#if i wasn’t worried that spending more time on being sappy would prevent me from actually posting this thing

[hausofmamadas]

OJITOS ANOCHECIDOS | Part 1

✷✷✷ LONGFIC IN PROGRESS ✷✷✷

Pairing: David Barron x Enedina Arellano Felix [aka Dinarrón]

Word count: 2.5K

✷ DISCLAIMER: This is an AU version of Barron, like to the point that mans has essentially become my OC. So, for the purposes of morality/sanity/all that is holy and correct this, we are disregarding Narcos: Mexico - Season 3, episode 8, Last Dance. For details, refer here. Also, gonna say this now: if I have to disclaimer “not condoning/glorifying the real people” aka “i don’t sanction the actions of drug cartels,” you're in the wrong place. Like best take that elsewhere porque ya te lo juro, for civility's sake, we will not be going there my guy. ✷

TWS: kinda aren't any? No sexing or dying ? Mostly Barron moping. Maybe canon-typical violence but i wrote this 100 years ago so can't remember for sure.

⁂

However surprised he was, it was also how he knew she was genuinely in love. She'd never set aside her freedom fro a business arrangement or a publicity stunt. Despite her trademark pragmatism, when it came to love, she refused to settle for anything less than fucking fireworks. *We were fucking fireworks.*

Just hours after Enedina Arellano Felix and mild-mannered, Mexico City lawyer Claudio Vazquez are pronounced husband and wife, David Barron finds himself at their reception regretting everything about taking this job as AFO head of security. It's not the pressure-cooker conditions of being the top sicario for the #1 Mexican drug cartel. It's not bc his own boss, Benjamin Arellano Felix loathes him. It's not even the taxing task of managing sibling dynamics in a family business where the siblings are cutthroat criminals and the family business is Crime. No, it's worse. Much worse. This small-time, Logan Heights pandillero has got it bad. Not at all on his radar when he got to TJ after his last stint in prison, but he's met someone perfect. Vibrant, witty, understands his work, someone who knows what it's like to be an outsider, between worlds just like him. Someone who loves him as much as he loves her. The problem? Just hours before, she walked down the aisle with mild-mannered, Mexico City lawyer, Claudio Vazquez. And none of it was part of the plan.

⁂

Barrón looked grimly out the double doors of the hotel ballroom. He took a big swig of water, then inspected his glass with a mixture of longing and mild disgust. God, what he wouldn’t do, who he wouldn’t kill, for it to be a glass of straight tequila or rum - fuck, he would’ve taken vodka with a chaser of everclear at that point. He had half a mind to ask Pancho to sneak him something from the open bar. But Benjamín would lose his shit if he found him drinking. Cabrón already yelled at him for using a cocktail glass just for club soda.

*Ey, ¿te pago por pistero o para que encargues de la securidad?*

*Es agua mineral.*

*El agua es para los invitados. Pancha, encárgate a tú gente.*

He rolled his eyes. Tú gente. Mín always treated him like he was disposable, an unwanted piece of furniture - the kind that clutters the living room, but you’re too lazy to haul it off to Salvation Army, so out of frustration or boredom, you shuffle it around, kicking it, knocking it, scuffing it up all along the way. If Mín knew how much she meant to him, how comprehensively he belonged to Dina, how gutting this whole godforsaken day had been, he wouldn’t have treated Barrón like some dog shit he tracked in through the front door.

But it was fitting, wasn’t it? Because David Barrón felt like dog shit. If he wasn’t so quiet and reserved by nature, he might’ve melted down catastrophically, like Rayo in the middle of Padre Baiz’s toast, or worse yet, tackled the groom, and pounded the shit out of his handsome, son-of-a-politician, country-club, joker face. He let himself daydream for a moment, lost in the emphatic thunk of his fist making contact with Claudio’s cheekbone, and again with the crest of his orbital socket, with his temple, blood on the fake wood, linoleum panels of the dancefloor, a few satisfying, angry, red specks on the collar of Claudio’s crisp, white dress shirt, Dina’s eyes, like a panicked horse, frantic and furious. He faintly shook his head, shaking the daydream loose with it. No, he could never humiliate Dina that way.

It had only been a few hours since she walked down the aisle. He replayed the soft, lamenting smile she gave him, as she and Mín passed him in the pews, and it split him in half all over again. It was as if to say, yo sé, mi cielito. I’m not sorry you’re here, but I am sorry. Even now, Barrón was still trying to reconcile the deep ache in his chest with the the swell of pride he felt at the first sight of her - regal, radiant, self-possessed, strong … *beautiful.* She never needed the ornate jewelry, hair piled two feet high behind her veil, the opulent, stately dress with the thousand-foot train, to be any of those things though. Truthfully, he preferred regular ole Dina. In fact, he hated the way her relatives gushed about how nice she looked on the way to the church, how they wished she’d get done up more often like this - *deja que veamos lo guapa que eres* - but also how they supposed she didn’t need to anymore since she finally landed a husband. As if she needed one.

ᴥ︎

When he first arrived in Tijuana with Pancho, Barrón was struck by Dina, impressed by how she never played by anyone’s rules or did what was expected. It was a quality he’d come to respect and treasure most about her. Regrettably, it was also a quality he knew she’d lose to this marriage, not by hers or even Claudio’s choice but by force of circumstance. You can’t play the dutiful wife of a politician, have babies, renovate your mansion, make hoers d’overs for high society galas, *and* head a major drug cartel faction. Life just didn’t work that way and Dina was practical enough to know that, which is why her engagement to Claudio came as such a shock to everyone, including Barrón. However surprised he was, it was also how he knew she was genuinely in love. She’d never set aside her freedom for a business arrangement or a publicity stunt. Despite her trademark pragmatism, when it came to love, she refused to settle for anything less than fucking fireworks.

*We were fucking fireworks.*

Except, Claudio wasn’t some pocho hood felon from Logan Heights. No, he had money and status and despite the illicit nature of the Arellano organization, they had both of those too. It didn’t matter that they hadn’t come by them honestly. Although, given what he’d seen of the Arellanos’ day-to-day hustle, the work they put in to get where they are, sometimes he felt they came by their status more honestly than the “respectable” Mexico City politicians and Tijuana elites. But that was just it. Claudio afforded the Arellanos respectability, or at least the perception of it, something they’d been chasing since their family relocated from Badiraguato to Tijuana years ago.

But the worst part, the part that he still couldn’t stomach - Claudio was a genuinely nice guy. He had an authentic, quiet charm. He was even-tempered and easy-going. Though not particularly gregarious, not the type to be the life of the party, he also wasn’t quick to anger, wasn’t controlling, and he not only loved Dina, he also respected her deeply. Dina was the kind of person who innately commanded respect but there were few men who could pay it proper, few who could honor her the way she required. There was a time when Barrón believed himself to be the only one who could rise to the occasion; almost comically sickening how wrong he was.

“Que pasa, carnal?” He felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. He turned around, accosted by the sight of Ramón’s fur coat. Barrón smiled, accepting the beer that he hid in pocket of the coat’s inner lining. Thank god por esto pinche obstinado, chifladito and his crazy fashion sense. Watching Món argue with Mín earlier, as he pleaded with him to leave it in the limo before they walked into the cathedral, was the first of few bright spots in an otherwise abysmal day. He smirked thinking about the look on Mín’s face, like he was about to have a seizure. He was so mad.

“You are kidding me con estes pendejadas Ra-món!” It’s always easy to tell Mín is really angry when he pronounces Ramón’s name as two discrete words.

“Ponte vergas, do you know how expensive this shit was? I don’t care, I’m not leaving it in the car.”

Barrón smirked when Panchito rolled his eyes and Mín looked like he wanted to bitch slap all three of them. But Dina, ever the diplomat, “Benjamín, ni vale madre nada, leave it alone. He likes the coat and so do I.” She winked at Món who flashed a wolffish grin back at her. Barrón half-expected him to stick his tongue out at Mín but he didn’t.

And now, Ramón and his coat were 2:2 for the night’s little victories, coming thru with a smuggled bottle of Corona. Still cold too, though he could’ve done without the mink strands stuck to the condensation on the side of the bottle. He must’ve made a face.

“Yeah, my bad, I don’t really know what to do about the shedding,” Ramón laughed.

“Nah man, it’s alright. I appreciate it.” Barrón surveyed the room, trying to clock Mín.

“Ah don’t worry, her royal highness Benjamín is too busy kissing the asses of all these Mexico City high rollers,” he motioned to the crowded ballroom, “to be encabronado with you for drinking a beer.”

Barrón shrugged, unconvinced, “do me a favor, just watch my back real quick.” Món looked puzzled but caught on, positioning himself in front of him, as he popped the lid off the bottle with the bottom of his Bic lighter. He winced at the hissing sound. It was nearly impossible to hear over the band’s PA, but that didn’t stop him from glancing around once more before downing the whole bottle in a few desperate, manic gulps.

“¡A huevo!” Ramón clapped him on the back, and he almost choked as he tore the empty bottle from his lips. “You want another one?” Ramón snapped his fingers at one of the juniors by the bar.

“Nah, nah man, don’t worry about it. I gotta stay sharp, anyway.”

“Pffft why? So, you can be ready for those pendejos to attack?” He bobbed his head in the direction of Guero and Azul’s table. “Everyone who wants us dead is already here, they were half the guest list.” He had a point there.

“All the more reason to stay sharp, no?”

Ramón gave a knowing smirk and nodded his head. “Alright flaco. Now, I remember why Pancho buddied up to you in prison, you don’t fuck around. Guess he was right to bring you to work for us,” with two fingers he did a mini-salute to Barrón, a gesture he couldn’t help but chuckle at, the cheeky bastard.

Barrón put his hand to his heart, feigning offense, “Don’t tell me you’ve doubted me this whole time? *Tsk tsk* cabrón.“

“Well, what was I supposed to think about some gringo from what- wherever the fuck Logan Heights is?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever playboy. You better get back to the party before Mín yells at me for talking too much, or breathing, or whatever.”

“How sweet, you called him Mín. You’re really one of us now,” he bowed jauntily as he walked away, “welcome to the family.”

Now that guy … he’s the life of the party.

ᴥ︎

He never expected to like Ramón as much as he did. But Barrón had to give it to him, he knew how to have a good time, and he did it in a way that drew others in without being intrusive. Shit, vato just needed to throw one of those wild, frat boy grins and you couldn’t help but smile back.

Barrón spent a lot of time observing people. Mi ensimismadito Dina used to call him, among other things: lost in thought, cool, aloof. Nothing he didn’t already know. In truth, he watched the world because he was shy, but it’s also what made him so intuitive, an almost prophetic judge of character.

So, the first time he met Ramón at Roxanne’s, he thought he’d sized him up right. He figured Món had it easy, hiding behind his older siblings who did the real work running the business while he ran around Tijuana smoking crack and ruining kids birthday parties, emptying clip after clip of A-K rounds into a clothesline of raw tuna at the park. The loudmouth, huevón baby brother, just another wannabe sicario with all the drug habits and homicidal tendencies of a gangster but not serious enough to get his hands dirty. That is, until Pancho told him about how he “took care” of the whole Chapo-tunnel problem by executing 12 men on site. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d sized somebody up so inaccurately, if ever. And though he’d never let Panchito know it, if he was really honest, that plot twist is probably what made Món his undercover favorite of the family. Well, second favorite.

Incidentally, his second favorite Arellano was the only Arellano who knew who his actual favorite was. Dina claimed she didn’t tell him, that he’d guessed. Perhaps he did, but Barrón always wondered if maybe she let something slip. She might’ve told him outright given that they were so close. God, he was mortified when realized that Ramón was on the up and up. It seemed such a scandal at the time, only to matter so little now.

”Ey morro, I’m goin’ to Roxanne’s, you should come with. I’ll introduce you to this chick I’ve been hooking up with. She’s bringing some friends–,” he whistled, and pantomimed a chef’s kiss “*muah* déjame que te cuente, son buuueen chuladas.”

“Ah shit man, I can’t.” Barrón tried coming up with a credible excuse. “I uh- I told your brother I’d help Dina. You guys are hiring new security personnel and I know some vatos from back home that they’re gonna use. Gotta get ‘em on the ‘payroll.’” Ramón laughed at his air-quotes around payroll.

*Sick, he bought it.*

Just as he was about to leave the kitchen, he heard the fridge close with an emphatic *thunk* and turned around to see Món tossing an apple in the air, sauntering over with a dark grin that screamed “trouble.” He reminded Barrón of that snake from The Jungle Book. Pinche plebe and his cartoons, he’d probably watched that movie ten damn times.

“Man, that’s so weird. I guess I heard Dina wrong earlier when she told me she wasn’t stopping by the club tonight because she had to take our mom to the doctor and then to get her hair done.” He bit down into the apple, the crisp crunch cutting the silence, and stood there chewing and grinning like a loon.

“Right, so I don’t know shit about shit, but have you ever heard of a hair salon that’s open at midnight? TJ is a huge tourist attraction but I don’t think we even have one of those.”

Barrón was silent. He couldn’t decide whether it’d be best to take out his gun and shoot him on the spot or run. Maybe he’d get lucky, and Món would save him the trouble by choking on that stupid apple. He stuck to his signature aloofness which tended to intimidate people enough not to ask follow up questions. But Ramón was a live wire of a person, and he doubted the effect would be as chilling.

Still, he didn’t push the issue. A mouth full of half chewed Granny Smith, he just kept on teasing, “S’weird right? I just don’t know why she would lie though. I wonder if–,” his eyes got wide as he lowered his voice, “shit, maybe she has a secret boyfriend or something. I mean it’s bout time someone made a nena of our lovely Enedina.”

Barrón wore a look of pure ice - liquid nitrogen level cold - as he tried to assess whether or not Ramón was leveling a threat or just taking the piss.

Almost as though he could sense his well-disguised panic, Món gave a buoyant shrug, “Oh well! I’m sure it’s nothing,” and bounded cheerfully out of the kitchen.

That exit sealed the deal. He felt reassured that Món would have the good sense not to say anything to anyone. He just wanted to see him squirm.

*That motherfucker.*

ᴥ︎

taglist: @cositapreciosa @criatividad-e @cherixrosa @ashlingiswriting @ashlingnarcos @narcolini @bellinitini @purplesong1028 @tinylittleobsessions @kesskirata @mandaloria314 @marrianena @southotheborder @artemiseamoon @narcos-narcosmx @carlislecullenisadilf @thesolotomyhan @narcosmx

*cue Whitney Houston’s And I Will Always Love You*

A huge thank you to everyone in the Narcos/Nmx writers discord/thot congregation for basically being a large group of betas and for always giving me a safe space to share my nerdy borderline psychotic love and enthusiasm for this show. You guys and everyone else in this tiny fandom are the best🥹

[ffamranxii]

HAIKYUU!! COUPLES HEADCANONS

DAISUGA

-Daichi goes to the gym to work out. Suga goes to the gym to ogle Daichi

-Suga has a massive sweet tooth

-Daichi cooks, Suga cleans

-Suga is a little shit who is not above seducing Daichi in public. He can say the most lewd things without batting an eye while Daichi blushes furiously

-Daichi and Kuroo once hooked up at training camp. They do not talk about it

-Daichi is good friends with Michimiya and Kiyoko. Suga is closer to Asahi

-Daisuga rarely fight and are often asked for relationship advice. Daichi tries to discourage this because “guys I didn’t realize Yui had a crush on me or that Suga was in love with me for three years.”

-Daichi can’t dance, won’t dance, and refuses to acknowledge the time he got trashed and twerked

-Suga dislikes his given name unless it’s said by Daichi, who is the only person allowed to call him Koushi

-Suga is extremely flexible. Daichi is not.

-Daichi or Suga getting hit on makes Daichi uncomfortable. Getting hit on amuses Suga, and Daichi getting hit on makes him horny

-It took all of high school for Daisuga to get together, because Daichi is oblivious and Suga assumed Daichi wasn’t into him. Daichi’s dumbness and their mutual pining becomes a fond, shared joke several years later

-Daichi has no gag reflex. 

-Daisuga have a very fat, very orange cat named Ninja. He’s surprisingly fast and agile despite looking like a furry basketball. (Daichi is a dog person and did not even want Ninja at first. He suspects Kuroo had something to do with this. Suga sometimes playfully gets upset because “Ninja likes you better than me, Dai!”)

-Everyone expects Suga to be the dominant one but Suga is more than willing to be submissive for Daichi and has on several occasions

ASANOYA

-Noya gets up before sunrise to run. Asahi would rather die than leave his bed before 8am

-Noya turns the coffee pot on and cooks breakfast to lure Asahi out of bed

-Noya is surprisingly patient, gentle, quiet, and kind when it comes to Asahi and his insecurities

-Noya is the type to bottle his insecurities and fears until they explode. The only one who can calm him back down is Asahi

-Asahi makes bratty faces when he thinks Noya isn’t looking

-Noya and Tanaka spend a lot of time with Daisuga because of the Daichi&Suga&Asahi&Kiyoko friendship. Asahi and Ennoshita become good friends

-Asahi doesn’t understand the distance between Noya and his sisters because Asahi is very close to his

-It is impossible to embarrass Noya

-Asahi gets a lot of inspiration for his fashion designs from traveling with Noya

-Noya knows how to braid hair and likes to play with Asahi’s

-Asahi enjoys physical affection but dislikes overt PDA. Noya would happily climb Asahi like a tree in public if Asahi would let him

-Only Asahi calls Noya by his given name

-Noya knows he likes Asahi early on but Asahi’s panic (“omg someone LIKES me?? NOYA likes me?? My crush??”) at his confession prevent them getting together until after the Date Tech match (after Asahi rejoins the team).

-Noya is affected by wanderlust and that’s why he travels. Sometimes Asahi joins him. They get married in Canada during one of these trips. (I once read a fantastic asanoya fic where a significant event happened in Canada so Canada is my asanoya place now)

-Noya sends Asahi a postcard from every place he’s ever visited. Sometimes he’ll spend over half an hour trying to find the *best* one, only to buy them all and send them as a sort of big long letter. Asahi saves them all in a photo album that lives on the coffee table. (Some people have a coffee table book, Asahi has a photo album.)

-Noya prefers to top. The one thing he’s really uncomfortable with is being on the bottom (physically laying beneath someone and also sex).

KUROKEN

-Kuroken have a black cat and a calico and enjoy naps on the couch with the kitties. Kuroo has SO MANY pictures in his phone of Kenma curled around the kitties.

-Kuroo: “Love you.” Kenma: “Hate you.”

-Kenma CAN cook, but likes that Kuroo likes taking care of him

-Every game Kuroo has ever owned is multiplayer because he only games with Kenma

-Kenma’s favorite games involve critical thinking and puzzles. Kuroo enjoys watching him play

-Kuroo is an introvert masquerading as an extrovert. Kenma is an introvert. They enjoy quiet nights in.

-Kuroo has anxiety. Kenma always knows when Kuroo is anxious and how to fix it

-People make Kenma anxious. Kuroo makes himself anxious.

-Kenma’s nicknames for Kuroo are Kuro and Koroemon. Kuroo calls Kenma Kyanma and kitten

-Kuroo has been in love with Kenma for as long as he can remember, since they were kids. Kenma knows this, but doesn’t understand he feels the same way until Kuroo goes off to college

-Kuroo is the one who discovered Daichi’s lack of gag reflex. He’s delighted to learn that Kenma lacks one as well

-Kenma moves more slowly than Kuroo. He’s not as comfortable with physical affection and sex as Kuroo is. Their relationship progresses slowly, and Kuroo lets Kenma lead. 

