#got two ornaments working and just need to figure out which was the other one that needed batteries

[jedi-bird]

The market had the exact batteries I needed to get my ornament working, so now it sings "I Want a Hippocampus For Christmas" every time I push the button.

[notsowrites]

where every wish comes true

Summary: Alex wants everything to be perfect for his first Christmas with Michael.

A/N: my humble contribution to this year's @rnm-secret-santa for @dr-lemurr

[read it on AO3]

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Because the holidays have never been a big deal to Alex, he has a basic amount of Christmas decorations - a wreath for the front door, a fake tree that he usually puts up in front of the window in the study, and enough ornaments and decorations to make the tree look festive. It's basically the extent to which he feels is enough “holiday cheer.” He and Maria exchange gifts - a tradition between the two of them since they were kids. Even when he was overseas during the holidays, he'd always make sure she got sent something he knew she wanted but couldn't justify the expense for herself. Since he understood that money was difficult for her, particularly given Mimi’s medical bills. 

But in all their years together, their on and off again relationship with no discernible beginning or end points, Alex realizes that he and Michael have never shared the holiday together in any way.

And of course, everything is different now. Never before have they been in a committed relationship like this, one that others around them know about, and one where Alex feels like he can be public about his feelings for Michael. The pendant of alien glass around his neck, laying against his chest, feels like a promise that Alex intends to make good on one day.

The first problem he encounters this year, however, is where to put the tree. Typically he just rearranges the study, moving the couch from under the windows to against the wall, and putting the tree there instead. It's only temporary, and it makes the house feel a tiny bit more festive.

But when he drags the box out of the storage, and stands in the open doorway to the study, Alex realizes he doesn't want to keep the tree out of the way this year.

Wanting is something he's teaching himself is okay - he's allowed to be selfish. He's allowed to do things and desire things simply because they make him happy. And right now, he wants to put the Christmas tree in the living room, because he wants to be able to cuddle with Michael on the couch, with the fireplace going, and really see if all that fuss about coziness is actually true. There's simply never been the opportunity before where it was possible, and now that it is, Alex finds he wants to experience it for himself.

“There's nowhere to put it,” he whines to Maria on the phone, standing in the middle of the living room, surveying the furniture.

“And the study is not an option?”

Alex sighs, glancing down the hallway, the reasons floating through his mind. “No.”

“So we just need to figure out a different spot for you,” Maria replies, sounding much more confident than Alex feels. There's another voice in the background, and Alex can just make out Maria explaining his dilemma, realizing after a moment that she’s speaking to Rosa.

“Is that Rosa? I can call back-”

“She says you're overthinking it,” Maria pushes on, ignoring him. “And I agree with her.”

“Great,” he grumbles, falling down on the sofa and staring up at the ceiling. 

Overthinking is something that he knows he does on occasion, especially in regards to Michael. Because Alex can’t think of any time in his professional life - a decade in the Air Force, including officer school and two completed tours - where he’s had the same doubts and worries. Things just always seemed easier when he can fall back on facts and logic.

And Michael, well. Alex knows his feelings for Michael are sometimes anything but logical.

“What about in that space next to the dining table?” Maria asks, pulling him out of his thoughts. 

Alex glances over where there’s a potted plant in the corner near the doors that lead out to the patio; the decor in the wall alcoves; and the guitar he has leaning in the corner near his bedroom doorway. It might work, he thinks, but it’d be a tight fit. And he doesn’t really want the tree to be sticking out awkwardly, especially if he’s putting it somewhere he might trip over coming out of the bedroom.

“No, I don’t think so.”

There’s a bit of shuffling on the other end of the line, and then Alex hears Rosa loud and clear, realizing he’s been put on speaker.

“What about in that corner? Next to the sofa?”

Alex twists to look to his right where the end table is currently placed. It’s a large enough space in the corner if he moves the table and the plant - but isn’t the point of this to be able to see the tree while sitting on the couch? It really would just look like it was shoved into the only available spot between the couch and his keyboard bench.

“The couch would be in the way.”

Rosa sighs, rather loudly, and says something that Alex can’t quite make out, probably meant only for Maria anyway. While he listens to them chatter amongst themselves, he wonders about next to the fireplace, but figures there probably isn’t enough room and the tree would cover part of the TV - and it’d definitely make it harder to get to the record player. 

“Are you up for moving some furniture?” Rosa asks after a moment. “Because I think I have an idea, if I remember your house correctly, and Maria says I am.”

Not letting himself get too hopeful, Alex nods his head as if she can see him. “Yeah, if it’ll make this whole thing work.”

“Move your keyboard bench.”

For a moment, Alex wants to argue and ask where he’s going to put his music set-up in the meantime, but the answer is obvious. If he moves the keyboard, and his audio equipment into the study, they can go against the wall where he typically puts the couch when the tree is in there. It feels like such a simple solution, he’s annoyed at himself for not thinking of it. 

“You two are geniuses,” he replies quickly, pushing himself up off the sofa. “Love you both, but I gotta go.”

He hears the two of them giggling on the other end, and ends the call. 

None of the furniture he needs to move is actually heavy, thankfully. And he hopes he can get it done before Michael gets home - because he’d like to be able to at least have the tree up. First, he gets the bench - it’s the smallest and lightest part. Then all of the smaller items - the guitars, the sound mixing equipment, the speakers, and finally - the keyboard itself. The table, however, presents its own dilemma. It’s a little too big, and a little too awkward in size for him to lift all on his own.

Alex falls back onto the sofa, frustrated with himself and his own limitations, when he hears the front door open, close, followed then by the familiar sound of Michael’s boots on the floor.

“Rearranging?” Michael asks, and Alex turns slowly to look over at him, noticing the way he’s taking in the emptiness of the space where his instrument set up used to be.

“Trying.”

Michael nods his head, glancing around the living room and dining room, as if looking for something. “Where’d the rest of it go?”

“In the study.” 

He watches as Michael disappears out of view, his footsteps receding down the hallway, and then back towards him, as if Michael had needed to see for himself where the missing equipment had gone. 

“So we just need to move the table?” Michael finally asks, sitting down on the coffee table and sliding over until he’s across from Alex, reaching out and taking his hands in his, letting their fingers slide together. “Any particular reason for this change? You seemed pretty settled in how you had the house set up.”

Alex lifts his left hand, along with Michael’s, and motions vaguely towards the box with the Christmas tree that’s on the floor next to the dining table.

“I thought - I think it'd be nice to be able to enjoy the tree out here.” Alex doesn't know why his own reasoning feels dumb - it's his own home. A house he bought with his own money and has worked to furnish how he wants. “Since it's our first Christmas together.”

Slowly, a smile spreads across Michael's face, as he gently tugs Alex's hands towards him. Alex goes, letting himself be pulled forward until Michael is pressing their lips together - once, twice, three times. The smile never leaving his face, either.

Alex pulls one hand out of Michael's grasp, reaching out to slide it up along Michael's chest to cup his face, letting the tips of his fingers slide into the curls at the back of Michael's neck. His hair is longer - obviously in need of a trim, but Alex likes something about it like this as well. 

Especially when it means watching that one stubborn curl fall over Michael's eyes as he works. Or as he cooks. Or even as he's just talking while they're sitting on the patio chairs outside, Michael telling him about the dreams he had as a child, searching for home in the night sky.

“So where’d you put it last year?”

“Uh, the study,” he replies with a sigh, still frustrated with himself. “Christmas was never a big affair growing up. And here I just - I never saw much reason to go all out on decorating.”

Michael’s eyes go soft, and Alex feels a little less like an idiot for admitting something like this. 

“Max and Isobel always tried - especially when we were kids,” Michael says, his attention drifting back down to their hands, letting his fingers drift lightly across the skin. “Think they wanted to make sure I felt included. Never really got a real Christmas otherwise.”

Alex’s heart breaks for the childhood Michael should have been able to have growing up. That he’d been left to fend for himself so often in ways that no child should have had to do.

“That’s why I wanted to tree in here,” Alex tries again, gently tugging at Michael’s hands, pulling him towards where he’s sitting on the couch. He smiles at the easy way Michael moves, first pinning him against the back as their lips meet, sliding onto his lap and dropping his hands. Michael’s hands slide up to cup his face, kissing him over and over again as Alex drops his hands to his thighs. He doesn’t stop his hips from bucking up against Michael.

“Good thing for you,” Michael says after a moment, pulling away and Alex feels his hands drop down flat against his chest as he looks up to see a familiar smirk, “that your boyfriend is an alien who can move things with his mind.”

It’s always fascinating for Alex to watch Michael use his abilities, watching as the table slowly glides across the floor of the living room, freeing up the empty space in front of the bay window. 

Between the two of them, they carefully get the table moved into the study, and set everything to rights with his equipment, which seems to calm the remaining nerves Alex had about everything. 

Getting the tree together is easiest, the two of them laughing as they try and fluff the branches out enough to make it look somewhat like a tree before decorating it in the small collection of ornaments Alex has purchased and collected through the last several years. He sits on the coffee table to sort through the containers, Michael choosing to be the one to hang them up, taking any leads Alex chooses to give him about placement. 

And it’s then, as he watches Michael place the silver star at the top, that it hits Alex just how right all of this actually feels. How perhaps this is what has been missing for the holiday to feel like it’s more than just a date on the calendar. That perhaps next year they’ll be doing this not as boyfriends, but as husbands instead.

Husbands, Alex repeats to himself. Because he’d asked Michael to marry him, and Michael had said yes.

He watches as Michael effortlessly gets a fire going in the fireplace, fascinated by the way the flames burst from his hand, the logs lighting with minimal effort. 

“Is that why you run hot?” Alex can’t help but ask, raising an eyebrow at Michael and nodding at the fireplace. He knows enough about the alien’s biology to know the elevated temperature the alien’s have is related to their species, but it feels like a good moment to joke. He knows he’s tried in the past to make a similar remark in the past, but the timing hadn’t been right, and it hadn’t landed how he’d intended.

This time, however, he watches as a smile spreads across Michael’s face, his eyes lighting up in amusement. 

They settle onto the sofa, fingers laced together, Alex pushed into Michael’s side as they both take in the quiet moment around them. 

“What did you used to do for Christmas?” Michael asks, his voice quiet next to Alex. “Since coming back here?”

“Spend time with Maria and Mimi,” he replies, turning to look at Michael, noticing the way he’s focused on him, eyes bright and golden in the warm haze of the firelight. “Maria called me a grinch the first year I got back because I didn’t decorate.”

“But not this year.”

Alex shakes his head, leaning up to press a kiss to Michael’s lips. 

“No, not this year.”

[footballffbarbiex]

player: Mats Hummels words: 1k+ request: Mats Hummels - no pref - 250 - 500 - Them decorating the tree together and she gifts him a new bauble (they have a collection of silly and memorable ones) to tell him they’re gonna have a baby

A/N: ... so this is why it's taking so long for me to write these. I can't abide by the word limit.

A/N 2: in my haste to get this posted, I (wrongly) forgot to thank @percervall for helping when I was getting inside my own head and couldn't think straight.

“I didn’t realise ornaments held so much until you.” Mats says from his sprawled out position on the floor. He’s not a grinch, but he’s not the first one banging down the door to get a tree up and decorated. That being said, he does enjoy seeing the result and though he tries to deny it, he revels in watching her getting excited about the small things. 

“They just capture a moment or two in your life.” she says, holding one in her hands while she scans the tree for the perfect place. She wouldn’t say she had a need for things to be perfect but Mats absolutely would and he takes every opportunity to move some around when she’s annoyed him, just to watch her staring at the tree for far longer than needed trying to work out why it no longer looks right. 

Some have been passed down through generations and obviously hold sentiment to her, some are funny little ones that either Mats himself had picked up or they’d both purchased together once he learnt of her love for decorations, some just simply looked good. Some, like the ones they’ve been looking at today, are from key moments. Like their first christmas together and she’d brought her favourite one to his to put on it to cement her place in his home. Or one that they’d purchased together when they moved into their new home. There’s even a new one today to symbolise his man of the match award, a small tree trinket that she’d picked up as a joke but he had to chuckle when he saw it. 

But that’s not the only new thing for the tree that she’d bought for him. And nerves are building in her belly as the thought of it creeps back in once more. She knows if she doesn’t get it under control, she’s going to go to pieces and the announcement is ruined. She’s wondered how to do this for far too long and figured that since they were now making this a tradition where the two of them both put a bauble on each, that this would be his main bauble to hang. She hasn’t seen him eye any up yet which makes this even better for her to be able to pass him the one she needs him to look at. 

“I think I’ve left my drink in the kitchen, do you mind going to get it for me?” She asks as she places her bauble on the tree. Her hand moves to her stomach, a move that has become so instinctive since she’d see the pregnancy confirmation on the pregnancy test(s) that she’d taken, but also to try and physically settle herself. She’s kept this to herself for a few weeks while she tries to work out what she wants to do and weighing up how he’ll react to the news and now that the time is here, she realises it’s probably the waiting to tell him that’s got her into this anxious state. 

He grumbles as he gets up but he does as she asks. The moment he’s out of the room and she hears him moving away, she goes to where she’s hidden the surprise, retrieves it and puts it in with the other decorations. She needs to remain calm but she heard the way her voice crumbled a little when she asked that question. Mats, for all his dumbass-ery, was quite smart and he knew her better than she liked to admit. It wouldn’t take much more voice wavering for him to figure out something was wrong. 

“I gave it a little sip,” he declares as he walks back into the room. “Had to make sure it was still warm,” he justifies when he catches her expression. She lets him off the hook, but only because of her nerves. 

“Thanks.” she takes a little sip herself once it’s in her hands and she throws a look in the direction of the decorations. “Can you pass me the white one over there please? I’m trying to think where to put it.” She says as nonchalantly as possible. 

She keeps her back to Mats as she hears him rummaging through the packaging until he picks one out. “This one? With the black writing that says…” Mats trails off as he reads it to himself. She wants to turn to look at him, to see what his initial reaction is but she also can’t stand to see if it’s a reaction that’s less than happy. “Baby Hummels coming summer 2024” he repeats, his voice taking a tone that she’s never heard before. 

It’s only now that she turns, eyes raking over him to see his body language. He’s standing there with it in his hands, unable to look away from it, fingers gently stroking over the words written in acrylic pen. She wants to disturb him, wants to ask what his thoughts are but she knows oh too well what it felt like to see those two lines on the test. This was his test. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“How sure?” Only now does he look at her face. 

“Quite sure. I took five that first day and I’ve taken two weekly ones since.”

“You’ve known for two weeks?” He asks quietly. 

“I needed to get to 6 weeks for it to be classed as a pregnancy. Anything before then is…”

“Right.” Mats nods and looks back at the bauble.

“Are you ok with that?” she nervously asks. 

“We both agreed for you to come off your pill months ago. Yeah, I think I’m ok with it,” he grins and pulls her into a hug. “Our last Christmas as a two. Hey there, Mama.”

And even though it’s a name that she’s thrown around to herself, saying it softly as she’s stroked over her stomach which, thanks to the increase in hormones, has made her lower belly a little more bloated and giving her a false belief that this is her bump.

“Hey there daddy.”

_

It's worth noting here that week 12 is generally considered the safe week for pregnancies, the week where you can tell people because the rates in which you can miscarry drop with each week.

Week 24 means that your baby has a chance of survival should they be born early.

However, in order for your pregnancy to be classed as a pregnancy, you need to get to week 6. I know this first hand. This is when they can perform an ultrasound scan.

So while it may seem in the fic that she means week 6 is the "safe" week, it just means that she can now be classed as pregnant from a medical perspective.

[realmermaid333]

can you write a wyler fic where tyler and wednesday spend the holidays together? like tyler trying to introduce her to traditional christmas stuff like baking cookies etc and them being all cute skfjkswkjfhd

it is no longer christmas lol, but here you have it!

Wednesday has never been too fond of holidays— or at least not the way most people celebrate them. She hates Christmas music and “Christmas cheer”, but she did thoroughly enjoy her first doll guillotine she received one year, and her first grave digging kit. 

She has fond memories of setting the fireplace ablaze with Pugsley to keep Santa away, and of pouring water from the second story on carollers who rang the doorbell one too many times. 

But this year will be different, Wednesday is spending Christmas in Jericho with Tyler. Most Nevermore students went home for the holidays, but Wednesday elected to stay at school. She didn’t feel like sitting through the long drive home, and she figured she could use this break for quiet time to work on her novel and catch up on reading. 

And— although she didn’t admit it to Enid or her parents— she hoped she could spend some alone time with Tyler— which was something they oh so rarely got. 

“You might want to prepare yourself, Wednesday. There’s colorful Christmas lights and shiny ornaments past this door,” Tyler jokes as he unlocks his front door. 

She cringes a little, and when he swings the door open she grimaces at the ghastly sight. His living room has a tree decorated with metallic trinkets and strings of light, there is a soft, red cloth adorning the bottom of it— which Wednesday kind of likes because it resembles a pool of blood. Above the fireplace are two big socks, one green and one red, and the kitchen counter has baking supplies and what looks like bright food coloring and sprinkles set atop of it. 

He started laughing at her expression of disgust— she just silently glared at him. 

“It’s terrible. But I like it,” she said.  

She didn’t like it that much, but she also didn’t want to insult Tyler’s house— and she loves it when Tyler tortures her with colors and cheesiness. 

He grabbed her hand and dragged her to the counter, “We are making sugar cookies,” he declared. 

She eyed the rainbow of food decorations on the counter and raised her eyebrows at him.

“I promise you it is fun! You don’t have to eat them if you don’t want to but you’ve gotta at least get the experience.” 

Wednesday could see he was excited, he laid out all of these ingredients just for them to bake. And he was nearly bouncing on his feet, begging her to do it— it was adorable. 

“Okay.”

“Yes!” He pumped his fist in excitement. 

Tyler showed her the recipe and they got down to business— not long after, the two of them got in a small tiff over him not being exact enough with his measurements.

“You can’t just carelessly scoop the flour like that, you need to level it with a knife.”

“Does it really matter?” He rolled his eyes.

“Yes, it does.”

They went with the tree cookie cutter because it was the one Wednesday hated the least. While Tyler’s trees were the standard green, Wednesday made her tree frosting black— you could easily tell who decorated which cookies. 

Unexpectedly, Tyler rubbed a dollop of frosting on Wednesday’s nose— and to his delight and her horror— she scoffed, then grinned at him. Frustrated that he managed to make her laugh, she rubbed frosting on his cheek in revenge. 

“Okay! Okay! Truce!” He screeched before the frosting battle became too messy. 

She swiped the black frosting off his cheek with her finger and ate it. He smirked, then cupped her face in his hands and licked the green dollop off of her nose. Wednesday scrunched her face up as Tyler laughed at her reaction, frosting on his lips and chin. She grabbed his face and licked the residue she didn’t get with her finger off his cheek. Tyler giggled, and even Wednesday chuckled. 

They paused, looking into each other's eyes. “Your face is stained,” she murmured up at him. 

“Is it?”

“Yeah,” she leaned in and pressed her lips onto his. She could taste the sweet frosting on his mouth— and although she didn’t particularly like sugary things, he tasted good. 

Maybe Christmas isn’t so bad afterall.

[woah-were-halfway-there]

Yes write that blurb!!!🥹😍😍

Hehehe can do. (Also i made this gif so don’t come at me for not crediting)

Word Count: 1.1k

“Oh, wait,” Carson pondered for a second as she stood in the middle of the living room, one hand on her hip, the other touching her face as she glanced around in thought. “Maybe the tree will look better over there.”

“Carse, I’ve moved this box three times. Please make up your mind, babe.” Auston groaned as he stood up straight and looked over at his wife.

It was December 1st, just a regular Thursday to everyone else and an off day for Auston, but to Carson, it was so much more important than that. Why? Because it was the day, the Matthews family was decorating for Christmas.

Since moving out of the condo and into their new house in Toronto, Carson was overwhelmed and excited by the space she had to decorate. To make it all more exciting, it was also Mia’s first holiday season which had Carson wanting to make it even more special.

However, she didn’t expect to be so stressed out.

The rest of the house was basically decorated. Carson made sure to buy festive decor around the house's main floor, including garland, glass jars filled with ornaments, lights and an unnecessary amount of Christmas-scented candles. She’d already offered to host at least two Christmas gatherings, not including when some of the family would stay with them later in the month.

There was a lot on Carson’s plate with all the planning she had to do, but even that wasn’t as bad as the dread she felt when it came to making everything look perfect.

“Ok, but what if we set it up in that corner, and it doesn’t look good?” Carson asked, a slight pout on her lips as she looked at her husband.

“I think it’ll look great in either corner,” Auston tried to reason.

“Well, Mia might want it in a different corner entirely.”

“I’m sure Mia doesn’t care where the tree gets set up, Carson,” he told her and nodded toward their 10-month-old, who was busy trying to climb into a box of ornaments. “She seems occupied.”

“Oh, Mia,” Carson reacted as she moved from her spot to go over and pick up their daughter. “You can’t go in there, little miss.”

Mia started giggling as Carson peppered her with kisses, and as soon as she was set back on the ground, didn’t waste any time crawling over to where Frank lay in front of the electric fireplace.

Carson watched Mia with a small smile, and Auston observed them both for a moment, his heart swelling with adoration. He didn’t want to ruin the moment, but he knew that he and Carson needed to figure out the tree situation before Mia got into something she wasn’t supposed to.

“What about this corner here,” Auston spoke up as he moved to said corner. “It won’t block the window seat, and you can still see it from outside. It’s away from the doorway into here, so Frank won’t be running into it all the time, and because it’ll be against the same wall as the TV and fireplace, we’ll still have a perfect view of it from the couch.”

“I guess that could work,” Carson responded, but clearly still thinking. “I just don’t want to get it all set up and regret putting it there.”

“You’re really putting a lot of thought into this.”

“I just want it to be perfect, Auston. Is you not stressing me out even more about it too much to ask?”

Auston blinked in surprise, not expecting that reaction from the woman standing across from him, and even Carson seemed surprised by her outburst.

“I-I’m sorry,” she apologized immediately and looked away from Auston, trying to blink back the tears she could feel forming as she fiddled with the sleeves of her hoodie. “I didn’t mean to snap.”

“Hey, it’s ok,” Auston assured her and wasted no time moving from where he stood so he could go over to Carson. Once he was beside her, Auston pulled her into his embrace, and Carson immediately wrapped her arms around him and leaned against his chest. “You wanna tell me what’s going on? I know there’s no way the location of our Christmas tree has got you this upset.”

“You know me well,” Carson chuckled and shook her head before sighing. “I’ve just been thinking about my mom a lot lately. She loved Christmas and always made it so special for Mya, Nate and me. It was magical, and I want to do the same for Mia. Obviously, I know she will not remember her first Christmas, but I will.”

Auston couldn’t help the smile that grew as he listened before moving to place a kiss on top of Carson’s head.

“I love you,” he mumbled against her hair. “Mia’s first Christmas is going to be amazing. I won’t question what you want to do anymore. When we moved in here, I promised you could be the interior decorator, which applies to holidays.”

“Even though I go overboard?” Carson asked as she moved away from Auston’s chest to look up at him.

“Yes, I think it’s cute.”

At that, Carson smiled and then stood on her tiptoes so she could peck his lips. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” Auston reminded her. “Now, about this damn tree.”

“I think you might be onto something by putting it in the corner by the window,” Carson chuckled as she stepped away from Auston and over to the corner he was standing in a few minutes prior. “It’ll cover some of the bookshelf, but I can live with that.”

“You say like these aren’t all books you’ve read and that you don’t have more all around the house.”

“And what about it?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Auston responded, smiling and holding his hands up in surrender. “Alright, so the tree goes in that corner. Final answer?”

“Yes, I think it’ll look great there,” Carson answered.

“Perfect,” Auston said before pushing the box toward the area. “Now that’s decided, we can finally start setting it up.”

“And fluffing, which I know you love so much.”

“Right… the best part.”

Carson laughed at Auston’s sarcasm before moving to lift the box of ornaments and lights over to where Auston started piecing the tree together, but before she could even look at the box, she was met by a thud a gasp and the sound of small items spilling out all over the floor.

Carson and Auston quickly looked to the source of the noise to find Mia sitting beside the now tipped-over box, surrounded by ornaments and looking at her parents in surprise. Soon, her shocked expression faded as she let out a happy squeal and grabbed an ornament by its string to swing around merrily.

Auston and Carson looked at each other again, trying not to laugh before Auston spoke.

“I don’t think Christmas decorating will ever be boring now that we have her to keep us entertained.”

[thiswasinevitableid]

Bowerbird (Indruck)

The runner up in the "mer culture" prompt poll was: A mer constructing an elaborate, colorful nest to impress a potential partner

A year ago, Duck helped several other mers fend off a Megacuda from Kepler. The year before that, he singlehandedly figured out that a small, invasive starfish was the reason kelp at the south end of the forest were dying.

After all that, building a nest should be a swim in the park. 

Turns out, it’s the most intimidating thing he’s ever done. 

Some mers make courtship nests every year, but Duck’s never felt the need to. If another mer caught his eye, he just asked them out. Then he met Indrid. Indrid, seer to the royal mer court, red eyed with a tail like the wings of a bat ray, aloof and more than a little intimidating when he swims down halls or through the streets. 

Duck figured their paths would only cross when he was called, as all tentacled mers are, to help out with matters of royal defense. Until he rounded a bend in the kelp forest one afternoon to find the seer feeding a small school of rays with a miserable expression. When Duck had stumbled through a too-formal greeting, Indrid had simply given him a tight smile. When Duck gently asked if he was okay, Indrid fins flapped as his face went blank for a moment. Then words came pouring out, describing a truly stressful morning at the palace and a confession that he has every intention of hiding in the forest for the rest of the day and possibly the rest of his life. 

Unsure of what else to do, Duck told him it sounded like he’d had a shitty day and asked if he wanted to come see a baby Neon Eel he knew the den of. Indrid was delighted, both by his offer and the eel itself. They’d passed until the end of Duck’s shift together, Indrid swimming behind him and asking questions about his work. 

When Duck was at the palace debriefing two days later, Indrid found him as soon as the meeting was done and asked if he’d like to take a swim in the royal gardens. Duck was more than happy to. 

Soon, Indrid was visiting Duck at least once a week in the forest, and it wasn’t long before they were meeting for dinner on Thursdays or spending a Sunday watching the (very slow) sea bunny migration. 

Duck can’t pinpoint the moment he fell in love. All he knows is that one day he glanced over at Indrid and realized he didn’t want to spend another day without him. 

But Indrid is a regal mer, a member of the court, which means if Duck wants to stand any chance of him being his mate, he has to go all-out. Which is why he’s read three books on nest building and asked everyone he knows for advice on how he should decorate it and what he should put in it. Barclay suggested gourmet food, Aubrey advised having some pizazz, and Minerva insisted he should make sure he used difficult to manipulate material to show how strong he is. 

In the end, he wrote down three key points for himself

-Make it pretty

-Make it perfect 

-Don’t fuck up.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Make it pretty” is the easiest step; he’s been inside Indrid’s room in the palace plenty of times, including a night where they got so engaged in a conversation about poisonous sea-plants they passed out on the floor, one of Indrids fins flopped over Duck’s chest. 

