#it's pretty easy for him to actually catch a few‚ usually because snow falls as slow as he moves

[dailygooii]

Daily Goo Day 55: Snowflake

[dontfeeltoohot]

Would honestly love a continuation of your first fic where they actually go out on a date/beginning of the relationship. Or if you’re going for something shorter I think a sick or allergic Steve would be precious. Just Eddie bringing in patients every few hours and he always comes up from the cafeteria with a cup of tea, a snack, or maybe some antihistamines for his bb

i have a LOT of sick nurse Steve requests, so here's something to hold you over!

XXX

Not entirely sure how Robin's roped him into night shift with her and Nancy for overtime; taking a whole day off away from him, Steve trudges into the ED freezing and exhausted. December in Hawkins has brought ice and slush and eventual snow, and, along with it, a pretty nasty strain of the flu. Even with the flu shot every year, the nurse still manages to catch it without fail sometime between November and January.

Navy scrubs on and a long sleeve grey thermal underneath, he heads to the nurses lounge, trailing his best friend. Steve's ninety percent sure he's got a fever, his body is aching, his throat's sore and he thinks if he closes his eyes for more than ten seconds he'll be out for the rest of the night. Rubbing his face as he dumps his bag into the assigned locker he's got, Steve goes to the coffee pot and grabs a disposable cup, pouring some into it and pouring creamer after. Fuck he's tired even just doing such a simple task.

"You sure you'll be ok tonight?" Robin looks at him with a furrowed brow.

He's aware he looks just as bad as he feels. His complexion is pale, his cheeks are slowly getting more and more red. That, combined with slightly dull eyes and an overall air of sickness, there's not really any way to deny he's sick.

"I'll be fine, Robin, just...hopefully it'll be a good night." The word 'quiet' is on the tip of his tongue but he refrains- anyone in the medical world knows not to say 'quiet' because all it will do is jinx the situation and make it forty times worse. Steve sighs and rubs his face, taking a sip of the coffee, wincing as it hurts his throat.

An hour into their 7pm-7am shift, Steve gets a silver lining through all the crap he's dealing with- Eddie Munson.

The paramedic walks in with his partner, both handling the stretcher, Chrissy at the head and Eddie at the foot. The teenager lying on his side seems to be in a great amount of pain. Steve's first instinct is to get up for intake but remembers Robin had volunteered earlier so he could mostly sit unless absolutely needed aside from rounds. He watches the long haired man pat the patients arm and then start walking towards him, Chrissy moving the stretcher into room 3.

"Well well, didn't expect to see my two favorite nurses here tonight," Eddie beams, and it makes Steve feel like of like a bowl of jello...or maybe that's because he's sick.

"Yeah, we took some overtime," Steve explains, wincing at how raspy his voice sounds.

Eddie must hear it too, because suddenly his bright smile falls, and his big brown doe eyes look Steve up and down.

"You sick, Harrington?"

"Uhh, just a little," the twenty six year old mumbles, feeling suddenly self-conscious. Sometimes he forgets Eddie and Chrissy work full twenty four hour shifts- hell, sometimes Eddie will do a 36 hour just to get overtime.

"A little?" Robin snorts, rolling her eyes when she walks back over, signing things on the iPad Chrissy is holding out. "Try a lot, Steve. You kind of look like a zombie."

"Hey! I do-"

"A very cute, nurse zombie," Eddie butts in, laughing. His aw furls fall into his face and he brushes them away lazily. "But seriously man, you look pretty sick. Take it easy tonight."

The way Eddie's voice drops a little quieter than usual makes Steve's heart clench. God he's got the stupidest crush on Eddie and he's never going to have a chance, not when Chrissy is right there, and they're both so beautiful. No, Eddie and Chrissy are obviously a thing, and it sucks. Brain hazy with fever, he looks between the two and huffs, coughing into his arm.

"We'll see you later," Chrissy informs, when Eddie's radio crackles to life again.

Around 11:30 PM, as Steve is finishing up making his rounds to check on the seven patient's they've currently got, an outstretched arm stops him. The arm in question has numerous random tattoo's all over it- Steve spots a few flowers, a jack'o'lantern, a heart with a dagger. Looking up finally, he's face to face with Eddie, who looks concerned. A hand goes to Steve's forehead.

"You weren't kidding princess, you should have called out, definitely have a fever."

Steve continues just to look up, eyes wide as he stares at Eddie unashamedly.

"Earth to Steve?"

Blinking, the nurse clears his throat and rubs his face.

"Sorry, I uh...zoned out." The hand on his forehead was nice, but Eddie's already dropped it now, looking far too worried for his own good.

"Yeah, seems like it. How're you feeling?"

"Like shit," Steve admits, knowing he can't pass it off anymore. Eddie looks genuinely concerned, and for once, the other doesn't feel like a burden.

"Alright killer, how about you ask the RN if you can take a ten minute break? I'll get you some tea from the cafeteria and maybe a muffin....you probably need some sugar."

"Tea sounds kind of nice," Steve admits, shivering. His cheeks feel too warm when he rubs his face.

"Alright, go at least sit down, I'll be back in five."

[woos-lil-oreo]

Love Scene

Pairing: Song Min Gi x Female! Reader

Word Count: approximately 3.1k words

Warnings: Slight Voyeurism???, Mentions of alcohol consumption, cursing/swearing, biting, spitting, Reader is a slight pillow princess, UNPROTECTED SEX (plastic wrap your peenie weenies), oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, slight use of pet names... I think that's it.

Author's Note: Most of this is a BIG self-indulgence XD and that Mingi gif always get me going... AnYwAyS, This fic is NSFW!!!! If you are uncomfy, do not read! If I miss anything, please tell me. If you wanna join the taglist, send me an ask and let me know. Don't steal... all that ✨ jazz ✨ music. Drink your water and enjoy my dirty lil harlots 😉

Taglist: @shusan @woowommy @ceopjy @joongsprincess @yunhofingers

Intro and Masterlist ✨

This is the happiest day of your life. You are dolled up in a beautiful snow-white dress decorated in speckled sequins and intricate rhinestone designs.

Your makeup is simple yet glamourous with a simple natural smoky eye with a shimmer in the inner corners. There is this aural glow of happiness around you, and you genuinely feel like a princess.

You are standing in front of your handsome fiancée with your hands holding each other, who is decked out in a simple black suit with a white dress shirt accented with a deep royal blue tie and shiny black Oxfords.

Hongjoong’s friend, Maddox, recites the point in the script where the vows would be repeated by you and your soon to be husband.

The vows. A spiritual binding of words that will connect the two of you until the end of eternity… or until you two get tired of each other, whichever comes first.

As you repeat after Maddox, Mingi’s eyes glisten with tears of joy. As much as he willed himself not to, one little miscreant of a tear dared to fall. You drop one of your hands to go wipe the tear stream off of his cheek.

The guests proceed to awe in adoration. Seonghwa fans his eyes to prevent his tears from falling, while Hongjoong is sporting a runny nose and a giant crocodile tear down his cheek, clinging to Seonghwa’s shoulder.

As you listen to Mingi recite his vows, tears start to well up in your eyes. You grip Mingi’s hand a little tighter to calm yourself because your makeup is beautifully done, and you’d be damned if you let a teardrop and a dried tear stain appear on your cheek. Jae-hee would have your ass. You got through the ceremony without tears!

“By the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.” Maddox proclaims. You turn to Mingi, who now has one of the brightest smiles ever on his face, and he leaves a nice, sweet, lingering peck on your lips, still holding your hands.

“Oh, come on, you can do better than that!” Wooyoung screams out, earning himself a nice smack to the forehead from Yeosang. Wooyoung winces and rubs the spot while the guests laugh at their interaction and turn back to you when Mingi lets go of your hand and smirks.

Mingi pulls you to his chest, grabs you by the waist – pulling you close to him – and kisses you. As the kiss gets deeper, he places his hand on your cheek – steadying your head, and your hands work their way to the back of his head.

The crowd begins to root the two of you on, and Jae-hee screams out, “You guys are literally about to get a room!” You both pull away from each other and look at your husband. Mingi has a very thin layer of shimmer lip gloss on his mouth, and his cheeks and the tips of his ears are red.

A now very flustered and blushy boi Maddox quickly recollects himself from what he just witnessed and mutters, “They don’t pay me enough,” with a chuckle before he announces, loud and proud, “I-I now present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Song Min Gi!”

Everyone stands up from their seats and creates a round of applause as the newlywed couple leads the processional to the area where the wedding party, which is beautifully attired in soft peach pink dresses and deep royal sapphire blue accented suits, is to take pictures of one of the most important days you will never forget.

~25 minutes later~

The host has completed the introductions for the most chaotic wedding party that has ever existed, and everyone is getting to their seats in the venue.

The reception hall is absolutely stunning! The same colors of the wedding party are accented with gold. Diamonds are loosely scattered across the table, tealight candles alit floating in water vases, giving the room a soft glow in addition to the dimmed lighting.

The caterers are dressed in a clean white shirt, a black vest, and slacks. The guys have a royal blue sleeve garter, and the girls a soft peach one.

Once everyone has settled at their tables, Jae-hee and Yunho approach the front of the makeshift stage to make their toasts as Maid of Honor and Best Man.

Jae-hee grabs the microphone first, and she is already tearing up, and she is usually not one for emotion often. “Y/N, we have been friends for so long… we are practically sisters. I’ve watched you grow into a beautiful and confident woman… and even though I put you through some shit….” All of ATEEZ shakes their head and groan in agreement, and the rest of the guests laugh in response.

Jae-hee rolls her eyes and continues. “I’m so happy that you have found the love of your life and that I wasn’t the first to get married.” You roll your eyes and get up to hug her, and she meets you halfway. While in her embrace, she whispers, “I love you, baby girl,” and you respond with the same hushed tone, “I love you, too,” letting one measly tear run.

You two kiss each other’s cheek, and you return to your seat, and Jae-hee returns to the stage. She grabs Yunho’s handkerchief to dab away her tears before they fall through mascara. “Mingi, I officially welcome you into the messy integration that is our family.” Mingi chuckles and nods in response.

The mic is passed to Yunho. “Mingi, you have grown into an immaculate young man who is decorated with accomplishments and people who love you. I’m really proud of you, and I wish you two the best of luck. Y/N, I have watched you become each other’s yin and yang. You may be a bit of a handful,” you roll your eyes and chuckle. “… But we love you so much, and we welcome you into our quote – end quote ‘messy integration that is our family.’” Yunho walks over to give you a kiss on the cheek, and bro hugs Mingi.

“Cheers!” After an emotional toast from Hongjoong and Seonghwa, it was time for the party to begin, and I mean both aspects of the term. Which explains why you are now seated in a chair in the middle of the dance floor. Mingi is standing across from you with a slightly evil glint in his eye.

Hope You Do by Chris Brown blares through the speakers in the venue. You immediately cover your warm cheeks with your hands to conceal the blush and warmth there, knowing what is to come. Mingi starts to remove his suit jacket… and Yeosang, Yunho, and surprisingly, Jongho remove their coats as well.

As the trio wines and grinds on the floor behind the Groom, Mingi moves closer towards you to go and remove your garter.

When he reaches you, he does not even take the time to bunch up your dress and goes straight into hunting for the garter. His big hands rub around the top of your knees to find it.

When he does, he drops his hands to the floor to give himself leverage. He proceeds to leave a speckled trail of kisses up your leg and bites right below the garter, causing you to yelp in surprise and the crowd to holler out.

Mingi drags the garter down your leg to your ankle and removes it from your foot. At this point, there is a tension between you two that begs and pleads to be relieved.

Mingi stands to his feet, grabbing your hands to guide you straight up off the chair. You two make eye contact, and you can see the tension. “Alright young bachelorettes, come out to the floor and catch you a bouquet!” The host says in the mic, and all the women move to the floor, ready to start drinking, the actual after-party, and the real fun.

When all participants are on the floor, you pretend to throw the bouquet to keep them on edge. After a few false turns, you finally throw, and Jae-hee sprints to the front to catch it effortlessly.

“Yeahhh bitches, I’m next to get married!!!” She jumps up and down as you laugh and the other ladies leave the floor.

The host announces that it is the fellas’ turn to come out on the floor. It was not as many males as females, but there was a good amount present. Mingi played the same card as you: pretending to throw the garter until he did.

In an ironic twist of events, Jongho caught it on the top of his head like a flower crown. When he patted his head to confirm he sort of caught it, he made eye contact with Jae-hee.

They both quickly look away with a bright pink flush on their cheeks, which causes you and Mingi to laugh together. He wraps his arms across your shoulder blades and squeezes your shoulder. You look at him questioningly, and he nods to the door. You nod and grab his hand, running to the back door with your husband.

Seonghwa will have your ass for running out and leaving him and Hongjoong to clean up your mess, but that is a tomorrow problem, and you have more… pressing matters to deal with.

Mingi is flying down the street with you in the back seat to compensate room for your dress. As he tries to get to your home without getting a ticket, you untie his tie and proceed to rub down his chest, slow and meticulously popping one button after another.

Before you could decorate his neck in pretty little hickeys and love bites, the car jerks to a stop, and he power strides to your door and opens it. He grabs you in his arms bridal style out of the vehicle.

You were surprised at how easy he made that look, especially with all of the extra fluff on your dress. He carries you into the threshold with ease, kissing you as if his life depends on it.

When Mingi blindly finds your room, he puts you down on your feet, spins you around, and begins to unzip your dress. He kisses under your ear and down your neck as your dress pools around your feet. He breaks away to rest his forehead on yours.

“As much I would love to pound you into the mattress right now, I would like for our first time as a married couple to be gentle,” he breathes out. You nod your head, and he slowly turns you around to unclip the black strapless bra, allowing your breasts to drop.

He returns his mouth back to your neck and softly twists your nipple between his fingers, eliciting tingles to run all over your body. As good as the feeling was, you remove Mingi’s hand and spin around to face your husband. You walk backward until the back of your legs hit the mattress and lean back.

MIngi crawls on top of you and slowly kisses you. You can feel the passion and love through it, causing you to shiver. Mingi, once again, pulls away from you to drag your black lace panties down your legs. He throws them across the room and stands from the bed, peeling away the dress shirt you opened in the car.

The shirt drops to the floor, and he begins to unbuckle his belt, dropping it to the floor. The pants come next, along with the boxer briefs, and they pooled around his ankles. You bite your finger and lick your lips with lust-darkened eyes as you are being blessed with this private show.

Mingi returns to your V of your legs and brings your ankle to his mouth, leaving delicate kisses down the inner side of your leg until he reaches the inner thigh, where he leaves a bite – causing you to giggle and squirm a bit.

He lifts himself to where his penis grazes your labia. He rubs the tip along your slit and teases the tip inside of your core. “You ready, baby?” He sticks the reddened tip inside, just to pull it back out, and repeats this a couple times until you are a whining and moaning little mess. He finally pushes his dick past the tip and slowly moves into you, allowing you to feel every vein and ridge of his cock.

You moan in relief and very, very, VERY slight pain due to his girth, and Mingi doesn’t stop until he is at the hilt, meeting you pelvis to pelvis. He doesn’t move for a second, trying to collect himself before he busts in you from the tightness of your honey pot. You shiver as he pants in your neck, leaving goosebumps wherever his warm minty breath hits.

You grind your hips around, signaling that you have adjusted to his size, and he moans out at the action. He begins to pump inside very slowly in and out of you, with his brows scrunched and his bottom lip being bitten.

You hear the squelching noises from his slow pace. When you started getting louder, Mingi moves a bit faster, seeing that you are slowly reaching your orgasm, and frankly, so is he. “Baby, I love you so much,” he mutters like a mantra as he helps you both reach new heights.

You two have made love before, but never to this extent. After every mutter, your heart from knowing that this is the man you will spend the rest of your life with. You place your hand on the back of Mingi’s neck to kiss him, but before your lips could make contact, Mingi stops.

He licks the base of his thumb and places a firm pressure on your clitoris, and then kisses you, his tongue swirling around your own. You two are seeing specks of light under your eyelids from cumming so hard. It may not have been anything degrading, rough or intense in that sense. Still, it was absolutely beautiful joining souls with your lover.

~The Next Morning~

You wake up feeling floaty, like you are lying on a cloud. Your husband is asleep with his arm draped around your waist. As you face Mingi, his features are soft, and it looks like he is in bliss. You place your hand on his cheek and caress the apple.

When you are done admiring your husband, you carefully move his arm to his side to make breakfast. You are successful in not waking Mingi and hop out of bed, still naked from last night’s escapades. “Wow, it feels nice to say that,” you think as you grab your husband’s dress shirt and run to the bathroom to clean Mingi’s cum that has dripped down your leg.

~A few minutes later~

You are now in the kitchen, whipping up some waffle batter. The table is decorated with a nicely plated array of bacon and a bowl of freshly washed and cut fruit. You finish plugging in the waffle iron when your husband wraps his arms around your shoulders and spins you around.

He quickly lifts you on the counter. “Good morning, Mrs. Song.” He says huskily from his morning voice. You try to reply with a greeting, but Mingi catches the words in your mouth. Your lips are smashed together from Mingi’s fervency, and his long and slender fingers start to move down to your hole.

“Oh my goodness, babe. You’re so wet for me.” He teased. You moan out while he rubs your entrance, spreading your slick up and down. “You like this, don’t you?” He asks when he pushes a finger in, causing you to scream in response. “Those weren’t proper words, but I’ll take it.” He responds while adding another finger in and drastically changing his pace. You cry out due to the incredible speed. Mingi looks up at you.