-After Kenma’s confession, how he feels about Kuroo is one of the very few things Kuroo does not doubt or make himself anxious over.

-Kuroo can, will, and has go(ne) on and on and ON about Kenma until someone shuts him up. It drives Yaku up the fucking wall in high school.

-Kenma does a retro game stream once or twice a month made up of games he and Kuroo used to play as kids. Kuroo actually games with him on those days and Kenma’s followers are quick to notice and speculate because Kenma has literally never gamed with another person in the same room before. Sometimes Kenma can only post the actual gameplay because Kuroo ruined the footage of them by being excessively sappy. (Kuroo is NOT above flirting and dirty talk to get an edge and Kenma doesn’t really think his fans need to know that.)

-Kuroken do not talk about Kuroo’s mom or sister

-The Kozumes love “Tetsu-chan” and Kuroo’s grandparents adore Kenma. Kuroken get along with each other’s families better than they do their own.

-Kuroo is tactile. He’s that ass-slapping friend. Kenma thinks he’s ridiculous

-Kuroo used to be dislike Hinata, because Kenma and Hinata are extremely good friends and Kuroo was afraid Hinata would take Kenma away from him. Kenma has assured him he doesn’t like Hinata like that but Kuroo doesn’t warm up until Hinata starts dating Kageyama

BOKUAKA

-Akaashi is 100% in charge of the house and the financials and his word is law. Not because he’s an asshole but because Bokuto is whipped

-Akaashi is a screamer. Bokuto has a big dick.

-Bokuto is the calmest between him and his sisters. His sisters have formed an Akaashi fanclub

-Bokuaka kiss a lot during sex

-Bokuto fucking loves owls

-Akaashi used to be embarrassed over being a manga editor but Bokuto thinks it’s the coolest job ever, “even better than mine!” When his authors need references, Akaashi sends them pictures of Bokuto. Bokuto takes this responsibility very seriously

-Bokuaka exclusively refer to each other by first name but Akaashi can’t break the habit of using -san

-Akaashi and Kenma are very good friends. Bokuto thinks they might even be better bros than him and Kuroo. (Kenma is one of the few people Akaashi calls by first name, and one of the only people who calls Akaashi by his.)

-Akaashi overthinks as a result of anxiety, but he doesn’t think he has anxiety. He prefers to call it “seeing the issue from all sides”

-Akaashi and Bokuto do yoga together. Bokuto behaves himself surprisingly well around Akaashi in yoga pants

-Akaashi decided to attend Fukurodani after watching Bokuto play and literally for no other reason

-Bokuaka are the embodiment of love at first sight and their relationship has an unreal, almost storybook quality to it because they are literally perfect for each other. Because of this, Bokuto doesn’t understand why other people struggle so much to start and maintain a relationship, no matter how many times Kuroo tells him “just because your relationship is straight out of a movie doesn’t mean the rest of the world works like that”

-Bokuaka have a koi pond in their backyard and have named all the fish. Bokuto always asks about them when he’s away for games

IWAOI

-Iwaizumi cooks and cleans because he’s always been the one taking care of Oikawa, but he refuses to fold the laundry because “I’m not doing everything for you, you fucking freeloader”

-Iwaizumi cooks healthy “old man food.” Oikawa’s sweet tooth suffers

-Oikawa is that guy who puts more cream and sugar and other additives in his coffee than actual coffee. He’s tried all of Starbucks’ seasonal drinks and never gets the same thing twice

-Iwaoi have very heated arguments about if Godzilla can kick King Kong’s ass or not. Iwaizumi of course sides with Godzilla

-Iwaoi once fought about the original purpose of Stonehenge and now no one can mention England without it coming back up

-Oikawa only became comfortable with his glasses because Iwaizumi likes them

-Iwaoi have been friends since they were in diapers. The whole volleyball team took bets on when they’d announce their relationship

-Both the Oikawas and the Iwaizumis respond when either boy calls for mom or dad. Oikawa calls his sister Nee-chan while Iwaizumi says Oneesan

-Iwaizumi’s favorite of Oikawa’s features is his legs. Oikawa is in love with Iwa’s arms

-Neither of them can remember when they started liking each other or how their relationship started

-Iwaoi are shockingly codependent and do NOT do separation (during university in Argentina/California or for away games) well

-Deep down Oikawa is extremely insecure and worries he isn’t enough - in volleyball, in school, in his family, in his relationship. Iwaizumi always knows when he’s putting on a front and how to cheer him back up

-Iwaizumi is secretly so soft and weak for Oikawa

-After the Olympics Iwaizumi moves to Argentina to be with Oikawa and they get married. They move back to Japan after Oikawa retires from volleyball and after gay marriage becomes legal there

-Oikawa keeps various plants around the house and the patio and is extremely proud of them. He paints all their pots and even names some of them (which Iwaizumi thinks is disgustingly cute). His most prized plant is a lucky bamboo he bought on a whim when iwaoi first moved in together.

-Oikawa can’t deepthroat. It makes him so jealous that Iwaizumi can

-Iwaizumi blushes whenever Oikawa gives him a genuine compliment

-Iwaizumi has a praise kink. Oikawa has a “whatever comes out of Iwa’s mouth” kink

-Iwaizumi has dom tendencies.

[kingreywrites]

Some Kind Of Change

@riverxdoctorforever​ sorry, this ended up focusing on new dream wedding fluff a lot more than anticipated fgshjdsk Cassandra does come though, and I hope you’ll like it!!

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 1922

Summary: A lot of people would be appalled at this image, Eugene thinks distantly - appalled at them, taking a break from the biggest event the kingdom had known in decades, which is also coincidentally their own wedding; at Rapunzel, the Princess, sitting on the grass shoeless with a priceless white dress which could easily be stained. But what Eugene sees, instead, is the love of his life -his wife now!-, radiant precisely because she's not what people expect of her. What he sees is Rapunzel being free, and happy, and in love, and he's struck all over again by the fact that it's him she's looking at with so much fondness.

Read on ao3

"We've got approximately five minutes before the entire kingdom collapses because of our absence," Eugene announces jokingly after closing the door to the gardens behind them.

"Five minutes?" Rapunzel laughs, already skipping over one of the trees as the moon shines bright over them. "When did you become an optimist?"

As she says that, she reaches the tree and sits under it, her beautiful wedding dress scrunching up with the movement. A lot of people would be appalled at this image, Eugene thinks distantly - appalled at them, taking a break from the biggest event the kingdom had known in decades, which is also coincidentally their own wedding; at Rapunzel, the Princess, sitting on the grass shoeless with a priceless white dress which could easily be stained. But what Eugene sees, instead, is the love of his life -his wife now!-, radiant precisely because she's not what people expect of her. What he sees is Rapunzel being free, and happy, and in love, and he's struck all over again by the fact that it's him she's looking at with so much fondness.

When did he become an optimist, she asks?

"Probably when you first hit me with your frying pan," he says, and he can hear the overwhelming affection in his own voice. Rapunzel smiles, lighting up his life with her happiness, and he can't go sit next to her quickly enough, not caring about the state of his clothes either. She takes his hand in hers, putting her head against his shoulder, and he thinks life can't be more perfect than now.

"We're married," Rapunzel tells him breathlessly, fiddling with his ring carefully.

"We are." He looks down at her face, and sees the way her eyes are shining as she plays with his hand gently. His own eyes feel a little wet at this, because the days when he could control his emotions are long gone, and he still can't believe how terrifyingly wonderful it is to love and be loved by Rapunzel. He's her husband.

Time seems to be passing too quickly and soon, he knows they'll have to go back to the party - but for now, it feels like it's only the two of them, sitting outside with the fresh evening air, revelling in each other's company, like they will do for the rest of their lives. Yup, his eyes are definitely wet now.

"This is the best day of my life," he repeats, because he had already whispered it in her ear when they had their first dance together, and the sentiment holds true.

She snuggles closer to him, smiling, and whispers "It's mine too", only for him to hear. But he also sees the frown she lets appear for barely a second; he feels her shoulders slump fractionally against him, before she stops herself. And Eugene didn't wait to get married to understand Rapunzel more than anyone - he knows exactly what's bothering her, what she's trying to hide even now.

"Cassandra's going to be here tomorrow, Sunshine."

"Am I that obvious?" she laughs, before shifting to lay her head on his legs, gazing up to him from this new position. Gently, he fixes the crease of her dress near the collar, and takes that chance to move one rebellious strand of hair out of her face.

"I know you," he laughs, "and, don't repeat it, but I wish she had been here too."

Going by the emotion in Rapunzel's eyes, he knows she may not repeat it, but she's definitely going to paint it somewhere. To be truly honest, he can't even pretend to be annoyed - he is sad that Cass wasn't here today. They had planned everything months ago, and she had assured them she would come back a few days before the celebration. But, a week ago, a storm prevented her from taking the boat she had planned to use, and though she could still make her way to Corona thanks to Fidella, it delayed her enough that she knew she wouldn't be there on time.

Her letters -because yes, she writes to Eugene too, even if it's less often than to Rapunzel- were deeply apologetic, and Eugene has no doubt that Cassandra wishes she could be here too, that all three of them regret the circumstances. While Rapunzel doesn't want to complain, he had seen all day through these little hesitations and quickly hidden frowns how much she was missing her best friend.

"Do you think she would have enjoyed running after the cake?" he wonders aloud, trying to lighten the subject, and he manages it when Rapunzel can't contain her giggles at the idea. That was certainly a moment they won't ever forget, and that no one had anticipated.

"I'm hesitating between her catching the cake, and her standing around and laughing at you," Rapunzel finally answers, brushing out the tears at the corners of her eyes.

"You're definitely underestimating her ability to do both."

Rapunzel laughs again, and they spend the next minutes debating this scenario, before recounting the events from not even a few hours ago. They lived through practically everything together today, but hearing Rapunzel describes the day still feels inherently different from what he has experienced. He loves to see her face liven up as she talks, loves to see a blush grow on her cheeks with the cold and the excitement she can't contain.

He loves her. The word doesn't feel like enough to describe his feelings, and yet says everything essential.

Soon, they realise that they have to go back to the party. They already took so long, and Eugene is sure that his in-laws are the only reason no one has come to bother them yet, but the peace won't last and, anyway, they want to have fun and dance again - they just needed a little break. Eugene already feels more energised than before, and he's about to joke something about it, when a movement on his right distracts him. When he looks, an easily recognisable silhouette makes him smile even more than he was already.

"Looks like your last wedding gift is here, Sunshine," he says, amusement shining through his eyes and turning into a real chuckle when Rapunzel scrambles to her knees, and gets a glimpse of Cassandra - who looks just as surprised to see them here. If Eugene had to guess, he'd say she probably wanted to sneak in and change before coming to the party, and hadn't expected to find anyone in the gardens, least of all the bride and the groom themselves.

"Cass?" Rapunzel whispers, incredulity and happiness plain to see on her face.

The scene seems to be frozen for an instant, as Cassandra looks at her with as much wonder as she does, eyes softening visibly even from a distance. She lets the bag she was carrying fall to the ground, and opens her arms herself, inviting Rapunzel for a hug before she can try to ask if Cass wants one.

"Hey, Raps," is all she manages to say before Rapunzel literally pounces on her - and despite her preparation, Cassandra falls to the ground with her in her arms, both of them laughing.

Eugene gets up too, cheeks hurting from how hard he's smiling. Rapunzel's joy makes his heart flutter like nothing else ever does, and he's so glad that she's going to have exactly the wedding she wanted, with her best friend at her side too.

"A hand?" he jokes, when the hug ends and Cassandra and Rapunzel are still sitting on the ground. Cassandra raises an eyebrow, but even she can't maintain their usual game of pretend, and grabs his hand as Rapunzel jumps up by herself.

"Did you finally learn manners, Fitzherbert?" she asks without any heat, and he gasps dramatically, putting one of his hands over his heart while Rapunzel grabs the free one.

"I'm sorry, but I'm Eugene Der Sonne now." Saying it out loud always makes his heart skip a beat, and going by the way Rapunzel squeezes his hand, hers too. He didn't have to change his name, they could have found a way around the tradition, but there's something truly special in the way Rapunzel will forever be a part of his identity now - and though he spent a lot of these last years trying to reclaim Fitzherbert, he can't wait to explore this new path with Rapunzel, as her husband.

"My god are you two sappy tonight," Cassandra groans, and it's so unexpected that they all laugh.

"It's our wedding Cass, what did you expect?" Rapunzel retorts, and they begin to make their way back inside.

As they talk, Eugene takes in Cassandra's appearance - she looks tired, probably from riding all day to be there before midnight. Except for that, though, she looks… Good. Happy, in a way she hadn't been when she left. He notices a new scar near her ear, but her adventures are probably a subject for another day. Anyhow, it's a relief he didn't know he needed - he was hoping Cassandra was okay out there, but having it be a certainty feels like a weight off of his shoulders.

"Oh!" Rapunzel exclaims. "I have an outfit ready for you Cass!"

"Uh," Cassandra cringes, and Eugene knows she's looking for excuses, her hatred of dresses only inferior to her hatred of fancy ceremony dresses.

"Don't worry, it's a suit!" Rapunzel says. "If that's okay? It has little swords on the cuffs."

Of course that convinces her, and before Eugene can even realise what's happening, Rapunzel is off to find the suit, and he's alone in the hallways with Cassandra, who looks as stunned as he currently feels.

"She didn't change, did she?" Cass sighs, the gleam in her eyes betraying her true sentiments on the matter.

The thing is, Rapunzel did change, they all did. They grew, and learned, and became better people because of what they went through. But once all was said and done, once Rapunzel saw how cruel and dangerous the world could get, she still chose to see it for its beauty, letting her optimism guide and inspire others too. So she did change; and she didn't, in a way. Eugene thinks Cassandra knows that.

"I'm glad you're here," he says, giving her a light push with his shoulder, for which she glares at him as if he just killed someone.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," she snorts, pushing him back two times harder, drawing a yelp and half-hearted protestations from Eugene. "I'm only here for Rapunzel. And the cake."

"Ah! Do we have a story about that!" Eugene exclaims, and like that, they start talking about what she missed, the jokes flowing between them natural and oddly comforting. Soon, Rapunzel will be back with the outfit, and they'll have to go back to the party and explain why they disappeared for so long, but for now it feels like nothing has changed, while everything has. Perhaps that was how Eugene would describe his wedding - nothing had changed, because they had loved each other way before any ceremony tried to make it official, but everything had, from his name to the ring now adorning his finger. This is the best day of his life because he knows it's the beginning of many others that he can't wait to discover at Rapunzel's side.

His smile must have been a little too sappy again, because Cassandra makes a fake gagging noise and he has to chase her down the hall to make her regret it.

[jalapeno-princess]

For Your Eyes Only

Mark Tuan x Reader

Genre: Extremely cheesy and sappy fluff

Summary: After a night of drinking with the rest of Got7, Mark calls you while drunk and can’t help but admit how much he misses you while he’s on tour.

A/N: Based on the song “If I could fly” by my first true loves One Direction.

If I could fly, I'd be coming right back home to you I think I might give up everything, just ask me to Pay attention, I hope that you listen cause I let my guard down Right now I'm completely defenseless For your eyes only, I show you my heart For when you're lonely and forget who you are I'm missing half of me when we're apart Now you know me, for your eyes only For your eyes only

The vibration against your head abruptly woke you from your sleep. You searched for your phone that you placed behind your pillow before you went to bed and took a few seconds to come to your senses before checking to see why your phone was going off.

Your heart warmed when you realized your boyfriend was trying to FaceTime you. Dating a Kpop idol could be difficult sometimes. The long distance, going days without getting to speak to each other and the rumors that surrounded your boyfriend made things a bit challenging. However, the love you had for Mark was stronger than anything negative that tried to get in the way of your relationship.

Mark had been extra clingy towards you in the past few days, constantly calling you and texting you; reminding you of how much he loved you, missed you and wanted nothing more than to be by your side again. Got7 had just started the beginning of their world tour and no matter how many times Mark had asked you to go with them, being a full time college student with a full time job ultimately prevented you from doing so.

He and the rest of the guys were currently in Paris, which meant that you were a day and six hours ahead of him. You were sure Mark was fully aware of what time it was, so he knew that you were sleeping. The two of you had gotten off the phone just a few hours ago, so you were worried that something bad happened. When you finally answered his FaceTime call, you knew right off the bat that your boyfriend was drunk. His glossy eyes, the pink in his cheeks and the huge grin on his face easily gave him away.

“Hey baby. How are you? What are you doing?” Although a part of you was irritated that he woke you up, even more so because he was clearly intoxicated, seeing him made your heart flutter.

“I was sleeping.” The frown that replaced his bright smile made you snicker.

“Shit y/n. I’m so sorry. I can call you back later. I just really miss you.” You released a long sigh and gave him a sad smile. Mark wasn’t one to drink. But when he got drunk, he always had his reasons for doing so. Either the guys went out to drink and handed him one too many glasses of wine, or he had something on his mind.

One of the main reasons as to why Mark was so in love with you, was because he felt safe with you. He told you every little thing about himself. From his dreams and goals, to his worries and insecurities. You knew him like the back of your hand. You could tell when something was wrong just by the intonation of his voice. Sure, he probably was out with the guys having fun and exploring the streets of Paris, but he wasn’t the type to get really drunk.

“I miss you too babe. You’re drunk aren’t you?” He was quick to nod in agreement and you couldn’t help the smile that crept up on your face at the sight of his wide and doe like eyes. Mark never admitted to things all too quickly, but being the lightweight he was, all it took was two beers for him to tell you all his secrets.

“I’m bothering you aren’t I? Wait hold on.” He put you on pause for a few seconds and your curiosity rose when you heard him groan. “Shit baby. It’s almost 3 in the morning where you are. I’m sorry. I’ll call you back tomorrow.”

You shook your head in attempts to let him know it was okay. Even if he was drunk and probably wouldn’t remember this conversation tomorrow morning, you savored every minute you got to talk with him. It didn’t matter to you that you had to wake up in just a few hours to get ready for school. Mark was your main focus in the moment and it made your heart flutter knowing he wanted to talk to you even if his mind wasn’t completely all there.

“It’s fine Mark. I want to talk to you. How’s Paris so far? And how much did you have to drink?” He shrugged.

“You already know that no matter how amazing these cities are, they have no meaning to me without you by my side. I can’t completely enjoy the so called “city of love” without the love of my life with me. I had a few glasses of wine. No big deal. I’m fine baby. Don’t worry about me.” You heard some shuffling coming from behind him and smirked when both Jinyoung and Yugyeom appeared on the screen.

“Hey y/n. Mark’s drunk because he misses youuuuu. He won’t stop crying over you. It’s honestly so disgusting how cute the two of you are. Why is it so dark? Where are you?” Jinyoung shoved the younger boy out of the frame and waved at you.

“Sorry about them y/n. We just got back from a wine tasting and as usual, all of the guys excluding me and Youngjae are drunk. I’m sorry if Mark woke you up. And as much as I hate saying this, Yugyeom is right. Mark wouldn’t stop talking about you and how much he misses you as we were walking around. That boy is head over heels in love with you y/n—ow! What? It’s not like she doesn’t already know.” Heat immediately rose to your cheeks and you felt yourself smiling widely at Jinyoung’s sudden outburst. No matter how many times Mark told you he loved you, hearing someone else say it sent fire to your bones.

