#ignore the kiss i just wanted to draw him observing unimpressed

[obscenicon]

My Collection...

[visceravalentines]

Michael Myers is the human equivalent of a cat and you can't change my mind. Here is a collection of tiny fluffy blurbs proving my point. I hope you enjoy!

Michael Myers x GN!Reader, no content warnings besides the man himself

He’s ignored you all day.  You’ve tried to engage him in a movie, a walk around the block, even tried to entice him into the bedroom.  He dismissed you every time with a blank stare.  You finally gave up and started working on a project you’ve been putting off. 

Not twenty minutes later, he appears in the doorway and stands there watching.  You acknowledge him briefly, focused on your task.  You don’t hear him move but you sense him behind you, smile up at him when he bumps against your back. 

He brushes his fingers through the hair at the back of your neck.  “Oof, you gave me goosebumps,” you tell him.  You keep working. 

He puts his hands on your shoulders.  You kiss his wrist.  “How are you?” you ask.  You get no response.  You never do. 

After a minute he sighs, bends over you to rest his chin on your head, puts his big hand right in the middle of what you’re working on. 

You stop, fight a smile.  “Oh, now you want attention?”  He grunts noncommittally.  “Well I’m doing this now.” 

His pushes his face into the side of your neck and you feel a warm, wet pinch.  “Michael!  Did you just bite me?” 

He steps back, pulls your chair with him.  “Ohh my god.  That is so rude.”  You look up at him.  He is unmoved by your criticism.  “Can I help you?” 

He comes around in front of you, drops to his knees between your legs, leans his head against your chest.  You put your arms around him and tease his curls. 

“I have been trying to hang out with you all day, you know.”  He grunts again.  “Why am I tied into your schedule?”  He squeezes you.  “Fine, let’s hang out.” 

🔪

You look up from your book at the sound of the back door.  A moment later he steps into view, knife in hand, mask sprayed with blood. 

“Welcome home, handsome,” you say. 

He sets the knife on the table and moves closer.  You lay the book aside and get up to inspect him for injuries.  “Are you hurt?” 

He shakes his head once and digs his hand into his pocket. 

“Oh boy.  Did you bring me something?” 

He fishes out a tiny porcelain mouse abducted from someone’s mantle and places it in your open palm.  It is adorable and not covered in blood. 

“Wow, I love this,” you say honestly.  “Thank you!” 

He is reaching into his other pocket.  “Oh, two things?”  You hold out your other hand.  There is a clicking sound like nails on a tabletop.  Teeth.  They are teeth.  He has brought you six human teeth. 

You gather yourself for a second and then look up at him with a careworn smile.  “Thank you so much.  You really, really shouldn’t have.” 

His eyes glitter behind the mask.  You know he knows that you hate it and love it in equal measure.  That’s why he does it.  You should consider yourself lucky tonight; one time he brought you a finger.  A finger. 

🔪

The afternoon sun is golden as you get home from work.  You look up at the second-story window right in the front of the house and sure enough, you see his silhouette looming like a Halloween decoration.  It’s his favorite spot.  He spends hours looking out at the world, just observing, thinking. 

He stares at you blankly and you smile and wave.  Even from a distance, you can see his gaze shift from you to something across the street:  two women shooting the breeze while their kids draw with chalk on the sidewalk.  Maybe it’s because you know him so well, but the look on his face is utterly predatory. 

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath.  You’d better get in there and distract him with something, or your neighbors are going to end up on the news. 

🔪

“Okay, hear me out.” 

You regard him uneasily, hands on your hips.  He already looks unimpressed. 

“We’re having grilled cheese and tomato soup.  You love that.” 

He does.  He is waiting for the bad news. 

“But we’re out of milk.  So I have to make the soup with water.” 

His ability to communicate such abject disgust with zero change to his expression is incredible. 

“I know.  I’m sorry.  I promise it will still be good.” 

He is the pickiest eater you have ever met.  Not only is his list of acceptable foods limited, but he eats on a strict schedule with almost no wiggle room.  There is only one right way to make the things he likes, and a thousand wrong ways.  He would rather starve than eat something he thinks is gross. 

When you present him with the offending soup he looks at you like you have spit in it in front of him. 

“Look, Michael, I promise it’s fine.”  You sip a spoonful.  It is not fine.  He knows it. 

He eats the grilled cheese with enthusiasm.  He finishes yours too.  He pushes the soup away and does not touch it.  No amount of cajoling will convince him otherwise. 

🔪

You are on the couch, Michael’s head in your lap.  You have been stroking his curls, scratching his neck and shoulders, caressing his handsome face for almost an hour.  Every time you try to get up or change position he grips your knee tightly, will not let you move.  Periodically he lets out a contented sigh, adjusts his position, guides your hand to a new spot. 

Your legs are falling asleep.  You continue running your thumb over his jaw as you shift your weight just a little, just enough to free up the circulation. 

He sits up abruptly.  “Sorry, Mikey, come back.” 

He stands up and stalks away without looking at you.  You watch with absolute bewilderment as he sits on the other couch, makes himself comfortable, and then looks at you like nothing happened. 

“You are so fucking weird,” you whisper, almost to yourself. 

🔪

You are out for a midnight stroll on the arm of a murderer who, for now, is content to leave everyone alive.  The moon is full and the street is bright beneath it.  Michael’s expression is serene.  You know he enjoys the breeze on his face when he can get it.  Walks like this are so normal, so refreshing, you can almost pretend it’s not three in the morning. 

A branch hangs over the sidewalk.  You move to duck around it, but Michael takes hold of it with his free hand and snaps it in half. 

“Well that was…effective,” you remark.  He looks at you impassively. 

A block later, someone has left a tricycle in their front yard.  He pulls away from you, picks it up with one hand.  You furrow your brow in confusion.  He throws it lazily into the neighbor’s yard. 

“Michael,” you say, “you can’t do that.”  But he can, and he does, and he pulls you along before you can drag it back where it belongs. 

He behaves himself for the next few minutes, and you are nearly lulled back into contentment.  You don’t question it when he stops and picks up a rock; he’s always bringing home odds and ends.  He does not look at you as he lobs the projectile across the street directly into the front window of a house and you hear the glass splinter.  The sound is deafening in the silence. 

“Michael Myers!” you hiss, grabbing his arm.  He is smirking.  For him it is the equivalent of a shit-eating grin.  “I cannot believe you just did that!”  Lights turn on in the house and you haul him quickly down the street.  “I swear to god I can’t take you anywhere.” 

[rekrappeter]

find yourself somewhere, somehow

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader, slight cedric diggory x fem!reader

summary: you and fred are madly in love with one another, but have never expressed your feelings to each other. every one else knows though. what if that one secret ends up ruining the friendship you both have been trying to save?

warnings: mutual pining, inaccurate Harry Potter timeline, swearing, typos

notes: some of this was requested, some not. this is my 3rd time trying to post it, please give it some love, I actually quite like it <3

“I think I’m going to ask Angelina to the Yule Ball,” your lips macked together at your best friend’s words, letting them fall on deaf ears as you narrowed your eyes at the words on the page in front of you. You could feel that the twins’ gazes were on you, and you tried to suppress any form of annoyance or jealousy passing across your face.  A heartbeat passed before Fred Weasley spoke up again, “Did you hear what I said?” 

You looked up at the red-haired boy sitting in front of you, your attention being pulled away from your study notes that you were carefully highlighting. “You were talking to me?” you asked, feigning confusion. 

Fred gave you a puzzled look, his brows creasing together, “Who else would I be talking to?” he said, his voice lowering as Snape strutted by the table you were sat at. You all turned your attention to your parchment quickly, letting him pass before Fred tapped the top of your book to get you to continue the conversation.

“George,” you deadpanned, your eyes flickering to his twin. 

“I heard about this all night long,” George said, distaste evident in his voice and he rolled his eyes swiftly. You stiffened a giggle, watching Fred knock his shoulder with his, his own amusement evident in his smirk. 

“So, what do you think?” Fred beamed, a twinkle in his eye. 

“I-” you paused, glancing down the table at Angelina who was laughing quietly at something her friend said. There was no doubt she was beautiful, no doubt that she was good enough for your best friend and you would be ecstatic for Fred if she did accept his offer. You would be, really, if it wasn’t for the massive crush that you harbored for him since you were twelve years old. You remembered the moment it happened; he was trying to teach you how to play quidditch outside of The Burrow during the winter holidays and something went horribly wrong when you were two meters off the floor - you lost your nerve and tumbled off the broom, but Fred was there underneath it to soften your blow. You remembered staring into his eyes deeply, your mouth parting in shock at the sudden wave of feelings that welcomed you when you were so close to him. He ended up dislocating his elbow that day, but he never blamed you for it. 

You felt someone nudge your hand, bringing your gaze from Angelina back to Fred. You plastered on a fake cheerful grin, nodding your head excitedly, “Go for it, you will be great together.” 

Fred was waiting for your blessing, and within minutes of you edging him on, he had secured a date to the ball happening in two weeks’ time. For the remainder of the study hall, you had to listen to Fred gush about Angelina and you had to do everything in your power not to groan and lose your cool. You avoided eye contact with George, knowing that he’d give you an unimpressed look. He knew how you felt about his twin, despite you never truly admitting it to him. You’d brush off his question and change the subject, but it wasn’t hard to see the admiration you had for him. 

“Do you have a date yet?” George questioned, looking down at you. You were walking through the castle on the way to the great hall, the twins on either side of you. He hadn’t heard you talk about going with anyone or thinking of asking anyone. In truth, you had hoped that both you and Fred would be dateless the day of the ball and ultimately end up going together - but that plan was ruined. 

You pursed your lips, keeping your stare forward as you shook your head. “No, I don’t.” 

Fred draped his arm around your shoulder, you stumbled slightly at the heavyweight. “Imagine we have dates, and you don’t, who would have thought?” You knew that he was only teasing and sometimes he never uses his brain before he speaks, but that didn’t lessen the irritation that exploded inside of you. 

“Shut up,” you snapped, your retort falling in between his rambles of how surprised he was that you didn’t have a date. You pushed yourself away from him and stormed off in the direction of the common room, not feeling hungry anymore. Fred gawked at your figure rushing off, glancing at George to ask what was wrong with you. 

“You’re an idiot, that’s what’s wrong with her,” George sighed, shaking his head at his twin. He walked into the Great Hall, Fred trailing behind slowly. “Where are you going?” George turned to face him, placing a hand on his chest. 

“To-”

“Don’t be stupid, you upset her so go fix it,” Fred sighed, knowing that he was right. He twisted on his heels and walked the familiar way to the Gryffindor dorms. Exasperating the password, he jumped through the entrance and spotted you sitting down on one of the love-seats. The common room was empty as expected, the light from the fire gleaming across your face. When you looked up at him, he saw the tears streaming down your face just before you wiped them away quickly. He hated the fact that he made you cry, but sometimes he just couldn’t control how he rambled on. He never thought about how his words affected you because often you would join in on his jokes but he didn’t know that this would be a sensitive subject for you.

“What do you want?” you mumbled into the sleeve of your jumper, bringing your legs up to cuddle into your front. Fred sat down beside you, wrapping his arms around you. He ignored the pain in his chest when you pushed him away from you, shuffling down the couch slightly. 

“y/n,” Fred whined, “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“The fact that I don’t have a date to a once in a lifetime event? Yeah, it’s not a big deal, Fred.” 

“You still have plenty of time to find one,” he said, “It’s not for another two weeks.”

“I don’t want to be someone’s last resort,” you cried, the emotions getting the better of you, “I wanted someone to be excited to go with me.” You looked up at your best friend, your vision slightly blurry from the tears forming and he looked like a lost puppy staring back at you. Fred was never one to be good with comforting you when you got upset, it was usually George who was the twin you’d go to for problems. Fred was great as a distraction, he’d bring you out and do something fun with you. This was new territory for him. 

Fred wrapped his arms around you again, and this time you let him. He sighed in relief letting his head fall on top of yours. “I’ll take you, I’ll forget about Angelina.” 

You laughed, rolling your eyes with an effort, “That’s not what I want, Fred.” 

“You don’t want to go with me?” He said, a teasing taunt in his tone. 

Placing your hands on his chest and pushing yourself up to look at him, you ignored the way his eyes followed your hand and trailed up to your face. His lips parted slightly, and he felt the sudden urge to close the gap between your lips but he refrained himself from doing so. Fred wasn’t the most observant person out there, but he knew that kissing you wouldn’t help the situation. “You know I would love to go with you but you asked someone else first,” you tried to play it off as teasing, but the sorrow was evident. Fred sighed, nodding his head, and the long strands dangled over his eyes. Giggling, you brushed them away with your fingers, letting your touch linger. “You need to cut all this.” 

“You don’t like it?” Fred pouted, his bottom lip jutting out. 

Your eyes scanned his face, the soft look in his own orbs making you wonder if you ever felt the same way about you that you did him. Considering that you’ve been friends for years without anything happening, you came to the conclusion that it was just a one-sided thing. You were the pathetic one head over heels in love with your best friend. “Your hair looks good anyway.” 

“Whoever asks you to the ball will be one lucky bitch,” Fred gleamed, jumping up from the couch and pulling you up with him, “I’m starving!”

The next few days passed with little memory of the conversation between you and Fred. Everything went back to normal; the trio that consisted of yourself, Fred and George returned back to being impractical jokers and the comments about not having a date to the Yule Ball became nearly nonexistent. With the Ball drawing in quickly, you tried your best to hide the panic that was looming inside you. It wasn’t a big deal to show up alone, if that’s what it would have to result in but it would be nice to be able to dance with someone while your best friends are dancing with their dates. You started to write up a list of potential candidates but from a discussion in Charms with a Ravenclaw, everyone that you thought you could ask already had a date. 

It was like everyone knew that you didn’t have a date to the biggest event to ever happen at Hogwarts. It was the sympathy looks from first-year witches, and snarky chuckles from sixth-year Slytherins that had their dates since the ball was announced. With a simple roll of your eyes, you smile regardless of what they think of you. If it resulted in you having to dance alone or in a group, you didn’t care. The Yule Ball was merely two days away and with a dress picked out, you couldn’t even think about the effort of having to change the colour to match some random guy’s bowtie. 

You had excused yourself from the Gryffindor common room where your friends were gathered around to go to the Owlery to send the letters that were piling up in your bedside drawer. “Do you want me to go with you?” Fred hollered as you were dunking out the entrance. 

“No, I’ll only be quick.” You called back, and started the short journey. A feverish chill had settled across the castle, people were on edge with the unknown of what the Triwizard Tournament could bring, and yet the bubbling murmur of excitement for the ball still settled over the fear and apprehension. You jumped up the steps, leaping two at a time but what you didn’t expect was the top step to be covered in ice. The moment your foot landed on the step, you knew you were done for. A squeal passed your lips and you were on route of tumbling backwards down the stairs, just as a hand grasped your wrists and pulled you up. Your breathing was heavy, ragged, as your life flashed before your eyes. 

“Woah there,” A deep voice interrupted the memory of when you were five years old. You opened your eyes and met the stare of Cedric Diggory, his grey eyes wide. His pink lips curled into a smile of relief, and he helped you steady yourself. “That would have been devastating.” 

You shook your head in shock, your eyes falling down the long stairs that you were almost laying at the bottom off, surely acquiring some broken bones on the way. “Th-thank you, Cedric,” you smiled at your saviour, before glancing down at how his fingers were still wrapped around your wrist. 

“Oh, sorry,” he mumbled, pulling back and taking a step away from you. “H-how are you? I haven’t seen you since-”

“The World Cup,” you finished, nodding your head at the memory, “I never thought Hogwarts was that big until this year, it’s filled with students now,” you mentioned, taking into consideration the extra students that were welcomed to Hogwarts at the start of the year, “I’ve seen you of course, you’re the big celebrity this year.” 

A light blush danced across his cheeks and you weren’t sure if it was the wind or your words having the effect on him. “I wouldn’t call myself a celebrity,” he chuckled, running his fingers through his brown hair. 

“You were really great in the first task, I did go looking for you but you were in hospital because…” you trailed off sentence, watching Cedric grimace at the memory of getting burnt by the dragon during the very first task. You slowly started to walk around Cedric to the entrance of the owlery, “I have letters to post, so I better get going… but best of luck for -”

“Do you have a date for the Ball?” Cedric blurted out, the cool composure that you were so used to seeing him dawn on gone. He let out a shaky breath, the cold air creating a cloud in front of him. 

You chuckled slightly, “Haven’t you heard? I’m the only sixth year that is completely undateable.”

“Well, not the only sixth year,” Cedric blushed again, he gulped, making his Adam's apple bobble slightly. 

“I thought you were going with Cho,” your brows creased in confusion. You remembered the conversation with Hermione and Ginny from nights ago when you were quickly brainstorming the last single men in sixth year that could potentially ask you out but Cedric was linked with Cho Chang, much to your dismay. 

“I was…” Cedric sighed, “But she called it off last night, s-she wasn’t comfortable going with me as a champion and have all eyes on her.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry about that.” 

“Would you be my date?” 

“Me?” you gawked, looking around for the twins to pawn this off as some sort of joke but your red-haired friends were nowhere in sight. 

Cedric nodded, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I would have asked you sooner, but I kind of thought you’d be going with Fred and when I heard that he asked Angelina, I was a bit confused.” 

“Myself and Fred are just friends,” you smiled, “B-but I’d love to go with you, Cedric. It’d be a shame for both of us to go alone when we can go together.”

You returned to the Gryffindor common room with a large smile on your face. Your friends were still lingering around the fire, trying to get the warmth into them after having Quidditch practice after their classes. Fred stretched over the couch, looking over it with hooded eyes, he must have been sleeping. “What took you so long?” 

You swatted his legs off the empty cushion beside him, and took a seat before his legs draped over your lap and you sighed in content. “Bumped into someone, guess who has a date to the ball?” you teased, a smirk tugging at the side of your lips. That gained the attention of Harry and Hermione who were studying, Hermione’s ears perking in excitement. 

“Who?” 

“You’ll see,” you teased, giggling at the yells of protest. You glanced over at Fred, who was unnervingly quiet. “You okay?” you mumbled, placing your hands on his legs and pulling at his leg hairs playfully. 

Fred didn’t answer straight away, his eyes scanning your face before he nodded, “Who is it?” 

“You’ll see,” you repeated, chewing on your bottom lip. 

“You’re not even going to tell me, your best friend?” 

“Nope,” you popped, a yawn passing your lips. You ignored Fred’s dramatic pout, moving his legs off your lap to lay down on the couch beside him. It was normal for you to do this, but something about doing it now made you tense. You couldn’t pinpoint it but when his hand rested on your hip to make sure you didn’t fall off the edge, you felt dizzy and lightheaded. You closed your eyes tightly, but when you breathed in, all you could smell was Fred’s aftershave. It wasn’t strong but it was enough to make you woo. 

Fred watched you softly, how your features became relaxed the moment he placed his hand on your hip and he wondered if he was being foolish not making you his. He constantly ignored his brothers pestering, even Percy had confronted him one christmas. “Are you excited now?” He breathed out, watching your eyes flutter open. 

“I was always excited, but now I know I won’t be left alone when you’re off dancing with your date,” you replied. It came out more snappy than you expected and judging from the taken back look in Fred’s eyes, you knew he took it in the way you didn’t want it to be taken. 

“Look, I did offer to take you-” Fred pressed but you shook your head, dropping your forehead onto his chest. 

“Can we not get into this? It doesn’t matter anymore, we’re friends, Fred. You shouldn’t feel obliged to take me to dances, we’re not kids anymore.” Fred’s face dropped into the crease of your hair, breathing in the scent of your shampoo and he nodded shortly. You both lingered in each other’s body, ignoring the gaze from your friends. George looked at Ron, giving him a pointed look and Ron shrugged his shoulders in return. It was obvious you were both so in love with each other, and neither of them knew why you were delaying the inevitable. 

Fred’s eyes scanned the crowd that were gathered in the Great Hall, that was overly decorated in white fairy lights and drapes that turned the bland gold room into a beautiful, magical event. Despite the gorgeous angel standing next to him, a wide smile on Angelina’s face, he couldn’t stop himself from looking at you but you were nowhere in sight. The worry started to settle over him, his overalls becoming slightly sweaty. “Is that y/n?” Angelina’s voice tore through his thoughts, his eyes following to where she was pointing. 

His mouth fell open at the sight of you, a wide smile on your face as your arms linked with Cedric Diggory’s, who was leading you to the dancefloor. His eyes scanned your body, his breathing hitched at how beautiful you looked. He knew Ginny said you were stunning in your dress but he didn’t believe how gorgeous you were until he saw you himself. 

“Wow, she’s beautiful,” Angelina whispered, eyes flickering between Fred’s face and your figure. 

“Yeah, she is,” Fred breathed out, his grip tightening on her waist. 

“Why didn’t you ask her?” Fred’s attention fell from his best friend to his date, confusion sweeping across his face and Angelina rolled her eyes. “Fred, everyone knows that you’re in love with her.” 

“Wh-what?” he sputtered out, but he didn’t argue any further. He knew by the pointed look that his date gave him that he wouldn’t be able to charm his way out of this situation. His shoulders deflated and his eyes flickered to your smiling face, his stomach churning at the sight of Cedric’s hand resting on your lower back as he spun you around elegantly. 

Angelina stepped towards the dancefloor, following the lead of everyone else, and started to lead Fred in the moves before he took over. His red hair was brushed around his face, and his pout grew with each second passing. “It’s not too late to tell her how you feel.” 

“That’s the thing, Ang, it is.” 