Your head is tilted back, tiny pants coming from your mouth, and hands grabbing the counter as if to ground yourself. Mingi lets a drop of spit fall from his mouth and adds another finger to add more lubrication and bring you closer to climax.

You start to squirm on the counter, which is now soaked in your fluids, and whimper softly. A telltale sign that you are almost there; you just need that one little push. Mingi kneels down to be face to face with your cunt, and he stares at your dripping core as if he was hypnotized by how well you are taking his digits.

A loud moan from you knocks him out of his trance, and he adds one more finger and starts to apply suction on your button. A blinding white light flashes behind your eyelids, and a fuzzy warmth roams all over your body.

You breathe heavily from your high, and Mingi slows his speed, allowing you to ride out your orgasm. He slowly removes his fingers, causing you to whimper from overstimulation, and brings them to your mouth.

You immediately open your mouth to welcome in the appendages and begin to suck them as if your life depends on it. The spit dribbles from your mouth down your chin and along Mingi’s forearm. He gently pulls at your jaw to open your mouth and spits in your mouth.

“Swallow.” He growls, and you do not think twice about disobeying him. He returns to kiss you, mixing your natural taste with your juices and his tongue.

He pulls away, and your fucked out state is adorable: your eyes are dilated from here to Hell, saliva glistening your chin, your cheeks are heavily flushed, and your ass is drenched with your cum.

“If this is what I wake to every morning, I’m not complaining.” Mingi chuckles. “You didn’t even get to have breakfast yet.” You laughed. He looks with an eyebrow raised… “Oh, you meant actual food?” You nod your head.

“As long as I have you, I don’t think I’ll need anything else.” He cheesily says. “Yeah, sure, that’s not what your body will be saying.” You retaliate as you jump off the counter, cringing when you hear your butt peel off the corner from your juices.