“Okay, can you guys leave my girlfriend and I alone now? I’d like to talk to her without you idiots interrupting us.” The two boys scoffed while saying their goodbyes, leaving you and your boyfriend to yourselves. You could tell with the way he was furrowing his brows and sighing every so often that something was bothering him and you wouldn’t be able to sleep without knowing everything was okay with him.

“What’s on your mind my love?” He pouted slightly before repositioning his body so that he could lean in to his palm while talking to you.

“I um—I’ve been having a rough couple of days I guess. There’s so much going on and so many people are telling me how to live my life and they’ve been giving me their opinions of how I can better myself as an idol I guess—I’m sick of it. I know I’m considered to be the polite and quiet one, but at the same time I’m tired of people taking advantage of me and walking all over me like I’m nothing. As if I don’t have feelings myself. And it makes things worse that you’re not here with me to make all of this shit go away.” It didn’t take you long to notice the tears building up at the brim of his eyes and it was times like this that you really wish you were with him at the moment. Your boyfriend was a very sensitive guy, something you loved a lot about him.

There were times that the two of you would be lying together in bed with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist and his face buried in to the crook of your neck. These were the times, in the wee hours of the morning that Mark would pour his soul out to you. 3:00 in the morning heard all of his secrets, worries, inconsolable sobs and upsetting confessions. Although it hurt seeing Mark so fragile and vulnerable, those were some of your favorite times spent with him because you were the only one who got to see moments like that. You were the only one who got to see Mark 100% raw, emotional, frustrated with life and as much as you despised seeing Mark so upset, especially because you knew he deserved nothing but happiness, you were extremely grateful that he trusted you with his inner demons.

You wanted nothing more than to reach out to him and pull him in to your arms, letting him know that everything was going to be okay. But all you could do was listen, and tear up with him.

“I really want you to hold me, kiss me and tell me everything is going to be okay. I’m sorry baby. I didn’t want to burden you with my problems when I know you have a lot of your own. And I’m sorry for being away all the time. That’s another thing that’s bothering me. I can’t stop thinking about how I’ve been a shit boyfriend and how you deserve better. You deserve the entire world and more y/n, I cannot fathom this enough. Sometimes I’ll lie in bed and think about how you’re all alone, and I can’t stop being plagued by the thought of you suffering all by yourself. The thought of you crying over how stressed you are with work and school breaks my heart. Have I ever thanked you for all that you do for me? For everything you had to sacrifice in order to be with me? For all those late nights and early mornings you had to stay up just to talk to me while I was away? I hate nothing more in this world than being away from you. The distance fucking sucks y/n. If I could fly, I’d come right back home to you. You know that right? I would do anything for you. Be anything you want me to be. Hell, if I could, I’d drop everything in order to spend the rest of my life with you. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, or who I have to thank for bringing you and I together, but I’d do it again every single time if it meant having you in each and every life time. You are my person y/n. I love you with every fiber of my being.”

You were quick to bring your fingers up to your cheeks and wiped away all your tears. One of the only reasons why you weren’t a fan of when Mark drank, was because he was completely honest with you and would say things that made your heart combust. Although he couldn’t really see you, he giggled softly when he heard you sniffling. “You asshole—you made me cry.”

His laughter soon filled your room and you could feel a smile creeping on to your face. Mark’s laugh was contagious. It was one of your favorite sounds in the world and you were pretty sure it could cure cancer. You loved being the cause of it, especially in situations like this where it didn’t seem possible for him to emit such a beautiful sound while he was so upset.

“I—I don’t even know how to respond to that you should honestly become a writer. Leave Kpop and go write a novel or something.” He beamed at you while motioning for you to continue.

“You really have a way with words my love. I’m not going to lie, the distance is extremely hard. I hate not being with you, I’m happiest whenever you’re by my side. All my problems seem to magically disappear by a simple kiss. Just holding your hand gets me to take my mind off of everything negative going on in my life. But I would rather have a long distance relationship with you, than to be in a relationship with someone else I get to see every day. I would sacrifice anything for you, you know that. I don’t care that you’re going to sleep when I’m about to wake up or vice versa, just hearing your voice makes my entire day. The mere thought of you sends a warm feeling in my tummy. Sometimes, I have a hard time believing you’re real; that you exist and that you’re all mine. You’re living out your dream Mark and I am very grateful that I get to see you do what you love so much—“

You heard him mutter something under his breath and you looked up at him in curiosity. “I love you more than anything else on this hell forsaken earth, but yet I’m not doing you. Fucking blows.” You couldn’t help the giggle that fell from your lips and playfully bit your lip. He couldn’t help himself, alcohol did make him brutally honest.

“As I was saying horndog, I’m extremely proud of you. You’re so hard working, extremely talented and have one of the most generous and kindest hearts ever. I’m sorry that people feel the need to voice their unnecessary opinions, and I hate the fact that people take advantage of someone as amazing as you. But you know why the do it right? They’re just jealous. All these people who start rumors and spread hate about you, they’re sitting behind their computers angry with your success because they haven’t accomplished even a third of what you have. The people you work with, your managers, producers, writers and even JYP himself, I know they want what they feel is best for you. But sometimes, keeping their feelings to themselves is what’s best.”

A tear slipped from his handsome face and you wanted nothing more than to kiss it away, but it was just going to have to wait.

“You’re a human being baby. It’s alright to make mistakes. Nobody is perfect. That’s something I hate about the industry. Someone is always going to point out an idol’s flaw that no one else considered a flaw just to make them feel bad about themselves. Idols are painted out to be these perfect individuals, but I think everyone forgets that you guys have feelings. You guys have your problems, worries and insecurities too. Please Mark, don’t let these words get to you okay? Just remember, at the end of the day, you’re getting to perform for your amazing fans who love you dearly alongside your six best friends. That’s all that matters baby. These people sitting behind their phones and computers have nothing better to do than to try and make you feel bad about yourself for no reason. Don’t let them. They love that. Don’t give them the satisfaction knowing their words affect you. And as for your management and all those people who have been targeting and belittling you, just keep practicing hard and improving your craft. Sooner or later, they’ll finally come to their senses and realize the kind of person that you are. You are a special being my love. Remember that.”

Mark was full on sobbing at this point, he didn’t know what he did to deserve you. You would always voice to him how you were insecure about your relationship because you never felt like you were good enough with him. Your boyfriend was surrounded by countless models, actresses and fellow idols and you didn’t think you reached their standards. However, Mark would never fail to remind you both physically and verbally just how much he thought you were the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid his eyes on and how you were the only girl who he’s ever loved before.

You had this effect on Mark, you could walk in to a room crowded with people and his eyes would naturally gravitate towards you. His heart yearned for you and on nights like this, where he was in a different country, thousands of miles away from you, he could only wish he was currently back home, in your apartment wrapped in your embrace as you ran your fingers through his hair. That’s when he was at his most serene. He didn’t care where he was, as long as you were by his side, he felt like he was capable of anything.

Before either of you could speak up, there was a knock on his door. “Mark hyung, it’s time for bed. We need to get up in less than 4 hours and you can’t fall asleep during practice like you did last time. By the way, Yugyeom said you cried like a baby. Y/n, I hope you know how madly in love Mark is with you. My mom says that if a man cries over a woman, he’s in love with her. God, the two of you are so whipped for each other. Ow—Yugyeom warned me about the abuse. I don’t know why I wasn’t prepared for that. Night y/n! We miss you so much! Make sure you’re eating all of your meals and getting enough rest. Talk to you soon.”

Once Bambam left, you gave your boyfriend a broken look, causing him to frown. You were sure your eyes were swollen from the amount of times you’ve cried since answering his phone call over an hour ago. After a few moments, the two of you began to giggle at how puffy and red both your eyelids and cheeks had become. Mark released an exhausted sigh before blowing you multiple kisses. After countless love confessions and promises to call you tomorrow, Mark winked at you and blew you one last kiss. “In just a few more weeks, I’ll be coming home to you baby. Please wait just a little bit longer. I love you.”

As soon as he ended the call, you reached for the airplane ticket to Italy you purchased with the help of your 6 other favorite guys and held it close to your chest. “You’ll be seeing me sooner than you think my love, I can’t wait.”

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

End of the Line || Alain and Kaden

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @carbrakes-and-stakes and @chasseurdeloup

Kaden still felt like shit from the other night. He was damn sure he looked it, too. But he’d managed to shower and pick up a six pack of some local brewed beer and headed over to Evelyn’s place. As much as he wanted to stay home curled up in his bed for about the next week, at least he wasn't dying. Alain had it worse. He could suck it up and be there for his friend. Not like he’d get a whole lot of opportunity to in the future. Deep breath as he knocked on the door. Now that he was here, he wasn’t even sure what they’d talk about or what he should say. If he should tell his friend about the vision or let it lie. Certainly didn’t want to make the whole evening about all his bullshit he just went through. “Hey,” he said when the door opened. “I brought libations.”

“Hey,” he looked at his friend with a mix of grief and relief. Then glancing down at his own clothes, a plain white t shirt and a pair of shorts, he scoffed : “still did not get my hands on a butler outfit, I’m afraid,” standing to the side to let him in, he closed the door behind and showed the way to the backyard, which faced the sea. As far as places where to spend your last days were concerned, he had picked quite a lovely location. “So, your mother paid you a visit then?” The thought of his own father coming back from the dead to haunt him had often crossed his mind, although he never had to suffer through that, thank God. Alain let out a sigh as he sat down outside on the patio, looking in the distance.

“Shame. You know you should really take your job more seriously.” It was a half hearted joke but that was about all he could manage as Kaden followed him out to the backyard over looking the water. It was beautiful. And on any other day he might appreciate it more. Right now the sea felt a little overwhelming, the endless horizon, the crushing waves. It was all a weird reminder to him of the inevitability of fate for whatever reason. His mouth pulled into a thin line as he stood and watched it a moment before shaking it off and taking a seat. “She did.” The weight of it all was still heavy. Too hard for him to sort out all his conflicted feelings. Good a time as any to grab one of the bottles and crack it open with the edge of one of his knives. “Tried to kill me. A few times. Took over my body couple times, too.” He could still feel the seething hatred that had poured in along with her spirit. It felt like… like something he wished he could wash away. “It’s been a shit fucking week, that’s for sure.”

“I…” am sorry? Sure he was, but that was not going to be of much help to Kaden. From the moment they were born, hunters were taught that their life would be full of bullshit and nonsense, and used to dealing with crap by the time they were fifteen. So yeah, being sorry was not helpful. “Sounds lovely,” he sighed, leaning back in his seat and shifting to get comfortable. Alain, who had not been drinking for the past three months, took a glance at Kaden as he opened his bottle, and for a moment considered to remain sober. Dying was a good reason to break sobriety, still, he remembered his conversation with Morvern, and how she wished he could learn to be moderate with his drinking. “And Regan saw all of that?” He opened his own beer with the edge of the coffee table and sat back. “...” Staring blankly at the sea, Alain finally broke the silence after a long while, “It has been quite a shit week indeed.” He did not really want to bring the subject on the table, even though it was obvious why Kaden came here. He did not want to be the one to mention it. Denial, the same thing he resented Regan for. Almost mechanically, he brought the bottle to his lips and took a sip. Well, it tasted just like he remembered. Some things never changed.

“Oh yeah, lovely. Nothing like it, really.” There was too much being unsaid. But it felt stupid to waste any time that was left on whinging about how awful it was to know his parents would sooner kill him than see him make the choices he’d made. Did it need to be spoken anyway? It was pretty obvious. Even more so, Kaden figured, between two hunters. He took a chug of his drink. “She did. Well at least one of the many. My mother nearly forced me to kill her.” It played like a nightmare in his head, holding the knife to Regan’s neck, a hair’s breadth away from ending her life. Worse yet was knowing that if a past version of himself saw that memory without context, it wouldn’t be a nightmare. It’d just seem like a kill. His stomach churned at the thought. “Then she turned the knife on me. Almost made me-- Regan could see her the whole time.” Another chug. “This was right after she screamed, by the way.” Kaden wanted to take the bottle and chuck it, watch the glass shatter, hear the crash, feel the rush of just unleashing his anger. The anger he wished he didn’t harbor inside of him. So he bottled it up and kept sipping from the bottle instead. “Do you think you’d ever quit? From hunting, slaying? You know, given the choice?”

“You know,” pursing his lips, the hunter looked as if he was searching for the right words, the right thing to say, “I think that even though this was obviously traumatizing for the both of you,” once again, he paused, but his expression softened. He was glad that something like this had not drawn Regan away, as it would have many people. “The fact that she is still willing to be there for you and you for her, it means something,” pinching at the bridge of his nose, he glanced away from Kaden. This was a bit sappy, and not the kind of sentiment he usually was fond discussing. Not exactly in his habits. Alain took another sip instead, and another more as Kaden brought up the scream. A couple years ago, learning something like that would have brought him rage, and most likely, Regan wouldn’t have walked out alive either, but having spent the past years wondering when his time would come, he had slowly come to accept that he would die sooner than later. “Mmh?” He glanced back at his friend, and down, thinking. “You know, I have considered it. I think most hunters my age do,” even if he did not see himself continuing his life quietly, and living the usual mundane life many people enjoyed. The thought bored him, and his duty prevented him, always, from putting down his weapons for good. “I don’t know,” he looked over his shoulder. Evelyn wasn’t far, and while he did not want her to overhear this conversation, this was not what worried him here. What the two of them had was nice, but would he give up on his duty for her ? He could. He probably should, but… “Spawns are too damn dangerous… What about you?”

A deep breath and a nod. It meant something. Sure. That was true, the other man had a point. But Kaden knew damn well he was still lying to her and keeping secrets. Ones he was increasingly worried they couldn’t weather. Maybe she’d surprise him. She kept managing to. But that was neither here nor there. As far as he knew, he had plenty of time to screw up his relationships. Alain didn’t. Kaden pulled his mouth in a thin line and tried to contemplate the whole thing. It sucked. It just wasn’t fair. But there was nothing he could do. He nodded at his friend’s answer. Both of them grew up knowing about the hard life they were handed. It was doubtful this was the first time they thought about it. Curious to know Alain had gotten closer to walking away than he had. “I don’t know. It wasn’t ever really something I was given as an option. And I kind of keep figuring I’ll die before it becomes one…” Hunting had never felt like a choice to him or even an obligation. It was just who he was. Strip that away, and what was left? Even his day job was hunting in disguise with some bonus paperwork. But there was still that gnawing ache to just be able to pick up and leave the pain of hunting all behind. “I don’t know. I don’t think I could just have some normal life while I know what I know. Too many things out there killing people to rest easy.”

“I did not take you as the kind who waits for things to be given to him. You can’t wait for someone to give you this option,” he paused and sighed. “You know no one will ever give you that option. Only you can make that choice,” which made it a whole lot scarier. It was strange how something as mundane as a new career choice was so scary to a bunch of people who had been turned into killing machines from a young age. They all knew that one more or one less hunter did not make a difference, and still, none of them could agree to quit. Kaden was right. It was hard to know all they knew and look the other way, to sleep at night and at the same time wonder how many would die because you did not kill the thing that got them.  Alain did not make more comments on Kaden’s decision. “I think that after spending my whole life doing this, it’s either : I deserve some peace and quiet, or, I can’t see myself doing something else,” a tough decision, but not one he would have to take after all. “People asked me about Regan… A bunch of hunters, of course. I told them it was being taken care of,” he blew a raspberry. What a mess. Quel putain de bordel.

Kaden rubbed his hand against his face in contemplation before resting it there, leaning his chin against the edge of his fist. “Are genetics even optional?” Maybe it wasn’t right to say he felt tied down to this by family or bloodlines, even less so after recent events, but the fact remained he had enhanced abilities. Ones that were specifically there so that he could be a hunter. Somewhere deep down, saying hunting was an option still sounded to him like saying breathing was an option. The choices he laid out sounded accurate enough. Quit or die fighting. “I keep wondering if there’s an in between. Which is stupid. I don’t even know how you’d manage to be a half ass hunter. I mean, I know how you would manage,” he said, chuckling at his last line before taking a sip of beer. Had to lighten the mood a little, right? Couldn’t leave without some last ribbing. “Of course they did,” he replied. He knew hunters would start looking for her, especially if she kept screaming. All he wanted to do was make sure she was safe but if she kept losing control, it was inevitable she’d be tracked and marked. They could only throw other hunters off her for so long. And Kaden didn’t like the idea of what he might be forced to do, the decisions he’d have to make, if he came face to face with a warden looking to collect on a banshee. “Thanks for that. I know you didn’t have to lie. I’d even understand if you didn’t.” Especially now.

All Kaden got as an answer to that was a shrug from Alain. “Fuck genetics, I never speak of my family, because they were a bunch of A-class assholes,” now might have been a good time to open up about this. Who cared, after all. “I come from an ancient family of hunters, which you already knew. I think some of them still live in France,” he brushed it off with a dismissive wave of the hand, beer still in it. “Anyway, long story short, my dad had an affair, realized his kid was a hunter and that he had to take care of him, train him, which he did. But he never treated me like his child,” saying this felt like someone had removed a tremendous weight from his shoulders, even if this reminded him of a lot of bad memories too. The mention of Regan being in danger brought Alain out of his thoughts however. “I don’t know how this will go for her, but she’s going to have to be careful. I don’t think many wardens specialize in banshees, but one warden who does is enough,” this was not comforting, but Kaden could hear this. There was nothing new here either. He probably already knew this. “As far as I’m concerned, if all she does is predict death, her only crime is breaking glass and ears.”

It was stupid for him to assume that most parents wanted the best for their kids, especially in light of everything that just happened with his mother, but it still surprised Kaden anyway. “Shit. You never mentioned.” It just confirmed the feelings that he’d had for a while now; hunters make bad parents. At least the ones he knew did. He didn’t think he’d ever be much better and wouldn’t want to just up and die on any hypothetical children he may or may not have so just one more nail in the coffin on that slice of normalcy. “Guess there’s no such thing as a normal childhood when you’re a hunter, huh?” He shook his head. The thought of Regan being in danger sent a chill down his spine. He knew what henters were capable of. Hell, he knew what he was capable of. That was bad enough. And he was far from the worst out there. “They don’t have to specialize to give a shit. Cause I don’t know about you, but I thought banshees caused death with those screams up until a few weeks ago. I doubt wardens care for those subtleties.” Not to mention the reports Adam had shown him. The ruptured lungs. Talk of a death cult. It clutched at his chest, thinking about it. He didn’t think Regan was capable of that or like that. But what if Deirdre got into her head. What if that could happen if she failed to control a scream. He couldn’t pretend he knew. But he also wasn’t about to divulge that to his potentially dying friend. Not after he said he saw no threat. If that’s what he saw, then that’s what he saw. “Well at least you don’t have to worry about any of those glass repairs, right? Cheers to that?”

Alain rubbed his palm with his thumb idly, pressing it against the most callous spots as he listened to Kaden. Maybe he had not mentioned that before, that was very likely actually. Evelyn did not know a thing about Alain’s family aside from the fact that he no longer had parents, and that he had two sisters. Telling her more would have only led him into slipping and telling her more than he wanted to. “You say this like there’s a thing such as normal adulthood for hunters,” he scoffed, finished his beer and put the bottle down on the coffee table. Kaden’s words on wardens brought a frown to his face. It was not one of disapproval, as he completely agreed, but more one of discontempt. “I agree. I never really listened to vampires and zombies who claimed to eating only from animals and donors,” Alain might have considered fae to be a lesser threat than the undead, he also knew, to a certain extent, that he was biased. “On the other hand, if a warden doesn’t know that banshees don’t cause death,” he deadpanned. They may have been rare, they also were the most “famous” fae, if you put Tinkerbell and leprechauns aside. And, if he agreed to say that Regan was mostly harmless, Alain had big doubts concerning the one other banshee he had met. He did not mention it, and bit his tongue to stay quiet. And so, when Kaden changed the subject, he was more than glad. “Well I’m not going to cheer, but that’s a relief for sure. My clients must be pissed.”

“Fair enough,” Kaden replied. Pretending their lives were normal was definitely bullshit. No doubts, there. “Putain, I hate hearing shit like that. Like they’ll never lose control or have never taken a life. Like they didn’t already live a life and fucking died.” He’d heard it all before and he was sure Alain had heard that and worse. Too many bleeding hearts, too many undead afraid to face death final time. It might not be fair but neither was letting something live that feeds off humans and causes more harm than good. Why it was so hard for people to see that, he didn’t know. All he could do was sigh. They’d figured it out or the wouldn’t. Hopefully they didn’t have to die to learn a less-- The reality of why he was there hit him in the face. “Yeah. Well, I guess take what you can get at this point.” He didn’t want to say shit like he’d miss him or thanks for being a friend or anything overly sentimental or crap. He hoped it resonated, though. In the unspoken moments of all this. It was the best he could do.

[sign-from-god-complex]

take care

Summary: Roman is bad at self-care, especially when he's struggling with video ideas, and so Logan takes it into his own hands to make sure he’s properly looked after. And if maybe he went a bit overboard? Well, Roman deserved it.

Pairing: Logince

Warnings: Bad self-care (not eating or showering for an extended period of time) and a tiny bit of negative self-talk.

A/N: Every so often my brain will just want me to write the fluffiest, softest, most sappy thing it can think of. The last piece of writing produced from that was “The Purpose of Marriage, To Know That You Are Loved” and the next one is this, so here you go. Maybe it’s out of character, but maybe sappy, fluffy, dumbass logince is underrated and we should have more of these flustered idiots.

And hey! I finally wrote some logince!!! Took me long enough honestly.

Tag list <333: @mutechild @super-magical-wizard

AO3 Link

Roman couldn't think of a single creative idea.

Things had been pretty stressful for everyone recently, really. Thomas had done quite a bit of socialising over the last couple weeks, meeting up with old friends and trying to spend time with some newer ones, and it was reaching the point where even Roman was getting exhausted.

However, the unfortunate truth was that videos needed to be made no matter how busy Thomas's schedule became. Roman couldn't afford time off to relax, not when there was still so much to do before they were able to upload the next video. The fans were getting impatient and he absolutely needed to do right by them, but no matter how hard he tried, he simply couldn't come up with anything good!

Roman had casually pitched two or three ideas to the other sides over the course of the week, and every single one had been shot down for one reason or another. It was either too expensive, or there wasn't enough material, or it was too similar to something that they'd already done, etc. etc.

And those were just the ideas Roman had suggested; Roman had been brainstorming on and off for two weeks. Nothing he thought of was good enough and the increasing pressure as he became more and more aware of his time running out was not helping the situation in the slightest.

He scrunched up the notebook page he'd been writing on and flung it at all the wall, watching as it bounced for a moment before landing with the other scraps of paper he'd launched in that direction. Could they make a video related to throwing balls of paper around? No, Thomas was terrible at throwing things with any sense of accuracy, and anyway, that was hardly an idea. You can't make a video out of that.

Roman let his head fall against the desk—hard enough that he felt it, but not hard enough that he was giving himself permanent brain damage (like he needed any more obstacles in the way of a good idea). He let out a groan, hands coming up to tug at his hair. This was ridiculous! He was creativity! He should be able to do better!

No, he was sure he was able to do better. He just had to keep trying.

There was the distant sound of the door opening behind him as Roman began writing down more words in the hopes of sparking something. A video to do with... fruit? Something similar to the "No Sugar" Awkward Adventures video, but with eating fruit? No, that was a terrible idea. What about another Disney mashup? Shit, no, they just did one of those. They couldn’t-

"Roman...?"

Roman turned around at the sound of his name, aware that he likely looked absolutely atrocious. He hadn't slept all night—too busy brainstorming—and he couldn't remember the last time he'd taken a shower, which was honestly disgusting if he thought too long about it.

In the door stood his boyfriend, cautiously adjusting his glasses as he took in the scene before him. Roman, feeling self-conscious about the state of his room and the state of his attire, suddenly wished he'd had the forethought to lock his door. Not only would it have prevented this exact scenario, but it also would have resulted in less potential distractions. Ugh, what an idiot he was! It seemed he couldn't get anything right recently.

Logan's brow was furrowed and Roman wanted to go over there and kiss his forehead to smooth it out, prompting that fond look Roman so adored. He didn't get up though, too aware of the fact that it had been over a day since he'd eaten and if he passed out now Logan would never let him hear the end of it.

"Are you quite alright?" Logan asked, eyes bouncing around the room for a moment before landing on Roman.

Roman gave a facsimile of a confident smile. "I'm perfectly fine, my love! Just thinking through some new ideas, you know how it is."

As Logan crossed his arms, quirking a single unamused eyebrow at him, Roman knew that he was caught. Well, it’d been a good run. So much for doing YouTube because Logan was going to force him to rest and Roman was never going to have another good idea ever again. Thomas was going to lose every single one of his subscribers and they were all going to die because Roman couldn't come up with one creative idea.

"I know that look," Logan said, making his way over to Roman's desk, "You're catastrophising again. Stop that. You're not Virgil; you do not need to act as if the world is going to end with every minor inconvenience."

Roman threw his hands into the air and Logan ducked back to avoid being inadvertently punched in the face. "This is not some 'minor inconvenience', Logan! This is my entire purpose! If I can't bring inspiration to Thomas then what in the world am I good for?!"

Logan gathered up Roman's hands into his and brought them to his chest. Then, slowly, he leaned down and pressed his mouth to Roman's.

It was delicate and affectionate and Roman felt his entire body collapse, hands tugging away from Logan's grip to wrap behind his neck. After a moment, Logan pulled away. He hovered his face in front of Roman's and Roman watched as he scrunched up his nose.

"You really need to brush your teeth."

In a different scenario, Roman might have thought that Logan looked adorable when he pulled that face, but as it was, he was too busy being offended. To be fair, Logan was definitely right—brushing his teeth was another one of those things that’d been thrown to the wayside during his brainstorming—but he still shouldn't say it.

Logan straightened up and stared at Roman with a contemplative look.

"Come," he said, grabbing Roman's arm and dragging him in the direction of the bathroom, "We're going to get you cleaned up and then you're going to get some rest, and tomorrow I will help you with your next brainstorming session."

Roman raised his eyebrows. He'd been expecting the first part of course, but Logan virtually never helped with brainstorming. He said he found it too creative and unstructured for his liking and instead preferred to come in in the planning stages since that was when he was the most helpful. Logan had probably realised just how badly things were going for him—and his boyfriend wasn’t the most perceptive person, so Roman must really look terrible.

As they entered the bathroom, Roman realised for the first time just how exhausted he truly was. He let himself be positioned on the closed toilet lid as Logan began running a bath, meticulously running his hands through the water every so often to check that the temperature was appropriate.

Roman always favoured extremely hot baths and showers—as opposed to Logan, who mostly took showers that almost bordered on freezing—so when Logan winced as he put his hand into the water, Roman knew he'd found the right temperature.

After prompting him to brush his teeth, Logan went to gently remove Roman’s top. Roman was glad for the first time that he wasn’t wearing his usual princely attire; that shirt was a bitch to get on and off. He stood shakily as Logan went to tug down his sweatpants and as Logan pulled his underwear off, Roman looked down and gave him a wink.

Logan rolled his eyes. “You are extraordinarily fatigued and overworked, Roman. As if either of us could be thinking about sex at a time like this.”

“You underestimate me, darling,” Roman smirked—or at least he attempted to, but his face wasn’t doing any of the things he wanted at the moment.

Logan just gave a breathy laugh before helping Roman into the bath, kneeling at his side as he settled himself.

Roman sighed deeply and closed his eyes, the warmth of the bath seeping into his bones and establishing a home under his skin. He could hear Logan running something through the water beside him and he was startled slightly by the feeling of water running over his hair.

He opened his eyes to see Logan filling up a mug—Roman’s, with cartoon birds on it—with the bath water, before pouring it carefully over the back of Roman’s head. Logan pushed his hand through Roman’s wet hair before cupping his cheek and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Roman only had a moment to grumble that Logan was stealing his move before Logan whispered, “Shut your eyes, love. Let me worry about everything for now, alright?”

Logan didn’t use pet names very often, so Roman felt his blush was entirely justified. He did as Logan asked, however. It was hard to give up control—especially when he was as stressed as he was—but if there was one person Roman trusted to take care of him, it was Logan.

The bath passed in a haze of warmth and gentle fingers running over his skin. Occasionally Logan would murmur something under his breath, but Roman was too lost in complete exhaustion to really process any of it.

Once the bath had ended, Logan wrapped him in a big fluffy towel and tried to pat him dry, Roman lazily moving his limbs in a weary attempt to help out. He shivered slightly from exposure to the cold air and silently wished Logan would hold him until he was warm again.

“Here,” Logan said, presenting Roman with a set of pyjamas—and when had he had the time to get those?—”Put these on. I will be back momentarily.”

Roman watched Logan slip out the door before holding up the pyjamas to take a closer look.

Logan had grabbed his favourite pair of pyjama pants, decided upon as not only were they incredibly soft, but they matched his aesthetic perfectly—red and covered in cartoons of little gold crowns. Roman couldn’t exactly remember who’d given them to him. However, he had a vague memory of preteen Roman receiving them as a Christmas gift, followed by him immediately putting them on and not changing out of them for a week.

In place of the matching pyjama shirt, however, Logan had given him a hoodie. Upon closer inspection, it was revealed to be one of Logan’s two hoodies—the blue one Roman got paint splatters on. He chuckled lightly. His boyfriend was a dork. To his credit though, Roman was known to “borrow” items of clothing from Logan on occasion, and this hoodie was very cozy. Plus it smelled like Logan—like pine and paper and clean and safe and home (and probably a little bit like paint).

By the time Roman had thrown the clothes on, Logan had returned. He grabbed Roman’s hand, trying to carefully maneuver them across the bathroom floor to avoid stepping in any puddles and Roman could feel his face heating up again. It was silly to feel as flustered as he was over something that small, but his boyfriend was treating him so gently and he just couldn’t help it.

As they reentered Roman’s bedroom his blush only intensified.

The entire room felt transformed.

His bed had been made, adorned with layers of fluffy blankets (with some around the headboard so he could wrap them around his shoulders if needed) and his laptop laying in the centre. The piles of scrunched up paper littered around his desk had been removed and instead, his desk was clean with his notebooks stacked into a neat pile. And on his bedside table sat two mugs and a plate of toast, with what Roman would assume was Crofter’s spread on top.

But the most wondrous thing was that the lights were dimmed, any brightness he could see instead emanating from fairy lights that had been strung up around almost every surface. Roman also spotted a few candles and he could smell the faint scent of rose filling the room.

It was soft and awe-inspiring and Roman was absolutely astounded.

“You… did all this for me?”

Roman ripped his eyes away from the scene in front of him to face his boyfriend. Logan was watching him with an attentive look, eyes flitting up and down Roman’s face, seemingly searching for something. He must have found it because he cut his gaze away, ducking his head slightly.

“I had some help from Patton and Virgil, but I thought a more pleasing and relaxing environment would be conducive to helping you “unwind,” so to speak,” Logan said, failing to hide his blush in the wake of the adoring look Roman was sure he was giving him, “I also felt it imperative to bring you something to eat, as the likelihood that you were keeping up the recommended- mmph!”

Roman crashed his lips into Logan’s, cutting off whatever speech he had planned about Roman’s terrible eating habits. His chest was warm as he wrapped his arms around Logan’s waist, pulling them closer together and he smiled a little into the kiss.

Logan might seem at first glance like he doesn’t show any kind of affection. His endearments were sparing and though he may put up with Roman’s incessant need for physical contact, he rarely initiated anything himself. However, to claim that his boyfriend was uncaring would be—to borrow a term from Logan—an absolute falsehood.

Logan showed his affection in much more subtle ways that Roman did, and since the beginning of their relationship, Roman had learnt to look for them.

Logan liked to be helpful. If there was something you had to do but didn’t necessarily want to, Logan would almost always be willing to assist you. On occasion, he would even do the entire task for you, citing that “it wasn’t a big deal” and “it was really more for my sake than yours” in order to save face. Roman saw through that though, exactly the same way Logan saw through him.

On top of being helpful, Logan also just appreciated spending time with the people he cared about. He didn’t need to be doing anything in particular, more often than not Logan was simply reading, but his passive company almost meant more than his active company.

More than once Logan had arrived in Roman’s room, apropos of nothing, and sat down on Roman’s bed to continue his Agatha Christie novel. This usually occurred when Roman was working, so Roman would simply resume his work, distantly aware of Logan’s presence behind him as he did so.

Not a single word would be spoken between them until Patton called them down for dinner, but regardless, Roman would feel closer to Logan somehow. He knows how important time alone is for Logan. His boyfriend regularly gave up his personal private time to be around him instead and it made Roman almost giddy to think about what that really meant.

Looking at this evening through that filter, Logan’s actions were a blatant declaration of love. And so he’d responded the most Roman way he knew how.

He drew away, watching as Logan’s eyes fluttered open, the shock on his face made even more evident by the blush covering his cheeks. Roman wanted to kiss him again almost immediately, but he managed to refrain.

“It’s perfect. Thank you, Logan.”

Roman whispered the words into the small space between them and watched as Logan’s face went through about 5 different iterations of pleased and shocked, before settling on poorly faked indifference. Roman tried his best not to laugh; it really would have ruined the moment.

Logan cleared his throat. “Yes, well… you’re welcome, of course.”

Roman pulled his boyfriend over to the bed, instantly getting comfy under the blankets and ordering Logan to do the same—more because Roman wanted to use him as a pillow than anything else. In return, Logan handed Roman the toast, insisting that he eat. As he began to do so, despite his protests that he’d rather not get crumbs on his bed, Logan pressed play on the Disney movie he’d set up on Roman’s laptop.

Crofters, cuddles and Disney. God, his boyfriend knew him too well.

By the time the movie had finished, the toast was long since eaten, the hot chocolate Patton had supplied had been drunk and Roman was on the verge of falling asleep. His head was resting on Logan’s chest, Logan tracing patterns delicately over all the skin he could reach and Roman could feel himself tearing up slightly from all the emotions he held.

He let his eyes fall shut. “I love you.”

Roman faintly recognised that it was the first time either of them had said it from a romantic standpoint, but sincerely it didn’t matter because it was so overwhelmingly true that Roman just couldn’t keep it to himself anymore.

Roman could feel Logan stiffen underneath him before relaxing with an exhale.

“I love you too.”

And he’s sure that in the morning Logan will have some kind of lecture prepared about not being able to come up with creative ideas if you don’t take care of yourself first and foremost, but Roman wasn’t thinking about that. That was for tomorrow’s Roman to worry about.

No, for now, Roman simply let his awareness of his boyfriend’s breathing—the sound of his heartbeat and the steady rise and fall of his chest—lull him into a peaceful, dream-filled sleep.

[forever-rogue]

Valentine’s Day

A/N: was this necessary? No YES. I don’t like Valentine’s Day...and yet I love it. I feel like it would be even better with one of these babies. Enjoy!!

Gwilym

Let’s be honest, he’s a huge romantic and adores Valentine’s Day. He’ll take any excuse to shower you with extra love and affection. Although you don’t expect anything, you can reasonably guess he already has a whole, lovely day planned for the two of you.

You’d been out late the night before for work and all but collapsed in bed when you got home. Luckily, he had drawn a warm bath for you and gotten you comfiest pajamas out and ready. He just just wanted you to be comfortable and able to relax.

Naturally, the next morning he got up early, making sure to let you sleep in as he prepared breakfast for you (all your favorites of course - mimosas included), and set out a huge bouquet of all your favorite flowers, fresh from the florist.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my love,” he greeted you with a big hug and kiss as you padded into the kitchen, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Your heart fluttered at his sweet gestures - how did you get so lucky to have him?

After breakfast he told you to get go and get dressed, not telling you how fancy because the day was surprise, and he didn’t want to ruin anything.

And did he ever have a great day planned: he took you to your favorite museums and shops, wanting to the make the day all about you, even though insisted he didn’t have to do anything, and you telling him that you wanted to do something for him. He said it wasn’t necessary of course, just like gentleman he is. You vowed you’d figure out a way to repay him (wink wink).

He said he had dinner reservations for the two of you, but refused to tell you where. You were a bit annoyed, but excited, because when he made plans, they were PLANS. That boy went all out when it came to surprises.

He blindfolded you (you know he’s an extra boi) and didn’t say where he was headed. He helped you into the car, putting on your favorite playlist as he drove, while you just huffed at being in the dark (literally). It was a bit of a drive and you wondered what he was up to.

Turns out he has arranged plans to take you to the countryside, where he had booked a beautiful little cottage for the weekend for the two of you. When you got there you where overjoyed by the sweet gesture, jumping in his arms as he spun you around and you kissed him, peppering his face with soft little kisses.

He took your hand and led you to the back garden, where, to your shock and delight, he had dinner all set and ready in a beautiful gazebo that was illuminated with candles and fairy lights. This was clearly and elaborately planned.

“You did all of this for me?” you tried to keep from crying, but it was almost all too much. You know a few tears were going to come. He whispered a soft yes in your ear as he led you to the table, pulling out the chair and making sure you were comfortably seated. He could see you were a bit chilly so he slipped out of his cardigan and draped it over your shoulders. 

“I hope you like it? I thought you would...” he seemed shy and nervous, almost like he needed reassurance. How did he not realize this was absolutely perfect?!

“I love it. I love you, Gwilym Lee. This is absolutely perfect,” you leaned across the table and kissed his cheek and he lightly blushed. No matter how long you had been together, he still got all shy and awestruck by you. He adored you like you were the reason for all the stars in the beautiful night sky.

Dinner was amazing, followed by an even better dessert, which ended with you sitting in lap, as you talked into the wee hours of the morning, the two of you exchanging sweet kisses as you exchanged various stories.

The lateness of the night didn’t prevent Gwil from making love to you. Several times - it was slow and gentle but perfect. Everything about Valentine’s Day was absolutely perfect, because you had Gwil by your side. Lucky you.

Joe

Our Dino Boy has a love-hate relationship with Valentine’s Day. He hates it because it’s so commercial and superficial, but he also loves it because he loves you.

But you tell him you think it’s silly too, and that you don’t need a special day to show him how much you love him, it should be a daily thing, and that you know he loves you too. You both made it a point everyday to tell the other how much you adored them (Joe’s a big softy after all).

So the two of you agree that you won’t do anything special or get each other gifts - it’ll just be a normal lazy day in. Or so you thought, but Joe had other plans. That boy is full of surprises.

You two had stayed up late the night before, going out with some friends, and not returning home until the wee hours of the morning, giddy and buzzed. Naturally the two of you had slept in, not bothering to set an alarm. Instead you woke up around noon, nuzzled into Joe’s chest, legs tangled together, Joe’s arm draped around your waist. Your favorite spot in the world.