With two weeks until the Bower Festival, Duck starts his quest in the part of the kelp forest where mers allowed to harvest (with a permit). He collects seaweeds in deep magentas and swirling gold. He can probably make them into a garland or something. All the books keep saying garlands, ornaments, and “valuable items.”

Next he picks up some red tiger lotus and black lace flowers from the garden store, figuring he can keep them in their pots until it’s time to scatter them through the nest. 

His final stop of the day is collecting as much driftwood as he can find–sunken or on the nearby beach–and stacking it next to his house so he can figure out what to build with it. 

Since courtship nests are temporary–meant more as a demonstration of how you can provide for a partner and make a space for them in your life–he doesn’t have to build a structure that can withstand all seasons. He spends all his spare time the next two days building a tunnel with two side rooms, the nest ending right at his front door. 

Next up is furniture. Indrid favors chairs and couches that let him arrange himself in all kinds of ways; there’s a round, seashell pink bowl-chair of Duck’s that Indrid nestles into whenever he visits. And from how chaotic his room tends to be, Duck figures a lot of spaces to store things might be well received. Three intense days in his woodworking shed later, he has a small table and a love-seat ready to go, and even gets his friend Aubrey to enchant them to look shellacked in black pearl. 

He feels like he’s missing something, but before he can figure out what it is, it’s time for his evening swim with Indrid. A peek at the surface shows it free of humans, and so they settle on a rock that’s still warm from the sun. As they talk, Indrids attention keeps drifting back to the lights of the nearby boardwalk. 

“They have added something. Look.” He points to the arcade, whose front wall is covered in swirls of glowing, green paint, “it reminds me of those little, bioluminescent seastars.”

“You’re right. Heh, haven’t thought of those in ages. When Jane and I shared a room I put some on the ceiling so she wouldn’t be so scared of the dark.”

“Ever the thoughtful one.” Indrid smiles at him, then sighs, “I had them when I was very little. When I was first learning to cope with my powers, focusing on the glow helped me remain calm. I ought to get some for my rooms now but, alas, such things are not befitting a court seer.”

“Damn shame” Duck bumps their tails together and makes a mental note to go to the toy store. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Duck can’t lie–literally, he fucking sucks at it–: “make it perfect” is kicking his ass.

Every book on bowers says that they have to be to the most “elegant, eye-catching taste”, and show the other mer that you can give them everything they desire; sunken treasure, shark steaks, giant oyster chairs dipped in gold. Fucking nothing in the “buying guide” section is in his price range. And the stores are no better; everything in the courtship nest display is cookie-cutter fancy. 

Indrid spends so much of his day as Seer Cold, understood only as a powerful, aristocratic mer of great use to the town and kingdom. The last thing he needs is another person pretending to suck up to him with fancy shit he won’t use. 

The problem is, when Duck tries to think of what things Indrid would want him to buy, he can’t come up with anything. Would drawing supplies feel silly given the pricey ones he has to help with illustrating his visions? When they went to the spring festival, Indrid flapped his hands in delight when Duck won him a massive, stuffed, squishy flapjack octopus covered in moss so soft it might as well be sea otter fur. And he saw a cuttlefish shaped one that even changed colors when hugged….

No, he can’t be the guy who tries to win over the court seer with a fucking stuffed cephalopod. 

He chews on himself for the entire day until his dinner out with Aubrey, who lovingly pokes him with her tail and reminds him about Barclay’s suggestion of food. Grocery shopping is way less intimidating than trying to decide if Indrid would want pieces of eight woven with pearls to drape over his tail. 

After work the next day, he fills two baskets with Indrid’s favorites, and even sneaks up to the surface to call in a favor. As he’s unpacking the last of the drink options, the last voice he wants to hear comes from the front of the tunnel.

“Duck? Are you home?”

Fuck, there goes the element of surprise. 

He swims out to meet the seer, who is staring at the bower with an unreadable expression. Rather than swim over the threshold to where Duck is floating, he stays firmly outside of the nest. 

“I did not know you observed such traditions.”

“It, uh, it ain’t my usual style. But there’s someone who really caught my eye and I wanna do it up right for ‘em.” He smiles and forces all his tentacles to hold or rest onto something so they won’t fidget with nerves. 

“I see. Well, since the festival is tomorrow, I will not trouble you. I have been told it is a rather time-consuming process.”

“No kiddin’. But it’s worth it for the right person.” He winks, but Indrid isn’t looking at him. 

“I do not doubt it. I will be walking the festival with the rest of the court but, ah, if we do not see each other tomorrow I…I hope the one you adore adores you as well.”

He flashes a tight smile and then he’s gone, so quickly that he’s already out of sight before Duck realizes that wasn’t the conversation of someone who was on to his plan. 

Indrid doesn’t think this is for him. 

Fuck whatever the books say. Fuck whatever people might think Indrid Cold, royal seer, would want. 

This is Indrid, his Indrid, and he knows just how to show him he’s wanted. 

—---------------------------------------------------------------

Indrid used to love the Bower Festival. All the wonderful colors and creativity, the fact that many of the futures for the day are happy ones, and that all is required of his royal duties for the day is swimming about and smiling at the nests on display. 

Over the last few years, they felt more like someone was grinding sand into his gills. A reminder that there was a mer out there for everyone except, it seemed, him. 

Still, a duty is a duty, and he tries not to flap too glumly as he wanders a row of houses, admiring their decorations. 

The parrot fish with a message in its beak is a surprise, even though he sees it coming. More shocking is the invitation itself, to a bower he was certain was spoken for. 

The outside of Duck’s bower is simple on the outside, driftwood polished and accented with black, bronze, and green. Poking his head into the nest reveals his friend swimming between two rooms, tentacles a tad frazzled as they moved items about. 

“You wished to see me?”

“FUCK!” Duck spins, then blushes, “sorry, still ain’t used to how quiet you can be. Damn, that parrotfish was fast. Right, uh” He swims and then bows to Indrid, “Indrid Cold, will you give me the honor of showin you the nest I made for us?”

“Nothing would make me happier.” He waits until Duck has closed the seagrass curtain on the door, signaling no more visitors for the day.

When the nest goes dark, Duck takes his hand and points upward, “There’s the first thing I found. Lot’s of those little, glowin’ sea stars at the toy store.”

Indrid gasps, delighted to find the whole ceiling glowing a soft, soothing green. Then Duck pets his hand up bioluminescent kelp on each wall, revealing two sturdy, homemade shelves. One is lined with all Indrid’s favorite snacks; kelp crunches, spiced crab, coconut gems, so many delicious surprises his mouth waters as he eyes the rows. The other shelf sports rows of drinks, most from the agua fresca seller in the town square but several…

“These are all surface bottles! So many exotic flavors!” He picks up something claiming to be dew from the mountains. 

“And all sweet as can be, just like you. C’mon, lemme show you the rest.” They swim into the room on the right side of the hall. There’s a well-cushioned bench just the perfect size for two, and the whole room is strung with lights shaped like stingrays. On the small table sits a wonderfully fluffy stuffed cuttlefish, with a bouquet nestled in its arms and a small card reading “wanna cuddle?” 

Indrid picks up the gift, trilling happily as it changes from blue to purple with his touch. As he hugs it, he turns what he prays is a charming smile on Duck, “I hope you do not think this gets you out of winning me the softest prize at the next spring fair.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Duck shivers pleasingly as Indrid wraps a wing around his waist, “you ready to see the other room?”

“Very.” Indrid stays by his side as they cross the hall. In the second chamber is a chair surrounded by a curtain of gold and magenta seagrass. He cocks his head, uncertain of its purpose. 

“So, uh, the first room was for us as a couple. But I know how stressed you get from work, and how you can get overstimulated by stuff sometimes. I wanted to show you that you’d always have a space where you could be alone if you needed to, even if we lived together. I had Aubrey put a little spell on the grass so it’s sound dampening, and inside…” he holds the shimmering plants open to reveal a familiar, seashell shaped seat. 

His hands and fins both flap, “It’s my chair!!Oh and your robe” Indrid hurriedly swims through the curtain and settles on the cushion, swirling the deep green cloth over his shoulders, “how did you know?”

“Because every time you get real anxious you ask to borrow it.” Duck grins, “it’s been as good as yours since the first time I saw how goddamned cute you looked in it.”

Indrid purrs, holding the robe closer as he closes his eyes. He feels more at home in this little nest than he ever does at the palace. When the bower is taken down, he and Duck can simply move all the gifts inside. There’s a perfect spot in the spare room for this chair, and he cannot wait to curl up to Duck on their little loveseat in the kitchen.

He opens his eyes. The other mer waits patiently across from him, gaze darting between Indrid’s face and the ground. It’s so rare to see Duck nervous, and it’s flattering to know he inspires such a feeling in such a magnificent a mer. 

“Apologies, dearest, I got rather ahead of the moment and was already planning for tomorrow.” He swims away from the seat, circling Duck with both his fins and his arms, “I cannot believe you went to all this trouble for me. I was so certain another had caught your eye.”

“Nah” Duck tucks Indrid’s hair behind his ear, “I know you don’t always have an easy time seein’ yourself in the best light. I wanted to make damn sure I built a nest that showed you how I see you. That my life is so much richer when we’re together. And that if we have a home together, even when we’re not next to each other, knowin’ you feel safe and happy will be enough for me.” He takes Indrid’s hands, “well, sugar? Did it work?”

Indrid leans forward, kissing him gently on the lips before rubbing their cheeks together, “Beautifully.”

[museswithinx]

Random prompt: Ronnie and momma’s boy, Emmett, at any Christmastime in the timeline

The house was mostly empty today as Sidney was off with her adopt-o-cousins and Erin was having a little one-on-one daddy/daughter day with Eric. It was just her and Emmett with a few hours to themselves. It was rare she got her own one-on-one time with her babies so she was always grateful for these days when she could spend a little individual time with each.

“What cha’ reading there, little man?” Ronnie asks upon finding Emmett in the living room by the fire place. As he lifted the book to show her the cover, she smiled at his choice. “Ah, The Grinch. We know quite a few of those, don’t we?” She jokes, earning a little giggle from him. “That’s one of my favorites, you know. You can never go wrong with Dr. Seuss.”

As into the book as he was a moment ago though, he seemed to want her full attention now as he sat up eagerly to hear what plans she had for them today (and he knew she had them). “So the school is having a fun little Christmas fair today with arts and crafts and games and all that. I even heard that Santa might drop by. Would you like to go check it out?” His excitement was all the response she needed as she stood. “Alright. Go get your shoes and coat on. I’ll grab my keys.”

A short drive later, they were at McKinley Elementary. Heading to the gym with her son’s hand in hers, the entire place was decked out for the occasion with different craft and game areas set up throughout. 

“What do you want to do first?” She asks him before he starts tugging her toward one of the craft stations. The sign read “Christmas Candy Pots” and it allowed the kids to paint and decorate a small clay pot and fill it with whatever candy they desired. It was an adorable DIY gift idea. “Oh, how cute!” She exclaims before handing Emmett two pots, one for each of his sisters, and sitting with him at one of the tables set up. “So what are you thinking? Should we do a little reindeer pot for Erin and a snowman for Sidney?” 

As he nodded, Ronnie squeezed out some paint onto a paper plate for him and handed him a brush before doing the same for herself. The first one they worked on together was for Erin which was painted brown before she helped him glue two googly eyes, a red pom pom nose, and some pipe cleaners shaped to be antlers. She let him pick out which candies he wanted to fill it with for his twin sister before they moved onto Sidney’s snowman.

“They’re beautiful, sweetheart. Your sisters will absolutely love these!” She commended him as he proudly showed her the two finished products. “Lets get these all boxed up and wrapped and then we can figure out something for your daddy, yeah?” Getting some boxes and wrapping paper from the station attendant, she helped Emmett wrap each one before she put them in her bag for safe keeping and moved onto the next thing.

For Eric, her son decided he wanted to make him an ornament. More specifically a picture ornament because “daddy loves mommy” and he thought he’d like that best. “He’ll love that,” she agreed as she helped him put together a wreath ornament with red and green pom poms and some ribbon for the bow. For the center, she gave him a picture of her and Eric from their first Christmas together as a married couple to glue on. Once it was dried, she helped him box and wrap that as well.

The next few hours were spent like that. They decorated some sugar cookies together, they played pin the nose on the snowman and reindeer antler toss. He even made a few friends with some of the other kids there while playing a Christmas version of musical chairs. It was all smiles and laughs and there was no greater joy for Ronnie than seeing her children happy.

Ending the day on a high, Ronnie brought him over to meet Santa before they would leave. “Be sure to thank him after,” she told her son before giving him an encouraging pat forward as his turn came to sit on his lap. Emmett was so radiant with happiness as he gave Santa his list and hugged him before they snapped a photo and he received a small gift from the bag at Santa’s side. Smiling as her son returned to her, she took him by the hand again and gave Santa a little wave before they headed out to the car.

“Did you have fun?” She asked him as she got him all buckled in. He confirmed that he did and she smiled at that. Mission accomplished. “Here. You can open this one when we get home.” She told him as she gave him the gift from Santa to hold, which made him even happier if that were possible. 

Making doubly sure he was all strapped in, Ronnie closed the door and climbed into the front to start the car. “When we get home, I’ll make us some hot cocoa and we can finish out the day with a movie. How’s that sound?”

[lightwoodbanethings]

Following Henderdads 25 days of Steddiemas!

I'm not sure how many prompts I will do and some will be longer than others but I've started a series on A03 for them.

First Prompt: Hot Chocolate

Eddie hadn’t cried like this in a long time. He prided himself on not letting what other people thought about him affect him, not conforming just because society said so or because it made things easier. But tonight he found himself curled up in bed, silently sobbing into his duvet. Christmas was almost here and all he could think about was how unfair it was that he was here to celebrate but Chrissy wasn’t. Sweet Chrissy who, although she was Queen of Hawkins High, wouldn’t have harmed a fly. 

Chrissy loved Christmas, Eddie recalled seeing her dressed in her signature cheerleader uniform but with green and red scrunchies and tinsel in her hair. Smiling brightly and selling handmade ornaments and home baked goods during the Christmas fayre. Eddie had told himself he was going to go all out this year for Christmas, a holiday he usually didn’t pay too much mind to. Businesses used it as a marketing scheme to make money and he was just constantly reminded of how he didn’t have the ‘perfect family Christmas’. He and Wayne usually just ate a tv dinner whilst sat on the couch watching some rubbish on the tv. 

But this year was going to be different. He had his new friends…..family. Bonded through trauma which they told him meant he was stuck with them for life. He had Steve. In fact, he was supposed to be at Steve’s right now for a Christmas movie night with the rest of the gang. But it had all gotten too much and he just needed a moment to let out what he had been holding in all these months. Let himself think about her, let himself feel the pain. 

Eddie was starting to calm down when he heard a knock at the door and a gentle voice call his name, “Eds? Can I come in?”

Eddie mumbled a yes, hoping Steve would understand what he’d said. He heard the door opening and peered over the top of the duvet at his absolutely gorgeous and perfect boyfriend. 

“Wayne said you needed some alone time, I just figured I’d bring you some of my amazing hot chocolate and I can stay…if you want?”

Steve moved closer to the bed and put down two thermo’s of what Eddie assumed was the hot chocolate. Steve made amazing hot chocolate, said his mum taught him how to make it just right when he was younger. It was something he and his mum shared together, before she got caught up in following her unfaithful husband around the world. 

When he first shared it with Eddie, he had told Steve he didn’t want to overstep and take away from something that was special to him and his mum. But Steve had said that Eddie was special to him and that he wanted him to be a part of everything that meant something to him. 

Eddie shuffled up to make room for Steve and he immediately sat down next to him, after a bit of shuffling around the boys got comfortable. Steve half sat/half laid against the top of the bed and Eddie’s head resting on his chest. The sound of Steve’s heartbeat and the steady rise and fall of his chest helped calm Eddie more and even out his own breathing. 

“Thank you” he whispered, as he felt Steve wrap one arm around him and the other run through his hair and play with his curls.

“You’re welcome, Bambi.”

[the-dragonthief-passages]

18th of Last Seed, 4E 201

I left first thing in the morning for Riverwood. The trip only took me about 2 hours, and I headed into the Riverwood Trader for help finding Bleak Falls Barrow. As soon as I walked in, though, the shopkeeper Lucan Valerius was arguing with his sister Camilla. Some robbers broke into their shop and stole a golden ornament shaped like a claw. Coincidentally, they headed for same barrow I was heading, so I took up the need for help since it was on the way. Two birds, one stone!

In one last moment of spite towards him, Camilla offered to show me to the path leading up to the barrow. It was kind of hot, if I'm being honest. Pretty and witty are a deadly pair.

I headed up towards the barrow. There was a watchtower just outside of it. I tried to sneak up on the bandits in there, but they saw me a mile away. Of course, it wasn't hard to take them down. One of them even had a nice bow for me to take along.

The outside of the barrow was next. The bandits here were much easier. The watchtower bandits handling anyone who got close kept the other ones from doing any work, which made them lazy. Taking them down was barely even a challenge. Into the crypt we go.

This time, I was able to get a killing sneak attack on one of the bandits right past the entrance. The other took a little more effort, but nothing that wasn't manageable. They had a chest I picked open with ease as well. I headed further in from there. There was an outlaw heading into the next room, and the dumbass got himself killed by pulling a clearly trapped lever. Come on, you can't pull a lever in the middle of a room without looking around for traps.

It was a puzzle room. I had to match the emblems on the pillars to the ones on the wall above the gate. It was simple: snake, snake, whale. Pulled the lever and it opened right up. There was a nice little book called "Thief" that taught me a thing or two about picking pockets. That's what you get for not looking around, moron!

Heading further in, there was a surplus of spiderwebs. I could tell right away I was about to tangle with Frostbite Spiders. As I walked, I heard cries of help up ahead. One of the bandits, a Dunmer, got stuck in some thick webs. A massive Frostbite Spider dropped down from a hole in the ceiling before I could get to him, big enough that I actually used some fire magic to help me take it down. The Dunmer said he'd show me how the claw worked with the barrow if I cut him down, but I knew better. I burned down the webs, and I burned him when he started to run away. I grabbed his slightly singed journal from his body.

Apparently, the claw is actually a key to open the door in the Hall of Stories. This whole time, Lucan kept the key to an ancient Nordic crypt in his store as a conversation piece. I can't really blame him, I would also want to talk about a dragon claw made of solid gold if I saw one.

From here on out, it was nothing but Draugr. Some of them were easy enough to spot and shoot down before they could get up, others were more of a hassle. I took one of their swords and ditched my rusty old iron one. This place has plenty of loot.

Next part was the sanctum, which I felt would only get harder from here. I fought threw a few more Draugr before I finally arrived to what the Dunmer had called the Hall of Stories. There were carvings on the wall depicting various, likely godly, figures. Who knows what those stories were about.

At the end of the hall was a large door with a keyhole that seemed perfect for the golden claw. I noticed the animal carvings on the movable rings, then thought back to what his journal said: "when you have the golden claw, the solution is in the palm of your hands." I looked at the claw and realized that the solution was literally in the palm of the dragon's claw. The solution was bear, moth, owl.

I turned the rings on the door, put the claw in the keyhole, and turned. It worked. The door slid right down and I was back to my task.

The heart of the sanctum was beautiful. There was a large, ornate coffin surrounded by candles, light filtering in from the ceiling above, and a wall with a strange language written on it. I don't understand how or why, but when I approached the wall, one of the words started to glow and I heard chanting. It was almost like I was absorbing the word like a soul. I heard the word "Fus" in my head, which I somehow knew meant "force." What language was this, and why did I known it?

I didn't have long to think about it, however. As soon as the word stopped glowing, I was immediately attacked by the Draugr Overlord in the coffin I saw before. For some reason, he shouted something, and I felt a very strong wind knock me back. It took more of my strength than usual to take it down, letting it lay dead in the coffin it rose from. Lucky for me, it also had the Dragonstone, as well as a nice enchanted axe I would have to sell later.

I grabbed whatever I could find that seemed valuable, then left. I didn't want to be there any longer than I had to be.

I followed the river to get back to Riverwood. On the way, I found a cottage of an old hermit lady that gave me the feeling she was not what she seemed. I also found a dead bandit with his horse next to him, so I took it with me and rode it to Riverwood. As soon as I got back, I went straight to Lucan and gave him the claw. He said it was "smaller than he remembers," whatever that means. Either way, I got a nice sum of gold from him.

Now, I've settled down at Sleeping Giant Inn to rest for the night and have some food. There is no way I would get to Whiterun before late into the night. I can't wait to see the look on Farengar's face when I show him the tablet he wanted so badly.

[softguarnere]

The Freudian Slip (Part 1/2)

Part (1/2) - it's only a matter of time (for you to tell me)

Joseph Liebgott x reader

A/N: This has been in my drafts for like two weeks now, because I started it and then just . . . couldn't figure out where to go with it. Then I listened to 3 Nights by Dominic Fike, got obsessed with the lyrics, and finally finished it. (This is written for the fictional depiction from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!)

Warnings: depictions of war, blood, I think someone cusses once?

All around you, the earth seems to tremble from its very core as shells hit the ground, setting fire to trees like giant matches and causing your teeth to rattle in your skull. You can barely hear the sound of snow crunching under your boots over the noise of the explosions and your heavy breathing as you rush back through the line.

Finally, your eyes catch on the thing that they have been searching for among the chaos: a foxhole. Like a baseball player sliding into home, you push off the ground with one foot, drop your weight down onto your hip, and allow yourself to slide along the ground, shooting into the hole with ease -- safe . . . if you ignore the stinging in your thigh.

You close your eyes as the shelling continues, wincing, partly from the pain, and partly from the deafening sounds of German artillery. Foxholes are the safest place to be when under fire, but the trembling of the ground feels more intense when hiding in one. The shaking is a constant reminder that you are on the line. That you are in a war when you could be at home with your family, where there is actual food, and it's safe, and warm. Things which, you're becoming determined, never to take for granted again once you get home.

But home is a long way away. You squeeze your eyes shut even tighter at the thought, concentrating hard so that sleep won't take advantage of your closed eyes and creep in.

All at once, the shaking around you stops. Silence, just for a moment. Always the worst part. That heavy second that hangs there like a delicate glass Christmas ornament just before it can be shattered with cries of --

"Medic!"

Back to reality then. You open your eyes just in time to see Spina rushing past on the way to someone else's foxhole. It sends a shudder over you, to remember how you had been running between them a moment before, among all the heavy fire. You're usually so careful about staying in your foxhole, staying close to the line. Of course the one time that you had taken a chance had been the time that you almost didn't make it back.

The thought makes your mouth go dry. You almost hadn't made it. If you hadn't managed to make it into the first foxhole you found . . . Whose foxhole had you taken over, anyway?

"You." Your heart drops as you turn and came face to face with your foxhole buddy.

"Yeah," Liebgott agrees. "I could say the same thing."

It's not that you don't like Liebgott. It's just complicated.

Ever since Toccoa, the two of you have found yourselves pitted against each other. It had been so easy to befriend all the other men in the company, but something about Liebgott just got under your skin and aggravated you. Being around him was as comfortable as getting sand in your eye. He had made it pretty obvious that he felt the same way. Always teasing you, challenging you, pushing you to feel as if you had to compete against him, despite the fact that there was no need for petty competitions; there was a war going on, for Christ's sake.

Worse, as some of the only soldiers who spoke German, you're both constantly having to work together to help officers with translations -- a duty that you've managed to dodge a few times thanks to Webster. Ironic, how a lot of the others had found him annoying and pretentious, but how it was his absence that's actually making your life a little more difficult.

But somehow, through it all, the strangest thing had happened. When Liebgott had been hit in the neck in Holland, you found yourself worried about him. And with a mixture of shock and horror, you realized that your general annoyance towards him had somehow turned into feelings of affection without you realizing it. Your heart pounds when he enters a room. Your cheeks heat up. And not because you're ticked off with his presence, but because Liebgott, of all people, has suddenly been making butterflies jump around in your stomach. Too bad he doesn't reciprocate; he still sees you as just an annoyance, just someone to prove that he's better than.

You make up your mind then and there. "Well," you say with a curt nod. "I'll be seeing you."

"What? Where are you goin'?"

"Stay in your foxholes!" Lipton's voice commands just as you start to climb out of your cover. "They're trying to lure us out!"

A strong hand grabs the back of your uniform and tugs you back into the foxhole. Liebgott stares at you in disbelief. "You're not a medic."

"Yes, I'm aware of that."

He rolls his eyes. "Only medics should be riskin' their necks running around out there."

"Probably safer to risk my neck out there then in here."

Despite the already freezing temperature around you, the atmosphere in the foxhole turns even icier.

"The hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, come on, Liebgott," you huff. Wasn't it obvious? A frozen wasteland like this isn't the place to be keeping secrets or playing games. Which is why you can't risk somehow turning a matter of survival into a competition against your rival, or worse, having him find out about your secret feelings for him. Maybe Luz or Shifty need a foxhole buddy. You would rather take your chances with anyone else in the company.

When Liebgott is quiet -- for once -- you sigh. "You hate me."

He blinks. You've never seen him look shocked before. "I don't hate you, (Y/N)."

"Well, you certainly don't like me very much."

"I like you more than Dike or Peacock."

"That still doesn't put me very high on your list."

"No," he admits with his usual smirk. "But I guess we're stuck with each other."

Quiet falls over the foxhole. Snow crunches outside as medics run to men calling out for help. Running between foxholes hoping to find someone better to share cover with isn't worth it when the Germans are bound to start firing again at any second. With a sigh, you settle back against the hard, packed dirt while you wait for the all clear to leave.

It's going to be a long day.

-

"You're bleeding."

Your eyes snap open. When had they shut, anyway? They had been trained on the line, squinting against the snow as you watched for any sign of movement from the opposition. You must have fallen asleep, you realize with guilt.

"What?"

"You're bleeding," Liebgott repeats, gesturing toward your thigh.

When you reach down to the place where your leg has been stinging, it comes away red, warm, and sticky. A minor wound, really. Just a cut.

"Medic!" Liebgott yells before you can explain yourself.

"No, Lieb, I'm fine." With cold hands, you manage to reach into your pocket and produce the culprit: a pair of scissors that you've managed to scrounge up for Doc Roe. After days of carefully sticking to your foxhole, the very thing that you had put your life on the line to get had found a way to hurt you anyway. You almost laugh at the realization.

"The hell?" Liebgott asks when he sees the bloody scissors.

Snow crunches behind you, and then with a soft thump, Roe lands beside you in the foxhole.

"Oh, you found some scissors," he says in his thick accent. "Thank you very much, (Y/N)." The Cajun boy offers you a smile, but it freezes halfway across his face when he notices Liebgott on your other side. "Uh, were you callin' for a medic because you two are about to kill each other, and need me to clean up the mess, or - ?"

Liebgott scoffs. "I called for a medic because (Y/N) is getting blood all over my foxhole."

"I'm fine." You assure Roe. "I just need a bandage, is all."

"All right." A puff of warm air escapes the medic's lips as he reaches into a bag for some bandages. He's quiet the entire time that he patches you up, sending glances over your shoulder at Liebgott, who hovers, watching as Roe dresses the wound. He nods with approval when the bandage is tied off.

"Anything else?" When he is answered with shaking heads, Roe begins to climb out of the foxhole. "Okay then. Just try to keep warm, okay? Keep moving when you can." He squints down at you. "And (Y/N), maybe get some sleep."

Then, just as quickly as he'd appeared, he's gone.

"How are you supposed to keep moving and sleep?" Liebgott asks. He shoots you a sideways glance, like he's searching for something. "You do look tired though."

"Everyone is tired. There's no rest in this cold. Not when the Germans start firing on us every time we start to get comfortable."

Liebgott blinks.

"What?"

His helmet makes a scratching sound against the packed sides of the hole as he shakes his head. "The whole war, and I think this is the first time I've heard you sound pessimistic."

Surprisingly, his tone is nothing but that of an observer. He doesn't sound malicious at all, and he isn't snide in a way that is meant to get under your skin. But as tired as you are -- not to mention shaken from being caught out in the open -- his words hit a target that he probably doesn't even know is there. Exhaustion can overwhelm even the strongest and most willful of soldiers.

Your eyes sting. "Yeah, well, being stuck in a frozen hellhole with no sleep will do that to a person."

"Are you . . . crying?" He asks as you turn away from him, blinking back tears.

After days of almost no sleep, everything is suddenly so overwhelming that you can't be sure what emotion is causing it all. Frustration? Anger, maybe? Or even just sadness. There's no shame in feeling any of those things, or for crying, but if you had to cry, you would rather it be in front of anyone but Liebgott, who you had always had to be cool and determined in front of.

Oh God, the thought hits you straight in the stomach and sends a fresh wave of strong emotion over you. What if this is my breaking point?

"(Y/N)," Liebgott's voice is soft -- the only soft thing around, since even the snow is packed and hard with icy shards. "I didn't mean to make you cry." When you refuse to look at him, he nudges your arm with his. "Look, I'm sorry." Another pause. "Are you okay?"

"Are you?" You retort. Despite how tired and afraid you are, you can't resist the chance to turn this back on him. "Why are you so worried?"

He gives you a curious sort of look. He starts to speak, stops himself with a shake of his head, and then, after a sigh, "We've got to stick together out here. It doesn't have to be every man for himself. And we don't have to be against each other."

"I know . . ."

"Okay." When you don't answer, he scoots closer to you, lifting the edge of the blanket that he's had wrapped around himself. Before you can protest, he tucks it around you and leans into your side.

Heat rushes to your face at the close proximity. Your first instinct is to lean away from him, but he explains before you can.

"If we're going to survive, you have to be able to fight. Get some sleep, (Y/N). You won't be any good to anyone if you're exhausted."

Oh. Something inside your heart drops a bit, like a wilting flower. After bickering with him for as long as you've known him, for a split second, it had been nice to think that Liebgott had cared about you, and not just because you were stuck in a foxhole together. It's a thought that's flashed across your mind before, but you've always pushed it away. And you will again; Bastogne isn't the place for this kind of introspection.

Still, it had been a nice thought. And coupled with the sudden warmth of his body beside yours, it lessens the oppressive heaviness that's been dragging you down the past few days. Without realizing it, you allow yourself to lean into his side, resting your head against his shoulder.

"I'll watch the line," he promises softly.

Sleep presses your eyelids closed, but you manage to nod just before drifting off. "Danke, Liebling."

He stiffens underneath you. "What?" He glances at your still form. "(Y/N), what did you say?"

But you're already asleep.

And he's left wondering why you just called him Darling -- and why that causes such a funny feeling in his chest.

[dourpeep]

Imagine being friends with Signora, Tartaglia, Scaramouche

Like you're not even part of the fatui you're just some person who they vibe with and owns a teashop (of course you're strong but you prefer to just sit down and enjoy a cup of tea and talk about the weather) like can you imagine the power you'd have?(both mentally and physically) I'd be pretty amazing. People would be worried about you thinking they might kill you soon even though you tell them not to worry. Also to add a bit of comedy they all 'low-key' have feelings for you but you don't notice (or maybe you do ;)) and you think that's just their way of telling you they care about you or consider you their friend

-no primogems

Primos I-

Someone physically restrain me before I end up getting carried away with writing again- oh no- I...got carried away.

I think that this is another favorite thing of mine because you're just living peacefully, probably out in the Liyue countryside. It's beautiful and rather out-of-the way. More a place that depends on word of mouth rather than foot traffic.

So, taking advantage of this, of course the trio of Harbingers would find themselves at this secluded area for a short break.

There is just one rule: do not cause trouble.

This isn't a problem at all, your customers are well behaved enough to not spread rumors within the walls of your shop and the Harbingers aren't really ones to cause a ruckus if it's unnecessary.

After a few more visits, they get to witness just exactly what happens if you break the rules. Quick and resolute, you ensure that the gentleman who disrupted the peace is dealt with. No using visions, nor physical force. Just a short phrase.

Get out.

And he does.

Of course, the Harbingers are there to witness just exactly how powerful you are. To be able to utter two words and the man leaves with a frightened expression and nearly begging for forgiveness?? What sort of power do you truly hold? It grabs their interest, and now, you see the three of them visit on their own now and then.

With running your shop, you also believe it is good to relate to your clients. To offer fresh tea personally, start a short conversation, or even just listen to the stories they have to offer.

Tartaglia is the first to speak to you.

He's young, bright-eyed, and recounts a few of his own battles (to which his companions' body language suggest that he should not). As always, you sit with your legs folded beneath you and listen. They're fascinating, really, and tell you a lot about his passions. You also hear a bit about his family--parents, siblings, his homeland, definitely a bit more about a certain younger brother who'd journeyed to Liyue on his own (Tartaglia assures you that his brother, Teucer, was entirely unharmed).

Next, would be Signora.

No doubt, the beautiful woman has caught a few eyes as she sits in the serene silence. But, she didn't speak. Not like Tartaglia. Instead, she'd invite you to sit with her and enjoy a cup of tea--a reward for hard work that certainly is earned.

The wind flows and the gentle tinkle of bells sounds from the ornament hanging from the tea shop's window.

As for Scaramouche, he seemed to be most stubborn of them. A moment of reprieve is fantastic, but he seldom stops by unless he's accompanied by his coworkers.

Rather than striking conversation or inviting you to join him, he watches. You can nearly feel his gaze on you, trying to figure out who you are. If you should be considered a threat.

Luckily, your calm, amicable nature quells that. Though that still doesn't stop him from believing there's more to meet the eye. Rather similar to himself, actually. Between you, there is an unspoken respect.

There isn't a chance that the three of them would confide in the other about their feelings. Until a passing comment Tartaglia makes on the trio's way to the shop piques interest. You weren't married, not from the way the shop is owned and ran by you just to the side of your small home, and not from the way your fingers were bare of any ring.

Nothing more than a little glance towards each other is exchanged at this revelation.

But, you notice, that they have often had gifts delivered. A new, exquisite tea set (you set it aside for when the three of them, together or individually, visit), the finest quality tea leaves (you notice they're a particular type of tea from Inazuma), jewelry, even (which accept gratefully but do not use, it would be considered rude to decline a gift).

This idea isn't out of the ordinary when you tend to be close to your clients. Often, they'll drop by with gifts, though not of this quality. In fact, the reason for having such a wide variety of tea sets is due to your dear customers.

So you take these as a sign of goodwill between you and them.

When they offer protection or a steadier source of tea leaves, you decline. It's a nice gesture that you are just as grateful for, but it's unnecessary when you can protect yourself and have no need for such large quantities of tea.

Of course, this is frustrating when you're essentially being courted by three of Snezhnaya's most powerful soldiers.

But you, a humble teashop owner, have all the time in the world to figure that out.

[mxssromanoff]

i. butterflies

part two

prompt; in which the reader and isabela have no idea that they were set up as each others' secret admirers by your brother and her cousin.

pairing; isabela x afrolatina!reader

warning; a curse word, ooc camilo?, kinda angsty

wordcount; 3.4k

a/n; finally got around to writing this after exam week! unfortunately, i ran out of brain juice and this was the thing i came up with. this was also requested so i hope i didn't mess anything up ajdhadgh (and sorry for the long wait!)

also, reader and isa are kinda bi/pan coded? or maybe they have comphet, idk it's up for interpretation

"Are you not going to open that, hermana?" your younger brother asked.

You didn't need to turn away from your work to know that he was talking about the untouched package on your desk paired with an unopened letter.

“I'm not in a hurry, Matías," you said as you cut up butterfly pieces from an empty iridescent sheet, careful not to make their edges jagged—although splotches of paint on your desk did threaten to destroy them.

“But look at it!" he prodded. “Someone actually took the time and effort to give you something like that.”

You spared a glance at the neatly wrapped gift, complete with a perfectly tied f/c bow and you swore you could catch the smell of flowers wafting from the letter.

“I wouldn't be doing this right now if I'm not in a rush,” you said before pausing to add, “You haven't seen any butterfly ornaments lying around, have you?”

To say that Matías looked suspiciously nervous by that question was an understatement, but your exhausted brain couldn't quite register that.

After all, you had been working all night for a client, as evident by the random splotches of boldly colored paint against your clothes and your darker skin—you were pretty sure there were some in your curls too, although you hoped not.

“Come on, would it kill you to take a break?” he said.

“And how do I know that this isn't merely one of your schemes?” you asked, raising a brow as you finally dropped the scissors in your hands and leaned back against the upholstery of your chair.

“Just give it a try,” he said, pushing the gifts in front of you.

“Fine,” you said, finally relenting. “But if I find out that this is one of your pranks, you're eating raw cabbages for a month.”

“Isabela, my favorite prima!”

“No,” Isabela said as she walked past her cousin, immediately greeting him with vibrantly colored flowers hitting him in the face—he was lucky they weren't poison ivies.

“I haven't even said anyth—”

“Not interested.”

Her foot was already on the staircase when Camilo blocked her path.

“What do you want?” she seethed, not in the particular mood to deal with any of her cousin's schemes. All she wanted was to lay in bed and rest for the day. Was that too much to ask for?

“So you know about that secret admirer of yours—eek!”

Isabela rolled her eyes and pushed him aside, not wanting to hear yet another word from Camilo's mouth, as she continued ascending the stairs.

“Did you even give it a read?” he asked.

She did not. Besides, it wasn't like she didn't have a mountain of confessional letters rotting away in some corner of her room.

It was quite flattering, really, that people still liked her even after she came out of her phase of perfection, but someone like Isabela had no time for romance. Not yet anyway, at least.

“If you have nothing else better to do, just go bother your hermana or anybody else.”

"I would buuut...this is for you," Camilo insisted. "And Dolores is already with Mariano."

"Then tell the guy that I'm not interested!"

"Actually—"

Isabela sharply turned on her heels and glared down at her cousin who nearly stumbled backwards with her abrupt halting. She crossed her arms against her chest, clear exasperation written all over her features.

"Actually what?"

"Actuallyyy..." Camilo trailed off, looking away before shoving the letter into Isabela's hands and running away. "I think it's best if you just figure it out yourself! Bye!

"Camilo!"

"I'll come back for your response later!"

Isabela stared at her primo's retreating figure in utter disbelief and if looks could kill he would have dropped dead then.

Groaning, Isabela clutched the piece of paper in her hand and stomped off towards her room, fuming. Well, there's another letter to her trash collection.

Except the moment Isabela entered her room, she turned to look at the letter in her hand and only then did she realize that her secret admirer hadn't even bothered choosing a clean paper. It was covered with splatters of ink and paint, very much unlike the previous ones she'd gotten.

It was a tiny detail, yet one that piqued Isabela's interest. She went through all that headache with Camilo so she might as well read it.

With a sigh, Isabela carefully opened the piece of parchment, expecting cheesy lines or some letter of adoration...only to be met by a single sentence.

Please scream if you're being held captive.

She snorted at that. What kind of secret admirer would write that just because she hadn't responded back?

Yet Isabela couldn't help the amused smile growing from the corners of her lips and with a roll of her eyes, she finally slid in front of her desk to write a returning letter.

If I was held against my will, I don't think I'd be able to scream...although, I must say that you aren't completely wrong in that aspect.

You had been reluctant to open the letter just moments before, unwilling to fall for whatever schemes your brother had in that head of his, but since you actually had nothing better to do that day, you decided to just go with it.

You thought about throwing the letter away and just leave the conversation at that. However, the second you picked up your pencil it wasn't a sketch that you came up with, but another note addressed to this "secret admirer" of yours.

Wrong in what aspect? That you've been caught by my "irresistible charms"? You flatter me.

Isabela nearly laughed at that. Her? Caught by her secret admirer's irresistible charms? It was laughable. She didn't even know what he looked like.

She glanced at the vibrant blue butterfly ornament seating on her desk, its iridescent wings glowing in a myriad of colors as it bathed in the golden light of the sun spilling through her window.

At least he had some interesting talent.

"Don't forget the flowers," Camilo whispered. Isabela glared at her cousin over her shoulder.

"Why would I give him flowers? He's the one courting me!"

"For their...butterfly collection?"

Isabela stared at him, and it took a lot of back and forth's before she was finally convinced—or rather, annoyed to the point that the headache was too much to bear—to send her secret admirer...some flowers.

Obviously. We wouldn't be talking right now if you weren't so worthy of a swoon. Anyway, I might be wrong but a source told me that you liked butterflies, so perhaps some marigolds and celosias to enhance your collection?

You held the bouquet close to your chest. You had seen a lot of colors in your lifetime, mixed a few more for your canvas, but none ever came close to the vibrancy as the ones you held in your arms.

As an artist, it was something that you could truly admire for hours. The arrangement itself was already an art of its own.

Though, of course, you wouldn't let yourself be swayed so easily.

As you set the bouquet aside, you sat down to write yet another response.

"Someone is happy," your hermano commented with a grin to match your own.

"Shut up," you said, giving him a playful nudge with your arm before turning to look back at your handiwork. A bracelet made out of butterfly sequins and some chains.

It wasn't anything special. You just enjoyed making simple jewelry out of butterfly sequins in your spare time.

“You know, I could already hear abuela from the grave.”

“Oh, really?” you said, amused. “What is she saying?”

“Y/N, why are you staying in here and not chasing after the love of your life!” he said with an attempt to imitate your abuela's voice.

You laughed and rolled your eyes at your brother. It wasn't like you knew who your secret admirer was. During the month of you two exchanging gifts and letters, his name never even came up and though you've enjoyed the intrigue of the anonymity of it all, you did wonder just who this mystery person was.

“Well, abuela,” you started. “There is no love of my life."

"You say that but you couldn't wait for the next letter," your brother teased. "Oh! And those dreamy sighs and faraway look you get whenever you think about—mhpmf!"

You picked up a pan de queso on your table and shoved it into his mouth.

"I can't call him that when I don't even know his name, Matías," you said. "Or what he looks like."

"...He?" your brother asked as he swallowed a piece of the bread.

"Yes, he, my secret admirer," you sighed, cutting up another cardboard. "For all I know you could have just picked up a random old man off the streets of the encanto to fill up the void that's supposed to be my love life."

Your brother laughed awkwardly. "Err...About that....I think I have something to tell you—"

"Ah, crap, I ran out of glue again," you said as you started to stand up from your seat. "I'll be back. Don't touch anything."

"Wait, Y/N—"

You turned to him. "Do you want me to buy you anything?"

"Um, no, I just—you know what? Some more pan de queso would be nice."

It was a lovely day out in the village. All sunshine, no rain, people going about their day with smiles plastered on their faces. Best of it all?

Isabela wasn't forced to sprout flowers every second of the day.

"You should get him this," Mirabel said, grabbing a ridiculously colored poncho from some random stall in the market.

Isabela rolled her eyes playfully. At that point, everyone knew about Isabela's secret admirer. Camilo just couldn't simply keep a secret for the life of him if it meant teasing his eldest prima.

"Funny, Mirabel," she said sarcastically. "Now go get what you came here for so we can get home faster."

"What, so you can write letters to your super secret lover?" her younger sister teased. Isabela stared at her, unamused. "Alright, alright, I'll go get the fabric—but I'm not wrong, am I?"

Isabela flicked a flower at her sister's face, although a smile was present on her lips. She wasn't wrong. Writing letters to her secret admirer had become the highlight of her days.

From sarcastic flirtations to talking about your days to telling each other about their secrets nobody else could have possibly known, it was something that Isabela slowly grew to cherish in her heart. In fact, the mere thought of it was enough to make her heart flutter.

Though, there was still the problem that she still had zero clue on who had been sending her the notes and gifts.

"I'm gonna go buy mama's ingredients," Isabela said as the flower finally fell from her sister's face to reveal a shit-eating grin. "Don't go causing trouble anywhere."

"Don't worry, we'll be home before you get to see your next letter."

Isabela rolled her eyes with a sigh but said nothing more as she turned to walk away, only to bump into someone else.

She stumbled forward, being caught off-balance then whirled around to see another person on the ground and a bunch of bags lying around.

She immediately went on her knees to help.

"Are you okay?" Isabela asked, gathering some glue, some iridescent sheets of paper, some bread—okay, maybe not the bread. Those were no longer edible.

"Yes and I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to bump into you," the other person said as she quickly bundled up all her belongings while mumbling something about Matías probably not minding dirty bread. "Are you okay?"

"Well, yes I'm—" Isabela froze when she finally looked up to turn to the most beautiful person she's ever laid her eyes on. Y/N Muñoz.

And it felt like seeing you for the first time again. The sun casted over your figure, giving a golden ethereal glow to the absolute goddess that you were and Isabela swore she was hearing angels sing.

"...Isabela?" you said.

"Fine!" she blurted out, startling you and herself. "I mean I'm fine, are you? No wait, I just asked that."

Laughter bubbled up from your throat, a sound that was a blessing to her ears, before you pointed at her head. "You have flowers on your head."

Isabela felt her cheeks growing warmer as her hand shot up to remove them.

"Here, let me," you said, stopping her as you grew closer to remove the flowers on her hair. She actually felt like fainting there and then, suddenly forgetting everything that happened in the past month she hadn't actively sought out to catch the briefest glimpse of you. "...and I think that's it."

"Th-Thank you," Isabela managed to sputter out before remembering that both of you were still on the ground...or that she still held your belongings. "Oh! These are yours."

You took the items in her hand, your fingers briefly brushing against hers. Isabela nearly melted but she had to remind herself that there was someone else in her life now.

Besides, everyone knew that you were unattainable with how you brushed off every single suitor in the village, including Mariano himself before being set up with Isabela.

"Thank you," you said as you stood up from the ground, brushing away the dust from your skirt.

Isabela did the same, although she couldn't help but admire how you decided to dress yourself, the colors of your clothes perfect matching your dark skin.

Then her eyes caught a glint on your chest. Wait, that looked familiar.

“Where did you get that?” she asked, staring at the dried flower pendant hanging around your neck.

“Oh, this?” you said, grabbing the object of interest. Isabela had failed to notice the way your eyes lit up. “It was given to me by someone.”

“Who?”

“I...actually don't know his name.”

Isabela pursed her lips.

“Is something wrong?” you asked.

“I need to have a talk with Camilo,” she said before turning on her heels and walking away, leaving you confused.

“Hey, Isa—”

“Not now Mirabel!”

“Where is Camilo!?” Isabela burst through the doors of casita and had it been possible, there would be steam coming out of her ears in that moment.

“He's...in the kitchen...? Isa, are you okay?”

“No!" she answered as she stormed past Luisa and as soon as she got to the kitchen, she grabbed her cousin's arm and dragged him over the nearest room. She shoved him inside before locking him with her, blocking off the only exit with her vines.

“Uh...what did I do?"

“What did you do?” she repeated through gritted teeth. “I don't know, Camilo. What did you do!?”

“Yes...that's what I'm asking?” her primo laughed awkwardly, shrinking away from the fuming Isabela.

“Who's my secret admirer?” she asked.

“About that—”

“Just give me a name!”

“It's Y/N!” he squeaked out. “Matías's sister.”

Isabela's face fell.

No, that...that wasn't right. She thought it was just some guy deciding to play with both of your feelings but—no, that can't be.

All this time, she was talking to you and Isabela didn't know what to make of that. Some part of her felt giddy with happiness yet another was just a whirlwind of emotions that partly wanted to kill her cousin.

“You're lying,” she accused.

“I'm not, I swear it's Y/N!” Camilo insisted. “I just thought that maybe you'd finally have the confidence to talk to her if we pushed her to send you letters, and you did! I'm just trying to help!”

And there she thought she was being subtle especially since she's always had a crush on you for years, and for Camilo, out of everyone in her family, to notice that...

“Since when did you know?”

“So remember that time after casita was rebuilt?” he laughed sheepishly and Isabela blinked, suddenly remembering things.

She definitely just talked to Camilo disguised as Dolores who was only trying to get seconds—and neither of them had even told her.

Isabela slapped her forehead.

“Does Y/N know?”

“Well...” he trailed off. “Matías never mentioned anything.”

Cacti appeared on the ground, standing dangerously close to Camilo's feet.

“She called me a 'he'!” she exclaimed.

“Oh, you talked to her—”

“Does she even like girls!?”

“That's up for debate—eep!” a cactus appeared beside his head. “Matías said that he thinks she does!”

“Dios mío...” Isabela said. “You two are basing off of assumptions!?”

“You like her, she likes you, I don't see the problem here—”

“Camilo, you can't just assume what and who people are into!” she said.

“She's into you.”

“Yes, because she thinks I'm a guy! How am I going to tell her that I'm not!?”

“Walk up to her and—”

“It's not that simple! Have you thought about how abuela would react? How her family would react? How everyone else would react? How she would react!?” her voice grew increasingly louder with every question when a knock came on the door.

“What!?”

“I'm just...trying to check in if you two are okay?” came the worried voice of her sister, Luisa. “Is Camilo still breathing?”

Isabela sighed and removed the vines before she opened her door.

“Do not talk to me.” She glared at Camilo before storming off.

Over the course of the next few days, there were no new notes or gifts, or even any news about your secret admirer and you had grown increasingly worried.

Everyday that you waited, your brother would be empty-handed as you handed him yours to be sent out to the mystery guy of your affections.

“Still nothing?” you asked.

Matías would shake his head, an apologetic smile on his face.

And you'd nod your head in understanding. Maybe he was just busy.

The first few notes you sent out were normal, though making sure to ask if your secret admirer was doing okay and telling him that you were always there if he needed anything at all.

Then it grew increasingly worried as you tried to desperately reach out, yet you'd receive nothing in turn.

“Did something happen?” you asked your brother one day.

He'd pause, thinking about his answer carefully. “Just give it some time.”

You'd stare at the ceiling every time, trying to remember what you could have possibly done wrong. Did you say something he didn't like? Did he see you do something that he hated?

All of those would lead to late nights pouring all your emotions into long letters that you never got to send for the most part.

You watched as the flowers in your collection wilted with nothing else to replace them, leaving a rather depressing view of your once lively butterfly collection.

Sometimes you'd cry, though you still hanged onto that sliver of hope that maybe he'd return again.

The lack of response had left you heart broken and hurt after a while, a little bitter even.

Was I only a game?

You'd write to him.

Was I only some other girl to add to your collection?

Some days, you won't even eat, preferring to lock yourself up in your studio to drown yourself with work. Sometimes, it worked. Sometimes, it didn't.

Are you happy now that you've conquered my heart and left it in pieces?

“I don't think you should write anymore,” Matías said one day as you handed him a piece of paper, looking at you in worry.

“One last letter,” you said, sounding tired. “And I'll forget about him.”

“Hermana—”

“Please,” you pleaded. “For me?”

Matías stared at you before he finally nodded his head. “Fine, but no more after this.”

If you ever cared about me, meet me in front of the chapel at 10PM tomorrow night. I'll be waiting.

Isabela turned to look at the clock on her desk. 1AM. Guilt pooled at her stomach.

She's read every letter you've sent, felt the weight of every word you wrote yet nothing was enough to overpower her fear of how you'd react or what everyone else's reactions would be.

Her abuela might have accepted the fact that she didn't want to be with Mariano, but she was still expected to be with a man.

And Isabela still had the lingering fear of disappointing her abuela and her family. It wasn't something that could be taken out of her system easily.

She thought about going to you and explaining herself, but...it was better that way.

You'd forget about her and move on, maybe find some nice guy who won't be forced by his cousin to mislead you.

And maybe someday, she'd find the same thing too.

[theoreticslut]

「 favourite christmas wish 」

luke alvez x reader

summary: coming home to find you under the christmas tree, luke has some smart comments to make.

requested: no

word count: 1.6k

warnings: slight pov shift from reader to luke, few swear words, fluff

a/n: ahhh i’m so happy with this fic. idk if it’s necessarily my best work, but it’s super cute/fluffy and it’s LUKE! plus it’s christmas-y which makes me happy even though it’s clearly not very christmas-y around here rn. i wrote this as a small little writing challenge for @jillys-feral-fandoms christmas sleepover, so definitely check that out! anyways, I hope you like the fic! pls like, comment, & REBLOG if you did xx

“Roxy! Oreo!" you hiss exasperatedly.

They have to be chasing each other across the apartment, bumping into the tree as they go and knocking off some ornaments. Thankfully none of them break as they fall on the tree skirt, but they did roll under the tree a bit.

You love your pets, but sometimes they could be little menances, especially when it came to your cat. He was truly a little terror more than half the time.

When you had attended a BAU family dinner a few years ago with emily, you didn't expect to fall for her coworker and team member, Luke. As a profiler however, as well as having been your best friend for literal years, she noticed your attraction and crush on him right away.

Being herself, she encouraged you to pursue it - inviting you to more BAU outings, talking you up to Luke (without your knowledge of course), and even purposefully calling you to come pick her up from a night out drinking with the team when she had gotten a bit too tipsy.

Before long Luke was asking for your number and asking you out on a date which you had happily agreed to. You were nervous as to how your pets would react to the situation though. You know that Luke and Roxy had been the only ones in each other's lives for awhile, and the same went for you and Oreo. In your case, however, Oreo was quite possessive and attached to you. You weren't sure what bringing another person into your life would do.

Luckily after having Luke over frequently, Oreo seemed to accept him. Personally, you believe it was more due to the fact that your cat saw how happy Luke made you rather than him just accepting this new person into your lives. Either way it was exciting to see him tolerating, and even giving his attention to, Luke.

It was even better when your started to see Oreo getting along and loving Roxy a few months after you moved in with Luke. You and Luke were getting along amazingly and were more than ready to move on to the next step in the relationship, but you both knew what the risks of introducing your animals to each other were.

Luke was the brilliant mastermind for the entire ordeal, though. He was the one to suggest that the two of you slowly introduce the animals to each other before you moved in with each other. He started bringing Roxy whenever he came over, letting her get even more used to you, even though she had already accepted you from the first time you met her, as well as get used to Oreo.

He went slow with it - bringing her over just for a couple hours at a time before bringing her over when he stayed the night with you. It seemed to go okay, too. Oreo wasn't necessarily happy about this dog invading his home, but he tolerated her which you and Luke couldn't be mad about.

It's been just over a year that you've lived together now, and the two got along amazingly. Roxy loved playing and instigating Oreo when he was laying around, and Oreo loved to play and instigate her when she layed around. It's truly like they were siblings that had grown up together at this point.

You loved it, but it could be frustrating when they were being a bit too energetic playing like they were today. Realizing you needed to get the ornaments picked up before you forgot about them, you sigh and kneel down in front of the tree.

Looking under the tree, you try to figure out where they fell, but from this angle you couldn't see them. Figuring they had rollen further underneath, you resort yourself to laying face-down on the floor to try to get them.

While you could see them, you unfortunately couldn't reach them from where you were at given you had rather short arms compared to the girth of the tree you and Luke had gotten for the holidays.

Sighing, you cautiously start to wiggle yourself underneath the tree trying to reach the damn ornaments. You honestly would have left them if they weren't sentimental family pieces that you wanted to see on the tree.

One was a hand-made faux stained-glass bulb you had painted little snowflakes on in glue before covering in silver glitter. The others were character ornaments that you remember having on your tree every christmas since you were a child. It just wasn't christmas if those ornaments weren't on the tree. Therefore, under the tree you went to retrieve them.

~.~

Luke was thrilled to be coming home on time from work. Every night he got to see his favourite girls and little guy was a good night. In his mind, there's nothing better than getting to hold you in his arms each night, especially when he got to fall asleep with you in his arms.

He honestly doesn't know if he'll ever be able to thank Emily enough for getting the two of you together. When he saw you at that dinner with emily a few years ago, he knew he needed to find a way to get to know you. Not only were you breathtakingly beautiful, but you radiated this warmth in your smile and laugh that he knew would be the end of him. Having gone home that night without your number will always be his dumbest moment.

The next week when Emily came in and started talking about you to him more and more frequently though, he knew the universe was giving him another chance. He never gave it a thought that the entire reason Emily started talking about you more frequntly was because she knew you liked him though. In his mind, you couldn't possibly find him attractive. What a surprise - but also a relief - it was when you said yes to going on a date with him. Now you've been dating for nearly three years and he's never been happier.

Knowing that you more than likely haven't done anything for dinner yet, he stops by your guys' favourite takeout place and orders your favourite. He's all ready to surprise you with a rather early return home from work and a night full of cuddles and movies, but when he walks in the door to find you literally under the tree, he's the one getting surprised.

As the good boyfriend he is, he can't help but enjoy the view of your ass as you do whatever it is that you're doing. He can't help it - your ass is one of his favourite parts of your body, and he loves every part of your body.

Setting the food down on the end table closest to him, he can only smirk to himself as you wiggle around not knowing he's there.

"Well I see my present has arrived under the tree," he chuckles. "Have to say that the big guy knew exactly what I wished for."

Watching you peek out from under the tree he can see you roll your eyes, but that also means he sees the annoyed smile that only he can bring on your lips.

"I hope you're talking about all of me and not just my ass, Alvez."

Chuckling, he makes his way over to you as you reach for him in a silent demand for help.

"As much as I love your ass, hon, nothing compares to all of you. What are you even doing under there?"

"Our lovely animals knocked some ornaments down when they bumped into the tree while chasing each other earlier. I've been trying to get them, but they rolled underneath the tree a bit too far." you answer, huffing lightly.

"Do you need some help?"

"I just need you to grab them as I hand them to you. Then maybe help me get out from here myself."

Chuckling lightly, he nods and starts grabbing the few ornaments you hand out to him. Setting them on the couch for safe keeping, he moves to stand over you - one foot on either side of your body. He carefully wraps his arms around your waist and helps slide you out from under the tree, only rolling your shirt up under your breasts as he does so.

He watches as you stand up and adjust your clothes, dusting them off as well, before finally looking up to him with a big smile.

"Thank you, baby. I appreciate the help. I like seeing you home so early."

"I like being home so early. I miss you every second that I'm there." he chuckles, placing a kiss to your lips as you wrap your arms around his neck, his going around your waist and lifting you up off the floor.

You giggle as you wrap your legs around his body to hold yourself up, pressing a kiss to his lips as soon as he pulls away.

"I love you, luke."

"I love you, y/n." he smiles before patting your ass to signal he's setting you down. "Now I brought home your favourite as a surprise. What do you say we eat while it's still warm?"

Chuckling at your eager nod, he sets you down and motions for you to sit while he heads out to the kitchen for drinks and silverware.

When he comes back he can't help the smile that grows on his face as you start 'How the Grinch Stole Christmas,' the snowflakes dancing across the screen while the soft music and opening credits play.

Taking a seat beside you while Roxy and Oreo finally coming out from wherever they had been hiding at the smell of food, Luke can't imagine a better night. He can't help but chuckle at his earlier comment either - you, and this life he has with you, are by far the best christmas gift he could ever want.

[extasiswings]

Ohhh 70 (“After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?”) OR 93 (“You’re more than that.”) for the prompt thing, whichever you prefer! I always adore your writing, thank you so much for sharing it with us ☺️

OR? No, both. And thank you, you're very sweet. On ao3 here.

Most of the time, Buck feels like there’s no one in the world who understands Eddie as well as he does. Most of the time. Because there are still some other times when he’s completely in the dark.

And sure, okay, it makes sense on some level because they all have their blind spots—of course he’s going to have a few where Eddie is concerned as well—but they never fail to catch him by surprise.

A month after Eddie comes home from the hospital, Buck is having coffee with Carla while Eddie’s at a physical therapy appointment and he offhandedly says—

“Not sure why I never see Ana. You would think Eddie being shot would make her want to be around more, not less—”

“Buck,” Carla interrupts, a strange look passing over her face. “Honey...Eddie broke up with her three weeks ago.”

That stops Buck short, makes him feel like he’s missed a step on the stairs.

“What?” His mouth is dry. He swallows. “He—why?”

Carla picks up her cup and takes a long sip, as if she needs the extra seconds to figure out what to say, and Buck backtracks.

“No, forget it, that’s—it’s not my business,” he says. It’s not. Even if it feels a little like it should be, even if he doesn’t understand why Eddie would tell Carla and not him, even if he’s Eddie’s best friend—

Buck knows that Eddie’s a private person. He knows that sometimes Eddie keeps things close to his chest while he’s thinking them through. Eddie hadn’t said a word about Shannon until she walked into the station and aired their business for all of them to hear. He barely talked about Ana in the first place. He changed his will and sat on that information for a year—

Buck’s not upset it’s just—it feels—

The thing is.

The thing is…He’s not oblivious. He knows how he feels about Eddie. How he’s felt for at least the past two years. Like he can’t breathe, can’t speak, can’t look at him without feeling like he’s screaming with it, bleeding love all over, unable to stop it dripping from every pore. Exposed and pathetically obvious, and the whole time Eddie has just—said nothing. Ignored it, Buck assumes, because he can’t not have noticed, can’t not have seen.

And maybe sometimes Buck has wondered if Eddie wasn’t ignoring it. If he felt the same and just couldn’t say it. Because he was grieving and wasn’t ready—

But then he was. He was ready. And he chose Ana Flores.

That was the end of it. That was supposed to be the end of it. Because Buck’s not a masochist, he knows he hangs onto things for too long, but he’s been working on knowing when to let go.

Except—except Eddie got shot. Eddie got shot and Buck sat on a hospital bed and stared as Eddie said no one will ever fight for my son as hard as you and you act like you’re expendable…but you’re not and the words felt…heavy. The air, weighted. And Eddie couldn’t look at him and Buck could swear that he was trying to say—

Buck knows he shouldn’t be. But there’s a part of him that’s angry. That wants to pace and run and clasp Eddie’s face between his hands and ask really? Now? Because—because Eddie got shot. Eddie got shot and Buck barely survived it, thought if Eddie died, he would have died with him, was more terrified than he’s ever been in his life. But he did survive. And he moved on. He kissed Taylor. He closed the door.

So Eddie’s not allowed to make big declarations that he could have made a year ago and then break up with his girlfriend when Buck is finally trying—

Okay, maybe he’s a little upset.

The rest of him though—most of him, really—knows he doesn’t have any right to be angry. Which is why most of him is just…tired. Tired and terrified and still so in love.

Buck thinks maybe Eddie was right all those months ago. The universe doesn’t scream. It just laughs. At him.

“Buck?” Carla’s gaze is soft. Steady.

Buck clears his throat. Drains the last dregs of his coffee. He tries not to feel like he’s swallowed glass.

“Did I tell you I’m seeing someone?” He asks, forcing a smile. “She’s a reporter. She was—she was at Eddie’s homecoming actually, maybe you met her. It’s still pretty new, but we’ve been friends for a while. Going pretty well so far.”

Something flickers in Carla’s eyes, but she takes a breath and smiles.

“That’s great, Buckaroo,” she replies. “I’m happy for you.”

He’s trying. He’s really trying.

He doesn’t ask Eddie about the breakup.

*

Recovery is slow.

Buck doesn’t really like thinking about it as recovery because Eddie’s the one who got shot. Eddie’s the one who was in a sling and in physical therapy and had to spend months waiting to be well enough to get cleared to go back to work.

Eddie’s the one who got shot. The one whose blood flooded the street. The one who spent days unconscious in the hospital. The one who almost died.

Eddie’s the only one who has anything to recover from.

Dr. Copeland doesn’t agree. Buck mentions that he’s having trouble sleeping, that his chest gets tight if he goes too long without seeing Eddie and Christopher, that he can’t breathe sometimes when he’s on shift and Eddie’s out of sight.

She refers him out to a trauma specialist. He tries to argue that it’s not his trauma, but she just looks at him for a long moment.

“When you say you can’t sleep, is it insomnia? Or do you have nightmares that wake you up?”

Buck bites his lip and looks down at his hands. When he blinks, they’re streaked with red. When he blinks again, they’re clean. He curls his fingers into fists to prevent them from shaking.

“A little of both,” he admits.

“And when it’s nightmares, what are they about?”

“…blood.” Eddie’s blood in the street, on his hands, splashed across his face, on his tongue—

She hums.

“Evan,” she says quietly. “It’s okay. It’s not a weakness to admit that you need help. And just because you weren’t shot yourself doesn’t mean you didn’t experience something traumatic. You’re allowed to seek treatment.”

Buck swallows. “I feel like…I should be better by now,” he admits. “Better than this. Shouldn’t it be easier?”

“Recovery is a process,” Dr. Copeland replies. “A journey. And it doesn’t always move in a straight line. There’s no timetable.”

Recovery. He makes a face.

But, he goes to see the specialist. He’s not sure how much it helps.

Blood splashing across his face, water running red, skin scrubbed raw—

Buck sits up gasping, cold sweat beading across his brow. Taylor is sound asleep on the other side of the bed, the distance between them a chasm he doesn’t know how to cross. He doesn’t know if he wants to even if he did.

He shivers. Grabs his phone. Quietly descends the steps of the loft to settle on the couch.

“Buck. Hey.” Eddie’s voice is gravelly and soft from sleep. Buck winces.

“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I don’t mind,” Eddie replies. “You know I don’t mind.”

Eddie pauses. “What was it tonight?”

Buck exhales shakily. “Your heart stopped in the truck before we could get to the hospital. I couldn’t get it to start again. I know it didn’t happen that way, but I still—”

“It’s okay,” Eddie says. “I’m okay. That—it wasn’t real.”

“Yeah.” It felt real though. Buck can still feel ribs cracking under phantom compressions, the slick of blood on his hands. He can taste Eddie’s blood in his mouth.

“What do you need?”

Buck stretches out and closes his eyes, the phone pressed hard to his ear.

You. Just you. Always you.

“Can you—” His throat clicks. “Can you just talk? It doesn’t matter about what, I just—”

I need to hear your voice. I need to hear you alive.

“Christopher picked a project for the science fair,” Eddie says. “You have to promise to act surprised when he tells you though. He’s really excited.”

“Oh yeah? I can do that. What is it?”

“Well…”

Buck falls asleep again with Eddie’s voice in his ear and he doesn’t dream again. Taylor wakes him on the couch in the morning, an odd look on her face—he doesn’t know how to explain that it’s not her fault. She just can’t help him. Perhaps she never could.

Buck thinks maybe there’s still a part of her that wants him to chase her. But he’s in no condition to chase anyone, even if he wanted to. It takes enough out of him to hold himself together. And to fight against what seems more and more inevitable.

So. Maybe he should stop fighting it.

He sighs and scrubs a hand over his face as he sits up.

“I think we should probably talk,” he says quietly.

Taylor tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and sinks down onto the couch next to him.

“I think we should.”

It ends as quickly as it began.

*

Christmas takes him by surprise. It’s not that Buck doesn’t notice the fall slipping away—a Halloween shift, a Veteran’s Day that has Eddie a little quieter, a little shakier, than usual, and Thanksgiving lasts practically a whole week with all the leftovers that end up in the station—but somehow it doesn’t fully register until he looks up at the calendar in the middle of December and sees a smiling Christmas tree sticker on a date ten days out. They’re not working, so the only question is where he’s going to end up, if anywhere. Although, he supposes even that’s not really a question.

He knows where he’ll end up.

Five days before Christmas, a last-minute tree has been wrangled into the Diaz house and Buck is fighting with a tangled set of lights while Eddie pulls out wrapping paper and ribbons and retrieves the hidden stash of gifts for Christopher from his closet. Christopher himself is fast asleep in his room, worn out from the day of running around, and without the extra person to focus on Buck takes a moment and lets himself just...watch Eddie. Sitting on the floor in low light with his legs stretched out, surrounded by ornaments and boxes and stray clippings and a small pile of somewhat lumpy, clumsily wrapped gifts, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he focuses on trying to figure out the right way to fold the wrapping paper—

There’s a stray piece of tinsel in his hair and a laugh catches in Buck’s throat, even as the rest of him aches with a sudden, fierce urge to brush it away.

He aches. Because this—this is what he wants. Eddie and Christopher and going around town to finish the Christmas shopping, picking out a tree and decorating it as a family, coming home to this day after day after day and knowing it’s where he’s supposed to be—

Eddie got shot. Eddie got shot and it was the worst moment of Buck’s life. He thinks sometimes that he would rather have his leg crushed under a thousand ladder trucks than risk going through that again, but—but running away didn’t make him stop loving Eddie. Dating Taylor didn’t make him stop loving Eddie. Time hasn’t made him feel anything less, if anything it’s just cemented things.

So...so if Eddie is going to have the power to hurt him that badly regardless of whether Buck admits it out loud, if the risk of loss is going to be there anyway...shouldn’t he at least get to have everything? All the good parts?

Don’t they deserve the chance to be happy?

“Buck?” Eddie’s brow is furrowed in concern. “You okay?”

Buck opens his mouth, intending to reassure him, but what comes out is—

“Are you in love with me?” Eddie freezes and Buck resists the urge to panic and take it back.

“Because—” Buck clears his throat. “Because sometimes I think you might be, and—”

“Yes.” It’s quiet, barely a breath, but that single word hangs in the air. Buck’s heart races.

“You could have told me,” he replies. “Why—why didn’t you just—?”

Eddie looks away and Buck catches a familiar look flickering across his face. Doubt, shame, fear—everything that he himself has felt—

Oh.

Blind spots.

He never considered that Eddie might be just as afraid of rejection as he is. He never considered that what’s been so painfully obvious to him, might not have been to Eddie himself.

Buck gets up from the couch, stepping carefully around the mess on the floor until he can kneel down next to Eddie. Eddie, whose jaw is tight, shoulders tense, like he’s waiting for a blow.

“After everything we’ve been through...you still don’t know that I love you?” Buck asks quietly.

Eddie sucks in a startled breath, turning back to look at him, his gaze searching. Buck holds it steadily and waits. It’s not the first time he’s walked out on a limb. But it is the first time he’s had someone else out there with him.

If it cracks this time, they’ll fall together.

“I didn’t think—” Eddie’s eyes close briefly as he clears his throat. “I didn’t think I was enough.”

“You are,” Buck replies. “You’re more than—Eddie—”

“We have a life,” he says when he can get his thoughts in line. “We built a life. Together. Even if we didn’t say that was what we were doing, it’s what we did. So, maybe—maybe we can try being a little more honest about what we want while we’re living it? I don’t—I don’t want to waste anymore time.”

Eddie looks down—then, he reaches out slowly for Buck’s hand, his fingers finding the spaces between Buck’s and slotting in.

Buck squeezes gently. Eddie squeezes back.

“Okay,” Eddie agrees. “Let’s try that.”

Buck does pluck the tinsel from Eddie’s hair, but when he tosses it away, his hand comes right back, fingers sliding into the strands to keep Eddie still. Eddie’s eyes are dark in the dim light, but his lips curve faintly up as Buck leans in.

Kissing him feels like coming home.

[uwuwriting]

A little early for that w/ Todoroki, Shinsou and Bakugou

Request: hii can i req a hc of todo, shinsou, and bakugou seeing y/n taking care of eri then they’ll be like “i want a baby with you” :D - anonymous

Don’t get me started on the latest BNHA chapter. I just don’t want to talk about it. I’ll try to make a double upload today so maybe expect a song fic after this one Love ya.💖💖💖

masterlist II rules

warnings: fluff

Todoroki Shoto 

-It was during Eri’s visit during christmas that it hit Todo. 

-You were dressed in a Santa costume just like everyone else with Eri gripping your hand as you took her around the room explaining all about Christmas celebrations. 

-It was a very mundane moment if you think about it. 

-You were being kind and caring to a child who had suffered immensely at the hands of Overhaul and you wanted to show her what the holiday was all about. 

-Now that he thinks of it, it shouldn’t have struck him like it did. 

-His chest became warm and fuzzy, his cheeks heating up a bit as he stared at you and Eri. 

-Then you kneeled down and brought Eri into a hug, raising her into the air so she could place an ornament on the class’s tree and it was game over for him. 

-He prides himself in being a rather collected person but at that moment he lost all sense of control over his emotions. 

-His mouth hung open and his chest started to squeeze, knocking the breath out of him. 

-He couldn’t help the thoughts of the both of  you owning a house somewhere not very far from Tokyo, waking up to you every morning , making breakfast with you and enjoying all the moments you shared. 

-Then other images flooded his mind. 

-Sitting in the living room as you steadied your toddler, a perfect mix of the two of you, helping them waddle towards him. 

-Him helping them place the ornament at the very top of your Christmas tree every time you decorated.

-He could see your smile so vividly he almost thought it was real. 

-It was a ridiculous thought for a 16 year old to have and he knew it but in that moment he let himself imagine it. 

-Before he knew it you were standing next to him, Eri running off to Aizawa excited to share what she just learned about christmas,  arms crossed over your chest as you let out a happy sigh. 

- “My santa work is done for the day.”

- “You would make a great mom” 

- *pikachu meme*

-He sensed your confusion *and so did your dead ancestors*

- “I want to be next to you when that happens.” 

-Girl you got whiplash from this whole conversation. 

-You couldn’t decide if you were soft and giddy since he basically said that he wants to start a family with you or if you were terrified because he said he wants to start A FAMILY WITH YOU WHEN YOU’RE BARELY 16. 

-In his defense he didn’t say he wanted to start now. 

-So you kinda calmed down. 

- “I-um thank you Sho. I think you would make a great father too.”

-Blushy blushy baby after that one. 

-Some denial sprinkled on top because trauma but blushy blushy boy. 

Shinsou Hitoshi

-Okay now third year Shinsou is a stressed Shinsou. 

-A third year you is a stressed you. 

-And a field day with your now ten year old somewhat trauma free adopted by your homeroom teacher child was what you both needed. 

-Shinsou is like a big brother to Eri at this point. 

-He has babysat her one too many times to not be considered at least a stable figure in her life. 

-You had decided to take a stroll in the park, the autumn air and all the pretty leaves making it a sight to behold. 

-Plus it had a pond with ducks. 

-And you love ducks. 

-Shinsou had brought some bread crumbs so you could feed them and that’s what you were doing when it hit him. 

-That weird domesticity. 

-You were crouched down on Eri’s height, one arm wrapped securely around her small waist so she wouldn’t fall into the pond and the other was outstretched with a piece of bread, motioning to the ducks to approach you. 

-It was a nice scene, picture perfect if you asked him and it did something to his heart strings. 

-Just like Todo he imagined walking home with you after a tiring day at your agency, your hands intertwined, matching golden bands circling your ring fingers. 

-He imagined a little Y/N being next to you and not Eri. 

-Vibrant purple hair sticking out at every which direction as they would throw bread at the ducks maybe even calling him over when one got too close. 

-He was so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed you standing in front of him, waving your hand over his eyes so you could get his attention. 

- “Earth to Toshi!” 

-You giggled when he shook his head, his eyes wide as he stared at your smiling features. 

- “Eri is hungry-” “You are hungry Y/N-chan!!!” “- and she wanted to go get some good old onigiri from that new shop that opened down the street.” “Lies…”

-You side-eyed the little girl who outed you, her own eyes staring right back in accusation as you let out a sigh saying under your breath “I’m hungry”

-He couldn’t control his laughter as it bubbled from his lips, ruffling Eri’s hair while giving you a kiss on the lips as he circled his arm around your waist and took Eri’s with his other one. 

- “Can’t say no to my girls now, can I?” 

-It was later that night when he voiced his thoughts. 

-You were asleep in his dorm, laying basically on him with your head tucked in his neck as you breathed evenly. 

- “It’s a little early to think of kids but I can’t wait to have one with you.” 

-And with that he fell asleep his dreams being filled with images of you.

Bakugou Katsuki 

-You managed to get him to say that???

-Mister tough as balls?

-Mister imma roundhouse kick you if you look at me with affection in your eyes?

-Someone get this girl a medal. 

-But in all seriousness it was a very motherly move. 

-You were in your second year, the events of the war with the villains still haunting all of you so everyone was keeping an eye on their loved ones and their classmates. 

-Bakugou was no exception .

-Seeing people getting hurt severely, seeing himself so defeated and hurt during those battles had rattled him and he would always linger close to you, a slight paranoia having taken his place in his heart the past few months. 

-You understood why he did it, why he hovered next to you most of the time and if you were being honest it didn’t really bother you * except from that one time you went to the bathroom and he called you three times in a row bc he couldn’t see you and panicked*

-Eri was running around with Kaminari and Sero, the three of them playing tag with the one brain cell they all shared at the moment. 

-Suddenly, Eri tripped and fell, scraping her knee on the pavement, small tears forming in her eyes but she didn’t let them fall. 

-In a flash you were next to her, a hand massaging her knee around the area of the wound while the other one was cupping her cheek, your thumb making small circles on the girl’s cheekbones. 

- “It’s just a scratch. See? It’s not that bad.”

-Bakugou was just staring at the scene unfolding in front of him, his immediate thoughts being that you looked so motherly in that moment. 

-The concern and the reassurance reminded him of his mother when she would calm him down after he got hurt, before she became a pain in the ass *as he likes to say*.

-Without him even realizing it he made a mental image of your shared family. 

-A house in the outskirts, with a yard, maybe a dog running around. 

-But most importantly a little demon that looked like you, climbing onto your shared bed on his day off, nestling in between you two as it went back asleep.

-You making breakfast while having them in your arms. 

-He really wished he could see that now. 

-But he’s a little young and you wouldn’t really like having a baby before finishing high school sooo he kinda buried it. 

-He told you about it when you both were in his dorm getting ready for a movie night. 

-It was a more aggressive approach but you got the point of his little rant. 

- “I want to spend my life with you too Katsu.” 

- “SHUT UP SHITTY WOMAN!”

- “OI!”

TAG TEAM AY:

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[randomoranges]

this is an ancient idea.

from rock band au. this takes place yrs later. i am v much aware that i have yet to finish that au and that there are only 2 parts left. shh.

Key Chains

 “I’m home!” Étienne sing songs as he steps into his shared home.

 From further inside, Edward closes his laptop and pushes back his glasses on the top of his head. He grins to himself and walks over to the entrance to greet his boyfriend.

 “Flight okay?” He asks after they exchange a long hug and one of many kisses. Étienne may have been gone for only a little over two weeks, but it certainly felt like much longer.

 “Uneventful. Boring really. Only got recognised once,” Étienne pouts. Edward laughs and helps him out of his jacket, before hanging it up.

 Normally, he manages to show up partway through a tour, or, if anything, he shows up to the airport to pick Étienne up, but for as much as his work sometimes allows him to be there, there are other times when he can’t follow the band to wherever it is they’re playing next. This had been one of such times and so, Edward had stayed behind, while Étienne had gone on tour with the rest of Les Maisonneuves.

 “More importantly, I got something for you!” Étienne tells him excitedly. Edward goes along, far too used to this strange little ritual of theirs, after so many years, and goes back to sit at the table, while Étienne rummages for whatever it is he has to give him. Edward knows already what it’ll be, but this too is part of their game.

 “Close your eyes,” Étienne warns him and Edward complies.

 For as long as they’ve been dating, Étienne has brought him back two items after every tour. He has a collection of them, by now and Edward treasures each and every one of them.

 When Edward is given the go, he opens his eyes to find a neatly folded concert t-shirt placed in front of him. Edward has one from every tour and they’re used for absolutely everything. Some have turned into pyjamas, others are work shirts for when he has things to do around the house, and there are a few he’ll wear out for a casual ensemble.

 Sometimes, Étienne will even steal one from him, which Edward thinks is hilarious. Étienne defends himself saying that it smells like Edward.

 “Oh, this one’s a nice shade of blue. New colour?” Edward asks as he unfolds the shirt, knowing full well that the second item will be inside of it.

 “Yeah, we wanted an update on t-shirt colours. Figured you’d like the change from the others.”

 Edward nods and as expected, he finds six different key chains, from six different cities inside the shirt, each one of them a place where the band had performed at during their latest tour.

 “Aw, I love these; thanks Sweetheart.” Edward rewards him with a kiss and Étienne beams, utterly pleased with himself.

 It started during Étienne’s first tour shortly after they’d started dating. Due to the health restrictions, Edward hadn’t been able to tag along and so, late one night, as they’d been on a video call, Étienne had asked Edward if there was something he could bring him back.

 There wasn’t anything that Edward needed, but Étienne had insisted, and so, in the end, Edward had asked him for a keychain, just to get Étienne off his case.

 Of course, Edward had failed to take into consideration the fact that Étienne never backed away from an opportunity to pull one on him. Therefore, when he’d returned from his tour, Étienne had brought him a keychain from each of the cities he’d played in.

 They weren’t fancy key chains, or even pretty ones. They were slightly tacky, this side of gaudy, but it became a thing – their thing, and soon enough, Edward found himself with a collection of them. Each one had the name of the city, sometimes there were other little ornaments on the ring, and – Edward cherished each and every one.

 When it got to the point that he had amassed quite the collection, Edward made himself a corkboard on which he put up the different key chains. First, there was the one at home, for his home office, then there was the one for his work office.

 “You know, at this rate, I’m going to need another board.” Edward remarks as he observes each keychain in turn. They’re just as spectacularly tacky and gaudy as all the rest and he loves each and every one.

 “Well, you don’t have a board back at our place in Montréal, so, that’s an option.”

 It’s crazy to think that Étienne’s original Montréal place is now their place, but then again – the same can be said about their place here in Edmonton.

 “It’s a good thing the band is still touring, in that case.”

 Étienne grins at the comment and Edward invites his partner to tell him more about his latest tour, even if he’s heard the main points of it over their many calls and text exchanges.

 FIN