Mingi laughs, grabs some paper towels to clean that. When he’s done, he washes his hands and proceeds to help you cook so you two can build the stamina to christen the rest of your home together. Well, christen is not the right word… more like fuck like rabbits until the morning light returns.

~~~~~

And there's the fic ✨ hope you enjoyed the read ✨ leave an ask and say hi or even follow me or reblog if you did

[wonderlustlucas]

home - hwang hyunjin

⇢ prompt “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure.” ⇢ pairing hyunjin x female reader ⇢ word count 2.7k ⇢ genre fluff, kind of angsty? ⇢ warnings insinuated that this takes place during covid & that reader has some case of depression/anxiety i literally wrote her as me so like ⇢ summary In which Hyunjin shows you just how special you are.—college!au ⇢ a/n happy birthday to my love, my comfort, my home

What am I doing here?

Unfortunately, there is no one else to blame but herself for being left without plans on this Friday night. Regretfully so, she instead finds herself alone on the upper level of the business building. Scratch that, the whole building, probably – she’s been here since four, and the few students that were once alongside her left hours ago. Initially here to work on an essay, she now occupies her time bouncing between YouTube, Twitch, and Crunchyroll, watching whatever she is feeling at the moment despite Monday’s deadline looming over her.

Sighing, she looks away from a boring page of YouTube recommendations, stretches her neck, and reaches for her hot chocolate. Well, not hot anymore, she realizes with a wince after taking a sip, struggling to swallow the now cold drink. Gaze flicking to the time on the corner of her laptop, she frowns. 9:43. She considers walking home once it hits ten, the unstirred silence of the building starting to prick up her spine like needles. Home, she thinks with an amused exhale from her nose. A too small, overheated double dorm room that technically is a single now that her roommate has gone online for the rest of the semester. Home.

She wonders, briefly, if anyone were to miss her if she were to go home home. If anyone would even notice, anyway.

She wouldn’t expect them to, honestly. It’s not as if she goes out of her way to hang out with anyone, usually opting to cozy up in her room and pretend she does not see the groupchat blowing up with plans to meet at the dining hall, a study session at the library, a trip to the mall. She loves her friends, really, but can rarely find it in herself to actually participate in said friend activities. Sure, there are some nights she actually leaves the confines of her room to join them, but to be quite frank, she’s glad they have learned to simply stop inviting her. Makes the whole looking for an excuse problem a lot easier.

Besides, who would want to go out on a night like this, anyway?

Just as she has flipped to page fifty-three of The Old Man and the Sea, she looks away in boredom, instead opting to gaze out the window. Focusing past her reflection on the tall glass pane, a warm feeling she can only describe as peace seems to settle over her, watching the snow fall like moonlit glitter across campus. The snowstorm had started light when she first arrived, soft enough she could manage with her hood down, dotting her with only miniature droplets of water. Now, though, the flakes are so large she can focus on one at a time as they fly past, covering the ground with a solid two or three inches at this point. In the distance, she can spot snowplows making their rounds to clear the pathways, the route to the business building already turned slushy blue as salt melts the continuous snow.

She sighs, eyes wide like a child as she represses the urge to go outside and grab a handful of it, maybe fall onto one of the lawns and make a snow angel, stick her tongue out and try to catch one of the large flakes. Tomorrow, maybe, she thinks, looking at her grey sweatpants and deciding walking back with soaked pants in this weather would not be the best idea.

So late into March, she cannot help but chuckle at the number of students complaining about the snow and cold temperature on SnapChat, even her friends having to change their plans. She, on the other hand, finds such last chance snowstorm beautiful; sure, she was ready for spring and eventually a break from school, but watching the snow dancing under the streetlights, choreographed by the gentle wind, she thinks it’s something to hold on to, keep her grounded to reality that albeit the stress and monotony of college, such moments like these still exist.

She jumps at the sound of the front entrance slamming closed.

Who the hell? She frowns, annoyed at whoever decided now was a good time to come inside, subsequently ruining her little moment of serenity. Turning red at the thought of some raunchy couple thinking to spice things up in the presumably empty building, she considers packing her bag and heading out. But no matter which exit, they would still see her, and that would be painstakingly awkward. Maybe she could escape into one of the smaller reservation rooms, or at least make some exaggerated noise so they at least know they’re not alone.

Could just be a janitor, or maybe someone else deciding to shelter somewhere other than their dorm to buckle down and do some work, she thinks. No matter who it is and what their intentions are, her leg is already bouncing a mile a minute having gotten used to having the space to herself.

So caught up on how or when she should take her leave, she does not hear the footsteps coming up the stairs until they’re right behind her. Tensing up, she watches in the window’s reflection as the business building’s second occupant steps up onto the platform and… heads towards her. Panic setting in, she tries to decipher who it is through the blurry reflection but to no avail, heart racing at the thought of a stranger approaching her, one of her friends finding her here on a Friday night, a janitor going to ask her to leave.

She turns her head as soon as they stop beside her.

“Hyunjin?” She blurts, taken aback. This was the last person she expected to be here. Somewhat relieved but heart still beating in her throat, she blinks up at the tall boy to make sure it’s really him, brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you the same thing,” he returns, pulling his mask down below his chin and smiling cheekily at her. “I went to go pick up my food and saw you in the window,” Hyunjin explains, tugging the beanie off his head and shaking his hair out, showering her in the tiny droplets. Wrinkling her nose, she takes notice of the Chipotle bag in his hand and how soaked his coat is.

“Here,” she offers, reaching for the bag. Passing it to her with a grateful smile, Hyunjin unzips his coat and sets it over a chair beside her alongside his beanie, wipes the melted snow and sweat from his eyes, and tries to fix his now mused bangs. “So, what are you doing here?” He asks while doing this, regarding her with an amused glint in his eyes.

“Work,” she sighs. Then, glancing to the screen of her laptop and realizing it’s still the home page of YouTube, she grimaces. “Trying to do work. Not really. Just watching the snow.”

“It’s a lot prettier when you’re inside,” Hyunjin comments, following her gaze to watch the frenzy of snow before taking the bag from her and offering a quiet thanks. “But I meant more why are you here?”

She isn’t quite sure what her relationship with Hyunjin is. Having been one of the many acquaintances she barely made at freshman orientation, he did not seem like the kind of person she expected to still be in her life. She wouldn’t exactly say they were close, but she considers Hyunjin a friend, she thinks. After a good month or two forgetting he existed, she randomly bumped into him at the dining hall, recognizing that unfairly attractive face of his in line for chicken nuggets and immediately falling into conversation. Turns out, he was mutual friends with her lab partner, Kim Seungmin.

She does not see Hyunjin as much as she wishes she did. She had not shared any classes with him in the past three years, and even if her friend group and his overlapped in the slightest, it was not always a given that they both would be able to hang out as much as their closer friends do. Still, there always seems to be a random occasion, such as now, where they bump into one another. Each time is a pleasant surprise, of course, and not just because of his pretty face and wide shoulders, but because he has always seemed to care for her in a way no one else does, and that in itself is enough to have her heart racing every time he comes close.

Not that she has a crush on him or anything, but it definitely is hard trying not to fall in love every time he even so much as smiles at her.

Face heating up in embarrassment at his question, she avoids looking him in the eyes and randomly minimizes the Chrome tab on her laptop. “You know,” she drones on, “just taking it easy for the night.”

Hyunjin hums in agreement, opening the lid of his burrito bowl and stabbing a fork into the layers. Even her mouth waters. “I feel like I never see you,” he contemplates, finally taking a bite. His words surprise her. “Uh, yeah,” she coughs, forcing herself to look away before she gets too enraptured over how beautiful he looks even after trekking through a snowstorm, long hair messy but falling over his face in a way that has her fingers twitching to tuck away. “I usually don’t go out with everyone. Not my scene.”

“Aw,” he coos, “I get that. Sometimes I’m the same way, I just want to relax on the weekends after working so much all week.”

Thank you!, she almost shouts, but bites her tongue. She agrees, but even she does not know why she can’t find it in herself to go out and party with everyone else. She’s just lazy, to put it simply. Nevertheless, his words put her at ease, no longer worried that he might think she’s a loser for staying in every weekend.

“Exactly,” she agrees, “parties are fun, sometimes. But I just prefer laying low. I don’t think my friends like that, though.”

Gaze finding his, her heart does somersaults at the smile he offers. “Nah,” Hyunjin says, confident, “no one thinks that. Everyone has their way of having fun. Honestly, all I’ve ever heard is your friends complaining how they miss you and that you would make going out more fun since you’re so funny.”

“Which is true, by the way,” he adds.

She feels as if she is going to combust. “Oh,” she croaks, throat dry, “um, thank you. That’s sweet of them. And you. I guess I didn’t consider that they miss me when they go out.”

Hyunjin scoffs, raising a brow but finishes chewing before speaking again. “Are you nuts? You’re so fun to be around, of course they’re going to miss you.”

“Okay, stop that,” she laughs, burning from the inside out at his compliments. “Just being honest,” he laughs, opening the bag of his tortilla chips. “Want any?”

She looks at him with wide eyes. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure.”

“Okay,” she huffs out an airy laugh, rolling her chair closer to his. Miscalculating that he was going to move, too, she quite literally feels her blood pressure skyrocket as her knees bump into his. And he doesn’t move. “Here,” moving the bag closer to the edge of the table, Hyunjin glances at her for only a split second before focusing on his bowl again.

Reaching into the bag, she feels emboldened not only by his previous flattery, but his proximity as well, and scrambles to continue the conversation. “Why are you eating Chipotle so late?”

“Pre-birthday celebration. Also, DoorDash took forever,” Hyunjin laughs.

“When’s your birthday?” She asks, munching on a chip.

“In,” he pauses, tapping his phone, “two hours.”

Oh. “What?” She gasps, blinking at him. “What? Why aren’t you out? It’s your birthday weekend and you’re here eating Chipotle?”

“Woah, okay Miss I-Prefer-Laying-Low. Maybe I wanted to chill tonight, since tomorrow I’m going out? Hm?” Hyunjin chuckles at her scowl, pursing his lips. “Okay, yeah, I guess but—”

“No but’s,” he interrupts, the amused glint in his eyes disappearing, “I’m here now, and that’s what matters, right? I’m lucky I saw you in the window.”

“I guess,” she mutters, realizing her heart has not stopped its staccato frenzy since moving closer, “you scared me, by the way. I’ve been here alone for hours and suddenly someone is walking up to me, I think I shit my pants.”

Hyunjin bellows out a laugh, and such an airy sound momentarily leaves her awestruck. Oh, god, she’s in deep. It’s over.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he giggles, battling her hand to reach for a chip. Even the touch of his long fingers against hers has the entire butterfly population roaring to life in her gut. “Look, I made up for it by gifting you chips.”

“True,” she hums, licking residue salt off her fingers before leaning back in her chair to catch a breather. Too much physical contact and emotion for one night.

“What are you doing next weekend?” Hyunjin asks, taking her by surprise. Again. She thinks she is going to faint if she isn’t able to wrap herself around him within the next fifteen seconds.

“Um,” she starts, then remembers her previous idea of going home after this week was over. “I was probably going to go home next Friday.”

“Oh,” is all Hyunjin says, seemingly disappointed. “Why?”

She grits her teeth. Why? Really? “I don’t know,” she shrugs, not even convinced herself, “I’m bored and lonely here. I love everyone here but I miss my friends at home. I might as well be slightly less bored at home.” Hyunjin frowns.

“Okay, what about this,” he starts, leaning close enough she can count his individual eyelashes and nearly smell the flavor of his lip balm, “you go out with us tomorrow night and if you have fun, you hang out with us next weekend, too. Oh, and whenever you want some company, you text me and we’ll come here or somewhere else and do homework together or just chill. How does that sound?”

All she can do is blink at him. Her initial thought is how dare he try negotiating whether I go home or not? But, there it is, again, she realizes. That extra step he takes, the genuine care he shows her, acting like her well-being is his responsibility. “You don’t have to do that, Hyunjin. I don’t want to bother you every time I feel lonely. I’ll be fine.”

“Christ, you’re dense,” rolling his eyes, Hyunjin sets his fork down, wipes his hands on his thighs, and suddenly leans in to hold her face with both hands, “I wouldn’t offer to sit around and do homework with you when you’re in need of a friend if I didn’t want to.”

Her heart is racing so fast she fears he may be able to hear the thud of it against her chest. What he’s saying is starting to sound a lot more than some friend-to-friend comfort, and it’s making her head hurt, especially with his thumbs ever so slightly swiping against her cheeks. At her silence, he starts again.

“Y/N,” he says, voice dropping an octave, “don’t go home. This is your home, too, you just don’t want it to be.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she thinks she is going to say something, but nothing comes out. There is nothing to say. Hyunjin is right, he has read her like an open book, and he’s here to offer his shoulder to lean on. “Okay,” she whispers, “I’ll go out with everyone tomorrow. And I’ll try and stay here for the rest of the semester.”

“That’s my girl,” Hyunjin smiles, leaning closer and pressing a featherlight kiss to her lips. At first, it takes her by surprise. But then it all starts to make sense. The snow makes sense. Her essay makes sense. Being here makes sense. Hyunjin makes sense. His birthday makes sense. She makes sense.

Outside the glass windows, the wind starts to howl, blowing the composed ballet of snow to its final act, covering the pathways and the streetlights and the roof of the business building in perfect white glitter. Inside these windows, she realizes they would notice if she were to go home.

Why would she ever do that when her second home is right here in front of her?

[fancysimpinghere]

Euphories pt.4 (Sykkuno x reader)

Well, hello everyone! I want to deeply apologize for such a long break in posting there. We all know how hard life can sometimes be. But I arrived with a finish of this story and I hope you will like it! Enjoy!

summary: all good things eventually come to the end and insecurities aren't helping. Adult life is hard, so are decisions. Even if mistakes happen, there would be something to do to fix your frienship. And who knows, maybe things would evolve into something deeper and more advanced than simple relation between friends?

It has been two months since your first encounter with this pretty boy. Luckily, your schedule wasn’t that busy in summer months, so you could visit Thomas in his grandfather’s shop at least twice a week. Your friendship was blossoming, you both surprisingly had a very good contact. When you visited the shop, Thomas usually was waiting for you with one of the magic cassettes, but sometimes he was just showing you around. Actually, you found yourself almost working with him, because you were helping him with unpacking new items, organizing things and cleaning. It was very fun for both of you - you could spend more time together and get to know each other. But you had your own job as well, and summer time was slowly ending. You knew that if you want to keep seeing Thomas, you have to bring your friendship to another level and start to meet up outside. Little did you know that he rarely left shop or house. These places were his comfort zone and You didn't want to push him to do something really demanding. You decided to give him some time to get accustomed to your presence in his life and let Sykkuno make this important step. All you could do then was wait and do your best to gain his trust even more than you had already. When holidays ended, you were sad, because that means less free time - and less time spent with Thomas. But you still came to his shop, even if you were tired or had to sacrifice your sleep time. Sometimes you helped his grandfather with some simple chores, made some cookies for them both or just kept him company - you knew that older people seek attention from others and you couldn't say no to him. But to be honest, it was difficult to bring together your new lifestyle with your old one. Of course you liked Sykkuno, and you felt about him a little different than an ordinary friend - you liked him more and this was also not easy. You were afraid that if he found out about your little secret, it would scare him away and you would lose him as a result. Day by day you were trying to shove your feelings away and focus on helping him, but every moment spent with Thomas started to feel like too much for you. You were worried if he noticed small changes in your behaviour, but he seemed fine. Because of that, you started to lose yourself in work - your amount of free time dropped almost to the bare minimum because of afterhours, and even if you had a free day, you were too tired to visit your friend.

On the other hand, Thomas was internally freaking out. In the end of holidays he started to catch feelings for you, but was too afraid to admit it even to himself. He enjoyed your company a little bit too much, and you started to look better than before in his eyes. But he was sure that you are too good to him and you deserve better than a shy boy with nothing to offer. So he was amazed that you still visited him after your work started and spent your precious time with him. He was absolutely affected by your kindness and willingness to help.

He knew that if he wants to keep you even as a friend, he has to do something. You were his only friend and after these months spent together, he couldn't imagine his life without you. So when you started to visit his shop less often, he felt hopeless. Sykkuno was sure that he bored you out of his life because of his strange addiction to video games and antisocial lifestyle. He didn’t know what to do. His low self-esteem was not helping him with putting his thoughts together. After the first two weeks without your visit to his home or shop, he was devastated. Nothing from his special collection of games and films could make him completely happy anymore, because his thoughts were occupied by you. But one day, when he was organizing his special cassettes, a movie caught his eye. When he read the title, an idea sprung to his mind and he was that desperate for your presence, he almost instantly made a decision.

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

You started to feel a bit nostalgic when you were looking through the window at falling snowflakes. It was the first snow of the year, so you were also a little bit excited. But when you were sitting in a small cafe in your town, a cup of hot chocolate in front of you, memories slowly creeping from the back of your head. Memories of sad past months, but also of warm and joyful summer. But the most important thought in your mind was the reason for your presence in the cafe. Your fingers unconsciously wandered on the screen of your phone to once again open a message from your friend Thomas. You had strong remorse for leaving him alone and don't contacting him in almost a month. You didn't know what to expect from today's meeting with him, but you were shocked that he invited you to a public place, where there could be a lot of people. Your line of thinking was cut, when small bells over the door frame rang and someone entered the cafe. You guessed it was your company for today - hood covered his head and his face was covered by black mask, but you were sure that this is your friend, whom you haven't seen for almost 2 long months. You noticed his lack of gloves - his hands were red from the cold temperature outside. He still got snowflakes on his massive hoodie, but they were melting away. Even if you felt a little bit awkward, you felt a strange warmth in your chest at the sight of him. You longed to hear his soft voice and laugh, and your heart squeezed just at the thought of it.

He paused for a while to look for you among other people present at the cafe and his gaze finally met yours. He shyly headed towards you and slowly pulled off his hood and mask, so you could recognize him as you haven't done it already. Even from a distance you could say that he was nervous, his hands were making some awkward movements and his eyes shifted from one person to another, like he was expecting somebody to attack him. Finally he was standing right in front of your table and you felt terribly for leaving him with poor excuses about work. He looked bad, just as you - sleepless nights put their marks on your face and you recognized them on his face too. Before he could say anything, you stood up immediately, and reduced the distance between you two. You looked him deep in the eye and hugged him carefully to not scare him. You didn’t care about other people, because you especially chose a more private area of the cafe, in the corner and a massive part of it was covered by plants. You felt Thomas tensing up after you embraced him, but after a few seconds he relaxed and hugged you back.

- "I'm so sorry, Sykkuno." - whisper left your mouth before you could think about forming a more developed sentence, but these words were only one in your mind right now. - "I missed you so much."

At these words he hugged you tighter and you could swear that he smiled like he always did when he was embarrassed.

- "I missed you too." - he whispered back, straight to your ear. You felt butterflies waking up in your stomach at his closeness and blushed a little.

- "It’s nice to- nice to see you, hm." - he stuttered a little and moved his arms away from you, so you did the same. You both sat down and you looked at his face again. Small blush creeped his cheeks, but it could be from the temperature change. - "I was afraid that you wouldn't have time for… For me."