You decided to be naughty and wake him by pressing kisses to his chest, then neck, working your way along his jawline until you finally reached his lips. You thought he had been asleep, but you were wrong; instead he took advantage of the situation and pulled you on top of him so you were straddling his lap. Two could play that game.

Let’s just say: lazy day afternoon sex. Several Rounds.

When it was starting to get dark, and both of your stomachs were rumbling with hunger from prior activities, you finally decided to get up. Deciding you needed a good wash, you turned on the shower, pulling Joe in with you, quickly stripping both of yourselves of clothing before getting into the hot water. Followed by a round of shower sex (he can go for days - you drive him absolutely wild).

You finally got, opting just to change into clean pajamas, flopping on the couch and turning on Netflix. Joe had asked several times if you were sure you didn’t want to go out, but you insisted that staying in with him was perfect. You didn’t need much more than him.

Joe ordered a feast of pizza from your favorite place before sneaking into the bedroom. You put on The Office for the time being, but quickly grew suspicious when you heard crinkling and rustling coming from the bedroom.

Feeling too lazy to get up, you hollered down the hall, “Joey? What are you up to? You’re being too quiet!”

After a few moments of no response, you decided to get up and check in on him, but were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. You narrowed your eyes at Joe, before answering the door to find the delivery man standing there with several boxes of pizza, and a bouquet of roses.

You eagerly took everything from him, the biggest of grins on your face as you realized what he had done. Of course he had pulled a stunt like this! You set the boxes down on the table, quickly grabbing a vase and putting the flowers in it as Joe came back down the hall, his arms behind his back.

“I can’t believe you did all this! They’re beautiful, my silly dork,” you gave the flowers a fond look before turning to him, surprised to see a shy expression on his face. You tilted your head to the side, wondering what got him so worried, but instead, he removed his hands from his back and handed you a small, neatly wrapped box.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sugar. I know we said we wouldn’t do gifts, but I couldn’t help myself,” he explained as you ripped the wrapping paper off and opened the small box.

Inside was a delicate silver necklace, with a small dinosaur charm on it. You picked it up and studied it, her heart feeling like it was about to burst as you saw that it had both of your initials engraved on the back. You found yourself lost for words, but threw your arms around him, kissing him gently.

“This is the sweetest thing. I love it, I love you, Joey,” you whispered in his ear. He pulled back from you, a huge grin on his face as he helped you put the necklace on, admiring how perfect it looked on you - even you were you were just in pajamas, hair thrown into a messy bun, you were still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“Wait here, babe,” little did he know, you had a surprise of your own for him. Like you would miss the opportunity to surprise him. You sneaked into the bedroom, digging through your side of the closet, looking for the present you had hidden weeks ago. Grabbing it, you ran back to the living room and almost threw it at him in your excitement,

“What’s all this?” he asked, opening it with a smile on his face. His expression quickly changing into shock and delight as he pulled out the vintage Yankees jersey you had gotten him. You had seen at an antique store and knew he would love it - luckily you were right.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Joey,” you said as he stood up and gave you a kiss. You were glad he liked it so much. You rested your hand on his cheek as he studied you, wondering how lucky he was to have gotten you.

“I love you so much,” he whispered as rested your forehead against his.

The rest of the evening was spent with the two of you sprawled on the couch under the big fluffy blankets, watching cheesy rom coms as you stuffed your faces with pizza. But, in all honesty, there was no better way to spend the evening.

Eventually you had fell asleep, and Joe made sure to pick you up, ever so gently so he didn’t wake you, and took you to bed, making sure you were thoroughly tucked under the covers. You stirred a bit as he watched you sleep for a few moments, but stopped when he pressed a sweet kiss to the top of your head.

He joined you a few minutes later and, even in your sleep, you didn’t waste a moment before wrapping her arms around him and holding onto him tightly. He relaxed into your touch, wrapping you up his arms as he too drifted off to sleep. The perfect end to a perfect day.

Ben

Ben may not have seemed like a sappy romantic, but at heart he was. Especially when it came to you. So, as Valentine’s day approached, Ben assured you that something special was coming your way.

You abhorred the idea of Valentine’s Day, so you just rolled your eyes at him, telling him not to worry about it, and that it should be treated like another normal day. But Ben didn’t take no for answer, pressing a kiss to your lips as he made you promise you’d keep your schedule clear and spend the day with him.

When the day came, Ben came knocking on your door, bright and early, a big smile on his face, with Frankie eagerly awaited to greet you. You had been up early working, so you let him in, wasting no time in playing with Frankie and smothering her in kisses. Ben got some too, of course.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked once she had finally calmed down from her excitement. You raised your eyebrow at him suspiciously, but he knew you knew exactly what he was referring to. When he continued to stare you at, refusing to let you say no, you finally gave in.

It didn’t take long for you to enjoy yourself as he divulged that he was taking you to the seaside for a picnic and hike. Although you had been reluctant to celebrate Valentine’s Day, this was much better than expected, plus you had some pretty great company for the day.

Ben held your hand the entire time he was driving, gently circling his thumb over the back of it. He let you pick out the playlist, and you decided that the day called for the playlist you had made of yours and Ben’s favorite Queen songs...which just ended with the two of you singing along at the top of your lungs.

Once you arrived, you grabbed Frankie and let her roam about, keeping a close eye on her, as Ben unloaded a huge picnic basket stuffed with what would turn out to be all your favorites - champagne included, because of he would go all out.

“I guess this isn’t so bad,” you admitted as you bit into a chocolate covered strawberry. Ben just smirked at you as he reached over, wiping a bit of stray chocolate from the corner of your lips. He winked at you as he licked it off his finger, causing you to blush.

“I told you so,” was he retorted, causing you stick out your tongue at him. He just laughed, and Frankie gave you a small bark, as if she was agreeing with Ben. You picked her up and started murmuring in her ear before kissing her wet nose and telling her to pounce on Ben. She did as he was told, attempting to kiss and lick him all over. Which she got to do, because Ben wasn’t about to say no to his daughter.

As the sun started to set you, you let out a yawn, wrapping your arms tighter around Ben to stay warm, You had fallen asleep for a little while, listening to steady rhythm of his heartbeat as he held you and felt your eyes grow heavier, eventually giving in and drifting off to sleep. Ben didn’t wake you up, but held onto you as he executed the second part of his plan.

“Come on love, I think it’s time to start heading back,” Ben whispered quietly as you woke up. You yawned and stretched, nodding in agreement as you watched him start to pack everything up. You offered to help, but he refused to let you lift a finger, and you weren’t about to argue.

You held your hand tightly in his as you slowly trekked back to the car, Frankie eagerly pulling ahead, making sure she got her last sniffs of everything in.

“Love, can you grab her and put her in?” Ben asked you went to grab Frankie as he loaded everything into the trunk. You paused when you something stuck on her collar. You got grabbed it and pulled it off her collar, as she nuzzled your hand for pets.

It was a piece of paper, a note - you quickly opened it and scanned the words several times, to make sure you had read them correctly. Will you marry my Daddy?

You remained silent for a few moments, before turning around to find Ben standing by your side, down on one knee as he held open a ring box, displaying the most beautiful ring you had ever seen, “will you marry me?”

You didn’t know what to say at first, so you just nodded up and down, tears welling up in your eyes. He let out a small yes as he jumped up and pulled you into his arms, slipping the ring onto your finger. Frankie ran around excitedly, barking playfully at the two of you.

“I love you, Benny,” you finally whispered, grabbing his place and kissing him passionately. You bent over and picked up Frankie, giving her a kiss too.

At first you were you dreading this day, but now, now you were over the moon. And engaged to the man you loved. Maybe Valentine’s Day wasn’t so bad after all.

Rami

Neither of you were particularly here nor there in regards to Valentine’s Day. In fact, if it wasn’t splattered all over the media and in stores, you’d both probably would have forgotten about the holiday. You guys preferred to keep your relationship low key anyways.

But when you a group of your friends had invited the two of you along to a big dinner party that was happening, you figured that was a good enough celebration - with your love and your friends.

You both decided to dress up, because why not, and besides that, both of you were known for being sharp dressers. As you got dressed, a knock came at the door, and Rami excused himself to answer it. When he didn’t come back for a few minutes, you poked your head out of the bedroom door, only to find him coming back back with a huge assortment of chocolate covered fruits - your favorites.

“It’s not much, but it’s something. A little sweet for my sweet,” he grinned at you, that same expression you fell in love with on his face. How you adored this goofy man. You took a strawberry, taking a bite before popping the rest into his mouth.

“Thank you, darling,” you kissed his cheek. He gave you a cheeky smile before smile before going to store the rest of the delicious treats into the refrigerator for later.

You finished getting ready, Rami helping you zip up your dress. You smiled at him in the mirror as you studied yourself. Rami rested his head on your shoulder, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. You chuckled fondly at him, knowing in some ways he wished you both could just stay home and relax in bed.

“Come on, love. We should get going,” you whispered quietly and he agreed, taking your hand and leading you got of the room.

The rest of the evening was spent drinking, eating, and enjoying the company of good friends. The party seemed like it was going last for hours, these LA people had no sense of time it seemed, so you poked Rami in the side, whispering in his ear that you should get going home. You were both starting to get a little overwhelmed.

Rami wasted no time in agreeing with you, taking your hand as he weaved through the crowd of people, calling out a few goodbyes here and there.

Soon enough you were back home, dressed in comfy pajamas, a bottle of wine split between the two of you, and the fruit platter from earlier sitting between the you as watching some Netflix.

After a while, Rami had grown silent and you could feel his eyes on you as he studied you intently, watching your every move. Finally you couldn’t take it anymore, so you turned to him, running a hand over his cheek, “what? Is there something on my face?”

“No, you’re just as beautiful as ever,” he insisted. You gave him a puzzled look, wondering what he was on about, “you know I love you, right?”

“Of course I do,” you whispered back, and he seemed to let out a breath of relief, “what are you on about?”

“I just feel like I don’t do enough for you, make you know how much I love you,” he shrugged his shoulders, but you could see he was being serious. You moved the fruit out of the way as you turned to face him, kissing him softly before whispering back that you knew how much he loved and you never doubted his love and devotion to you.

“We’re not flashy people, darling, and that’s quite all right. I love you and you love me, and that’s all we need,” he felt a million times better with your reassurance. And you weren’t lying - he was all you needed, nothing more and nothing less. Even if you weren’t always broadcasting your relationship for the world to see you two had each other and that was everything to both of you.

He gave you the sweetest of smiles as he kissed you, holding your face gently in his hands, as he moved to lean over you. You could taste the sweet fruit on his lips, almost moaning into his touch. You knew exactly where this was headings, as it had done plenty of times before, but you weren’t about to stop him. Something about tonight seemed a little different - but perfect nonetheless.

[junk-yard-hearts]

Poly Bowers Gang HC’s

o lookie lookie 

Belch (I prefer calling him Reg or Reggie to Belch tbh)-

·         I see Reggie as more of the enforcer within their group dynamic.

·         The other guys can get kind of carried away and he’s the first to tell them to leave you the hell alone if he thinks they’re making you uncomfortable

·         After a thorough fucking he’s the one who’d gently kiss your temple and tell you how good you were

·         He always lets you sit in the front seat and glares over his shoulder at the others when they whine about it. As far as he’s concerned, it’s HIS car and you deserve the front seat, dammit. (He actually just wants to watch the sun hit your face and keep you away from Patrick)

·         The other guys give him hell because he’s so sweet on you but he just can’t help how much he adores you awe

·         The others laugh because you would never call him Belch and he blushes every time you call him Reggie

·         He’s the one you’d call after all your best friends stood you up for your girls-night-in sleepover plans. He’d hear your disappointed voice and the sniffles and sigh. He shows up at your house 20 minutes later with the fuckboy squad in toe.

·         You ask if he’d do a face mask with you and he looks panicked as fuck

·         But the second you hit him with those lovey eyes, he relents

·         The other guys sit around and snicker as you apply cerulean goo to his face but he couldn’t care less because the smile on your lips is everything to him tbh.

·         Henry tells him he’s such a girl, and Belch hits him with some “a real man would do anything to put a smile on his girl’s face” shit and Henry just slinks tf away

·         He drives you to school every day, and sometimes when your parents aren’t home, he comes in and eats breakfast with you and helps you finish getting ready.

·         He helps you pull your hair back and ties your shoes for you awawawe

·         Always opens your car door for you

·         You wear his t-shirts to school after spending the night with him and he gets all heart-eyed and thinks you look so cute.

·         He sees you in your faded jeans, with a bow in your hair, and his ratty Judas Priest shirt on and his cheeks get all hot cause he just thinks you’re the cutest.

·         For his birthday, you go to his house while he’s at work and you and his mom cook him his favorite dinner (chicken parmesan and fettucine), and you and the gang hang up a banner and surprise him.

·         You didn’t have much money so you made him a cassette mix tape and take them to the bakery on main street for cupcakes, and you all serenade him right there on the sidewalk outside the shop.

·         He tries SO HARD to keep up with your friend drama because he likes that you come to him to talk but fuck, you have so many friends. Who’s Trish?? Where tf did Emma come from? When the hell did Lisa come into the picture?

·         Takes care of you on your period like his mom told him to.

 Victor  

·         Vic is the one you go to about your friend drama and knows exactly what you’re talking about.

·         “Oh my god who does Lisa think she is talking to Gemma about you like that? I’ll kick her ass idc.”

·         Says goodbye with a firm slap on the ass

·         Smiles at the tiny squeak you make every time he slaps the ass

·         Always gives you candies out of the pockets of his vest

·         He says he keeps them to put a smile on your face and you know he stole that shit

·         Loves to rest his head in your lap and let you play with his hair

·         He gets this blissed out, barely conscious look when you gently scrape your nails across his scalp

·         Stares in slack-jawed appreciation when you wear those little skirts that sway when you walk

·         When you’re having a bad day, he paints your nails

·         He notices you getting nervous and scraping the polish off and just grabs your hand away and squeezes it.

·         Smacks Patrick over the head for making lewd comments about your body in public

·         “Dude, watch your fucking mouth, she’s a lady.”

·         You have study hall together, and you sit with your Walkman cassette player in between you, listening to KISS and holding hands, and reading your English class assignments

·         KISS is so not his cup of tea but he doesn’t mind them.

·         He knows you love them so he sits put and listens anyway

·         He learns all the words to all the songs on Smashes Thrashes and Hits from how often you listen to it.

·         You two smoked weed together and the guys found you laying outside staring at the clouds together being sappy

·         But he kicked their asses for making fun of it

·         You bleach his hair for him because he tried to do it himself and got burns on his head

·         You teach him how to put coconut oil through his hair to prevent burning, damage and uneven processing

·         Henry and Patrick laugh and look on, telling him how soft it is to dye his hair.

·         You turn around and tell them how harsh and dangerous bleach can be to the body and offer to put some on THEIR heads.

·         They scurry tf away

·         He loves to watch you masturbate, and loves when you wear lingerie for them.

·         When you and your boyfriends crashed a party, they went off to torture some people but you and Vic were making out on the stairs while all the girls with crushes on him watched

·         He lowkey loves showing you off at all times

·         For Christmas you made him the coolest sneakers he ever saw

·         You bought a pair of canvas kicks from the thrift store and spent hours painting them, and he fREAKED when he saw them

·         He loves when you wear that peachy smelling lipgloss but he always ends up with shimmer all over his mouth and the guys laugh at him. Worth it tho.

 Henry

·         You tell him you got your nails done and he gets this “The fuck are you tellin’ me for?” look on his face.

·         You frown. He realizes you just want him to act interested and suddenly he’s like AH YES, THE NAILS, THE FINGERNAILS YES THE NAILS ON THESE PARTICULAR FINGERS ARE LOOKING MIGHTY SPIFFY TODAY YES INDEED

·         He notices you painted them his favorite color and has to physically restrain himself from squealing like a schoolgirl because he loves that you love him lmao

·         Talks a major talk about what a ladykiller he is but the first time you take your clothes off and he sees your body in only soft lingerie he just stares in awe and appreciation

·         He thinks you don’t know (but you definitely know) he stole one of your silky pink camisoles and keeps it stuffed under his mattress.

·         He actually wasn’t being pervy, he holds it to him when he sleeps and breathes in that precious smell of delicate perfume and something distinctly you and it blisses him out no matter how stressed he is.

·         Always puts his arm around you in public or holds your hand

·         When its cold and you didn’t wear a jacket to school, he scolds you because he’s concerned for your health and comfort, and puts his jacket around your shoulders.

·         Will beat someone up just for looking at you wrong

·         Always is the guy who says he needs to “Defend your honor”

·         Its endearing but can be a bit much.

·         Always hitting Patrick for disrespecting you

·         Always being hit by Reggie for disrespecting you :^)

·         Is 90000% outraged when you confess an insecurity

·         “What on god’s green earth would you hate your tits for?! Have you fuckin seen them? Your body ‘so fine I’m havin to chase off every man in this damn town, cause they all want my girl.”

·         I think he’d be that boyfriend who if you wore a low cut shirt in public would walk around with his hand covering your cleavage cause that shits his eyes only thank you very much.

·         “Only yours?” you’d tease. “Damn straight.” he’d reply. “But what about Belch? N Pat n Vic?” you’d say, laughing. “OK, now listen here.”

·         Is totally fine sharing you but constantly refers to you as HIS girl.

·         Likes you to know who’s in charge.

·         One time you sucked his fingers clean after he fingered you and he is still recovering tbqh

·         Also one time you called him daddy in public and he came in his fccuccking pants.

·         You didn’t know what to get him for his birthday so you just had him over to spend the night and wore pretty underthings and had a night just the two of you.

·         You cut his hair. You’re always begging him to let you cut the fucking mullet off but he just won’t hear of it. He thinks he looks badass.

·         His hair is really soft tho and you put the mullet into a tiny braid and giggled endlessly.

·         He just quirked his eyebrow up at you and asked If he looked sexy.

·         Lives for validation

·         Tries to offer you aftercare but lowkey useless at it

  Patrick

Patricks are the dirtiest

·         Rarely allowed to be alone with you

·         Loves to say creepy shit just to watch you squirm

·         By far the most dominant and thinks aftercare is stupid lmao

·         He likes that you somewhat want to impress him

·         JEALOUS as hell of how much Henry adores you

·         And really, how much they all adore you

·         One time he got the sense that you might actually be real

·         Which freaks him out, and he can’t shake the feeling

·         He compensates for this by going out of his way to make you uncomfortable

·         Says creepy shit in public

·         Puts his hand up your skirt at the lunch table

·         More or less only touches you because he’s allowed to

·         He likes your hands a lot, he likes holding them, he likes when you touch him with them because they’re so gentle and soft

·         Comes and visits you at night because he just likes to be near you

·         At first it was unsettling but now you’re used to it and know he won’t try anything

·         As scared as everyone already is of the whole gang,

·         They’ll never fuck with you because Patrick is too damn scary

·         You had a one-on-one night once

·         The next day, the gang came over to hang out and you had welts on your chest from where Patrick dripped candle wax on you, bloodied bite marks on your collarbones and were limping

·         Belch punched him in the fucking face

·         He knows you probably liked it but the idea of Patrick getting too carried away without anyone there to stop him worries him

·         (I honestly think he’s just always looking for reason to punch Patrick lmao. If asked why, he’d shake his head and say “that boy ain’t right” mister fuckin hank hill)

·         He likes to brush your hair which is weird to the other guys but you seem ok with it, so…

·         The first time you met his mother she was visibly shocked that someone actually wanted to spend time around him yikes lmao

·         You wear one of his rings on a necklace because it slides off your fingers

·         Gets the roughest with you during sex and the guys are always wary of the fact that you actually seem to enjoy it.

Tip the author 

[askthebemorechillcrew]

Passed out (Michael Mell X reader)

Just for fun! Plus, this did happen last year with my boyfriend, me, and my best friend and her boyfriend.  

Author’s note: This takes place when everyone graduated college, and they all moved in together with their SO

What do couples do? Spend as much time as possible. Hold hands, kiss, cuddle, talk about how much we love each other. Now, what do different pairs of couples do? Hang out with each other, doing all the sappy stuff that I just listed. That’s what just happened with Me, Michael, Jeremy and Christine. It was a rough day at work, since my boss was dumping an avalanche of work on me. Look, just because I was on my phone all day, doesn’t mean that I wasn’t listening....okay...maybe it does mean that. But still! It was my first week! I went home that day, totally exhausted from my boss giving me a hard time. I flopped down on the couch, just wanting this week to end. But no...Monday’s had to exist! I heard my fiance, Michael, come out of his study, as he sat down next to me. 

“Babe, you’re back. How was work?” He smiled, rubbing my back. I sighed, allowing him to relax my tightened muscles. 

“A pain in the ass,” I weakly chuckled through the pain, wanting to be in his arms all week. He let out a laugh, as he kept massaging my shoulders. 

“I’m sorry, honey. Work hasn’t been a walk on the beach for me either. Neither has it been for Jeremy,” He related to me, moving his hands from my shoulders to my back. I smiled, leaning into his chest, listening to his heartbeat. 

“Yeah. How’s the game coming along, by the way?” I asked him. Michael and Jeremy were both CEO’s of their own gaming industry. They were working hard to create a new sequel to Neverquesters: The Ice Desert. The first game was so popular, both geeky gamers decided to create a second one. Michael shrugged, rubbing soft circles on my back. 

“We’re almost done with the 3D models, we just need to set up the perfect settings to move them and make them hold weapons. Other than that...well....we still have to think of the title, backgrounds, endings, player choices, and a bunch of other crap,” He snickered, resting his head on my shoulder. We both sighed in unison, wanting a break from the hell that was our jobs. Not that we hated our jobs, but we were given too much work on our first weeks, we just wanted a breather. After Michael finished giving me a massage, his face lit up, as if he had a great idea. My theory was proven true, as he grinned and told me what was on his mind. 

“I have an idea! How about we invite Jeremy and Christine over? Have a little couples night?” He asked me, his eyes begging me to say yes. It has been a damn long time since we last saw our best friends. Jeremy was also swamped with work, just like his best friend and fellow co owner of their company. And Christine, being the new drama teacher at our old high school, was still in process of writing the script to a new play her students were performing in a couple of weeks. 

“You sure? I don’t think I can afford a break, Mikey. I mean, I have to submit a report by Friday, and then file a paper about--” Michael cut my off by kissing my lips, allowing me to melt into him.

“See? It’s that kinda attitude that’s preventing you from taking a break. Please, princess. I promise it’s gonna be okay. It’s not gonna hurt to take one day off. All four of us need this,” He convinced me, begging me at this point. Michael was always worried about my mental health, he always wanted me to be a good mood. I huffed, knowing that he was right. I guess it wouldn’t harm anyone to relax for just one night. And what was better than hanging out with my loving husband-to-be and my best friends. I giggled and nodded. 

“Alright, but we need to make sure Jeremy and Christine are up for it,” I told him. His face glowed up some more, as his smile got wider, and his chocolate brown eyes brightened up. 

“Awesome! Thank you, babe. I promise, this is gonna be the best night in months!” He hugged me, letting my nuzzle into his big frame. I let out another laugh, as I wrapped my arms around his waist. Our lips met each others, as we slipped our tongues into each other’s wet caverns. We got caught into a heated make out session, as I wrapped my legs around Michael’s waist, being carried off to our room for something even more fun than kissing. He gently laid me on our bed, already eager to rip off my blouse. I shielded my chest with my arms, as Michael frowned, wanting to see what was under my shirt and bra. 

“Don’t rip the shirt, Mell. It’s new,” I playfully warned him. He just rolled his eyes and giggled, gently unbuttoning it. 

“Fine, fine (Y/N). But don’t expect me to go easy on you. I need you to de stress, love,” He whispered sexily in my ear, as we began to take each other’s clothes off, making love all night. 

***********************************************

“Thanks for inviting us again, guys,” Jeremy smiled at us, taking off his blazer, tossing it on the couch. He wrapped his arm around Christine, as I giggled, placing four bottles of Crystal Pepsi on the coffee table. It was Wednesday night, aka, the only night where all four of us were totally booked that we couldn’t come over. Christine reached over for a bottle along with her fiance, as they opened them, creating a satisfying pssssssst. 

“No problem, guys. We all needed this,” I said, as I sat down on the couch with Michael. Me and Michael planned this whole “Couples Night” yesterday, after work. Nothing too fancy: Just playing games, eating a bunch of junk food and getting drunk/stoned. Michael placed a bowl of mini oreos on the table, as he flopped back on the couch, sitting me on his lap. I blushed beet red, as Jeremy and Christine bit their lips to conceal a chuckle. 

“Mi-Michael?!” I half whispered, half scolded him. He just laughed, hugging me, trapping me on his lap. I rolled my eyes, as I watched him deal out the money to my favorite, classic board game, Monopoly. We all started to pick our characters, as Jeremy began to move his character with a quick roll of the dice. 

“Hey, Michael, did you talk to the designers about Monica’s and David’s 3D model?” Jeremy asked his best friend, collecting 100 bucks. Michael rolled his eyes, adjusting his position carefully so he wouldn’t let me move off from his lap. 

“Jer, this night is suppose to be a breather from work. For all of us. So let’s just play the games and relax,” Michael calmly explained to his best friend, as he went this time. Jeremy nodded understandingly, still having his arm wrapped around his fiance. We spent the whole night playing old board games (and some video games), talking about our lives outside of work. After a few hours, we were all stoned and drunk...AT THE SAME TIME! I was still on Michael’s lap, my hair slightly disheveled, and hickeys trailing down from my jaw to my collarbone. There were the same red and purple marks on Jeremy’s neck, but less of them, only visible on the front of his neck. Christine giggled, as she knew exactly how to mark her fiance. As Jeremy and I were talking, Christine was cleaning up some of the board games, while Michael finally let me off his lap, getting more joints and drinks. 

“So last night, I--” I was about to tell Jeremy all about how I FINALLY finished my report for my asshole boss, my head started to pound. It felt like someone was banging a hammer on my head, as I rubbed my temples, wishing for the pain to stop. Jeremy gave me a concerned look, as he apologized to Christine, rushing up to me. Luckily, Michael was still in the kitchen, so he didn’t have to worry about me. 

“Hey, you okay, (Y/N)?” Jeremy asked me, furrowing his brow. Worry was plastered across his face, as Christine gave me an equally concerned look. I didn’t want my best friends to worry about me either, so I just forced a nod, smiling. 

“Yeah, don’t worry. Just...my head is kinda hurting. I’m fine, though,” I reassured them, my hand still on my painful temple. Jeremy frowned, but sighed, not wanting to argue with me. 

“Alright. Should we tell Michael at least?” He asked me. I immediately shook my head, the last thing I wanted was Mikey to know that I wasn’t feeling well. 

“I said I’m fine. Okay? Just...don’t worry about it. I’ll be okay,” I told them, more firmly this time. Jeremy nodded again, going back to his fiance. As if on cue, Mikey came back, with more beer bottles and joints. 

“Hey guys, I--(Y/N)?!” He almost dropped the stuff, as he saw my face. I gently looked at him, asking him what was wrong. He furrowed his brows, the same way Jeremy did. He proceeded to place the bottles and blunts on the coffee table, as he sat next to me, feeling my forehead. I would totally be embarrassed, since Jeremy and Christine were 2 feet away from us, but all I could think about was how concerned Michael was for me. Michael removed his hand from my forehead after five seconds, his frown getting bigger. 

“Babe, do you have a fever? You feel kinda hot. I mean, you always are, but....” He chuckled, trying to add light to the dark scenario. I smiled, silently thanking him for squeezing a joke into our conversation. But I shook my head again, assuring him the same way I did with Jeremy and Christine. 

“I’m fine, Mikey. Just...my head is pounding. But it’s okay! I promise!” I quickly replied, just wanting to get stoned and drunk with my friends and fiance. Michael still didn’t buy it, and kept convincing me to rest, despite Jeremy and Christine still here.  

“You sure, princess? Some rest won’t hurt. I don’t want you passing out during our couples night out,” He laughed again, peppering my face with kisses. I could hear Jeremy and Christine snickering in the background, watching Michael’s clingyness for me unravel. And I swore, I could hear Jeremy say “Get a room!” quietly! I gently pulled him away by his hair, kissing his cheek. 

“I said, I’m good Mikey, okay?” I said, wishing for him to give up. He was about to say something, but Christine chirped in, her worried face coming back. 

“(Y/N), I really think you should rest. You’re face is also red,” She handed me a hand held makeup compact. I opened it, seeing that my skin was mostly bright red, heating up. I looked at Jeremy for support, but instead he nodded, agreeing with Michael and Christine. 

“Yeah, (Y/N). You don’t look so good. Plus, you guys do have work tomorrow,” He said, defending his best friend’s and fiance’s points. I sighed, knowing that I couldn’t argue with three against one. Michael smiled lightly, as I finally agreed with the others. 

“You sure you’ll be fine, my love?” Michael asked me, as I chomped down on some crackers. I nodded, kissing his cheek. 

“I’ll be okay, Mikey. You just have fun with Jer and Chrissie,” I told him, as my two best friends giggled at their nicknames. Michael kissed the crown of my head, understanding, as he helped me up the stairs. 

“You go rest up, love. We’ll be downstairs if you need anything,” Michael tucked me in, as he gave me one last kiss on my forehead, heading back downstairs. I snuggled against our sheets, as I let my pounding headache die down, hearing the giggles downstairs. I sighed, hating the fact that they were having fun without me. I held back my tears, closing my eyes, letting myself fall into a deep sleep. 

Beep...Beep.....Beep....

“(Y/N)? Babe, please wake up!” 

I felt as if someone was shaking me. I fluttered my eyes open as I saw a worried Michael, Jeremy, and Christine standing above me. I focused my eyes to my environment, only to find myself...not in mine and Michael’s room? Well, for starters, it was really white. And....like....EXTREMELY bright. I squinted, as some light shined in my face. Michael helped my adjust my position on an uncomfortable bed, as I fumbled with the milk white sheets. 

“Wh...What happened?” I groggily asked my three favorite people in the world. 

“You’re in the hospital, (Y/N). This morning, Michael tried to wake you up, but you weren’t responding. After an hour of trying, he called an ambulance, and they brought you here. Me and Jeremy got here about an hour ago when we heard what happened. But we’re glad you’re safe,” Christine answered me, smiling lightly. Michael was sitting next to me, kissing my hand, trailing his lips to my elbow. Jeremy rolled his eyes, tapping his fingers on the desk next to my bed. 

“Michael never left that chair ever since he brought you here (Y/N). And it’s like...6 in evening,” He chuckled, lightening the mood. My eyes widen, as I checked the clock above my head. 

“Holy shit, you’re right, Jer! I was passed out for almost twelve hours?!” I exclaimed. Michael nodded, still kissing my arm. 

“Never scare me like that again, babe. I was worried sick when you weren’t waking up,” He half scolded me, half relieved that I was awake. I giggled lightly, seeing my lovable fiance so worried about me. I know I didn’t like to see him so worked up about me, but he was so goddamn cute! As they were filling me in on what happened, a nurse came to us. 

“How is she holding up?” Jeremy asked her. The nurse checked her clip board, smiling at the papers. 

“She’s just fine. There was just a huge amount of stress and pressure placed on her systems, it caused her body to shut down more than usual,” She explained. Michael sighed, knowing that my work was the cause of the stress the nurse described. 

“When can she leave?” He asked her. 

“We just need to give her a chewing tablet, sign some papers, and she’ll be good to go,” She smiled, before handing Michael and clipboard and leaving. Michael signed the papers, before placing it on the nightstand, walking outside. I cocked my brow, sitting up to see where Michael was going. 

“Wait, Mikey where are you--” Before I could ask him, he placed a kiss on my temple, before he told me he’d be back and walked out of my room. I just furrowed my brows, as I turned to Jeremy and Christine. 

“Thanks for coming here. It means a lot,” I thanked them, signing the papers. They both smiled, wrapping their arms around each other’s shoulders. After a few more minutes of us talking, Michael came back inside, smiling like a motherfucker. I crossed my arms, curious about what happened. 

“Michael...what did you do?” I asked him, wanting an answer to why he left my room. He just chuckled, holding out his phone. 

“Guess who’s ‘sick’ and can’t come to work for the rest of the week?” He asked me, as my eyes widen again. 

“Seriously, Mikey?” I asked him, in utter shock. I didn’t know if I was happy or angry, but hey! I couldn’t stay mad at my gorgeous fiance!    

“What? Now we can cuddle!” He defended himself, taking my hand again, nuzzling it with his cheek. I rolled my eyes, knowing that was gonna enjoy these next two days off with my Mikey. Jeremy rolled his eyes, about to leave with Christine. 

“I’m guessing you’re taking the day off today and Friday?” He asked Michael. He nodded in response, just wanting to stay with me and cuddle. After I was given the chewing tablet, Michael and I went home to cuddle, play video games, and of course, get stoned together. 

A/N: GAHH!! I’m so sorry this was short and suckish, but I just really loved this idea and wanted to get it out of the way! So...yay! Hope you enjoyed my crappy story! 

@i-just-love-writing-crap @imanadultnotamatureone

[missjanjie]

Branjie Fic - Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer (3/?)

Title: Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer Summary: Brooke Lynn is a graduate student anxiously embracing her new position as her favorite dance professors’ new TA. Vanessa is a sophomore dance major who just might make her way into being more than the teacher(assistant)’s pet. (lesbian/university AU) Word Count: ~2.7k (this chapter)/~7.7k (total) Relationship: Branjie (Vanessa ‘Vanjie’ Mateo/Brooke Lynn Hytes) Rating: T Note(s): rating is subject to change, this is based on the story so far

Read on AO3 | Ch. 1 | Ch. 2

“Okay, there are two announcements I have before we’re done for the day,” Katya said to the class as the session was winding to an end. “First, if you have not submitted your potential song list to Brooke Lynn, you need to do so either before you leave, or email it by the end of the day,” she glanced back at the paper. “Secondly – and this is exciting – we’ve been invited to attend a dance exhibition in DC the last weekend of September, which is two weeks away. They’re even putting us up in a hotel, so this is a fancy fucking affair,” there were some scattered giggles throughout the class. “Brooke Lynn’s passing out…they’re not permission slips, but just the information we need so you don’t die.”

“That said, you might want to mention it to your parents, in case you can get some spending money out of them, because you’re on your own for food,” Brooke paused to think. “Well, there will be snacks at the exhibition, at least.”

“Yeah there will,” Vanessa retorted with a wink, earning some laughs from the students nearest to her.

Brooke pinched the bridge of her nose. “I walked into that, alright,” she murmured and finished passing out the sheets. “That’s all the housekeeping, you guys are free to go,” and with that, the students began filing out of the studio.

Except, of course, Vanessa. Brooke had come to expect as much at this point, and Katya had conveniently decided to leave for lunch at the same time – though it wouldn’t have been surprising if she was waiting just outside the room with a listening ear.

“I got my song list for you,” Vanessa announced proudly, handing a typed-up sheet to her. She bounced on her feet as she watched her read, waiting intently for her reaction.

Brooke’s eyes scanned the list and her brow arched. “Really, Vanjie?” she asked, knowing she had done this on purpose, and started to read the list out loud. "'When I Kissed the Teacher', 'Kiss the Girl', 'Kiss Me'," she waved her arm, showing that she read the rest of the list, that she had gotten the point. “Did you come up with all of these yourself?” she asked, exasperated despite the smile just tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Yes,” no, Blair helped with most of them. “It’s clever though, right?”

Brooke chuckled softly. Even with the stunt she pulled, she still wanted a positive reaction, and it was undeniably cute. “It is clever, yes. Good job,” she exhaled. “Now do you have a real list?” she looked at her expectantly. “You forgot to make an actual list, didn’t you?” more silence. “Vanjie, come on. This is still your final project. You need an actual course of action here.”

“I know that!” Vanessa huffed defensively. “I just…” she bit her lip and looked down. “I don’t actually know what to do, okay? I’ve never had to like, create something from scratch like this, and for a fucking final? It’s a lot!”

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Brooke cupped her chin and made their eyes meet. “I know this seems like a lot, and it can get overwhelming. But you’re so much smarter than you give yourself credit for, I know you can do this, because I believe in you. And I’m gonna help you get this right, okay?”

Vanessa swallowed thickly. She hated getting emotional, but at the same time, wore her heart on her sleeve. It hurt to feel like she wasn’t in control – that’s who she built herself to be – someone bold and fearless, who never had to worry about what was on the horizon. And Brooke just countered it all – she was quiet and organized, with a brain that ran a mile a minute, always planning, always preparing, maybe that fueled her desire to win her over. “If there’s anyone that can, it’d be you.”

So, they sat on the floor of the studio for upwards of an hour, talking about Vanessa’s musical tastes, her strengths and weaknesses, and what she could best convey through a performance. And it was the most fun either of them ever had doing homework. Finally, they homed in on a song that they both were ready to get behind.

“And I’m not gonna get read for going this route? It’s not…unpolished?” Vanessa asked, looking at the lyrics on her phone even though she knew them by heart.

“Well, that’s the thing. It’s not going to be a polished, refined number – that’s not who you are. You need to do something that speaks to you, not what you think everyone wants to see,” Brooke smiled, reaching out and squeezing her hand reassuringly.

Vanessa smiled, resting her head on Brooke’s shoulder. “Not to get all sappy, but I really couldn’t have done it without you,” she admitted softly.

Brooke wrapped an arm around her and kissed her forehead. “Aw, that’s so sweet. I like it when you get sappy. It makes me feel like there’s another side of you that not everyone gets to see.”

Blushing, Vanessa hid her face against Brooke’s chest. “Don’t go ‘round telling people that. I got, you know, a reputation on the line,” she mumbled.

“What? That you’ve got a soft, warm center like a good cookie?” Brooke gently tilted her chin up and kissed her, teasingly biting at her bottom lip. “Good thing I’ve got a sweet tooth then, eh?”

Vanessa snorted. “That was so fucking corny,” she said before kissing her again, “but I’m into it, come get these cookies,” she straddled her lap and rest both hands on the back of her head, as if she were preventing her from running away from a kiss again.

But Brooke wouldn’t have ran if her life depended on it. With one hand on the small of Vanessa’s back, and the other between her shoulder blades, she held her close, no longer any space between them. A pleased sigh slipped out between their lips in what was a culmination of everything that’d happened in the past couple weeks.

That was, until, they both realized there was heavy breathing that didn’t belong to either of them. They managed to stop making out long enough to realize that a janitor was standing in the doorway, watching them. Subsequently, they broke apart and quickly gathered their things. If nothing else, at least they both found it to be a massive mood killer, leaving neither one wanting more in that moment.

“I’ll see you in class,” Brooke murmured, heading right.

“Yep, totally,” Vanessa replied and turned left, neither of them wanting to know if the janitor did anything next, though he did now have a list of people that were going to be rather pissed at him.

----------

Brooke Lynn didn’t necessarily make a habit of going out, but she did her best to enjoy herself when she did. There was a lesbian bar not too far from campus that she had been meaning to check out anyway – the last thing she needed tonight was a guy hitting on her after the janitor incident days prior. Of course, she couldn’t think about that without thinking about Vanessa, and what might have happened had they not been interrupted. It couldn’t have gone too far, right? She liked to believe she would have had enough self-control to not fuck her in the dance studio, but Vanessa was changing her perception of everything she knew the longer she was around her.

So, she sat at the bar and ordered a drink, scanning the room. It was reasonably occupied for a Saturday night, and there were plenty of pretty girls, and yet… “You ever been hung up on someone you know you shouldn’t be?” she asked the bartender.

“Every straight girl I ever slept with, honey,” she replied with a shrug. “That’ll get your heart broken real quick.”

“I can imagine,” Brooke nodded, absentmindedly stirring her straw around her glass. “I swear though, it’s like I can still hear her voice.”

As it turned out, she was not descending further into madness. Vanessa, A���keria, Blair, and Blair’s girlfriend had all decided to hit up the bar as well – after procuring some convincing ID’s, of course. And once they were inside, the drinks were flowing, and inhibitions were tossed to the wayside.

But the college students had gotten a much earlier start than she – A’keria had already picked out who she was taking home, and Blair was fading in and out of the main area with her date in tow. That left Vanessa, dancing to her heart’s content.

“Oh my god,” Brooke exhaled, quickly downing her drink and leaving cash. She wiggled her way through other club-goers until she ‘accidentally’ bumped into her. “Well, look who it is,” she chuckled.

It was then that it became glaringly obvious that Vanessa was wasted. She let out an excited yell and threw her arms around the taller girl. “Heeey Brooke Lynn,” she hiccupped and began dancing up against her, but it was at the point of sloppy, rather than sexy.

“Jesus, Vanjie, how much have you had to drink tonight?” she was letting the inebriated girl attempt to grind on her because it appeared to be the only thing keeping her from falling down. She steadied her by putting her hands on her waist, shaking her head in amusement.

Vanessa tilted her head in thought, then shrugged. “I lost count,” she tried to pull Brooke closer to kiss her. “We need to pick up where we left off in the studio,” she said in what was an attempt at a ‘seductive’ voice.

“What we need is to get your ass home before you hurt yourself. Who did you come here with?” Brooke waited until Vanessa pointed Blair out, then held on to her as they walked over. “I’m taking Vanjie home. Did she have anything else on her?”

Blair tilted her head, then perked up. “Oh! You’re Brooke!” she smiled brightly, until she realized Brooke was still waiting for an answer. “Yeah, here,” she handed her the small clutch Vanessa had come in with. “Bye! Get home safe!” she chirped.

For a split second, Brooke wondered how someone could just trust a relative stranger to take their friend home. But the girl knew her by name, and she was Vanessa’s friend; she probably had at least some knowledge of the nature of their relationship, or at the very least that she could be a trustworthy person. She wrapped her arm around Vanessa’s waist and helped her out of the bar.

After a half-block of stumbling, however, Brooke realized this was not going to be an effective method of transport. But, for whatever reason, taking a cab or uber didn’t cross her mind. Instead, she picked the smaller girl up, letting her legs wrap around her waist, and carrying her back like she would a toddler. Much to her relief, Vanessa didn’t put up any fight, just giggling in amusement and rambling semi-coherently all the way back to her dorm.

Brooke carefully set Vanessa down on the bed, turning on the lamp on her end table so she could see without waking up the sleeping roommate. “Stay put,” she instructed quietly as she got up to rifle around her belongings.

Vanessa nodded obediently but pouted. “We’re not fucking tonight, are we?”

“Sorry to disappoint,” she retorted softly. “But I do need to undress you,” she moved her around like a ragdoll as she got her out of the skin-tight tube dress she was in, as well as her undergarments. She replaced them with the Hello Kitty pajamas she had found in one of the drawers and set the party clothes aside.

It was funny, in an ironic sort of way. Brooke had thought about Vanessa naked more times than she would ever admit. And here she was, catching a glimpse at her undressed form, and she couldn’t have been less interested in going down that path. If anything, she felt guilty about everything that had transpired because shit, this was someone that had to use a fake ID to get into a bar. Hell, Vanessa could barely hold her head up while Brooke wiped off her makeup.

Brooke tried to ignore those nagging feelings – she had finally started to move past all of her excuses to avoid pursuing her, she didn’t want this setback now. “How are you feeling?” she whispered.

“Sleepy,” Vanessa mumbled, letting Brooke tuck her in. “Are you leaving?”

“No, no I got you, Vanjie,” she assured, leaning down and kissing her forehead. “I’ll be right here if you need me, okay?” and she waited and watched, making sure she was safely asleep before she allowed herself to sit down.

----------

“Ugh, fuck I wanna die,” Vanessa mumbled into her pillow. She rolled back and forth a couple times before her eyes opened. The first thing she saw was the bed across from her was empty – her roommate had already left for the day. This made her wildly confused when she suddenly heard a loud, heavy snore. “What the fuck?” she looked around, and when she saw Brooke passed out on the floor beside her, she felt tears start to burn her eyes, which she promptly wiped away and chalked up to being touchy from the hangover.

Trying to recall the night before proved to be a struggle. She had a vague memory of seeing Brooke at the bar, but being carried home by her? Laying limp while she changed her into pajamas and cleaned her up? Those were things she had to piece together by assessing her surroundings. It touched her – no one other than her mother had gone out of their way to make sure she was taken care of like this. How was she even supposed to react to that?

“Wake up, bitch,” Vanessa hit Brooke with the pillow, laying on her stomach so she could see her better. “What happened last night? And why am I wearing the pajamas my mom packed for me?”

“First of all, they’re adorable and your mom is the best for packing them,” Brooke told her as she pushed up to a sitting position, “Second of all, you were a hot mess last night. I took you back here and you passed out around…two in the morning, I think, ‘cause I remember falling asleep closer to three,” she recalled, scratching the back of her head.

Vanessa smiled, looking down at her lap. “You didn’t have to do that. I can handle myself,” there weren’t any actual negative emotions in her tone, aside from some embarrassment at the idea of having acted a fool in front of Brooke.

Brooke got up on her knees, folding her arms on Vanessa’s bed and propping her chin on top of them. “I know I didn’t, but you shouldn’t have to when it comes to something like that. You could’ve gotten hurt if someone didn’t step in. And yes, I know you were with friends, but I needed to make sure for myself.”

The hangover bothered Vanessa less and less the longer she had Brooke in her room. It gave her something to focus on that wasn’t her throbbing headache and how she couldn’t sit up for more than a few seconds without feeling tired or nauseous. “For real though, thanks for handling my crazy ass last night. I don’t know a whole lotta people that would.”

“Of course, everyone needs to know there’s someone to bail them out when they’re in trouble,” Brooke pushed herself all the way up and sat on the edge of the bed, gently pushing the hair off Vanessa’s face. “Do you need anything else? Should I stay for a little longer?”

Vanessa beamed gently and shook her head. “Nah, I can take it from here. But really, thank you.”

Brooke nodded and got up. “Take care of yourself, Vanjie. You know how to reach me if you need it,” she leaned down and kissed her forehead and closed the blinds before leaving.

Once Brooke was gone, Vanessa pulled the covers back up over her head, expecting to be back asleep within minutes, but her thoughts kept her awake, replaying everything that had happened in her head. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking about Brooke, and it made her feel warm inside. She groaned, staring up at the ceiling. “Fuck,” she muttered, realizing this had gone past flirtation and into a full-blown crush.

[i-know-you-can]

Domesticity - Chapter 7 - Merry Serpent Christmas

Summary: A series of overly sappy and fluffy domestic one shots set a couple of years after season 1. Canon compliant until the end of season 1, if the alternative ending with Jughead moving in with the Coopers actually happened.

AKA Betty and Jughead stood the test of time and now they’re starting a new chapter of their life

Rated: T

Chapters: 7/?

A/N:  Once again, I’ve been meaning to post this sooner as I have a bunch of other Christmas related chapters I want to do, but well, life happened so we may be celebrating with Bughead for a while. So whether your celebrate Christmas or not, I hope you can appreciate some Bughead fluffiness. 

Special thank you goes to @bugheadjones-the-third for helping me with the idea for this chapter (if you haven't read her fics what are you even doing here? go read it and you can come back to mine later) and of course my girl @ladybughead for taking the crap I send her and fixing it into something more presentable. 

read on AO3

read on fanfiction.net

“Honey, I'm home,” Betty announces cheerfully when she enters the apartment, but one glance towards the couch tells her that something is wrong. Jughead is sitting in his usual position, hunched over his laptop, but instead of his hair sticking out to all sides as it usually does when he's writing and constantly messing with it, today his head is covered with his old crown beanie. And while just a couple of years ago he used to wear it religiously, nowadays he only wears it in situations when he feels like he needs an extra barrier of protection from other people. So, seeing it covering his head even though he's sitting in his own apartment has Betty worried.

“Do you want to talk?” Betty asks once she put her stuff away and walks towards the couch, resting her hand on Jughead's shoulder and giving it a light squeeze.

Jughead shakes his head as a quiet, “No,” falls from his lips and Betty is ready to retreat to the kitchen and give him some space when he extends his arms towards her, inviting her to sit next to him. She sidles up to him as he puts his laptop away and pulls her into his side, burying his face in her hair. For hours this was all he wanted to do, to remind himself that at least some of the things in his life are going the way he wants.

“Can I take this off?” Betty asks softly as she runs her finger along the edge of his beanie and Jughead gives her a little nod. She slides the hat off his head, replacing it with her fingers as she runs them through his hair.

He relaxes into her touch instantly, as she knows he would, and just a moment later he speaks up: “My mom called,” he says and Betty already knows that can't mean anything good. Over the years Gladys has attempted to reach out about three times, but each time it only drove a bigger wedge between her and Jughead. “She doesn't want JB to come over for Christmas,” he continues and the heartbreak is apparent in his voice. She has put him through a lot considering the sudden abandonment, when he wasn't even sixteen, and turning him down when he was at his lowest, but the one thing that Jughead can't forgive his mother for is trying to separate him from his sister. While the internet and frequent phone calls allow him to keep up with her life, there has only been a handful of times over the past few years when he was able to actually spend time with her in person. The last time being at his wedding, now almost five months ago.

“Oh, Juggie.” Betty lets out a sad sigh and wraps her arms firmly around his chest, squeezing him with all her might. She knows just how much he was looking forward to spending Christmas with his sister. After Betty's parents decided that now that both of their daughters officially left the nest, they would spend the holidays somewhere tropical and after Polly and her little family got invited to London to spend Christmas with Cheryl, Betty and Jughead decided to do their own family gathering, inviting both FP and Jellybean to New York.

“I just... Thought we could all be together for once. All the people I care about most.” His voice sounds so broken and Betty shuts her eyes tightly, wishing she could take at least some of his pain away.

“We'll still have the best holidays yet. I'll make that happen. I promise,” she says with determination, the wheels in her head already turning. Christmas is her favorite holiday ever, but it means nothing if Jughead isn't enjoying this time of the year with her.

“Betts,” Jughead sighs but smiles a little. She's so determined and he loves that about her, but he doesn't want her to worry about him and whether he's having the time of his life. “You don't have to do anything for me. As long as we're together, nothing can go wrong.”

“Don't!” Betty raises her hand as if trying to stop him from jinxing it. “You said that our freshman year of college and you know how that turned out.”

A low chuckle escapes his throat at the memory. “As if I could ever forget that.”

 4 years ago

“What is she up to?” Betty asks in a whisper, leaning closer to Jughead while her eyes don't leave her mother who is carrying a plate full of cookies towards them with a smile that is wider and faker than any Better has ever seen. They barely finished eating the Christmas dinner when Alice ushered them to the living room, insisting they have some cookies and coffee.

When FP tried to thank her for dinner and leave the house as quickly as possible, something Betty could totally understand, to everyone's surprise instead of encouraging him, Alice pushed him towards the couch and insisted he stays. Betty shot Jughead a surprised look, but he just shrugged and pulled her closer to him as they both sat on the couch. The only people who managed to escape this ordeal were Polly and her kids, as she claimed the twins need to make it to bed on time even on Christmas Eve. Never before has Betty wished she was the one to get pregnant in high school, but now she'd give anything to have an excuse to leave early.

The whole evening was getting progressively more and more awkward and Betty started to wonder whether she's the one who started it all. Even though she meant well. When she first proposed inviting FP to spend Christmas with them, Alice couldn't be more adamant about it being a bad idea. It was the first Christmas since FP got out of prison and it was important for Jughead to spend this holiday with him. And after three years of celebrating with Jughead, Betty couldn't imagine it any other way so inviting FP over seemed like the obvious choice. The Coopers could easily afford to fill in one more seat at the dinner table and after Betty threatened she would go spend Christmas Eve with the Jones men at the Sunny Side trailer park, Alice finally caved. However, her constant jabs at FP covered by fake niceness and forced smiles during the whole dinner made Betty extremely uncomfortable and Jughead's hand on her thigh was the only thing keeping her from jumping out of her seat.

“In general? Probably hoping to take over the universe,” Jughead jokes and gives Betty's shoulder a light squeeze, but the crease between her eyebrows only deepens when her mother glances towards the clock, as if waiting for something instead of joining them on the couches. “Relax, Betts. I bet it's nothing that...” he gets interrupted by the sound of the doorbell and all the heads turn towards the front door, wondering who could be coming over on Christmas Eve. It's not like there have been any carolers in the past ten years.

“I'll get the door,” Alice says a bit too enthusiastically and once again Jughead needs to hold Betty down to prevent her from rushing after her mother.

Just a moment later Alice is back in the living room, two men and one woman trailing after her, but instead of wearing ugly Christmas sweaters like the rest of the family, including FP, they're dressed in leather jackets with the Serpent logo embroidered on their backs.

There is a moment of silence as everyone exchanges various looks from confused through agitated to amused, the last one coming from FP, while Alice leads the Serpents further into her home.

“You've done well for you, Al. I'm not surprised you ran from the Southside as fast as you could,” one of the Serpent says, sliding into an empty armchair and grabbing a gingerbread cookie of the tray that Alice brought just minutes earlier.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Alice waves her hand nonchalantly and pours three cups of coffee for her guests, ignoring everyone’s inquisitive stares.

“Mom, what is all this?” Betty asks when she can’t hold her question in any longer, demanding to know how three leather clad gang member made their way to their house on Christmas Eve. Especially after Alice made such a fuss about inviting FP over.

“Honey, you said you wanted FP to feel welcome here tonight. So, I've invited some of his friends,” Alice says as if the answer is totally obvious.

“You know I don't run with the Serpents anymore,” FP's voice is calm but the look in his eyes indicates that he's up for anything that Alice may try to throw at him. Much like Alice herself, he hasn't been too enthusiastic about spending Christmas with her and Hal, but he wouldn't dare to ask Jughead to pick between Christmas Eve with the Coopers and his own father. Especially since the former option includes his girlfriend. While the complicated relationship between the father and son improved vastly during FP's time in prison, he knows he could hardly compete with Betty for his affection.

“Snakes don't shed their skin so easily. Isn't that what you said?” Alice cocks her eyebrow at him as if challenging him.

“You've been trying to shed yours for thirty years. Am I not allowed to do the same?” He raises his eyebrow to match hers, accepting the unspoken challenge.

“Good point,” one of the Serpents mumbles as he shoves another cookie into his mouth.

“Mom?” Betty prompts her mother to explain, but Alice is too invested in her verbal match with FP to notice her daughter's questioning look.

“Allow me to doubt that,” she says, crossing her arms. “You've always been so proud to be a Serpent.”

“Weren't you? Hoping to be called the Serpent Queen one day,” FP scoffs. “I remember it as if it was yesterday.”

“He's right, Al,” the female Serpent says. “With your sharp teeth and quick tongue, we all thought you were gonna be our leader one day. Even after you ran away with the Ken doll here.” She flicks her finger towards Hal who has been silently observing the conversation until now. “We didn't expect you to keep up this charade for so long.” Betty seems ready to jump out of her seat and demand that someone explains what's going on, but when she looks at Jughead he's just shakes his head and pulls her closer, indicating for her to stay out of this exchange. There will be time to ask questions later.

“Hey!” Hal growls at the woman, but comes up short when trying to defend his marriage.

“You share your bed with a Serpent, Hal. You should be used to the bites,” FP snickers and all the three Serpents join him until Alice shuts them up with her glare. “Or does she just hiss at you these days?”

“Shut it, FP.” Alice snarls. “You had your chance and passed on it.”

“I'm glad I did!” FP fires back.

Jughead's eyes dart rapidly between his father, Alice and the three Serpents as he shoves cookies into his mouth with one hand, the other resting on Betty's shoulder. He knows Kevin would be jealous of him getting the front row seat to what seems to be an Alice-FP stand-off but he's failing to keep up with the conversation as he keeps glancing at his girlfriend, whose brows are furrowed, trying to make sense of the scene in front of her.

Betty follows the whole exchange intently, but all the new information along with the amount of questions popping up in her mind is making her head spin. Was her mother really a Serpent? What exactly is the history between her and FP? What is she trying to achieve by bringing the Serpents over?

“I'll go get some more cookies from the pantry,” Betty says suddenly with a wide smile that Jughead immediately recognizes as fake and bolts out of the living room. She doesn’t think she can spend any more time there without going crazy.

Jughead spends a few moments contemplating what to do and when he sees that no one is paying him any attention anyway, he sets out after Betty.

“Betts,” he whispers softly as he enters the small room used as a pantry, not wanting to startle her. Her eyes are closed and she's leaning against a tall shelf, her hands gripping the edges so tight her knuckles are turning white. Jughead’s eyes slide to her hands and he’s relieved to see she’s not digging her nails in her palms, but this isn’t that much better.

“I'm fine,” she replies to Jughead's unspoken question, but he knows she's everything but.

“Betty.” He steps closer and places his hands on her arms, drawing small gentle circles with his fingers in an attempt to release the obvious tension from her body. He’s grateful to Alice for a lot, but her actions making Betty feel this way is not something he can ever accept.

“Why does she always try to ruin everything?” Betty asks and when she opens her eyes, they're filled with tears, threatening to spill down her cheeks. “All I wanted was for her to act civil for one evening so you could spend time with your dad and I could spend time with you. Is that too much to ask?” her voice wavers and she wonders whether it really is too much to ask of her mother. Alice has been trying to make Betty pretend she's the perfect nice girl next door for over a decade, yet she herself can't manage it for one evening.

“Hey, if this is about my dad, you really don't need to worry. He may not say it directly, but I think he's enjoying this game that your mom is playing at least as much as she does,” Jughead says with a tiny smirk, hoping it comforts Betty at least a little. While he does want his father to have a good time, he doesn't want Betty to take the responsibility for that. Their families are crazy to say the least. And while at nineteen many would call him naive or simply stupid for believing it, he knows or hopes, that Betty and him are forever. Complicated family relationships are just something they'll have to deal with.

“I just don't want him to be uncomfortable. It's his first Christmas since he got out of prison and I wanted to make it nice for him. For both of you,” Betty's voice is soft and so full of care, Jughead feels like he could drop down on his knees and ask her to marry him right there and then. His daydreams are quickly put to an end as Betty continues, her words tumbling out more quickly than before. “Instead my mom turned this into a gang reunion. A gang she was a part of! Can you even believe that? She obviously went through such lengths to hide it and she decided to throw it all away just to spite your dad? On Christmas of all days!” Betty rambles on, barely stopping to take a breath. During the past three years the relationship with her mother has been slowly getting better. Their family would never be normal, and that's excluding the fact that her parents decided to foster her boyfriend, but by the time Betty and Jughead left for college things were normal enough. Now, just a few short months later it's like everything went back to the way it used to be and Betty feels like Alice's behavior is suffocating her.

“Betty.” Jughead squeezes her shoulders a bit harder, trying to stop her from spiraling. “Breathe,” he says with an amused smile. Despite his girlfriend's worries, he can't help it but focus on how cute she is when she gets all passionate about trying to make this Christmas as enjoyable as possible. Before they left New York, she told him she wanted them to have the best holidays yet and even though Jughead said all he need was to spend time with her and his dad, she stayed determined. “I know this whole day is turning more than a little crazy, but that's beyond our control. And that's okay.”

“I don't like things being out of my control.” She crosses her arms and pouts in a dramatic fashion.

“I know.” Jughead chuckles. “But in some weird way our parents seem to be enjoying the evening. So, we should too.” She can see the playful spark in his eyes as his hands move to her waist, his thumbs slipping under her Christmas sweater and lightly brushing her skin. The tips of his fingers are cold, but Betty's skin feels on fire everywhere he touches her and she's quickly craving more. They've been back in Riverdale for only four days but barely spent any time alone, which makes every single touch feel more intense than usual.

“What if they're still waiting for the cookies?” Betty asks suddenly just as Jughead leans closer in an attempt to kiss her.

“I doubt they even noticed we're gone.” He lets out a low laugh. Of course, Betty is thinking about others before thinking about herself. She's an angel hiding under an ugly Christmas sweater. Except even the sweater doesn't look ugly when she's wearing it. God, how did I ever deserve her?

“Good,” Betty breaths and pulls Jughead's lips to hers, her hand slipping into his hair while his tongue slips into her mouth, quickly making her forget why she was hiding in the pantry in the first place. Their kisses grow urgent and just a moment later he's pressing her against the door, preferring it over the old rattling shelves.

“Yes,” Betty mumbles as Jughead’s lips trail down the column of her neck and he smirks against her skin, biting it just enough to get a reaction from her, but not hard enough to leave a mark. They still have a few more days left in Riverdale and he doesn’t need Alice to give him the stink eye.

Betty wraps her leg around his waist, pulling him closer and grinding their hips together and they both let out deep satisfied moans, suddenly glad for the obnoxious Christmas songs that Alice put on muffling the noises they neither can nor try to stop from escaping. “God, Betts,” Jughead growls, not sure if he’s trying to encourage her or stop her as his mind and body are telling him two different things. Their parents are just a few feet away, which should be reason enough not to do this, and Betty smells and tastes like cookies and that argument may actually be stronger. For Jughead anyway.

Betty's reindeer sweater is pushed halfway up her chest, Jughead’s hand inside her bra when Alice's sharp voice pierces their ears and they spring apart, feeling like they're sixteen again, sneaking around the house for a quick make out.

“Elizabeth, don't forget the chocolate biscotti. They’re Viper’s favorite.”

“Don't worry mom, I've got them,” Betty calls through the door, grateful her mother didn't decide to come into the pantry herself. The whole evening is awkward enough even without Alice walking in on them like this. Though it still wouldn’t be the most uncomfortable moment.

“Oh, and Jughead, bring some more sparkling water for your father. His unsuccessful attempts to roast me have left him quite parched.”

“Will do, Mrs. C,” Jughead chokes out, the color of his face easily matching the red of Betty's sweater that she now pulled back down, much to his disappointment.

“How does she always do this?” Betty growls, her face twisting in annoyance.

“She must've put some tracking device on us while we were asleep at some point,” he jokes and presses his lips softly to Betty's again, hoping to kiss the frown off her face. Knowing that Alice is lurking nearby, very much aware of what they were doing in the pantry, there is no way they can resume where they left off but Jughead would still like to spend a few more moments alone with his gorgeous girlfriend before they have to reenter the war zone that is the living room.

“Yeah, some chips that detect us having fun so she can come and ruin it,” she mutters and starts searching for the cookies. She most definitely doesn’t want to go back to the living room, but knows that if she doesn’t, it’ll most likely lead to a lecture from her mother about how to behave around their guests. Not that Alice is showing the best example. “You coming?” Betty asks with a sigh once she loaded all the cookies in a small basket.

“I uh... may need a second,” Jughead says, casting his eyes down and his face burns up once again.

Betty's eyes travel below the waist of Jughead's pants and she lets out a small giggle before catching her lower lip between her teeth and winking as she leaves the pantry.

“Not helping,” Jughead calls after her and shakes his head with laughter.

 Present

“It wasn’t all bad, though. But with your mom not being here and keeping the number of former gang members present to one, I think we have a very good chance at making this one much better,” Jughead says with a hopeful smile. He may not be able to spend the holidays with his sister, but he knows Betty will make sure they all have a good time.

“We will.” She beams up at him and presses a soft kiss to his lips. Betty Jones has just made it her goal to give her husband the best Christmas yet and this time she’ll make everything in her power to accomplish it.

[epic-potato-crisp]

“A first time for everything” - Ajin Secret Santa 2017

This is my contribution for this year’s Ajin event. To no-one’s surprise, dear

@jamestaylor50 is my giftee. :D I hope you enjoy! Warning: Very sappy. Proceed at own caution.

Merry Christmas!

Title: A first time for everything

Pairing: Tosaki/Izumi

Genres: Romance, Fluff

Fun Fact: Japan has IKEA

Tosaki thinks he might be hallucinating when the first sight that greets him at the hideout is one he never thought he’d see in this place.

“A tree.” he mutters. Not even an artificial one, the thing sitting right into the middle of what is usually used as their conference room seems to be a genuine pine tree. It’s been fastened into a pot underneath. Christmas balls in silver and golden have been hung on the branches, and there are fairy lights ranking themselves around the trunk. A few pine needles have already dropped down and are scattered around the pot’s base. To top off this curiosity, there are presents underneath.

Tosaki clears his throat. “Shimomura!” he calls into the back of the house, but there is no response.

He kneels down to examine the four parcels sitting underneath the tree.

One must be from Shimomura, he thinks and sighs, before pulling out his own present for her and inconspicuously sliding it under the tree.

The others, if it wasn’t apparent from the writing on the name tags already, are from Nagai, Nakano and Ogura. And those three too, were to receive their own presents.

Shimomura had taken the initiative of gifting their youngest and their American team member for Christmas. Tosaki had gone along, with a lot of showcased begrudging and complaints, just so that no-one could possibly pin him as someone who had gone soft over the years. In the end, they found some passable goods, so it was not as bad as it could have been, Tosaki thoughts.

Ogura had taken his gift with him to the States, visiting his family over the holidays.

Nagai and Nakano were to spend Christmas Eve at the Nagai’s house, and Tosaki still vividly remembered the thunderstruck look on Kei’s face when they informed him that it would be for the best if he could take Nakano home for his family’s celebration. He could have stayed with them but after all, neither Tosaki nor Shimomura had ever really celebrated the occasion before and they wanted Nakano to experience a proper Christmas Eve for what was likely going to be his very first celebration in years, as well. New Years, the four of them would celebrate together – again, it had been Shimomura’s i

“It’s just going to be boring and uncomfortable.” Nagai had grumbled, “I don’t see why he has to come. My mum’s going to complain about current politics and nag us to display the proper etiquette of a good member of society, and all that. I can’t guarantee she won’t make any backhand remarks about Ajin, either.”

“If it really is terrible, we can still pick you up.” Shimomura had offered, reaching out to softly pat his head.

Miraculously, Nagai didn’t pull away. “Fine.” he had sighed.

Nakano’s excitement at the prospect of having a REAL CHRISTMAS CELEBRATION had been gargantuan from the second he had been informed. Although being a little nervous to intrude on Kei’s family celebration, he had immediately taken off to purchase gifts, including those for Kei’s mother and sister. And said excitement persisted up until today. Shimomura had received no less than five pictures already, most of which were selfies with Eriko (she was home for the occasion and seemed to be in good spirits) and one into which a beleaguered Kei had been dragged as well. Despite all his complaints, Tosaki can see the smile tugging at the corner of his mouths and with a relief that was completely unwarranted for, he notes that his two certainly-not-charges are also spending a joyful day. Not that it matters to him, naturally.

He startles when he hears the sound of keys further down the long hallway and starts making his way towards the front door.

“Good evening.” Shimomura greets him, teeth slightly chattering. Her face is tinted by a reddish hue, snow falling down from her gloves as she takes them off, before proceeding with her hat and scarf.

“Let me help you with that.” Tosaki offers, and she throws him a smile, stretching out her arms as he helps getting her getting out of her coat.

“Did you get everything you needed?” he asks, glancing over at the two large shopping bags at her side.

“Yes.” she confirms, “More than enough for Christmas dinner and to last us for the next few days.”

“We’re having a Christmas dinner?” He raises an eyebrow.

She appears just as confused, and before she can lift the two bags again, which appear quite heavy at first sight and make him wonder how on earth she carried them all this way, even from the car, he picks them up himself.

“Of course we’re having Christmas dinner.” he says, rolling his eyes, “How could I even ask?”

There’s a humorous glint in her dark eyes. “I’m not planning on poisoning you, Tosaki-san.”

“Really?” he jabs back, going along with her banter, “I thought you planned on finding out if I was an Ajin once for all.”

Shimomura shakes her head.  “There’s no need.” she says, softly, “I like you best as as a human.” she says, “That’s more than perfect to me, Yuu.”

It takes a few seconds for her words to sink in. As a blush lightens up Shimomura’s cheeks and she raises her eyes up to him in a light panic, he realizes that she did call him what she thought he did.

Before he can even attempt to assuage her, the name is fine, don’t worry about it, we’re not at work currently so I don’t mind, Shimomura, she had already taken off with a yelp off “I’ll be quick.” Into the direction of the nearest bathroom.

Tosaki sighs, ponders his life, and then takes the grocery bags to the kitchen.

 With everything sorted into the fridge and hours to prepare dinner yet, he settles back into their excuse for a living room, sinking onto their newly acquired couch.

“We don’t need a couch. This is a hideout for secret operations.” He had deadpanned, attempting to stare down Nakano and Nagai before they could carry the monstrosity inside.

“Yeah, we do.” Nakano had argued, only a yelled “hey!” from Nagai preventing him from letting go off the piece of furniture in favor of gesturing, “IKEA had a sale, you know?” He was beaming. Tosaki didn’t know what there was to beam about. “ And with just the chairs.” Nakano continued, “Man, it’s not comfortable at all. If we’re going to be here longer, might as well have one. You know, for watching the news. Or movie marathons.”

“We are not having any-“

“Oh, did you boys buy a couch?” Shimomura appears right behind him, and to his demise she appears to be rather thrilled at the purchase, “Thank you for thinking ahead. I wanted to get one all this time, and just never found the right occasion.”

Good that this is settled.” Nagai huffs, straining his arms under the weight of the couch, “Can we just carry it inside now?”

And so, the hideout came to have a couch.

It’s not too bad of an idea, Tosaki admit reluctantly, settling against the pliant cushions, definitely the more comfortable alternative to any of their sturdy chairs.

There’s the sound of steps coming down the stairs, and he finds himself straightening up.

A few seconds later, Shimomura’s standing in the doorway, rubbing her upper arm subconciousy, apparently just as loss with the situation as he is.

“Tosaki-san?”

“Oh…Shimomura.” He isn’t used to seeing her a in a red cardigan, black jeans and black wooly socks, and yet, as much as her usual office look suits her, he can’t deny that it is quite a pleasant sight.

“Matcha?” he asks, gesturing to the two steaming cups he placed on the small glassy table in front of their couch.

“Oh, yes.” she says, surprise evident in her tone, “Thank you. That’s the best after those temperatures outside.”

She takes a seat next to him, glancing over and yet seeming unable to look him in the eye.

Working together all this time, they had spent time like this in close proximity before, so under any circumstances, her behavior would have seemed odd.

But it isn’t.

Today is the first time she called him by his first name, after all.  The first time any of them used first names, at all.

“Yuu is fine.” he says, quietly, and she startles, almost spilling her tea when he does.

He takes a deep breath, then, carefully, her breathing slowing audibly as he does, wraps his hand around hers to both offer comfort and steady the cup.

“Yuu is fine.” he repeats, as though she had missed it the first time he said it. Undeniably, he knows she heard every word.

Shimomura’s face turns scarlet and she lowers her eyes to the table.

“I-is it really?” she stammers, and he finds himself nodding.

He clears his throat, a sudden emergence of nervousness in his stomach making it hard for him to speak.

“Yes. And speaking of things that are fine…” he starts, carefully choosing each word, “what about Izumi? Is that – also fine?”

He’s most certainly glad he’s steadying the cup, for otherwise, they would have had to part with the only good china they left at the hide-out in that very moment.

His assistant whips around, staring at him wide-eyed.

“It most certainly is.” she chokes, “S-Sir.”

“Yuu.” He corrects her, unable to hold back a smirk as her face turns aflame the instant the syllable leaves his lips.

“Y-yuu.” She mumbles, heaving her shoulders and only then, meeting his eyes once again.

“Yuu.” She repeats. Then, with a self-conscious laugh, “I could get used to this.

He clears his throat. “Please do.” he says.

“Of course.” She lowers the cup which causes him to temporarily let go off her hands, and he wonders if she was not yet comfortable with the gesture, only to feel the same hand suspiciously resting himself on top his palm the very next second.

“I see.” he states, and hesitates for a moment before he gives his response.

A smile brightens up her face as he links their fingers together.

“Merry Christmas… Izumi.”

[redeeminggracechurch-blog]

Photo by HDV Newcastle Al Fresco / CC BY-ND 2.0

What is true hospitality? We all know the Martha / Mary story from the New Testament — Martha is busy running around getting every thing in order to serve a meal, while Mary is instead sitting at Jesus’ feet, listening to Him and spending time with Him. When Cameron and I were first married, I used to think that our house had to be completely clean and tidy before our guests arrived. I became the “Martha” before the company even arrived. I would stress out so much, along with setting up unreasonable expectations of both Cameron and myself, that it was normal for us to get in a heated argument before our guests knocked on the door. Because of this, the time wasn’t as enjoyable because I was stuck in that “Martha” mentality. It took years of Cameron convincing me that it’s okay if the house isn’t perfectly clean! True hospitality is being the “Mary” in this story, as Jesus taught us. Not focusing so much on the state of the house (or meal even), but instead on the people that are in our home — our guests. Spending time getting to know them and serving them. Of course, we will need to be somewhat prepared by cooking a meal and doing some cleaning, but it’s a heart issue — are we more concerned about our reputation, that our guests are going to bring a white glove with them to test our cleanliness and cooking ability, or instead are we praying in our hearts how we might serve our friends / neighbors / coworkers by listening to them and sitting down with them? In reality they will offer to help in the kitchen finishing up whatever isn’t ready, or even helping to clean up afterwards. OR ENTERTAIN OUR KIDS! It’s a difference between my selfish thought process of how my performance is rather than on how I can show love to whomever enters our home.

These are a few things that I’ve learned about hospitality over the years — by being welcomed in homes of family and friends, and by hosting a few dinners here:

1. Hospitality doesn’t mean you have to have a perfectly clean home! I always imagined that I would always keep my house spotless, so that if anyone “dropped in” unannounced, I wouldn’t be embarrassed by the state of its condition. Well my clutter habit and inability to organize quickly diminished that hope! In reality, as far as the house is concerned, the one thing I will guarantee is (as long as you give me five minutes notice!), the bathroom will be clean! And maybe the rugs will be vacuumed in the living room. Other than that, consider yourself walking into a minefield of legos, crayons, and any other tiny toy that will hurt if you step on it! And the kitchen counters will probably be at least half full of dirty dishes and there will be evidence of my clutter tendencies on the bookshelves!

2. Hospitality isn’t about having your home exactly how you want it to look!

When I think about home, I picture a sanctuary, a haven, a tranquil place where all who walk through the door feel welcome. When I was young and single, many people opened their homes to me, and I always wanted to have one of those homes where people would feel welcome to come anytime and “the door was always open.” I wanted to decorate in a way that would have a very welcoming feel to it. A quiet fountain would be trickling outside the open window, candles would be glowing, I would have my “perfect music for company” CD playing, and the list goes on! Between now and then, it’s not quite the picture I had in my mind for years, but it’s a work in progress and, in actuality, it may never “look” as I’ve envisioned it, but I have come to terms with that — somewhat at least — and I still want people to come over regardless! Knowing me, it will never truly get to “that point of perfection” but I guess it’s a good goal, right?!

3. Hospitality means you open your door even if you have fears!

Ever since I was in college, I’ve had a fear of undercooking meat (especially chicken!) and making people sick. Yes, something happened to a family member when they ate uncooked meat and I think it stemmed from that. But, rather than “get over it,” I continue to have that anxious feeling even after twenty years! This fear has caused me to always depend on Cameron to double check to make sure it’s done, and it has even prevented me from trying out cooking other meats. And unfortunately, this illogical fear isn’t the only one I have! 4. Hospitality is sacrificial (i.e. you can’t have everything under your control!). I will be the first to admit that I am one of those parents that give my children the “15 minute warning” of when we plan to leave, but end up walking out the door more like 30 minutes later! I have such a good time visiting that I tend to stay long when I’m at a friend’s house. And I crave that adult conversation especially now in the season we are with two young kids. But when someone opens their home, they usually don’t have control over when their guests leave — or even when they arrive. So in this way, it is sacrificial — you sacrifice your own time, privacy, and comforts.

After reading a few blogs on hospitality in the Bible, I learned (as 1 Peter 4:9 talks about) that part of showing true hospitality means doing it without complaining. And interestingly enough, this once again reminds me that the focus should not be on me, but on God whom I want to glorify through serving others in this manner, as well as the person whom I am trying to serve through this hospitality!

5. Hospitality on earth is a picture of things to come in Heaven.

Okay so this one is based on what I’m hoping it will be like, and what I imagine…

I love the greeting cards at Trader Joe’s. They have great pictures on them and they always say just enough — not too long and sappy, but enough to get you started on what you want to write yourself. And at $1, you can’t beat the price!

Last autumn, they sold one that has become one of my favorites. It was a photograph of a beautifully set table, placed outside, under the trendy string lights that transport you to Santa Barbara, Italy, or wherever else you’d like to be. The greeting was “The best moments are gathered around the table” or something to that effect. And that’s how I feel. I love food and I love spending time gathered around a meal. And to me, the photograph and greeting on the card makes me imagine how it’s going to be in Heaven — only a much bigger table and of course there will be no food allergies, intolerances or worrying about portion size! There will be lots of laughter and great stories to share, and the only tears that are shed will be ones of joy!

The last few weeks as Rick has been covering 1 Corinthians and calling it “a beautiful mess,” the same idea flows into this subject as well. Relationships are hard: they are messy. Hosts are messy, guests are messy, life is messy! But laying all this aside, they are also beautiful.

(Contributed by Viv F.)