship runs deeper still.

She's basically got her Master's in pining, anyway. Maybe this will speedrun her to getting the certificate.

It feels easier to breathe, now that she's decided all that, even if Meryl's still not sure how to handle the whole drunk smooches thing. It'd be best to come up with a lie and practice it diligently, she figures. After some more rolling around her bed and considering all the facts (such as she can't remember if she called Wolfwood by his name, so it might quickly dismantle her 'thought it was someone else' defense), she settles on an overzealous, friendly flood of affection.

She wallows in her bed and feelings for a while more, before daring to venture out for her hard earned ice cream. On the kitchen table, she finds a plate of pasta carbonara with a plastic cover over it and her heart swells like a creek in early spring. Wolfwood must have made it for her, knowing she's unlikely to bother cooking today.

It's delicious, as his cooking always is, and it isn't until she's started eating that Meryl realizes how hungry she is. Starving, really. She finishes the portion in record time, all the while listening for any noises in the apartment, but unless Wolfwood is napping, she assumes he's gone outside. Though he has always been able to be exceptionally quiet if he wants to be. He and Vash both. It has earned them quite a few punches in the shoulder, from sneaking up on her.

Meryl has half a mind to go and knock on Vash's door (theirs, rather, because she'd given up on making Wolfwood a blanket nest on the couch after couple months, when he rarely was in it come morning during his ‘sleepovers’), say thank you for the meal and maybe have a conversation, but her courage is still taking a vacation, hopefully somewhere sunny.

So instead she busies herself by doing chores around the apartment - they're good at maintaining it nice and tidy overall, but there's always something to do when two (three) adults mill about the place daily.

Even if it's something as pointless as reorganizing the living room bookshelf by alphabetical order.

Okay, maybe she's a little restless and doing things for the sake of doing them.

It's a short while after this internal admission that the apartment door opens and Meryl only has time to straighten up when a flurry of red rushes towards her, consuming her and lifting her into a spin at the same time.

“Meryllllll!” Vash singsongs as he spins her around for good measure and oh, she's dizzy, dizzy from the sudden motion and even more from his brilliant smile. “Congratulations on your promotion!”

Her arms have wrapped around his shoulders instinctively for some support and she briefly buries her face in his shoulder and crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of fresh wind and something sweet that always clings to Vash's clothes. It grounds her and helps Meryl escape the blue tinted flame of his gaze for a moment.

Yeah, she definitely hasn't fallen out of love with Vash.

And, clearly, Wolfwood has mentioned at least some of last night - and this morning’s conversation -, but the blond is still holding her, instead of demanding why she's propositioning his partner, so there's that.

Meryl inhales deeply and lifts her head, smiling as genuinely she can with anxiety doing scout lessons in knots with her insides. “Thanks, Vash.”

“We gotta celebrate, I know just the perfect spot.”

She hopes the internal wince was not too external. It's not that she doesn't want to spend time with him or Wolfwood, but until she knows if they are ignoring the incident or how that conversation goes, she finds it hard to feel singularly happy about it either.

“That sounds concerning,” Meryl teases and Vash gasps in mock affront, dramatically. “No alcohol, though,” she forces a laugh, “I've barely recovered from my hangover.”

“Did you eat?” A voice comes from behind her and Vash spins them so they both can look at Wolfwood, leaning against the door jamb. Though his arms are crossed across his chest (leather jacket making the gesture look an additional layer of good, illogically), his sunglasses are pushed up into his hair and he looks at them with this open… fondness almost. If she let her heart run off into the hills, it would claim his smile is soft.

Instead, she stiffens in Vash's hold and then pats his shoulder. “You can let me down now,” Meryl reminds him.

“Oh right,” the man says sheepishly and lowers her back to the ground.

“Thank you for the food, it was great,” she tells Wolfwood when she can duck her face down and pretend to focus on the last books that need to be put away. He says something like no problem, though it is mostly lost beneath Vash listing off when she's got to be ready for their evening plans. Seems like it's not going to be just a pizza night at home, this time.

Maybe it's better that way, being in public and away from that damn couch. So she tells him, yes, she'll be ready at seven o’clock tomorrow and manages to suppress her sigh of relief when Wolfwood drags the blond away all the way until the door to their room falls shut.

#mashwood #trigun #trigun stampede #stryfewood #my fic #rainy writes stuff

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