“Fred, don’t be so naive. She’s in love with you too, it’s so bloody obvious,” Angelina chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief. Fred spun her around to the beat of the music, lifting her off the floor like he’s practiced it so many times. Fred was trying to come up with some sort of joke to maneuver the conversation topic from you but his mind was blank - actually, the only thing that filled his mind was you. The way you laughed so loud, the way your eyes twinkled underneath the torches, how you’d devour a cheese burger in half a second, how you were always so keen to participate in their jokes but always the first to flee the scene in fear of getting caught. “I don’t know if I should be offended or-” 

“I’m sorry,” Fred cut her off, feeling slightly guilty for using her as a decoy. “Let’s enjoy tonight.” He announced, taking one more look at you for the night, just missing the longing gaze that you were sending his way. There was no one else you’d rather be dancing with than him, despite the Hufflepuff prefect making you feel extra special tonight, his attention solely on you. It just wasn’t the attention you yearned for. 

The days following the Yule Ball were a mixture of madness and chaos. They blended into one as you were whisked away to the Burrow for Christmas break with your second family, only minutes after seeing your own family for the first time since the start of the new school year. You always knew how hectic this time of year got but you never minded it much, you always enjoyed being surrounded by the Weasleys and the smell of Molly’s homemade double chocolate chip cookies made it all worthwhile. Except this year was slightly different. 

It was always Fred that picked you up from your front porch, but this year it was George. You always shared a room with the twins while you stayed in The Burrow, but this year you were lodging with Hermione and Ginny. Fred was always the first person to run down the stairs and take the seat next to you in the morning for breakfast, but this year the seat was always the last one vacant. It wasn’t only you that noticed this either, Ginny and Harry had been whispering about it all day long, Ron and George pondered what could be going on between the two of you, and it was Hermione that confronted you about the odd behaviour. But you only had one answer, ‘I haven’t a bloody clue what is going on’. 

After the vaguest of conversations with Hermione, you trotted up to the twins’ room knowing that George was outside helping Arthur with the chickens he wanted to invest in. Fred was nowhere to be seen, the best bet would be his bedroom. You knocked quietly on the door, peeking your head through the open gap and seeing Fred laying on his stomach in the single bed. The image was laughable, his long legs dangling from the edge of the bed and the quilt a thousand different colours kicked to the floor. His arms were tucked underneath his pillow and his face was pointed away from you. 

“Freddie?” you whispered, trying to get his attention. Fred’s eyes squeezed tightly at your voice and he tried desperately to calm his breathing. Maybe if you thought he was asleep, you’d leave him alone. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to speak to you, it was more so the fear of blabbering out how he truly  felt about you and the prospect of ruining years of friendship. He heard his bedroom door click shut after seconds of silence, and he was just about to twist towards it when he heard your sock clad feet shuffle through the room. “Freddie?” you asked again, but he didn’t budge.

You sighed and chewed on your bottom lip nervously, you didn’t want to wake him up. He wasn’t the friendliest person after being bothered while sleeping, but your heart ached for feeling his warmth again. You unconsciously found yourself laying on the smallest bit of bed that was available to you, your arm wrapping around his torso to hold yourself up. His back was to your chest, and he shuffled slightly to let you get comfortable but you didn’t pay much mind to it. You nudge your face into his t-shirt, letting his scent take over all your senses and you place a soft kiss on the material. “I miss you,” you whispered into the silence. 

Fred was staring blankly at the wall, his heart hammering against his chest as your fingers grasped his t-shirt with all their might. He reached for your hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it softly. Your breath hitched in your throat but you didn’t say anything. You just lay there next to him in peace and quiet, your uneven breaths mixing with his. 

“y/n, this letter is for you,” Ron called from across the table, holding an off-white envelope. You looked up from the bacon and scrambled eggs on your plate in shock, you never got letters sent for you to The Burrow. Your parents would usually call to check up on you and all of your close friends were gathered around the table. 

“Who’s it from?” Fred wondered as he occupied his usual seat next to you. The previous night where you fell asleep next to him brought everything back to somewhat normal. He was finally acknowledging you in the mornings and spending his time with you. You shrugged, tearing the letter open and your eyes widened at the signature written so beautifully at the bottom. “Cedric Diggory,” Fred scoffed, a roll of his eyes gaining the attention of his brothers around him. 

“Cedric Diggory wrote to you?” Ginny gleamed, her eyes widening in delight as a contrast to Fred's displeased look. 

“What did he say?” Hermione asked. You were about to stand up from the table, and excuse yourself but from the peering eyes of your friends, you knew you wouldn’t get far without their curiosity minds following you. 

“Just read it aloud,” Harry cheered, and he frowned quickly when Hermione shot him a look to be quiet. But Ron soon joined in and it was like a dominios effect, you sighed and gave in, clearing your voice to read the letter for the first time. 

“Dear y/n,” you started, interrupted already by Fred’s sigh of annoyance, “I had tried to contact you at your family home but they have directed all my calls to Weasleys’ household. I have tried several times to get in touch with you but seem to be having trouble - I have left messages. I hope this doesn’t come across as desperate or obnoxious but I would thoroughly enjoy it if you were to accompany me to Hogsmede this weekend. I look forward to hearing from you..” you paused, before whispering the last part, “yours, Cedric Diggory.” 

There was a deafening silence as you finished the last syllable, the words blurring in front of you on the parchment as you tried to make sense of the letter. Of course you had a great time at the ball with Cedric, but you never had any intention of getting romantically involved with him. Not when your heart was obviously set on someone else. Your mind was brought back to the kitchen of the Weasleys’ when the girls in front of you gasped out loud, squealing as they grasped for the letter to reread it. The boys lost interest the moment you started to speak, except for Fred, who fell back in the chair and began finishing his breakfast. 

“What is your secret?” Ginny gawked. “Cedric Diggory wants to go on a date with you!” 

“I-It’s not a date,” you mumbled, sitting back down. The tension between you and Fred was back, the hour of normality that you were blessed with vanished. “It’s not a date,” you repeated, but your words were aimed at Fred, who creased his eyebrows in confusion. 

“It sounds like a date to me and a bloody good one at that,” he flashed you a smile, but you could see beneath it. Something was different between the two of you, like the aura has shifted and you’ve become one. It didn’t make sense but the way Fred was feeling, you could feel it too. How his heart was hammering and his stomach was infested with annoying butterflies. It’s how you felt when you looked at him. 

“We have plans for the weekend,” you reminded him. 

“Cancel them, it’s okay.” 

“No, Fred, it’s a tradition. I can’t just cancel them.” 

Fred sighed, tidying up his plate and standing up from the table. You followed his lead and left the group to analyse the letter, you went to call him but he swiftly turned around. Your chest hit his, his taller figure hovering over you. “I’ll make it easier for you, I’ll cancel them. There, you’re free this weekend.”

“What are you even talking about?” you sighed, frustration getting the better of you. “I never said I wanted to go out with him.”

“Why wouldn’t you not? He’s Cedric freakin’ Diggory!” There was no room for arguing, no matter what you threw at him, he’d have a comeback so you just sighed and gave in. Waving the white flag of surrender for the day and it wasn’t even ten in the morning. 

There was a lake not two miles from The Burrow, it was hidden beyond trees taller than churches and you’d have never found it if it weren’t for the adventurous boys that you grew up with. You were supposed to be nestled in the corner of a tavern with the Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain, sharing a warm butterbeer and having that first date jitters but instead you found yourself looking over the frozen lake. It was always frozen at this time of the year. You had a large black coat on, fake fur decorating the hood as you breathed out and created your own night time clouds of air. You had your skates by your feet, too cold to change into them.

Every year on the last night before returning back to Hogwarts, it was a tradition with you and Fred to ice-skate across the lake. It was the one time that you were guaranteed to feel free and relieve any stress that has been building up on your shoulders. But it didn’t feel the same alone and you couldn’t bring yourself to put your skates on. You fell back against the grass that was decorated in white snow from the downpour earlier that day, letting out a strangled scream that you’ve been holding in. 

“Bloody hell, what was that?” A grin erupted on your face and you sat up, looking over your shoulder to see Fred standing there in a brown tattered coat, his skates dangling from his fingers. He had a yellow bobble hat on his head, his hair tucked beneath it. 

“You showed,” you smiled, kicking your shoes off and pulling your skates on with great difficulty. Fred followed your lead, sitting down next to you. 

“Of course I did.” 

You sighed, strapping the laces, “I wasn’t sure if you would, you’re acting really strange lately.” 

Fred gave you a sympathetic glance, a small smile tugging on his lips as he watched you stand up and stretch your gloved hand out to help him up. He took it, using his strength to lift himself up so you didn’t have to use a muscle. You slowly made your way to the iced surface, letting Fred test it out and he skated away in circles. “Freddie,” you called back, pouting slightly. 

A raspy laugh left his lips as he shook his head in disbelief and came back to you, letting you grasp onto his arm as you took your first steps onto the ice. “You do know you can skate, right?” Fred asked.

“I just need your help for the first five minutes, you know that,” you chuckled. You both skated around the nature-created rink, silence settling between you. The moon overlooked the two of you skating around, hand in hand - the perfect pair in a state of ignorance. Fred let go of your hand, skating in front of you and you couldn’t help but laugh as he showed off his skills. His lanky legs are quite talented at twisting around one another. Fred looked up at you, your smile beaming at him and that’s when he lost his balance, tripping over his own feet and tumbling to the ice. Your eyes widened but you were going to quick to stop and you fell over his limbs, your chin banging off the ice. 

“Fuck, are you okay, y/n?” Fred scrambled over to you, his hand cupping your chin and seeing the blood seeping from the cut. His worry was cut short when you erupted into a fit of unstoppable giggles, ignoring the pain that soared through your face. The image of Fred’s face falling flat on his ass will forever be sketched into your mind now. “Shut up,” Fred huffed, his hand dropping from your face. 

You crawled over to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you tried everything in your power to stop from giggling but you couldn’t. It got to the point that your laughter became so contagious that Fred’s chest began rumbling with his own laughter. You sat in the middle of the ice rink, asses soaked and cuts on your face as you laughed for what felt like hours. 

“I missed this,” you announced in a heavy sigh, your stomach hurting from laughing so much. 

“I’m sorry for acting like an idiot the last few weeks,” Fred said. 

“What was the story with that?” you asked, reaching to fix the hat that was crooked on his head. His hands wrapped around your wrist, his gloves fingers maneuvering to hold your hands close. Your eyes connected with his, your breath hitching at the sight of his brown orbs telling you everything before he spoke a word. “Fred..”

Fred sighed, dropping your hands and scrambling to stand up. You followed his movements, skating to where your shoes and belongings were left. His broad shoulders were slouched as he got off his skates and you weren’t sure if he was going to walk away again. “Fred, please don’t shut me out again.” 

“I-I-” Fred mumbled, his eyes screwing shut before fluttering open again, “Why didn’t you go out with Cedric tonight?” 

The question took you off guard, confusion evident in your expression. “I told you already, we had plans! We do this every year!” 

“You cancelled plans with a future boyfriend for me?” Fred asked, trying to clarify the situation. 

“What are you talking about, Fred? We’re best friends, I’d always choose you over-” 

“Is that all we’ll ever be?” The words made you dizzy, the question heavy with every emotion you’ve ever felt for Fred. You looked up at him, your socks getting soaked as you stood there in shock, your shoes forgotten about. “That… That question came out more forced than I wanted it to, but I just need to know, will we ever be more?” 

“That’s not for me to decide…” you whispered, seeing his expression falter, “You’ve never- you’ve never told me how you felt about me.” 

“I thought I made it obvious.”

You scoffed, shaking your head, “By taking someone else to the Ball? Or by encouraging me to go on a date? Or when we were thirteen and you told George that you only seen me as a sister-”

“Okay, they weren’t my finest moments, I’ll admit that..” Fred wanted to slap himself for being so stupid and naive, “But do you feel the same way that I feel about you?”

“If you think that I’m the most amazing person in the world, that you can’t live without me, and that you’re sick of spending every moment with me and not being able to kiss me… then yes, I feel the same..” you breathed out the words, your chest beating rapidly. When Fred processed the words, a large grin filled with relief washed over his face. He took a step closer to you, and you took it on yourself to close the gap between your bodies. He dipped his head and connected his lips to yours, his hands placing themselves respectfully on your waist as you wrapped around his shoulders. The kiss wouldn’t have been deemed the most magical - your teeth hitting off one another and your tongues sloppy mixing together, but when he pulled away and laughed, your heart deemed it to be the most magical moment in your life. 

[marjansmarwani]

that’s when I knew

[Read on Ao3]

5 times they almost said I love you, and 1 time they finally did.

--

Tarlos Week Day 3: First Love Confession

Day 3 of @tarlosweek2020! Shoutout to @officerrxyes and @lifeonashell for reading it through last week when I was not feeling great about it - you are both lifesavers! Also to @bellakitse because I realized when reading it through that at least one part was unconsciously inspired by something I read in one of your fics once! 

----

1

 It had been a long day. TK could feel it weighing on him, wearing in him - the fatigue sinking right into his bones. Firefighting had always been an active, energy-consuming profession and TK was no stranger to the bone-deep exhaustion that followed some days. But today he was supposed to head over to Carlos’s and they were supposed to go out. They were supposed to meet with some of Carlos’s friends that Carlos wanted TK to meet. It was important to him and TK was determined to not disappoint him. 

 He arrives at Carlos’s house shortly after wrapping up his shift and covers a yawn as he walks up to the front door. He lets himself in and walks through the house until he finds Carlos in the bedroom, still in the process of getting ready. 

 “Hey you,” he says from the doorway, leaning against the doorframe and admiring the view. Carlos turns around quickly, expression shifting from surprise to pleasure when he catches view of TK. 

 “Hey yourself,” he says as he crosses the room to give him a kiss. He pulls away and chuckles, “I didn’t hear you come in.” 

 “What great observational skills you have, Officer,” TK quipped, flashing Carlos a cocky grin in response to the exasperated look thrown his way. 

 “Maybe I’d be more observant if I didn’t have to spend so much time figuring out what to wear to kind of look like I belong with this ridiculously handsome boyfriend I have.” 

 “So you’re saying it’s my fault for being too good looking?” he shot back, tone still teasing even as a blush rose up his face. 

 “Yes, exactly. All your fault.” 

 “That’s sweet, but also false. Anyone with eyes can see that you are clearly the better looking one in this relationship.” 

 “Now who’s making jokes?” 

 TK was about to fire back some other teasing comment about Carlos’s good looks (really, did the other man own a mirror?) when his words were stolen by a deep yawn that slipped past TK’s defenses. Carlos looked up from his dresser to see a guilty look on TK’s face. 

 “Sorry,” he said quickly, “it was a really long shift.” 

 Carlos placed down the shirt he had just gathered from his dresser and crossed closer to TK again. He frowned as he drew closer, examining TK as he walked. 

 “You look tired,” he noted, “are you sure you want to go out tonight?” 

 “I can make it,” TK promised, “I’ll be fine.” 

 “That’s not what I asked TK - are you sure you want to go tonight? We could stay in instead, just hang out.” 

 “You made plans,” TK objected, pushing himself off of the doorway with some effort, “you wanted me to meet your friends. We don’t need to ruin everyone’s evening just because I am a little tired.”

 “You look like you’re going to fall over TK.” 

 “Then I guess you’re just going to have to keep your arm around me, keep me upright.” 

 Carlos ignored his very logical reasoning and stepped closer, examining him. “You look awful,” he noted, “did you get any sleep at all?” 

 “Weren’t you just talking about how handsome I was?” A pointed look from Carlos made him sigh as he answered the question, “not really. Maybe an hour all together; it was a busy night for calls. Every time we got back the alarms went off again, most of the time before we even managed to get back to our bunks.” 

 Carlos didn’t say a word, just put down the shirt he was still holding and pulled out his phone. He shot off a text before reaching for TK’s shoulders and steering him towards the bed. 

 “We are not going anywhere and you are going to bed.”

 “What about your friends?” TK asked as Carlos returned to the dresser and pulled out a pair of sweats. 

 “I told them you had a rough shift and we needed to reschedule. There is no way I am going to drag you out with no sleep, I don’t care who we’re meeting.”

 “But…” 

 “No buts,” Carlos cut across his weak protestations as he handed him the sweats he had just grabbed. “You are in no state to go out, and even if you weren’t about to fall over, there is no way you’d enjoy yourself like this. You don’t need to push yourself like this for me TK - I’m happy as long as I get to spend time with you.” 

 TK looked down at the sweats in his hand and then back up at Carlos, “Fine, but there is no way I’m going to lay in your bed alone on date night.” 

 “Way ahead of you,” Carlos agreed as he pulled out another pair of sweats for himself. He made quick work of changing and joined TK in the bed, laying behind him and wrapping his arms around his body and pulling him tightly against himself. TK savored the closeness, the simple intimacy of it. He relaxed in Carlos’s embrace and allowed the tension to leave his body. The exhaustion he had been holding at bay drew closer, ready to overtake him. 

 “I can’t believe you’d rather go to bed with me at 8 like an old man than go out with your friends,” Tk sleepily observed. 

 He felt the vibrations of a chuckle on his back as Carlos responded, “don’t tell anyone, but I think I like you better. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now.” 

 A warmth spread through TK; a kind of contentment he had never felt with another person. He felt wanted in a way he never had before - in a way that went far beyond the physical desires. 

 “Good Night, Carlos,” he breathed out before sleep claimed him. His voice was soft from emotion and exhaustion, but he hoped that somehow Carlos could hear the sentiments hidden in those three words. They were the wrong three words, but they were the only ones he had right now. He hoped that they were enough. 

 2

“What are you doing?” 

 Carlos’s voice from the doorway startled TK, causing the phone he had been speaking into to fall from his hand onto the bed. “Nothing,” he said quickly. Carlos’s eyebrows shot up. 

 TK sighed and fished his phone out from the tangle of blankets it had fallen into and handed it to Carlos with a cringe. 

 Carlos took the phone with a hesitant expression, and his eyebrows rose even further when he saw which app was open. He moved his gaze from the phone to meet TK’s with an unreadable expression. 

 “Are you...duolingoing Spanish?” 

 “Yes?” TK answered sheepishly. 

 Carlos sat down on the bed next to him, “Why?” 

 TK shrugged, “I mean, I know your family speaks English but you’ve mentioned that they like to use Spanish from time to time, and I just thought it would be nice. To know what was going on, to not have them have to stick to English because of me. I know this won’t make me fluent or anything, but maybe just enough to get the basics.” 

 Carlos was silent for a few moments and TK looked at him nervously, “You’re not mad, are you?” 

 That got a reaction out of him, “What? No! Why would I be mad?” 

 TK shrugged, “because I kept this from you? Because I am likely going to butcher your families’ native language? Because it maybe perpetuates some stereotype?” 

 Carlos just blinked. “You know none of those are true, right?” he said after a moment. 

 TK sighed, “I just...don't want to screw this up.” 

 Carlos scoffed, “Please - my mother is going to love you regardless. So will my aunts - they can’t resist a pretty face. The rest of them will just like you because you’re you, and if that wasn’t enough the fact that I like you enough to bring you around will change their minds. You don’t need to do this Ty - you’re plenty just as you are.” 

 The smile TK gave him was small, but it held all the warmth of the sun, “I know I don’t have to, but I want to.” 

 Carlos chuckled as he handed him back his phone, “Careful - they might think you’re trying too hard,” he said in a teasing tone.  

 “Maybe I am,” TK said with a shrug, “but you’re worth it.” 

 “Even with the demonic owl?” 

 TK nodded, “Listening to him is worth it if I can make you smile.” 

 Carlos’s heart swelled. He leaned over to plant a kiss on TK’s cheek. “That’s high praise, I’m flattered.” 

 “You should be. I wouldn’t do this for just anyone you know.” 

 The words were light and teasing, but the unsaid words were there - plain as day in the space between them. 

 But you’re not just anyone.

 They locked eyes and the sentiment traveled between them. They both knew it, both could fill in the blanks. They both knew what it was TK was not saying, what he wasn’t ready to say yet. Carlos swallowed and nodded, heart skipping a beat when TK smiled at him. 

 He leaned forward and captured that smile with his own, drawing him into a kiss. On the bed between them, a little green owl popped up to wave through the phone screen, but they both ignored it. They were too lost in each other; the rest for the world a distant memory. 

 3

 TK glances at the clock for the fourth time in as many minutes. He is barely paying attention to the dish he is drying, placing it down without looking. Somewhere between the splash and Marjan’s surprised yelp, he looks up. 

 Marjan is giving him an unimpressed look as she pulls the previously dry dish out of the suds-filled sink. “Where is your head at dude?” she asks as she passes it back to him for another round with the dishtowel. He accepts it sheepishly. 

 “Sorry,” he says lowly, “I was just thinking about my dad’s appointment.” 

 Understanding dawns on Marjan’s face, “He has chemo today.” 

 TK nods, “and it’s the first one I haven’t been able to go to.” He dries the dish and places it carefully on the counter before setting down the towel and leaning forward on the counter, bracing himself on the edge. 

 “I just hate thinking of him there alone.” 

 Marjan reached forward to shut off the faucet and set down the sponge before turning to face him. “He knows you would be there if you could,” she says soothingly, “and he’ll call if there is a problem. Your dad is made of pretty tough stuff, he’ll be fine.” 

 TK ran an agitated hand through his hair, “I know he can do it on his own, but he shouldn’t have too. He spent all those weeks doing it by himself before he told me about the cancer, and I don’t want him to have to go back to that.” 

 Marjan nods sympathetically. “I hear you, but not being able to make one appointment does not mean he is in this alone, TK. He has you, and he has us. Besides,” she notes as she turns back to the sink, “I think the fact that you’re obsessing over it is a pretty good indicator that you want to be there for him. He’s not alone.” 

 TK sighed again before straightening up, “I know you're right but it still sucks.” 

 She offered him a sympathetic smile as she passed him the next dish to dry and they continued their work in companionable silence. The last few hours of their shift seemed to drag by and the moment the relief shift arrived TK was out the door like a shot. 

 He pulled up to their home in impressive time and was about to call out for his dad when he noticed a figure on the couch. 