He looked at you like a lost puppy and you felt awful. But before you could say something, he gave you a very warm and wide smile.

-"But you had and I'm happy about it." - he said and started to look for something in his pockets. - "I know that you are a very hard working person and I wanted to thank you for helping me and my grandfather despite this." - it was the longest sentence you ever heard from him, so you were a little bit speechless, but he looked like he wanted to say something more. However, you felt guilty and you had to apologize to him properly.

- "Thomas, I’m sorry. "- you interrupted before he could continue. - "I'm sorry for non contacting you in days and I know it was wrong. I… I can explain why I did this."

- "You don't have to. "- He answered and his search finished with success, because he placed down something rectangular on the table. - "I asked you for a meeting, because I realized something during the past months. And I can't keep this a secret any more."

He was looking even more nervous now. He hid his hands in the sleeves of his hoodie, because they were trembling a little. You also noticed that his face is clearly and non deniable red almost like a tomato, and he was a little bit hesitant when speaking. You decided to not interrupt him this time, and you also felt nervous. He looked at the window to search for the right words or find the courage, you assumed. But then he suddenly returned his gaze to you.

- "What is it, Thomas?" - you asked softly to encourage him to share his thoughts with you. You decided to use his real name to show you are taking him seriously. Deep in your heart you felt a little spark of hope, but you didn't want to make expectations and then be dissapointed. You watched his movements carefully, your eyes dropping to the item lying before him, and you finally recognized the thing. It was a cassette thanks to which you could know him. Your mouth opened in surprise and when he noticed that, he smiled coyly, but stress was still recognizable on his face.

- "I wanted to tell you for a long time, but… I… I couldn’t find the courage. But now, I decided that I have to do this." - words left his mouth faster than usual, and his eyes nervously watched your reaction. He sighed and blinked a few times. -" You are my best friend, my only friend, but I realized I like you a lot more than that."

You were completely speechless. You didn't even imagine this scenario - it was too perfect to be real, but there you are. Your mind exploded with a sudden wave of joy and happiness, because the dearest person you know just admitted to liking you back. You smiled sincerely to him and he had to notice a spark of joy in your gaze, because he stopped talking and just watched you with his big eyes.

- "Thomas, I like you too. "- you said in answer, honestly looking into his eyes. -" I didn’t know how to tell you, so I distanced myself fro you, because I didn’t want to scare you or… "- you didn’t finish and all of sudden felt embarrassed for your lack of initiative.

- "I thought it would be nice to talk about it in the place where our friendship started. "- he said slowly and carefully moved the cassette on the table towards you. He looked down for a second, then returned your gaze. He looked more determined than before and smiled at you once again. You could look at his smile forever - there was nothing more cuter than his expressions.

- "So…Would you like to accompany me on this journey?" - he asked softly and pulled out his hand to you from the sleeve. He watched your reaction carefully.

- "Yes, I definitely would." - You giggled and blushed a little, but gently grabbed his hand and intertwined your fingers with his.

He tightened his grip on your hand and you both touched the cassette with your other hands. The world started to spin, and even when you started falling down, all you could feel in this moment was falling in love with this cute, lovely boy, soon to be your boyfriend, who held your hand like his life depended on it and laughed at the strange sensation. You couldn't help and joined him, looking forward to experiencing the best adventure - and you were certain that it would be the best, because you had the greatest companion in the whole world.

~fin~

[shadowworks]

Resolutions

Pairing: Hawks X Reader

Warnings: Fluffy, hurt/comfort, mentions of alcohol (consumed at a party!) mentions of height difference, Feels. There’s feels.

Word Count: 1.4k

Song suggestion: New Years Day by Taylor Swift

A/N: A group of us decided to do Secret Santa, and my pick was sweet, @redflannel! I really hope you like it, and you’ll be excited for the new year! 🥺

Thank you @some-kindofgnome for helping brainstorm ideas and reading over everything! Honestly, you’ve been through it all. 🤍 Also, thank you @hisoknen, @present-mel & @pleasantanathema for reading it over towards the end. 🤍

Red, this one’s for you!

New Years Eve.

There’s glitter on the floor when you walk through the party. You hear the muted cheers of laughter from the rooftop, all colleagues from Hawks’ agency watching fireworks bloom across a dark sky. A couple girls walk by, holding pretty shoes by their straps and both lost in their conversation. Your interests are elsewhere. On someone, actually.

The hall trails to a corner office on the right, the door's closed but that doesn’t make you turn around. A soft knock, and a turn of the knob follows right before you step inside. The room is mostly dark, save for a dim desk lamp turned on near the city windows.

“Hawks?” You call out in the dark. Tousled locks of gold tip in your direction, and you’re met with honey eyes staring wide from the high rise window. It’s a surprise, though it looks like you’re welcomed.

“Hey,” he offers gently. His low voice isn't as strong as usual. It’s quiet and solemn...not like him at all.

“Hey,” you greet back, closing the door behind you, “What are you doing in here, babe?”

Hawks made his appearance earlier in the night. He poured himself a glass of champagne, and he wandered between conversations through the crowds like a smooth talker. And yet, when it came to the clock reaching nearly midnight, you noticed his vibrant presence wasn’t among the hazy and drunk crowds.

In truth he likes to go off on his own. You've come to find this out through your months working together, but still. This is different.

“Ah well, gotta catch up on paperwork, you know how it is.” He manages, glimpsing back to the glass. You did. But you know he submitted his paperwork days prior...To prove this, the desk’s clean without a single shred of paper on top, and his computer screen is blank, idle, a dull light painting the keyboard.

You take your time approaching the desk, capturing him in the soft light. He’s in a three piece suit, holes cut in the back for his plush crimson wings. Lovely posture, and he holds a half empty glass of champagne in hand, the other tucked in the pocket of his trousers, and so...effortlessly beautiful. It’s hard not to stare.

“Did I submit the reports wrong the first time?” You ask.

“What?—No! That’s not—” you catch him off guard. It’s not something that happens often, but maybe because it’s you he’s affected more as he stares back startled. But his words bubble in his throat, and he turns shamefully to shield his face, with shoulders hitched slightly.

You tilt your head, attempting a peek at his flustered features and you quietly circle around the lengthy wooden desk. “You sure this isn’t for something else?”

That’s not enough. He still doesn’t answer, instead he holds his stare to the flutter of fallen snow pouring down onto the city.

“Hey, look at me,” you tell him. This time you draw close to his form, extending an arm and taking his champagne glass. He lets it slip from his fingers as you set it down for him on the desk. You glance up, hands finding his cheeks lightly dusted in a blush. You cup them softly, guiding his head to face yours, “What’s going on with you?”

His handsomely marked eyes fall lidded. They search your own, intensely looking for something...The heat between your fingers is soothing, and you feel his calloused hands reach upward to lay across your fingers, stroking your knuckles in a gentle manner with his thumb.

“Shoulda taken it easy on the champagne.”

“We both know that was your first glass.”

You feel Hawks slide your hands from his cheeks, his stubble grazing your skin, only to cradle you around the waist and pull you into his chest at once. You instinctively find your arms wrapping around him. He buries his head into your shoulder, breathing deep, holding you tightly in his arms.

Something you’ve noticed about Hawks is he doesn’t always give you the answer right away. Sometimes it takes patience, and the way he is right now? This is something that’ll have to wait until the morning, when the new year has finally begun. And that’s okay.

“Hawks,” you say, craning your head toward his thickly swept hairs. When he doesn’t move from the embrace, you pause for a moment, just before your voice falls to a whisper.

“Keigo.”

His head slowly lifts, looking back at you longing, with all the love in the gleam of his eyes. He gave you his name some time ago, but the conditions are to keep it a secret. You couldn’t say it in the workplace, or around mixed company. But this is an exception.

The world is looking toward the sparks in the sky, while you’re looking at the sparks in his eyes. The sound of muted shouts come from above again; the countdown ringing from drunken voices.

Ten

Nine

Eight

“How about I take you home?” You gently soothe. You watch his features soften.

Seven

Six

Five

“Only if you stay with me,” Keigo breathes back, amber cologne brushing your nose as he flutters his lips against yours.

Four

Three

Two

“I always will.”

One

Your lips press together and fireworks burst from beyond the glass window, shading you two in a blend of blues, greens, and reds. Your eyes are closed, lost in a tender touch.

Happy New Year!

When you both pull apart, it’s slow and you two are lingering. Peeling your eyes open, you glance at each other through the long, boisterous cheers of celebration.

It’s Hawks who moves first, collecting your hand in his as he leads you out the door of his office. He knows how to leave a party in private, he’s good with fast departures, after all. Only a couple people catch the two of you collecting your winter coats, and he flashes a coy smile with a charming flare.

A little too quickly you feel the crisp air bite your skin as you depart into the harsh cold. You’re grateful Keigo draws you toward him, letting the soft plush of his wings veil you from the oncoming wind. The city is alive with continuous noise poppers, and cheering sounds in the distance. But it’s Keigo’s voice which catches your attention.

“You know,” he starts, his tone smoother than before. But there’s a hint of nerves you can detect, just a little as he goes on, “I’ve been thinking a lot about next year.”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Guess we could call it a New Years Resolution or something, heh, been leading up to it, but…”

“Babe.”

Finally turning towards you face to face, he leans into you, holding you in another tight embrace and dipping his lips down by your nipped ear, “I’m not just asking you to stay the night...I want you to stay with me in the long run. Stay and live with me.”

Your nerves ignite in a tingling shock. It’s not as though the thought hasn’t crossed your mind before. You’ve been together long enough. A few mentions here and there. Still. Still...Your sight begins to blur. You can’t stop the hot streaks of tears wetting your cheeks, and a smile pulls to the corners of your mouth.

“Hawks are you,” you can’t form the words, not at first, straining for a moment to keep your voice steady, “Are you serious?”

“I’m as serious as can be,” his coughing laugh breaks in between, “I know that’s hard to believe, but I can have my moments….So, what do you say?”

You nod your head, hiding your face in the warmth of his pro-hero coat, trimmed in fluffs of white.

Another soft laugh vibrates from his chest, gloved hands gently running up and down your shoulder. “Can’t hear you under there, little dove, you’ll have to speak louder.”

With another nod you manage to lift your head, smiling wider, “I’d like that.”

“We’ll work out the details later. Right now…” Keigo smiles back. Lovingly, softly, “Let’s go home.”

It ended up being the fastest resolution made.

***

I was listening to New Years Day on repeat, and yes it did inspire a few ideas for the fic. Thanks for reading! Happy New Years 💙🎊

[weasleyswizardpleases]

And the Living is Easy (Fred x reader)

Summary: You spend the first night of summer vacation getting into trouble with the Weasleys + Harry and Hermione. Fred x reader. Fluffy mischief mostly, but sex is discussed and implied. 

Warnings/Notes: Light sexual content but not all out smut, alcohol, heights, language. I wrote this to be a stand alone, but I enjoyed it so much that it might become part of a loose series of slice of life-y reader x twins fics set at the burrow over the summer! ps i did not edit this at all after writing it at 2am so. uh

Summer at the Weasley’s is my favorite time of year. After my mother passed, you were tossed around from boarding school to boarding school, relative to relative, never really having a say in where you went, or with whom. But ever since becoming fast friends with Fred and George while repairing brooms for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, you’ve pretty much been considered an honorary Weasley.

You stow your suitcases in the overhead and squeeze into a seat next to Fred and George. Across from you, Ron, Lee, and Harry are packed in. 

“Do you reckon you’ll ever make it out to the burrow, Lee?” asks George pointedly. 

“Yeah, you don’t know what you’re missing out on. Mrs. Weasley’s hotcakes are out of this world.” Harry says.

“And there’s loads of space to play quidditch.” you say.

“And loads of secret spots not even Mum knows about where we can basically do whatever we like.” adds Fred.

“You know my mum will hardly let me out of her sight for a day. Merlin’s sake, she’s practically ass to elbow on me all summer.” Lee says, faking a pout. “Quit ribbing at me, would you? Or I’ll spend the summer in my room coming up with derogatory names to call you on the Quidditch pitch.”

Murmurs of “Come on, we’re only joking.” and “Fine, fine.” fill the packed compartment. You lift your rat Pansy up to the window to show him the scenery.

“Bet you’ve never seen the fine English countryside like this, eh Pansy?” you baby-talk at him, scratching his little noggin.

“You know that thing is never gonna talk back at you, right Y/N?” says Fred, rolling his eyes. 

“You never know. Look what happened to Scabbers.” you say, wiggling you eyebrows. “This rat could also secretly be a creepy little pervert who watches me undress at night.”

“I suppose it isn’t unprecedented in the rat community,” agrees George. Ron scowls in disdain.

“That’s my pet we’re talking about!” he says, causing everyone to burst into laughter.

“Yeah, fine pet he was.” says Harry, grinning.

“I will say, Ron-” Fred begins, clearing his throat. “You’ll never find another like him.” He claps his little brother on the back and stands up, peering down the hallway. “Oi, it’s the trolley, look alive Georgie.” George rises and straightens his coat. The boys have been planning for ages to charm the trolley witch into selling their skiving snackboxes. They run off down the car towards her. You tuck Pansy back into his cage and watch the scenery go by yourself. Before you know it, you’re being shaken awake by Fred and George. 

“C’mon, Dad is waiting!” says George. 

“Got you some chocolate frogs, but that means you owe us one.” says Fred, shoving a wriggling paper bag into your hands. Delighted, you expertly open the bag, catch a frog, and slurp it up before it manages to escape. 

“Tank -ou” you mumble, your mouth still full. Lugging your trunks over to meet Mr. Weasley, you smile with excitement. Every summer with the Weasleys is a blast, but you know this one will start off with a bang because last week Fred absconded with a jug of top shelf mead from Filch’s office. You’d all agreed that you needed it more, since you want to have fun and have no money, while Filch obviously dislikes fun and ostensibly has some amount of money squirreled away from all his groundskeeping or lurking or whatever his job is. 

After greeting Molly, you and the twins bound up to their room- and, when you’re here, your room- pushing and shoving your way up the narrow stairwell. You toss your things down and throw yourself onto a bed, spreading your arms as if making a snow angel. 

“Oh, boys, it is good to be home!” you say, laughing. Fred and George always joke that their mother likes you, Harry, and Hermione better than any of her own actual children, and you love teasing them about it. 

“Speak for yourself, she’s already got that sending-us-to-de-gnome-the-

garden-while-hungover gleam in her eyes,” retorts George good-naturedly.

“And get your shoes off my bed! Mum will have all three of us beating out the rugs if she sees that.” says Fred. You close your eyes and pretend to be asleep, baiting the boys into attempting to push you off the bed. You wind up making such a ruckus roughhousing that Hermione comes in looking concerned, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. You all three pause from your compromised position to look at her, you releasing a vise grip on Fred, George dropping your left leg, which he had been twisting violently.

“When did you get here?” you ask, running to hug her. 

“Just apparated over, my parents would never forgive me if I didn’t at least drop by for dinner before practically moving here for the summer!” she replies, turning to greet the twins. 

“Are you going to be participating in our little soiree tonight, ‘Mione?” asks George, raising an eyebrow. 

“What are you three planning?” she asks sternly, stifling an excited smile.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” you say. 

“But don’t wear white shoes.” warns Fred. Hermione gives you all a funny look before running off to finish her greetings. 

“Where are we going tonight, Freddie?” you ask, looking up at your tall friend. He gives you a cheeky glance.

“Oh, out by the bog. There’s a huge hill between there and the house, so we can make a fire and nobody will see.”

“And there’s a huge stand of trees and a pond between that spot and the neighbors’,” says George. 

“You two have got it all figured out. And you’ve got the firewhiskey! What a night, what a night it shall be.” you say, your voice singsonging as you dance exaggeratedly. 

“Too bad nobody invited any girls.” says Ron from the doorway. He’s been standing in the hallway looking in the mirror for some time now, fussing with his hair.

“What am I, chopped liver?” Ginny shouts from her open door down the hall.

“YOU don’t count!” Ron replies.

“We know you’ve got someone else in mind, little brother.” George says, flicking Ron in the ear. 

“It’s pretty obvious,” Fred agrees.

“You get all flustered when she corrects your grammar,” you say.

“And you let her braid your hair.” says Fred.

“And you-” begins George, but Ron interrupts, his face beet red.

“Shhhh! Buzz off you two, or I’ll start blabbing on about who you’re interested in as well.”

The twins exchange a somewhat threatened glance, but say nothing.

“That’s right, I’m not as dull as you lot like to think, thank you very much. I notice things. So let me alone or I’ll sing like a canary!” Ron finishes, turning back to the mirror for a final glance at his hair before trotting downstairs. 

“You two have crushes?” you demand, turning to stare down the twins. Fred shrugs with his usual attitude but you notice a light blush spreading across each of their cheeks. You swat him across the chest. “Why didn’t you tell me? Who is it? You motherfuckers.” You grab George by the collar. “George, tell me who it is! A crush, my god.” You throw your hands up in the air. They’re being super weird, so you decide to drop the subject. “When you snog every girl and half the boys in the school, between the two of you, you practically hold us all down to tell us the details but now you’ve got a crush and suddenly you’re like a couple of mimes.” You look each of them in the eyes, and both avoid your stare. “Fine! Don’t tell me.” You throw your hands up in mock anger and lead the charge downstairs to begin setting the table for dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~After dinner, you pass the evening playing cards and chatting until Mr. and Mrs. Weasley retire for the night. Then, you’re left with all your friends and Percy, who it has been agreed simply cannot know you’re sneaking out to drink in the woods, because he is a killjoy. Using a previously discussed maneuver, Hermione attempts to trick him into believing that she and Ginny are going to bed, hoping that he will get nervous about being bullied if left alone with you and the twins, and elect to follow them to bed soon after. However, Percy is in an unusually jovial mood, and so Ron and Harry are forced to retreat as well. As a last line of defense, you pretend to fall asleep on George’s shoulder, nuzzling into his sweater. When Percy gets up to go to the bathroom, you dash outside into the moonlit yard, covering your mouth so your giggles don’t give you away. You run to crouch behind the garden shed, doubled over with laughter. 

“I thought he would never stop yapping.”

“God, how are you two related to that bore?”

“We can’t help it.” Fred says, bending to gather rocks from the ground. 

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Watch!” he raises his hand to throw a pebble at Ginny’s window, but you grab his wrist.

“Have you lost the plot? Percy will hear! And probably your mum too, with your aim. I’ve got a better idea,” you say, peeking around the garden shed while gesturing for the boys to stay put. You pop out of the shed with a dusty, rickety broom. 

“Does this thing still work?” you ask.

“Well enough,” says Fred, getting a running start and jumping on the broom. Wobbling a bit, he sails up to Ginny’s window and confers with the girls, then moves on to Ron’s window, where he perches on the sill, one foot dangling out the window.

Beside you, you’re aware of George’s presence beside you in the cool, sticky night.

“Bloody brilliant,” he murmurs, elbowing you gently. “How’d you even know that thing was in there?”

“Lucky guess. I mean, with a family full of Quidditch players, there’s bound to be a broom lying about someplace.” 

Fred jumps down onto the broom and turns a few experimental loop de loops overhead before nearly falling and coming to a shaky landing near your feet. 

“That one belongs on the rubbish heap, honestly,” he says, laughing as he tosses the old thing aside.

“Oh, sure, blame it on the broom,” you tease.

He’s soon followed by Ginny and Hermione on Ginny’s broom. They glide down and come to a halt next to you, stepping down gracefully.

“How are Harry and Ron going to get out? They’d have to go right by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s room, unless Harry has his broom up there with him, but I think I saw it in the foyer.” says Hermione, looking at Fred worriedly.

“Well, err, I told them to climb down,” says Fred earnestly.

“What?!” says Hermione. “They’ll be loud as bison, besides probably breaking their necks.”

“It’s not my fault they’re too dumb to pass their apparation O.W.L.S! They’ll be fine.”

As he finishes his sentence, Ron’s window slides open and Harry’s head pops out. He lowers what appears to be a rope made of sheets and blankets tied together. Hermione’s brow furrows as she watches, helpless, while Ron artlessly slips one leg out the window, before even checking to see that the “rope” is nowhere near long enough to reach the ground. Ginny giggles, biting her lip when she sees Hermione’s distress.

“Do something!” Hermione hisses, nudging her. Ginny groans and soars over to boost Ron onto the back of her broom, going back to do the same for Harry.

“Shite! The firewhiskey,” you whisper, smacking your forehead. Everyone lets out a collective groan, but before you can send someone back up to hunt down the alcohol, Ginny opens her backpack, revealing the gleaming jug. Everyone cheers, but then quickly realizes that loudly cheering may have blown your cover. Fred and George scurry off into the brush and you all follow them down a lightly trod path through the countryside, eventually reaching the open bank of a large, murky pond. This is a spot you’ve never been to before, probably because it’s a fair stretch away from the house, and apparently from any civilization at all. 

Hermione quickly conjures a large fire, creating a pocket of warmth in the chilly night air. You lean against a large rock and shiver when the cool stone brushes the back of your neck. Ginny pulls out the firewhiskey and hands it to Fred, who pops the cork, shouting with glee before knocking back a sip and passing it to George, who passes it to you. The familiar sickly sweet liquid burns your throat and warms your stomach, and you feel your (already barely existent) inhibitions begin melting away.

Before long, Ron suggests that you all play a game, and you run through your options: truth or dare, spin the bottle, a wizarding game you’ve never heard of, and hide and go seek. Hermione refutes hide and go seek on the basis of safety, and Fred refutes spin the bottle on the basis of the fact that four out of six of you are siblings. Not everyone brought their wands, so you can’t play the magic game, and you’re left with truth or dare as the apparent winner, which you were rooting for anyway, because you want to see what you can get the twins to do. It almost makes you wish Percy was here so you could put him in a compromising position, but knowing him, he’d find a way to make walking on hot coals boring. 

“I’ll start, I’ll start!” you volunteer, looking around the circle. “My first victim will beeeee…” you look at Hermione, who cringes nervously, then spin around to point at Harry. “Harry Potter. What will it be, Mr. Potter, truth or dare?” you ask.

Harry shrugs. “Hmm.. I’ll do.. Dare, why not?” he replies. 

“Alright Harry, I dare you tooooo.... Oh, easy. I dare you to smack Ron every time he says something you think is stupid tonight. And be honest, or we’ll smack you,” you say. The twins nod in agreement. 

“That’s not fair! That’s barely a real dare!” protests Ron. You raise an eyebrow at Harry, who turns and gives his friend a good wallop. 

“Alright Harry, your turn.” 

You play for nearly an hour, all the while passing the bottle lazily between you, until everyone’s good and tipsy on the strong liquor. Several good dares are exchanged: Fred is dared to give you a lap dance, which he does with gusto and an uncomfortable amount of eye contact. You dare Ginny to race you across the pond and back, and you both strip down to your skivvies and plunge into the chilly water. Ginny wins, of course, but you just wanted an excuse for a swim. Fred lends you his cloak, patting it onto your shoulders to dry them before you pull your pants back on. George dares Ron to walk back to the house and get food, which he reluctantly agrees to after everyone bullies him into it. By the time he gets back with a basket of pastries and jam, you’ve transitioned to mainly truths, because the well of dares has run dry. 

When it’s Hermione’s turn to ask Fred, she blushingly asks if he’s lost his virginity. 

“What, do you all think I’ve snogged every girl we know without scaring? Have a little faith, please.”

“Clever, but that’s not an answer!” slurs Hermione, pointing at him and grinning. “Have you actually had sex before, or do you just talk a big game?” 

“Well, have you?” you ask, laughing as he tries to bluster out an answer.

“”Course I have. Ask anybody. Everybody must think George and I are the male sluts of the century, the way you people talk.” 

“Still not an answer!” you say, looking at him mischievously. 

“How’s this for an answer, then?” he retorts, pulling you to his waist and kissing you on the lips melodramatically, throwing you up against the rock, practically fucking but for the clothes. What’s probably thirty seconds of kissing at most feels like an hour. Everyone goes “Oooooh!” and when he finally lets you go you’re flabbergasted, but you recover your senses.

“Point taken, then. Alright Freddie, your turn,” you say, straightening your clothes and trying not to look like you enjoyed that. 

“I dare Hermione to let us play hide and seek, for fuck’s sake,” he says, lazily.

“Ugh! I might be drunk but I’m not letting anyone stumble around alone in the pitch black plastered out of your mind. Ask me a real question!” 

“What if we weren’t alone?” Harry asks, looking around. “I mean, we could go in pairs or little groups. Like team hide and seek, basically.”

“I call Fred and George!” you cry, throwing your arms around their sweaty necks. 

“Fine, but please be careful. And everyone should be on a team with at least one person with a wand,” says Hermione, who teams up with Ron. That leaves Harry and Ginny on the last team.

George produces his wand and casts an illumination spell.

“Not it!” You shout, immediately echoed by Ginny. 

“Alright, we’ll count to 50” says Hermione, but Harry and George protest until they finally agree to 3 minutes.

Fred tears off into the woods and you and George follow, bushes thwacking you in the face, vines snagging at your ankles. You break through the brush into a field, panting, and stop for a break. 

“Where are we going?” you ask, looking around. “And where are we?” 

“No idea!” Fred says gleefully. 

“What about over there?” George nods towards a patch of grass and trees down in a glenn. You lope down hill through high grass and crash to a halt in the stand of trees, crouching low. Fred huddles next to you and George clambers clumsily into one of the trees, flattening himself into one of its crooks.

You can feel your stomach churning after your run, but you manage to successfully push down the acrid taste rising in your throat. Above you, you hear George belch, and just manage to slip out of the way as he spits a pitiful glob of vomit to the ground.

“Oi, we’re down here, you lout,” hisses Fred, ducking.

“Look at the state of you,” you drawl, bumping into Fred as you readjust around George’s vomit. He groans from his spot up in the tree and lies back down sleepily. To your surprise, you feel the urge to pull Fred closer rather than pushing him away. The earthy smell of the forest floor calms your stomach, and you find your mind wandering to his lips, his hands on your waist and neck. Buzzing with drunken impulsivity, you wrap your arms around his slender waist and pull him to sit beside you. He looks surprised, but readily slouches against the tree trunk next to you. You can feel his chest rising and falling with each breath. The air is still and cool in that settled way characteristic of the night.

Overhead, you think you can hear George beginning to snore. 

“Freddie-” you begin, but before you can say a word, his lips are on yours, his hands tangled in your hair. You push him down and roll over so that you’re straddling him, gripping his jaw in one hand as you kiss him, hard, then gently. His lips are softer and more relaxed than they were when he kissed you earlier, and his body less certain. There’s no false bravado in him now, and you bite his lip gently, your tongues barely batting together. You reach down to unzip his pants but he pulls back.

“Y/N- I- Look, I may have lied earlier,” he says, his face flush with desire and embarrassment. You look at him quizzically, your drunken mind not connecting all the dots. 

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I haven’t… done this before. I’ve only ever kissed. Although I’ve done quite a lot of that.” he says quietly. You blink.

“Oh. Oh! You total freak. Why go to all that trouble to convince everyone you have?”

“Have you considered that maybe I just wanted to kiss you?”

This shuts you up. He pulls you back down to kiss you again, this time on the cheek, on the forehead, the neck. 

“Don’t do anything you don’t want to do,” you say carefully, brushing a bead of sweat from his forehead. 

“No… no, I’m ready. I want this now,” he says, tugging at your shirt. You pull it off over your head and toss it into the grass, the game of hide and seek forgotten. Let the shirt be a warning flag to any nosy passerby. Fred kisses across your chest. 

“Freddie, we’re drunk,” you remind him, your breathing growing heavier as his tongue flicks across your nipple.

“I want you,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck in between kisses. “I want you, I want you, I want you,” he says. You kiss him in reply, and move again to unzip his pants. You feel his hard member ready to burst out of his jeans, and it sends a thrill through you.

You had considered that you might one day wind up with Fred or George, and honestly, you had figured it would be on some less-than-sober whim like this, but you never really pictured it. You certainly never imagined Fred like this, innocent and tame, hoping for someone else to take the lead.

“Will you show me how?”

“Yes,” you breathe your reply into his mouth.

“Will you go slow?” he asks sweetly, his coy submissiveness sending tremors through your body. 

“Yes. Come closer.”

In the morning, you groggily open your eyes at the sound of birds chirping. You sit up, your head throbbing, and look around. Above you and a few feet to your right, George is sleeping soundly on his belly in the flat convergence of an oak tree’s branches. To your left, shirtless and smeared with dirt, is Fred curled on top of his cloak, also fast asleep. 

“Guess they gave up on finding us,” you mutter, running a hand through your hair to smooth it into place. You remember what happened last night well enough, although some parts are cloudier than others, and you don’t remember deciding to fall asleep at all. You suppose it just happened at some point. Your heart beats faster, wondering if you and Fred will be an item after this, or if he’ll want to keep it quiet, or if you just won’t talk about it. You’re not sure what you want, yet. It’s still purple pre-dawn in the countryside, the sun not quite peeking over the horizon yet.

You know you enjoyed yourself, and you adore Fred- as a friend, certainly. As something more? Maybe. You brush away your anxieties and trust that you’ll settle things when you’re less groggy. Suddenly, it dawns on you that you’ve got to get back to the house before Mr. and Mrs. Weasley wake up and notice your absence. You stand up as though the ground caught fire, kicking at Fred and shouting at George to get down.

You fetch your shirt from a nearby bush, and pluck a twig from Fred’s hair as he looks up, dazed.

“God, my head,” he says, squinting up at you. “What the hell time is it?”

“Never mind that, you’ll have worse than a headache if we don’t get back to the house by like, yesterday.”

“Merlin!” George exclaims, perking up and basically falling from his perch to the ground. Recovering he stands up, taking his surroundings in. “Hold on, what the hell happened to you, Fred? Where’s your shirt?”

“No time for all that, go!” you say, shoving George in the direction you suppose the house is in. You muster as fast a pace as you can and follow him, Fred scrambling to gather his cloak and tee shirt before catching up with you. With George’s back to both of you, you exchange a goofy grin and a wave of relief runs through you. He obviously doesn’t consider last night a mistake, either. You slip your hand into his and make your way into the breaking dawn.

[chalkrevelations]

SO. Back to the beginning, Episode 1 of Word of Honor. This is likely to be a little bit different experience than the prior posts, when I was watching the eps as they aired, compared to now approaching the show as whole and complete. May be rummaging around for things I missed the first time through, stuff that takes on new meaning set in additional context – we’ll see how it goes.

With that in mind, spoilers for not just this ep but possibly for the entire series. Get out of the car now and come back later, if you haven’t seen all 36.5 eps and want to watch it unspoiled.

First thing to strike me, right up front: You know, I think we tend to lose sight in later parts of the show – when we’re getting Laopo!Zhou Zishu pouting so he doesn’t have to cook dinner - how terrifying ZZS is in his own right (and by “we,” I actually mean the show, too). One of the things the first few episodes gets right, I think, is the sense of eerie inevitability and dread created by both the falling lanterns of Tian Chuang and the blowing paper figures of the Ghost Valley, and how similar they are. I think it’s easy to lose that - when the lanterns and the paper figures are gone and our charming and adorable couple are busy being charming and adorable at each other, in between varying rounds of being wracked by guilt and PTSD – easy to lose that this is there too, part of them – both of them - under the skin. I think it’s particularly easy to lose that for ZZS, when he’s already done a lot of work, off-screen, pre-Episode 1, during the 18 months he was putting in those first six Nails, to come to some kind of equilibrium, and meanwhile we watch Wen Kexing’s entire torturous process play out on-screen. Wen Kexing’s story is one of reaching an equilibrium, but Zhou Zishu’s story is one of maintaining it, which I think may be less showy, but is equally valuable, just as I value the Four Seasons Manor arc, especially, for giving us a vibe of two adults comfortable in an already intimate relationship, as opposed to the veritable sea of will-they-won’t-they tug-of-war coming-together-for-the-first-time-as-emotional-AND-plot climax relationships that we’re usually awash in.

Anyway, straight up we’re introduced to an assassin who, we discover, doesn’t like to get blood on himself. It looks like metaphorical blood is fine, just not actual blood, but then we discover, well, maybe he’s not as OK with metaphorical blood as he schools himself to look. Also that conversation with Li Jingan about her dad having to die because he’s a traitor to the country – I now wonder how much of that particular conversation Zhou Zishu mentally brings to the table in later conversations about his own father being executed for the same reason. Also, wait wait wait. Zhou Zishu tells Jingan that he took Jiuxiao’s body back to Four Seasons Manor and buried him next to their shifu, but I don’t remember seeing another grave there, other than Qin Huaizhang’s and his wife’s. Script inconsistency, or are you supposed to be lying, ZZS? I mean, would you be so downcast at the state of Four Seasons Manor when you arrive with your husband and son for your honeymoon, if you’d actually been there only a couple of years before? It didn’t fall to pieces overnight. Also, HAIRPIN FORESHADOWING ALERT. Our first sign of how important the hairpin is, the way ZZS’s impassive face cracks wide open when he sees the hairpin that Jiuxiao made and realizes he must have given it to Jingan. Clearly important!

Mmm. Here’s a point for the “Prince Jin is a f’kn asshole” list – Prince Jin wants ZZS to deal with Bi Changfeng personally when Bi Changfeng requests to leave Tian Chuang. And OK, ZZS is the leader of Tian Chuang. But you’re never going to convince me Prince Jin wants ZZS to deal with it personally because Prince Jin is actually so very furious that Bi Changfeng made a mistake. You will never convince me this isn’t a … it’s not even a test of loyalty, at this point, because Prince Jin has no reason to think yet that ZZS is anything other than the faithful hunting dog on a leash that he’s been, lo, these many years. Putting ZZS in a position where not only is he losing the last of the direct disciples of Four Seasons Manor, but he’s being asked to (as good as) kill him with his own hands - it’s just cruelty for the proof of your power and influence over someone. Also, given Prince Jin’s later diatribe about how everyone leaves him OMG (have you considered it’s your personality?) (But also Beiyuan! I know who you are now, and yeah, I would have let Wu Xi bride-kidnap me away from this jerk, too), I have to wonder if Prince Jin isn’t trying to make ZZS feel exactly as isolated as he, himself, feels, as part of his overall desire to make sure that ZZS has no one other than Prince Jin so that their positions are parallel – only having each other in the whole world. I also have to wonder if he’s not hoping for precisely the reaction ZZS has to Bi Changfeng – you’d rather be dead than be with me? Because that hurts, you can see it on ZZS’s face (thanks already, Zhang Zhehan), and I rather suspect Prince Jin wants it to hurt. I notice we get an echo of this later in the ep, with Prince Jin saying pretty much the same thing when ZZS asks for the final Nail. GOOD. I hope it hurts you just as much. I wonder if ZZS realizes this while he’s kneeling there in the throne room. It’s probably too late for him to get any satisfaction out of it.

OH, HEY. That’s HAN YING already, one of the two people accompanying ZZS to put down Bi Changfeng, looking super-pained like he knows what this is all costing his beloved. Han Ying, I really hope you got to tap that at least a few times before ZZS made his break for it. Is that one of the reasons Prince Jin seems to have such antipathy for you, or is it really just that he can’t stand the idea of someone whose loyalty to ZZS is greater than their loyalty to Prince Jin, himself? (Seriously, y’all, why is there not much much more Han Ying/ZZS fic?) Meanwhile Duan Pengju, omg, this asshole, is already looking smug and punchable. Really, he’s kind of enjoying the Seven Nails placement a little too much. Showing your hand pretty fast on the petty evil thing, show.

So, one thing I didn’t catch the first time around, is that ZZS isn’t just self-injuring to punish himself when he takes the knife to his chest – he re-opens wounds on all the places where the first six Nails have already been placed, so it will look like the placement is fresh. If you can’t tell he hasn’t just put them in, there’s no reason for anyone else (read: Prince Jin) to suspect he’s bought himself some time before he loses his senses. As far as anyone knows, he’s going to fall over with locked-in syndrome any day now. Which just makes the implications of Prince Jin vowing that he’s only letting him go for now EVEN ICKIER. For all Prince Jin knows, what he’s going to get back is a flesh doll that will just lie there, although I guess on the plus side, ZZS would never leave him again. Thanks, show, I need a shower, now.

ZZS says all the right things to argue his case to Prince Jin – he’s only good as a weapon, he has no skills nor utility for building and governing the country – and I think partly this is because he just knows the right things to say. I mean, you don’t become the Number Two guy in the country, with thousands under you and only one above you, if you can’t play imperial politics. But I also wonder if deep down he doesn’t actually believe it – he was successful at building Tian Chuang, but he couldn’t maintain Four Seasons Manor and even drove it to ruin. So, I’ll just be over here, clutching my chest, over my heart. Fortunately, Zhang Zhehan provides quick distraction from this pain, and I … Y’all. I can’t. I just. I CANNOT. When ZZS drops to his knees and starts stripping in the throne room. Just. Mmmmmrgh. THIS VISUAL. Although, you want to know what one of the hottest parts actually is? That pair of leather bracers hitting the floor on top of his belt, and ZZS isn’t even in the shot at that point. OK, fine, I am willing to read some dirtybadwrong fic with this whole scene premise at its heart, even if it does include Prince Jin. Zhang Zhehan, you are KILLING ME. I might have rewound this part. More than once. You can’t prove anything.

Aaaand then we get that gorgeous, painful shot of ZZS riding out into the snow that I know I’ve talked about before (including the way I get an odd echo of Lan Xichen off of it). There are several places in this ep where the cinematography is to die for, and this is one of them, the bleakness of the landscape and Zhang Zhehan (and his FACE) deep in that shadowing cloak against the stark snow as he rides out into freedom and the unknown. Then cut to somewhere green and forested. Interesting that the show starts with snow and ends with snow. That parallel with the imperial cage says some things about immortality that could stand to be unpacked – but later. Because ZZS is putting his face on – literally – and I am once again in pain, only it’s not the good kind of pain. It’s caused by that dreadful fake facial hair. There are some things that could be unpacked here, as well, about the fact that making ZZS supposedly unattractive involves a clearly fake goatee, a single aesthetically placed scar, and darkening his skin. I’m going to try to step carefully here, because this is kind of out of my lane, but it is … a noticeable thing. That probably ought to be noted.

So, ZZS takes just a moment to turn his (fake) face up to the sun and feel the warmth on it … and then with 10 minutes left, we’re on our way to Ghost Valley, where there’s some chaos and then Hanging Ghost gets got by a Mysterious Stranger To Be Revealed Later, who chokes him out (remember this). The Mysterious Master of Ghost Valley appears dramatically on his High Ledge to Make Some Pronouncements while playing with some walnuts omg (rolling two of them in one hand – remember this), and we see his eyes, which are partially obscured by chunky sidebangs, which are farther forward on his forehead than we’re going to see later, not only hiding some of his face but making it look more angular. The troops get berated, shit rolls downhill, and another dude gets choked (remember this) as Ghost Valley Master’s hair continues to artfully hide most of his face and he worries about his manicure post-kill (remember this). War is declared on Hanging Ghost for stealing the Glazed Armor, and more chaos is set into motion.

All of that takes literally two minutes, and then we cut to three months later, and no one realizes it yet, but the fam is getting together. ZZS is tits out in the gutter - only beginning his career of being a minx who flashes his collarbones an awful lot for someone who has Very Secret Scars He’s Hiding On His Chest - happily drinking himself to death in the sun (we really need to talk about this correlation of snow and immortality vs. sun and happiness …). Meanwhile, slo-mo shot of Wen Kexing looking precious and perfect, with delicate pink lips and dove-grey robes, as he checks out the rough trade in the gutter. Oh, the expectations this show is getting ready to smash. We cut from a shot of pristine precious WKX to ZZS holding up his hand, and we get a shot of the sun through ZZS’s fingers looking an awful lot like some shots of characters halo’d in light that we’ll get back to much much later in the show. Chengling appears out of nowhere to be Best Boy. A-Xiang is purple and smol and ready to brawl, and I already love her. I already love them all!  So much! Here are my delicate and precious feelings, show, go ahead and stomp all over them!

[forthehpfanboys]

I’m Sorry

Pair: Ron Weasley x Reader; he/him.

Summary: You hate Ron, Ron hates you. Pretty simple. It only becomes complicated when the bloke says something about your cologne in Potions class.

Warnings: Swearing, insults, fighting.

Notes: Requested! Probably my favorite so far? I don't own the gif, I just couldn't find it in the suggestions-

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

-

The rule of thumb that everyone in Gryffindor gets along is far from true when it comes to you and Ronald Bilius Weasley. You guys clashed harder than the titanic and that iceberg. Honestly, no one remembered how it started, but they could remember the insults thrown back and forth. You didn’t exactly hide your hatred for the red-head and he was the same.

The two of you would fight deep into the night, effectively keeping up the whole tower with your insults and burns ringing in the empty common room. When fellow Gryffindors saw you two starting to get in a heated argument, most fled to avoid the damage. Sometimes it came to blows, leading to Fred and George or Hermione and Harry splitting you two apart, but it was mostly the older twins. 

You two don’t even remember why you hate each other, at this point, you just do. At least, that’s what you told yourself every time you caught yourself staring at him from across the library or when you’d shove into him in the hallway. His smile was softer than freshly fallen snow and his eyes could rival the ocean with their beauty. You had absolutely no clue he was battling the same feelings. 

Ron wished you would smile sweetly at him instead of sneering insults that made him want to hex you into next Tuesday. He wanted to hold your hand instead of get hit by it, but he figured this was best. He did start this. He was the one that turned cold toward you on the train one random year to avoid his feelings for you.

Today was one of the tenser days where you and Ron were inches from ending each other's blood lines. Everyone in the tower could already feel it and you weren’t even in the same room yet. You’d woken up a little bit later than usual all because of your Scream Off™ with the short Weasley the night before. You walked down the stairs of the boys dormitory, your hand running through your messy hair. Insults from the night before rang in your head like a bell.

“What did I do to deserve being trapped with the human embodiment of ginger ale?”

“Since when do you know things? I thought your brain was filled with cobwebs and moth balls?”

“We both know your face looks prettier after my fist has kissed it.”

It made your stomach twist with guilt, but the guilt melted into pure hatred when a cocky voice rang through the common room. You wanted to knock his lights out before your foot even hit the last step of the staircase.

“Finally awake, eh, (L/n)? Only took forever, lazy arse.” Ron was snickering on the main couch right in front of the fireplace. The atmosphere in the common room immediately shifted. You rolled your eyes as you walked up to the couch, standing right behind him.

“Shut it, Weasley.” You grabbed his hair, forcing his head back to look at your glare. “I hope you fall off a broom during Quidditch today.” Your voice was laced with a false sweetness. Your glare shifted to a dark smirk before jerking his head forward. After letting go of his hair, you walked past him, flipping him off. “Good morning Granger. Have a good game, Potter!” You smiled and waved goodbye after they said good morning and a quick thanks. 

You got along perfectly with 2/3 of the Golden Trio. They were always polite to you, even if you would throw hands at their best friend. They didn’t play favorites though, which was nice. If one of you started the fight, they’d make it known when they broke it up.

“Oi! Don’t be a basta-!” Ron stood up quickly, going to run after you as you left, but was stopped by Harry’s hand pulling him back down onto the couch. “Ronald! Not today, please!” Hermione spoke up, rubbing her temples. “We already have to deal with Slughorn. I’d rather not also have to deal with your pathetic excuse for flirting.” She sighed out. Poor girl already had a headache and it wasn’t even 10 oclock.

Ron crossed his arms over his chest, his face heating up some. He cringed at the mere thought of finding you romantically attractive… Ok, he would admit you did have a nice ass, but not out loud. 

“I’m not flirting. I hate his guts, Mione.” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

“I’m serious! How could anyone find that twat even remotely attractive or adorable? He’s the bloody worst!”

Harry and Hermione shared a look before turning back to Ron. Harry and Hermione both knew better than that, this was a classic Enimies-To-Lovers scenario, at least that’s what they hoped, if not.. This was going to be a long, long, long year.

“No one said anything about him being adorable OR attractive, Ron.” 

“Sod off, Harry, I know it was implied. You both know what I mean anyway.” Ron stood up, heading for the portrait hole.

“Where are you going?” Hermione groaned out. Her headache just got worse. “To get payback for the hairs that git ripped out.” 

-

Ron walked down the hallways of the castle. He was so determined to find you he skipped breakfast, leading the remaining additions of the Golden Trio to come hunt him down. With some help from the older Weasley Twins, they managed to catch up with him pretty easily. Getting him to go to class, however, was a lot harder. Ron looked between his friends, then his brothers standing behind them for reinforcement. The keeper wasn’t moving an inch, not without seeing you first.

“No.”

“Ronald-”

“No, don’t Ronald me!”

“Ron! Come on! We have to go to potions in less than 5 minutes!”

“No! I’m just going to end up sitting next to that git and his stupid attitude the entire class! It’s going to be worse torture than seeing Snape everyday.” Ron crossed his arms over his chest. “Besides, my fist has a date with his lips and I’m not going anywhere until that date happens!”

“He was at breakfast, you missed him. You can fight him after potions. Can we go to class now?” Harry tried to reason with the hot-headed idiot, but alas, nothing is ever that easy. He groaned when Ron shook his head no, causing the twins to step into the picture. If anyone could get him to go somewhere, it was them.

“Wow, Hermione, you're right.” Fred started, turning to his twin.

“He’s got it bad and he doesn’t even know it yet.” George finished, while Fred shook his head in dismay and muttered a quick ‘shame’.

“I do not, nor will I ever, like him. Ok? Get that into your thick skulls!” 

“No one believes you, Ickle Ronniekins! In fact, most of Gryffindor Tower has a bet that you two will end up shagging in some broom closet in less than a week!” George stated while he rested his arm on his brother's shoulder.

“What?!” Ron’s face was turning pink again. “No! Ew!” Ron faked a few gags. “No! That would never happen!” 

“Hey, if you don’t want him, can I have him? I’d love to see how he’d look on his kne-” 

“OK! I’LL GO TO CLASS IF YOU SHUT UP-” Ron didn’t hesitate to cover his ears or turn briskly on his heels. The red-head hurried in the direction he came from, his two classmates following after him who both called out a thank you to the mischief masters. “Godric, why’d you ask them for help? Now I have that gross image in my head.” 

“We both knew it’d be the only way to get you to Potions. Now hurry up! I’d rather not be late!” Hermione grabbed her friends wrists and dragged them down the intermixing hallways until they stood right outside the classroom, only then did she let go. Harry handed Ron his potions textbook while Hermione patted down her hair and walked in, trying to act like she didn’t just sprint across the school. 

The two boys looked at each other, one rolling his eyes while the other snickered before walking in after her. The snickering red-head paused when he walked in, getting hit with a strong smell of mixed berries and fruit, almost like shampoo. He actually didn’t hate it, in fact, it made his heart beat a little faster. It was familiar. The idea had Ron lagging behind his friends. 

Once he joined the crowd in the back of the classroom and stood beside his friend at the edge of the crowd, did he notice the scent almost shift. It was your cologne. It made him gag with how powerful it was. Godric, did you pour an entire bottle of cologne on you? It was literally making him feel sick. He was going to lose every marble he had if someone didn’t open a window for him. 

When Slughorn began talking about today's lesson, it went in one of Ron’s ears only to travel out the other side. Your cologne was close to killing him and everyone was acting like it didn’t exist.

“Do you see (L/n)?” Ron whispered to Harry. 

“He’s across the classroom, Ron, why?” Harry whispered back. The two continued to whisper over Slughorn. They’d end up asking Hermione for help anyway. “Worried about him?” Harry grinned until his friend jabbed him in the side with his elbow.

“No, just wondering so I can rag him on his shit cologne.” Ron made eye contact with you across the classroom. He stuck his tongue out when you discretely gave him the bird. “I’m so gonna beat his ass.”

“What? Ron, what cologne?”

“You can’t smell it?” 

Harry was about to answer when he got interrupted by Slughorn abruptly asking everyone to take their seats and start the project. Neither of them noticed that pack of girls staring longingly at the bubbling cauldrons in front of them while they took their seats next to each other. 

See, the thing that sucked the most about this is Slughorn was determined to make you and Ron basically best friends, so he stuck you at the Golden Trio’s table for the whole year, which led to more trouble than good. Luckily, he paired you up with Harry and Ron with Hermione so you didn’t ruin each other's faces or potions. However, today, the bickering began before you sat down. 

“How’s your head feeling, Weasley?” You smirked, walking over with your brown side bag.

“How’s your shin feeling, (L/n)?” Before you could question what he meant, he kicked your leg before sitting down. You let out a grunt and sat down in your own seat before rubbing your now sore and most likely bruised leg. 

“I can’t wait for this class to end so I can rip out more of your stupid ginger hair, Ginger Ale.” You pulled out your textbook and flipping to the page. 

“Don’t bloody call me that, besides, why not just use that horrid cologne as pepper spray. With how much you wore today, it’s already doing the job for you.” Ron scowled at you from across the table, but his demeanor shifted ever so slightly when you dropped your quill and looked at him with wide eyes. He blinked a few times before looking around the room then behind him. “What?”

“Red, I.. You smell my cologne?” Your voice was filled to the brim with turmoil.

“So what if I do?” Ron’s face scrunched up with confusion. 

“Have you heard of a potion called Amortentia?” You spoke up, covering your rapidly heating up face. 

“A-amor- What?”

“Look, Red. Long story short, it’s a love potion. It’s strong enough to change love to obsession. It emits a smell that’s different for everyone and mimics the smell of your crush.” You looked at him between your fingers, seeing his confusion still so clear on his face.

“Ok.” Ron snorted. “What does that have to do with your shitty cheap cologne?” 

“Weasley, mate, I know the cogs in your brain are super rusty, but just try to use ‘em ok?” You slammed your hands against the table as you spoke. “I’m not wearing my cologne today. I ran out last night. Slughorn had an open cauldron filled with Amortentia in class today.” 

“S.. So what your saying is-” Ron’s brain was trying to process everything you’d said. He was still refusing to believe he loved, liked or tolerated you.

“You fancy me, you idiot.” You spoke up, louder than you intended.

Ron stared at you with wide eyes. His pale cheeks turned red, out of anger or embarrassment he wasn’t sure. He looked between Hermione and Harry before looking back at you.

“What? No I don’t. That’s ridiculous, borderline mental!”

“Then why did you smell my cologne?” You questioned, leaning over the table some. Ron went back to glaring at you, his arms crossing over the table.

“Probably because you're lying about having none.”

“Ok, say I was lying, Harry would smell it, yeah?”

“Yeah and I don’t smell anything besides the potions brewing.” Harry shrugged while Ron’s jaw dropped.

“Harry! Don’t encourage him!” Ron slammed his book shut, drawing more attention to the bickering table.

“I’m not encouraging anyone. Just being honest.”

“No, you know what? This is a load of bollocks! I do not like you, (L/n). In fact, I loathe you!” Ron stood up quickly, his stool tumbling to the ground with a bang. “I feel anything, literally anything except affection for you!” 

You watched Ron storm out of the classroom and looked down at the table. You ignored the students and Slughorn staring at your table and, instead, focused on your bruised knuckles. Were you supposed to tell Ron you smelled his own stupid cologne, broom polish from Quidditch, chocolate frogs and hits of firework ash? 

Before you knew it, you were running out of the classroom, ignoring the calls of your name. You spotted a glance of him rounding the corner and sprinted after it. 

“Ron!” You called out, rounding the same corner. He turned around, his eyes narrowed. This was the first time he heard you say his first name and he wasn’t going to let his shock show through.

“What? Here to make fun of me? Well, go on. You’ll end up doing it anyway tonight. Don’t hold back now.” Ron’s hands balled up into fists. 

“I’m not going to make fun of yo-”

“Yeah, and my hair isn’t red. Don’t bloody lie to me!”

“I’m being serio-”

“No, you aren’t!”

“Ok, you know what?” You stepped forward, grabbing a bunch of his shirt and slamming his back into a wall. He raised his fist to throw a punch, but your free hand caught his wrist. Before he could do anything else, your lips slammed against his. 

He froze against the wall, his skull filling with emptiness at the feeling of your soft lips against his chapped ones. He couldn't stop the questions tumbling through his lips when you separated. He managed to stop when you pressed your forehead against his.  The red-head didn’t have to strain his ears to hear your whisper in the empty hallway but shuddered when your hand threaded through his hair, gently massaging where you pulled earlier.

“I’m sorry..” You pulled back a tiny bit to look into his blue eyes, only now noticing the green flecks twinkling like stars in the night sky. “Does it still hurt?” Your voice was so soft it made his heart ache. He would’ve shaken his head, but didn’t want you to pull your hand away.

“No, it never really hurt.” Ron confessed, his shaky hands awkwardly landing on your waist.

“But you said-”

“I said a lot of things I didn’t mean..” Ron chewed on his bottom lip, his eyes dropping to your sneakers.

“Yeah, so did I.” You whispered awkwardly, just staring at the red-head against the wall. It was a good few minutes before you spoke up again. “Broom polish, earth and chocolate frogs..”

“What?” 

“The um- the love potion.. That’s what I.. That’s what I got from it.” 

“I’m co-”

“Ron, please. I smelled your cologne, the stupid sweets and your broom polish. Idiot.” You chuckled a little.

“Well excuse me, I haven't gotten my brain cogs oiled yet.” Ron smiled a little, desperate to hear more of your laugh. He mentally fist pumped the air when you did, in fact, laugh louder. “Seriously, though, I’m sorry.”

“So am I, Red.” 

“Soooo..” Ron dragged out the o as he tapped his fingers along your waist. He gave you a lopsided grin as he continued. ”Should we go on a date or kiss more?” 

“Why not both?” You leaned in again, stopping just before his lips.

“I like both.. We could go swimming in the Black Lake?” The pale boy grinned wider as his fingers tugged your shirt free from your trousers.

“Ron, it’s like 10 degrees outside- you just wanna see me shirtless!” You pecked his lips, chuckling when he faked a gasp, his hands now resting under your shirt..

“That is entirely not true, (L/n)! Where is your sense of adventure?”

“Not here, Weasley. I might’ve left it in the classroom, ya know, with my books since I had to chase your ass out here.”

“I’ll make it up to you.” It was Ron’s turn to kiss you.

“We have a lot to make to each other already. Let's just start at the basics.”

[watermelonlipstick]

Dreams, Chapter 11

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 11

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2616

Summary: Another dream makes things more clear for the reader and less clear for Sam.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, s l o w  b u r n

           The booths are those plastic-coated pressboard swoops that are so easy to clean, one row down either side of the long room once you walk past the counter to order. Like other pizza places, there are red pepper flakes and grated parmesan on the table, but they also keep ranch dressing in a minifridge behind the counter as a concession to Midwestern sensibilities. You know you’re just outside Dayton just like you know the pizza shop is run by a family, father and two older teenage daughters deftly throwing dough and scattering cheese evenly over it in a way that shows their years of practice. Dean sits across the table with his elbows on it, one forefinger and thumb picking through a plate of nachos between you. His black t-shirt, amulet, and lack of flannel make you notice the hum of the air conditioner in the background, straining over the 90’s alternative radio and reminding you that you’d been here in a heat stroke the summer after you and Dean had gotten together, his golden freckles and lightened tips of his slightly messy hair underlining the memory.

           “They don’t serve nachos here.” It’s half statement and half question.

           “Babe, it’s your dream. They’ll serve whatever you want. Does the pizza suck in Wisconsin or something?”

           The two sisters are whispering to each other as they look over at your table, an almost-argument that ends with who you suspect is the older sister poofing a pinch of flour into the other’s face. They’re both cute girls but she’s adorable, soft cherubic cheeks and messy bun piling impossibly glossy hair on her head as she walks over to the table with a gigantic pizza. “Can I get you anything else?” she asks in a perfect welcoming cheerleader pitch.

           “I think we’re good for now, sweetheart,” Dean purrs with a wink. That you remember; you’d playfully chastised Dean for dazzling the teens, laughing in his face when he’d said it wasn’t on purpose, that he couldn’t help it if chicks dug him. The wink had proved your point then and now it makes the girl’s cheeks flush red.

           She catches herself remarkably well, the stammer almost slipping under the radar as she assures you that you can “holler if you need anything!”

           Dean brushes his fingers free of nacho debris and loosens a piece of pizza from the melting cheese of the ones next to it. “Last time you had all kinds of sweet nothings and questions for me and now you’re Silent Cal?”

           “I don’t think this is real, but I’m pretty sure if I push it you’ll either die in this dream or I’ll wake up, so my plan is to stay here as long as we can.”

           He drops the pizza back into the box and wipes off his fingers on a napkin before slouching into the booth, arm stretched across its length. “So test me then. Gimme a question only I would know or something.”

           “Well if I ask you something that I know the answer to, my brain will just project you knowing it. See the problem?”

           Dean squints and pouts in consideration, touch of a smile dancing across his face and if it isn’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen may you be struck dead right now. “Then ask me something you don’t know the answer to.”

           You think about explaining how that too could just be some part of your subconscious recreation of Dean but you don’t want to keep pulling at loose strings in the event that it wakes you up. It’s too hard to keep from smiling, seeing Dean charming and relaxed like this, and when you grin it makes Dean bite his lip. “What’s something I don’t know the answer to?”

           “Ah, ah—I thought I’m just a hologram, how would I know?”

           “Projection, but okay,” you stall. “Wait, here’s one. Sam said when I first started going on jobs with you guys that you had to have a conversation about staying focused. What was that all about?”

           He runs his tongue along the inside of his lower lip. “Man, why would he tell you that?” he says under his breath, smirking mostly to himself before leaning forward to meet your eyes. “Fine. I’m not even sure that you’re going to remember this. There was a vengeful spirit in Indiana, some like homesteader guy, ring a bell?”

           You have only the vaguest sense of recollection and sort of waggle your head to show it.

           “It was way at the beginning of when you started coming on jobs with us. You and Bobby got into it because he wanted you to bring your own car so you could ditch us if we were ‘acting like cretins’ or some shit like that?”

           That fits the last puzzle piece in for you and makes you chuckle. “He ended up giving me like $250 of mad money in case I needed a new room or a bus ticket, yeah. I remember.”

           “I didn’t know that part but that’s gotta be the same trip. The whole thing was really stupid. Basically we were supposed to have your six but both me and Sammy wanted to carry a shotgun instead of doing that protection spell because it looked cooler. We were arguing about it when the spirit whipped a chunk of the barn’s scaffolding at you and we didn’t catch it in time. You heard it coming and ducked so nothing ended up happening, but it fucking demolished the wall behind you. It was a huge fuckup—thing could’ve taken your head clean off, you know? Sam was so broken up about it he was wasted for like a week solid after we dropped you back off at Bobby’s.”

           “Really? That doesn’t sound like him at all.”

           “I know, usually he does some kind of pouty baby bullshit. But I mean both of us felt really guilty that bitching at each other could’ve taken you out.”

           Dean’s eyes rake over your face, seeming to linger over every inch like he’s going to draw a topographical map of it later by memory. You can tell he’s waiting for you to say something but you can’t think of anything other than tracing each of his freckles where they dust across his nose.

           A hand reaches over the table to run his fingertips along the back of yours, and that certainly feels real enough to send an ache into your gut. “What if you ask Sam? If he says that’s not what happened then you can keep saying I’m not real and you don’t have to listen to me.”

           “But he already basically told me that. The only thing I probably wouldn’t have guessed about that is Sam getting drunk about it—these could’ve been just well-informed guesses about when it probably was or the kinds of things it seemed like he was implying.”

           His lips press into a firm line and the barest touch of pink rises in his cheeks. “We, um, we pinky swore on it.”

           The adorableness of his embarrassment makes you grin teasingly as much as the divulgence does. “A pinky promise? You guys must’ve been pretty serious to take such a sacred oath.”

           He rolls his eyes at your ribbing and throws his hands back in his lap with a defeated smirk. “Laugh it up. Would that be good enough proof for you?”

           It seems like Dean has figured out a loophole in the system, but you’re sure the light of day and Sam’s scrutiny will figure out why it isn’t actual evidence of communication with Dean beyond death, and you tell him that.

           A curtain of suspicious confusion falls over Dean’s face. “Sam being weird about it is what’s keeping you from trusting this? Kid, I’ve been talking to Sa—”

           And you woke up.

           The bed was empty next to you but you could smell something sweet in the air and hear the light clinking of pots or pans Sam was trying his best to keep quiet. You blinked back a few tears of frustration—who even cared if it was real or not? Reliving a great memory with Dean was more than enough and instead of enjoying it you’d wasted a chance at some small respite from your constant ache of grief. And even then, you hadn’t used any of your time to figure out how the whole thing worked, how you could see him again.

           But the most pressing issue was what you thought Dean had been trying to say before disappearing; that he had gotten through to Sam. Sam, of course, deserved to have secrets, but if he had been sitting on the resolution to all the angst you’d been struggling through in the last weeks (months?), you couldn’t imagine a reason why that wouldn’t hurt. Nothing would be solved by laying in your bed to sulk about it, though, so you threw on some clothes and went to brush your teeth.

           When you came out, Sam was hunched slightly, the standard stove highlighting his decidedly non-standard height as he shuffled a pan’s handle. He had a dishtowel over his t-shirt clad shoulder, a habit from the bar that sometimes held over when he was in the kitchen at home, and bare feet under old jeans. They were wearing through at the knees, and you knew they were absolutely pajama-soft from having periodically thrown them in with your own laundry. Through the kitchen window, enough snow-brightened sunlight came into the room to cast him in a halo glow that gleamed off of his hair. As long as it had gotten, chunks still swept into his face as he looked down at the stove, and he tucked one behind his ear as he looked up, half-singing a Buddy Guy song that was playing softly. It was stunning—he was stunning, statuesque and strong and right there in front of you. Cooking you breakfast while you slept in, of all things, chocolate chip pancakes he had to have remembered were your favorite from ages ago. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d had them and right now, nothing in the world sounded better. He beamed and tilted the pan toward you. “Morning! I made pancakes, you want some?”

           And you should’ve just let the moment rest, sat in the rare bright winter morning and eaten chocolate chip pancakes and relished how well the boiler was working, maybe later in the day read a predictable murder mystery or taped off the living room to be painted and listened to REM until your shoulders were sore from running rollers up the walls all afternoon. Instead, about as stupid and weird a flop as if a toad had come out of your mouth, you said, “Have you been talking to Dean too?”

           Sam’s face fell but not in the right way. There was too much angle in his brow and that confirmed it. “What?” he asked, but it didn’t land.

           “How long have you been talking to Dean?”

           He kept that curious smile for a second, like maybe he could push through by playing dumb and you would forget, but finally his lips flattened and his jaw clenched as he stacked a finished pancake on top of its predecessors. “Just because I’m having dreams about him doesn’t mean it’s really him,” he finally answered, softly and as though he was telling the bubbling pancake batter in front of him, unable to meet your eyes.

           You felt the lump forming in your throat and tried to get the words out ahead of its solidifying. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

           “For what?” He let go of the pan and turned toward you, supporting his weight on the countertop. “So we can both—”

           “Both what? Be delusional? Is that what you were going to say?”

           Sam didn’t answer, but the set of his jaw was firm and he kept his eyes locked on yours.

           “He told me you were drunk for a week after the hunt you were talking about.” You watched as Sam’s pupils widened a touch. “And that you didn’t just promise each other to buckle down, you pinky swore.” Sam’s Adam’s apple jumped in his throat. “It’s true, isn’t it? I can see in your face that it is. Did you already know it’s really him?”

           He looked down at the floor and clenched his jaw. “I was pretty sure. Or at least I really hoped I was pretty sure.”

           You felt more than consciously allowed your mouth’s falling open. “How? How long?”

           “It just—I don’t know, it just felt different. I—uh, the first time was after we made those cupcakes; he asked about the cupcakes.”

           You slumped against the countertop opposite him, speechless. He shoved the pan off the hot burner a little too hard, put a palm on either side of the stove to brace himself. The two of you stood like that for a long minute, the smell of chocolate not matching the stiff heaviness in the air at all.

           “I don’t—what if it’s not real?” His throat sounded bound even though you couldn’t see his face, hulking mass of him spread across the tiny kitchen.

           He seemed so defeated, so young, and then you couldn’t believe how selfish you’d been, not putting two and two together that something challenging Sam’s grip on or understanding of reality must shove him back to the brain melting torture he’d endured in the cage and the months—years, maybe, he was always so tight-lipped about it—afterward. What the fuck were you thinking, not seeing it before, how this could seem like a perfectly laid trap for Sam, the most poetic way to whip his mind into stiff peaks of meringue. It made so much sense why he would need time to really suss it out, see the situation from all angles and investigate, check and re-check. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes but you blinked them away. This was not about you or your complicated need for him, it was about Sam, what he’d been through, what he was likely putting himself through even now.

           “The, um, the pancakes smell really good.”

           “Yeah?” There was half a laugh behind his words, humorless as it was. “I hope they’re okay, I know they’re your, uh, your favorite.”

           “I’m surprised you remembered.”

           Sam leaned on one arm to rub his face with his other hand. “Yeah, well.”

           “Can I help?”

           After a beat, he stood up and offered some space next to him on the stove. You worked hip to hip, sprinkling the chocolate chips while Sam flipped. He was scraping the last of the batter into a last little runt pancake with a spatula when you couldn’t help yourself and wrapped your arms around his waist. He seemed surprised, if sad, before setting down the bowl and covering as much of you as he could, folding over you like a protective shell. It reminded you of that dirty motel room, months and months ago, when Sam held you together as you cracked in his arms. All he could do then was be steadfast in reminding you he was still there, if nothing else was, and you hoped you were able to give him the same now.

           You silently laid two place settings on the kitchen counter while Sam set the food out. He sat next to you and had picked up his fork when you touched his wrist to still him. “If it’s not real for you then I’m losing it too.”

           Sam thought for a second, then raised his forearm and kissed the back of your hand where you held onto him before cutting into his pancakes.

-

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 12

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

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[goodlucktai]

I am reading some of your older Natsume Yuujinchou fan fics and I absolutely LOVE them! Can u please write some more about him idk what topic I'm sorry T.T but any good ones u can think of ?

well i was in the MIDST of answering a nishinatsu prompt but my drafts seems to have consumed that ask entirely, so i guess i’ll just write that prompt here instead !

x

“I mean,” Nishimura blurts, “just look at him!”

He gestures with both hands, as if words are failing him. Across the room, Natsume is laughing, shaking off snow and unwinding a borrowed scarf. Tanuma is thanking him profusely for the hot tea he ran to the vending machine outside for; given that Tanuma just returned to school after being out sick for a few days, it makes sense that Natsume and mother-hen Tsuji wanted him to stay put. The whole thing is very mundane and in no way out of the ordinary and Nishimura, for whatever reason, is pissed about it. 

Bemused, Kitamoto settles into what has been his default state since he was three years old and humors his best friend. 

“I’m looking,” he says gamely. “It’s Natsume. He’s wearing a hat.”

“Do not over-simplify this,” Nishimura warns with utmost severity. 

His tone causes Suzuki to glance over from her desk in alarm, but Kitamoto makes Meaningful Eye Contact with her and she glances from him, to Nishimura, and then across the room at Natsume, and out loud says “oh.” Then she gives Kitamoto a pitying expression and returns to her book. Kitamoto wishes it were that easy for him to escape. 

“Okay, sorry,” Kitamoto concedes. “Is there something special about the hat that I’m missing?”

“It’s adorable,” Nishimura hisses with real, actual venom. “It has a pom-pom on the end. What the hell? Who gave him the right?”

It is pretty cute, Kitamoto has to admit. He thinks Taki is the one who got it for him, but he can’t remember, and now he’s certainly not going to mention it. He wouldn’t throw his friend under this bus, not even to spare himself. 

“Right,” he says. He flips a page in his magazine. “Some nerve.”

“I mean it’s bad enough that he’s the most handsome guy in our grade,” his best friend goes on, outwardly seething, “no, scratch that, our school! I mean, already way, way out of my league, and then he has to go and--” 

Kitamoto looks up. The conversation has taken a new, unlikely turn, and with Nishimura, you have to catch these things quick, or he’ll get the idea that he’s allowed to think them. 

“Hey, hold on a second. What’s this about ‘out of your league’?”

“Sorry, I thought you said you were looking,” Nishimura says with enough bitterness to make Kitamoto frown. “It’s Natsume. I don’t have a chance in hell.”

This crush has been a thing for going on a year and a half now. It’s the most open secret in school, because Nishimura is about as subtle as a bullet train and wears his heart on his sleeve-- he always has. But up until this point, Kitamoto had thought all the dithering and nerves was a little bit just because it was kind of fun to like somebody, and nerve-wracking to confess. It’s not as though any of them are gonna vanish any time soon, not with another year until they graduate, and plans to go to university together after that. 

Kitamoto figured that when Nishimura got tired of drawing hearts in his notebook and then screeching when someone asked to borrow his notes, he’d tell Natsume that he’s been in puppy-love with him since about two days after Natsume moved to Hitoyoshi in the first place, and they’d all have a good laugh about how long it took them to get their shit together, and that would be that. 

He never expected to hear something like this out of Nishimura’s mouth. 

It’s the worst thing he’s ever heard out of Nishimura’s mouth.

Kitamoto gets up, so abruptly that his chair screeches back across the linoleum. Nishimura’s head snaps around and he reflexively grabs Kitamoto’s arm. They’ve been inseparable since before they could walk and that means that, generally, they can sort of read each other’s minds. 

Kitamoto wonders if he’ll ever stop being furious with himself that he missed something as big as this. 

“Hey, woah, what are you doing?” Nishimura says. “Why are you mad?”

“I’m mad because my best friend is an actual, honest-to-god idiot,” Kitamoto snaps. “And I’m going to prove you wrong.”

He manages one step in Natsume’s direction, and Nishimura yanks him back into his chair with a super-strength born of absolute terror.

“Don’t you dare! If you love me you’ll stay right here!”

“Of course I love you,” Kitamoto says, whirling on him. “You know I love you.”

For a brief second, he finds himself terrified: what if this is something else he’s missed? What if-- 

But Nishimura rolls his eyes, and his grip on Kitamoto’s arm slides down to his hand, and he tangles their fingers together as easily as if they’re in kindergarten again. This is one thing, it seems, neither of them have ever had to doubt. 

“I know, Acchan. I’m just having a bad day.” Nishimura bites his lip. He looks down, and away. “But... you know what I mean, right? You know that Natsume is-- he’s on another level. You get that, right?”

“He is not better than you,” Kitamoto says, perhaps too loudly. A few classmates glance in their direction. From Nishimura’s nervous twitch, one of them is probably Natusme, but he’s all the way across the room. There’s no way he could have overheard. “He thinks the world of you. You spend every waking minute together. This is the first time I’ve managed to steal you away in like two weeks.”

Nishimura slants a bit of a smile at him. It’s nothing like the megawatt grins he’s usually throwing around, but it’s something. Kitamoto squeezes his hand, refusing to back down. 

“Even if he doesn’t like you back,” Kitamoto says, “he already loves you. And I love you, and so does Taki and Tanuma and Tsuji and Ogata and even Shibata, even though he’d never admit it. I’ll make him if it would make you feel better, though. I still have blackmail.”

And there it is-- a laugh. Nishimura leans back in his chair with it, a loud ha-HA that he muffles in his sleeve, and Kitamoto grins at him. 

“For now, let’s go find Taki,” he says, standing up again. He draws Nishimura up with him by their joined hands. “There’s still a few minutes left before the bell.”

“Sure,” Nishimura says, following along agreeably. “Why do we need Taki?”

“You’ll feel better after you can gossip with her about your hopeless crush,” Kitamoto tells him dryly. “And I’m gonna tell her all that nonsense you said about not being good enough, and she’ll yell at you about how much we love you till you cry, probably.”

Nishimura gasps, the perfect picture of betrayal. He’s back to his overly-animated self and the whole room feels lighter for it. Kitamoto tugs him along, smiling, and waves at their friends as they pass by. 

“I told you that in confidence!” Nishimura shouts. 

“Next time get it in writing.” 

He’s prepared for it when Nishimura throws his full weight against his back in revenge, and manages to haul him up piggy-back style with enough grace that they don’t immediately fall over.

Nishimura wraps one arm around his neck, squeezing too tight for comfort, just to be a brat, but at that point they’re both having fun as they make their ungainly way toward the door. Whatever hurt Nishimura has been holding onto has been left behind for now, and if Kitamoto has his way, it won’t be coming back.  

And behind them, Natsume buries his face in his hands. Tsuji and Tanuma trade a swift, knowing glance over his head, and then reach over to pat him on the shoulder and the arm respectively. 

“I mean,” Natsume mutters, eyes drawn to where Nishimura is crowing with laughter, noisy and charming and the brightest thing in the room, “just look at him.”

[alch3mic]

in between. (drabble series)

chapter five (comfort.)

cheshire!sans x gender neutral reader. 3k+ word count.

please be advised for themes of addiction, drugs, alcohol, self deprecating thoughts and apathetic feelings.

* it’s time for our dear underlust sans, cheshire, to have his turn! if you’d like to check out more about our resident catboy, feel free to check out his tag here on my tumblr!  thank you and i hope you enjoy!

Don't get attached.

That seems like a pretty simple motto to live by, huh?

Well that's because.... it was.

In a world that cared little for anything beyond their momentary value, it was easy to not get attached. Everything changed day by day in this fast paced life. There was always a new video to look at, or a new phone to buy. Always a new trend to jump on or a new topic to talk about. You didn't form attachments to those things, you just used them to pad out your day so you didn't have to think about your meaningless existence, and then you were done with it.

You got rid of it.

Threw it out.

Forgot about it.

It no longer mattered because it no longer entertained you. 

There was always something newer and shinier to look at just around the corner anyways, so.. why would you think twice about it?

Things were just.. easier.. when you didn't get attached...

You.. couldn't feel the pain of being let go.. if there was nothing holding you there in the first place.

.....

A shame he had to learn that the hard way, but that was life.

This world treated it's people like a commodity, always being bought and sold for their looks, money or talents.

Anything else was just worthless.

Filler. 

Like packing peanuts that belonged in the garbage after you stripped a box of its goods.

Nobody cared how you felt.

Your emotions didn't matter in the slightest.

All that really mattered is that you played your part.

You spoke your empty words.

You did your flashy dance.

..You sold your soul.

..And then.. you'd collect your earnings and leave so you could go and buy the newest phone model you had your eye on.

.....

Emotions were.. well.. 

...Worthless.

...Just like they always were..

Just like they had been.. back in his own Underground.

Which is why, on that day.. 

When that realization set into Sans' bones that the surface really was no different..

That it didn't matter what he did..

Or how he felt..

...He swore to himself...

That he'd never get attached.

......

..And that's exactly why...

He could never forgive you.

Because in a world that was ever changing.. 

Day by day...

And always moving forward... 

..How dare you stay the same.

Ah.. dammit!

Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!

It just wasn't fair..!

Just what the hell was wrong with you anyways?

He went to all that stupid trouble to close all those damn doors! 

He boarded up every stupid window and stuffed everything shut as tightly as he could! 

He gathered up all those loose emotions, tied them with a lock and a chain, and then threw them into the basement to never see the damn light of day again!

He even threw away the damn key to it all  and yet...!

..And yet...

Somehow.. someway.. you still..

Weaseled your way right into his soul.

....

It just wasn't fair.

...He hated it.

..Or.. rather.. himself.

Because despite the fact that you were the one who did this, even after his multiple attempts to shove you away.... he could never say he actually hated you.

....

Maybe jokingly but..

No.. he could never actually hate you..

Despite how hard he tried.

  You were just so damn.. persistent.

Not even in the annoying way! You were just..! Always there!

Really..

How dare you.. become someone that meant something to him!

How dare become a pillar of support for him to lean on!

How dare you open your arms to him, offering your gentle words and affirmations to him like he deserved them or something, and letting yourself become such a comfort that he actually sought you out now to help mend these pieces of his broken soul.

....

H-how dare you..

...Always be there for him.

Time and time again you were.. just..! 

There!

You were always there!

Why were you always there!?

Christ, it's like you really had nothing better to do!

What, was he just your entertainment!?

A cute little show!?

Did you just want a front row seat to how much of a mess he really was because you were that bored!? Is that why you were always there!? Is that why you always picked up the phone when he called, no matter the starsdamned hour of the day? Is that why you were always there... no matter how far it was..? ..Rain or shine.. snow, hail or even when the damn wind was blowing nearly everything off its feet you were..

You were.. always..

....

There.

And that was just so damn unforgivable.

.....

There were times when he wished to himself.. that you had always been there.

...Way before.. he became like this.

Maybe he wouldn't have been such a mess if he had you in the first place but..

Life just wasn't fair, now was it?

He wanted to be angry about it still.

To blame you.

But he couldn't.

Really all he had to blame was himself.

He.. betrayed his own promise.

He had sworn to himself on that day that he'd never get attached.. and yet here he was.. more dependent upon you than he had been for anyone else in his life.

..Even to his own brother.. who had really seen him at some real bad lows.

But you..

You saw him at rock bottom.. and yet..

...You were still here...

.....

Really, you were by all accounts, an anomaly. 

An outlier. 

Someone who shouldn't be counted with the rest, because unlike the usual scum of this city.. you were...

Well you certainly weren't a ray of sunshine, that's for sure.

A little stoic and kinda stone faced, which probably worked to your benefit because people seemed to shy away from asking things of you, but..

You were.. different.

Despite the fact that you grew up here in Ebott, a vile city filled to the brim with criminals and thieves who ate people up for breakfast and then spat them out before lunch.. you.. were.. still you.

Calm. 

Insightful.

...Caring.. 

..And... dependable.

....

...And how...

How was he not supposed to get attached to you?

..When you were always there for him..

Like now, as you held him steadily in your arms while he so desperately clung on to you as if you'd run away if he let you go. Of course a part of him was always scared you would because.. why wouldn't you? 

What could someone like you possibly see in someone like him..?

Someone.. shallow and.. terrible with a whole novel's worth of issues.

Not at all good at comforting people. 

Fickle and who practically ran at the first signs of trouble.

If he were you..

Well.. he would've given up on himself a long time ago.

..So.. why did you.. stay..?

.....

He was too scared to ask that question.

Too scared of the answer that may come from your lips, even though those words might just save him...

..Because he was absolutely certain that they'd actually just be the final nail that turns him to dust..

So he pushed the thought far from his mind to the back to die with the rest of his unnecessary feelings. Not that it was hard really, Sans' mind was a bloody fucking mess, clouded by a horrid mixture of alcohol and drugs that had him feeling on top of the world just a measly few hours ago.

Stars.. it really was easy to get lost in that madness wasn't it?

..Into the pleasure and fun that came at the end of a bottle, or at the end of another hit. 

In a way.... it was just like magic.

In an instant, all those troubles that clouded your mind would seem so far away...  

For a while you'd be unburdened by responsibility or society. 

You'd let go of the constraints holding you back, you'd let loose and finally just be free. 

Your mind would let go of it's troubling thoughts..

Of things... and... 

..People...

......

You'd have fun without stress. 

You'd lose yourself to the motions

To movements. 

To the descent.

..To the fall.

Down.

Down.

Down.

Down the rabbit hole you'd go.

....

But with every fall.

Came a landing.

....

Right to the very bottom... and you'd suffer the consequences of your descent.

Now that once hypnotic neon that drew him into this club seemed sickening to his eyesockets, and the smell of smoke mixed with sweat and grease made him want to hurl. He didn't want to hear anymore words spoken by anyone else, much less those so called 'friends' who invited him here in the first place. Their words had long faded away to numbing static in the background now that the intense music was gone. He was sick of their empty flattery and jealous praises anyways, all trying to catch his attention so they could use him as a footstool to higher society. The only reason they invited him here was to get some damn clout for themselves and he was lonely enough to accept the offer because...

For once, you weren't there.

.....

Well you were technically there, because you always told him to call if he ever needed you, you just weren't like... there there!

..And he was feeling sad and...!

You weren't.. well-!

It's just-! He.. just-!

....

He didn't want to...

.....

Ugh.

It didn't matter. 

He was just tired of it now. Tired of those damn pieces of trash..

They deserved to sit in the dumpster where they belong, but he was too fucked up to put them there so instead he just let it become background noise.

He wanted nothing more than to stay right here, in the only place he really felt at ease.

..With you.

So he turned his head away from it all and breathed in deep, a familiar scent washing away the muck that clung to the edges of his mind. It was fresh and a bit misty, like the scent of rain just before it fell with just a small hint of earthiness, and it brought him such a sense of..

..Comfort.

Just... like it always did.

Just like you always did, whenever you were around.

It made him clutch on to you all the tighter as he buried his head further into your shoulder, wanting to be lost in the mellow scents of your coat and the steady rhythmic beating of your heart as you spoke softly to someone else.  

He was just.. 

Tired.

Tired of this, and tired of that.

Really he was tired of everything and just wanted to.. go..

"...home," he slurred, clearly interrupting your conversation with someone but not having the slightest care in the world.

His skull could hardly make sense of what was being said anyways, still washed up in the dizzying effects of alcohol and.. whatever else he took, but he really didn't care.

He wanted to go home.

That's why he had messaged you in the first place.

So you could come pick him up, yet again, and take him back home.

At least.. he hoped that's why you were here.

Who knows, maybe you'd finally come to your senses and would just dunk him in the trash can where he belonged.

"We're heading out in just a second, alright?" you said gently, your words cutting clear through his own thoughts.

.....

He barely turned his head to peek at you, catching the vague shape of your face through the fluorescent neon.

Funny.. how just your tone settled his troubled mind, almost making him feel silly for thinking you'd abandon him. Even if he didn't understand why in the slightest, you clearly cared for him. It came through in the way you spoke, and in the way you held on to him, like he was something precious and worth keeping.

...He just really didn't get it..

So he didn't think about it, instead just squeezing his eyesockets and letting out.. a noise in response. 

..Really it was more like a painful, almost guttural groan, but he didn't want to acknowledge how unattractive it sounded, so a noise it was. 

Thankfully it was enough.

"Just hang tight."

And then you spoke again, but not to him, so he let your voice fall to the side too, the gentle rumblings steadying him as he buried his face back to his usual spot.

For right here, in the small space between your neck and your shoulder was his own personal Wonderland. It was the same place his skull always went, whenever you two were close. The place he buried his face when he cried, or where he turned his head away to escape from it all. He loved to feel the pleasant heat of your skin against his cheek, and let those soft and subtle scents wash over him once more.

He really could just.. get lost in it.

He'd stay there forever, if you'd let him.

And that's exactly why he could never forgive you.

Because.. you did.

Time and time again you gave him that place all to himself, without question or complaint.

You let him come undone in so many ways in that small space, that house he had built for himself and boarded up.. no longer felt like home.

..And the feelings that he had locked away tight..

They were always so close to just.. coming out.

They threatened to spill from his mouth and dirty your jacket with their sullied words.

His admiration.

His respect.

His... love... for you.. 

..And all that you've done.

They danced tantalizingly on the end of his tongue, sometimes escaping in the friendly ‘I love you’s you both shared, or passed through his fingertips when your hands gently brushed, sending shocks to his soul. They seeped into almost every action and he..

Well..

A part of him felt like he was going to just go crazy over it..!

Or maybe.. he always had...

But for every moment he stayed in your presence it lingered..

And it swished and swirled... bubbling at the surface and just threatening to...

Break.. loose..! 

"You doing okay?"

No.

No, he really wasn't doing okay.

Really he wasn't.

The words.. they were...

Slipping...

No...

He was...!

..Going to..!

"....i think i'm going to throw up."

"...Ah."

......

He probably would've been angrier if that wasn't the truth.

The excess magic bubbling in his soul was threatening to rush out thanks to the alcohol, and he certainly didn't want that spilling out of his ribcage so the only other option was out from where it came.

"Can you hold it?"

Ya know, normally that kind of question might've been seen as insensitive given the circumstance, but you very well knew Sans hated throwing up in public areas because it was... well kinda gross.

"..yeah.."

"Then let's go home."

And that was it. 

You looked back to whomever you were speaking to and said your goodbyes before turning and heading out of the club with him in your arms while he tried to cling to you like a koala.

The awful neon was fading away along with the horrid smells, leaving him in just the gentle presence of you..

At least until you opened the door to the outside world the city lights and smells hit him like a fucking truck. He cringed, for even in the late hour the lights were in full shine and cars honked aggressively at each other in the streets. It was overwhelming and only made him retreat farther into arms, trying to escape from it.

Oh great, here comes the nausea again.

He groaned and you thankfully put a bit more pep in your step as you headed into the musky night air, finally reaching your car after what felt like a small eternity.

He had felt the keys already in your hand when you picked him up, and now you carefully tried to unlock the car door while maintaining your hold. It was surely a fairly easy task, considering the two of you had been in this exact position so many times before, and it wasn't long before you opened the door and tried to place him into the passenger seat.

"...You know you gotta let go so we can go home."

".....no."

He could feel your breathy laugh brush past his skull and neck, nearly making him tremble, but he still held on tight.

Sans just didn't want to let you go.

"..Please?"

.........

He.. reluctantly released his grasp, slowly sliding into the seat as he already began missing your warmth. His eyes automatically slipped shut, feeling more relaxed in the familiar space of your car. The passenger side seat was still just how he left it, tilted back just enough so he could nap comfortably.

"Just a sec."

"...mmmhh."

At least it was a more attractive sound this time.

Then he waited.. for what felt like another small eternity, almost tempted to brave the bright world to look at you before he was joined by a pleasant warmth, and the soft scents of rain and earth.

You laid your jacket on him, and he quickly hugged on to it while you busied yourself with buckling him in. Another easy task, as he heard the click of the seatbelt in place, and felt your presence leave him once more. He barely cracking his eyesockets open to catch your gaze, and for the briefest of moments he was greeted by your smile

"Was it fun?"

"...no.."

You let out a snort, shaking your head at his bluntness before standing up closing the door.

One last small eternity later and you opened up the driver side door, seating yourself before buckling yourself in.

"If I remember correctly you didn't have fun the last time you went out with her either, so why go?" you asked, turning the key and starting your car.

There was no judgement in your tone, more like a genuine curiosity. Surely it must've seemed dumb to keep torturing yourself in the presence of people you didn't like.. but..

"i'unno..." he muttered.

He was lonely.

"..jus didn' have anythin' else...since you were gone.."

There was a small pause as he watched your brows furrow, but you kept your gaze ahead as you pulled out of the parking lot and into the busy streets of Ebott.

"Well I did invite you," you reminded him  and he let a small huff.

"i didn' wanna... intrude.. on your.. family... whatever."

"You know my mom wouldn't mind."

"...i know.."

Urgh.

Darn that woman for being almost as equally likeable as you were.

Really.. at first he could hardly believe the two of you were related with how bright and cheerful your mother was compared to your rather indifferent demeanor, but you both had that same tenderness that shone through in the way you cared for people.

...She always made him feel so welcome anytime he came around.

Like family..

....

And yet... 

He didn't want to sully such a happy image with someone like himself.

So instead of joining you for an evening of board games and home cooked meals with your mom, he filled his meaningless life with people who were just as meaningless. He stuffed that empty skull of his with hollow praises, and anything that'd take these vile feelings away.

He didn't deserve this.

He didn't deserve.. you.

He deserved to be used up.

Thrown out.

And forgotten.

..Just like the rest of the people like him..

So... why did you refuse to let him go?

....

Once again he was too scared to ask.

Too scared of the answer he might receive, even if there was a possibility that it could save him. He just wanted to keep holding onto this. On to you, in hopes that you'd still just always be there for him.

Just like.. you always were.

....

He let out another huff, feeling those words threatening to spill forth again as he clutched on to your jacket. His hand wandered over to the same place it always did when he felt like shit but couldn't say it, to the middle console where it waited patiently.

His patience was rewarded, one small eternity later, when he felt your hand gently settle over his.

There was nothing more he could do to keep the words from spilling forth.

"i love you..."

And he meant it, with every fiber of his soul.

"I love you too Sans."

..Not in the same way, he knew, but...

This was still just enough.

Enough to keep him here.

Enough to keep him going, with the hope that maybe some day.. you would really love him too, in the same ways that he loved you.

[cacoetheswriting]

christmas alphabet - spencer reid

a/n: request: this is just fluff, no warnings in place. enjoy!! 

A = After Dark (a date after dark? late night cuddles? surprise mistletoe?)

On cold winter evenings, when Spencer is not travelling for work, the two of you like to cuddle up on the coach under a fluffy blanket. A cup of hot chocolate in hand; with an even number of marshmallows each. The night is either spent discussing both of your days in detail or watching old Christmas classics, like Miracle on 34th Street for example. 

B = Baking (how does baking sweets go? for or with someone?)

The brunette doctor is skilled at literally anything he sets his mind to, but baking is not his forte. The kitchen always ends up a huge mess, and whatever concoction he was attempting is dangerous to eat. However, Spencer enjoys baking with you. Together you make a quite the team and the gingerbread cookies are a big hit with the rest of his team.

C = Cold (it’s cold out! how do they react to the freezing winter air? does someone else help with fighting the cold?)

Spencer enjoys the lower temperatures, they’re a nice contrast to sunny stuffy Las Vegas where he grew up. You on the other hand struggle with the crispy icy air and often find yourself stealing his scarf for extra warmth when you’re out and about. 

D = Date (christmas date! how is it asked? where do they go?)

You ask the brunette agent to go ice-skating with you. Spencer is reluctant at first but you hold onto him tight and any fears wash away. You whirl together around the rink in slow circles, simply enjoying the moment. 

E = Evening Dance (a night at a ball? or maybe just silly dancing in the kitchen?)

Spencer catches you one wintery morning humming along to Blue Christmas by Elvis Presley. He gently takes your hand in his and the two of you slowly sway around the living room.

F = Fireplace (how do they spend their time by the fire? hang stockings? fall asleep on each other?)

The two of you bought stockings with your initials, a lovely red pair with a fuzzy top. Since there is no fireplace at your place Spencer hung them underneath your mounted television. And whenever you feel like cozying up on the coach together you simply turn on a ten-hour fireplace video on YouTube.

G = Grateful (how grateful are they to spend time with others? enjoy being alone or with others?)

The hazel-eyed doctor is extremely grateful to spend time with you, not only over the holidays. While he likes the occasional meet-up with his team for after work drinks at their favourite bar, Spencer definitely prefers spending time with you alone. He's loves comfortable company more than anything.

H = Hosting Family (how does family work? are they invited to others, or stay with their s/o?)

While Spencer would love to spend Christmas with his mom, his unpredictable hours don’t usually allow him to make set plans. Therefore instead you decide that you will spend the holidays with your family, and if by chance he is free to join he will. 

I = Invitation (a sudden invitation comes up! what’s it for? how do they react?)

An invitation arrives for dinner with his team and their loved ones on a faithful Saturday in December. Of course Spencer asks you to accompany him; he wouldn't have it any other way. You’ve met his friends before so you shouldn't be nervous, but yet for some reason you were. This occasion felt different somehow. More intimate. 

J = Just In Time (the present arrives just barely in time! how do they rush up to hand it to them? do they wait for the perfect time?)

Spencer spent weeks trying to decide what to get you for Christmas. Nothing he thought of seemed right. You weren’t a material person, which is one of your many qualities he adored. He wanted your present to be thoughtful, he wanted something meaningful. About a week before the holidays, he came across a website that sold customisable star maps. He ordered one then and there - a map that showcased the stars the night you first met.  

K = Kiss (how do they react to a kiss? flustered? happy? surprised?)

When Spencer first kissed you it was gentle, almost timid. As if he was afraid to fully let himself go. Now when he kisses you he does so with all his might and immense passion. He cups your face with his hands and pulls you in as close as humanly possible. 

L = Lights (christmas lights are important! how do they hang them? around the house? on the tree? outside? what kind of shenanigans go on?)

The brunette agent had given you a key to his apartment. One night in late November he comes home after working a case to find you already there, tangled in a rope of lights. You tried to surprise him by slightly decorating his place for the holidays, but instead found yourself entwined. Spencer can’t help but chuckle at the sight. He sets off to help you; after taking a picture to commemorate this precious moment.

M = Mistletoe (how do they react to suddenly being placed under a mistletoe with their crush/lover?)

He gets flustered at first, mainly because you’re in public and everyone is watching. But the second your lips brush against his the whole world dissolves and he gets completely lost in you. 

N = Naughty or Nice? (how has your character been this past year? are they a trickster or a good of heart?)

Definitely good of heart. Spencer is one of the kindest people you have ever met. He’s caring, he always puts you first and stops at nothing to make you happy. The only time you could describe him as naughty would be in bed.

O = Opening Presents (how do they react to opening presents?)

Eagerly, although very neatly. Even though he is extremely excited to see what you got him, the hazel-eyed doctor rips off the wrapping paper so precisely that it is actually good to reuse.  

P = Packaging (wrapping presents is never easy. how do they fair?)

Packing presents with Spencer is just as organised. All the pieces of the festive wrapping paper are a perfect size for each gif and the ribbon is measured before cut to the correct length; so that there is no waste. 

Q = Question (how do they confess? is it the big question, or something smaller but just as intimate?)

“Y/N?” Spencer catches your attention. You look up from the book in your lap and meet his honey gaze. “Yes?” “How would you feel about spending next years holiday in a cabin somewhere? Just the two of us?” A smile spread across your facial features. “I thought you didn't like to plan that far ahead, especially around Christmas time.” You teased. He smiled back at you. “I don’t, but with you I can break a few of my rules.”  

R = Relaxing (how do they relax with their s/o? the best ways? the cutest?)

Watching Christmas movies, cooking, discussing various topics, or sitting in comfortable silence and reading. Simply enjoying each others company. 

S = Snow (how do they like the snow?)

Spencer likes to share uncommon facts about the snow; more than the weather phenomenon itself. “Snow is actually translucent, not white.” The brunette doctor chimed as the two of you looked out the window admiring the first snowfall of the season. “It’s the light reflected off a snowflake’s faceted surface that creates its white appearance.” 

T = Tree (how do they decorate their tree?)

Gold fairy lights intertwined with a simple white wreathe hung loosely around the Christmas tree at your apartment. Mixed between the more traditional-looking gold bobbles were various fancier ornaments that reminded both of you of your relationship, such as: a stack of books,  R2-D2, fast food items, gin bottle, a coffee cup. 

U = Undying Love (how did they fall in love? what was the real moment they found out?)

Your constant smile and positive outlook on life, not to mention your delicate beauty, lured Spencer in right from the start. He fell for you hard and pretty early into your relationship. And now not a day goes by where he doesn't tell you just how much he loves you.  

V = Villa (how is it in their house? festive? normal? candles?)

Apart from the decorations you had plopped around, the doctors apartment remains normal. The two of you have focused more of your time and energy decorating your place - from the living room to the kitchen and bedroom, there is even a miniature Santa in the bathroom. 

W = Wish (what is their biggest wish for the coming year? or in general?)

Spencers biggest wish for the coming year would be to keep evolving in this relationship with you. He hopes to grow even closer with you, learn more about you and explore the world with you (if he ever gets the time off work). 

X = eXcitement (general excitement about christmas? love it? hate it?)

He’s excited because you’re excited. Seeing you so happy around the holiday season warms his heart and he hopes he’ll get to cherish these moments with you for years to come. 

Y = You (how does their s/o react to them being beautiful? handsome? to them in general in the christmas season? how in love are they?)

The brunette doctor constantly reminds you how perfect you are. Whether you’re dressed up for an evening at the bar with friends or simply sitting on the sofa in a matching wintery pyjama set, Spencer will be sure to point out just how beautiful you look. You of course do the same. There is something about hearing you say how handsome he looks that makes his heart skip a beat. 

Z = Zzzz… (how do they sleep? lots of blankets? none? cuddled closely to their loved one?)

Wrapped up in a large duvet and blankets mainly because you get cold during the night. Spencer’s arm is placed gently yet firmly around you. He holds you close, quietly snoring into the crook of your neck. 

-

masterlist

[hey-there-love]

Foolish

Summary: Being the new kid is hard right? Try moving across the world to attend the elite hero course at U.A. Unfortunately following the path of straight and narrow is difficult when you find a blonde ball of death throwing twists in it. Nobody said it was easy. New experiences, new friends, new interests...what could go wrong?

Chapter 2: Oh You’re Feisty

Content Warnings: Adult Language, Cringy Situations

Word Count: 2.2K

Once you gathered yourself, you opened the door and peaked around, searching for any sign of life. Grateful you were by yourself, you began to search for towels. After they were located, you washed the grime from the long flight away.

Quickly you got dressed, brushed your hair, and began to apply a light coat of mascara. You began to sing to yourself to calm your nerves about meeting your new class mates.

“Are you singing Ariana Grande? I love her!” Someone squealed, rushing into the bathroom. You jumped at the voice and managed to hit your lid with the whole mascara wand. You clutched your chest and whipped your head around.

“Hey look! Twins!” The pink girl cracked a joke. You embarrassingly horse laughed because she wasn’t wrong. She had sweet deep eyes that were black and brown.

“I swear I think I’ll have a heart attack before I even start my classes here.” You shook your head and inspected the damage to your makeup. You ran your finger under the faucet and began to scrub your eyelid making the simple error into a huge smudge. You groaned and glanced back to her with pleading eyes.

“Here,” she began digging into a drawer, pulling out a pack of makeup wipes. “Uraraka usually keeps these in here.”

“I’m assuming you’re Mina, my new neighbor right?” You questioned, thankful as you wiped the makeup off.

“You’d be correct! It’s good to meet you Y/N. I can already tell we’re going to be fast friends. Cute jeans by the way.”

“Thanks! I got these from H&M. I literally bought every color , so if you ever wanna borrow a pair let me know.”

“I’ll definitely take you up on that offer! Are you ready? Dinner is almost done and I figured I’d come check on you.” She responded, taking a seat on the counter top next to you.

“I am. Just let me drop my stuff off in my room.” You said opting to give up on the mascara after your incident. You finished primping and picked your things up.

As you walked back to your room she began to question your previous statement. “Who else gave you a heart attack? You’ve only been here for an hour!”

“Oh, actually I was heading into the bathroom and I guess I wasn’t paying attention and I crashed right into a guy. I felt so bad.” You said, unlocking your room and setting your things down on the desk.

“It was probably Kirishima! He came back downstairs whenever I got up. ” She giggled and leaned against your door frame.

“Well he definitely laughed at me after he pulled my underwear off of my shoulder!” You said slapping yourself in the forehead.

“Oh my gosh!” Mina squealed. “He never said anything so I guess your secret it safe. I hope they were old lady underwear for his sake. He definitely gets flustered easily.”

“He didn’t blush in the least and it was a thong! I don’t even think I could look him in the eye! Wait what does he look like?” You asked examining yourself for a final time and spraying a little bit of body spray.

“Spiked red hair, sharp teeth, the cutest boy wonder smile ever.” She gushed. That definitely wasn’t who you encountered.

“No it wasn’t him then, he had a permanent look of disgust. ” Her eyes grew wide and your face dropped. “What?”

“KATSUKI FREAKING BAKUGO TOUCHED YOUR PANTIES?” She hollered, making your ears ring. You shushed her not wanting to relive the experience.

“Not so loud! I don’t need everyone to know about my underwear!” You cried out , cheeks heating up.

“That’s hilarious. King of Murder and Destruction Bakugo. Laid hands. On. