#but oh well I’m seized with the urge to go ‘none of you love my pet maniac the way I do’

[lucythornwalter]

“I was abused by a horribly controlling father and groomed as a teenager by a bigoted sadist who was stringing me along with promises of affection and fidelity while he was doing the same thing to at least one other woman who I didn’t speak to until after he abandoned us and left us up shit creek without a paddle, and the impact of my child abuse permanently ruined my life and exacerbated my preexisting mental health conditions to a point that renders me essentially nonfunctional because I’m a would-be serial killer now, and I dedicated the end of my life to saving my groomer because I thought he cared about and valued me but I was just a stepping stone for him to get what he truly wanted and he doesn’t think of me at all after I’m dead” is like. legitimately one of the saddest stories I’ve ever heard. and its greatest legacy is Other People On The Internet Being Wrong About My Homicidal Maniac Blorbo.

[arminsleftnut]

hi!! i’m so excited to see a blog that writes for death note, it’s become a recent hyperfixation of mine and i can’t find any good fics!!! 💗💗💗💗

could you provide some nsfw content for L? any is fine really, hc’s or a full drabble if you’d like!! i’m desperate for L content lol 💗💗

YES oh my god of course 💗💗 deathnote is one of mine too (i rewatch it like once a week) n L is my major comfort character. i did a kinda cross between a drabble and headcanons for this! I hope it’s what you were looking for <333

CONTENT WARNING: smut (MDNI, 18+), female-bodied reader (gender-neutral pronouns), fingering, begging, mild pain kink, overstimulation, L being .. himself and also mildly obsessive, voyeurism (read: L is a creep misa was right), slightest bit of dubcon if you squint, masturbation, pillow humping, dom!L and yes i will die on this hill, sub!reader, L is actually a little mean in this one, dacryphilia, thigh slapping, fluff at the end if you squint, let me know if i need to add more!

i.

being physically intimate with L was something you never really considered when you first got together. you weren’t even sure sex was something that was on his radar; he had so many other things to think about, and physical pleasure seemed like something he didn’t pay any mind to.

and you were right— for the most part. it’s not something L ever stops to consider. it’s not that he’s necessarily disinterested, it’s just never been a priority. he usually just takes care of himself when the urge arises.

with you here, though, it’s different. he’s not alone anymore, and your own desires are something he assumes he needs to factor in, and as many times as you assure him that it’s completely okay if he doesn’t want to have sex, that you can take care of it yourself and it’s a nonissue, he’s still . . . curious.

he’s seen you before on the monitors; those times late at night when everyone else has gone to bed and you forget there’s cameras everywhere, that he can see everything you do. he watches you as you’re spread out on the shared bed he rarely sleeps in, slipping your fingers in and out of your little cunt, your mewls and soft whines carrying through the speakers and shooting straight to his cock. he wonders if it’s wrong to watch you like this, but even as he ponders if misa amane was correct, that he is a pervert, he still doesn’t tear his gaze away from the screen. there is the possibility you hadn’t forgotten about the cameras at all. perhaps you wanted him to see.

he doesn’t say anything, less to save you any possible embarrassment and more because he’s found that a subject is least genuine when they know they’re being observed. it’s human nature, he knows, to alter yourself beneath the lens of others, to hide, and he doesn’t want that. this is a side of you he hadn’t considered might exist— an obvious oversight, and one he aims to correct.

that was how L always was. he loves you, yes, you can say that confidently. but as quiet and soft-handed a man as he is, his love is not simple, nor is it gentle. like him, it’s invasive and relentless. it’s not uncommon for you to feel somewhat neglected, or that perhaps he forgets about you altogether, but he never does. in fact, it’s quite the opposite. you are just as much a fixation, a complex puzzle to be torn apart and examined as any case, and rarely does a minute go by in which he doesn’t think of you. it’s perhaps not as romantic as you might like, with his owlish gaze pinned on you whether through a monitor or when you’re sitting next to him, picking apart every detail, but you can’t say he doesn’t pay attention to you. sometimes, you think he pays too much.

when he finally touches you, it’s no different.

he watched for weeks before he broached the idea. the hours you spent trying to satisfy yourself, with your hand between your legs or rutting desperately against a pillow— yet you never seemed truly satisfied. it was obvious in your expression, face screwed up cutely in obvious distress, frustrated tears welling in your eyes and streaking prettily down your flushed cheeks. you could only ever take two of your own fingers, he noticed; you’d tried more a few times, seeming to find your own two small ones dissatisfactory, but you could never quite make it, leaving you in a painful limbo that always has you in a particularly sour mood the next time he speaks with you.

the more he watched, the more he realized how truly unsatisfied you were. one night, you spent thirty minutes rocking against your pillow, and despite the wetness that darkened your pretty panties, you eventually gave up, tossing the ruined pillow away from you with a small, frustrated shriek. he wondered why; and more still, why he suddenly found his own hand unsatisfying, and why he could only curve his own thoughts with ones of you on the monitor, spread out prettily.

it was horribly distracting, really. and with anything else, L had to make sense of it.

in the end, he ends up with more questions than answers.

it’s not his fault, really. it’s yours. you’re so fascinating to study, and so eager to let him learn. you’d been so utterly pliant as he pried your thighs apart, stuttering out reassurances that he didn’t have to do this, asking over and over if he was sure. he doesn’t bother to tell you that this wasn’t for you— he wouldn’t be able to think properly until he’d gotten his answers.

there’s none of the awkward hesitation you might’ve expected, no unsure fumbling of hands or knocking teeth. no, L is sure of this as he is anything else he studies, tearing it apart as he sees fit until he’s satisfied with the conclusion. you’re no different, and he’s just as relentless as he always is.

there’s a certain desperate edge to it when he touches you, like he’s trying to tear everything from you by force. he watches you squirm beneath him, mewling and pleading incoherently as the walls of your pretty cunt spasm around his fingers for what feels like the thousandth time (it would seem you can, in fact, take three), and the only thing he can think of is how many more you’ll be able to give him. surely this isn’t your breaking point? no, he knows better, that can’t possibly be it. you can take more, and he tells you so, deafened to your mindless babbling and choked sobs as you try to push him away.

it’s strange that you do that. you get so upset when he actually does pull away:

he has to pin your hands down eventually; clawing at him the way you are is only a hindrance, and it reduces his overall effectiveness significantly. fortunately, you seem to learn quickly, responding especially well to a sharp slap to your inner thigh. (he isn’t sure if it’s a carrot or a stick, given the way you clench around his fingers when he does it. regardless, it works, so he does it again).

it really only occurs to him to stop when your body seizes again, this time falling entirely limp, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. he might’ve worried, but your eyes flutter open only a few seconds later, and it’s then that he considers that you might be rather exhausted.

“are you alright?” his voice is quiet, hoarser than normal, and uncharacteristically gentle. he cocks his head at you, the puppy-like gesture such a stark contrast to the delightful hell he was inflicting on you only moments before that you can’t help but giggle tiredly.

at your assurance that you aren’t on the verge of collapse, not anymore at least, he takes time to clean you up, his touch feather-light and familiar in its softness. he lets you cling to him, winding his awkwardly long body around you in a sort of cradle, tucking your head beneath his chin.

he counts the minutes until you fall asleep, measuring your breaths against his own. as much as he enjoys tearing you apart to see what’s inside, there’s a strange satisfaction in putting you back together again.

this is my first published smut i apologize in advance.

[aminiatureworld]

Old Faces

Characters: Albedo, Xiao, Zhongli, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,151

Warnings: None

Premise: In which the reader runs into their ex

Author’s Note: Did something a little different by changing which character perspective it was for different prompts. I found it a good way to explore this particular prompt.

Albedo

The moment Albedo walked out of his office door he felt his stomach sink a bit.

Though the alchemist liked to think that he was a man of perfect rationality, whether by nature or by will, he couldn’t help but feel a knot in his stomach as he watched you talking to your ex.

Albedo knew that things hadn’t ended well in your last relationship, knew that there had been a lot of shouting and crying done by both parties, all culminating in you getting kicked out of your shared apartment. You didn’t like to talk about it even now, focusing on your relationship with Albedo instead of dwelling on the past. If any reminder of your ex ever surfaced you usually glared it before moving on.

That knowledge made your evidently awkward conversation all the worse. As you leaned against one of the beams which held up the alchemy front, seemingly distancing yourself as much as possible from the person in front of you, Albedo felt a sudden urge to run and wedge himself between the two of you. OF course he would never act upon something so unhelpful, but the alchemist was finding more and more that he’d be seized by illogical wishes the more he opened himself up to you.

Now he curbed his thoughts and made his way over, planting himself firmly next to you and not bothering to introduce himself beyond a curt nod. Not as if he needed an introduction anyways, as Albedo had run into your former partner a few times before, and the icy coldness between him and them was completely natural, at least on Albedo’s part.

“Ah Albedo!” You turned, smiling brightening for a moment. Placing a quick kiss on the alchemist’s cheek, something which caused warmth to immediately flood his face, you turned back towards your ex. “I’m sure you know about my partner, this is Albedo.”

“So you’ve been screwing around with this runt,” you ex shook his head as if disgusted. Narrowing his eyes, Albedo felt irritation wash over him, and for a moment he wondered if there was a potion that might indispose your ex for at least a week that could be easily hidden.

“Yes I’m currently in a relationship with him,” you replied, ignoring your ex’s jeer. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“None of my business? Don’t I have the right to be worried for you?”

“Oh please,” you snorted. “If you really worried about me you wouldn’t have kicked me out. Now if you please I have something to do. I’m very glad to hear that you’re well and getting your life on track and everything, but in truth I think this is really awkward, so could you please give me at least a head’s up next time.”

“You’re still think you’re better than everyone,” your ex spat.

“No, they don’t.” Albedo heard himself say, finding himself more and more irritated by this conversation. “But though they would never admit it, they are certainly better than you. I suggest you listen to their warnings, otherwise there are a few elixirs that could certainly use a human test subject.”

Your ex’s face paled, and they let out a curse before turning away. Suddenly feeling very depleted of energy Albedo sighed.

“Hey, thanks for that.”

“Of course,” Albedo looked up at you. “You seemed uncomfortable.”

“I was,” you admitted. “They weren’t really listening to me, so thank you.”

Leaning over to kiss Albedo once more you stopped in surprise as your partner tilted his head so that your lips met his, instead of the cheek you were aiming for. Pulling back Albedo looked at the ground.

“Sorry, I realize that wasn’t what you were planning.”

“I don’t mind!” Your reply came fast. “I’m just surprised. You okay?”

“Of course I’m alright,” Albedo looked at you. “You should be more worried about yourself.”

“Why shouldn’t I be also worried about you?” You tilted your head. “I know that you don’t really like conflict. And I’m sure that was awkward for you as well.”

Albedo said nothing in reply, merely leaning over to kiss you gently on the forehead. You were so quick to notice things sometimes he couldn’t fathom it.

As the afternoon drifted on Albedo found himself once more thinking about how wonderful you were. There was no one in the world like you, no one nearly so precious to him, so worthy of love. If this was beyond the intelligence of a shadow of the past, well, what did it matter.

  Xiao

“Why don’t you just go back to them?”

You stared at your partner, surprised by the words that had just come out of his mouth. All day Xiao had been as prickly as a cactus, even more standoffish than usual, and all day you’d been trying to coax some words out of the silent yaksha who had taken to standing next to you all day. Now you wondered if that hadn’t been a mistake.

“What do you mean?” You felt your voice waver slightly. “Xiao why are you telling me to go back to my ex?”

You had run into a former significant other of yours at the Inn a day ago, as they had taken up a carpentry contract for the rotting bits of stairwell that made the Inn so difficult to manage sometimes. Though you two had long since been finished, the split had been amicable, and at the time it had felt nostalgic to simply chat with an old friend, a memory of an earlier part of your life when everything had been so different.

Though you were certainly aware that Xiao might have been watching, a suspicion confirmed by the adeptus’ questions that evening, you had never thought much of it. Sure it was your former partner, but it was too long ago to even think about now. You had been a dumb kid then, and though you might not be infallible now, you were certainly different. Standing across from your partner now you realized that not everyone appeared to hold the same opinon.

“Xiao, I know that I was talking to my ex yesterday, but just because I was doing so doesn’t mean I don’t love you or care about you. That was a very long time ago for me, if not for you, and I don’t see in them a partner anyone, I haven’t for years. I understand if you might not feel the same way regarding the timeframe, but there’s no reason to, well, I don’t know what you’re doing right now.”

You stared at your partner, who appeared to be glaring at the railing right next to your hand. You loved Xiao, despite all the rumors that often circulated him and the rest of the adepti. You also knew that Xiao had an incredibly fine-tuned sense of justice and logic. He normally wouldn’t hurl something at you like a challenge. Though he wasn’t perhaps the most well-versed in the ordinary lives of humans, you would hardly call him oblivious to human customs. Partner’s weren’t always partner’s for life. Why then was Xiao acting so cagey?

Now you partner let out a small “hmph!” Shifting himself so he was facing the outside, he stared out at the inky night of Liyue. His cheeks were warmed by the flickering candles of the Inn, and in that moment he seemed oddly vulnerable.

“Xiao,” you ventured. “Is something wrong, are you, are you still uneasy about yesterday.”

For a moment Xiao said nothing, and your heart began to sink. As you turned to walk away however you heard the soft tones of your partner’s voice.

“Would you be happier with them?”

“No,” the answer came automatic and true, “though I may have been their partner once, now they’re merely a friend. There is no one like you to me Xiao, there never will be; I realized that a while ago. Even if you worry about your karma or you lack of knowledge or whatever you shouldn’t worry that I’ll ever leave you.”

You quickly found yourself enveloped in your partner’s embrace. Letting a small sigh of relief pass your lips you returned the embrace fiercely. Feeling the arms around you tighten ever so slightly you found the strangest urge to laugh. Maybe because it was so silly, the idea that you would ever leave your partner. Though it was sad that he would never know how deeply those feelings ran.

“I’ll never go back to anyone but you,” you murmured.

 Zhongli

The first thing Zhongli thought was that you two looked so right together.

Though the ex-archon did not like to admit it, the doubts that he had had at the beginning of the relationship still plagued him. Not the doubts about his love for you, oh no he could never doubt such a thing not if all the stars went out. No, his doubts lay in himself, in who he was. Perhaps it was wrong of him to still linger on his impending immortality, something that you assured him you had come to terms with. It felt disrespectful towards your decision to continuously feel this way. Yet standing at the door of the Funeral Parlor, watching as you chatted with your former partner, Zhongli could not help but feel the familiar pain.

The walk home was spent in a bit of a fog, as Zhongli half-listened to you discuss your day. Normally he found everything about you fascinating, and the things your job put you through were no different. This time though the words trickled off his back like water off a duck’s wings, the image of your and your “ex”, as you called it, pressing down upon him.

“My love?” He found himself saying, not realizing he had made up the decision to ask you something. You paused your conversation, titling your head slightly.

“Is something wrong?”

“No.” It was a lie perhaps, but an understandable one. “I just wished to comment upon the fact that I saw you with your former significant other. I hope that all was well with them.”

“They’re fine,” you replied. “Doing great actually, if what they say is true. Then again then were always prone to lying.” You let out a small laugh.

“Do you miss them?” Zhongli found he could not contain his questions today.

“No, not really. To be honest, talking to them kinda sucked. They sort of half-ghosted me back in the day, and even though you have to keep up appearances and all, I mean I can’t take them to task now, it still hurt.”

“I am sorry to hear that.”

“Oh don’t be!” You shook your head. “I’m perfectly happy where I am now. Even if that whole debacle sucked, it’s worth it if it let this happen.”

The both of you glanced down at you intertwined hands. The image was so perfect in Zhongli’s mind that for a moment all his worries went away, and the golden sun seemed to brighten just a little bit.

Later that evening however Zhongli once more found himself thinking about it. He really had been shaken by you talking with your former partner. Even if they were not the right one, they were still human. Did that not make things easier for you? Happier for you? Zhongli thought back at your hands. How fast would they age in his mind, how fast would you notice how frozen Zhongli was. As if he was carved from rock, the ex-archon could only be eroded slowly. He could not grow old with you.

“My darling?” Zhongli murmured. It was dark and the two of you were in bed. Limbs tangled together, heads nestled close, Zhongli felt as if he could ask what he so feared.

“Yes?” Your voice was heavy with sleep.

“Do you ever regret falling in love with me?”

“No,” your murmured. “I know that you might not believe me, or you might not stop worrying, but you should. I love only you, my dear. I always will. Death will not change how much I love you.”

Zhongli pondered these words as your breathing evened and you slipped off into dreams. How could you say such a thing so nonchalantly, how could you be so sure? Then again, humans always seemed to be more confident in their decisions than those who had been given immortality.

Though the ex-archon wasn’t always fond of sleep, Zhongli felt himself begin to slip away. In the in between of awake and asleep everything seemed painted over, made simple by the logic of one half-dreaming. He would never be rid of these feelings. Perhaps then he should rely on yours. He relied on your for so much already.

Kissing your cheek before finally being dragged into sleep the last coherent thought Zhongli was aware of was that he loved you so very much.

[sunder-soul]

Can you do a Tom Riddle mini fluff where the reader is a hufflepuff and super cuddly, and Tom likes it but won’t admit to it. Non-canon or canon Tom is fine, I’ll let you decide that one. :)

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.  

Tom Riddle, Star Pupil and Child Protégé

Summary: Super affectionate Hufflepuff Reader and Tom staunchly in denial that he fucking loves it.

Wordcount: 1k

Content warning: none.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.  

“Tom – hey, Tom!”

Your voice is barely audible over the chattering students spilling out into the hall, but Tom looks around at once. Barely audible clearly does not mean unrecognisable.

“Afternoon,” he says smoothly as you approach.

Ignoring the formality of his greeting, you throw your arms around his neck and pull him into a hug. “Don’t you ‘afternoon’ me,” you laugh, “I’m not a bloody Professor, Tom, we’re dating.”

Tom’s hands are feather light on your back as he returns the embrace with all the appearance of great reluctance. “Apologies,” he says quietly, “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

You roll your eyes at his equally formal reply as you pull back, assessing his expression. As always, Tom’s dark eyes offer only a great deal of composure and very little else.

“You’re a funny one, aren’t you?” you muse, shaking your head affectionately as you brush a lock of black hair to the side his forehead – it had been knocked out of place by the force of your hug. “What’s going on in that head of yours, huh?”

“I could ask the same of you,” Tom replies evenly without missing a beat.

You give him a look. “I think we both know that you could figure that out on your own.”

Tom’s eyes narrow almost imperceptibly, the expression gone the next second. “What do you mean?” he asks with a perfectly constructed tone of curiosity.

You just laugh and fall into step with the crowd tricking towards the main staircase down to lunch. “Just because I’m in Hufflepuff doesn’t mean I’m stupid, Tom,” you say with amusement, “or did you think that you could slip that little Legilimency trick past me without me noticing?”

Tom’s eyes are glued to your face as he walks beside you down the stairs, but you only flash him a smile. “Don’t worry,” you wink, playfully pushing his shoulder, “I won’t tell anyone.”

He nods slowly, but he doesn’t look away. Something in the intensity of his expression makes your cheeks grow warm, and you have to force yourself to break his gaze.

“Study with me tonight,” Tom suddenly says at the entrance to the Great Hall before you have the chance to slip away to the Hufflepuff table. “Seven o’clock, at the table by the Xylomancy section.”

“Alright,” you say wryly, “see you then.”

He nods once and is gone before you have the chance to say another word.

The hour comes faster than you’d expected, and Tom is already there by the time you arrive.

“You’re late,” he says dryly, neglecting to look up from where he was bent over his notes.

“Your handwriting is absolutely beautiful,” you sigh instead of replying, leaning over his shoulder to admire it.

Tom has gone very still, his quill paused over the gorgeous, slanted words he’d been writing. “Thank you,” he says mechanically.  

You look at him, your face inches from his. “What?” you frown, curiosity piqued by his tone.

Tom looks back, and for a moment you can almost see something flicker in his eyes beneath the layers of composure he’s always hiding behind. Very impulsively, you lean forward and press a gentle kiss on his cheek. Tom’s eyes are wide when you pull away.

“What was that?” he demands at once.

“What was what?” you ask, amused.

“That,” he repeats acidly, waving at you.

You smother the urge to roll your eyes. “Would you prefer if I not do it again?”

There is a brief moment of silence in which Tom looks furious at himself for not saying yes straight away. “I suppose it’s to be expected,” he mutters, looking back at his essay.

“I’ll take that as a no,” you snicker.

He shoots you a sharp look, but you just lace your arms around his neck again. “What are you working on?” you ask casually, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“The Herbology essay,” he says stiffly, making no acknowledgement of your embrace.

“Oh? How’s that going?”

“It was going very well until you arrived,” Tom says dryly.

“Oh my deepest and most sincere apologies,” you grin, hugging him tighter. “How dare I interrupt the great Tom Riddle, star pupil and child protégé –”

“Stop that,” he interrupts in monotone.

“Come on, do you seriously want to spend the whole evening studying?” you ask, letting your head fall to the side so you can get a look at his expression.

“Bold words from a Hufflepuff,” Tom smirks, “or does your desire to work hard exclusively revolve around efforts in distracting me?”

You stand up straight, letting him go in the process – Tom immediately turns in his seat to look around at you.

“Let’s go,” you say decisively, a wide smile on your face. “It’s a beautiful night and I’d much rather go on a walk than stay cooped up in here.”

“You remember that I specifically asked you here to study,” Tom deadpans.

“I can’t hear you, I’m too busy distracting you,” you grin, slowly stepping away.

Something works in Tom’s jaw as he looks at you, and a moment later he lets out a long breath, lowering his quill. “Fine,” he mutters, picking up his bag and waving his wand at his things to pack them away.

“Yes!” you whisper, theatrically punching the air in triumph. “Let’s go! I found this little path that turned out to be a shortcut down to the lake behind the east gardens yesterday, and I really want to show you –”

You seize his hand and tug him forward excitedly, half-dragging him through the school and out the doors into the clear, moonlit night outside. When you get to the lake you sit down with a satisfied sigh by the waterfront, and Tom only hesitates for a moment before slowly sitting down beside you.

“Pretty, right?” you smile, nodding at the reflection of the moon in the dark waters of the lake.

“It is,” Tom says evenly.

There’s a beat of silence, and then you lean your head against his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” he asks quietly.  

“Come on, admit that you like it,” you grin.

“I will do no such thing,” Tom says curtly.

“Don’t need Legilimency to tell that you’re lying, Tom.”

You can almost hear him roll his eyes.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

To request sequels/being tagged in follow-ups, leave a reply in the notes!  💖

[moonrazeeclipse]

Day at the Amusement Park.

The last time I went to an amusement park was when I was 12 years-old. My memories have been mostly shaky, but what I can remember was the happiness and joy I felt with my mother and father.

It’s been tough for me to have fun these days. Being a 23 year-old working a typical nine-to-five shift made it difficult to have time for myself. Stressed about the quotas, the numbers, job stability, and everything else in between. Good sleep has eluded me for months.

Then I look at my girlfriend, Nicha, and my hope has never been brighter.

Ah, Nicha. Everyone else knew and recognized her as Minnie, but the closest to her called her by her real name. If I thought an average office job was a grindfest, then hers was a gauntlet. Idol life meant she had to be up as early as 3 A.M. and she’d run through several sets of makeup, practice, interviews, and appearances. During one of her off days she and her members visited my building while I just so happen to be on coffee break. One funny stare and the next thing I knew, we were hiding our relationship from the whole world.

No matter how exhausted she got, she kept that same positive, happy energy as if she had unlimited battery life. Each occasional glance as I drove to the old amusement park, she was beaming, singing along to the songs on the radio, like she were a child. This was one of her rare off days where they didn’t have any schedules, so maybe that’s the reason why she’s extra joyful too.

The park itself hadn’t changed much since I last visited all those years back. The entrance looked rusted and devoid of any life or color. There seemed to be way fewer people visiting as well. Nicha offered to take me to that newer park with those virtual reality simulators, but I turned it down with a chuckle, saying that I wasn’t making enough money to spend a day there. Regardless, we entered the place, her hand holding mine, dragging me with the brightest smile on her face.

Whatever she wanted to do, I followed along. Nicha ran ahead of me, acting like a child and not a famous, recognizable idol. Being around me must be freeing for her; she could be herself when I’m with her. None of the rides were renovated or refashioned, which gave me that nostalgic feel. Because there weren’t that many visitors, waiting only took less than ten minutes for each ride. Despite my motion sickness, I powered through the first roller coaster without a problem. The second one? I recalled hurling up minutes after getting off that one as a child. Nicha screamed her heart out on the first coaster, but was overcome by fear on the second. She leaned into my chest while I was fighting every urge not to puke mid-ride. I sought a barf bag once we got off, making her laugh.

“Ahaha! You look hilarious!” Nicha mocked.

“Why are you gloating? Don’t act like you were hiding your face on my chest.” I retorted. She blushed in embarrassment before pretending to run away. No matter how much she loved to make fun of me, I couldn’t get upset. Her wholesome smiles made her a great person to hang out with.

Walking along the park, we came across a row of booths. These booths offered challenges in exchange for prizes. Dad won me a basketball as a reward back then. Even with age, one of the game masters somehow recognized me by my eyes.

“Hey, hey! It’s been a long time! You’re all grown now!” He said, calling my attention.

“Oh, hey. How did you recognize my face?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You have your father’s eyes, that’s why! How’s he doing?” He changed the subject.

“Umm, great I guess.” I honestly didn’t know how to answer, since I haven’t spoken to him in years.

Nicha suddenly came in from behind and hugged me. The game master’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“Oh! Is this your girlfriend? Why don’t you step up and show her your father’s talent?” He challenged me on the spot. I sighed as Nicha moved right next to me. Her beaming eyes and bright smile gave me more pressure to do well.

I was poor at sports, so I wondered how bad I’d mess up at ring toss. I didn’t have deft hands like my dad, and I wasn’t practicing at all. I’m better with keyboards, I murmured under my breath as he gave me the rings. First toss. The ring hit the bottle. My eyes widened. Second toss. The bottle was a little more distant than the first. I threw the ring and to my surprise, it hit too. Shock drowned out my girlfriend’s cheers and the yell of the game master. One more ring, one more toss. The bottle was placed at a greater distance compared to the earlier ones. I was doing better than I thought, so maybe my luck would run out on this turn. I flung the last ring, and time seemingly slowed down as I released it from my grip.

One, two, three, four, five. Bingo.

Nicha hugged me in celebration. I made all three tosses as the game master applauded me. Wow. Honestly, that may have been divine intervention, considering how awful I am at these games. It must have been five minutes before I moved because I stayed frozen in place, unable to let my victory sink in.

“You do have your father’s genes in you after all! Go ahead and pick a prize.” The game master said, snapping me back to reality.

I turned to Nicha, implying that she could choose the prize. She took the hint and pointed at a gigantic brown teddy bear. The game master grabbed it from the shelf and handed it over to me. I gave the stuffed animal to her, and she buried her face on its belly.

“Aaahh it’s so fluffy! You’re really good at this, Minki!” She cuddled the bear as I just chuckled and waved goodbye to the game master.

The rest of our day at the park was just riding the rest of the attractions and eating an ice cream sandwich along the way. Nicha and I had so much fun together, refusing to let go of the teddy bear. The sun had set and nightfall came, and our time was almost up. But before we left, there was one more ride we hadn’t gone in. The ferris wheel.

The passenger cabins were suited for four people, so we hopped on one, including our stuffed animal. She placed the bear next to her as the wheel began moving. From where I sat I could see the bright lights of the highway, overlooking the specks of people thousands of feet in the air. Nicha looked out the window before turning to me, taking my hand.

“I’ve had so much fun with you today,” she said, caressing my hand gently and pecking it. “Thank you.”

I gazed into her eyes, gleaming brighter than the stars in the night sky. She stared back at me, looking at me the same way. Then something sprung in me to lock lips with her. Nicha sunk into the kiss, pulling me close and our tongues swirled with each other. She was sweeter and tastier than dessert. I cupped her cheek and she placed her palm on mine, running it across her face.

She broke the kiss and slowly spread my legs. I panicked a little because of the situation we’re in. Nicha feigned ignorance and unbuttoned my pants, pulling them down alongside my boxers.

“Nicha! We’re still in public, remember?”

“Your cock says otherwise,” she replied, slapping my hardened cock with her hand. “I’ve been missing you so much. I can’t help myself.”

She seized my balls, giving them a rub. “You’re full. You’ve been missing me too.”

I groaned as she kissed me from my balls, making her way up to my tip. Her soft lips felt so good on my shaft. She looked at me with widened eyes, satisfied with the pleasure she’s giving me. I slumped into my seat and closed my eyes, allowing the euphoria of her swirling tongue to override my brain. If that wasn’t enough, she added her sensual moans into her slurps, giving me tingles up my spine.

My hands flowed through her black locks, while the rest of my body just numbed in pleasure. I didn’t realize she took me in her mouth, hollowing her cheeks. Nicha bobbed her head back and forth, coating my shaft with her saliva. We didn’t care if anyone caught us in the lewd act. Nicha had her way with me and my body happily fell under control.

Pop. She released me from her mouth after blowing me off for a while. I was really sinking into that excitable feeling too. Appropriate timing too, as she finished up just as the car was about to reach ground level. I quickly buttoned up my pants as she pretended like she didn’t suck my cock leaving the pod.

We reached my car just as the park was closing, and she gave me a few pecks on the cheek. “When we get home, I wanna fuck you so bad.”

“Sure, baby. I’ll let you fuck me wherever you want.” The thought of her splayed body already riled me up and I couldn’t be any more excited to drive home.

I turned the key. Rough gruffs roared from the engine. Again. Gruffs. In frustration I slapped my hands against the steering wheel. The car couldn’t start. Fuck.

“I just had it checked last week,” I grumbled. It was second hand but I didn’t have any excuse. Nicha giggled. She was still smiling as she watched me suffer and curse my car out. Oh, no matter how terrible a day gets, you’re always the jovial one.

Conveniently there was a subway station nearby whose line started and ended at the park. We both got out of the car and decided to take the train home. Nicha still refused to let go of the teddy bear.

Entering one of the cars, we sat at the back end of the left row. All the walking wore our legs out, so I slumped down in my seat. Nicha set the bear at the corner chair before sitting beside me. Drowsiness began kicking in and soon enough, I fell into a deep sleep holding my girlfriend’s hand tightly.

I felt a sensation below my chest that woke me up. My eyes opened slowly, vision blurring my sight. I looked to my left and saw only the teddy bear. She probably went to the bathroom, I thought. I tried going back to sleep, but I felt that twitching in my stomach again. I looked down and to my surprise, my pants were on the ground. Nicha was on her knees, sucking my erect cock.

“Nicha! What did I say about doing this in public?” I whispered, trying to avoid causing a disturbance with the nearby passengers.

She responded by taking more of me into her mouth, making me moan with her humming sounds. “Mmph, I can’t help myself. Your cock rubbed on me as we slept.”

It took all of my willpower not to submit to pleasure, but I was able to scout the area. There weren’t a lot of people on this late train ride home, except a man wearing a business suit calling someone on his phone seated on the opposite aisle.

I slowly hopped from one chair to the next using the rail, keeping Nicha busy on my shaft without her letting go into it. My free hands lifted the stuffed bear from its seat and placed it to where I was sitting. The prized toy was huge enough to act as camouflage from unsuspecting train-goers.

“Yeah. Let’s discuss the business trip to Japan at the cafe. I’ll move up so you can spot me as I get off,” the man said as he stood up from his seat and trudged to the front.

I sighed a breath of relief, but that was only a temporary win. I looked below to see how Nicha was doing and my eyes widened. She stripped off her overalls as her bare legs were now exposed.

“Nicha!” I almost screamed, panicking at the situation she’d got us into. She giggles at my reaction before kissing my tip with her soft lips.

“While you were busy covering us up I took my overalls off. I really can’t wait for you to fill me inside.” She said matter-of-factly.

I groaned in annoyance but I couldn’t help myself. She was opening herself and I guess my patience ran out too.

“We still have a few more stops to go before our stop,” She added, stroking me with her fingers.

My psyche crumbled under her control again. I resisted her lips, but not her hands rapidly pumping my cock. I threw my head back and allowed the pleasure to jack my brain, grazing my hands on her hair again.

I must have drowned deeply to the delight of Nicha’s handjob that I ignored the dings and voice of the operator over the speaker indicating the train’s destination. My eyes, struggling to open, somehow caught a glimpse of a few new passengers entering the car. Quickly I bent over and took her overalls as well as my large coat and veiled my crotch. She continued jerking me off under the covers, eager to get me to orgasm. The commuters gave me either  weird or neutral looks as they walked by. I gave them a gaze of exhaustion, pretending as if I was ill. I just hope they didn’t notice the suspicious bulge below me.

Most of the travelers moved onto another cabin but some of them sat a few rows behind or ahead of ours. Thankfully none decided to sit in the same aisle as us. My hands, which were positioned on my lap, were grabbed by Nicha. She led it down to her clit and I felt her wetness. Even with some bush she was clearly dripping.

“Fuck me, please,” She whispered, each word laced with lust. “I’m so wet for you, babe.”

I hoisted her from the floor and she wrapped her legs around my waist as I rose for a minute before sitting down with her on me. I carefully lined my shaft against her crotch before burying my cock in her walls. She let out a lengthy, low moan as I started ramming into her tight pussy. My hands snuck through her shirt, pinching her taut nipples, making her squeal.

I could feel her juices cream my hair as I grinded back and forth, making sure she feels every inch of my length. One hand escapes her shirt to cover her mouth, preventing her from letting out wild screams. I pulled her face close to mine, her features indicating pleasure as our lips met for a shaky, passionate kiss.

As we continued making out my eyes caught a glimpse of a stewardess slowly making her way across the cabin, punching passengers’ tickets. I broke the kiss off and drove Nicha into my chest, bundling our bodies with her overalls and my coat. The attendant reached us, her formal smile shifting to a confused look at the weird image ahead of her.

“Oh I’m sorry, is she okay?” She asked matter-of-factly.

“Y-yeah. She’s just a little ill, so I’m warming her up, that’s all.” I answered, nodding repeatedly.

Nicha sold my act by freezing in my arms. I reached into my coat and pulled out two tickets. She punched them and smiled as she walked by, believing my lie.

My girlfriend looked me in the eyes, lust ridden over them. I squeal as her finger reaches my cock, still buried in her soaked cunt, stroking me off. Through the pleasant sensation I managed to keep my eyes alert, watching the passengers slowly leave one by one at the next stop. Now it was just the two of us in this cable car.

“We’re alone. Fuck me,” She said as the train started moving again.

Perhaps her eagerness drove me to thrust into her a lot faster than I thought. I rocked back and forth on the chair, drilling her with my shaft. Nicha closed her eyes and let the pleasure fill her, her mouth making a wide ‘O’ shape. At this point we ran out of care for our surroundings, made clear by our audible moaning. Her hands claw my nape and hair deeply, her slender figure bouncing up and down my lap.

The tightness of her pussy, as well as her soft, seductive moans made it hard for me to keep control. I was losing another round to her lewdness and this one would be the hardest of them all. I was all but ready to climax, only slowing down my pumps to keep the euphoria last longer.

“F-fuck, I’m going to cum,” I whispered.

“On me. Fill me, please. Fill me with your cum.”

One. Two. Three. With a heavy groan I reached my peak. I felt shots of warm semen fill her womb. I pumped through my orgasm, shooting flecks of cum in her until I was drained. My hips stopped grinding. I put my head down in exhaustion over that intense, risky session. She cupped my face then kissed me on the cheek.

“T-that was s-so g-good. I can’t wait until we get home for more.”

There’s a clear trail of white on my chair and on my pants. My cock slipped out of her slit as I set her down on the ground.

“This is the last station! Thank you for riding with us.” The operator announced over the intercom. We’re almost at our destination.

I pulled her overalls off my coat and threw it at Nicha. “Put these on, we still have to walk home.”

“I don’t wanna,” she pouted. “I want to go home with your cum dripping down on me.”

I sighed. Nicha decided to be bratty on the way home, when everything was almost perfect and after all we’ve been through. But what else can I do?

I gave her my coat as I took her overalls and placed it in my bag. We got off the train with her wearing my coat, our mixed juices still running down her legs. We enjoyed our little walk home, having forgotten the prized teddy bear that she was attached to all day long, but that didn’t matter. As soon as we reached home, we stuffed our bodies into each other throughout the night.

—————

And that’s my first work done. I didn’t do a lot of editing as I was excited to publish this one. I finally decided to jump into the world of smut writing after being inspired for a while now. Thank you for reading!

[raspberry-arev]

After the Flood (a.k.a. bicci fic)

Hello friends! Some of you may remember that back in... er, who knows, I was writing a Bicci Proposal Fanfic. However, school and lack of motivation got in the way, and essentially, I forgot it existed. Until now. It's done, it's ready, it's here for you to read in whole! (I posted half of it before, but I can't find the thing.)

Characters: Jimmy Kaga-Ricci, Lister Bird, Rowan Omondi, OC (Abby Omondi), Angel Rahimi

Themes: older Ark, marriage proposal, coming out, grand gestures, The Ark Revival Tour, and peak Bicci romance (hopefully)

TWs: mentions of recovery from addiction, anxiety, food

Word count: 9k

JIMMY

It’s often impossible to pinpoint what exactly set off an event – or perhaps multiple – that changed your life as you knew it.

That was not Jimmy’s case, however. He remembered that Barbecue Saturday very well.

This time, it was Rowan and his spouse Abby who hosted. The two couples took turns and Jimmy was oh so grateful for it; the idea of managing Lister’s chaotic culinary experiments more than twice in one summer filled him with dread.

On Saturday morning, Jimmy and Lister packed up and drove all the way to the suburbs of London where Rowan and Abby lived. The sun was bright, everything gleamed buttery yellow, and Jimmy managed to talk Abby into letting him set the table and carry in all the food instead of her, which was quite an accomplishment. She was about as stubborn as her husband.

They rarely invited more than three extra people though. Being in the public eye in your formative years made you appreciate small gatherings of trustworthy people. And one of those proved to be Angel. Or, you know, Feresteh, but her nickname really stuck with them. From that time Jimmy nearly quit the band and Lister impaled himself and almost drowned in mud… yeah, call that a wild youth.

Over ten years later, they were hardly the same people.

After they decided to quit being The Ark for their own wellbeing and safety, Rowan kept his place in the music industry as a songwriter, producer and a solo artist. He went with the name Le Monde, a play on his surname as well as French for “the world”. It suited him. He was the world, never small, never just one thing.

Lister stopped being involved in music after a few collabs. While he was figuring out what to do next, he took a few modelling jobs, acted in music videos and got a small part in a sitcom. Jimmy used that time to get a college degree, but found he just wouldn’t be able to get the usual “college experience” he yearned for, and only got his diploma after doing classes long-distance.

Jimmy and Lister also got together. After many failed attempts at courtship and pretending being friends with benefits was enough… they got together. To Jimmy, it felt like it was inevitable; they have acted like partners long before it was official, they just needed to clean up their own messes before they could be a couple. It wouldn’t have felt right back then, but it did now.

Rowan was already at the grill preparing meat and wrapping camembert in shiny aluminium foil when Angel marched in, tall, elegant, beaming. Jimmy loved to see her again. Each time, she seemed a little more confident, more expressive, more… just more. She really did find her calling in the music industry, just as much as he found his tucked away in rural England with his boyfriend.

Yet, he was to be “tucked away” no longer.

At a certain point, their group fell momentarily silent; everyone was chewing their meal and soaking in the sun. Then Angel said, in an unfamiliar, cautious tone: “You see, I was talking to a couple of people…”

Rowan exchanged a quick look with Jimmy. “Go on,” he said.

“It’s gonna be ten years since you guys disbanded, you know.”

“I know,” Jimmy echoed.

“So. I was thinking. Hear me out, even if you think it’s bollocks…” Angel shot them a look, and then made a motion with her hand as if she was presenting them with something. “Have you ever thought of doing a revival concert?”

As Rowan did a theatrical “errrm”, Jimmy saw straight through his best friend’s bullshit: the two of them rehearsed this conversation. He knew Ro for most of his life, who did he think he was fooling?

His mind offered the answer quickly: Abby, perhaps. He wants to see how she would react, doesn’t he? Rowan would love to do a revival show like that, no doubt, but he valued his wife’s opinion too much to make a decision without her.

He felt movement on his left, and looked Lister in the eyes.

“Well,” said Lister, looking at him. “Wow, okay,” said Jimmy. Both were considering.

Angel swiftly picked up, “Just wanted to run this idea by you. Not because it’s me who would love to see you play once more – I mean, of course I would – but it’s expected to have an amazing turn-out.”

“Obviously, they’re The Ark,” Abby commented matter-of-factly.

“You’re right, Abby. So, guys? How are we feeling about this?”

It was bizzare. Normally, Jimmy would have expected to say he wasn’t at all interested – the boyband life was not for him anymore, tough luck – but recently, he felt a strong sense of nostalgia surge through him as the ten year mark got closer. He found himself reaching for his old guitar way more often, strumming at it, looking for something between the strings he could not reach.

Maybe he could do it just once.

What eventually came out of his mouth was… “I haven’t sung like that for a long time though.”

“You sing to me,” Lister contradicted him, his fingers intertwining with his. “All the time.”

Jimmy felt his face get hotter. “That’s hardly… Are you thousands of people?” He turned to Angel. “How many are we talking, anyway?”

She smiled a kind smile. “I don’t know, Jimmy, that depends on whether you three are up to it or not.”

Rowan cleared his throat. “Personally speaking, I think I wouldn’t mind, as long as we are just doing it once, and not trying for a comeback. I wouldn’t go there.”

“Same,” Lister nodded. “I love you guys, but I’m fine the way things are.”

“Right,” said Rowan firmly. “But… just this once, I mean, why not? We could use some extra money.” With this, he gently let his palm rest on Abby’s belly that swelled under her summer dress like a balloon. (Jimmy fought the urge to aww at them.)

Abby immediately assured him they were more than fine financially, but Rowan barely listened, clearly waiting for his former bandmates to say something. Jimmy felt Lister looking at him, unwavering. So he turned to him and asked, “What do you think? Cool or not?”

“I’m waiting for you to say.”

“Why?”

“Don’t want you to feel pressured or anything.”

“You shouldn’t… Just say what your opinion is!”

“You express your opinion,” Lister retorted, pretending to square his shoulders as a threat. Jimmy lovingly nudged him, and to stop being annoying to the remaining three people at the table, he shrugged, “It doesn’t sound so bad. One concert. I mean, we are still friends after all this time, so why not?”

“In that case, I would love to be the centre of attention again!” Lister exclaimed and gave Jimmy a boyish grin. “The crowd was deprived of my looks for too long.”

“Buddy, you were the drummer,” Rowan said. “Bold of you to assume anyone even looked at you with me and Jimmy jumping at the front.”

Jimmy snorted with laughter, but Lister was quick to defend himself. “Google all Lister Bird slash Reader fanfic and then we can talk about who got noticed, buddy.”

“Oi, you’re not even properly revived yet, stop fighting!” Angel called out, but laughter started bubbling from every direction before she even finished the sentence.

They had a proper business meeting about it in two weeks. And then another and another. When they announced the first date, the sales went through the roof. Jimmy had to get off of social media because the internet exploded with their names and faces. But he sort of found it a bit sweet, that so many people stuck around for them, like old friends that he never had the chance to talk to. One concert became three and then five, which was, honestly, more like a small tour at that point. Jimmy fought to call it After the Flood and won.

LISTER

“You really shouldn’t do that, you know. This bitch is hard to get rid of.”

Rowan tried to hide a small cough and put out his cigarette on the metal window sill next to him. “Hey,” he greeted Lister. “Didn’t expect you to come out here.”

“Yeah.” Lister found it hard to hang around smokers, and unfortunately, he met quite the number of them while they were in the process of rehearsing. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“What’s up?”

“Can we walk, like, over there? So… nobody can hear us through the door?”

Rowan eyed him suspiciously, but he followed him to the railing on the edge of the roof. There, he turned to him, seeming to fight himself.

“I’m really looking for a less shitty way to ask this,” he admitted eventually. “But… What have you done now, Lister?”

Lister felt a sort of numbed cramp seize his stomach for a second. It took a lot not to let anger overcome him. They were well over thirty, how the hell was Rowan still treating him like a fuck up? But no. This was more important than old grudges.

“Nothing! As of yet,” he assured his bandmate.

“Okay…?”

“Right. So. Erm. Nobody is here, right? Fine. I had this idea… you know, Jimmy and I have been together for a long time and I obviously care about him a lot, I always have, you kind of know that…”

“Yes, go on,” he pushed on gently.

“Fuck it. I want to fucking propose!”

A giant weight fell off his shoulders when he spoke those words aloud. It was like coming out all over again, god.

Rowan’s eyes twinkled. “Oooh,” he almost whispered, “and you need my help with that? I’m your man, tell me the plan!”

“There is none right now.”

“Oh, okay. I can still help if you want.”

This was another part Lister dreaded discussing.

“I… okay, so, I was thinking of… doing it on stage?”

His friend’s face changed rapidly.

Lister’s dream of a grand proposal to the love of his life in brilliant stage lights and the roars of the audience faded away. “That’s a no? That’s a no. Shit, forget it then.” He felt sick.

“Lister, I’m absolutely positive you mean well,” Rowan started. “But Jimmy would-“

Speak of the devil.

The door opened and out of it peaked Jimmy’s unshaven face. “Oh! There you both are.”

Rowan froze for a second. Lister was ready to improvise. “Alright, so how about I come by yours after practice and you transfer the files to me?” He smiled, but impaled Rowan with a meaningful look.

Fortunately, he caught on. “Oh yeah, yeah, that could work.”

“What files?” Jimmy inquired as he joined them, oblivious.

“Rowan has some of our old drafts still saved. I was thinking of squeezing in a drum solo somewhere, maybe with spoken word over it?”

“Sounds cool,” Jimmy smiled at him and slightly brushed the back of his hand with Lister’s. “Anyway, Dick the Sound Guy wants us all in there immediately.”

“Stop calling him that or I’ll have a Freudian slip at some point,” Lister laughed and guided Jimmy back into the building. Him and Rowan managed to exchange a subtle nod over the shorter man’s head.

JIMMY

As they were packing up that day, Jimmy tried incredibly hard to catch Rowan alone. Just like the old times when he needed to discuss something personal. And yet again, it involved Lister. Jimmy felt young and stupid again, but not really in a good way.

Finally, he managed to stop him while he was putting away the equipment. Lister was meanwhile in the office of their temporary new manager. “Ro, I need advice!” he whispered to his best friend.

“What about?”

“It’s Lister.”

“Oh dear Jesus, I’m having flashbacks.”

“Don’t be a dick, it’s important.”

“Okay then, tell me.”

“It kind of involves you too. Just… tell me if it’s a good idea.”

“Go on!”

“I want to, uh… I want to tell people Lister and I are a couple…” He took a breath. “Which means I would be coming out as gay as well, probably. I know that’s, like, a huge pile of drama, so if you don’t want me to complicate the tour, just say it, it’s honestly kind of irresponsible when I’m thinking about it now…”

“Jimbob. Easy.” Rowan waited for a second for Jimmy to wind down, leaning on a stack of five chairs, and then asked, “Are you really sure about it? Do you want people to know?”

Jimmy felt his thoughts humming in his head. He forced himself to say exactly how he felt.

“I know it’s gonna sound super dramatic, but I don’t want to die not saying it,” he explained slowly. “It became really important to me… I don’t know when. But it did. Talking about this part of me, too. I’m just worried about what Lister might say.”

“So I take it that you didn’t discuss this?”

“No way. I don’t even know how to start!” Jimmy exploded in loud whispering. “I should have talked to him a long time ago, but I just didn’t have the balls.”

“I get that, but… just bring it up. Like, theoretically. What if. I think he’s going to support you through it.”

“How could he?”

“What are you even saying at this point?

“You think he would like people sticking their nose in our personal business? I feel like it’s so unfair to him and his privacy… And I feel terrible about still wanting to do it… even though it’s inconsiderate. It’s all a fucking mess.”

“Okay, okay.” Rowan massaged his nose. He looked like he was trying incredibly hard not to snap at Jimmy and be at least somewhat encouraging. “Look, no spoilers, but I am going to say this. Lister absolutely will notbe mad and he will want to talk about the two of you if you give him the chance. That is all.”

“Wait, what? Ro, did he tell you something?”

“I am not talking!”

“Is that how you treat your best friend in a life crisis?!”

“You’re putting me in a life crisis, don’t you dare play the pity card! I swear, the two of you are a nightmare.”

“Rowan! Come back!”

LISTER

His visit to Rowan’s place was very brief, but it was enough for him to understand Rowan’s concerns. Eventually.

Lister explained that it didn’t feel appropriate for him to just whip out a ring in a restaurant: Jimmy was his love, his dream boy, as cliché as it sounded, and he wanted to do something that would measure up to all he was feeling. Which was… well, a whole lot. Like a “get down on one knee in front of thousands of people” lot.

And yet.

“It’s all great, and I’m sure there are people in the world that would love it, but we are talking about Jimmy.”

“Come on. I know, he’s private about… well, everything, but…”

“That, yes,” Rowan pointed at him while holding a can of coke, “but don’t you think this proposal on stage would be an anxiety-inducing situation? Because to me, that sounds like a lot of pressure and nerves.”

“He hasn’t had attacks since we moved and he went on those meds.”

“That doesn’t really –“

“Matter. Yeah. Yeah, I get your point, mate, he would die of shock. And everybody watching him. Fuck, I’m stupid.”

“No, you’re not,” Rowan grinned. “The two of you are just different… in some aspects. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Will I? Lister asked himself as he was driving back to the hotel that Jimmy and him were staying at for the time being. This was the only thing I came up with, like, ever.

When he swept his key card over the sensor and the door to their suite opened, he was greeted by the smell of dinner. He took a look into their little kitchen and found his boyfriend sitting at the table with his laptop. He didn’t notice him for a second, so Lister came up behind him and hugged him tightly.

Jimmy yelped.

“Where’s the food?!” Lister shook him a little, imitating Batman.

“Your hands are so cold!” Jimmy protested, but there was a trace of laughter in his voice. “On the stove, you bully!”

Lister almost flew over there, looking under the lid on the pot.

“Pasta,” Jimmy shrugged. “I needed my comfort food, so that’s that for you.” Lister smiled and thanked him, because yes, he was starving. Pasta was Jimmy’s go-to meal to cook, as it was quick to make and he was a pasta-sauce prodigy.

While his dinner was heating up in the microwave, Jimmy made small-talk about the supposed unused lyrics Rowan and him exchanged. Lister found it hard to lie to him, so he just turned to playful teasing, telling Jimmy to stop sniffing around, he’ll hear it when the time comes.

“Oh come on,” Jimmy huffed. “I’m just asking! And it’s my show, too. Spill it.”

“Sorry. Totally gonna steal your spotlight.”

“Lister, just tell me what it is.”

“A song.”

“What song?”

“A song that you have to wait for.”

“Babe, what song?!”

Lister took him by the waist and pulled him against his body. “Are you trying to ‘babe’ me into telling you right now? Is that what’s happening? Right in front of my pasta?” He went in for a kiss, and Jimmy tried to murmur something against his lips… but then he gave up. They leaned into each other and kept kissing until Lister pulled away to open the microwave. He got himself a fork and went to sit down after the long day, but Jimmy stayed there, right next to the sink. Looking a bit like he was going to hurl.

Before Lister could ask if he’s okay, Jimmy sat down on the other chair with a determined look on his face.

“There is something I need to discuss!” he blurted out.

Lister cautiously dropped the fork back into the bowl. “Okay…? And it’s something to do with me, yeah?”

“Yep. A lot to do with you.” He was visibly nervous. He clasped his hands together, as if Lister would have not noticed. “I… I was thinking about this one thing, and I need your opinion about it.”

“Cool. Go for it.”

“It’s about our relationship.”

“Are you aware you sound very sinister right now?”

He wildly shook his hands as if he wanted to dry them off. “Sorry, didn’t mean to,” he apologized in a strained voice. Then he cleared his throat, sharply lifted his eyes towards Lister’s and exclaimed, “I would like to reveal that we’re together.”

Lister felt everything about his face go lax in shock. He opened his eyes round and wide, his mouth followed, and Jimmy looked like he would faint.

“I, er. I just. I thought about it and I think it’s a decent idea and – please say something, Lister, before I get a fucking heart attack right now.”

It must have been so hard for him to speak up. Lister thought of his proposal plans and felt his mouth slowly form a smile. “I think it’s… brilliant! Yes, I would really like to do that!”

“Wait, really?”

“This is – I didn’t think you would want to, when did you change your mind?”

Jimmy shrugged, grinning in a sheepish way that made him look much younger. And cuter. “I thought I just… wanted to be open about this part of my life. Figured it’s time to say we are together. But if you, like, don’t feel like it, then…”

Lister beamed. “I feel like it. If you do, I do, trust me.” He walked around the table and lifted Jimmy into a hug. He laughed, relieved.

This was when it dawned on Lister… it was not such an easy matter. Exciting, yes, but it would gather all kinds of attention. He leaned onto the table, grabbed his dinner and him and Jimmy started talking about the situation it would put them in. If both are truly okay with it, how much would they reveal, when is the best time to do it. They kept talking through the bathroom door and while they were changing into pajamas in their bedroom.

As they were laying down and Lister gestured Jimmy to crawl into his arms, they became quieter. “You know why I also want to say it?” Jimmy mumbled, lying on the soft linen with one eye open.

“I’m all ears.”

“If I have to see one more article about which model or actress you’re screwing, I’m gonna lose the remaining marbles that I have.” Lister started chuckling as Jimmy awkwardly added, “Which is, admittedly, not many. Most have been lost in my youth.”

“Oh no,” Lister laughed and turned Jimmy’s face upwards to his. “So this just in: my boyfriend is possessive. Fancy that.”

“I’m not, it’s… I am… Oh, you hated Jowan, stop being smug.”

“I know I did, we both know. But jealous Jimmy? That’s a rare sight.”

“It’s just super uncomfortable. It’s all women, as well.”

“Heteronormativity is a bitch,” Lister nodded. He snuggled closer and let out a breath, “Don’t worry though. I am exclusively your problem.”

Jimmy kissed him, smiling. Lister felt lightheaded. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Jimmy’s. He loved this – he loved how much he felt for him after so long they have been together. It never ceased or faded away… because it was Jimmy.

Lister was pretty sure he would love him until his last day on Earth.

It was time to start looking for a ring.

JIMMY

Not much later, they had a team meeting scheduled with all the important people at their recording company that were involved with their tour. Jimmy and Lister announced their intention to come out during the tour, and with Rowan’s full support, it wasn’t too hard to win the producers over. Jimmy had anticipated the PR people would deem it overly risky to their image, but they were fairly chill. As Rowan had put it, “As if anything about The Ark was ever about pandering to conservatives.”

They agreed that their demographic is absolutely different, and before they knew it, they were being ignored while people were exchanging speculations about how it all could help them promote the tour.

“If they do it on, like, the second show…”

“…we could sell some extra tickets after… another wave…”

“…that would probably be a good time to release a single, something related to…”

Jimmy felt something in his chest sink. This is why they left. These people took something good, something from their hearts and souls, and wanted to turn it into money. Some part of him understood, that’s how business works, but mostly, he just felt really sad for them.

“Oi!” Lister exploded over the chatter. “Sorry, but we are still here, and – Could you maybe not act like this coming out is a marketing tactic?!”

The room went briefly silent.

Jimmy squeezed his hand under the table to say a silent thanks. Then he choked out, “That’s not why we’re doing it!”

Their producer looked at them over the top of her reading glasses.

“Of course it’s not, love,” she cooed. “But to say it bluntly, I think you need all the help you can get.”

After many weeks and many briefings, they had agreed on making the announcement on the third show. Right in the middle of tour. Everybody was nervous, expectant, but there was this air of hopefulness when Jimmy and Lister ended up alone together. The glimmer in his partner’s eye when their eyes met promised something… no, it was not living absolutely openly, they still wanted privacy. But it felt like they were sealing something.

This was not an easy coming out.

But they were in for it. Together.

LISTER

“Just so I know,” Rowan said as Lister was trying to take off his Doc Martens with all his might, “what did you tell Jimmy this time?”

“We’re still working on music.”

“We should really make something then, before you go. I am not gonna lie to my childhood best friend, y’know.”

Finally, the boot came off, and Lister got off the little cabinet in Rowan’s hall. Abby was already making tea, and when she saw him walk by the kitchen door, she just nodded at him. Lister smirked at her; she loved pretending to still be mad at him for taking Rowan to a strip club on his stag night. (Or was it dancing on the table at the wedding reception? Anyhow.)

Rowan sat him down in the lounge and started the conversation with: “So. The big reveal is getting closer. How are we feeling?”

“I – great, good. I’m fine, and Jimmy seems to be fine, so yeah, we’re fine.”

“But I assume that’s not what you need help with?”

“You assume right. I will need you to bear with me, though.”

“That sounds interesting,” Rowan retorted and flashed a smile at Abby who was bringing them two steaming mugs of earl gray. “And when I say interesting I mean impending doom, why thank you, Abby!”

“No problem.” She slowly leaned over, careful not to lose balance with her belly, and kissed him on the forehead. “I’ll be off for my swimming class then. You two behave, will you.”

As she was making her way to the hall, Lister jokingly remarked, “No goodbye kiss for me?”

She stopped in the middle of the room and exchanged a glance with Rowan. Rowan, stirring his tea with a teaspoon, said, “Please don’t kill him, I need him for the concert.”

“Come on, you guys, I was fully kidding. Goodbye, Abby,” he waved to her with a bright smile. “Enjoy your swimming stuff!”

“Thank you, will do.” She disappeared.

“Just a question!” he called after her. She came back with an eyeroll. “Is it, like, harder to swim when you are pregnant? Like, I don’t mean to insult you or anything, I’m just genuinely wondering.”

She, too, put aside her snarky façade for a second. “Actually, I go there because it’s relieving. The water makes you float, so the weight of the baby is taken off my back and legs for a little while.”

“Oh! That’s clever.”

“Thank you. The more you know, am I right?”

“You know what I was just thinking of?”

“Yeah? I really have to go.”

“When you’re swimming, you’re a human submarine for the baby.”

It seemed to take Abby a minute to realize what he was saying. Very slowly, she brought her palm to her forehead.

Rowan then didn’t make it much better by adding, “Since when does a submarine have water inside? That would defeat the purpose.”

Lister thought about it and then gasped. “So… right now, you are a reverse human submarine!”

Abby looked at them both, clearly lost for words. “I’ll just go…” She closed the lounge door behind her.

After a good ten minutes of Rowan half laughing and half chastising Lister for saying the things he says, Lister threw his hands up in the air and claimed they seem to have “traded their sense of humour for a marriage certificate” two years ago.

Rowan immediately followed: “Speaking of marriage, any updates on that? You and…?”

“Well, my friend, that is precisely what we need to talk about today.”

“Okay. The meeting is officially in session, go.”

“First: am I the only one that was really surprised by Jimmy wanting to make us public? Because I really didn’t expect that at all.”

“Yeah, I guess he’s still full of surprises, huh?”

“That he is. However, Ro, I was thinking, and I still want to do a proposal. No – let me finish, it’s not that straightforward. I spent a lot of time talking to Jimmy about what he wants and how he sees the future, and you were super right in saying that I should never put him on the spot like that. Being so exposed to the public when we were kids messed with us in a big way, all of us.”

Rowan snapped his fingers in agreement.

“The idea is… It would be a proposal before a proposal. Like… I don’t know, announcing that I have the intention of proposing to him soon. And asking him if he is okay with that, you know? If he’s okay with the idea of saying yes. That way,” Lister gesticulated with his hands, “he’s not forced right there to say yes, the eventual real proposal can be sort of expected, which would calm him down a bit, but still a surprise, because when is it going to happen? I’m not saying.”

Rowan stared at him for about three seconds. “That was… a whole thing, buddy.”

“Thoughts?”

“I’m just trying to wrap my head around this. Wait. You want to do a proposal before the actual proposal.”

“Yes.”

“On stage. At the same time you are announcing that the two of you are together?”

“No! I mean, I don’t think so. I thought like, more at the end, maybe.”

“Proposal before a proposal…”

“It’s clever, if you think about it.”

“To me, it just seems very extra, Lister. Which I know is your trademark, but –”

“No, but listen. I want to propose to Jimmy. He wouldn’t survive a big flashy proposal, but I still want to make it a big deal, because it is. Ergo, I announce that I want to spend the rest of my stupid little life with him and ask him if it is okay to propose to him one day, likely soon.”

Rowan’ expression changed. “That does make sense,” he said. “For the two of you, especially.”

“Okay then: dear dad, do I have your blessing?”

“Never call me that again. But yes.”

“You are the closest to being a father out of all of us.”

“That is not what it sounds like and you know it.”

JIMMY

The first show was an explosion of feeling and memories. Nauseous with anxiety, burdened with expectation and weak in the knees, Jimmy ran into his first appearance on the stage the same way he would run into the middle of the highway. The lights and screams and colours almost blew him to pieces and then glued him back together. His first words addressed to the crowd and the earth-shattering screams that came in answer woke something in him, a force of nature. The gig was rather small compared to those they ended on ten years ago, but the crowd loved them to pieces and oh, he felt so alive.

The second show was slightly bigger, yes, and their fans didn’t disappoint. Plenty of pride flags were chucked at him, and he waved them and gave them to his mates and it made him even more excited about what him and Lister were going to do the next time round. These people stayed with them for so long, this sea of faces that looked toward him… for many of them, he would be the representation they need, again.

He remembered being a young trans boy, questioning if there is a life, a future, for him. Where were all the queer adults? The trans adults? How could he imagine adult life if he had never seen someone like him live it?

There he was, now. Adult. Gay. Transgender. A lot of time, he still knew very little about what he was doing, but he had a boyfriend who knew equally little, and together, they might be just what some queer kid in the crowd yearns to see.

LISTER

It was D-Day. Christ and Mary, it was, and they were going to say it. Finally. The staff have been informed, the security has been strengthened, they did everything so that some fan wouldn’t try and knock them the fuck out…, but he was still incredibly nervous. Minutes before the show, among all the rush and flourish, he caught Jimmy and pulled him to the side, apologizing to a couple of sound guys securing some cables on the ground.

“How are you doing?” he blurted out.

“I’ll die, but maybe in a good way. You?”

“Same. Or I’ll throw up, in a bad way.”

“Wait really?”

“No, I’m sick, but not the vomiting kind.”

“Anxiety! Welcome to the club!” Jimmy shouted as he was being ushered away under the stage so he could come up on a platform.

More pushing, more ushering, and he stood next to Rowan.

Their intro – a dramatic organ solo as light flashed through the artificial fog like sunbeams – was rumbling all around them. The crowd was losing their minds. He didn’t know how, but he still heard Rowan whisper:

“Lister, promise me you won’t do the other thing today!”

“Told you I won’t, stop being patronizing!” he snapped back, but then it was their time, and they were on a stage, coming up from behind Jimmy, each on every side, acting astonished as they supposedly came down from Noah’s Ark onto new land.

Listed dared to put his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder as they did so.

The show was on.

Here we go.

JIMMY

During the concert, he used every opportunity to interact with the audience that he had. It felt a bit manipulative at first – he wanted them to be up for a bit of talking, eventually – but then the feeling of guilt faded away. However complicated his relationship with the fans used to be, these people were the fans. They stayed loyal to them, they kept their music in their hearts, and came to this revival gig…

It would be okay, okay, okay.

When the last accords of the last song whizzed away into the night and he was thanking the crowd that stomped and cheered and waved signs in hope of an encore… he stopped at the front of the stage. Rowan strummed a few last cords on the guitar and fell silent.

He wished he had somewhere to sit down. His legs were shaking.

But he was not afraid. Not really.

“Now, you guys, these shows are very special for us. Because every single one of you, as we’re standing here and looking at each other, you have been waiting for so long…” His voice was drowned out by cheers. “For so long, you have not forgotten us, you came to our shows, you have been amazingly supportive, and I want to thank you, from the bottom of my heart!” He shouted the last few words as the sea of faces roared in joy.

When they calmed down again, he continued. “And because you are the ones that stuck with us… because of that, I would like to say a few things to you.

If you know about the days of my youth…” Pause as people laughed and shouted affirmations at him. “…you would probably remember that I was presumed to be in a relationship with a person that is standing on the stage with me, right now.”

It was good that only a few people cheered. But it made him sick to the stomach, still.

“Okay, no,” Rowan came in, and people applauded, and he pointed at them with a not-so-fake scolding look, “no, no, don’t you woo at me, young lady. This is so utterly not a thing! Jimmy has never left the friendzone!”

“Same here,” Jimmy laughed and patted Rowan across the back, maybe a little too hard, overcompensating. “Did you all, like, miss that Rowan came out as straight all those years ago?”

People were laughing. Nobody really cared, they just found it funny. Rowan claimed he was leaving it to Jimmy before “the PR team has me taken out”, and retreated a few steps, leaving Jimmy to face the crowd again.

Deep breaths, he told himself.

“What I wanted to say was that there was one thing that those people back then got right.” Breathe in, breathe out. “I am gay.”

Two seconds of silence and then an absolute thunderstorm of an applause. A rainbow pride flag landed at his feet and Jimmy took it, with meek laughter, and put it around his shoulders. He heard Rowan cheer and clap too, and for what felt like years, he couldn’t get a word in. He wished the whole world could be like this.

“I – gosh, thank you all, I’m not sure whether it was a surprise,” he finally managed to say, his voice breaking a little from surprise, “but yeah. I am a trans, gay man…” The hall exploded with joyous noise. “…and it’s not all that there is to me, but I’m here. And queer. Hello.”

He thought he was going to pass out. He had a clever segway prepared, but he couldn’t remember a word of it. This was the moment. He wanted to say it, but at the same time… How could he? It was so hard, why do things have to be so hard?

“The other… the second thing,” he said, gripping the pride flag. “It is that… wow, it’s hard. It’s that I am…” He felt himself turn around, and like a lost child call: “Lister?”

Lister climbed out from behind the drum set instantly. Nobody cheered, there were only confused whispers. Jimmy looked at him, asking for help without words, and he knew, as he always did. Jimmy found a place to look, above the crowd, beyond everything, as Lister stepped in and slowly took his hand.

“The second thing is that we are together,” Lister said, his voice steady.

And the crowd lost it.

There were people wailing in happy tears. Screaming at the top of their lungs. A dissonance of chanting their names, all at a different rhythm, before Rowan ran up to them and hugged them and spurred the crowd on, and they stood there wrapped in a pride flag, and Jimmy was kind of crying and leaning on Lister, and it was another half an hour of a pure mess, before they really left the stage with their ears buzzing and eyes wide.

Jimmy and Lister tumbled into a corner somewhere, and Jimmy had happy tears streaming down his cheeks and they were kissing and holding each other and shaking.

“Oh, I’m such a mess,” Jimmy laughed as he was smearing tears and foundation on his sleeve.

“And I love you so much,” Lister blurted out in a moment of raw honesty.

“Me too,” Jimmy took one of his hands and kissed the palm. “I love you so fucking much it’s unreal sometimes.”

LISTER

This was, hands down, the most jittery Lister got before a show. Ever.

Currently, he found himself sat at an old sofa in the dressing room, hands clasped and both legs involuntarily jumping up and down. Was it annoying? Likely. But he had to let his knees jump in such a vigorous way because if he hadn’t, his teeth might start clattering.

He hated that he couldn’t just be pumped and excited. He had to feel this unsettling, buzzing mess of an emotion. Anxiety, as Jimmy informed him. This is what it’s like for an anxious person, he said… except make it all the time and often for no real reason.

Lister shook his head a little.

His reason, too, was basically nothing. He knew. As if Jimmy would actually reject him or something…

Or would he?

Maybe he could? Oh God, maybe he could…

“Hey! You’re actually scaring me, what’s up with you?!”

Lister blinked in confusion. He saw Jimmy as he was making his way over. A half scolding, half worried look decorated his face.

He lowered his voice when he added: “The last time I saw you like this was when you had withdrawal symptoms. You can tell me if that’s what it is.”

“It’s not that. I’m fine,” Lister insisted. Crap, he was panicking too hard to actually come up with anything convincing. Come on, Bird, focus… He’s onto you…

“Actually,” Rowan’s voice travelled to them from the corner, “I just think we had weird coffee.”

“What? But you’re fine.”

“Yeah, well,” Rowan continued to make up a story, “we both got one, but I didn’t like the taste, it was too strong. Lister felt bad for throwing them out so he finished both of them, didn’t you?”

“Ye-Yes,” he finally caught on. Had to admit, Ro was impressive at this. Lister started to believe what their friend used to say: that he can lie very well, he just chooses not to. “I didn’t want to waste it. The coffee.”

“Lister,” Jimmy grunted in disbelief, hands on his hips. “That was a brilliant idea, you walnut! Look at yourself, you’re gonna be sick now!”

“I’m not.”

“You look it.”

“I’m just…” He rubbed his clammy hands together. “I’m just anxious I guess.”

“Well, no shit. Why do you think I avoid caffeine?” Jimmy sighed and dropped into a squat in front of Lister. He took Lister’s hands in his. “Seriously, are you okay? You’re not gonna have a heart attack, are you?”

“No, babe. I’m alright.” The last thing he wanted was for his boyfriend to be anxious too.

He looked down at Jimmy. The realization dawned on him, as he noticed that his partner dropped onto one of his knees to be more comfortable; very soon, the roles will be reversed. It will be Lister down on one knee, only Jimmy would be standing up in that case…

Okay.

Wow.

This is what true internal screaming felt like.

“You need water, as in now,” Jimmy decided and jumped up. “I’ll need you to drink at least three glasses before we start, that should help.”

He rushed out of the room to get hands on some water. Rowan and Lister looked at each other, the pretence gone.

“Alright?” Rowan nodded.

“I’m fucking choking, dude,” Lister replied.

It almost looked as if his friend was going to give him advice, or maybe say something generic and calming… but instead, Rowan let out a small laugh. Lister’s lips started twisting without him giving the command.

And then the two collapsed laughing. The pressure of this being the very last show and the knowledge of what Lister was about to do at the end of it were just the right recipe for hysterics.

Jimmy didn’t bother to ask twice what the joke was, as long as they promised they weren’t laughing at him.

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

As the concert was coming to an end and the crowd was cheering and chanting for an encore, Rowan seized the opportunity and called: “Alright, friends, we would like to indulge you in a little experiment! Can you join me at the front, Lister?”

Lister got out from behind the drum set and jogged to meet the rest of the group. Jimmy smiled, but his eyes studied both of them suspiciously. “What is this?”

Lister lazily raised his arms with the palms of his hands towards the crowd. “I have to admit, we kind of didn’t tell Jimmy what this is about. Sorry, my guy.” People laughed. Rowan signalled someone backstage, as Lister added: “But just so you don’t feel left out, you can have this triangle.” A nervous assistant handed Jimmy the instrument and ran off again.

Everybody was jeering and whistling, but there was an air of anticipation in the air.

“Oh wow, that’s generous of you,” Jimmy grimaced.

“I know, right? Anyhow.” Lister took a step forward, trying to calm himself. He could do this. He had acting jobs, he could absolutely pull this off.

He was Lister freaking Bird! He was the fan favourite!

“Dear audience, allow me to tell you a tale,” he addressed the crowd in his best narrator voice. A couple of screams rose from the crowd, but everyone else was listening intently. Behind him, Rowan started strumming a little melody on his guitar – one they created especially as a backdrop to Lister’s talk.

“I know this is a little unusual,” Lister admitted to the sea of people, “I know that you’re used to stories coming to you via this man’s voice,” he pointed at Jimmy, “and this man’s lyrics.” Rowan. “I know that I am just a simple drummer in this arrangement. But today, I will do the voice and the words. Because, well… Talking all the time is the one thing I am actually good at.”

That made the crowd laugh. Good. Great.

“But now, on with the story!” he exclaimed and made a motion with his hands as if he was showing them a canvas.

“Picture this. We are all fifteen, stuffed into a tiny studio in London,” he smiled, as if nostalgic. His voice flowed out of him in a steady melody, like the hum of a river. “We all had that awkward long hair phase – yes, I see some true veterans in the audience today. Good,” he smiled at a couple of girls in the front who seemed to know exactly which haircuts he meant. He raised his hands again. “I am sitting outside the recording room, behind the glass. On the other side, there’s Jimmy. I can see him clearly, I hope you can too,” he said, keeping his dreamy smile. “The giant black hoodie. The fringe almost hiding his eyes. Jimmy waits for the cue, bouncing up and down,” he chuckled as he swayed up and down on his toes, “and then starts singing the interlude in our first album. It’s only about two lines that we need to record, but I remember wishing it lasted longer. Obviously. Because his voice is amazing.”

The audience started yelling and swooning at once. Lister was honestly more okay looking at them than if he had to look at Jimmy and see what his reaction is.

Now, here comes the real cliché.

“But then,” he paused with real embarrassment in his voice, “then he looked up from under his hair… at me, with those big brown eyes… and asked me, if he was okay.”

Breathe in, and:

“My friends, that was the moment I have fallen for Jimmy Kaga-Ricci.”

A roar of screams started rising from the audience, when Rowan strummed dramatically on the guitar, as if something tragic had happened. Lister shot a look at Jimmy and found him laughing. Surprised, but amused.

Thank fuck. I’ve never told him that before.

On the outside, he theatrically turned to Rowan and scolded him: “I was just getting sentimental here?”

Rowan shrugged and strummed a more positive jingle. Everyone laughed and clapped. Lister was starting to enjoy this, actually. He sighed and walked forward onto a prolonged platform where Jimmy was usually stood on.

“Well, maybe my trusty assistant was right with the sound effects,” he admitted jovially. “Because my crush absolutely did not like me back for years. Hey, but that’s not to throw shade at the guy,” he added quickly to prevent any pitiful reaction that would make Jimmy feel bad. “Because you have to consider that I was and still am a bloody mess of a person.” That amused the listeners. Lister turned round, as he exclaimed. “I am the creator of problems, the maker of terrible decisions. We can all agree that Jimmy is a lovely lad…” He had to pause for the overwhelming reaction in support of that statement. “Yes, he is, but inflicting my teenage self upon him, that would just not be right.”

Jimmy suddenly clanked the metal stick against the triangle in an absolute cacophony to draw attention to himself. “Excuse me,” he called to Lister, “could you stop insulting yourself? I would enjoy that.”

A girl somewhere below them screamed as if she was getting murdered. They exchanged a quick glance, as if to say a little yikes, but then Lister laughed it off.

“Sorry, sorry,” he continued. “Through it all, Jimmy was always here for me. He was one of my first real friends. He was understanding when I needed it most, and ready to kick my ass when I needed it most.” He smiled at his boyfriend and hoped his voice is not shaking. “Look at you, Jimmy! I’m being embarrassing in front of hundreds of people and you still haven’t walked off stage.”

Jimmy laughed and lightly hit the triangle. He was ever the professional, but his eyes glimmered in curiosity. Expectation.

Lister kept looking at him. Rowan was strumming a slightly different melody now, and if Lister did say so himself, the atmosphere was fucking perfect.

“What I want to say is…, I feel that we were together before we got together. We were always partners. A great team. Maybe you wouldn’t think the same,” he admitted to Jimmy, “but a girl can dream. Oh! A rhyme!” He exclaimed to a symphony of awwws and ooohs. People were laughing again, clapping here and there. “That will be the only time!” Lister made a face of feigned shock. “Or not? Wow, I’m unpredictable!”

“You’re hot,” Jimmy rhymed with unexpected confidence.

The crowd was screaming their heads off at this interaction. Even Lister was a little flustered. He came back to his bandmates and gestured toward Jimmy, who was still smirking a little. “And he can improv, what’s not to like, honestly!”

Now, there came the challenge. Lister took a deep breath and prayed to all deities that were listening for this to come off as more sweet than cringy.

His voice fell into a different rhythm. One he kept studying every possible minute from any good slam poetry or original poem reading he could find online.

“But now, if our audience permits,” he put one hand on his chest, turning directly to Jimmy, “I would like to address you. Because, dear Jimmy, although I love each face in the crowd, my friends, my family, those that are both… I can state loud and proud that the biggest part of my heart goes to you.” He grinned sheepishly at Jimmy’s stunned expression, when he added: “If not all of it.”

“I can only guess what goes on in that mind, whether you think this is suspicious or kind… I can’t know these things. But there is one thing I do know. That no matter how much we grow, what we lose and what we gain, through all the smiles and all the pain, I will love you. It’s as big and as small as this. And today was an opportunity I couldn’t miss. So, nobody panic, stay in your seats. It’s not what it looks like.”

He got down on one knee in front of his boyfriend.

Jimmy gasped in sync with the audience: “Lister!” He backed away.

“Oh no, mister, don’t panic,” Lister retorted. That managed to amuse Jimmy a little – that he would know this would be the reaction. The audience was still going absolutely wild. Another pride flag just about missed Lister’s left ear.

“As I said, it’s not what it looks like. And I’m sick of rhyming by now, so…” He reached for Jimmy’s hand. Pulled it down to his by the triangle and encouragingly pressed a thumb into his palm. “I wanted to tell you – in a way that means something – that I don’t see myself living my life with anyone but you. So I have a question. Can you imagine me proposing in the near future?”

Jimmy looked like he suddenly couldn’t speak any human language. The only thing that came from his open lips was: “Huh?”

He was trying not to panic. To explain it well. Better than he had to Rowan.

“I would like to start talking about marriage. With you. I’m asking your permission to… go pick out a ring, perhaps. And propose to you. One day.”

“You want to…” He was trying so hard to make sense of this situation. Lister could almost hear the wheels in his brain clanking and whirring. After a second, Jimmy blurted out about the last thing Lister expected. “You really want to marry me?”

He had to laugh. That sounded so bizarre! You have the wrong number, I don’t think you want to marry me, of all people. As if.

Covering Jimmy’s hand with both of his own, he answered: “Who else, Jimmy?”

As there was no instant reply, Lister felt the audience grow impatient.

This was the time to smooth things out. Make it amusing.

“Okay, I don’t want to stress you out. You can just think about it,” he ensured his partner. But I just wanted to let you know my, er, intentions.” Wow, great choice of words, Bird. But was there any better? He decided to make fun of himself a little when he sarcastically added: “Because this is the regency era, apparently.”

People were losing it. However, Lister was only looking at Jimmy now… and realized that the eyes of his boyfriend were welling up with tears as he looked down. Were they happy or sad tears? Shit.

“Oh…” Lister managed to say, when Jimmy dropped the triangle on the floor with a thud and shakily took Lister’s face into his soft palms.

His voice was trembling with emotion, as he answered:

“Allister Bird, I would love to marry you. I don’t think you even need to propose again.”

Before Lister could even register what he meant, Jimmy leaned down and gently pressed a kiss at his forehead. This was probably as close to kissing in public as Jimmy would ever allow.

Lister finally realized. He realized.

At the same time, Jimmy dropped down and Lister shot up. They embraced each other tightly, a mess of crumpled clothes and limbs and teary laughing, and Lister almost lifted Jimmy off the ground as he was happy-crying into the shorter man’s shoulder.

They heard Rowan screaming at the top of his lungs: “HE SAID YES, PEOPLE!” His voice was drowned out by the massive storm of excited screams that wouldn’t seize for good twenty minutes after.

But Lister and Jimmy didn’t really pay attention.

Paradoxically, although everyone could see them – and everyone would see them, as the news probably already travelled through the internet at the speed of light – it felt like this moment was theirs alone.

[teddy06writes]

Greek Myth Series: Eros and Psyche Part One

Eret x afab! reader

trigger warnings: yelling, mentions of pregnancy

premise: so the story of Eros and Psyche is kinda complicated, and no that many people know it, if you want to find out about it in a different context you can here or if you want to go into this blind, go ahead.

list of Greek Gods/characters for this work

Eros- Eret

Aphrodite- Puffy

Zephyrus- Philza

Zeus- Dream

Pan- Tubbo

{I tried to keep this gender neutral, but in the myth Psyche does end up pregnant, and its kind of a big plot point, I'm sorry.}

{also I forgot how long this story is, so I'm going to split it in two, on one hand so that I don't leave yall without content, and two because it'll be easier for me that way}

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There was a city state, long ago, near the sea, that was known for its beautiful royal family. The eldest daughters of the king had been considered the most beautiful in all of the land, until the youngest child, (y/n), came of age.

It is said that their beauty surpassed that of everyone in the kingdom, and where ever they went the people flocked, eager to earn their favor.

(y/n) knew of their beauty, but they did not look upon themself in vain, but they did know that this beauty caused jealousy among many, especially their sisters.

What they did not expect of this, was when the people of their kingdom began to worship them, as if they were the goddess of beauty, Puffy herself.

Now this was never something that (y/n) wanted, all they had wanted was to live a normal life, but now they had to stay shut up in their chambers, trying to ignore the cries from outside.

They were admired by all, yet wanted by none.

And as Puffy grew jealous, and planned with Eret to exact her revenge, (y/n)'s father sought help from the good oracle of Delphi, what was he to do if everyone in the land loved their looks, but no one wanted their hand in marriage.

As the months passed, and their chambers seemed to become even more like a prison and their sisters married other monarchs, (y/n) began to loath their beauty, wishing there was some way to be rid of it.

Having returned from his journey to Delphi, the king entered their chambers, "My child," Said he, "I have sought an answer, and answer, the oracle has given."

"And what answer is that?" (y/n) asked.

"In three days time we will hold your wedding," He took a shaky breath, "You are to be wedded to a dreadful monster, and in three days time, we will take you to the rock spire, at the edge of our kingdom, and leave you to him."

A gasp rippled through (y/n)'s throat, and they fell to their knees, "Father please don't leave me to die!"

He shook his head, "It is already done."

The three days passed in quick succession, and soon, (y/n) found themselves being led through the kingdom, dressed in a blackened wedding gown.

As their parents wept, they held their head high, having resigned to their fate.

Upon reaching the top of the spire, their family tearfully departed, leaving (y/n), wind whipping through their hair, dreadfully alone. Slowly, they inched closer to the edge, staring down to the rocky shore from which the pillar had grown.

A partially strong gust of wind caught them in the back, unexpected, and as they toppled over the side a scream ripped through their throat.

It took them a moment to realize that they had not made impact with the ground, that rather, they were floating, flying, being carried across the lands.

"Fear not," A disembodied voice assured them, "I am Philza, the west wind. No harm shall come to you."

(y/n) remained terrified until they were at last gently set upon the soft grass of a meadow.

"Go now, explore your new home." Philza urged.

Slowly, (y/n) moved forward, gaping as a huge villa came into view at the other end of the valley. As they drew further up the path, more disembodied voices greeted them.

"What is this place?" They asked softly, looking around in amazement.

"Why do you wonder so much of this finery? It is your own, do go inside, and rest and bath, and then there shall be a great feast." A soft, breezy voice returned.

Hesitantly, they did, enjoying a fresh bath, and much food and entertainment, but slowly, as night began to fall, the gayety died away, and they were urged to get ready for bed.

Having changed into night clothes, and climbed into bed, the lights were dimed by unseen servants, and they were told, "Rest now dear, your husband shall arrive soon."

"My husband?" They asked, confused, but there came no answer.

They laid awake, anxiously, until footsteps sounded on the floor.

"Who are you?" They demanded.

There was a soft chuckle, "Worry not, sweet (y/n), I am not here to hurt you. A husband should never have such intentions with his betrothed."

"Who are you?" They asked again, shuffling away as a weight settled on the other side of the bed.

"Your wife," she repeated, "I must admit, I didn't think of the consequence you might have faced upon hearing that dreadful fake of a prophecy. My dear, I am sorry, but could find no other way to take you away from the prying eyes of some."

Slowly, he retold the story, of how he had fallen in love with them, for the way that they had carried their burden, and when she had heard the plans of many, that they had to get them away.

"Alas, my sweet, you may not know my name, nor may you ever be permitted to see me, for it might tear us apart. For that, I am sorry."

There was a note of sadness in his voice, enough to tug at something in (y/n)s chest.

~~

He had away-ed at dawn, long before (y/n) awoke, leaving them to their thoughts of what had happened that night.

The following days seemed to follow the same pattern, until soon a week had passed, and then the weeks began to blend into months.

Back in the kingdom, in which (y/n) had lived, word had reached their sisters of what had happened, and each day they began to gather at the spire, calling for them, wishing they hadn't disappeared.

But, their husband warned them, that even though (y/n) could hear there voices, they must never call back, and the sisters may never be allowed into the valley.

For some time, (y/n) worked to comply, but hearing the despair in their sisters voice wore them down slowly, to the point where even when they were remind of how cruel the women could be, they did not care, and only wanted to see them again.

It got to a point, where one day, after their husband had left, they slowly crept from the villa, and dashing across the valley, called to Philza, begging him to take their sisters to the valley.

"Are you sure, (y/n)?" He asked.

"Yes, please, I'd do anything to see them again!" They begged.

Reluctantly, Philza's winds carried the sisters to the valley, where (y/n) embraced them, "My sisters! Don't weep! I'm safe!"

They hugged them back just as tightly, before letting go and looking around at the valley, and the villa.

"You live here?" The eldest asked.

"Yes, it is my husbands villa." They replied with a smile, "Come, I'll give you the tour, and then we may walk the gardens."

As the siblings moved from room to room, and (y/n) gave their tour, the sisters became increasingly jealous.

They had been married to old men, hardly holding onto their titles as king, why should their little sibling get all of this?

Soon, they were seated in the garden, nibbling on the food the servants had prepared.

"You certainly live in luxury (y/n)." The middle sister remarked.

They nodded, "Yes, I suppose I do."

"How does your husband afford all this? What does he do?" The elder asked.

"Well..." They trailed off, thinking, "I'm not sure."

"You mean you don't know?"

Slowly, (y/n) explained what had happened, and their husbands conditions of never being seen.

"Oh (y/n), honey," she pulled a sympathetic face, "He's clearly hiding something from you, and such a shame, you being pregnant with his child."

They glanced down at their stomach, they weren't showing that much, were they?

"It might turn out to be a monster, for all you know. You've never even seen him."

"No! He's not a monster!" They insited.

The sisters continued to build up the idea of their husband lying, or disguising himself, both in a subtle agreement to ruin everything (y/n) had.

"he's not!"

Frowning, one sister leaned forward and patted her hand, "Maybe, but you don't know. Just to be sure, when he has gone to sleep tonight, light a lantern, and look at him, just to be sure."

"I think you should go." (y/n)s voice was hard, and soon Philza was returning them to the kingdom from which they had came.

Night returned, and along with it, their husband.

She had fallen quickly to sleep, though (y/n) lay awake, their sisters voices filling their mind.

What if they were married to a monster?

Slowly, shakily, they rose, and finding a lamp, carefully lit it, before turning to their wife's side of the bed.

In the flickering lantern light, (y/n) beheld their husband for the first time, dark brown hair falling in curls about their head, and large feathered flings pooling at her back.

They gasped in amazement, turning to find a set of quiver and arrows at the foot of the bed, suddenly it made sense. The bow, the inhuman beauty- they had wed the god of desire, Eret.

Some how, all at once, they fell in love, toppling over the metaphorical cliff they had stood near for sometime, as the lamp suddenly felt to heavy for their hands.

Shaking, they moved to set it down, but not before a drop of oil spilled, landing on the gods shoulder.

In a cry of pain, she awoke, and looked up at (y/n) with wide eyes.

Without another word, they stood, gathered their things and began to leave, as they had come flying through the open windows.

"No! Please don't leave! I love you!" (y/n) cried, seizing his arm.

"You fool!" He roared, dragging them along with her, "I risked everything! I went I against mine own mother! She told me to punish you! and yet I fell in love! I created all this! All of this just to get you away from her prying eyes!

"Now the magic is fading you poor poor fool! She will find you now! You won't have much time! You- you listened to your sisters didn't you! They wanted this! I told you to not listen to them! You lie! Regard me as some beast to peak on in the night!" At last they shook (y/n) off, and they went tumbling to the ground.

"No love can exist with out trust."

With that they flew away, leaving (y/n)s cries for her to stay. And Leaving (y/n) alone, so terribly alone.

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Tag list: (send a request to be added, it will only be for this series)

@dreamslittlebitch

[ranboo5]

Dropping the Ranboo mixtape

Anyway at time of starting to write this post I had two likes and two affirmative replies, which is Good Enough For Me, so here I am :D I was gonna link the YT but on second thought my YT channel is a mess so this is gonna be one of the annoying ones that doesn’t link to one you can actually listen to but 

This is also a running list and currently organized roughly by increasingly hotter takes and it’s under a cut bc it’s 13 songs and I justified all of them 

Everybody Likes You (Lemon Demon) - LISTEN THE ANIMATION MEMES WEREN’T LYING THAT EVERYBODY LIKES YOU CAN RANBOOCORE. The increasingly distorted, incredibly bright repetition of EVERYBODY LIKES YOU EVERYBODY LIKES YOU EVERYBODY LIKES YOU until you can hear it morphing in and out of EVERYBODY LIED TO YOU? Tell Me That’s Not Him In The Spiral Depths 

Tall (Naps the Block on YT) - This is a) literally a theme for the End, b) sounds stumbling and anxious/high-strung, and c) echoes the Pigstep melody in the middle while still very much doing its own thing this is self explanatory 

Dance of Thorns/Old Secret mashup (Tensei and James Roach respectively, feat. woodfur00 on YT) (yes this is Homestuck music) - It’s just the vibes. The energy. The way the elegance of the violin lines of Dance of Thorns sounds almost nervous especially against the almost noir mystery vibes of Old Secret, and the guitar lines of Dance of Thorns add like. Initiative/urgency especially when they underlay the other music it’s so good I don’t think either song alone is Ranboo vibes but this remix definitely is. Just the mix of perseverance and desperation and melancholy and mystery and Class 

Touch-Tone Telephone (Lemon Demon) - This one is old news but tbh it just works. Man decides he’s the correct one in this situation and he’s losing his entire mind that no one is listening to him because he just is not 

2012 (Will Wood) - This one isn’t really clever it’s just about memory loss, derealization, identity, and often self-hatred (“A miserable fuck, but a loud Tao mystical” is a lot). “Did you lose yourself?/It’s always in the last place that you check” sounds so mocking in ways internal monologues like Droice have been and “I might find myself/By retracing my steps” is literally just Ranboo dealing with the Enderwalk; “And not until lobotomy abolished my monotony/Did I applaud autonomy, and modify a lot of me!” works so much for him Dealing With Himself generally, and also “I heard the world would turn to hell/Compared to that, I’m doing well!” is a Him sentiment 

Hand Me My Shovel, I’m Going In! (Will Wood) - Jokes about the three hour mining/grinding streams aside. Not only is the chorus so heavily a spiral/self-evaluation mood, but literally consider his thought processes abt the things he’s done/allegedly done and then consider “My dreams were shattered like a stained-glass window/Jesus in pieces! I believe I through a brick right through Him/But my memory could not be saved!/It just seems unlikely that it’s me who was to blame/So I bookmark my DSM, ‘cause I need to remember my place.” And now with the advent of the “experiments” the second verse’s “Take the road on higher ground, and tell me ‘don’t look down! You’ll fall and break your back’/But that just reminds me how there’s more to be found beneath the black!” is more relevant than ever 

Friends With You (The Scary Jokes) - Oh my god. Oh my fucking god man. This could be on here for “I put myself to bed just halfway through the party/I love all my friends, but I hate when their eyes are on me” alone but the general almost empty saccharine vibe of the song is immensely his vibe; the humorlessly-smiling vocal fry on “don’t know” in “Why do you pretend/You don’t know who’s to blame?” is probably responsible for 80% of this read. Not to mention the first lyrics are literally “How long do I have to wait/’Til my lonely days are over?” which is really the. The waiting it out man the So When Do I Get To Be Okay of it all. Shoutouts also to “And the crumbling infrastructure no one else can see,” the self hatred of “I miss being friends with you/But what can I do/What can I do/But leave you alone?” and to “And I can tell you really love me/Can you tell I’m really sorry?” Just. The mix of hope+affection and dejected cynicism and self-hatred in the lyrics

Saline Solution (none other than Mr Wilbur Soot) - Remember what I said about waiting it out until you get to be okay? Anyway that’s crystallized in “If I could just break one more night/Maybe I could wake up and feel alright” and also this is literally a song about catastrophizing and self-evaluation just,, in general and I will not be highlighting all the lyrics about this but I will highlight the fact that he literally calls himself pragmatic and also the lyric “blurring the facts and the fiction.” Also, the sheer desperate anger-concealing-breakdown vibes of “I think I’ve made my choice” to “I think I’ve found my voice” deserves a mention, as does the culminating end of “saline solution to all your problems” with the tears+now splash water motifs of it all with Ranboo I am going to die 

Funny (The Scary Jokes) - This is actually a softer take but not only does it literally start with the singer pleading with the addressee to look away, it  continues with “I went up in the middle of the night and I climbed right onto the stage/And I raged/And I cried/Oh, what a funny joke am I” disregarding everything as performance, reemphasizes the opening demand with the qualifier “it’s not that I hate you, it’s just that I’m funny these days,” and then kills you with the last couple lines which. Yeah he does care and it does,,, just,,,,, a

Chemical Overreaction (Will Wood) - This is where the mood VIOLENTLY whiplashes because this is where we get unhinged. Anyway “I won’t stop to drop to draw a line in the sand/’Cause I’ll be picked apart to pieces by coyotes!” is LITERALLY the whole “I don’t do well with ‘peer pressure’” thing. “Where the sentimental value of the city around ya/Is deleted obsolete, but still completely will stun ya” is the single most L’Manberg lyric I’ve ever heard, especially from the perspective of a character whom I will repeatedly insist is narratively in the role of someone who’s shown up and seen the status quo as an outsider after it’s been established (hence the eternal New Kid vibes). Chorus very much has vibes of Ranboo Is Seized By The Urge To Do Something, and like. The entire dramatic end part. The last two lines especially (be very careful if you look up the vieo for this by the way it is NOT pretty; cws in the video for flashing, blood, suicide imagery) 

A Mannequin Adrift (The Scary Jokes) - The Bitterness. This song is just fully The Bitterness at the environment he’s stuck in; the saccharine comes back as does the “peer pressure” thematic and just the Having An Awful Time; the sarcastic saccharine comes back too, which is always good I love passive aggression. Honestly the first verse is just everything like just listen to it it immediately makes sense

Poison Ivy Grows (The Scary Jokes) - This is overall a song about having bad brain and not knowing what the hell to do about it; it’s so faintly bitter and distant and melancholy and also so zoned out. Also, it’s not the only lyric that matters here but it is enough to be a full argument on its own: “I used to spend so much time/Wandering around outside/Now I’ve got too much on my mind/Now I’ve got too much on my mind” 

Spring Haze (Tori Amos) - Listen. Do I know what Spring Haze is about? No. Is that gonna stop me from saying it’s about Ranboo? Also no. I just think “You say we’ll never make it there/So all we do is circle it” is so much, the fact that the bridge at the end is just “Why does it always end up like this?” repeated, and that it just feels so much like overall the song feels like a desperate attempt to figure Something out, and the chorus is just inexplicably him? It might be partially influenced by the fact that “Uh-oh, let go, off on my way” and, to a lesser extent, “Uh-oh, way to go” is not only in accordance with character vibes but also vaguely evocative of Ranboo’s speech pattern

[wolvesandpetals]

Playing House: Part 2: Loki x Sylvie Fanfiction (Rated: T, Humor/Romance).

Part 1 here. Masterlist of Sylki fanfictions here. This chapter mostly fills in the gaps and acts as a backstory, providing some answers. Sylki hijinks in next chapter!

---

Sylvie wakes up the next morning with the sunrays lighting up the room through the windows. It's so different from the life she has always known- hiding in the shadows, endlessly on the run.

She has spent her entire life waking up in unfamiliar places. Yet, this feels different. This feels familiar, almost mundane. Even though some unknown dangerous entity has trapped them here, it feels... safe.

[[MORE]]

And she swears it has nothing to do with the fact that his arm is wrapped around her waist, and how it makes her feel protected. Nothing at all.

This is what her dreams were made of- a home, a person to wake up next to every day, a sense of serenity instead of the ever present death and despair. And now she has it all.

She shifts a little, earning groans of protest from him, and it makes her smile. The warmth radiating from his body makes her long to stay like this forever. Slowly and reluctantly, she pulls his arm off her body and places it on his chest, her smile widening as she watches him sleep. "Loki?"

He groans. "Please, mother. Can you awaken Thor first?"

She touches his shoulder gently. "Loki, it's morning."

"No, mother, princes do not wake up so early", he mumbles in his sleep.

She just cannot bring herself to force him awake. Not when he looks so happy.

---

His morning starts at 10 am. He picks up the newspaper that the delivery boy left on the porch. Apparently, it's 2021, there's a new president, and a new iPhone, whatever that is.

She makes breakfast. It's just milk and cereals, but it's the first meal they have both had at a kitchen table with someone akin to a loved one in a long, long time, and it feels good.

He picks up his phone, hoping to learn how to properly operate it, and goes through his contacts list. There are a lot of people that he does not remember meeting, mixed with people that he never wishes to meet again, but one name in particular makes him pause. "Thor's number is programmed in my phone."

Sylvie looks up in confusion, clueless why this is significant. "Alright?"

"I didn't know he even had a number." Loki explains. Maybe it's recent? Maybe that is the reason he did not know, and it's not because they have been at odds lately?

"Maybe it's not Thor?" Sylvie suggests. It is a different reality, after all. Everything may be just an illusion.

Loki takes in a deep breath, bracing himself for what he knows he has to do. There is only one way to find out.

---

There are exactly four rings before he hears the familiar voice on the other side of the line. "Hello, brother."

"Hello, brother." He clears his throat, trying to push down the emotions swelling in his chest. In reality, he last saw Thor the day he was captured by the TVA. Yet, it feels like a lifetime ago. "How have you been?"

"I've been well", Thor answers. There's noisy chatter in the background, like a restaurant or a bar, and what sounds like old 60s music. "How are you?"

"I am well too." Loki lies. "It is so good to speak to you. Umm, how are the Avengers?"

There's a brief pause on the other end. "The Avengers? You are enquiring about my friends? Are you not going to ask about mother and father?"

Loki forgets how to breathe. "M-mother and father?"

"Yes?" Loki can picture Thor rolling his eyes as he speaks. "Our mother and father? The people who have loved and adored us our entire lives? Rings a bell?"

The last time Loki met his parents, they were furious and disappointed with him for his betrayal of Asgard. Then New York happened, and he is sure those emotions were heightened.

The rest of it, he has only watched on the projector screen at the TVA and not experienced himself, but he heard his parents express how much he means to them, right before watching them die. After spending the last few months angry at them, and craving power that makes him superior to Thor, he realised in that one moment that none of it mattered. All he wanted was the life he once knew, the life back at Asgard, the one he can never return to.

It's a truly cunning being that has trapped him in a reality where these cruel events may not have happened. Trap a man in hell, and he will burn it to the ground, trying to find his way out. Trap him in his heaven, and he is forever imprisoned. This is an eternal prison indeed, because why would he ever want to leave?

"Mother and father?" Loki repeats, still in disbelief, and a little optimistic. "They are not dead?"

"What kind of sick question is that, brother?" There's the familiar irritation in Thor's voice. "Why would you even ask that?"

"I'm... I'm sorry. I just feel a little... disoriented."

"Is everything alright with you?" Thor pauses, hesitating before he asks the next question. "Are you having marital troubles? Is Sylvie alright?"

"You know Sylvie?"

"Of course I know your wife." There's genuine concern now. "You are scaring me, brother. Is this a trick?"

"No, no." Loki shakes his head for emphasis, even though Thor cannot see it. "Not a trick, brother. I am just happy to hear your voice."

The line goes dead. There's a flash of thunder, a loud bang in the backyard, and then a thunderous voice. "Loki?"

Loki rushes to the backyard. Sylvie follows him, ready to fight the intruder, if necessary. She finds a blonde man in 60s clothes, wielding the hammer that she knows too well.

Sylvie goes pale. She hasn't seen her brother in ages, and this isn't her brother. She has never met this man, never played with him, never turned him into a toad, and definitely never missed him. Yet, her heart aches at the sight of this stranger who is another version of him.

"Oh, hi, Sylvie." Thor smiles warmly at her, before it turns apologetic. He tugs at an ear. "Sorry about your flowerpots." He glances at the mess he has made- again- vowing to land on the street next time. He spots Loki standing in the background and gives him a slight nod. "Brother."

"Brother." Loki takes a step forward, resisting the urge to rush to his brother and embrace him tightly. Not long back, they were on opposite sides of the battle. All he wanted back then was to be equal to Thor.

All he wants now is to be brothers again.

"Thor?" Sylvie says his name carefully, like it's a word that can break this spell. "Is that really you?"

Thor feels the panic coming back. "Alright, what is the matter with you two? Are you on drugs?"

"Me? Drugs?" Loki scoffs indignantly. "You are the one who looks like you just spent a week at Woodstock."

Thor takes a brief moment to glance down at his outfit- courtesy of StarJerk- before returning his undivided attention to the couple that is acting extremely strange.

"Prove that you are not on drugs." He places the hammer on the ground, next to Loki's feet. "Here."

"You want me to lift Mjojonir?" Loki stares in confusion. "Are you insulting me?"

"You can't lift it, can you?"

His irritation grows. "Of course I can't lift it. I've never been able to lift it."

"Loki... You... We've... Do you not remember the time we..." Thor stares at him, dumbfounded. "Do you really not remember that you too can wield Mjojonir?" Then another thought occurs to him, one which seems more likely. "Wait, is this another elaborate scheme of yours to steal Mjojonir?"

Sylvie takes in a deep breath, pushing down all the complicated emotions that have found their way into the spotlight since she met the mirror image of her brother. Right now, she is trapped in a reality that is not of her choosing, by an entity that is not known to her, and she cannot allow herself to get lost in the illusion. The man in front of her is merely an opportunity, one which she has to seize. "Alright, then. Come in already, brother." She tilts her head towards the door, gesturing at the brothers to come inside.

"Brother?" Loki mumbles under his breath.

Sylvie shrugs. "Well, he is your brother, and I am your wife, right?"

---

Thor walks through the kitchen and into the living room like he knows the place extremely well. He sits down on the couch- in the spot that Loki already considers his own spot, Loki notes with annoyance - and examines a cushion. "I see you replaced these after the mishap with the gun."

Loki and Sylvie exchange a look. They have no idea what he is talking about, but if they know themselves at all, they were definitely the ones responsible for the incident.

"Here, have a drink." Sylvie offers him a coffee mug filled with whiskey on the rocks. When Thor reaches for it, she covers his hand with hers.

Loki feels that ever familiar feeling that he has felt anytime something he wanted has gone to Thor instead. It's not like Sylvie is his actual wife, and he has any right to be jealous. But the mere sight of Sylvie's hand covering Thor's is a source of extreme irritation for him. "What are you doing?"

Sylvie places the finger of her free hand on her lips, asking him to be quiet. She returns her attention to Thor. There's a flash of green, travelling from her hand, to Thor's, and rising up his arm, to his heart. "Oh, the gun. That was something. Remember the day we met?"

Loki finally realizes what is happening. "Are you enchanting my brother?" He whispers.

Sylvie rolls her eyes, whispering back at him. "Obviously."

"You can't enchant my brother!" He hisses. "He's my brother!"

"And you've done worse to him." She points out. "We need to know what he knows."

Loki sighs, finally giving in semi-reluctantly.

"You know how we met." Thor answers, confused, and oblivious to the conversation between his brother and his wife.

"I know. But let's reminisce." Sylvie keeps her tone calm and cheerful. "Tell me about the good old times."

"It wasn't good." Thor reminds her. "You broke Jane's telescope."

"Right. Good ol' Jane." She fakes a laugh, before turning to Loki. "Jane?"

"The human he's dating." He supplies.

"Human?"

He gives her a sad nod.

"And what is my name, my full name?"

"Sylvie Lushton, from Broxton, Oklahoma. You took my brother's name only to escape the internet fame under yours. Clever." It is clear from the way he speaks that he thinks highly of her.

Loki and Sylvie exchange another look. A few days back, this is when he would have asked about Mjojonir, what the deal is with him apparently being able to wield it. But now, he can think of only one thing, because there is only one thing that actually matters. "Ask him about my parents."

"And your parents? Where are they now?"

"At New Asgard, of course." Thor tells her like it's obvious. "The same place they were the last time you visited."

Sylvie lets go of his hands abruptly. The thought that she probably has a set of parents at Oklahoma, and a version of Odin and Frigga at New Asgard is too overwhelming. She leans back against the sofa, trying to catch her breath.

Thor blinks, trying to adjust to the fact that he is back at Sylvie and Loki's living room instead of his bed chamber at Asgard. "Did you just-?" Realizing what happened, he stares at Sylvie in shock. "All the years, and you have never once tried to enchant me, not even when Loki begged you. You have always been a loyal friend to me." His voice grows resolute, like that of a man on a mission. "Tell me this instant what is going on with you two. I demand answers."

"I'm sorry." Sylvie tells him sincerely. She knows now that this man is not the one responsible for the illusion. His memories are real, at least to him. He is not a danger to them

Loki smiles sadly. "You wouldn't believe us even if we told you."

Thor crosses his arms in front of his chest and leans back against the cushions, making it clear that he is not going anywhere until he is satisfied. "I travel through space with a talking racoon and a grunting hormonal tree. Try me."

"Okay. We are from a different reality. Two different realities actually." Loki begins his Loki lesson. "I was supposed to be immortalized in the hearts of Asgardians after meeting a heroic end in glorious battle with Thanos. Sylvie was taken from Asgard when she was merely a child. There is this evil organization called the TVA. Time variance authority. We weren't supposed to exist, yet we existed. So these pathetic, low-life bureaucrats arrested us. We were trying to find the man in charge. We were so close. Then we found ourselves here abruptly."

Thor just stares at them, utterly confused.

"You're rubbish at this." Sylvie comments, before taking over the storytelling duty. "Loki and I are not who you think we are. We are from a different reality. Your memories are not real to us. They never happened to us. I have never met you. And we are most definitely not married."

"Ouch." Loki places a heart over his chest to express his hurt. Sylvie grins at him.

Thor tries his best to process this wild tale. "Let me get this straight. You're telling me that my brother, my only brother-"

"Adopted." Loki interrupts with the quip. He can't stop himself.

"- My annoying brother", Thor continues, "is supposed to be dead? And you? You're from Asgard?"

"I'm him, actually." Sylve explains. "Well, not him, another version of him, the superior one. I'm Sylvie Laufeydottir." She half smiles at Thor.

Thor stares at Sylvie, then at Loki, then back at Sylvie again. "Are you sure you're not under the influence of any narcotics?"

"Yes!" Loki reaffirms, more exasperated by the minute.

"Are you sure I'm not under the influence of any narcotics?" Thor wonders.

"Not really." Loki admits.

"But I assure you, what we are saying is the truth." Sylvie looks him in the eyes, hoping he can see the honesty in hers. "This life, this house, we have only known it for a day."

Thor is quiet for a long while. When he speaks again, his voice is more sympathetic, and less skeptical. "Would you like to know more? About your past, I mean? The one I know?"

"Of course." Sylvie answers immediately. Part of it is to gather information so that they can decide how to get out.

There's another part of her that really wants to know what a happy life looks like for her. She can't resist the temptation to sneak a peak down the rabbit hole.

Thor takes a sip from the mug. The ice has melted by now, but the drink is cold enough. Taking in a deep breath, he begins. "I met you six years back at London. You were filming something for YouTube, and you accidentally broke Jane's telescope. You were gracious enough to offer to buy her a new one. But she wanted nothing to do with you." He adds, as an afterthought, to lessen the blow. "It's nothing personal, Jane just doesn't really like influencers. You gave me your number, in case she changed her mind."

"A while later, Loki stole my jacket. Well, borrowed, in his words, but I haven't seen it since that day, so you be the judge. Where is it, by the way?"

Loki rolls his eyes. "Isn't it clear that I do not know?"

"Right." Thor nods. All of this is still bizzare to him, but he's willing to be open to the possibility. "Anyways, Loki found the little card with your number in the pocket, and he called you up. You hung up on him within a minute. That's your version of the story, anyway. Loki swears you talked to him before you hung up."

"And then my brother, ever so proud of himself, took that personally. He called you back to tell you off." He puts on his best Loki imitation. "I'm Loki, the prince of Asgard, the God of mischief, and you must treat me with respect, or I will use my hairgel to slick your hair back too. Bla bla bla." He grins when he notices Loki glaring at him, and his grin grows wider at the next part. He looks at Sylvie with a smile that conveys how proud he is of her. "You hung up on him again."

"He Googled you up and showed up at your doorstep the next week, ready to turn your clothes into snakes and show you your place. But the moment you opened the door, my brother was putty in your hands. Seriously, he wouldn't shut up about you for weeks."

"Instead of snakes, he gave you flowers. He serenaded you, actually. What was the song, brother? When she sleeps- no, wait." Thor hums the tune, trying to remember the words. "That's it! When she sings, she sings come home." He laughs, like he always does when he imagines Loki acting like a lovestruck fool. "I can't believe you didn't get a restraining order on him. He kept sending you flowers every day. Until you finally decided to go out with him. You guys hit it off right away. Your parents liked him. I don't know why." This earns him another glare from Loki and results in another grin. "Our parents liked you. It was all surprisingly easy."

"Loki proposed during the Convergence. He was so nervous about it. It was fun to watch him squirm."

"You had a June wedding. You moved here after a few months. And you've been happily married since."

It's almost impossible for either of them to imagine a world where they have sworn to spend eternity with another person.

But it's not impossible at all, not anymore, not when they have found each other. Sylvie tries not to dwell on this for long.

Another thought occupies her instead. If she is not an Asgardian princess in this reality... "How do I have my powers?"

Thor shrugs. "How does anyone have their powers? How do the Avengers have their powers?"

They still do not know who did this, but now they have an idea about what was done to them.

If he's being honest with himself, a reality where he and Sylvie both exist together, where his parents are alive, and Thor doesn't hate him, is not the worst thing in the world. It is almost like a scene from his dreams, depicting his heart's desires.

"Thank you." Sylvie sincerely tells Thor. "Now we need to find a way out."

[jaskierswolf]

A Lover’s Kiss

Summary: After an unfortunate encounter with a mage, Jaskier finds himself cursed to never be kissed again unless he can find someone who loves him. Enter Geralt. (Also on my AO3)

Based on the prompt: A little bit of the bards chaotic behaviour getting him into some curse and Geralt saving the day? by @innocentcinnamonpun

Geralt swore as he approached the tavern where he’d left Jaskier. He could hear the brawling from the street and the sound drew out a long heavy sigh from the witcher. He hadn’t been away on the hunt long, it was why Jaskier had opted to stay behind to play his lute for coin instead. It was supposed to be the less dangerous place to be, and yet Jaskier had a penchant for trouble that Geralt just couldn’t fathom.

He consider drawing his sword before entering the tavern but that would most likely get them both in trouble. If he was lucky he’d be able to grab Jaskier by the scruff of his neck and pull them both out of there before any real damage was done. He huffed and double checked the fastenings on his armour before pushing open the door to the tavern.

As expected, Jaskier was in the middle of the fray. His doublet was torn open and he was pressed up against the wall by a cloaked individual who had a hand gripped around Jaskier’s neck. Geralt snarled and crossed the room, his presence creating a familiar silence in the tavern.

“Leave him be.” He growled.

The cloaked figure, a blonde woman with a freckled face and soft brown eyes, laughed a cold humourless laugh. “Now why would I do that?”

“Because whatever it is that you think he’s done. I can assure you he’s not worth it.” Geralt shot a weary glare at his friend.

Jaskier’s cheeks were flushed, presumably from too much wine, and his bright blue eyes were twinkling in the candle light.

“Geralt!” He grinned which was quite frankly a foolish reaction for someone who was about thirty seconds from being choked to death. “How was the hunt? Successful I take it.”

Geralt shrugged. “Drowners are dead. More worried about my bard that is currently in a death grip.”

“Shut up!” The woman hissed and Jaskier gasped as her grip tightened. Any protests he may have had were cut off by the lack of air. “Both of you!”

Geralt rolled his eyes and sighed. “What did he do?”

Jaskier croaked and mumbled something intelligible.

“This bastard tried to seduce my wife!” The woman hissed.

Geralt was almost tempted to leave the bard to his fate. How many times did he have to save Jaskier’s life because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself? The rumours of Jaskier being a eunuch hadn’t lasted long as his friend’s insatiable appetite for sexual pleasure had put those rumours to rest rather quickly. Geralt had two options that he could think of, use Axii on the woman and convince her that Jaskier hadn’t even looked at her wife, which was risky in front of a whole tavern, or find a way to put Jaskier’s lecherous ways to a stop, for good.

“I’m afraid there’s been a miscommunication.” Geralt grunted. “The man’s a bard.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” The woman cackled. “I know he’s a bard!”

“And part of his job is to charm people out of their gold.” Geralt continued with a tilt of his head. Jaskier was still gasping which meant he was just about able to breathe but he would probably pass out soon if Geralt couldn’t get the woman to release her grip.

“But not into their beds, witcher!” She snapped, and pressed her fingers harder against Jaskier’s neck.

The bard finally had the decency to look afraid, his startling blue eyes met Geralt’s wide and now full of worry. Geralt scowled and licked his lips.

“An act, I assure you.” He said through gritted teeth, as calmly as he could manage. “Please just let him go.”

“No!”

Geralt panicked as Jaskier’s eyes started to roll back. “We’re married!” He blurted out.

The blonde dropped Jaskier and Geralt caught the bard in his arms. Jaskier gripped onto Geralt’s armour and gasped loudly as he tried to catch his breath. “Geralt!” He mumbled. “Oh gods, I thought I was gone that time.”

The woman folded her arms in front of her chest and watched them both with narrowed eyes. “Married?” She asked.

Geralt wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s waist, partly to steady him, and nodded. It was too late to back out now. “Married.” He agreed firmly.

“What?” Jaskier spluttered and Geralt jabbed him in the ribs. “Oh yes, married! I umm… I’m just surprised to hear Geralt say that out loud. We were keeping it a secret.” He muttered before standing up straight and rubbing his neck, wincing as his fingers brushed over tender skin.

Geralt frowned. “Are you alright, Jaskier?”

The bard nodded. “I’ve had worse from jilted lovers…” He paused and grinned mischievously up at Geralt. “Husband.” He sang happily and kissed Geralt firmly on the lips.

Geralt grunted in surprise but allowed Jaskier to kiss him. It wasn’t unpleasant, in fact Jaskier was a good kisser. Geralt suddenly knew why his bard had never struggled to find a partner to warm his bed. Before he knew what was happening, Geralt was kissing back. He found he wanted to kiss Jaskier, which was a shocking revelation to him. Up until that point he’d only really thought of the bard as a friend, and even then he’d never admitted it before now. The vibration of Geralt’s medallion was the only warning he had before he was torn from Jaskier’s lips and pulled violently away from the bard by some unseen force.

“Oi!” Jaskier snapped as he too was flung back against the wall. “I was enjoying that!”

“If you really are married then I assure you there won’t be a problem.” The woman who was apparently some kind of mage hissed. “You, bard, will not be able to kiss or bed anyone who is not in love with you.”

Jaskier spluttered. “Oh yeah, sure, Not a problem. None what so ever!” He smiled too sweetly, trying to regain his composure.

Geralt couldn’t help the faint smile that graced his lips. Now that was one problem solved for the foreseeable future, although he also did not doubt the bard’s ability to make anyone fall in love with him. At least it would put an end to the more casual trysts.

Geralt glowered at the blonde one last time for good measure before grabbing Jaskier’s hand and pulling him away from her. “Whilst I appreciate your concern, witch, if I see your hands on my husband again, there’ll be trouble.” He growled and then tugged Jaskier from the tavern.

They’d barely moved two feet away from the door when Jaskier let out a long groan. “Geralt.” He whined. “What am I supposed to do now?”

Geralt smirked and patted his bard on the shoulder. “You should have thought about that before you tried to sleep with a married woman, again.”

Jaskier put his hands on his hips and rolled his eyes. “Yes, thank you! I’ll have you know that she didn’t tell me!”

“They never do.” Geralt sighed. “Come on, let’s get Roach and move on.”

Jaskier grumbled and pulled on the lute strap across his chest. “Easy for you to say, you’ve not been cursed.”

____________

Jaskier was going mad. It had been three months since his run in with the mage and he hadn’t even been able to go to a brothel to satisfy his more lustful urges. It was like a constant itch just under his skin that he couldn’t scratch. It was irritable and quick to anger, even Geralt was pissing him off more than usual and normally Jaskier had a remarkable tolerance for the witcher’s grumpy moods.

He had hoped that the mage’s curse had been faked but a few failed attempts at even just kissing some truly stunning people had proved his hopes to be false. He hadn’t even had the time to woo anyone. He’d been too busy travelling with Geralt and gathering new stories for his ballads and poems.

It didn’t escape his notice that his last kiss had been the witcher, and oh what a kiss it had been! He hadn’t expected Geralt to kiss him back. He’d simply been taking advantage of the witcher’s lie to satisfy his own curiosity. Honestly, he’d been in love with Geralt since the moment he’d laid eyes on him in Posada but he’d never really expected to have a chance to kiss his crush, so he really couldn’t be blamed for seizing the opportunity when it arose.

He sighed and plucked too harshly at the strings on his lute. The tightest, highest string snapped under his fingers and he yelped. “Bollocks!” He groaned and sucked the now bleeding fingertip.

Geralt looked up from where he was prodding the fire with a stick and sniffed the air. “You’re bleeding?”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Yes, I can see that, Geralt.” He hissed and stuck his fingers back in his mouth.

Geralt sighed and crossed the camp in two long strides, taking Jaskier’s wrist gently in his hands and pulling the bleeding fingers from Jaskier’s mouth. He examined the wound carefully and hummed.

“I have some salve if you want but that should heal quickly on its own.” Geralt murmured and gave him a soft smile.

He’d been doing that a lot recently, smiling, especially at Jaskier. It was wreaking havoc with Jaskier’s feelings. His love for Geralt was burning brighter than it had in years. It almost felt like the brand new fire he’d felt in those first few years of travelling. After a while it had dulled to embers, never dying but more manageable and less painful, but now that love resembled a pyre or a brazier, a wildfire that spread through his entire body and there was nothing he could do to put it out.

It probably didn’t help that he couldn’t temper the flames with another warm body in his bed.

He was truly going mad.

He pulled his bleeding fingers from Geralt’s hand and glared at the witcher. “I’m fine, witcher.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re not fine, Jaskier.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes and snorted. “Yeah well, whose fault is that?” He snapped. “Married.” He muttered. “You couldn’t have thought of a better excuse?”

Geralt scoffed. “I saved your life, Jaskier.”

Jaskier narrowed his eyes at the witcher and then flailed his arms. “To the contrary! I am dying, Geralt!”

“Stop being so dramatic.” Geralt grumbled.

“I am a bard!” Jaskier pouted. “Bards need to be kissed! To be loved!”

Geralt’s brow furrow and he huffed, spinning around so Jaskier couldn’t see his face.

“Oh yeah sure, just runaway from your mistakes. Again.” He snapped. He winced at his own words. It was a low blow after Cintra but Jaskier wasn’t exactly in the best frame of mind. He made a note to apologise later when he’d managed to calm down a bit.

“Fuck.” Geralt growled and then spun around again, freakishly fast. He cupped Jaskier’s face in his hands and pulled Jaskier into a blistering kiss.

Jaskier squeaked, surprised by the sudden movement. Of all the things he’d expected Geralt to do, kissing him had been the last thing on the list. He’d been hoping to get away with not getting punched in the gut again after his cruel words.

But Geralt’s lips were on his and all other thoughts left his head. Geralt was kissing him…

Geralt was kissing him.

He pushed back on Geralt’s chest firmly with an indignant yelp. “Geralt!” He pointed at the witcher accusingly and stumbled back. “You. You kissed me!?”

Geralt blushed. Jaskier hadn’t even realised that was possible for witchers but here was Geralt blushing brighter than a ruby in the sunlight and all because he’d kissed Jaskier. The witcher grunted and stalked over to Roach.

“Oh no. No, no, no. No!” Jaskier trotted after him. “No riding away from me now, Geralt.”

“Shut up Jaskier.” Geralt growled.

“You love me!” Jaskier blurted out and then covered his mouth with his hands to stop a peal of laughter from escaping his lips. “You love me.” He mumbled again.

“Apparently so.” Geralt muttered.

Jaskier beamed at the witcher and bopped him on the nose. “Since when?” He laughed.

Geralt snarled and scrunched up his nose. “Doesn’t matter.”

Jaskier sighed dramatically. “Of course it matters, Geralt. It matters to me.”

Geralt narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

Jaskier tilted his head and gave the witcher his most charming smile. “Because I would like to know how long we could have been snogging each other senseless for.” He stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“What?”

“Oh my dear witcher. Surely you know that I love you? I’ve not exactly been subtle with the songs and the whole…” He waved his hands “following you around the Continent thing.”

“What?!” Geralt repeated with wide eyes.

Jaskier sighed and shook his head, taking Geralt’s hand in his. “I love you, Geralt. I have loved you since the moment I saw you. So forgive me for wondering when you began to feel the same way.”

“Not sure. Some time after the mage and the curse.” He grumbled. “Maybe before that. I never did like it when you fucked around.”

Jaskier laughed. “Oh ho ho! Geralt were you jealous?”

“No!” The witcher snarled. “Maybe.”

Jaskier couldn’t take it anymore he squeezed Geralt’s hand and leaned in for another kiss. Neither of them were surprised this time. It wasn’t as heated as the last kiss, they knew they could finally take their time to relish in the feeling. The kiss was slow and filled with all the yearning that had followed Jaskier around for years. He poured his heart and soul into the kiss hoping Geralt would see that it was alright to love him, that he didn’t need to hide it.

Geralt hummed as they pulled away. Jaskier opened his eyes to find his friend gazing at him with gorgeous amber eyes, smiling that half smile that drove Jaskier mad. “You love me.” Geralt murmured as his fingers stroked Jaskier cheek.

Jaskier nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “I do. I always have.”

Geralt rested his forehead against Jaskier’s and closed his eyes. Jaskier smiled and chuckled, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s waist. “She was right then.”

“Who was right, darling?”

“The curse. It won’t be a problem after all.” Geralt laughed quietly at the revelation and Jaskier soon joined in before pulling the witcher into another kiss.

The first of many, he hoped.

Tag List: @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @awitchersbard @genkitaco 

[unfortunate17]

if you have time and inspiration, I would love to see what you'll do with obikin + 51 or 6 from the dialogue prompt list!

Here you go! I went with #6 from THIS list 

Premise: “Am I going to die?” with a Hanahaki twist 🥰

This got very fluffy at the end, hopefully that’s alright with you.

The sterile scent of bacta brings Anakin out of his restless slumber. The stark white glare of the Halls of Healing is blinding for a moment, light making his pupils wide and sore. He blinks awake steadily, heart monitor beeping faint and rhythmic by his side. Consciousness slides in, the force slamming into him in urgency.

There’s a tube down his throat.

Anakin grapples at it for a brief, panicked breath. Swallowing around it is sharply painful and his eyes widen in alarm.

“Anakin, Anakin, please,” Bant’s voice is low and frantic, even as she tries to send him soothing waves of energy. She’s an exceptional healer, Anakin’s seen her in action many times, what with her and Obi-Wan’s years old friendship. “Calm down, young one. I hadn’t planned on you being awake quite yet.”

She holds him back against the pillow even as Anakin gags. The tube dislodges gently from his esophagus with an expert wave of her hand.

Anakin coughs as he spits out the tube, inhaling deeply enough to feel the familiar pinpricks of pain in his chest. Petals fall from his mouth as he does, white and blood-tinged and just as frightening as it had been the first time.

Somehow, he’d thought he’d get used to it at some point. But the sensation of retching jewel flowers is continually jarring. At least this time there hadn’t been any thorns.

Bant’s eyes are sad as she regards him, even if Anakin flinches away from it. She gentles him back against the pillow once more. “Why didn’t you come to me sooner, my dear?”

“Why? What good would that do?” Anakin keeps his eyes firmly away from Bant’s searching look, tracing the blue bedcovers intently. “There’s no cure.”

A small, wounded sound is emitted to his left. Finally, Anakin’s conscious mind acknowledges what the force has been trying to tell him.

Obi-Wan.

Bant sighs heavily, straightening. She lets down the curtains that surround his bed to give him a semblance of privacy. “Your master insists on speaking with you, young one. I couldn’t keep him out.” She squeezes Anakin’s shoulder in what is most likely supposed to be an act of support before she turns away.

Anakin swallows down another mouthful of petals.  “Hello Master,” he snarks, eyes still averted, “come to watch the show?”

He feels the bed dip at his side as Obi-Wan sits. Anakin resists the urge to squirm away.

“Anakin.”

Now there are fingers under his jaw, tipping his head upwards. Obi-Wan’s eyes are like storm clouds when they meet his own, brows knitted together until the skin between them dimples. Anakin grits his teeth against the urge to do something stupid, like kiss him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

The question hangs between them, caught on a plethora of unspoken words.

Anakin laughs. The sound gives way to another fit of coughs. This time, he ends up having to spit out thorns. He wipes his mouth on the sleeve of his hospital gown and the fabric comes away bloody.

Obi-Wan looks absolutely stricken, hands rubbing at Anakin’s back in soothing circles.

“How could I have possibly told you?” Anakin counters sharply. “I’m a Jedi. I’m supposed to live by the code – ”

“Do you really think me so heartless that – ”

“Well you’ve given me enough lectures about my attachments – ”

“I’m trying to help you, when will you understand that I can’t if you don’t tell me anything.”

“Are you even listening to me?” Anakin grits at last. He fights the urge to shove Obi-Wan off the bed. “It’s against the code – ”

“To hell with the code, Padawan.”

The world bottoms out from under Anakin’s stomach. He’s sure that if he was standing, he would have fallen over by now. “What?” he croaks.

Obi-Wan seizes him by the shoulders, bleeding desperation into the force. “Bant told me what kind of sickness this is. Force knows how you’ve hidden this from me for this long. But this ends here, you understand? She said there’s a procedure – ”

“No.”

Obi-Wan looks at him helplessly. “Be reasonable, Anakin.”

“No,” Anakin chokes. He tries to imagine life after removing those precious seeds of love from his lungs, stripping his feelings for Obi-Wan from his soul. The sweet air of the galaxy, free from gore and thorns. Tries to imagine his death as the ultimate consequence. Fear grips him for a singularly tense moment as he meets Obi-Wan’s anguished gaze. “Am I going to die?” he asks, breathless.

“No, my dear one,” Obi-Wan soothes a hand down his cheek, leans in to press their foreheads together. His voice is hushed. “If we can get you to surgery in time, then everything will be fine, Anakin.”

“No.”

Obi-Wan makes another hurt sound, like he can’t quite hold it back. He’s silent for a moment before he continues, voice pained. “Perhaps if – if we spoke to the person who’s. Who you – ”

Anakin tenses. “He doesn’t feel the same way.”

Obi-Wan squeezes his eyes shut. Anakin watches the line of his throat work as he swallows, sweeps his gaze up to the neatly trimmed beard, the faint lines that bracket his mouth where his smile dimples.

He tries desperately to keep his hands to himself.

Obi-Wan leans back, but the space between them remains infinitesimal. Anakin trembles as lips settle gently on his forehead in a kiss.

“Then he’s a fool, my dear,” Obi-Wan murmurs against heated flesh. Another kiss. “I am sure you will love again. If you would only – ”

“It’s you, Master.”

Anakin shudders as Obi-Wan’s body tenses in a single, terrifying moment of silence. He needs to cough, but he doesn’t dare do so. He’s thought of this moment a thousand times over, worked through every possibility of rejection, every serene, reasonable explanation Obi-Wan could possibly give him. The only mystery that remains is which scenario will manifest itself.

The answer, however, is none of them, for Obi-Wan laughs.

When he draws back, his eyes are wet, but still unbelievably kind. Anakin’s stomach plummets. “Anakin,” Obi-Wan pushes saber-calloused fingers into the tangle of Anakin’s hair. “Anakin. Come now, we’re smarter than this.”

“Speak for yourself,” Anakin snarls in response. “Some of us – ”

“Oh you misunderstand me, dear,” Obi-Wan murmurs, silencing Anakin’s words immediately. He draws Anakin near, settles their bodies together, the warmth of him seeping through the thin layer of Anakin’s hospital tunic. “I’m merely poking fun at how we’re both apparently blind.”

Anakin blinks, dares to raise his eyes to meet Obi-Wan’s. “What’re you saying?” he asks, something hot blossoming in the very core of his psyche. Their bond throbs. “Master – ”

“Contrary to your opinion of me, Anakin, I am not a fool,” Obi-Wan looks almost amused now. “At least, not enough of a fool to ever turn you away.”

Anakin scrambles forward the second the words are spoken. Obi-Wan nearly stumbles backwards from the unexpected force of his kiss, but he smiles into it, mouth curving upwards in that absolutely maddening way. His mouth his sweet, honey suckled, and Anakin feels like a man starved.

“Easy,” Obi-Wan murmurs against his lips, “Slowly, Anakin.”

“No.” Anakin nearly grumbles, he’s quite literally a dying man, but of course Obi-Wan would –

“I take it you won’t require further treatment?”

Bant’s voice is jarring, but playful, as she calls at them from outside the curtain. Anakin almost bowls over at the thought; he’d somehow managed to completely forget the situation in his euphoria. Obi-Wan gasps softly as he pulls away and Anakin wants to hear that sound again and again and again –

Then they’re all laughing, Bant included, the sound of it carrying brightly through the wide, airy room.

Obi-Wan grins at him, eyes squished into little half-moons of happiness, and Anakin takes a deep, clear breath for the first time in months.

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

HI 💕💕💕 can I request fluff with oikawa and #11 🥺🥺 i’ve been in my feels lately LOL written please :) if you want to change anything it’s fine✨

Physical fatigue consumed every inch of the setter’s body, with tension stretching along his shoulders, developing numerous knots between his muscles. While walking along the hallway to his apartment, he sunk his bandaged fingers into the flesh, applying pressure to ease the ache, but his limbs were of little use. The final set of the evening left his fingers in dire need of rest, and since he departed from practice they throbbed incessantly under the tape. What he truly required was a weekend of rest, preferably one where he spent at least one day in bed, cuddled into his loving partner’s embrace. Unfortunately, the cure to his problems would not be available until Sunday, as you were invited to a sleepover hosted by your college friends. He doubted you would be home now, and the thought only increased the setter’s dismay.

Maybe he could ask that you return home one day early? That wasn’t too unreasonable, was it?

A chorus of heavy sighs parted Oikawa’s lips as he entered the apartment. A bitter expression painted his features, directing his bottom lip to curl out slightly. Except, his bitterness was short-lived, instantly evaporating when he caught sight of an adorable little person, sulking on the couch. There you were, dressed in a brand-new pair of pajamas, with a matching sleeping mask attached to your head. The amount of accessories decorating you from head to toe was so damn excessive; it was hard for him to maintain a frown. When you finally noticed your boyfriend, a loud whine vibrated inside your throat as you wigged your fingers at him, gesturing for him to enter your embrace.

“What happened? Did they cancel?” After lowering his gym bag onto the floor, and removing his shoes, he padded across the room to where you were sat. Upon reaching the couch, he placed a hand against the back cushion just above your shoulder, before dipping down to plant a single kiss against your forehead. “I would join you, but I’m covered in blood and sweat right now. I don’t think you want me to stain your brand-new pjs, do you?” The teasing edge to his low voice did not eliminate the alarm rising inside your core – did he just say blood?

Instantly, your mind abandoned the self-pity party it was partaking in, as your y/e/c irises scanned him for any visible injures. “What are you talking about? Did you get hurt?” Your palms framed his face after you failed to locate the source of his pain. You delicately guided his face from one side to the other, permitting you an additional opportunity to analyze his visage for any sign of blood. But once again you found nothing.

“It’s an expression, y/n. I’m not bleeding. Though, I did hurt my fingers.” His caramel irises flickered to the couch, where his bandaged fingers were sinking into the back cushion. It was strange but your presence alone helped lift some of the stress that plagued him. Who knew that his pain was no match for the presence of significant other?

“What? Oh my god, Tooru!” A horrified expression crossed your visage at the sight of his worn out limbs. “You know what, you’re ban from volleyball now. Sorry. I don’t make the rules.” A little huff was exhaled through your nostrils to demonstrate the seriousness of the matter, but the noise only earned you another laugh from the setter.

“You’re always so dramatic, my sweet angel. How about this instead, I won’t play volleyball for the next two days, and instead you and I will have our own slumber party, hm?” Curving his eyebrows, he awaited your response with a wide beam displayed. Spending the weekend cuddled under a pillow fort was actually very enticing – hell, he would do anything as long as it was with you.

“Hmmmm.” Squishing his face with your palms, you tried to appear deep in thought, knitting your brows together. “Okay. Deal. Go shower, pretty boy. We have a long two nights ahead of us!”

While your boyfriend showered and selected his outfit for the impromptu sleepover, it was your task to begin building the largest pillow fort known to mankind. After watching a few Youtube videos on how to construct a proper support for the fort, you elected to include the rod from your mop and broom as the frame. A thin mattress cover was draped over the rods, connecting them to the loveseat couch in the living room. All that remained now was to add the pillows inside and to decorate the outside with some fairy lights. You were about to exit the fort to gather the pillows from your bedroom when you heard your boyfriend comically question your absence.

“I wonder where my pretty little angel is?”

Poking your head out from under the sheet, your plan to return his comment with sarcasm was withdrawn when your eyes landed upon him. His skin was glistening under the dimmed lighting, and while his mocha mane lacked its usual puff, you were overcome with the urge to play with the wet strands. He just appeared so soft, dressed in a plain t-shirt and flannel pajama pants.  

“What? Did you think I’d look worse after a shower, angel face? I take offense to that, you know.” A hand was placed against his hip as he clicked his tongue in disappointment.

“No. You just… never wear pjs. You look so…” Why the hell were you stuttering? Growing exasperated with your own inadequacies, you sighed out the remainder of the compliment “cute. Why the hell are you so cute?”

“I don’t know. Should I ask my mother?” Humour released in the form of a melody, demonstrating the playfulness of his retort. Your heart was seized by adoration when the soundwaves hit your eardrums.

“You are so annoying, Tooru. Stop teasing me and go bring me some pillows!” With one hand clawing at your forehead, a series of grunts were growled out.

“I’ll do that in a minute.” Instead of retreating to the bedroom, and complying with your demands, he advanced closer, kneeling down to where you were sat. “You know, talking about my mother… I think we should take a trip back home soon. Don’t you think it’s time you met her?” While his voice was projected confidentially, Oikawa was a tad bit nervous. Two years into dating – wasn’t it time that you two met?

The suggestion was enough to force you out of the comfort of the fort and into your boyfriend’s arms. Once you tackled him onto the ground, he mumbled a little “ow” but a smile remained glued to his features. “You’re very sus right now, Tooru. Why are you saying this now!?”

Oikawa did not mind being walled in by your arms on either side, even if you were interrogating him. Particularly because now he was provided a perfect view of your face. “Well, I can’t propose to someone she hasn’t met before, now can I?”

Your arms almost caved in upon hearing his explanation – were you hearing this right?

“Excuse me!?” Underlying your words was a demand for some clarification. He seemed to have understood that, as he provided you one seconds later.

“You heard me. No one’s ever stuck with me for so long before, y/n. Well, except for Iwa-chan!” His eyelids fluttered shut for a second, while his mouth twitched into a large smile. How could he not want to marry you?

Inside of your chest, your heart squealed in joy, and the additional amount of blood rushing through your veins left your mind in a daze. “Lucky me then. I’m glad none of your ex’s stayed, because if they did, I would have never met you.” Soon, tears formed at your waterline as the weight of his words slowly sunk in. “I love you, pretty boy.”

Your reaction was everything he could have wanted and more. Reaching up, he brushed his thumb along your cheek, swiping away the liquid sticking to your skin.

“I love you, y/n.”

A/N: I 100% do not know how to write small things WELP. BUT I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS. I hope you enjoyed it! <3 Thank you for participating! 

[brezchez]

~~~

Feelings

Logicality, High School AU 💙🖤

~~~

TW: None

Pairing(s): Logicality, background Prinxiety

Word Count: 2,016

Logan stared at Patton as he worked away with his math homework. He was biting the tip of his pencil, staring down at his book focused and concentrated. A few strands of his soft, caramel curls fell down in front of his slipping glasses and as he pushed them back up, Logan refrained from brushing them out of the way himself. He felt his face getting warmer and warmer the longer he stared at the boy opposite him and his heart skipped a beat when Patton tilted his head. Perhaps Virgil and Roman were right; was he able to feel emotions after all?

Finally realizing how long he had been staring for, Logan quickly snapped himself out his trance, readjusted his tie and glasses and resumed with the task at hand.....only to be distracted once again a few moments later. Patton's hand was outstretched on the table, just within in reaching distance for Logan to place his on it. It was dusted with freckles, just like his face and Logan so desperately wanted to hold it, but no. They were both meant to be doing work, and that was what he should have been focusing on. So, he would focus on that for now.

 

***

"Thanks for the study session again today Logan! And thank you so much for helping me with that last question, I really couldn't get my head around it!" Patton laughed as he packed his bag, getting ready to leave.

"You're most welcome Patton. Although I do have to inquire how you would be able to 'wrap your head around something'. Your head is not flexible enough to be able to move-" he was cut off by a delicate touch to his lips.

"Remember, Lo; it's just a figure of speech," Patton giggled. He found it adorable how literally Logan took things and although most found it aggravating, he didn't mind and personally found it hilarious.

"Oh, yeah. Right," Logan replied, unconsciously blushing furiously. Patton quickly lowered his finger from the two soft lines they were once planted on. Logan expected him to move, but he didn't and he instead stayed rooted to the spot, as he stared curiously into the mocha brown eyes walled by a pair Warby Parker glasses. He felt Patton's cornflower blue eyes glide along his face where they eventually rested on his lips. His gaze flickered between Logan's eyes and his lips and he began to lean in ever...so...slightly...

 

"Y-You should get going now. It's getting dark." Patton's eyes widened and his eyes followed Logan's finger which pointed to the window. As he turned away for a small moment, Logan scrunched up his face, annoyed at himself for interrupting what could have been the highlight of his evening, of his life.

"Yeah. I guess I should," he said, an underlying tone of sadness was masked behind his bubbly response, "See ya tomorrow Lo-Lo!"

"S-see you."

 

***

 

"God, what was I thinking?" Logan thought out loud, getting Roman and Virgil's attention. They were sitting next to each other in front of Logan and turned around when they heard his exasperated complain. He told them what happened the night before and of course their reactions were exactly what he predicted them to be.

'You idiot!' 'Why would you stop it?!' 'Are you crazy?' 'But you were so close!' were only some of the responses.

"I dunno Lo? What were you thinking? You had a golden opportunity right there. You could have started off something amazing, but no. You just had to ruin it, didn't ya bud?"

"Now, now, now Virge. That's only gonna make him feel worse. Can't you see he's already upset with himself enough as he is?" Roman slung his arm around his boyfriend's shoulders and gestured to Logan. He was staring sadly at Patton, who was sitting a few desks away, doodling in his notebook. Virgil looked at his friend sympathetically and immediately regret what he had said.

"You're right. Sorry Logan."

Logan turned his head, nodded then smiled at Virgil, indicating that he accepted his apology before averting his gaze down to the desk.

"I want to be with him, I really do. But I just do not believe that I am able to provide him with everything he wants or needs. For starters, we're complete opposites. He's very emotional, and joyful and happy and jubilant, whereas I, on the other hand, feel nothing. Alexithymia is a figurative curse. And Patton deserves someone who is a better match to him. He deserves someone who can give him the world. That someone is clearly not me," he said, his voice stained with sorrow and sadness. Roman and Virgil looked at each other, their eyes full of pity for their closest friend. They all quickly glanced over to the boy Logan pined for, who didn't seem to notice them, and that's when Roman had had enough.

"Okay Logan. That's it," he said in a voice that was stern and loud, but quiet enough for only just the three of them to hear, "You say that you can't feel emotions, right?"

Logan was caught slightly off-guard by Roman's sudden outburst.

"W-well yes. I have told you this time and time aga-"

"Well, how do you feel when you're around Patton?"

"What?"

"How do you feel when you're around Patton?" Roman repeated. Logan stared at him for a moment, turned to Patton, and then back round to his friends.

"I....I don't know....I've never really...."

"Do you feel happy when you're around him?" Roman asked as he winked at Virgil, whose eyebrows were raised in confusion.

"Yes" Logan replied, slowly.

"Do you feel sad when you see him crying or down?"

"Yes"

"Do you feel scared when he is in danger or trouble?"

"Yes"

"Disgusted when other girls are hitting on him? Angry when people make him upset?"

"Well, y-yes I don't know what you're implying Roman."

Virgil, who had now caught onto what his boyfriend was doing, rolled his eyes and they both said in unison,

"You have feelings for him."

"What do you-" Logan's eyes widened in realisation. Virgil and Roman smiled at each other.

Roman cocked his eyebrow, "So? What you gonna do about it?"

 

***

Logan and Patton were studying with each other again but now Logan was unusually more nervous than he had ever been with Patton before. He twiddled his fingers and struggled not to stare at the boy opposite him.

"Hey Logan?" Patton asked, his eyes still directed at his paper, "Can you help me with this question please?"

Logan shuffled his chair over to Patton and took a look at the problem. It was a question about algebra - Patton's weakest point in math. Pointing to the paper with his pen, he explained the question and what techniques he could've used to solve it. He became so engrossed in his own conversation that he didn't notice Patton fixated on his face, paying no attention at all to what he was saying; he just listened to the velvety texture of his voice. As he finished the question, Logan raised his face, only to be met with Patton so ridiculously close to his. He felt his face heating up and leaned back quickly to stop any and all attempts he had to seize Patton's face and cover it with kisses.

"I-I'm sorry I should stop getting so up close to you. I really don't mean to. I can see that you're getting uncomfortable," Patton looked away and laughed awkwardly. Logan caught sight of this, and his heart ached at the thought that he made Patton uncomfortable, when it was in actual fact vice versa, but for good reason. He closed his books and picked up his bag.

"Thank you again for the study session Logan. I can see that I've been making you uneasy for the past few days when we do homework together. I really don't know what's come over me," he said in a quiet voice. Logan looked at him with sad eyes, fearing what he would say next.

"I........I understand if you...don't want to carry on with these anymore," Patton stood up from the table, "But I just want you to know that I loved doing this with you and that you are the best teacher I've ever had." He forced a smile then turned to walk away from the door.

Logan opened his mouth to say something, but no noise came out. He watched silently as Patton moved further away from him, seeing his last chance of happiness slipping through his fingers once again.

 

 

 

'So? What are you gonna do about it?'

 

The voice in his head yanked him forwards and he grabbed Patton's wrist, just as he was about to open the door. Patton reacted quickly to the contact, turning around, his eyes widened.

"I um..." Patton's eyebrows were raised in anticipation as Logan struggled to get his words out. He shook like a leaf and moved his grip from Patton's wrist to his hands, still staring at the ground in fear that if he looked into those blue marbles again, he'd get lost in its endless maze, and never find a way out.

It was now or never.

 

"Patton," Logan cleared his throat and his pulse started to quicken, "It has come to my attention, with the ever reluctant help of Roman and Virgil, that I um.....I have feelings...for.....you. Well, it was only implied by them. Frankly I don't know what these feelings are, and I never knew that I had any. Emotions are a.....complicated concept." He slowly lifted his gaze from off of the floor and raised his head. As soon as he met his gaze, their eyes were instantly locked and Logan softly gripped Patton's hand.

"But.....whenever we're apart I always have this unknown urge to be near you again. I constantly want to be by your side, and......even when we are together I don't feel like we are close enough."

Patton opened his mouth to say something but was quickly cut off by Logan; he hadn't finished and wanted to get everything out first before it all went down the figurative drain.

"And about what you said earlier: you could never make me uncomfortable and I apologize if I made you feel uneasy in any way. My responses to you, my stuttering, my nervousness, was all due to the fact that I, allegedly, had feelings for you. These moments with you, I cherish, because.....I love being with you. You make me feel.......emotions," Logan looked down and furrowed his eyebrows as he realized that what Roman and Virgil had said was in fact all true and he was.....

In love with Patton.

He looked back up and saw Patton, beaming at him. A few tears stained his cheeks, which made Logan worry.

"Patton? Are you okay? Why are you crying? Was it something I said?" He lifted his hand to his cheek to wipe away the tears. Patton held it as Logan stroked it softly.

"Yes. Yes it was something you said," he replied and Logan's expression became even more troubled. He widened his eyes as Patton rolled his, "But not in that way."

Patton swiftly placed one of his hands on Logan's cheek and the other on his tie and pulled them both simultaneously. Their lips connected and Logan's eyes widened in surprise, but soon closed as he sunk into the kiss, his hands finding their way to Patton's neck and waist. He felt him tug harder on his tie, pulling him deeper into the kiss, both his hands now around Patton's waist, and Patton's fingers tangled themselves in his chocolate locks. Patton eventually pulled away first and Logan couldn't help but feel a small sense of anger, sadness and lust as he reluctantly pulled away too. Patton released a relieved laugh, their foreheads touching and Logan smiled.

"Is this..." he began and Patton looked up at him, "Is this......love?" Logan stared innocently, like a puppy, into Patton's kind eyes.

Patton replied, "Yes, yes it is," and he eagerly pulled Logan back in for one more tender kiss.

[imherongraystairstrash]

Hi! If you are still open to request, can I please suggest you something? I haven’t thought a prompt for it but a situation, I saw you have written many Gabrily fics and wondered if you’d do one with them deciding to have Kit? Like after the hard time they had to have Anna maybe were a little hesitant to have another and how they reached to the conclusion that they wanted one more ? Of course if this fits right with you. Thanks for taking the time on reading this ask have a nice day

Hellooo! I’ve finally finished it! I cannot tell you how long I’ve been writing this fic for 😂 I made it so that Cecily’s pregnancy was a surprise since I like to think that none of their children were planned, just because of how I see these characters. They don’t seem like the kind of people who would plan to have a child, they’d just let life throw at them what it may. Hope you enjoy!

Carry Him In Thy Heart:

Characters: Cecily, Gabriel, Christopher, Jem and Brother Enoch (We can’t have a birth fic without our main man: E-Bro) 

Gabriel was frustrated. Yet again, the clave was being difficult, and Bridgestock was annoying as usual. He washed his face, got changed and climbed into bed beside Cecily, who was sleeping with infectious serenity. Gabriel matched her breathing and instantly felt better. He didn’t embrace her, for fear of her waking up, and instead turned around and thought about the meeting. Didn’t Shadowhunters know better? How can they be so foolish?

He sighed and turned around just as Cecily opened her sleepy eyes.

“No no no no, did I wake you?” Gabriel said, pulling her close and holding her against his chest. 

Cecily said something, but it came out muffled.

“What?” he asked, pulling away.

“I asked if you were all right.”

“Of course I am.”

Cecily looked at him with knowing eyes. 

“Gabriel, you have to trust me. I’m your wife.”

“I do. Of course I trust you.” 

Cecily held up her hand to his face. “Then tell me what’s troubling you.”

“The Clave.”

Cecily laughed. “Why is that the root of every Shadowhunter’s problems?”

Gabriel shook his head. 

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t go.”

Gabriel looked at her in concern. “Are you feeling better?”

“Much better.”

“Did the Silent Brothers say what was wrong?”

“They said it was normal, no need to worry.”

“Oh,” Gabriel said. He was about to ask what she meant by normal when Cecily spoke.  

“I missed you,” she said as she wrapped her arms and legs around him and kissed his cheek.

“I missed you, too.”

She smiled and kissed him again. Suddenly, she was kissing his face all over. 

“Cecy,” he laughed.

“I really missed you.” she giggled as she climbed into his chest and held his face in between her hands. She kissed him until she was breathless, and then collapsed on top of him. He wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Better?”

“Much better.”

They sighed in unison and rested in each other’s comfort. 

Cecily rested her head on Gabriel’s chest and put her arms around his neck. He was still surprised at how perfectly fit together; like a lock and a key. 

“We should get away one of these days.”

Gabriel closed his eyes and smiled. “Where would we go?”

“Idris,” Cecily continued, her voice coming out a bit muffled, “and sleep in late, take Anna to the pond and not stress over the Clave. Just us, and our two children.”

Gabriel nodded happily until he registered what Cecily had said about children and his eyes shot open in surprise. Was Cecily perhaps still sick? 

“Cecy, we only have one child.”

She sat up and put her hand on her stomach, her face in pure triumph and joy. “Not for long!”

Gabriel shot upward and accidentally bumped his head against Cecily’s.

“By the angel, Cecy, I’m so sorry.” He hugged her and kissed the spot where their heads collided. 

“It’s all right, it doesn’t hurt.”

“I’m such an idiot.”

Cecily laughed and kissed him. “You are my idiot.”

Gabriel had briefly forgotten about Cecily’s announcement, until he once again remembered. 

“Are you really pregnant?”

Cecily smiled widely and nodded. 

“Is that why you were not feeling well this morning? Oh Cecy, I don’t want you to suffer the way you did with Anna.”

Cecily rolled her eyes. “Gabriel. I want this. I want another child.”

“Me too.”

Though few people would have guessed it, Gabriel and Cecily both absolutely adored children. Anna was their pride and joy and it’s safe to say that either would give their lives to protect her, should they have to. They also loved their nieces and nephews dearly and were always happy to babysit them. Gabriel had desperately wanted another child, but he could never ask Cecily to endure what she had once more. He had seen the toll her first pregnancy had taken on her and could never bear to see her that way again. He also felt incredibly lucky to have Anna and since the day she was born he knew if she were his only child, he could die happy. But that didn’t mean he didn’t want another. 

“I would rather nine months of discomfort than always wonder what could have been. Nine months of discomfort for a lifetime of happiness.” Cecily continued, putting a hand over her belly. “I want Anna to have a sibling. We are both blessed with wonderful brothers. I want her to have the same connection.”

Gabriel put his arms around her. “I heard from Sophie that not all pregnancies are the same but I didn’t want to risk the chance that you’d have another terrible one.” He felt Cecily smile against his cheek. “But since you’re already pregnant, maybe this one won’t be as bad.” She pulled away and he got to see her beautiful smile. He loved it when Cecily smiled; she was more radiant than the brightest star. Now, she put his hand where the baby should be.

“I feel him,” she said, “I love him and I’ve only known for less than a day.”

She put her forehead against Gabriel’s and a hand on his cheek. 

“Him?” He asked.

“It’s a boy. I know it.”

Gabriel looked down.

“Gabriel,” Cecily said, bringing his head up and meeting his lips in a tender kiss. “I’ll be okay.”

“I know you will. You’re the strongest Shadowhunter I know.” Gabriel said with a smile.

…

His green eyes were dark in the absence of light, but Cecily lost herself in them enough times to know they were dazzling. He tucked her under his chin and fell back on the bed, holding her tightly. 

“I love you.” Cecily whispered, half asleep. “With all my soul.” 

…

“Angel have mercy on my soul!” Cecily screamed.

Child birth was worse than she remembered. Much worse. Perhaps it was because this pregnancy was not difficult as Anna’s had been. After months of pain, Anna’s birth had been a relief, almost. However, this pregnancy was almost easy, which meant that the birth… She wasn’t accustomed to pain at this magnitude.

Brother Enoch had once again come to deliver the baby, as he had done with Anna. Jem was behind him and Tessa was with Anna and James. Gabriel was patrolling which meant Cecily was alone. 

“I’m going to die,” said Cecily, while she pushed.

No, you won’t.

“Yes, I will.” Cecily fell back and took heavy breaths.

You have to keep pushing.

“I’ve been pushing for the past twenty minutes.” Cecily felt like crying, if not from pain than frustration. “He’s not coming out.”

She wished she could give up. She wished she could run away to earlier this morning, where she wasn’t giving birth. She closed her eyes and tried to shut out everything. Every moment of her life blurred away so that she couldn’t think of anything, couldn’t remember anything lovely and sweet and good. All she could think was that she was going to die. The feeling seized her and dug it’s sharp, unforgiving claws into her and refused to let go. She couldn’t die. Her daughter needed her. Cecily felt her breath come shallow. 

She didn’t hear him come, but she became dimly aware of Jem standing beside her. He took her hand and held it in both of his.

Push, Cecily.

She looked up at his closed eyes.

I believe in you; you’re a Herondale and you won’t give up. You’re a devoted mother, a wonderful mother and you sacrificed too much to give up. Push, Cecily.

She obeyed. She could trust her brother’s parabatai. She let out a cry in pain as she pushed again. She gasped in air, but there wasn’t enough of it. Jem squeezed her hand. She focused on breathing. If she can keep drawing one breath after another, she can push a couple more times. A couple more and her baby would be free. 

At some point, there was a clanging of wood against the floor and Cecily’s other hand was clutching a warmer one. A hand was placed on her back allowing her to rest a little bit.

“That's it, Cecy. You’re doing so well.” 

Cecily put her head on Gabriel’s chest in between one push and another. 

She kept going and going; time had lost it’s essence and all that existed was pushing, breathing and tears, until it was finally over.

The second her baby’s cries filled the air, Cecily became boneless. Had Gabriel not been holding her, she definitely would have crashed backwards into the bed. Jem turned to go, but she squeezed his hand.

“Thank you.” She whispered. “I would probably still be giving birth if it weren’t for you.”

Jem bowed his head (which is his way of smiling) and went to help Enoch. 

Gabriel kneeled beside her and whispered sweet words into her ear. He kissed her temple, then her forehead and finally brought his lips to the back of her hand. Their son hadn’t stopped crying, and though she couldn’t feel her legs, Cecily fought the urge to go to him. 

Thankfully, it wasn’t long before Enoch placed her son on her chest. 

Immediately, he stopped crying. 

“Oh, no.” Cecily said, looking down at him, her eyes prickling. “Take him away before I start crying.”

Gabriel chuckled behind her and kissed her temple again.

He was beautiful. The sweetest baby she’d ever seen. His tiny fingers stretched out and flexed as though he were reaching out to Cecily. Cecily kissed his small, outstretched palms, which were impossibly soft against her lips. Her heart swelled. 

You did very well, Cecily Lightwood. I’ve seen few births as difficult as that one.   

“Thank you, Brother Enoch.” Cecily said. 

And though only half an hour ago she could only see darkness, now she saw light. Her children live up to their family name. She held her son closer and thanked the Angel for blessing her once more. 

Tagging: @hitheresomeoneusingthus​ @tsccreatorsnet @celias @rinadragomir @youngreckless @atla-lok143 @livia-dovehallow @autumnangel20

[raspberry-arev]

After The Flood - pt.1

@opalpower13 thank you for sending me a suggestion that inspired this!! There will be a part two :)

It has been 10 years since the famous British boyband, The Ark, disbanded for personal reasons. Jimmy and Lister have been a couple for a long time now, and as the trio of friends starts their small revival tour, they both realize there are things they need to say - to each other, to the fanbase, and to the world.

Characters: Jimmy, Lister, Rowan, Angel/Feresteh, OC Abby (Rowan’s wife)

Tags: Bicci, Older Ark, Proposal, Coming out ... no Frowan this time sorry

Length: 3.6k words

JIMMY

It’s often impossible to pinpoint what exactly set off an event – or perhaps multiple – that changed your life as you knew it.

That was not Jimmy’s case, however. He remembered that Barbecue Saturday very well.

This time, it was Rowan and his spouse Abby who hosted. The two couples took turns and Jimmy was oh so grateful for it; the idea of managing Lister’s chaotic culinary experiments more than twice in one summer filled him with dread.

On Saturday morning, Jimmy and Lister packed up and drove all the way to the suburbs of London where Rowan and Abby lived. The sun was bright, everything gleamed buttery yellow, and Jimmy managed to talk Abby into letting him set the table and carry in all the food instead of her, which was quite an accomplishment. She was about as stubborn as her husband.

They rarely invited more than three extra people though. Being in the public eye in your formative years made you appreciate small gatherings of trustworthy people. And one of those proved to be Angel. Or, you know, Feresteh, but her nickname really stuck with them. From that time Jimmy nearly quit the band and Lister impaled himself and almost drowned in mud… yeah, call that a wild youth.

Over ten years later, they were hardly the same people.

After they decided to quit being The Ark for their own wellbeing and safety, Rowan kept his place in the music industry as a songwriter, producer and a solo artist. He went with the name Le Monde, a play on his surname as well as French for “the world”. It suited him. He was the world, never small, never just one thing.

Lister stopped being involved in music after a few collabs. While he was figuring out what to do next, he took a few modelling jobs, acted in music videos and got a small part in a sitcom. Jimmy used that time to get a college degree, but found he just wouldn’t be able to get the usual “college experience” he yearned for, and only got his diploma after doing classes long-distance.

Jimmy and Lister also got together. After many failed attempts at courtship and pretending being friends with benefits was enough… they got together. To Jimmy, it felt like it was inevitable; they have acted like partners long before it was official, they just needed to clean up their own messes before they could be a couple. It wouldn’t have felt right back then, but it did now.

Rowan was already at the grill preparing meat and grilling camembert in shiny aluminium foil when Angel marched in, tall, elegant, beaming. Jimmy loved to see her again. Each time, she seemed a little more confident, more expressive, more… just more. She really did find her calling in the music industry, just as much as he found his tucked away in rural England with his boyfriend.

Yet, he was to be “tucked away” no longer. At a certain point during their cook-out, their group fell momentarily silent; everyone was chewing their meal and soaking in the sun. Then Angel said, in an unfamiliar, cautious tone: “You see, I was talking to a couple of people…”

Rowan exchanged a quick look with Jimmy. “Go on,” he said.

“It’s gonna be ten years since you guys disbanded, you know.”

“I know,” Jimmy echoed.

“So. I was thinking. Hear me out, even if you think it’s bollocks…” Angel shot them a look, and then made a motion with her hand as if she was presenting them with something. “Have you ever thought of doing a revival concert?”

As Rowan did a theatrical “errrm”, Jimmy saw straight through his best friend’s bullshit: the two of them rehearsed this conversation. He knew Ro for most of his life, who did he think he was fooling?

His mind offered the answer quickly: Abby, perhaps. He wants to see how she would react, doesn’t he? Rowan would love to do a revival show like that, no doubt, but he valued his wife’s opinion too much to make a decision without her.

He felt movement on his left, and looked Lister in the eyes.

“Well,” said Lister, looking at him. “Wow, okay,” said Jimmy. Both were considering.

Angel swiftly picked up, “Just wanted to run this idea by you. Not because it’s me who would love to see you play once more – I mean, of course I would – but it’s expected to have an amazing turn-out.”

“Obviously, they’re The Ark,” Abby commented matter-of-factly.

“You’re right, Abby. So, guys? How are we feeling about this?”

It was bizzare. Normally, Jimmy would have expected to say he wasn’t at all interested – the boyband life was not for him anymore, tough luck – but recently, he felt a strong sense of nostalgia surge through him as the ten year mark got closer. He found himself reaching for his old guitar way more often, strumming at it, looking for something between the strings he could not reach.

Maybe he could do it just once.

What eventually came out of his mouth was… “I haven’t sung like that for a long time though.”

“You sing to me,” Lister contradicted him, his fingers intertwining with his. “All the time.”

Jimmy felt his face get hotter. “That’s hardly… Are you thousands of people?” He turned to Angel. “How many are we talking, anyway?”

She smiled a kind smile. “I don’t know, Jimmy, that depends on whether you three are up to it or not.”

Rowan cleared his throat. “Personally speaking, I think I wouldn’t mind, as long as we are just doing it once, and not trying for a comeback. I wouldn’t go there.”

“Same,” Lister nodded. “I love you guys, but I’m fine the way things are.”

“Right,” said Rowan firmly. “But… just this once, I mean, why not? We could use some extra money.” With this, he gently let his palm rest on Abby’s belly that swelled under her summer dress like a balloon. (Jimmy fought the urge to aww at them.)

Abby immediately assured him they were more than fine financially, but Rowan barely listened, clearly waiting for his former bandmates to say something. Jimmy felt Lister looking at him, unwavering. So he turned to him and asked, “What do you think? Cool or not?”

“I’m waiting for you to say.”

“Why?”

“Don’t want you to feel pressured or anything.”

“You shouldn’t… Just say what your opinion is!”

“You express your opinion,” Lister retorted, pretending to square his shoulders as a threat. Jimmy lovingly nudged him, and to stop being annoying to the remaining three people at the table, he shrugged, “It doesn’t sound so bad. One concert. I mean, we are still friends after all this time, so why not?”

“In that case, I would love to be the centre of attention again!” Lister exclaimed and gave Jimmy a boyish grin. “The crowd was deprived of my looks for too long.”

“Buddy, you were the drummer,” Rowan said. “Bold of you to assume anyone even looked at you with me and Jimmy jumping at the front.”

Jimmy snorted with laughter, but Lister was quick to defend himself. “Google all Lister Bird slash Reader fanfic and then we can talk about who got noticed, buddy.”

“Oi, you’re not even properly revived yet, stop fighting!” Angel called out, but laughter started bubbling from every direction before she even finished the sentence.

They had a proper business meeting about it in two weeks. And then another and another. When they announced the first date, the sales went through the roof. Jimmy had to get off of social media because the internet exploded with their names and faces. But he sort of found it a bit sweet, that so many people stuck around for them, like old friends that he never had the chance to talk to. One concert became three and then five, which was, honestly, more like a small tour at that point. Jimmy fought to call it After The Flood and won.

LISTER

“You really shouldn’t do that, you know. This bitch is hard to get rid of.”

Rowan tried to hide a small cough and put out his cigarette on the metal window sill next to him. “Hey,” he greeted Lister. “Didn’t expect you to come out here.”

“Yeah.” Lister found it hard to hang around smokers, and unfortunately, he met quite the number of them while they were in the process of rehearsing. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“What’s up?”

“Can we walk, like, over there? So… nobody can hear us through the door?”

Rowan eyed him suspiciously, but he followed him to the railing on the edge of the roof. There, he turned to him, seeming to fight himself.

“I’m really looking for a less shitty way to ask this,” he admitted eventually. “But… What have you done now, Lister?”

Lister felt a sort of numbed cramp seize his stomach for a second. It took a lot not to let anger overcome him. They were well over thirty, how the hell was Rowan still treating him like a fuck up? But no. This was more important than old grudges.

“Nothing! As of yet,” he assured his bandmate.

“Okay…?”

“Right. So. Erm. Nobody is here, right? Fine. I had this idea… you know, Jimmy and I have been together for a long time and I obviously care about him a lot, I always have, you kind of know that…”

“Yes, go on,” he pushed on gently.

“Fuck it. I want to fucking propose!”

A giant weight fell off his shoulders when he spoke those words aloud. It was like coming out all over again, god.

Rowan’s eyes twinkled. “Oooh,” he almost whispered, “and you need my help with that? I’m your man, tell me the plan!”

“There is none right now.”

“Oh, okay. I can still help if you want.”

This was another part Lister dreaded discussing.

“I… okay, so, I was thinking of… doing it on stage?”

His friend’s face changed rapidly.

Lister’s dream of a grand proposal to the love of his life in brilliant stage lights and the roars of the audience faded away. “That’s a no? That’s a no. Shit, forget it then.” He felt sick.

“Lister, I’m absolutely positive you mean well,” Rowan started. “But Jimmy would-“

Speak of the devil.

The door opened and out of it peaked Jimmy’s unshaven face. “Oh! There you both are.”

Rowan froze for a second. Lister was ready to improvise. “Alright, so how about I come by yours after practice and you transfer the files to me?” He smiled, but impaled Rowan with a meaningful look.

Fortunately, he caught on. “Oh yeah, yeah, that could work.”

“What files?” Jimmy inquired as he joined them, oblivious.

“Rowan has some of our old drafts still saved. I was thinking of squeezing in a drum solo somewhere, maybe with spoken word over it?”

“Sounds cool,” Jimmy smiled at him and slightly brushed the back of his hand with Lister’s. “Anyway, Dick the Sound Guy wants us all in there immediately.”

“Stop calling him that or I’ll have a Freudian slip at some point,” Lister laughed and guided Jimmy back into the building. Him and Rowan managed to exchange a subtle nod over the shorter man’s head.

JIMMY

As they were packing up that day, Jimmy tried incredibly hard to catch Rowan alone. Just like the old times when he needed to discuss something personal. And yet again, it involved Lister. Jimmy felt young and stupid again, but not really in a good way.

Finally, he managed to stop him while he was putting away the equipment. Lister was meanwhile in the office of their temporary new manager. “Ro, I need advice!” he whispered to his best friend.

“What about?”

“It’s Lister.”

“Oh dear Jesus, I’m having flashbacks.”

“Don’t be a dick, it’s important.”

“Okay then, spill.”

“It kind of involves you too. Just… tell me if it’s a good idea.”

“Go on!”

“I want to, uh… I want to tell people Lister and I are a couple…” He took a breath.  “Which means I would be coming out as gay as well, probably. I know that’s, like, a huge pile of drama, so if you don’t want me to complicate the tour, just say it, it’s honestly kind of irresponsible when I’m thinking about it now…”

“Jimbob. Easy.” Rowan waited for a second for Jimmy to wind down, leaning on a stack of five chairs, and then asked, “Are you really sure about it? Do you want people to know?”

Jimmy felt his thoughts humming in his head. He forced himself to say exactly how he felt.

“I know it’s gonna sound super dramatic, but I don’t want to die not saying it,” he explained slowly. “It became really important to me… I don’t know when. But it did. Talking about this part of me, too. I’m just worried about what Lister might say.”

“So I take it that you didn’t discuss this?”

“No way. I don’t even know how to start!” Jimmy exploded in loud whispering. “I should have talked to him a long time ago, but I just didn’t have the balls.”

“I get that, but… just bring it up. Like, theoretically. What if. I think he’s going to support you through it.”

“How could he?”

“What are you even saying at this point?

“You think he would like people sticking their nose in our personal business? I feel like it’s so unfair to him and his privacy… And I feel terrible about still wanting to do it… even though it’s inconsiderate. It’s all a fucking mess.”

“Okay, okay.” Rowan massaged his nose. He looked like he was trying incredibly hard not to snap at Jimmy and be at least somewhat encouraging. “Look, no spoilers, but I am going to say this. Lister absolutely will notbe mad and he will want to talk about the two of you if you give him the chance. That is all.”

“Wait, what? Ro, did he tell you something?”

“I am not talking!”

“Is that how you treat your best friend in a life crisis?!”

“You’re putting me in a life crisis, don’t you dare play the pity card! I swear, the two of you are a nightmare.”

“Rowan! Come back!”

LISTER

His visit to Rowan’s place was very brief, but it was enough for him to understand Rowan’s concerns. Eventually.

Lister explained that it didn’t feel appropriate for him to just whip out a ring in a restaurant: Jimmy was his love, his dream boy, as cliché as it sounded, and he wanted to do something that would measure up to all he was feeling. Which was… well, a whole lot. Like a “get down on one knee in front of thousands of people” lot.

And yet.

“It’s all great, and I’m sure there are people in the world that would love it, but we are talking about Jimmy.”

“Come on. I know, he’s private about… well, everything, but…”

“That, yes,” Rowan pointed at him while holding a can of coke, “but don’t you think this proposal on stage would be an anxiety-inducing situation? Because to me, that sounds like a lot of pressure and nerves.”

“He hasn’t had attacks since we moved and he went on those meds.”

“That doesn’t really –“

“Matter. Yeah. Yeah, I get your point, mate, he would die of shock. And everybody watching him. Fuck, I’m stupid.”

“No, you’re not,” Rowan grinned. “The two of you are just different… in some aspects. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Will I? Lister asked himself as he was driving back to the hotel that Jimmy and him were staying at for the time being. This was the only thing I came up with, like, ever.

When he swept his key card over the sensor and the door to their suite opened, he was greeted by the smell of dinner. He took a look into their little kitchen and found his boyfriend sitting at the table with his laptop. He didn’t notice him for a second, so Lister came up behind him and hugged him tightly.

Jimmy yelped.

“Where’s the food?!” Lister shook him a little, imitating Batman.

“Your hands are so cold!” Jimmy protested, but there was a trace of laughter in his voice. “On the stove, you bully!”

Lister almost flew over there, looking under the lid on the pot.

“Pasta,” Jimmy shrugged. “I needed my comfort food, so that’s that for you.” Lister smiled and thanked him, because yes, he was starving. Pasta was Jimmy’s go-to meal to cook, as it was quick to make and he was a pasta-sauce prodigy.

While his dinner was heating up in the microwave, Jimmy made small-talk about the supposed unused lyrics Rowan and him exchanged. Lister found it hard to lie to him, so he just turned to playful teasing, telling Jimmy to stop sniffing around, he’ll hear it when the time comes.

“Oh come on,” Jimmy huffed. “I’m just asking! And it’s my show, too.”

“Sorry. Totally gonna steal your spotlight.”

“Lister, just tell me what it is.”

“A song.”

“What song?”

“A song that you have to wait for.”

“Babe, what song?!”

Lister took him by the waist and pulled him against his body. “Are you trying to ‘babe’ me into telling you right now? Is that what’s happening? Right in front of my pasta?” He went in for a kiss, and Jimmy tried to murmur something against his lips… but then he gave up. They leaned into each other and kept kissing until Lister pulled away to open the microwave. He got himself a fork and went to sit down after the long day, but Jimmy stayed there, right next to the sink. Looking a bit like he was going to hurl.

Before Lister could ask if he’s okay, Jimmy sat down on the other chair with a determined look on his face.

“There is something I need to discuss!” he blurted out.

Lister cautiously dropped the fork back into the bowl. “Okay…? And it’s something to do with me, yeah?”

“Yep. A lot to do with you.” He was visibly nervous. He clasped his hands together, as if Lister would have not noticed. “I… I was thinking about this one thing, and I need your opinion about it.”

“Cool. Go for it.”

“It’s about our relationship.”

“Are you aware you sound very sinister right now?”

He wildly shook his hands as if he wanted to dry them off. “Sorry, didn’t mean to,” he apologized in a strained voice. Then he cleared his throat, sharply lifted his eyes towards Lister’s and exclaimed, “I would like to reveal that we’re together.”

Lister felt everything about his face go lax in shock. He opened his eyes round and wide, his mouth followed, and Jimmy looked like he would faint.

“I, er. I just. I thought about it and I think it’s a decent idea and – please say something, Lister, before I get a fucking heart attack right now.”

It must have been so hard for him to speak up. Lister thought of his proposal plans and felt his mouth slowly form a smile. “I think it’s… brilliant! Yes, I would really like to do that!”

“Wait, really?”

“This is – I didn’t think you would want to, when did you change your mind?”

Jimmy shrugged, grinning in a sheepish way that made him look much younger. And cuter. “I thought I just… wanted to be open about this part of my life. Figured it’s time to say we are together. But if you, like, don’t feel like it, then…”

Lister beamed. “I feel like it. If you do, I do, trust me.” He walked around the table and lifted Jimmy into a hug. He laughed, relieved.

This was when it dawned on Lister… it was not such an easy matter. Exciting, yes, but it would gather all kinds of attention. He leaned onto the table, grabbed his dinner and him and Jimmy started talking about the situation it would put them in. If both are truly okay with it, how much would they reveal, when is the best time to do it. They kept talking through the bathroom door and while they were changing into pajamas in their bedroom.

As they were laying down and Lister gestured Jimmy to crawl into his arms, they became quieter. “You know why I also want to say it?” Jimmy mumbled, lying on the soft linen with one eye open.

“I’m all ears.”

“If I have to see one more article about which model or actress you’re screwing, I’m gonna lose the remaining marbles that I have.” Lister started chuckling as Jimmy awkwardly added, “Which is, admittedly, not many. Most have been lost in my youth.”

“Oh no,” Lister laughed and turned Jimmy’s face upwards to his. “So this just in: my boyfriend is possessive. Fancy that.”

“I’m not, it’s… I am… Oh, you hated Jowan, stop being smug.”

“I know I did, we both know. But jealous Jimmy? That’s a rare sight.”

“It’s just super uncomfortable. It’s all women, as well.”

“Heteronormativity is a bitch,” Lister nodded. He snuggled closer and let out a breath, “Don’t worry though. I am exclusively your problem.”

Jimmy kissed him, smiling. Lister felt lightheaded. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Jimmy’s. He loved this – he loved how much he felt for him after so long they have been together. It never ceased or faded away… because it was Jimmy.

Lister was pretty sure he would love him until his last day on Earth.

It was time to start looking for a ring.

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

Z for Kaoru/Yusuke with Bonus Shouichi/Makoto (Double Date)

Z is for double date

Makoto’s wanted to work directly with Ichijo Kaoru for years, and now that he’s getting to, what strikes him is just how tired the man seems. Not that it makes anything but sense--his work ethic is legendary, which mostly means that he never seems to relax. He’s always doing something. Makoto’s never heard him mention hobbies, vacations, no girlfriend or wife. Work, work, work.

Which is why, when Ichijo turns to him one day and says, “You couldn’t recommend a good restaurant around here, could you?” Makoto’s first response is to say, “Pardon?”

Once he’s gathered himself, which only takes a second or two, he does manage to continue with, “Right, ah, restaurants. Yes, I know a few, are you--who are you entertaining?”

“A friend of mine just came back from a long trip.” And--this perpetually harried man’s eyes soften, and he doesn’t quite smile, but he’s definitely thinking of smiling. “I thought we might get something to eat, I haven’t taken a real evening off in a while.”

Makoto can’t help smiling himself. “Well, what kind of food does your friend like?”

“Oh, he’ll eat just about anything. He loves to cook, actually, he makes an amazing curry--” Ichijo cuts off abruptly, as if he thinks he’s said too much, but then continues. “In any case, he’s been out of the country for a few months, and I’d like to treat him. He enjoys visiting new restaurants.”

Makoto’s smile becomes a grin. “I have a friend like that. Who loves food, I mean, not that he’s been out of the country. He runs a restaurant, he almost never travels. I’ve been trying to convince him to take a break for a while.”

“Really? Well, I’d say I should go to your friend’s restaurant, but it sounds like maybe he could use an evening off as much as I could.” As if to punctuate, Ichijo takes a long sip of his coffee, blinking tiredly. “Actually, you know, Hikawa, why don’t you come with us? Talk your friend into taking a night off too and we’ll all get dinner together. It’ll be my treat, senior to junior.”

“That’s, I--that’s incredibly kind of you to offer, thank you, I’d, we’d love to.” I’ll make Shouichi take a night off if it kills me. “Do you, uh--you said your friend eats pretty much anything. Do you like yakiniku?”

--

It takes less work than Makoto had been expecting to talk Shouichi into it. No work at all, actually--he explains, and Shouichi immediately brightens and says, “Oh, a double date, that sounds fantastic.”

“Well, no, I mean--I don’t think. I don’t know if Ichijo is. He just said friend.”

“That’s also what you call me.” Shouichi beams at him. “Don’t worry, I can think it’s a date without saying so.”

Makoto blushes. “I’m sorry, I just--worry. I mean, they might be, but if they aren’t--Ichijo’s my senior, I don’t want to offend him.” A pause. “But whatever it is for them, it’s a date for us.”

--

The first thing that strikes him about Ichijo’s friend is the smile, one hundred watts directed squarely at him from across the yakiniku place. The second thing, when they’re shaking hands, is the eyes.

“Godai Yusuke,” Ichijo’s friend says, and Makoto thinks, he has Shouichi’s eyes.

Not exactly, of course--it’s not as if they’re the same shape or color as Shouichi’s, his eyelashes are longer, laugh lines deeper. There’s a look, though, that he and Shouichi share, an intensity that Makoto finds jarringly familiar.

Granted, it’s not the first time he’s met someone else with eyes like that. Some people just have them. A journalist who interviewed Mana once for an article about psychics. The guy who does Makoto’s dry-cleaning. A man who stopped him once to ask for directions to the airport. Some people just have a gaze that knocks you flat.

Ichijo snaps him out of his brief surprise by clapping him gently on the shoulder. “I was going to introduce him, but he beat me to it. Godai, this is Hikawa Makoto, he’s a colleague of mine.”

“I’ve heard about you.” The hundred-watt smile again. “Ichijo thinks pretty highly of you, it’s great to get a chance to say hello.” He glances past Makoto’s shoulder.

“Right, ah. Ichijo, Godai, this is my friend Tsugami Shouichi, he runs Restaurant Agito over in--”

Godai brightens more, if such a thing is possible. “Agito? I’ve heard of there, I’ve been meaning to try it for a while but I just never seem to have the time. It’s your restaurant?”

Shouichi grins at him. “Yeah, for a few years now. You should come there sometime, since you’re friends of Makoto’s I’ll cook you something special.”

They all sit down at the table, and within a few minutes Shouichi and Godai are deep into a heated discussion about gardening techniques, of all things. Lost, Makoto glances across the table and catches Ichijo’s eye, and Ichijo flashes him a brief smile. “And until five minutes ago I didn’t realize that Godai knew how to garden. I should have guessed, of course. He knows how to do most things.”

Then he looks back at Godai, and there’s an expression that crosses his face, and it hits Makoto hard, that this is Ichijo looking at someone he’s in love with.

He wonders if Godai knows.

He hopes so, really, anyone who’s got Ichijo’s attention like that must be something special.

And Godai and Shouichi are talking about cooking now, and having an entirely different friendly disagreement about seasoning blends, and Godai turns to Makoto and says, “So do you cook, Hikawa? Because Kaoru doesn’t much, and someone’s going to have to settle this.”

“Oh, uh. I’m all right as a cook. I don’t actually cook much, though, I don’t think I can settle anything for you.”

Shouichi leans in a bit to say, in a loud stage whisper, “He’s good with tofu.”

Makoto groans. “Please don’t bring up the tofu.”

“I’m sensing that there’s a story behind this.” Ichijo turns to flag down a server as he’s speaking. “Please, bring up the tofu.”

Makoto covers his face with his hands. “Shouichi’s going to tell you every embarrassing thing he knows about me now, I can sense it.”

“Don’t worry too much.” Godai elbows Ichijo lightly. “I’ll keep it even by telling you embarrassing things about Kaoru.”

Ichijo’s eyes go wide. “You wouldn’t.”

Fortunately, this is when the server reaches them, and for another couple of minutes they all devolve into good-natured bickering as they order drinks and ask for recommendations about what meats are best today. Of course, they’ve all got favorites, and none of them are the same, so the server takes just the drink order with a promise to help settle things when she returns.

And--something odd happens.

They’re looking at the menu, talking over the different platters available, and Shouichi says, “Actually, look, you know, the number four selection looks good, we can always add stuff to it.”

Godai flinches.

It’s very slightly, almost imperceptible. Just a twitch, a flicker. And then it’s gone, and Godai is nodding and saying, “Maybe that and then the pork belly and--are those garlic mushrooms? Are they good here?”

Makoto’s known people in the past who got superstitious about the number four, but somehow he doesn’t think that’s it. He doesn’t want to ask, though, and risk disrupting their nice time. So he just says, “Yeah, those are newer on the menu, but they’re really delicious.”

The flinch stays with him, itching at the back of his mind. Something about it reminds him of...he’s not sure what.

The server returns with their drinks and takes their dinner order. Godai and Shouichi resume their seasoning argument, which somehow transitions seamlessly into a discussion of coffee-brewing. Ichijo, when he isn’t talking, continues to watch Godai like he’s the only person in the world.

“I feel like Tsugami and I might be dominating the conversation,” Godai says brightly after a bit. “So, Hikawa, are you allowed to talk about what you and Kaoru are working on? I would’ve gotten the story from him, but I only got back to Japan two days ago, haven’t had the time yet.”

“Oh, uh. We’re consulting in the new stage of an ongoing project.”

“Trying to convince the brass that the solution to their problems isn’t always to build a bigger gun.” Ichijo sighs. “Speaking of that, Hikawa, how’s your shoulder with the wet weather we’ve been having?”

“It aches, but at least it’s not seizing up. I was the bigger gun once,” Makoto says to Godai, who looks a little thrown by the segue. “In the, uh, Unknown situation, a few years ago. Or at least I wore it, I was G3′s equipper. I’m on this project now because I have hands-on experience with, um. Unusual situations.”

“That’s how we met,” Shouichi says unexpectedly next to him, “the Unknown thing. Makoto was interviewing a friend of mine about part of it.”

“Oh, I see. I was, ah, out of the country when that was going on,” and for some reason Ichijo reaches over and squeezes Godai’s hand as Godai continues talking. “I didn’t hear too much about it. What was G3?”

“It was--” Makoto scratches the back of his head, flips his piece of skirt steak on the grill. “Well, this might sound odd, but it was a sort of robot suit for fighting monsters? It was based on--”

Number Four. It was based on Unidentified Life Form Number Four.

The tiny flinch from earlier clicks into place with the vague knowledge Makoto has of Ichijo’s past work, Ichijo’s hand on Godai’s, “I was out of the country.”

I’m sitting across the table from Number Four.

The minuscule flinch replays itself in his mind again and again, and even as he’s suppressing the urge to jump up and shout he also changes tack. “--the designs of a friend of mine, Professor Ozawa, maybe you’ve heard of her? She actually won a fairly major engineering award a few years ago.”

His eyes meet Ichijo’s across the grill for a moment, and what he sees is alarm fading into clear, profound relief. They can’t nod at each other, not right now, not about this, but Makoto’s fairly sure he knows what Ichijo is thinking.

Fortunately--or maybe it’s not just fortune, maybe it’s intentional--Shouichi chooses this moment to say, cheerfully, “You know, this is making me realize that I never did tell you guys the tofu story.”

“Oh no.” Makoto groans. “Please. Please don’t.”

Ichijo actually laughs. Godai says, “Now I think he has to.”

--

By the time they finish dinner it’s late, and the street outside the restaurant is empty and quiet. It feels solemn. Good-byes are also quiet, friendly, Godai extracting a promise that they’ll all meet up again sometime soon before the group splits in two to go their separate ways.

Makoto turns back to look right before he sits down to drive, and in the dim streetlights he catches a glimpse of Godai leaning over from the passenger’s seat of Ichijo’s car, their mouths meeting in the shadows for a moment, and relief washes over him as he thinks, Good for them.

At home, he and Shouichi dance sleepily around each other as they change clothes, brush their teeth, try to decide whether to maybe watch something and then realize that they’re both too tired for it. They fall into bed, Shouichi curls up against his side, and it’s just as perfect as it always is.

Except that Makoto can’t sleep. Instead he stares at the bedroom ceiling, thinking about Shouichi, about Godai, about the other people he’s met with eyes like earthquakes. What have their lives been like? Did they, too, save humanity from things that no one remembers or will ever thank them for?

He glances down at Shouichi, expecting to find him asleep, and instead is, as usual, knocked down by a thoughtful, focused gaze. “What are you thinking about, Makoto?”

He shrugs. “I was thinking about Godai, mostly.”

Shouichi pouts comically in the dim light of the bedroom. “You’re not allowed to get a crush on your senior’s boyfriend.”

“I--no.” He can feel himself blushing. “No, that’s, that’s not it. He just...seems like someone who’s had an interesting life.” Maybe they can talk about Number Four tomorrow, or maybe they won’t talk about it ever.

“And?”

“And what?”

“There’s an and, I can tell.”

“Well...” Makoto sighs. “Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I hadn’t met you.”

Shouichi curls in closer. “I wonder the same thing about you. I think I’d be a very different person. I think I’d probably be pretty unhappy.”

“So I was thinking about that, and about Godai.”

“And?”

Makoto stares at the ceiling and wraps his arm around Shouichi’s shoulders and wonders how long it took Godai to be able to smile like that, after everything Number Four had to do. “I’m glad he has someone who loves him.”