 “Carlos?” he asked as he set down his keys, “what are you doing here? I thought we weren’t meeting until later?” 

 Carlos looked up from the magazine he had been reading on the couch, a bright smile spreading across his face at the sound of TK’s voice. “We were,” he confirmed, “but I wasn’t here to see you. Not that I don’t want to see you,” he added hastily, “hi - how was work?” 

 TK rolled his eyes but his smile betrayed his amusement as he crossed to the couch, leaning over the back to give his boyfriend a kiss: “Nice save. Work was fine, have you seen my dad?”

 Carlos nodded, “he’s asleep, the chemo session took a lot out of him today.”

 TK nodded solemnly. He was about to announce his intention to go check on his father when he suddenly realized that the pieces didn’t quite click. 

 “Wait,” he said slowly, “why would you come to see my dad today? You knew he had an appointment…” he trailed off and Carlos smiled sheepishly. 

 “I knew how worried you were about him going alone and I had the afternoon off, so I went. He was surprised, but I think he appreciated the company.”

 TK was giving him a strange look so he stopped and frowned, “Was that not okay? He didn’t seem to mind…” 

 “No,” TK said quickly, “no, it’s fine. It’s more than fine actually, I just...you spent your afternoon off sitting with my dad at his chemo appointment?” 

 Carlos shrugged, “I like your dad. Besides, it was important to you so it’s important to me.” 

 There was silence then as Carlos looked at TK curiously, not sure what to expect. TK for his part was staring at Carlos as if seeing him in a new light. Carlos was just about to ask what was wrong when TK leaned down again, placing a deep, lingering kiss on his lips. When he pulled back, his eyes glimmered with unshed tears. 

 “Thank you, Carlos,” he said, voice low and sincere. Carlos smiled at him - that wonderful thousand-volt smile that stole TK’s breath each and every time, but TK was still stuck on this moment, on what Carlos had done; on how much it meant. Yet again he finds himself without the right words. Thank you just didn’t seem like enough; it wasn’t enough to convey the depth of what he was feeling for the other man. But once again, they were the only words he had. 

 Besides, he meant those words from the bottom of his heart. 

 4

 It’s late and the sticky Texas day has slid into a cool, comfortable night. They’re walking along a street talking about nothing in particular as the conversations of other pedestrians and the music spilling out of bars washes around them, filling the night air with a sense of life.

 They get to a corner and TK pauses, looking up at the night sky above them. A smile graces his face as he looks up at the cosmos. “You never quite got to see the stars like this in New York,” he said easily, “I don’t think I’ll ever get over how many of them there are.” 

 Carlos joins him in staring up at the sky, “It is quite a sight, isn’t it?” TK hums his agreement and leans closer to him, resting his head on Carlos’s shoulder as he gazes up at the sky. “I do still miss New York sometimes,” he admits, “but then something reminds me how lucky I am to get to experience somewhere new.” 

 “Is the night sky one of those things?” 

 “It is. It’s not the main one though.” 

 “And what would that be?” 

 “A certain officer of the law.” 

 “Mya? I’ll have to tell her, she’ll be thrilled.” 

 TK let out a bark of laughter and reached around to lightly swat at Carlos with the hand that was not intertwined with his own. “Yes, it’s Mya. I just can’t get her out of my head.” 

 “I knew it.” 

 “I’m trying to be serious here Carlos, do you have to ruin the moment?” 

 Carlos chuckled and leaned down to kiss the top of TK’s head. “If it means anything,” he admitted softly, “I’ve come to like Austin a lot more too since you showed up.” 

 “It does,” TK said softly. 

 They stand there in silence, staring up at the night sky for several minutes and Carlos is struck by how lucky he is. He is struck by how much he loves this man, but it’s too soon to say it. He settles on saying nothing at all - if he speaks at all he is going to say it and break this spell that they are under. 

 Those words are right on the surface though, and he knows it will only be a matter of time. 

 5

 TK’s phone rings. He picks it up to see Mya’s name on the screen. He excuses himself and steps to a secluded, quieter corner of the bar before answering. 

 “Hey Mya,” he says cheerfully as the call connects, “what’s up?” 

 “TK? Something’s happened.” 

 The fear in Mya’s voice sucks all the air from TK’s lungs. He can feel his knees go weak so he leans against the wall. 

 “What happened? Is Carlos…” he trails off, because he’s not sure what to ask. He’s not sure what to hope for; he’s not sure what to dread. 

 “There was an accident. He had just gone to get us coffee on our break and was walking back to the car when someone hit him. He was taken to the hospital...but I don’t know anymore than that. We’re just waiting for news now.”

 Her voice was low and sounded so unlike her. If the image of Carlos being struck by a car as he walked playing on repeat in his brain without his consent hadn’t driven the gravity of the situation home, her voice would have. 

 He took a deep breath. He forced himself to stand upright, to pull himself off the wall. “I’m on my way,” he told her. “I’ll be there soon. I…” but he didn’t know what else to say. What words were there to express the fear he was feeling right now? 

 “I’ll be there soon,” he repeated, and hung up the phone. He turned, mind whirring with plans and implications only to be met with Paul standing beside him, expression furrowed. 

 “What’s wrong?” his friend asked before TK could even so much as breathe. 

 TK didn’t even bother to wonder how he knew there was something wrong, he didn’t even stop to consider why Paul may have followed him into the corner. “Carlos was in an accident, I need to get to the hospital.” 

 He started to head toward the door, but paused. He had come with his dad, he didn’t have a car here. He needed to tell him, he needed to make sure his dad had a ride home, he needed to…

 Paul put a firm hand on his shoulder, pulling his attention back to the now. “Take a breath,” he said gently, “I can practically hear your mind freaking out. I’ll take you.” 

 TK gestured vaguely towards the bar where the rest of the crew and his dad were, “What about…?” 

 “I’ll call them on the way. It’s going to be fine,” Paul assured him as he steered him towards the door. 

 “What if it’s not?” he didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to think it; but it was there and it was real. It was a possibility. 

 “Then we’ll handle that too,” Paul promised him, “but let’s not start borrowing trouble now. Give your man a chance to surprise you first - he’s tougher than you might think.” 

 TK shook his head as the car started and they pulled away from the bar, “Tough doesn’t mean invincible.” 

 Paul gave him a sympathetic look but TK stared resolutely out the window. He appreciated his friend for coming with him, for driving him, but he couldn’t handle platitudes right now. 

 They continue the ride in silence, TK desperately trying to remember the last thing he said to Carlos. He couldn’t remember. It was something so inconsequential that he couldn’t remember it. Carlos had to survive this because whatever it was couldn’t be the last thing he said. 

 They couldn’t end like this. 

 Eventually they arrived and TK rushed to the ER waiting room, roving eyes seeking out Mya in the crowd. He found her speaking with a doctor in the corner and his heart plummeted. Only Paul’s steady hand on his shoulder kept him upright; only his gentle shove propelled him forward. 

 He approached, walking slowly and deliberately; holding his breath the entire time. He reached Mya and laid a gentle questioning hand on her arm. She turned to face him; brown eyes wet with tears but a beaming smile on his face. 

 “He’s going to be okay,” she announced and TK suddenly felt 30 pounds lighter. He gave a slightly manic laugh and pulled Mya into a bone crushing hug that she happily returned. Paul appeared at his side and TK repeated the news, savoring the way the words felt on his tongue: “He’s going to be okay.” 

 There is a hug from Paul too and phone calls to make and more waiting before a nurse appears, informing them that Carlos is in recovery now and they can come back one at a time. TK glances between the other two who share an indignant look before pushing him out of his seat and towards the nurse. He turns to thank them with a wave and a smile, and then he is gone - halfway down the hall that will lead him to Carlos. 

 He is still grinning when they reach the room, and he offers the nurse a smile of thanks as she leaves. His good humor is gone though the moment he steps in the door. Carlos is still and silent in the bed; most of him covered in either bruises or bandages. The images playing in his head earlier return and TK crosses the room on shaking legs. 

 He reaches the side of the bed and takes it all in; the stitches and bruising, the bandages and the cast. He takes a deep, shuddering breath and forces himself to relax. Carlos is alive and that is all that matters. They’ll handle anything else that comes after that. 

 He stands there in the quiet, drinking in the sight of Carlos’s chest rising and falling as he takes in air until slowly, his eyes blink open. 

 He squints in the dim light of the room and TK leans in closer. 

 “Carlos?” he asks gently, “are you with me?” 

 “Ty?” Carlos asks, voice raspy, “that you?” 

 “Yeah sweetheart, it’s me. How are you feeling?” 

 Carlos considers this for a moment, “Like I got hit by a bus.” 

 And despite everything, TK has to stifle a laugh, “Close,” he admits, “but not quite. Is there anything I can do? Anything you need? Should I get a nurse?” 

 “No,” Carlos says, voice stronger this time, “no, I’ll be fine. Just, sit here with me?” 

 TK lifts up the hand he’s been holding and brushes his lips against the knuckles, “there’s nowhere I’d rather be.”  

 There will time later, he thinks as Carlos drifts back to a peaceful sleep. There will be time to talk this through more, to tell Carlos how scared he was; to tell him that he couldn’t lose him. 

 There some other things that needed to be said too - things he had been putting off for far too long (though he had known for quite some time).  

 But for now he would let Carlos sleep; he would drink in the sight of him breathing. For now he could put it off, just a little longer. 

 They would still be true, no matter how long he waited. 

 +1

 It’s just a Thursday. 

 They had just arrived home from a double date with Grace and Judd and had fallen onto the couch, pleasantly full and tired. Carlos snuggled closer to him and TK smiled softly, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders and pulling him even closer. 

 They sat intertwined in the silence for some time before TK spoke, “Hey, Carlos?” 

 “Yeah?” he asked. 

 “I love you.” 

 There was no commotion in the wake of his words; no grand gestures or great exclamations. Carlos simply smiled and leaned over to place a light kiss on TK’s cheek.

 “That’s good,” he said, “because I love you too.”

[Ao3]

[aracaeli]

The Sign of Three

NOTE: Merry Christmas @elfchensdcartblog from your DCMK secret santa!! I’m sorry for posting it at the last minute possible, I should probably have said Happy New Year instead. Here is my humble gift to you. Also, I’m sorry for not writing it with the accent. Regular english still gives me trouble and I’m not sure I’m capable of writing it right. Big thanks to @dcmksecretsanta for hosting he event.

I’m really rusty, but actually making this gift is more fun than I imagined. I forgot how soothing writing can be. Please forgive any mistake I made, happy reading! ^^

----The Sign of Three----

“You know, this is a very bad idea.” Heiji said to Kazuha for the sixth time that day. He’s practically sulking by now. On default, Heiji is not a big fan of malls. Much less going to a mall two days before Christmas. Suffice to say, the place was packed. People are everywhere. There’s people who are getting their christmas shopping late, young couples celebrating christmas together, or just some rando who had the bright idea to come to the mall near christmas. The mall even blasted out “We Wish You a Merry Christmas'' in every speaker on loop. Heiji swears if he finds the person responsible for that song that guy will have to answer to him.

Kazuha however is chipper as ever. She ignored his comment and instead was busy looking at toy displays in front of her while whistling along on the christmas song. Heiji wouldn’t even be here if Kazuha had not dragged him out. Heck, he wouldn’t even leave the house if it weren’t for her. His plan is to stay at home and do some reading, maybe go out for a bit to get food, but that’s it.

Kazuha apparently had other plans for him. She insisted on making him come with her to her class christmas event today and accompany her to do last minute shopping for the kids. Apparently the school wanted the students to celebrate Christmas by making a christmas event where the kids can play and exchange gifts. Only, the actual event is two days early from christmas because the kids will be celebrating with their own family on the actual christmas.

The idea is stupid. Heiji said as much.

He gets smacked in the head for that. Heiji had tried to lie his way out, but Kazuha immediately saw through him.

And that’s another weird thing about Kazuha lately. They had been married a while, but Heiji was sure that her changes only occurred recently.

Lately, she seems to become more observant. She often notices small things that she didn't notice before. Normally if someone moved her pen when she was away, she wouldn’t notice, but now she was able to tell the exact distance of the pen’s displacement. 

Another weirdness is, she woke up by the slightest noise. Before when Heiji had to stay late because of work, he was able to get to their bed without waking her. Now Kazuha is awake when he cracks the door open. If Heiji made a noise, she was able to tell exactly what was causing the noise, even if she was two rooms away. Heiji didn’t know what was the cause, it’s not like it’s the first time he saw that kind of ability. He had good ears, so does his father. What’s weird is that Kazuha suddenly developed one, too.

Maybe it was contagious?

Heiji shakes his head, chasing the ridiculous thoughts away. Despite Kazuha being weirdly observant, Heiji managed to secure an awesome gift for her, in his humble opinion. The subject of his musings is still shopping happily, uncharacteristically unaware of his thoughts. 

Kazuha is still looking at the display. But now she has already moved to the far end of the store. She picks up the toys one by one and assesses them carefully, as if it was important evidence on a crime scene. After a while, she held up a toy truck in front of him.

“Do you think Mikoto-kun would like this one?” Kazuha asked, holding a red toy car that resembles a fire truck. 

Mikoto is one of Kazuha's students in elementary school, who Heiji really doesn’t like. Mikoto, like most the boys in her class, had a crush on Kazuha-sensei and wanted to marry her when they grow up. Nevermind that Heiji visited the class and told them that Kazuha was already married to him.

In response to that information, Mikoto--who had the smuggest face for someone barely older than a toddler-- just looked at him from top to bottom, face clearly displaying unimpressed. “Oh well, we’ll see about that.”

The audacity.

Not caring what the brat would get for Christmas, Heiji answered shortly, “He’s a kid, that’s a toy. The math suggests that he would be thrilled.” 

He thought she would get annoyed with him, but his wife just shrugged and went back to shopping. In the end, she made a decision and took the toy to the counter to pay for it and told him to wait for her. Heiji watched her with a suspicious gaze, wondering if what meets the eye is really the truth. 

Heiji thinks it’s weird that Kazuha invited him to the event. While it’s not the first time he has come to her class and participated, it was always such a disaster. Considering what happened when he was present, he should be banned.

In his defense, it was the brat’s fault. Everytime Heiji comes to pick Kazuha up, he will ‘accidentally’ step on his foot. Kazuha makes Mikoto apologize to him of course, but the boy apologizes with a sleazy grin not fit for a child. One time, when he visited Kazuha during class, the brat ‘accidentally’ poured paint all over his shirt. Heiji tried to get back at the kid, but as if sensing his petty intention, Mikoto immediately cried.

Worse, Kazuha never sided with him. She came and comforted the kid while Heiji had to watch the kid buried his face in Kazuha’s chest while giving him the smuggest smile known to humankind. He had to bite back a curse. 

Another incident that popped in his mind is when Heiji cursed in her class, in front of the children. It was actually quite comical, the children had simultaneously stopped what they were doing and looked at him in shellshock, Heiji stood awkwardly for a minute. He was about to make a run for it. When one of the kids decided that what he had done was unacceptable on so many levels and tattled on him to Kazuha.

Kazuha had put him on time-out as if he was five despite his protest to her.

“I can’t play favour, Heiji. It’s not a good example for the kids” Kazuha said sternly while putting her hands at her hips. Long story short, he lost the debate.

He had to sit in the hallway to think about what he did while the other children peeked at him curiously from the window.

One kid even booed at him.

Yeah, it was not his proudest moment.

While he was reminiscing, Kazuha came back from the cashier, carrying one more bag in her hand. She didn’t have any trouble carrying it, but he decided to perform his duty as a good husband and took the bag from her hand. Beside, this way her hand would be free for him to hold.

Chiding himself for being sappy, Heiji linked their fingers together in a loose grip, suppressing the blush that always comes despite already being married to her. But Kazuha was having none of it today as she tightened her hand.

Kazuha leaned closer on him. Their arms linked together and her nose almost brushed his shoulder. 

“Let’s go upstairs.” Kazuha said, leading the way. As they walked side by side, she broke the silence.

“Did you finish your christmas shopping?” Kazuha asked. The mall was crowded and loud, so Heiji really had to pay attention to hear her. 

“I did. Finished it weeks ago.”

“Including my gift?”

“Yes.”

“Is it a living thing?”

“No.”

“Is it a nonliving thing?”

“We’re not playing 20 questions!”

Kazuha pouted. She bit the inside of her cheeks and turned her face away from him. Giving Heiji her side-view. And suddenly he finds himself resisting the irrational urge to kiss that protruding lips in public. Fortunately, unlike with the case of  Fairy’s lips, he still had common sense left.

“I think I know what you get me.” Kazuha said suddenly. 

Heiji gave his wife a skeptical stare, surely she was just bluffing, afterall he went through a painstaking measure to make it a surprise. He even draws a murderboard, which he hides in Kudo’s house, much to the latter dismay.

“No you don’t.” Heiji sneered.

“Hmm let’s see now,” Kazuha put her hand to her chin, mimicking his favorite pose when solving a case, complete with a smile, which may appear innocent at first but completely devious. 

“I know that you suck at handcraft. And I don’t see you working at anything, so it can’t be handmade. You said it was a non-living thing, so it can’t be a pet. Judging by how quick you are in answering my question earlier and the fact we have a joint account, it’s unlikely to be a trip or a dinner.”

Heiji started to sweat. Is this what the suspect always felt whenever he made a show of his deductions? Still, Kazuha is not done yet.

“The fact that you finished weeks ago means you had planned it for awhile. You’ve gone to Tokyo for a suspicious amount of time, it can be unrelated to gift-buying, but my instinct said it was very related. But it’s weird that you go so far just to shop, there’s plenty of places here where you can hide your gift. That suggests the involvement of an outside party. Probably a delivery. Which means…”

Kazuha added a dramatic pause.

“....it was custom-made.”

Damn. What’s gotten into her?

Still, Kazuha went for the kill, “The fact that you’re giving it to me, big chance it was a jewelry. Probably a necklace. Since you had no sense when it comes to women’s fashion, the one you custom it’s not probably the design. If my deduction is correct, that necklace would have my initial.”

Heiji completely avoided looking at her. Somehow his pride is trampled over her deductions. He had plans after all. The only solace he had was Kazuha doing all of that is kinda hot. So he let it pass.

“Am I right?”

Heiji shrugged. “I don’t know, you had to wait.”

Kazuha gives a little happy jump, almost knocking a lady that was passing by them.

“I can’t wait for a necklace with a ‘K’ pendant to come.”

Heiji nodded along with her statement. The pendant that he ordered is actually spelled ‘K.H’, since Kazuha had officially become a Hattori now. He decided to let her little mistake in detail be left uncorrected and changed the subject.

“Can we go now? I think this place is getting more packed.” Heiji said, and true to his word, someone bumped into him. Said person didn’t even apologize and just walked. 

“Hold on, I still need to buy one more for Chika-chan.”

“Huh? I thought it was a secret santa.”

“It is, but I’m buying a present for all of my students in the class.”

Heiji frowned. “Why? Isn’t that a bit much even for you? You’ll see them again next year.”

He felt her getting tense. She was looking straight ahead but he can tell that she was carefully masking her face as casual indifference.

Shrugging her shoulder, Kazuha answered, “I just want to make this year memorable.”

Heiji observed her face carefully for any clue, but sensing his curiosity, Kazuha looked back at him and feigned a smile. Deciding to not pursue it further, he noted this exchange and kept it in Kazuha’s folder, a place in his mind palace where he keeps anything related to Kazuha that he finds odd or weird. That folder had recently become thicker and thicker.

“Let’s go up one more floor, I think I see a store selling hair accessories.” Kazuha said quickly as she pulled him along by his hand to the elevator direction. Heiji followed along.

She accidentally stumbled on her steps. Delaying them for a few seconds. In consequence of that, they missed the elevator. As the door closed with a resounding ding sound. It was like a butterfly effect, the world just decide what he needs today is a murder.

If only they got on that elevator, they would have missed the shrill scream of a person discovering a dead body.

But unfortunately they did.

Knowing that scream everywhere, Heiji felt his detective sense alert in an instant. But before running off to the source of the commotion, he looked at Kazuha first, wordlessly asking for her permission.

Kazuha sighed, smiling softly, “Go”.

Heiji gave her a cheeky grin. He  handed her the shopping bags to her. Since both his hands are free, he had the chance to strike a cool pose before running off by gripping the edge of his hat and pulling the cap to the front.

“I’ll be back.”

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

In the span of time for one call to the police, five interrogations, and one person broke down crying later, Heiji managed to gather the suspects in the back of the store. The body is found in a clothing changing room. A man in his late thirties, wearing casual jeans and polo shirt. The corpse had been found laying on his back, half his body leaned on the mirror. Eyes wide and mouth wide open. Although there is no blood. 

The store owner had been very helpful in aiding his investigations. She closed the crime perimeter and helped gather witnesses. Even though she initially insisted that the man just had a heart attack, until Heiji pointed out the signs that he clearly is poisoned.

Heiji was busy doing his usual detective work that he didn’t really notice that Kazuha hadn't shown up even after thirty minutes had passed since they heard the scream.

Heiji was about to search for her, already worried that something happened to his wife. But as he was about to walk away from the crime scene, Kazuha catches up with him, completely unaware of his worry. She even brought a drink in hand  and casually sip the cold liquid from the straw while looking around the crime scene curiously. 

“Solved it yet?” She asked. Slurping the boba tea. 

Heiji was momentarily distracted by the movement of her lips. Shaking the unwanted thoughts away, he looked back at the corpse.

“Not yet. So far, here’s the situation. Someone is found dead in the changing room of this store.” Heiji gestured towards the corpse.

“No blood.” Kazuha remarked.

Heiji nodded. He feels weirdly proud that she participated in the case. He resisted the urge to pat her head, “Exactly. Death by poison.”

“Cyanide?”

“No, arsenic.”

“Who do you think did it?”

“Well, I figured out the trick, But I’m still not sure who did it.”

Kazuha nodded solemnly. Still slurping her drink. Her gaze turned towards the three people standing behind the store owner who were looking at them the whole time. The three men are the main suspects for the case. Heiji told them to stand far enough so they can’t overhear his conversation. Heiji was sure the culprit was between the man with glasses and the tall one. Although he had no evidence or any defining clue.

“The guy with the glasses seems suspicious.” Kazuha said. Leaning close to whisper in his ears. He instinctively take a step back. Typical of Kazuha to annoy him with her stupid breath and her slurping when he was in the middle of a case. 

Heiji snatched the drink from her hand. 

“How is he suspicious?” He asked, only half-interested in her answer.

“Look at the inside of his wrist.” Kazuha said confidently at first, but she suddenly turned hesitant and quickly shrugged “But, I don’t know though, you’re the Detective.”

Reluctantly, Heiji followed Kazuha's advice and focused on the man in glasses hands. 

Wait….that mark…

“I know who the killer is.”

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

An hour and half later, they finally manage to get out of the mall. Heiji was sure that they were already late to the event. Thankfully, there was no traffic on the way, so they made it to the school ground less than ten minute later. The event hasn't started yet. Most of the kids were still playing around, although Kazuha’s coworkers had pulled out various games and an assortment of christmas themed sweets out.

When Heiji and Kazuha enter the classroom. The children cheered. Immediately, she was surrounded by her students. They formed a circle around her and tried to get her attention. Looking at the spectacle before him, Heiji can’t help but note that Kazuha is really good with kids. 

Heiji put their bag on the gifts table. He searched for an empty chair to sit on. Heiji found one in the back of the room. He sits down on one of the chairs beside the low round table. Heiji was so focused that he didn’t notice someone approaching him.

“So you came.”

Heiji turned to the source of the voice. But he didn’t see anyone.

“Down here”

He looked down and his stare met with Mikoto’s gaze.

“Hey”

Mikoto only grunted. The kid pulled the chair across him and sat down. He slouched on the chair while looking around the room with bored eyes. Heiji noticed that his eyes landed on a little girl with a pigtail who was excitedly chatting with Kazuha. He looked back at the kid and the girl.

Heiji was a very observant Detective. The best in Japan. Despite what neechan said. That’s why the blush on Mikoto’s face didn’t go unnoticed by Heiji. He gave a small sigh. Kids these days, so easy to move on from one crush to another.

“Do you like that girl?” Heiji asked. One eyebrow raised suggestively. He deliberately didn’t gesture on the little girl across the room.

Mikoto looked scandalized, suddenly sitting straight with face flushed red. “What! No! Who likes Chika!?”

Heiji grinned. “I didn’t say anything about Chika-chan.”

Mikoto was about to defend himself. But no words come out. All of his face was flaming red to the tip of his ear. The blush even went up to his ears. In the end, he settled to look away instead. Sulking.

“So…” Heiji began, finding the opportunity to tease the kid highly amusing. “Do you think Chika-chan cute? What’s her deal?’

Mikoto crossed his hand in front of his chest, “She’s not cute! She’s stupid!” he stated, too loud and too defensive to be true. Some of the kids and one teacher had looked their way due to commotion. 

“Hey, stupid is a bad word.” Heiji chided. 

Mikoto was about to protest. But somehow decided against it and mumbled a low “Sorry.”

Seeing the kid actually reminded him a lot of someone. Although Heiji can’t quite recall who. “Here’s an advice, if you like her, don’t pull her pigtails.”

Mikoto, once again, flushed red. As if he was just caugh red-handed. “I don’t need your advice, I bet you also pulled Kazuha-sensei’s ponytail.”

Heiji laughed. It’s actually happened. The scene of their younger years flashed before his eyes. Kazuha used to have pigtails too when she was young and the sight of her hair swinging around as she walked always seems cute and endearing to him. Although back then he had no idea what the feeling blossomed in his chest was. 

Young Heiji never made the connection between the flutter of his heart and Kazuha’s presence. Once Heiji even thought he had heart problems. His mother laughed when he brought his concerns to her. Shizuka had said that he was healthy as a clamp and had nothing to worry about. To his embarrassment, it took him ten more years to finally understand he was in love with Kazuha.

“What are you boys talking about?”

Both of them turned around simultaneously, only to find Kazuha standing behind.

“Nothing,” Mikoto said. Kazuha looked at the two of them suspiciously. “Mikoto-kun, you should join the others. The game is about to start.”

Mikoto sends Heiji a distress signal to help him get away. But Heiji feels no remorse as he shrugged his shoulders in total betrayal.

“Mikoto-kun.” Kazuha said again, voice more stern. In the end, Mikoto sighed and walked away from the couple. Joining the merry and fun of his friends in the center of the room.

Kazuha sat on the empty chair that Mikoto left, staring at the crowd in a somewhat somber gaze, “He reminds me a lot of you.”

Heiji immediately defended himself, “What! I am nothing like that brat.”

“You two seemed to get along, though” Kazuha said.

“No, we’re not. He hates my gut. Apparently he used to have a crush on you.” Heiji added, “And just so you know, those little accidents that he did, are not an ‘accident’.”

Kazuha laughed. “I know. I just wanna show how ridiculous you are, getting jealous of kids.” Heiji opened his mouth, but she cut him off, “Don’t even try to deny it.”

Heiji blew a harsh breath. Looking around at the happy kids around him, the christmas decoration is exquisite, and the cookies smelled delicious, even from when he was sitting.

“Why do you insist I come anyway?” Heiji asked. Although he probably knows the answer. With how observant Kazuha is lately, maybe she noticed that he’s not having such a great time at work. 

But his wife is always able to surprise him. “I’m pregnant.”

Heiji gaped at her as the world turned into a standstill. Voices become mute and he swears the earth stop spinning.

Kazuha...is pregnant…

Kazuha is pregnant.

He heard the words clearly. But the meaning didn’t actually register in his head. Kazuha is pregnant? With his child….

There’s another human being that he will be responsible to. Someone who looks like him. Or maybe Kazuha. Maybe a well-behaved kid like Chika-chan or a brat like Mikoto.

What would he do if his kid makes bad choices? Or become too reckless like him?

He could feel his panic rapidly growing by the second. The thought of bringing a human life in this world is downright overwhelming. Kazuha might be good with kids, but he is not. What would he do with one? That’s easy, he should feed it. Oh God, what did you feed a kid? What does a kid even eat??

As if sensing his rapidly growing panic, Kazuha called his name. “Heiji,”

When there was no response, Kazuha grabbed his hand that was laying on the table. The contact startled him. His eyes turned to her.

“We’re gonna be fine, Heiji.” Kazuha added, “Beside, I’ve been thinking about it, and I think I want to focus on raising our family.” 

Suddenly, it made sense. Why she wants to make this year christmas with her class so memorable. The way she is acting so weird recently. There’s only one thing he can’t figure out, thought….

“I don’t get why you suddenly become so observant, is that another side effect of pregnancy?”

Kazuha stared at him in bewilderment, “What are you talking about?”

“You! You were suddenly very observant. Like a detect--” Heiji stopped mid-sentence, he abruptly stood up from the chair, knocking it backwards. As if he just received the meaning of the universe, he exclaimed:

“Oh God, our child is gonna be a detective!!”

.

.

.

A/N: And thus, Heisuke is doomed since he was a literal fetus to be a detective by his father. 

There’s a local belief in my area that when a mother is pregnant, how she behaves is influenced by the child’s personality. So if a woman often gets angry during pregnancy, that means the child is temperamental, so on. Halfway writing this, I realized that it might be too weird and specific, so I ended up rewriting it into a more general trope. Although dumbass me misread the fact that Kazuha is elementary teacher-to-be, not elementary teacher. Still, I hope you accept this as a humble sort-of-headcanon to your Heisuke AU.

I actually really like the concept of the AU, I had to refrain myself from liking and reblogging all the posts because then you would have easily figured out that I’m your Secret Santa (lol). Can’t wait to see your next works. Good luck and Merry Christmas! ^^

[lonelyandlovelorn]

Meddling

A/N: I’m back with some Wanda because I really love her. 

Genre: fluff, stupidity

Warning: maybe a little swearing?

Word count: 1700

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem reader

Summary: You’re pining and Nat and Clint decide to meddle. 

Masterlist

You zone out again. You’re looking at her again. You snap out of it before anyone notices, you hope. 

This keeps happening. You get bored in a meeting or you lose focus while reading, and every time you come back to reality, your eyes are on her. You don’t think anyone has noticed yet, because no one would miss the opportunity to tease you. But maybe no one thinks anything of it; heteronormativity is a hell of a drug, after all.

You’re pretty sure you’ve managed this whole time without anyone noticing the way your eyes linger on her, and then Clint pulls you aside one night after dinner.

“So, Wanda, huh?” You want to be shocked that he begins the conversation completely tactlessly, but you’re too busy drawing on any and all of your training to avoid the conversation.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you respond, face blank. Unfortunately for you, his training was longer and better than yours.

“C’mon, kiddo. Everyone else might be blind, including her, but you stare at her constantly.” Knowing you don’t have a shot in hell at deceiving him, your shoulders deflate and warmth rises in your face. “If it’s any consolation, I think you’ve got a shot.”

You raise a skeptical eyebrow at him. “What makes you say that?”

“Just a hunch,” he says, smirking and walking away. You’re confused and baffled that he doesn’t press you further or even make an attempt to mock you. It almost makes it worse somehow.

--

Clint doesn’t bring it up again anytime soon, and the rest of the team still seem none the wiser. Of course a spy can keep a secret, but you also know the man to be less mature than an eleven year-old. The fact that he noticed though has you nervous, catching yourself before you can stare too long or sometimes even leaving the room she’s in when you feel spacey. 

The issue is mostly that you’re the two youngest, besides Peter, so you tend to stick together. You have movie nights in your room, you go out for breakfast together sometimes, and you talk to each other all the time. And of course, none of this is the actual issue. The actual issue is that because of this, she notices when things change. She shows up at your door for movie night, dressed in pajamas and looking ready to relax, but she looks troubled. When you ask about it, you kind of wish you hadn’t.

“It’s nothing really it’s just… I feel like you’ve been avoiding me.” The surprise must register on your face because she continues before you can respond. “I don’t know what I did, but you leave the room sometimes when I walk in, and I feel like we don’t hang out as much.” 

You feel terrible that she thinks it’s her fault somehow, but how do you tell her that it isn’t. ‘Oh yeah, don’t worry about it, I’m just worried you and everyone else will figure out that I’m practically in love with you.’ Not likely. Finally, you settle on, “You haven’t done anything, I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I’ve just been a little distracted lately.” Not a complete lie, just not really the truth.

“Are you sure? We’re okay?” She sounds so hopeful, so worried about your friendship, that it makes you feel guilty for even letting the thought pass through your mind of ruining that by searching for more. All you can do is shoot her a smile and tug her onto the bed beside you, nodding and turning to select a movie. 

-- 

You’re wandering through the halls of the compound, half the team off on mission. Unfortunately for you, Natasha is not one of those people. Unfortunate only because she nearly scares you to death as she walks up from behind and begins speaking before you even notice her presence. 

“I didn’t know you were into women.” You jump half a foot in the air and let out a shrill shriek as you spin quickly to face her. 

“What?” you ask before you even have time to process what she said to you. She just watches you as her statement sinks in. You know denial is futile, but you don’t feel like straight up agreeing with her, as you knew that she often said things just to observe a reaction. In a moment of admitted stupidity, you don’t respond to her statement at all and simply attempt to walk away.

Of course that doesn’t stop her and she grabs your arm gently to stop you from escaping. “I’m not asking you to profess your love for her, I was simply observing something interesting. Besides, did you really think Clint was the only one who figured it out?” She looks unimpressed, but you hardly notice at your attempts to hide your panic. Did everyone see it? Were they all just ignoring it to not hurt your feelings? Did it make some of them uncomfortable?

Obviously she sees what you so horribly failed to hide and you see her expression soften. She has this habit of mothering you, even if you aren’t much younger than her, but it felt nice sometimes. This is not really one of those times. “Sweetie, you’re not so obvious that the rest of the idiots in this building will notice, if that’s what you’re worried about. And if you’re worried about them not being supportive, you ought to know better than that.” You can’t help but nod at that. These people are your family, of course they would be accepting. “And if you’re worried that she’s noticed, she hasn’t. I really think you should tell her though.” Your eyes widen comically.

“Why on earth would I do that?” 

“Because you like her and you won’t know if she likes you unless you do something about it.” Her response is matter-of-fact, but that does nothing to convince you. 

“Doing something about it could ruin one of the best things in my life. I’d rather stay friends forever and stare at her from a distance than risk friendship for some feelings.” Nat doesn’t seem satisfied with your response but doesn’t push any further. 

--

Two weeks went by filled with longing gazes from you and unimpressed looks from Clint and Nat. You were resolute in your decision to do nothing about it. Besides, if it is in any way mutual, she can make a move just as well as you. 

You’ve finally stopped worrying about Clint and Nat when Nat asks you to meet her in a conference room. You have no idea what for, but figure it best not to argue with her. When you walk into the room, the only one inside is Wanda. The door closes behind you, and you hear the tell-tale click of a lock. You look to her again, only to see your own confusion mirrored in her face. After a moment of thinking you realize what Nat and Clint are doing and panic sets in. You’re almost positive that they’ve locked you in here together to force you to do something about your pining. You pull out your phone to see a message from Clint that confirms it, only to see Wanda check her phone as well. 

You let out a breath and sit down across from her at the table. She finally breaks the silence, which is uncommonly awkward. “Do you know what’s going on?”

“Sorry it’s my fault. Well, it’s not my fault, it’s theirs. But it’s because of me, I guess.” Your response does little to clear things up, as even you confuse yourself. You huff out a sigh to settle yourself before speaking again. Might as well rip it off like a bandage so at least you can both escape this room sooner rather than later. 

“I like you,” you say quickly, your eyes tightly closed and your entire body tensed. 

“You- What?” She sounds just as confused as you would be in this situation. 

“I like you, and they figured it out and locked us in here so I would tell you. And now I’ve told you so they should let us out.” You still don’t look at her as you speak. You continue to stare at the table until the silence stretches on for too long, and you have to look at her. She looks confused still, but it’s different than what you expected. 

Suddenly, a small smile appears on her face and lights up the small room, even as it has you staring in befuddlement. 

“You like me?” All you can do is give a meek nod as she lets out what sounds like a disbelieving laugh.

“I thought they locked us in here because of me...” she then softly tacks on, “for the same reason.”

Understanding dawns on your face as you join her in laughing. “So what you’re saying is that they both knew and were tired of us doing nothing.” You’re still red from embarrassment, but you can feel the lightness of knowing your feelings aren’t one-sided. It fills you like a drug and you keep looking over her smile and similar blush to reaffirm it. 

In a moment of confidence, you reach across the table for her hand. You’ve held hands with her before, but this is different and you can both feel it. You rub your thumb gently across her knuckles before speaking. “How would you feel about going out tonight instead of movie night?”

“I would love that.”

-- 

When you come back from your date that night, you walk her to her door and press a sweet goodnight kiss to her cheek before walking in the direction of your room, a stupid smile on your face. Clint intercepts you on the way, only to say, “Great job, kiddo,” with two thumbs up and a grin. You lightly swat his arm but can’t wipe the joy off your face as you walk away from him. 

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Kingdom Collisions II

I've just finished a book and it made me cry so happily I thought I'd post a fanfic to commemorate it. Also I'm probably going to start an AWAE/AoGG account soon because I cannot fathom living my life without a space dedicated to my darling loves. Anyway that isn't relevant to the post. This is just a fun little fic I've been writing on the side to try incorporate more descriptions into my writing (I'm a known dialogue whore). I see fit to write it whenever I feel like, so updates may be far and few between, however I do hope you enjoy whatever does come out. I adore this moody ansgty side to jercy. It's been fun to explore.

Masterlist, cat-eye aquamarine

Leave me alone.

[we have known loneliness forever]

Why did I ever agree to this?

[so we do not quite know what it is like]

I never asked you to say yes!

[to want]

Fuck you.

[one another]

-lonliness is a two-sided conversation//badpoetry

Percy doesn't even look at his husband. Doesn't acknowledge his perfect hair, or blazing eyes, or how close they're sitting. He just stares directly out the car window, arms folded across his chest. The rolling hills and wild lavender dance past his vision as the car bounces along the gravel road. They are almost to their destination, to solid ground and quiet, peace. Despite the circumstances he is excited to be back at the cabin his family has owned for so many years. He relishes in the fact that he can escape somewhere that is untainted by the rest of his life. Throngs of people, and public demand, and never ending scrutiny. 

He is nothing short of pissed that he has to share his safe place with someone he despises so sweetly it is honey on his tongue to talk to them. But his mother had insisted if they were to act like a married couple they would have to go on a honeymoon and he had only agreed if he could choose the place. She wanted to send them to some private beach in Spain where they could pretend to be alone, oblivious to the paparazzi that were sure to follow, and the people who wanted to meet not one but two crown princes. It was his final stance that if he were being forced to spend time with his husband, it would at least be where he could enjoy it.

"Prince," A crackling voice says through the speakers.

Percy clicks a button on the arm rest, "Yes Mr James?"

"The security team has secured the area, would you like us to drop the bags off before you head inside or after?"

"Whenever suits you Mr James, I'm going for a walk."

Jason who had since then, fallen asleep, jolts awake as they go over a particularly bumpy area.

"And your husband Prince?"

"Ask him yourself, I'm sure he has much to say on the matter." Percy huffs, turning away.

"Prince Grace,"

Jason glares at Percy unimpressed with his dismissal and his rudeness towards the driver.

"Yes James sir?"

"Would you like your bags dropped off before or after you enter the area?"

"Before please, I feel it will help me settle in much easier if everything is already there."

Percy wants to scoff, who talks like that? This pretentious, stuck-up, goodie two-shoes is who. He wants to stick his tongue out, settle their rivalry like five year olds battling to see who can scowl for longer. Mostly, desperately he just wants to get out of this damn car. His leg bounces in time with the bumps, and his hands fidget in his lap. For all his princely training nobody ever managed to get him to sit perfectly still. His mother had finally given up and started carrying drawing pads and pencils wherever she went.

"Can you stop moving!" Jason growls.

"If it bothers you so much get out and walk." He spits back.

An eye roll is the reply but by then the car finally rumbles to a stop and a security detail is opening their doors.

"Princes,"

"Thank you Madison, Arlo." He manages to grit before he stomps off down the path and disappears into the woods.

"Where are you going?" He hears his husband yell. He doesn't bother to reply, someone will tell the Prince.

He kicks at the dark soil and pulls breath after breath into his lungs. He needs to calm down. Just then his ears catch the soft bubbling of a stream and he heads in the direction of the noise. The woods are quiet and cool. A soft breeze flutters between velvety leaves and needled pines, stirring the undergrowth. He wants to become one with the trees, become a branch that sways in greeting and grows friends, and feels the wind wrapping around it every evening. He just wants to stop being human for a little while. 

And then the stream is underneath him, soaking his fancy shoes and fine thread socks. He laughs, tugs them off and sits down in the middle of the cold, flowing water. He can feel it run into him like ice in his veins. He dips a finger in, then another, his whole hand and shudders at the smooth caress. It has been so long since he just got to be. Here in this little stream, pants soaking, hands turning blue he has never felt so faraway, out of his body. The world narrows to his fingertips, to the bead of water running down his ankle and joining its family once more. His brain is far and long forgotten, simply taking up space in his skull. He decides right then and there that if he ever comes back to this world he'll come back as a rock in the stream. To live in this beautiful, ever-moving world, where the cold is a kiss and you can never meet the same drop of water twice seems a good life indeed.

Just then he hears a rustle behind him. In an instant he’s on his feet, pulling a dagger from his suit jacket, a white-knuckled grip on the hilt.

"Whoever you are come out right now. I am not in the mood."

"Relax," A deep smooth voice says, "It's just me."

"Oh," He pulls his lips up in half disappointment, half relief it wasn't danger. "What do you want?"

"Mr James wants to know if you want five or ten of the guards here for the remainder of the time here."

"I want zero." He frowned, "I just want to be left in peace for the next few days."

"Well it's not an option so choose." Practical, always so practical.

"Leave five here, there's three other cabins about half a mile out on either side of ours that should be enough space. Everyone else can go home."

"Of course, I'll leave you to it then." Jason nods, stands there awkwardly for a moment longer and then disappears into the greenery once more.

Percy doesn't know what to do, doesn't know whether he should scream or cry or laugh.

He hadn't let himself think too hard about the events of the last few weeks. He had shoved every feeling but contempt and general dislike deep deep down into his cage and threw the key into the deepest parts of his ocean of thoughts. He wasn't sure he had the strength to unpack everything that had happened. When his mother had came to him all those weeks ago a heartbroken look in her eyes he knew whatever had happened would be nothing short of a disaster. Within the week he was promised to Crown Prince Jason Grace of Caelum and had been shoved into endless, meetings in which wedding arrangements and economic agreements had to be made.

He didn't even meet the Prince till the night before they were to be wed but by then Percy had despised the whole ordeal so intensely he hadn't any happiness or hope left in him to be kind to the Prince. And even if he did gave some it would have vanished completely upon their introduction. Jason looked at him with such calculating authority he had reminded Percy of an old tutor who thought children should be seen and not heard, and learn whatever was given to them without question. Jason had been stiff, and unyielding, and looked just as unhappy or even unhappier to be meeting him. At dinner Jason only spoke when spoken too, he didn't fidget even once, and worst of all he somehow still managed to charm his mother in about five seconds. One dimpled smile, and a cute story about his first time riding a horse and Queen Sally Jackson had accepted him as one of their own. Percy on the other hand was ignored the entire dinner, and on the walk in the gardens, at the insistence of his advisor, they hardly said two words to each other. Whether it was because Jason was lost in his own world or letting his displeasure for the whole ordeal simmer and burn into their company as Percy was he would never know. Either way the walk ended with a gruff, formal goodbye before they headed to their rooms.

Percy shuts out the politics of the arrangement and how his life has turned into this unrecognizable hurricane of chaos. He cups some of water in his hands and drops it over his curls. Letting it drip down his temples and catch on his collarbones. The coolness soothes him, as water has always done. Finally when his blood is no longer boiling with hidden anger he steps out of the stream, picking up his discarded shoes and socks and sinks into the earth with each step.

The cabin has a soft orange glow in the windows, and the many cars that escorted them have disappeared. He throws his belongings by the door, shucks his pants off and steps inside. The interior is just as he remembers it. Where the castle was dripping with opulence and royalty, the cabin was simple and stripped to the bare essentials. He had always loved the place. Even when he was little and his mom would whisk him away for a secret weekend. She would pack hoards of cookies and ice-cream and light the fire immediately. They would sit on the soft, fleece rug, her with a book and him with his sketchpad, sipping cocoa and spooning ice cream straight from the tub. Then he didn't have to be the prince one day inheriting the crown and she didn't have to be the Queen dealing with every problem under the sun. They hadn't been back in a good few years and he misses everything about the space. He is silently grateful that Jason has lit the fire. Something familiar to hold onto.

"You're back." The Golden Prince says.

"Astute observation." He rolls his eyes but the blonde doesn't look up from whatever he's doing.

Percy walks into the space, shrugging his suit jacket off and unbuttoning his wrinkled white shirt. He hears a sharp inhale and glances up to see a red cheeked Jason staring at him.

"Why aren't you wearing any pants?"

"Oh," He laughs softly, "Yea they were wet so I took them off before I came in."

He sputters and blushes, glancing down and then peaking back up again.

"You alright there Prince?"

Jason clears his throat, and Percy watches that golden Adam's apple bob. His skin prickles with heat and he knows its time to go.

"I'm going to shower. I'll give you a tour afterwards if you want."

"That would be great."

With a nod in which they both avoid eye contact and general pleasantry he disappears into one of the three rooms of the cabin.

His shower is scorching, water pummeling against tired muscles. His mother always says a good shower and steaming cup of tea can fix more problems than a board of professionals. So far she hasn't been wrong.

"Hey," He walks back into the lounge sometime later, looking down as he ties the string on his pants, "You ready?"

The house is dead quiet, save for the crackle of the fire and the soft wind that whispers in the grooves of the floor.

"Jason?" He frowns, moving to stand in front of him.

The Prince is fast asleep, head lolling forward, book still clasped in his hands. Percy takes in his husband for the first time. Unobstructed by either of their waking emotions, or the general hustling that had shrouded their lives. Jason, he grudgingly admits, is beautiful. His hair looks soft and golden, and when it catches the light of the fire he's sure it's made from sunshine itself. And his skin is such a startling contrast to Percy's rich brown colour. The Prince's body, now folded into an awkward bent angle as he lay across the velvet-cushioned chair, is lithe and graceful. Corded with muscle but somehow still smooth in a way only an uptight Prince with a personal trainer may ever achieve. At least, he thinks sordidly, if I'm forced to marry someone he is as darling as Jason.

The blonde stirs softly, hand twitching, before he settles back into his position. As awkward and unhappy the two are with each other Percy can't leave him here. He's sure the Prince will bend into a chair himself if he slept like that all night long. So he gently taps his husband's shoulder, waking him almost immediately. Jason has never been a particularly heavy sleeper, and it is worse when he finds himself in a place he doesn't know. He blinks up at the world, blue eyes bright. They reminds Percy of the cat-eye aquamarine, the gemstone sat at the base of every crown ever made for his kingdom. He wonders what it says that the colour of his husband's eyes are also the colour he most associates with home. Just as quickly he expels those thoughts, content to bask in his clear dispassion and irritation for as long as this should last.

Jason scrubs a hand over his face, "Sorry you wanted to take me on a tour?"

"No, no there's time for that tomorrow. Why don't you head up to bed."

"Oh, okay. Goodnight then,"

"Goodnight Prince," He says stiffly.

"Sleep easy."

A nod in return and they both retire to their rooms, content to put the last week far behind them. Bury it under dreams, and hopes, and the promise of a tomorrow where nothing has tarnished it yet.

Percy left his window open, watched the tree outside it sway gently. Maybe tomorrow he would climb it and become acquainted with the birds in the nest.

He falls asleep, finally, to the chirp of crickets and the soft rustle of whispering leaves.

[our-wargame]

a tendency to wear my mind on my sleeve; a history of losing my shirt

summary:

kuroo grumbles. “how come you never let me win? i think it’s a little unfair.”

“same reason you’re my player two. winning is for winners and losing is for kuroo.”

notes:

it’s just one of my quick feelings-aesthetic fic enjoy :3 (that’s what it started it off as until i screwed it up aah)

no capitals because style or smth

kuroken yayyy. friends to lovers.

if you prefer to read on ao3/non-dark mode

when they’re nine, ten, eleven, kemna distinctively remembers they’re about the same size. not to mention a size, a build, that’s kinda...twiggy. they’re like sticks in the mud and things are simple but not dull. days are just days; time is just what it is.

sometimes kenma thinks he’s going to be left behind. he has wits, might be fleet-footed. but should he ever trip, he doesn’t think his limbs are long enough to catch him back up.

except with kuroo around, kenma has a running buddy. (a dog really, kuroo’s kind of. a silly-amount of loyal and goofy.) they run together, and they stop together, whenever the need, and everything seems a little easier. kenma runs with a lighter gait, less worry, less weight.

he should hate kuroo for dragging him along in the first place, even when hindsight spits out stories of things being easier than expected (which doesn’t really mean anything, really. worst case scenarios are supposed to be calculated; probability of an outcome is not of importance). 

he never does.

kenma thinks all their clumsy mistakes they made when they were young were bound to happen, and that with each shed of skin, they grow into their new bodies a little better.

but in five years, kuroo does more than grow out of his shell. and because he no longer needs the protection, it starts to fade out. just like eraser shavings and colored pencils and chicken scratch (maybe not the last one. kuroo’s teacher still claims she can never identify his writing from her four year old’s), it belongs with the colored drawings of nine, ten, and eleven.

now that they’re fifteen, sixteen, there are only clean, crisp photographs of new kuroo. new kuroo who’s steady and easy and lithe in movements and matters and manners.  new kuroo’s shoulders fill out his shirts with his metamorphosis, of which are actually two. first kuroo steps into lanky, awkward, and long-limbed, but from there, he slips into graceful, sauntering. new kuroo has a drawl now. the voice-cracks of the kid calling out for his closest friend’s melted down and all that’s left is speaking slow and sure. he listens to you with everything he is and when he talks, it’s soft words with his sweet candy-grin. people (mostly girls. but also kuroo’s friends. his teachers. strangers. the entire world.) are ready to fall down for him, to die for him.

kuroo is repulsive and kenma tells him so. 

and then kuroo sniggers like a prat and kenma wonders if he made everything up in his head but then kuroo is sending him a friend request on Kingdom Hearts or Stoke the Night and whatever.

there are a lot of confession letters though. kuroo is the captain of a sports team, after all. he’s intellectual and apparently (supposedly) funny and interesting?

kuroo still looks after him a lot though and if it were anyone else (yamamoto telling him to hustle so they can win the next match for sure - that kind of attitude is neither well reasoned nor correct), kenma would be a lot more annoyed.

but kuroo does his own thing though, kenma lets him get away with it and their relationship works nice enough.

“it’s my third year,” kuroo says in the beginning of april, the first day they walk home from school. (first day went okay. fukunaga’s in his class and kenma likes him well enough). “everything’s going to change soon so i figured i’d roll with it. help things along.”

“mhm.” kenma senses whatever kuroo’s trying to say is important. kuroo doesn’t usually stall but if he is then it’s just a taller hill of apprehension kenma has to climb. his palms begin dampening. his thumb punches the power button on his phone. on, off. click click click.

“thank you for being my friend,” kuroo’s pace slows. “it’s meant a lot to me.”

“mhm,” kenma repeats. and? it means a lot to kenma too but they both know it.

kuroo looks straight ahead. they are walking after all and the big bad wolf looks like he has so much on his mind he just might walk into the street if he takes his eyes off the horizon. “when we were in junior high, i had a huge crush on you.”

huh. if this is kuroo’s big revelation, then kenma’s been overestimating him. he’s not even trying to be mean when he laughs, just a little. “yeah. i figured.”

kuroo slaps one of his ginormous hands to his forehead and groans. “what.”

kenma shrugs, starting to relax; it’s always easier to know how to deal with something once you know what you’re dealing with. it’s even easier when it’s someone this familiar. 

kuroo threads a hand into the thick of his bed-hair and tugs the way he does when he’s nervous. when he mutters under his breath, kenma hears just this bit, “okay but...but i...ah. well this changes things.”

“little bit,” kenma agrees, tucking his phone into his pocket. “okay so do we hold hands now or should i wait for flowers first.”

“this is not funny,” kuroo protests, moving his head down to the back of his neck. it’s a little funny. “this is a problem! this is a  terrible problem. also, you’re a rat bastard and anyone who thinks i’m the evil one between the two of us is crazy.”

“false,” he objects, and then because he can’t help himself, he adds, “okay so when do we kiss.”

“gooooooo away, kenma. you’re annoying.”

“no, that’s you.”

“no it’s not.”

“uh, yeah it is?”

“no it’s not.”

kuroo grumbles. “how come you never let me win? i think it’s a little unfair.”

“same reason you’re my player two. winning is for winners and losing is for kuroo.”

and because kuroo is a huge dork (and a loser) he breaks and snickers. “i see.”

kenma hums, content. they both are. still, this was going somewhere before he derailed them to steal a stupid laugh out of stupid kuroo. he leads them back onto the tracks with “so.”

“so,” kuroo echoes.

“you still...feel that way?”

kuroo raises his eyebrows to say yeah. and it’s not like he’s wary; he’s not, because he knows kenma. but he’s given kenma full control of steering and all of a sudden, he doesn’t know where they’re going.

“hm. hypothetically speaking, what would our dates look like?”

“i dunno?” kuroo looks embarrassed, like he wants off this ride. “just hanging out at my house? two rounds of league? some ramen from down the street? damn, kenma, i dunno.”

“so. just the usual?” kenma blames himself for expecting any different. he’s trying not to smirk but ah, kuroo makes this hard.

“yeah, i guess? maybe talk shit about your taste in music, even though you think we listen to the same things? tell you i’m making you a good playlist and put all our favorite songs anyways? wonder if you’ll put your head on my shoulder later? i dunno.”

“you’re terrible at this,” kenma observes. “why does everyone think you’re charming?”

kuroo shrugs. fine. maybe he’s kind of cute. kenma supposes.

he’s finally decided on the other thing too. “okay.”

“hm?”

“i said, okay.” kenma repeats.

“okay to what?” kuroo looks so puzzled kenma has to laugh, and then the realization starts to show through. “oh. you don’t mean...oh.”

“yeah.”

“are...are you sure?” kuroo says, with a little grin. “for real?”

kenma rolls his eyes. from now on, he’ll only talk when kuroo decides not to be stupid.

(if he’s a little more excited than he thinks he’s showing, well. it’s okay for kuroo to know that.)

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

“you’re going to ignore me if i’m being a smartass...until i stop being a smartass? did i get that right?” kuroo says. “huh. well don’t hold your breath.”

kenma gives him the most unimpressed look he can muster.

kuroo grins, like he thinks he’s charming. or something.

maybe he is, just a little.)

[clocksfanfiction]

Arthur tried his best not to glare as he leaned against the doorframe, settled uncomfortably in the purgatory of within the party and without at the same time. His hand itched, wishing he’d kept a hold of his glass of champagne but he refused to return sheepishly to the festivities to retrieve it now. Just as well, if he was seen to be brooding with a glass of alcohol some snide comment would inevitably come his way and ruin what slivers of good mood he still retained. Which was of course why he was trying his best not to frown, not wanting to give the slightest bit of ammunition this year.

“Just how long are you gonna stand there pretending you’re not mad?”

His head turned, the familiar drawl drawing him back to reality as his eyes landed on Alfred Jones. Smug bastard. Staring at him with that all too knowing smile and the audacity to touch it with sympathy. Acting far too much that he could read Arthur like a book. Which he could, of course, but Arthur still refused to acknowledge the fact.

“And what if I’m genuinely not mad?” He replied dryly, raising an eyebrow at his not entirely unwanted companion. Fed up as he was with the party he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed Alfred’s presence. Whether he’d say it aloud or not. 

Alfred sauntered closer - sauntered, not walked, as if everything he did had a legal requirement to drip with the boundless confidence he seemed to have. Irritating, and attractive, and irritating that Arthur found it so attractive.

“Am I required to believe that?” Alfred asked with that annoying, attractive low voice and a smile that just briefly showed off those perfect pearly whites. It was like he was put on the earth to be Arthur’s perfect man.

And Arthur, being Arthur, naturally resented him for it.

“Shockingly enough it doesn’t matter to me what you do or don’t believe.” Arthur huffed, adjusting his stance to stand a little straighter. Alfred was annoyingly tall, (because *of course* he had to be) a fact which only became more evident the closer he got.

Alfred merely chuckled, an expression he threw over his shoulder to observe the party as he teetered on the edge of invading Arthur’s personal space. Arthur wished he would.

Quiet hung between them for a long few moments, Alfred observing the movement of people further inside the room and Arthur pretending he wasn’t studying the handsome profile of Alfred’s annoying face. Not uncomfortable. Surprising even in the midst of a party so large that they could be at ease with one another’s quiet.

“Do you know where you’re standing?” Alfred asked when he finally turned his attention back to Arthur, as if he’d only been waiting the entire time to ask that very question.

“In the doorway?” Arthur asked, obvious, deadpan, unimpressed with whatever joke or meaningful comment Alfred had cooked up to try and persuade him back into the room. He was difficult like that. Everyone had to be happy. Arthur flatly refused to comply with it as a matter of principle.

Alfred chuckled again, that annoying, handsome, know it all chuckle. It always gave Arthur the impression that he was at once being laughed at and being drawn in. Arthur preferred to ignore both. He would have done so on that occasion too if Alfred hadn’t boldly stepped himself firmly into Arthur’s space. Arthur tried not to stare at him, which was exceedingly difficult when Alfred was suddenly occupying at least 60% of his vision and he’d done far more staring with far far less.

“You don’t think there’d be a party without any mistletoe, hm?”

It was a physical fight not to immediately look up, eagerness, shock, and a desire to believe in a little bit of romcom fantasy trying to jerk the muscles in Arthur’s neck immediately back. He wasn’t naive enough to jump in so easily though, huffing a breath that was just one stop short of a snort as he stared up at Alfred.

“Do you use that line-” He began, only to cut himself off abruptly as his slow gaze upward landed readily on a very obvious and very real bough of mistletoe. 

He let himself stare then, unabashed, mouth falling slightly open in shock that the ridiculous romcom suggestion was, in fact, the reality. He ignored Alfred’s laugh, but he had far more difficulty ignoring the honeyed tone the American adopted when his eyes finally lowered to Alfred’s again.

“You don’t subscribe to the traditions of mistletoe?” Alfred asked, with all the smug confidence of a man who knew damned well he was about to get what he wanted.

On principle, Arthur wanted to deny him just that. But Alfred’s gaze kept flickering to his lips and Alfred’s warmth was soaking into his skin the further he moved into Arthur’s space and Arthur had to think that he had, after all, been very, very good this year.

“I didn’t say that.” Arthur replied, barely more than a breath just in time to see Alfred’s grin before he was being kissed, and kissed, and kissed.

Probably a little more deeply than was entirely appropriate for so public an occasion, but hell, it was Christmas.

[twistedwonderlandimagines]

We’ll Be Kings (Part 1)

Okay, so my friend said, “What if you take your two favorite Disney villains and ship their Twisted counterparts together?”

So I guess Leona and Jamil are a thing now... I actually really love this. Villain power couples are great.

I adapted this from my... Other blog. So if you’ve read it there, it’s basically just got a different ending here.

---

Kalim kept going on about something outrageous Lilia had done as Jamil tried to block him out in order to study.

Jamil was used to studying with Kalim’s noise in the background… But the Savanaclaw dorm leader’s piercing gaze coming from across the dining hall was something entirely new.

Those green eyes kept flickering back to examine Jamil; the lion prince wasn’t even subtle about it… Jamil took a deep breath.

He shouldn’t care about Leona’s staring. The man could stare all he wanted as long as he didn’t bother Jamil…

Leona got up from his seat and approached Kalim and Jamil’s table.

“Hey Kalim! Can I borrow Viper a second?” He asked, interrupting Kalim’s chatting.

Kalim cocked an eyebrow questioningly at his friend, and Jamil nodded. “Oh yeah, okay!” Kalim nodded back, smiling politely as he moved to his friend Ace’s table.

“So I’m guessing there’s an important reason you were staring at me?”

Leona smirked and leaned on the table. “You’re pretty impressive, Jamil. I caught sight of you using hypnosis on some Scarabia students to get them in line. My guess is that that’s also the reason Savanaclaw students never pick a fight with you.”

Jamil’s icy glare made even Leona take pause. “You’d do well not to speak about my methods in this crowded place.”

Leona only smirked wider as if liking what he heard. “You are something magnificent, aren’t you?” He reached a hand out to Jamil. “If you want a private conversation, then the Savanaclaw commons will be a perfect choice.”

Jamil stared into his intense green eyes…  “If you try anything, I will make you regret it.” He said coolly, eyes narrowing at the man in front of him.

Leona cocked an eyebrow, gesturing with his eyes to his outstretched hand.

“Fine,” Jamil huffed. He took the third year’s hand, allowing himself to be led to Savanaclaw.

—

The Savanaclaw commons had a different feel than the Scarabia commons, but they were similar enough in design for Jamil to still feel like he was in his comfort zone.

Like in Scarabia, the Savanaclaw commons had large windows looking out into the courtyard (if you could call it a courtyard when it was mainly used as a fighting ring), and it was well-lit and comfortable.

Though, without the golden adornments and elegant architecture of Scarabia, Savanaclaw held a more rustic aesthetic. With plain wood tables and leather chairs and couches in white and shades of brown, the furniture also evoked a calm, almost homey feeling. Certainly not what Jamil had expected from a dorm as rough and wild as Savanaclaw.

“Take a seat anywhere.”

Jamil sat at the couch. “What do you need from me?” He had to make this quick; the commons may not feel threatening, but he didn’t entirely trust Leona.

“I need your brilliant mind~” Leona purred. “I need someone who can match my intellect and ability to plan, and has great magical talents to compliment it.”

Jamil knew that Leona was clearly trying to talk his way into his good graces. “For what purpose?”

“Taking over my kingdom back home. What else?”

He took a deep breath, processing what Leona had revealed to him. He had known that Leona was a second-born prince back in his homeland. But he hadn’t realized that the lazy prince was plotting to overthrow his own brother.

Jamil barely hid a smirk. He could appreciate Leona’s conniving mind even if he couldn’t trust him because of it.

Outwardly, Jamil tried to seem unimpressed. He recognized this as the game it was. ‘You’ll have to try harder if you want to tempt me over to your side, Leona.’ Jamil thought to himself.

“I know your power and brilliance have gone unrecognized,” Leona paused as he observed Jamil, who seemed bored and refused to look at him. Oh, how he enjoyed conversing with Jamil. Finally he had someone who was a challenge to convince! Someone whose intelligence and wit could easily rival his!

“Proud as you are, do pay attention!” Leona growled authoritatively, grabbing Jamil’s face and forcing him to look Leona in the eye. “I am presenting you with the opportunity of a lifetime!”

Jamil snarled, glaring at the prince in front of him. Leona smirked, somewhat pleased with the second year’s defiance. “And what role am I to play?” Jamil asked.

Leona pinched his cheek as one may with a toddler. “Ah, just listen to teacher,” Leona said playfully. “I’m getting to that part… You are to come home with me on the next break from school. Together, we’ll come up with a plan to dispose of my dear brother.”

“And why would I want to help you?”

“Oh… My dearest Jamil~” Leona purred. “Because you will rule as king alongside me, should you choose to accept. And I already know you’ve been planning to overthrow Kalim, so you clearly desire the power and influence.”

Jamil froze, trying to comprehend the situation. What should he question first? The fact that Leona knows of his plots to take over Kalim’s kingdom, or that Leona just not-so-subtly implied that he planned to marry him?

“How did you know about my plans?”

A roaring laugh burst from Leona’s mouth. “I’d only suspected it, but thank you ever so much for confirming that!”

Jamil clenched his jaw, cursing himself for not suspecting Leona of trickery.

Before Jamil could ask any more questions, Leona’s hand slid through his silky black locks, and the lion prince leaned in to whisper in Jamil’s ear. “I’m your ally in this fight, Viper. After all our suffering at the hands of royalty, we will rule our kingdom together. Stick with me, and you’ll never serve another royal again.”

Jamil’s gaze softened… He looked up at Leona admiringly. “It would be good to be connected to a king who understands what it means to have power,” he mused, subtly comparing Leona to the childish Kalim.

Leona’s smirk widened. “Of course, quid pro quo, you’re expected to take certain duties on board,” he said, drawing a line across his throat with his finger.

Jamil laughed at Leona’s apparent assumption that he would be turned off by the idea of murder. “I have no issues with getting my hands dirty.”

“As expected,” Leona responded, raking his hand through Jamil’s black hair. “That’s what’s so perfect about you. That ruthlessness along with that wit and intellect…”

The door to the commons opened, and Ruggie interrupted them. “Leonaaaa! Class is about to start!”

He sighed. Of course Ruggie couldn’t let him have one intelligent, enjoyable conversation with a mind of his own caliber.

Jamil rose from the couch, pulling his hood back over his head.

Before he could leave, Leona pulled him in for a kiss, not bothered by Ruggie’s presence. The hyena boy gagged after the kiss ended.

“Jeez, Leona. Don’t diddle your boyfriend in front of me.”

Leona laughed as Jamil turned red. “Why don’t I walk you to your next class, Viper?”

Jamil huffed, crossing the commons and moving quickly away from Leona. “I don’t want you repeating that little display in the halls.”

“Aw, I felt you kiss back, Jamil~” The prince teased.

“Goodbye, Leona,” Jamil replied, ignoring Ruggie on his way out the door.

[fireintheforest]

Bone earrings

Rialas’s voice trains in, calling Saufinril. The Bosmer is lounging on one of the sofas like a spoiled courtesan, decked in more jewelry than clothing. Saufinril heard it and hesitated. His hand had the latest letter that Ondacano had sent him, so he just pocketed it and dropped the rest of the letters in his bed to burn later, then headed to where Rialas was.

“Hey.”

“There you are, kynd!” Rialas looks like he always does, delighted and amused and smooth. Small sharp pearls of teeth peek from behind his lips, “I’ve been looking for you.” He doesn’t look like he’s moved a muscle. Well, that means he remembered he existed.

“That so? One didn’t hear you until now.” Saufinril sat by Rialas’s knee, similar to how he did when he arrived to Valenwood recently, around two weeks ago, “Do you need something, serah?”

Rialas smiled and moved his hand from the back of the sofa to pet Saufinril’s head like some kind of glimmering, chiming insect. Clearly one of those days Rialas had raided all the gifts he’s ever gotten to cover his hands, fingers, arms…he looks more decorated than a Khajiit clan mother or an Altmer officer. He hummed happily, nails running through Saufinril’s hair like water. Saufinril let him. He’d learned a while back that this was not seen as sexual to the Bosmer (took a while to learn, not going to lie). The Altmer’s hair was soft and he stayed in silence for as long as it lasted. Another lesson of The Green: silence isn’t always bad. After a while, Rialas laughed.

“Sometimes I wish your atta kept his hair long.” Again with the mother-father implications, but the more he’d insisted he wasn’t, the more Rialas was amused and the longer this happened. Rialas pet Saufinril’s hair a couple more times before moving his hand back to rest on the back of the sofa, “Alas, he’s adamant. Really, you might even think he’s going bald, so strongly against growing his hair out.” Rialas made a displeased hum, “Unnatural freak! Shame to his Divine spark. Has anyone ever heard of short-haired Altmer?!” he throws his head back and laughs.

“That’s been the hypothesis since the last era. Maybe he does that to hide his gray hairs?”

“He’s well over thousand! Of course he has grey hair. Look at his eyebrows, kynd!”

“Do you think he’ll shave them if one points those gray hairs out?”

“You could try. It’s your funeral.”

“And one’s debut in public entertainment.”

Rialas laughed. He would probably pay to see it (not that he has ever had to pay for anything he wants in his life).

“He did have his hair long when you both met, right?” Saufinril asked, realizing he’d never thought of it before. Lillandril with long hair was an idea as crazy and impossible as a gentle Nord or cold fire.

“No.” Rialas leaned back, arching his neck and smiling reminiscently, “When we first met he was bald, wet and covered in salt and sand.”

“…what. Scratch that, How did you both meet? One doesn’t think one’s asked before.”

“Oh it’s a long, long story…”

Saufinril nodded. The paper poked his thigh but he ignored it, changing the subject, “What’s with all the jewelry? Is it a special date?”

“Hm?” Ria seemed to pull himself back from far away, then looked at the jewelry hanging on him. He launched back, basking in the attention he draws, “Yes.”

“…is Lillandril letting his hair grow? Is that the special date?”

Rialas laughed and resumed petting Saufinril’s hair, “No. It is ‘I wanted to wear jewelry so I did’ day.”

Saufinril stayed silent, giving only a small nod. Oh by Mara, he could do this again. Wear whatever he wanted. Yesss. Ondac-

He missed him. Or rather, the Ondacano he thought he was.

After another stretch of silence while Rialas did nothing but pet Saufinril’s hair, he pulled something from between the cushions with his free hand. He stretched it towards Saufinril, whatever it was hidden inside his palm. “I almost forgot. I made these for you.” A small movement and a pair of bone earrings dangled from Rialas’s fingers. Saufinril turned to look at the object and blinked, not hiding the surprise.

“One…thank you.” He took the earrings and observed them in his palm, “These are beautiful, Ria.” He observed them in silence, turning them around here and there, “Sorry for asking but…why, why would, why would you give this to one? It’s not that one doesn’t appreciate it, one is just curious.”

“You act like it’s first time amma is giving you things, kind. I thought you might enjoy them. But if you don’t appreciate my handiwork…”

“One does appreciate it.” Saufinril couldn’t take his eyes away from them, observing them in silence, “Ondacano always had some, some stupid condition every time he gave one something. Not that you’re the same. It’s just, a little pesky habit. That’s it. One does appreciate them.”

Rialas made a rude noise, “Well, not like it will bother you again.”

“Considering all the letters he’s sent, one hopes not. One is already on first name basis with the messenger.” Saufinril turned the earrings around, admiring them as he talked (he was always pleasantly surprised when he remembered Rialas had talent), and only sneaking a glance at Rialas when he heard his tone of voice, “ ‘I will change, I’ll be better, remember you made me a promise, please come back’, no thank you.”

Rialas snorted. He gently tapped Saufinril on the head with his pipe, “What do we say about promises like that, kynd?”

“ ‘One didn’t actually mean it’?”

Rialas smiled brightly and leaned over to kiss Saufinril on top of his head, “That’s right.” Saufinril accepted the kiss, acting like it was usual but his ears tinted a shade of pink. Rialas, meanwhile, carefully took the earrings from Saufinril’s hand, “Let amma put them on you?”

Gods, what made him jump into the family boat this morning? “Um…sure” his ears were still something he struggled with accepting being touched here, but this was Rialas. He handed the earrings to Rialas, then removed and pocketed his own. Rialas chuckled and leaned over, a multitude of necklaces spilling over Saufinril, until the earrings had been smoothly attached and Rialas leaned back again, lounging against the sofa like he owned all Valenwood. Saufinril immediately took a hand to touch one of the earrings and smiled, “Thanks, Ria.”

Rialas waved his hand, “Anytime, kynd.”

Out of thin air, Saufinril seemed to recall something: “What makes you so sure he won’t bother us again?”

Rialas looked straight at Saufinril, raising an eyebrow. After a moment he leaned back and closed his eyes. “Can you imagine your atta letting him come anywhere near here after all that?”

Lill had seemed satisfied when he’d told them he’d broken up with Ondacano. Plus…“Was it…that obvious?”

Rialas didn’t raise his head or open his eyes, “Kynd please. You haven’t talked to me properly for, what? Fifty years?”

“One thinks he was jealous of you. He’d ask one if we had anything going on, we’d argue over that. It was stupid.”

“Of course he was jealous.”

Saufinril smiled a bit, albeit bitterly. “Fifty years. One can’t believe one let him get in one’s brain like that.” Rialas made a noncommittal noise in his throat and pet Saufinril’s side with his foot. “Sorry about that.” Saufinril grabbed Rialas’s toe, then said in a more cheerful voice, “One is not going anywhere this time. One is going to stay for a long, long, long time.”

Rialas chuckled, “Just…don’t do anything too stupid.”

“What about moderately stupid? Or are the censors watching?”

“Don’t get funny with me, kynd.” Rialas gently pushed Saufinril with his foot, “Go get yourself ready. Put on all those clothes you’ve been dying to. You’re on the floor today.”

“Right.” He stood up, “By Y’ffre, one missed this.”

Rialas smiled. “I know.” He whispered under his breath.

“We’re not opening yet, though, right? One has something to do.” He looks like he has an idea, and pulls out the letter from his pocket, “Wanna do something stupid with one?”

“What is this stupid thing, hmm?”

“It’s a letter from Ondacano, it reads:” Saufinril pushed his hair back and opened it, reading it aloud, “ ‘Dear, you can’t ignore me forever! What have I done to get your silent treatment?’ “

Rialas’s lips curl in distaste and –just perhaps- a hint of cruelty. Saufinril went on, unaware of this. “ ‘I don’t even know where you are, if you’re safe, who you are with, I’m sick with concern. I’ve asked and looked everywhere for you. Please think about this, I wish to talk this over, get to an agreement if you’re willing to be reasonable.’ “

Rialas huffed, “Lowlife. Not worth even the ink soaked to that letter.”

“You guessed that just from hearing one read it? Although the ‘willing to be reasonable’ is jerk-ish.”

“You have met one like that, you have met them all. And eventually, you learn to recognize them.”

“Isn’t that the truth.” Saufinril eyed the letter again, “ ‘I miss you, peaches.’ Well that’s personal. And seems one hasn’t learned to spot them yet.” Rialas listened to Saufinril reading with face of a mer completely unimpressed by what was written. Peaches, really. How unoriginal. How crude. Saufinril shrugged. Rialas’s eyes had been opened only by the barest crack, and his gaze rested on Saufinril’s new earrings. A slow, sensual smile spread on his lips.

“Anything else that that ruminant wasted perfectly good ink for?”

“Just, you know, ‘I love you, I always did, and I’m not going to give up on ours this easily. It’s the best thing that has happened to me in my life, please don’t punish me like this, not after everything we’ve been through.’” Saufinril didn’t see Rialas’s gaze on his earrings, busy finishing the letter, “Should one…no, right?”

“Should you…what, kynd?” Rialas arched an eyebrow, leaning over a bit in a soft chiming of jewelry.

“One thought of, well…seeing him?” Saufinril paced a bit, his gaze lost as he thought aloud, “To talk, maybe just tell him to quit this and that this time one is really not coming back. Maybe it’s wiser that one doesn’t.”

Rialas closed his eyes and reached a hand to Saufinril, “What do you expect me to say, kynd?”

Taking the hint, Saufinril sat back where he was and rested his head back, allowing Rialas to pet his head again, “Nothing. It’s not your relationship. One is just mad that this didn’t work out again and that one was stupid enough to fall for someone like him again.”

Rialas hummed. He can’t relate. Not really. He has always had what he wanted. Who he wanted. The one and only. And the rest were nothing but playthings. A way to pass time. A birthright. He couldn’t say he was sad that the Altmer was gone. He couldn’t even pretend. It’s not like he was angry or disappointed in Saufinril. Nothing like that. But he had missed him, and so had Lillandril. And the Altmer…Well. He had talked high and mighty but they were all the same. Just like he had said to Saufinril. He chuckled and allowed his hands to brush over the bone earrings. “If that is the stupid thing you asked if I want to do, it is not up to your usual standards, kynd.” Was all Rialas said out loud.

Saufinril, however, smiled. “No. One was wondering if you’re up for burning the letters. There’s more in one’s room.”

Rialas smiled. “I do like fires” he said.

“It’s a big pile, too.” Saufinril said as he stood up.

“Oh alright.” Rialas said, basically leaping up from the sofa, “Show this old mer good time, kynd, hmm.”

Saufinril folded the letter and started to head outside, “We just have to move them out. If one sets fire to them here like last time, Lillandril will hang one.”

“Oh but that is the fun part.” Rialas laughed

Saufinril eyed him, with a ghost of a grin, “Realy? Inside?”

Rialas purred back a “Anywhere you want.” He even winked. This kynd was a bit thick, occasionally, and it’d be such a shame to not see him blush again. He sure is thick because he just said “Alright” and moved on to the floor where the room was, not getting the innuendo. Rialas sighed. This was ok. It was a learning curve. The kynd would get it. Eventually.

They got to Saufinril’s room, where the pile awaited them. It reached up to Rialas’s knee, all letters, in the bed where Saufinril had left them. Saufinril pushed the pile to the ground and tossed the newest letter on top.

“What a waste of ink.” Rialas said

“And money, and parchment, and time. At least for one, when reading them.”

“Come on, light it. Don’t be scared. Lill is not back yet.”

Saufinril raised his hand to his face. His four fingers were curled and the thumb was up, gaze focused on his hand, and cracked his thumb’s knuckle by curling it swiftly. A small, golden spark emerged from the knuckle with a clack! sound, appearing and disappearing into thin air at the same time that the pile suddenly was set on fire, never being touched or the spell directed by Saufinril’s hand. The letters started to curl and darken as the blazes took over. Some envelopes opened and revealed things like septims, charms, pressed flowers and a white ribbon. Saufinril groaned and rolled his head back, eyes closed.

“What a fool. Pressed flowers? In Valenwood.”

“He’d say it was just a ‘fairy tale’ and that it was an ‘archaic religion’ before the Bosmer got to believe in ‘real gods’. Like one said, it was stupid.”

Rialas hummed, watching the envelopes burn.

“And a white ribbon, really.” Saufinril continued, releasing his leather strip to tie his hair again, “One accepted because it felt like one has no choice. How idiotic is that? And money, what, to buy one back?”

“Fool.” Rialas said, but it wasn’t certain which Altmer the word was aimed at. There’s silence as the paper burns.

“Did Lillandril try to win you over with flowers?”

“He wouldn’t dare.” Rialas tossed his twin braids proudly.

“What about any exes?”

“We are in Valenwood, kynd.” It was not really an answer, “Besides, I don’t have any exes.”

“…Lillandril is the only non-Bosmer you’ve ever dated?”

Rialas laughed. “Lillandril is the only one I have ever dated. I met him when I was 59.”

Saufinril slowly turned to look at Rialas. For someone that at 23 was banging two Dunmer simultaneously and from there had around 7 or 8 boyfriends…this was something. “The only one?”

Rialas arched his eyebrow at Saufinril. “We can’t all start experimenting underage.”

“No, one knows but you just, met him and decided this was the one? What charmed you, his smile?”

Rialas made his dress of gold be sound, “Hardly. It was the constant begging and whining of ten or so years.” He tilted his head, like he was thinking deeply, “And of course. He was absolutely well proportioned for an Altmer.”

“Huh.” Saufinril was going to say something else when that last comment made him give a side glance. At that  moment the flames turned purple.

“Watch your fire.” Rialas said in cool tone.

“What did that asshole put in there?” Saufinril tilted his head, “Should we kill the fire now?”

“Depends,” Rialas shrugged, “do you wish to burn down the Den or only the letters?”

“Yeah, you-” from the fire, it started to come the suffocated noise of someone talking, as if it were from far away. Both Saufinril and Rialas could identify the voice as Ondacano’s, but Saufinril just gave it a short glance before using an ice spell on the miniature pyre to turn it off.

“A voice spell.”

“Crass.” Rialas said, like he was one of the Altmer magicka virtuosos and not a Bosmer with almost no magical gifts.

“Because begging in a voice spell is somewhat better than begging in a letter.” Saufinril gently moved aside his hair and earrings as he checked that no lit embers remained, “Next thing one knows, he’ll come in person to beg to one to take him back.” Rialas laughed, “How many did he send?” Saufinril kept searching, putting aside the purple-stained envelopes . Here and there some more pressed flowers swish out of parchments, one half-burned letter read something like ‘-at house trained, son of a bitch, shit-fucking Bos-’.

“Make sure you wipe all the ice away so it won’t melt. Fro will throw a fit.”

“One can say it was her 9 year old.”

“The one she has placed in care of Lillandril for the day. That 9 year old. That one who won’t get anywhere without my backup lunch knowing of it? Your funeral.”

“Fine. Damn it, and his sister is too well-behaved.” Saufinril scooped the ashes and checked for scorch marks.

“You have to learn to cover your crimes.”

“Eh, one will think of something.”

Rialas laughed, “Just make sure you get yourself ready. We’ll open in half an hour, you know.”

“One can cover this in five, get ready in the other 25. What about you, how long will you take to get ready?”

“Kynd. I was born ready.”

Saufinril looked at Rialas, then at the jewelry, then at Rialas. He looks like he’s about to say something, something that might get his tongue hunted, but decides against it, “Good to know.” He can’t help the curl on his lips. Rialas pet Saufinril’s head and turned his back, walking back out to the starting buzzle of the Den, “Twenty minutes.”

“What-but you just said-fuck!” Saufinril proceeded to make a mix of tossing as many wet big pieces of ashes on the counter, undo his ponytail, grab a comb, and overall cover the crime from Lillandril while getting ready at the same time.

[haphazardlyparked]

states and secrets

regret everything part sixteen  (part fifteen)

“Well,” Kan says, leaning back in his chair. He waits a little longer before continuing — Noki may have closed the door behind him, but Kan knows he’s lingering just a hair longer than is proper. He wouldn’t be Kan’s brilliant diplomat if he didn’t.

Still. This is important — it’s just him, the Dowager, and Sem. The Dowager even moves from Sem’s desk to one of the vacant chairs in front of Kan’s desk, so that Sem can return from his long-suffering banishment to the corner of the room. When he takes his seat, Kan reaches into one of his draws and activates the newest security protocols, a net of anti-eavesdropping interference technology, and frowns.

“Sem,” he says. He shakes his head at his secretary. “You’ve failed me.”

Sem looks as unimpressed hearing this for the millionth time as he had the first time. “Sir,” he says politely, acknowledging the criticism with an arched brow. The better part of Sem’s attention is clearly reserved for the sheafs of papers and pads arrayed before him that weren’t there moments ago.

The Dowager indulges Kan. “What happened, darling boy?” she asks, opening the door to Kan’s dramatics.

“Guess which zealot Sahms were Ambassador Isokai’s late and dearly beloved parents?” Kan asks.

The study is silent while the Dowager and Sem consider the possibilities, and then Sem purses his lips together in realization.

“That’s an unfortunate coincidence,” he says, completely understating it. The Akal-naya Sahms who had sent an assassin after Kan before his first year at the Institute—and whom Kan had subsequently had killed in a quiet retaliation—were Isokai’s parents. It makes a great deal of sense to Kan, in an awful way.

The Dowager looks at him pityingly. “I’m an incredibly fortunate woman. All of this madness is your father’s bad luck, or his seed’s fault for making you a man,” she opines.

“Let’s please not talk about my father’s seed,” says Kan.

“How did you find out?” Sem asks, wisely choosing to ignore the Dowager’s comments. “We didn’t know that, and you know how carefully the whole affair was planned.”

“Isokai hinted it to me a couple of weeks ago,” Kan explains. “And then he forgave me. Now, what were you saying about my luck, Mother? And I quote, ‘I accept your apology, Lord Kan. I would offer you one on their behalf, but it wouldn’t be honest, I’m afraid.’” Kan recounts the moment with a relish that’s quashed by the Dowager’s scoff. 

“You apologized?” she demands.

Kan rolls his eyes. “Yes, Mother. One generally has to do that before being forgiven.”

The Dowager frowns. “I don’t think I approve of you apologizing for defending your own life,” she says severely. “Was this at the housewarming party?”

“Think of it as apologizing for the coincidence instead,” Kan suggests. “And yes, it was at the party. That went beautifully, thank you for asking. My Noki was the belle of the ball.”

“I heard,” Sem offers, glancing down at a note, “that your Noki gave you a five on your performance of co-hosting duties. That’s the lowest grade you’ve ever received, Lord Kan.”  

“It’s disturbing that you know my record so well,” complains Kan. “You’re not my father.”

“No, fortunately enough,” Sem grins back. “Just your spymaster.”

“Assistant spymaster,” the Dowager corrects. Kan and Sem share an exaggerated look that earns Kan a rap of the Dowager’s stylus against his knuckles. Hissing in surprise more than pain, Kan grabs his hands back and shakes them out.

“Shall we get to it, then?” the Dowager asks haughtily.

“I love you, Mother.”

“Shut up, darling boy. Sem?”

Sem looks down at his papers grimly, and his smile fades. “It’s been a tough week for the moderates in the Samran government,” he begins.

“That is impressive new technology you’ve developed,” Isokai observes when Kan steps out into the hall outside his small audience study. He’s a few minutes late for their meeting, but he doesn’t doubt Isokai arrived precisely on time.

“Did you think I hadn’t noticed those ‘ears’ everywhere?” Kan asks archly, and Isokai shrugs, his expression carefully bland.

Now that Kan knows Isokai is an ambassador versed in the business of shadow states—how else would he have known about the volley of assassination attempts?—he feels more… comfortable, around the ambassador. Though neither of them would discuss such things openly, Kan finds they can still speak more honestly. He thinks Isokai understands him better than the rest of the Exchange too, since he sees the fuller picture that not many else do. It creates a sort of understanding between them.

Kalna doesn’t know how he feels about that, yet. He and Iska aren’t always enemies, but Kalna remembers how often he’s railed against Iska. He remembers his anger and outrage, mixed in with bitterness and other things he doesn’t want to examine too closely, like a burning scratch at the back of his throat. It reminds him that he can still say the wrong thing—that he can always do the wrong thing, too.

Those were past cycles, Kalna thinks firmly. 

In this cycle, Isokai offers him a rueful half-smile. “I have my orders,” the ambassador says, and it’s not an apology. It’s just another acknowledgement that even if they’re not enemies, their nations aren’t friends yet either. “As any one does.”

“Except me,” Kan says contrarily. He starts heading down the hall towards the skybridges at the end, and Iska falls into step beside him. “I don’t take orders from anyone.”

“You never did.” Isokai’s voice is dry as ever, but this time Kan detects the humor in it.

He grins. “I dreamed that I followed your orders, once.”

“I am sure it was only the once.”

“And it was just a dream. A dream of very long ago.” Kalna laughs and tries not to think of the warmth-suffused half-dreams, wishes of a past life buried under layers of cycles.

He gestures Iska into the lift before him.

After the housewarming party, Iska had agreed to meet with him to discuss public image strategies with genuine potential. As the son of prominent Sahms and a high-profile member of Samra’s government, Kalna hopes that Iska could offer insight and suggestions that Noki, as a foreigner, might miss. It had been Iska’s idea to meet somewhere more private, so Kalna takes them to another of his favorite hideaways on the city’s ground level.

After following one of the paths on the outskirts of the ground level districts, Kalna leaves the walkway and cuts across the grass, towards the forests which Iska likes so much. The treeline is too distant easily reach on foot from where they are, but much closer is an artful rock garden formed around a small, concealed pond. It’s there that Kalna takes them, and not only because he wants to see Iska climb in his bulky robes.

The pool at the center of the garden, accessible only by a bit of clambering up and over the outer rock face, is private and unfrequented, and just outside the bounds of the city.

“Iska,” Kalna says, as soon as the ambassador has seated himself on a smooth stone bench carved into the inner side of the circle of rock. He pulls bits of loose stone from the garden around him to his hands and starts tossing them idly into the pool. “Are you absolutely sure you can’t just wish my problem away?”

Iska eyes Kalna, like he might be regretting this secluded setting. “You know that is not how my ability works, and especially not in a world like this.”

It’s true; Kalna’s power is diminished here too. He doesn’t know if he can do more than pull pebbles or the occasional stylus to him, and more than that, he hasn’t tried. It’s as if that part of him is dormant still, sleeping along who knows what else. 

“Well,” Kalna sighs. “It was worth a try. What have you come up with for me, then?”

Iska’s lips twitch in the tiniest of frowns. “In complete honesty, I don’t believe you will ever be able to change the mind of the Akal-naya sect, and they have amassed a disproportionate amount of power. However, they are largely of an older generation, and younger Samrans have proven themselves to be more interested in fostering better relations between our countries.”

“So that’s your advice then?” Kalna asks. “I should set my sights on outliving the extremist Akal-naya.” He tosses a pebble into the pond, to punctuate his point.

The pebble abruptly becomes a flower which floats gently onto the water’s surface, robbing Kalna of the satisfying plop.

“That would be the long-term strategy,” Iska says blandly, eyeing the flower while it turns back into a pebble—a different pebble, Kalna notices—that sinks silently to the bottom of the pool. “I have a great deal more advice on ways to smooth that road, if you are ready to listen.”

“I’m the lord of Tasak, and you’ve been to my Congress,” Kalna drawls. “I’m fantastic listener. I’m practically a professional.”

“You will not find me an easy target for your cross-examinations,” says Iska.

Kalna snorts. “Don’t make that a challenge, Iska,” he warns. “We were just starting to get along.”

“Where were you today?" Noki asks when Kan gets home. He’s standing at the kitchen counter over a tablet, and he sounds very, very casual. Kan wonders what’s got his goat -- it can’t be the hour, because it’s not unusual for Kan to be home this late. 

Hanging his coat by the door, Kan bounds into the kitchen and sidles up to Noki from behind, wrapping his arms around the diplomat.

"What do you mean?" he asks the top of Noki’s hair.

Noki dodges the kiss Kan tries to plant on his cheek, twisting his shoulders to pull himself partially free from Kan’s hold. “I dropped by,” he explains, twisting awkwardly in the circle of Kan’s arms until they are facing each other, Noki’s back against the counter. “And you weren't there."

"Did I miss an appointment?” Kan’s surprised by the possibility. It isn’t like him to skip commitments by accident, especially not with Noki. “I thought we only had the morning one.”

"No,” Noki says, a little peevishly. “I was trying to surprise you."

"You never drop by,” Kan points out.

"Thus the surprise,” Noki replies dryly, in the kind of way that makes Kan think that whatever Noki’s surprise was, Kan’s chances of still getting it aren’t that good.

"Noki, peach of the most beautiful garden," he sighs. "I had voluntary interaction with Ambassador Isokai. We discussed culture and had a late lunch. Can I have the surprise right now, instead? I think I deserve it." Kan dips his head to steal a quick kiss for emphasis.

Noki’s nose wrinkles. “You had lunch with Isokai," he repeats disbelievingly. "Alone?"

"Yes, yes,” Kan says impatiently. “And we both survived it without a scratch. I can be civilized, Noki."

“Are you still annoyed by the party?” Noki asks. The question is abrupt, and Kan doesn’t see the relation. His brow furrows as he tries to work out what Noki is actually upset about, if it isn’t the thwarted surprise, but he comes up blank.

“I’m confused,” Kan admits. “I thought we had agreed the party went very well.”

“I —” Noki starts, then stops and sighs. “I’m sorry,” he says when he continues. “I don’t know, maybe I thought you were avoiding me after the morning.” Leaning forward, Noki slips his arms under Kan’s and hugs him, pressing his face into Kan’s chest as he goes. “Ignore me,” he mumbles into the hollow at the base of Kan’s throat. “I’m being silly.” 

“Okay,” Kan agrees easily. Curling his fingers around Noki’s hips, he pulls Noki even closer. “It’s already forgotten,” he assures his diplomat. “Now. How can I convince you to bring me a new surprise?”

(next - part seventeen)

chugging along, choo choo. 

@gingerly-writing @severe-fangirl-syndrome @rrrawrf 

[lucelockwood]

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5

Lucy can’t tell if nothing has changed or if everything has.

On the one hand, life following their engagement continues on just about as it always has. She’s known for ages that her life and Anthony’s were inseparably intertwined. She knows he loves her, with a certainty that she’d never have thought possible only a few short years earlier. The fact that they were now engaged to be married did not cement these truths in Lucy’s mind any more than they had already been.

But she cannot say that her world is entirely unaltered either. Every time she moves she feels the foreign weight of the ring on her hand, accompanied by a spike of breathless excitement. It’s impossible to feel like nothing has changed when everything she does is now accompanied by the reminder that she’s going to marry Anthony. That he wants to be with her, and only her. That he’s so certain of his choice that he wants to promise to stay with her for the rest of his life even though they’re barely adults by the world’s standards.

It’s insane, Lucy knows it’s insane. But nothing in her life has ever felt so perfectly right, either.

Anthony is his usual suave self, complete with blinding smiles and uncharted levels of confidence, but there are differences in him as well. The genuine, soft happiness that Lucy often catches glimpses of in quiet moments now burns bright and unchecked. It’s in the long looks he throws her way, in the tone of his voice when he talks to her, in the way he takes her hand under the table or pulls her into a quiet corner for a moment alone. In everything Anthony Lockwood does, it is clear: there has never been anyone as perfectly happy as he is, and she is the reason.

Well, if they’re measuring happiness, Lucy’s pretty sure she could give him a run for his money.

They don’t tell anyone outright, but in a family like theirs, there’s absolutely no chance of keeping something like this secret for long. And sure enough, it doesn’t even take a day before Holly notices the ring on Lucy’s finger.

They’re all in the office when it happens, making preparations for that evening’s case. Lucy’s deep in discussion with Anthony, sitting on the side of her desk with her feet propped up on the side of his. He is opposite her, leaning against his desk, one hand resting on her ankle. She’s got her arms folded, the fingers of her left hand absentmindedly drumming on her arm as they spoke.

Holly’s unholy shriek from the other side of the room draws the attention of everyone in the office. There’s a moment of silence in which Holly’s hands cover her mouth, and then pandemonium breaks loose.

“Holly, what—”

Anthony is interrupted by Quill, who comes skidding in from the practice room with his rapier out defensively. “What is it, what’s happened?”

Holly darts around the workbags and belts that are neatly arranged around her, unapologetically knocking George’s latest experiment off of his desk as she crosses the room and ignoring his protests in the resulting crash. “Lucy Carlyle, is that what I think it is?”

Unnerved by the sudden commotion and Holly’s piercing gaze, Lucy can only manage a startled “what?”

The question comes from both her and George, who abruptly abandons his mess in favor of discovering what it is that has the normally composed Holly so excited. Behind them all, Quill lets out a long-suffering sigh. “So no one’s dying in here? We’re just shrieking at will now, is that it?”

He’s more or less ignored as Holly grabs Lucy’s hand in both of hers, pulling until she can see the ring clearly. Across from Lucy, Anthony starts to laugh, holding up his hands in surrender when Lucy shoots him the sternest look she can manage.

“It is, isn’t it?” Holly squeals, shoving Lucy’s hand in front of George’s face so he can see it as well. “Oh, I knew something was up, you’ve both been giggling all day!”

“Giggling?” Anthony protests, though he’s still laughing and Lucy’s scowling “have not” drowns him out. Quill’s moving in from behind now, craning his neck in an effort to see. “I’d love to be clued in,” he says to no one in particular.

“Lucy’s got an engagement ring,” Holly beams, taking pity on him at last and showing him the ring. “Right?” she asks Lucy, whose face is burning so hot that she’s certain it’s turned a deep shade of red.

“I do, in fact,” Lucy says, exasperated, “though I missed the part where it’s anyone else’s business. And I’d like my hand back.”

Holly doesn’t seem to hear her, she’s too busy inspecting the beautiful setting. Lucy can’t blame her for that; the ring is breathtaking, and she’s spent her own fair share of time that day staring at it herself.

“I suppose that’s your ring then, Lockwood?” George asks, looking pointedly between him and Lucy.

“Wouldn’t that be a riot if it wasn’t,” Quill mutters, though he is now grinning as broadly as Holly.

“It’s mine,” Anthony says, with just the slightest hint of defensiveness in his tone. “Well, now it’s Lucy’s, technically.”

George straightens, pushing his glasses up his nose with one finger. “You’re getting married.” It’s not a question, just a statement of fact.

Nothing Lucy has thought or heard yet has so perfectly captured her own feelings on the subject as George’s blunt observation. They’re getting married. It’s not a question, a what if, or a dream. It’s simply what is—what always was going to happen. She smiles at George broadly. “Yeah, we are.”

There is pandemonium again at that, though it’s of a less panicked variety than the first. Holly continues to squeal, hugging Lucy, then Anthony, then Lucy again, before giving in and hugging them both. When they can get Holly out of the way, Quill and George both offer their congratulations in the form of handshakes. George is boasting a rare smile and Quill’s handshake with Lucy turns into a one-armed hug, and then Holly’s back again. A host of questions follows, most of them predictably revolving around when they’re planning to have the wedding, though Holly’s questions turn very quickly towards flowers and colors and dresses and a million other things that Lucy hasn’t even had the time to consider yet.

They’d barely even talked about dates, let alone all the rest of it, so Lucy shrugs off all the questions with a simple “we’ll let you know.”

“Hopefully soon,” Anthony adds, and Lucy knows in no uncertain terms that he means the wedding itself. His gaze burns into hers, setting her heart racing and her face aflame all over again. She shoots him a patented Carlyle Look, but the effect is ruined by the smile that is drawn out of her at the sight of him—flushed, beaming, happy. He takes her hand in his, lacing their fingers together with a reassuring squeeze that Lucy returns.

George and Quill both take the sudden shift in atmosphere as their cue to leave. With a final round of congratulations and a few pointed looks, they head up the spiral staircase together. Lucy distinctly hears Quill’s amused voice muttering about babies marrying babies before she’s distracted by Holly, who poses one last question. “How did you propose, Lockwood?”

“I just asked her,” Anthony shrugs, winking at Lucy when she rolls her eyes, completely unimpressed.

“I had to relive every near-death experience we’ve ever had,” Lucy protests, turning to face her incorrigible boyfriend. Fiancé. Another fabulous look is destroyed by the smile that springs to life at this mental correction. “Vague comments with no context. For a week. That’s ‘just asking,’ is it?”

His smile matches hers, and though his words are teasing, his voice can only be described as smitten. “I had to wait for the right moment or the effect would have been ruined, Luce.”

“Right, and you got no enjoyment whatsoever out of teasing me in the meantime.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Anthony Lockwood—”

They’re interrupted by a laugh from Holly, who Lucy had quite forgotten was even in the room. Her attention had focused in on Anthony, his infuriating smirk, his endearing blush, his teasing that warmed her right down to her toes. His inherent gravitational pull—stronger now than it had ever been before—had done the rest.

“Nevermind,” Holly grins. She looks from Lucy to Anthony and back again with such a knowing look that Lucy is immediately mortified. “I’ll ask you later, Luce. I’m so happy for you both.” She turns and heads for the spiral staircase, tossing the same knowing look over her shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen above and leaving the office suddenly, blessedly silent.

Lucy lets out a breath of relief. “That went over better than I thought it would.”

“Did you see that look?” Anthony murmurs in her ear, his tone unapologetic despite his blush. “You’d think we were getting up to all kinds of mischief when they’re not looking.”

“We are,” Lucy says brazenly, but the rest of her retort stalls when Anthony presses a kiss just below her ear.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He doesn’t pull away; instead his lips brush against her skin as he speaks, sending shivers straight to Lucy’s toes. He kisses her again where her neck meets her jaw, lingering there as his arms circle her from behind. “I find all this talk of marriage has put me in an extremely good mood.”

“Must be nice,” Lucy grumbles, though her voice catches with each new kiss. “Mostly it’s just given me anxiety.”

Lucy can feel his smile growing, feel his breath warm on her skin. “I can change that.”

[thejokersenigma]

Christmas Fan Fiction 2017 - Day 11 - Robin(Dick Grayson) x Reader - Two Lives Part 1

So, I’ve never really written these characters before, so I apologise if they aren’t very accurate! Also, this was only going to be a oneshot, but I think I might write 2 parts for this now as I think I can write more it, but I was running out of time tonight!

Hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST

“I’ll see you tonight?” Y/N asked from her bundle of blankets on the sofa where they had been watching TV together.

“Yeah.” Dick Grayson nodded, as he gathered up his things for work.

“You mean it this time?” Y/N asked, grabbing at his arm as he went to move towards the door, “You’re not going to cancel at the last minute again?”

“What’s this about, [Y/N]?” Asked Dick, taking her hand from his arm and cupping it in his own hands, perching back on the sofa next to her.

She hesitated from a moment, suddenly embarrassed by her persistence. “It’s just that, for the last two years we’ve been together, you’ve never been free over Christmas, valentine’s day or my birthday - let alone all the date nights you’ve missed. I mean, I don’t want to be an overbearing girlfriend, but, just for once, I want you around tonight. Please.” She begged at her hands, unable to look him in the eye. She was embarrassed for demanding so much from him.

Dick watched [Y/N], reading the emotions on her face, despite her attempt to hide. He didn’t know what was worse – the fact that everything she said was true about him never being around was true, or the fact that she thought she was being overbearing. She had put up with so much of his shit over the years. And he felt bad. Felt bad because every day he had missed any date with had bruised his own heart, let alone hers. He knew he let her down. And he knew he’d been warned against relationships from the moment he’d started staring at girls on the street. His future wasn’t made for a normal life, a wife and family. His destiny was different from other peoples, ever since Bruce showed him the Batcave.

“I promise. We’ll spend this Christmas together.” Dick said, kissing her hand cupped in his. She looked up at him and was blushing which just swelled his own heart. “But right now, I’ve to go. I’ll see you tonight. Promise.” He said again.

[Y/N] nodded, “Tonight.” She agreed, and they exchanged a short, but passionate kiss behind, and Dick left.

 “I’m sorry again about the change.” Apologised Dick for the tenth time as he pulled his motorbike up outside the imposing Wayne mansion.

“It’s fine Dick, honestly.” Y/N insisted, “As long as we’re together, I don’t mind where we spend Christmas.”

Dick gave her a small smile. He had rung her mid-afternoon to tell her that his adopted parent Bruce Wayne had wanted him to visit for Christmas and Dick had insisted [Y/N] accompany him so they could still spend the holiday together – repeatedly promising her that the billionaire really wouldn’t mind her being there.

The truth was something Dick couldn’t tell her. That Bruce was in fact the masked vigilante Batman, and Dick his sidekick Robin, and that Bruce had not asked him to Christmas, but instead required his services as Robin.

But Dick wasn’t about to cancel yet another plan with [Y/N]. Not after he promised her that morning. But you couldn’t exactly say no to Bruce either. So, he had to compromise.

The couple walked up to the large double front door of the mansion, Dick pulling on the archaic pull string doorbell, hearing the heavy antique bell ringing out throughout the house. They waited a few moment before the aged butler answered the door.

“Ah, Master Dick and – [Y/N]!” He exclaimed, pleasantly surprised.

“Merry Christmas Alfred!” [Y/N] greeted, “You sound surprised to see me! Did Dick not tell you I was coming as well?”

“Why not, he didn’t.” Muttered Alfred with an unimpressed look at Dick who was looking rather sheepish next to [Y/N].

“Sorry.” He muttered, “Guess I forgot…”

Alfred kept his steely gaze on Dick for a few moments longer, “Never mind,” He eventually dismissed, “If there is anything this house isn’t lacking – it’s space.” He declared and ushered them inside.  

Alfred took them to one of the main drawing rooms where a large fire was already lit in the hearth. The couple settled themselves down in the thick, plushie armchairs that surrounded the fireplace as Alfred made promises of hot chocolate and hurried to the kitchen.

Dick reached for [Y/N]’s hand, taking it in his own, “I’m so-“

“If you apologise one my time, I’ll slap you.” [Y/N] told him firmly, but wasn’t able to hold her scowl long before she burst into laughter at his expression. Dick couldn’t help but smile at her innocent laughter.

He regrettably rose from his chair next to her, letting her hand go, “I’m just going to go try and find Bruce.” He said. [Y/N] nodded in understanding and turned her gaze on the fire as Dick left the room.

Dick headed to Bruce’s study, but wasn’t surprised to find it empty, immediately turning to the old grandfather clock that stood against the wall opposite the large oak desk. He hit a hidden switch and the clock swung aside, leaving a gaping dark passageway with steps that ran downwards.

Without hesitation, he headed down the passageway, knowing each step off by heart and descending quickly despite the poor lighting.

The passage finally opened up into a large cavern with metal platforms at different heights connected my metal steps. On the first platform, directly opposite the stairs, sat a large monitor which Dick now strode up to, immediately switching it on and connecting the communicator on the Batcomputer to that on the Batmobile.

“Batman?” He called into the screen.

“Robin.” Came the response and the screen flickered into life showing the profile of batman as he drove through the Gotham night. “Where have you been?” Came the gruff voice.

“Nice to see you too.” Sassed Dick.

“I need you to run a search on a name.” Said Bruce, completely ignoring Dick’s attitude.

“Hit me.”

Dick dashed back up the stairs and back to the fireplace where [Y/N] now sat with a cup of hot chocolate.

“You look out of breath.” She observed, slightly surprised, as he entered the room.

“What? Oh – uh,” He searched his mind quickly for an excuse when he saw her questioning face. “Bruce had me running a few errands, that’s all.”

“So, he invited you to Christmas as a guest, and now he has you doing his chores for him?” She asked, shocked. Robin shrugged indifferently. The truth was, he had been running up and down the Batcave setting several systems searching for a criminal that Bruce was trying to track down.

“Why don’t you have a seat for a while, I’m sure Bruce can spare you.”

Robin looked uncertain, knowing he couldn’t stay too long away from the Batcomputer in case Bruce tried to contact him, or the system got a hit on this criminal, but [Y/N]’s face made him take a seat anyway. [Y/N] smiled happily and handed him a mug of hot chocolate topped with mini marshmallows and whipped cream that Alfred had brought for the couple.

“So, what exactly is he making you do?”

“What?” Robin shook himself out of his thoughts that were on the criminal tracker below them.

“Bruce.” [Y/N] prompted. “What is he making you run around doing?”

“Uh – um – “ Robin scrambled, “Presents. He’s crap at wrapping them. Use to get Alfred to do them, but his arthritis is acting up.”

“So why were you out of breath?” She frowned.

“Uh – dashing up the stairs – needed to move the presents before anyone saw them.”

“So, are you even wrapping your own?”

“Uh – yeah – Bruce has never been one for secrets...” Muttered Robin, trying not to smirk at the lie. “I don’t mind…” He shrugged.

[Y/N] nodded, “So where is Bruce whilst you are running around for him?”

“Uh – he’s at meeting.”

“On Christmas eve?” she asked in disbelief, “Then why’d he invite you round?”

“Uh – it was an emergency meeting – I don’t really know what about, I stopped listening to the old man years ago.” He joked painfully, wishing she’d drop the subject.

[Y/N] still looked concerned, but she seemed to buy it.

“You know, I’m just going to go catch up with Alfred.” Said Robin, putting his mug down and pushing himself to his feet. “See how he’s doing with those mince pies – I’m starving!” he added, placing a hand over his stomach.

[Y/N] smirked, knowing his appetite well, “Ok, sure.” Y/N nodded, watching him as he headed out of the room.

As soon as Dick was out of [Y/N]’s sight, he raced down the hallway, dashing past Alfred heading towards the drawing room with a plate of mince pies. He skidded to halt. “Alfred!” He cried, skidding to a halt and back tracking to where the butler had paused. “Alfred!” He repeated out of breath, sticking an arm out to keep the butler where he was. “I need you to stay in the kitchen for a bit!”

Alfred frowned at the young man, “Whatever for, Master Dick?”

“I told Y/N I was coming to chat with you in the kitchen, but I need to check the analyser!”

Alfred considered the situation for a moment before relenting. “Very well, Master Dick.” Alfred muttered, though he didn’t seem impressed - he personally thought Y/N deserved better than all these lies.

Dick could read the disapproval on his face, but he couldn’t do anything about it right now - he was wasting time. “Thanks Alfred!” He cried, dashing past the old man and into Bruce’s office and through the secret clock passage way once more.

The batcomputer was flashing with a hit on a set of possible coordinates. Dick contacted the Batmobile again. “What took you so long?” Came Bruce’s gruff voice again.

“Nice to see you Robin, thanks for taking time out of your day to help, Robin.” Dick muttered as he punched in the coordinates to send to the batmobile. “There’s been a hit close to the South Bridge, near the library, I’m sending the coordinates over now.”

“Thanks.”

“Is that all you need of me tonight?”

The Bruce on the monitor raised his eyebrow under the batman mask. “You brought [Y/N].” It wasn’t a question.

“How do you know?” Dick asked, surprised.

Bruce said nothing. His knowing face was enough, and Dick sighed. The cat was out of the bag. “I couldn’t leave her alone at Christmas again, Bruce! Why do the criminals always choose the major holidays to plan their heists?”

“[Y/N]’s feelings are the least of our problems, Dick. You don’t have to send her home, but I need all of your concentration on this.”

Dick sighed heavily again, knowing there was no way he was going to convince Bruce to give him the night off. “What do you need me to do?” He drawled.

“Focus down on these coordinates,” Bruce instructed glancing on the map next his communicator, “and get me all the information on that building – any signs of activity over the last month.”

Dick sulked for a moment. “Fine.” He muttered sullenly before shutting off the communicator.

He quickly started a search on the systems for any data on the abandoned buildings surrounding the old library, and then dashed back up the stairs to the kitchen, gesturing for Alfred.

“And how long, sir, do you plan to keep this up?” Alfred asked with a raised brow as he followed Dick towards the drawing room. “All night?”

“If I have to Alfred. Bruce isn’t letting up on the work and I don’t think he’ll let me change shifts.” Robin tried to joke, but there was no humour in his voice. He was starting to feel tired.

They entered the large living room, finding [Y/N] still sat in the armchair having finished her hot chocolate. “Wow, you guys must gossip like house wives.” She laughed, helping herself to a mince pie that Alfred offered off the tray. Robin gave an uneasy laugh as Alfred shot him a look.

“Oh yes…” Muttered Alfred, watching Dick, “We’ve been nattering for so long, that these mince pies have become quite cool.” Pointed out Alfred, with another unimpressed look at Robin.

[Y/N] noticed this, “Oh, no its fine! Mince pies are good hot or cold – and these are lovely Alfred, thank you!” She beamed at the old man, who couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“Aren’t you going to have one, Dick?” She asked gesturing to the tray that Alfred had now place on the coffee table next to her.

“Oh no, I’m not hungry.” Dismissed Dick with a small wave of his hand, not in the mood for food, the stress of his situation starting to take its toll on him.

“But I swear you said you were starving a minute ago.” Y/N pointed out with a frown.

“Oh – yeah – I uh, I may have nicked a few whilst we were ‘nattering’” He muttered, doing his best sheepish impression, the heat on his cheeks genuine.

“Oh.” Said Y/N, in understanding.

“I will leave you two to it then.” Alfred said, bowing out of the scene. “I shall tidy up and then turn in.” He bid them goodnight which then returned and watched the elderly man leave the room.

Dick collapsed into the chair next to [Y/N] closing his eyes briefly.

“You look exhausted.” [Y/N] said, concern in her voice.

Dick opened his eyes, and sitting up and looking across at her, trying his best to look alert. “No, no – I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Come on, we’re calling it a night.” [Y/N] said firmly, pushing herself to her feet and grabbing Dick’s hand, helping to haul him to his feet. “Now. Lead the way, as I have no idea where I am going.” [Y/N] grinned at him.

Dick couldn’t help but smile back, he grabbed her hand and pulled her into him, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Come on then.” He grinned, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

He took her to his old room and went through their usual evening routine. Once they were both in bed, however, Dick lay wide awake, watching [Y/N] fall asleep. As soon as he was certain that she was deeply enough asleep, he slipped out of the bed and down to the study, disappearing once more down the secret passageway.

[zoeology31]

On Star Wars: The Last Jedi

So I saw Star Wars last Sunday. Between critics bowing down to it and plenty of people on here mourning it’s train-wreck qualities, I was pretty apprehensive, but I wanted to at least see for myself.

The verdict: Most of the movie is a giant mess and I’m glad J.J. Abrams is coming back for IX, but it does pack a punch in some parts. Once my life gets a little less busy, I’ll probably join the growing number of fans and write a fix-it fic.

Major spoilers below. Seriously, I’m about to spoil pretty much everything.

I get that this movie was trying to comment on the hardships of war and how people have to keep their priorities straight and make sacrifices, but did they have to kill so many people? The bombers, all the X-wing pilots except for Poe, the Resistance leadership, everyone who wasn't on the main Resistance cruiser, half the transport vessels, and half the skimmer pilots? None of those were even a fair fight, because they couldn’t fire back. It was just slaughter, and it got painful to watch after a while. The deaths that had the most meaning were the individuals who directly chose to sacrifice their lives for the rebellion: Paige, Holdo, and Luke.

Speaking of fair fights, where were my iconic Star Wars battles? The only fighter-to-fighter combat was at the very beginning and ended with the bombers destroyed and Poe demoted. Rey spent more time fighting Luke than the actual main bad guys, and while her tag-team with Kylo Ren against the guards was cool, I couldn’t really enjoy it because I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. And of course Luke’s battle with Kylo Ren, while awesome, doesn’t really count.

A lot of moments felt unnecessary, if not extremely uncomfortable, and took away from the story, including: Rose electrocuting Finn (she could’ve just waved the taser in front of his face and let him explain the tracking situation, with the same overall result), the porgs, the pointless alien nuns, Luke milking the alien seal slug thing, Luke’s comment about Jakku being “pretty much nowhere”, Luke slapping Rey with a leaf, shirtless Kylo Ren in high-waisted pants, 90% of the shots of Kylo Ren looking sad, Rose and Finn (again) getting electrocuted for a parking violation, that opera alien at Canto Bight that looked like someone’s fetish, BB-9E, 75% of DJ, Hux slapping Finn with no consequence, BB-8 driving the AT-ST, Leia slapping Poe, Holdo saying “Godspeed”, Holdo stroking Poe’s face, that thing with Rey and the time dilation in the cave, Yoda’s weirdly corporeal Force ghost, the golden dice from the Falcon, Poe saying “you’re not dead”, that one dude tasting the salt on Crait, Rose kissing Finn, and the awkward introduction between Poe and Rey (weren’t they introduced at the end of TFA?).

What happened to the Force in this movie? The whole Force bond idea felt incredibly shoehorned, and since we don’t find out that Snoke was behind it until much later, we’re expected to believe Rey and Kylo Ren share some “special connection” because plot. It did wind up being pretty cool when Luke used it at the end to trick Kylo Ren, but I’m not clear on why he died immediately afterwards. Was it too draining? Did Kylo Ren running his projection through have a physical effect on him? Did he just voluntarily stop existing? And if Force ghosts can summon lightning, what’s stopping them from intervening further in the world of the living? Why hasn’t Anakin just showed up and killed Kylo Ren? Then of course there’s Leia floating through space despite never demonstrating any abilities beyond emotion sensing before.

Kylo Ren. I am unimpressed with the movie’s repeated attempts to create sympathy for him to the detriment of other characters. Your uncle drawing a lightsaber on you is not in any way an excuse to try to kill him, burn down his temple, and murder all his students who refused to join you. Besides, doesn’t this contradict canon in Bloodline or something? He’s still just as whiny, manipulative, and flat-out evil as in TFA, but now he’s responsible for even more deaths (remember, he fired the shot that blew up the X-wing hangar).

How are we supposed to buy Rey suddenly believing “there’s still good in him” or whatever when Kylo Ren killed her father figure, gravely injured her best friend, tortured her, and is in the process of racking up an even higher body count? TFA Rey is too smart for that, and she would never compromise her new family for the tiniest chance of redeeming a grown man who’s clearly made his choice and whom she owes nothing to. Luke didn’t start trying to redeem Vader until after he learned Vader was his father, what excuse does Rey have? Not only does Rey Nobody make no sense in the context of this movie, it ignores all the parallels and setup of TFA and turns Rey from the rightful Skywalker heir to some random girl who is arbitrarily powerful and arbitrarily the main character.

Because Rian Johnson lives under the delusion that Kylo Ren is somehow the male lead, Finn was forced into an extraneous sideplot and romance that repeated his character arc from TFA. Between getting electrocuted twice, falling into racist stereotypes at the casino, needing Rose to explain everything to him, getting slapped by Space Hitler, and being cheated out of a full-length, emotionally emphasized fight scene against his lifelong oppressor, Finn generally suffers some of the worst treatment of any character in the movie. The casino plot was tedious and its moral felt forced, and the undercover scene aboard the Star Destroyer was disappointingly short and ended in failure. Being sidelined meant Finn wasn’t written as wildly out of character as Rey or Poe, and John Boyega’s acting ensured we still saw the Finn we all know and love, but it was still an incredible disservice to his character.

Even though he got quite bit more screentime, Poe was almost a different character in this movie than in TFA. In the movie, comics, and tie-in novels, he had very clear strengths and flaws: charismatic, selfless, loyal, and an excellent strategist, but too willing to sacrifice himself and not good at thinking long-term. This is all thrown out the window in TLJ, making Poe instead a stereotypical Latino hothead who’s reckless ideas cost dozens of lives and who constantly battles his (white female) superiors. When he mutinies, we’re expected to agree with Holdo and be happy when she lectures him about hope and honorable retreats, but Holdo’s smarmy attitude and refusal to tell Poe the plan makes him seem like the reasonable one. Not only was Poe’s arc a lesson he didn’t need to learn, it was insulting, frustrating to watch, and poorly executed.

The three new characters were unnecessary and stretched the story too thin. DJ was practically useless and his verbal tics were more annoying than quirky. His only role was to show the grey morality of the war, but it would’ve been smoother for Finn to just observe and make his own comments, rather than have DJ and Rose give clunky exposition. Rose was a sweetheart, but her character was completely static and acted more as Finn’s morality pet than an independent person. Her tasering Finn at the start and kissing him at the end was probably supposed to be character development, but both felt forced. Holdo was a terrible leader and difficult to root for until her death scene, which was incredible but would’ve been more impactful with a character we had time to get attached to.

There were some things I liked about the movie. The cinematography was gorgeous when sets were properly lit, especially on Ach-To and Crait, and it had some truly stunning scenes, like Holdo wrecking the First Order fleet, Luke seeing the twin suns on Tatooine, and Rey lifting the rocks for the Resistance. The main cast was as attractive as ever, helped by some top-notch costuming. Despite exchanging zero words, Rey and Finn’s strong relationship was clear as day, and their reunion was fantastic. When Rey swooped in on the Falcon to give the skimmers cover fire and Finn cheered, that was my “I’m watching Star Wars” moment.

Luke’s arc was comparatively decent; he was too surly and irreverent at the beginning, but his criticisms of the old Jedi order made sense and his stand against Kylo Ren was the closest this movie got to iconic. Luke and Leia’s reunion was one of the most emotionally touching moments, and it doesn’t surprise me that Carrie Fisher wrote it. I liked the ending; everyone was together and getting along, the Resistance was safe aboard the Falcon, and Rey literally shut the door in Kylo Ren’s face. Even with the weird sympathy track, it’s clear he won’t be redeemed and it’ll be interesting to see him as the main villain.

[ticklyyuurikatsuki-blog]

Secrets and Lies

Yuuri Katsuki sighed as he shut his eyes to sleep. It was currently 4:14 am and he had been cuddling with Victor since 10:30 pm. He liked to listen to Victor’s breathing to calm himself when he had nights like this. It was steady and calm. It was so easy to just lay and listen to him. Nothing ever seemed to work out easily for him, until Victor. 

Victor was always so considerate and thoughtful with Yuuri’s thoughts and emotions, it was like he could read Yuuri’s mind. Being that close to someone, however, proved somewhat difficult in the secrets department.

Yuuri would never keep any serious secrets from his lover, obviously. But, he had successfully kept one thing away from Victor that he guarded with his life, something he would never want to admit to anyone.

Yuuri Katsuki was devastatingly ticklish. What made it worse was that he liked it. He thought if he ignored it enough, it would simply go away, but lately, it seemed to be popping up at the more inconvenient of times. Yuuri wasn’t sure he could keep it hidden much longer.

He often wondered what it would be like if Victor knew. Would he be into it and tease him like he so desperately craved? or would he be weirded out? He wasn’t about to take that risk. 

Yuuri could feel himself dozing off, finally. He turned in Victor’s arms so his face was snuggled close to his chest. Victor pulled him closer as he moved and Yuuri smiled as he drifted off to sleep.

Yuuri awoke the next morning to Victor gazing lovingly at him. He immediately giggled and hid his face in the pillows.

“Yuuri~ don’t hide from me!” Victor sang and hugged him close.

“Hush, I just woke up,” Yuuri said and wrapped his arms around Victor’s neck. 

“you hush!” Victor giggled and grabbed Yuuri’s hips, causing him to shriek and jump.

Victor looked at him curiously and tilted his head, confused by the smaller man’s sudden outburst. 

“Yuuri?” he asked as Yuuri squirmed and blushed. Why was he so nervous? Victor couldn’t figure it out.

“Did you hurt yourself skating yesterday?” Victor asked and lifted Yuuri’s shirt to look at his midsection.

“I’m not ticklish!” Yuuri shrieked and blushed bright red, his panicky nature getting the best of him.

Victor’s grin twisted into something less adorable, and more sinister.

“Ticklish, you say?” Victor said, slowly drawing closer to the trembling Japanese man. 

Yuuri shook his head and tried to sit up in the bed, trying to escape his ticklish fate.

Victor quickly scooped Yuuri up in his arms and threw him on the bed, straddling his thighs to keep him still.

“Victor, no, please! I’m not ticklish, I’m not, I swear” Yuuri begged and tried to sit up. His nerves already set ablaze with the idea of Victor reducing him to a giggly mess with his long fingers.

“You seem terribly desperate for me not to touch you,” Victor said, “almost like you can’t handle it. Is that it?”

Yuuri shook his head, looking up at Victor with wide eyes.

“I. Am. Not. Ticklish.” Yuuri said, loudly, still trembling from saying the word. 

Victor giggled at his boyfriend, who was clearly lying. He leaned close to Yuuri’s now red ear and whispered.

“Prove it”

At that, Victor started to tickle Yuuri’s belly lightly, evoking quiet gasps and squeaks from the younger man.

“V-Victor!” Yuuri gasped and attempted to cover his midsection with his arms.

“Yes, my not ticklish lover?” Victor teased, moving up to tickle his ribs.

Yuuri snorted and covered his mouth with his hands, refusing to let himself feel the release of laughter his body desperately craved. 

“S-Stop!” Yuuri begged, his resolve crumbling under Victor’s all too skillful digits. Victor seemed to know exactly how to make Yuuri want to scream with laughter.

“Stop? But, you’re not ticklish” Victor said, in a serious tone. Yuuri shook his head, the feelings of Victor’s evil fingers only being amplified by the teasing. 

Victor watched his lover gasp and squirm under him and was dissatisfied with the lack of boisterous laughter coming from Yuuri’s lips.

Victor’s fingers slipped under Yuuri’s shirt and he yelped when his fingers brushed against his hips.

“Oh no, Vict- nononononononono!” Yuuri shrieked as Victor started to tickle his hips and lower belly. Yuuri screamed with laughter as Victor tickled him expertly. He could barely even think, all he could focus on was the unbearable bolts of lightning running through his nerves.

“VIHIHIHICTOR STAHAHAP!” Yuuri begged and shrieked, squirming and trying to dislodge Victor’s finger’s from his hips before he got too… excited.

“Stop what? You aren’t ticklish! You can’t feel my fingers digging into your skin, right?” Victor mused as he focused on Yuuri’s insanely sensitive skin between his hipbones.

Yuuri couldn’t handle this teasing, not now. He was already getting aroused from the tickling, but the teasing sent him over the edge. 

“YOHOHOU DOHOHON’T UNDERSTAHAHAHAHAND! PLEHEHEASE” Yuuri begged and snorted when Victor blew a raspberry on his ribs.

Victor observed Yuuri’s facial expression as he laughs wildly, his hair a mess and his eyes starting to tear. He also notices Yuuri’s knees start to curl in on themselves, his cheeks red and his expression somewhat blissful, which could only mean one thing.

Oh, Victor thought, I understand now

Victor stopped his fingers and gazed down at his panting lover, who whimpered as the tickling slowed to a stop.

“Yuuri~” Victor chimed and smirked, pinning his arms over his head to put him in an even more vulnerable position.

“You haven’t been entirely honest with me, have you?” the older man whispered and Yuuri shivered, blushing and trying to ignore his body’s reaction to this situation.

“I-I don’t know what you’re ta-talking about?”

Victor gave him an unimpressed look and buried his face in Yuuri’s neck to blow a raspberry, which caused a loud shriek and a wonderful mixture of begging and bubbly giggles.

“Alright,” Yuuri gasped, his cheeks red. “I’m ticklish”

“And you like it” Victor added and Yuuri blushed even more. How could Victor tell?

“No, I don’t!” Yuuri objected and Victor grinned, pushing their hips together, causing Yuuri to moan and arch his back.

“S-Stop! I’ll die..” Yuuri gasped and shivered again, his cheeks the darkest Victor’s ever seen them.

“Why? You hate being tickled, right? That.s what you said” Victor taunted and ran his finger down Yuuri’s arm and gently tickled his armpit. Yuuri laughed and arched his back, snorting and shaking his head.

“Fihihihine!!” he shrieked and pulled weakly at his trapped wrists.

“It turns you on, doesn’t it?” Victor whispered and pressed his forehead against Yuuri’s, staring into his eyes and pressing a surprisingly chaste kiss on his lips. 

“Victor,” Yuuri said, his voice cracking and his eyes closing. Victor started to kiss down Yuuri’s neck, causing the smaller man to gasp and moan. 

“Admit it” Victor whispered and smirked upon hearing Yuuri’s small intake of breath.

Yuuri could hardly believe this was happening. How did he let this happen? How could Victor tell?

“Don’t hate me” Yuuri whispered and looked up at Victor.

Victor sat up slightly, looking at his lover with compassionate eyes.

“Hate you? Yuuri, I could never hate you, especially because of this” Victor said, placing small kisses all over Yuuri’s face, taking delight in the red blush spreading all over his face.

Yuuri blushed but grinned happily. Victor really was perfect, wasn’t he?

“I love you,” Yuuri said, soft and genuine. Victor’s heart swelled with feeling. Yuuri really was perfect, wasn’t he?

“I love you, too,” Victor said and grinned, “but, you still lied to me”

Yuuri’s eyes got wide. Oh shit

“V-Victor, I-I’m sorry!” Yuuri shrieked and squirmed a little.

“No, you lied. Now, you face the consequences, which happens to be letting me tickle you to my heart’s content” Victor whispered.

Yuuri’s heart jumped, and so did other parts of him.

“Be nice?” Yuuri whimpers and looks up at Victor, smiling nervously.

“I think we both know that you don’t want that” Victor growled slightly.

Fuck

Yuuri shrieked as Victor dug into the tender skin of his sides and snorted with laughter as he fingers vibrated. How was Victor that good at tickling? Yuuri could feel himself coming closer and closer to his release, and he almost felt embarrassed at how quickly Victor could make him so vulnerable like this. 

“Aww~ poor little Yuuri, too ticklish for his own good. Whatever shall we do with you?” 

“VIHIHIHIHICTOR I’M GOHOHOHONNA DIE” Yuuri yelped and snorted, screaming as Victor discovered the ticklishness of his armpits.

“But, Yuuri, you seem to be so close” Victor teased and rolled his hips atop Yuuri’s.

Yuuri let out a unique sound, he was still screaming with uncontrollable laughter, but moans slipped between them.

“Shame on you, getting so excited so soon” Victor whispered and Yuuri knew he was gone.

Yuuri arched his back to such an extreme extent, that his ass lifted slightly from the bed as he moaned loudly, small giggled mixing in.

As he finished, Yuuri laid back on the bed, his eyes shut and his cheeks painted with a pink blush, his mouth open slightly.

Yuuri looked like he always did after he came, ruffled and breathtaking. Victor watched as his chest heaved and his body trembled. 

“You are unbelievably sensitive,” Victor said and kissed Yuuri’s forehead softly. 

“Sh-Shush” Yuuri breathed, his nerves still crackling with the aftershock of Victor’s merciless tickling. He shuddered and giggled quietly. “You a-almost kihihilled me”

Victor pulled Yuuri close to his chest and Yuuri immediately snuggled close to him. Yuuri was notorious for cuddling after he orgasmed, it was his way. Victor kissed his cheek and smiled.

“I would never!” Victor smiled and Yuuri began to doze off again. “If I killed you, who would I wake up and tickle every morning?”

Yuuri shuddered and pressed his index finger to Victor’s lips, smiling bashfully.

“Watch it with that word, Vitya,” Yuuri giggled.

Victor smirked and kissed the shell of Yuuri’s ear, whispering softly into it.

“You mean tickle? Why can’t I say tickle? Does it make your ticklish self feel extra ticklish?” Victor whispered and Yuuri started to laugh, covering his ears and blushing. 

Victor pulled Yuuri close and kissed him as he laughed. It was a messy kiss, due to Yuuri’s bubbly giggles, but Victor couldn’t help but fall even more in love with the man in front of him.

Yuuri looked up at Victor, his eyes shining with mischief. Victor would be lying if he said he wasn’t obsessed with that look.

“You know what comes next, right?” Yuuri asked and straddled Victor’s thighs as they both sat up.

Victor blushed and held Yuuri’s hips to keep him from falling backward. 

“Next?” Victor asked, and Yuuri nodded, kissing Victor’s cheek sweetly. 

“Now, it’s your turn to get tickled,” Yuuri said, unable to keep from blushing at the word.

Victor’s eyes went wide and he smiled nervously. 

They never made it out of bed that day. By the time they emerged from the room the next day, Victor had a triumphant smirk on his face, and Yuuri’s voice was so raspy, he could barely speak. 

When asked about his voice, Victor wrapped his arm around Yuuri’s waist and responded

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just a tickle in his throat”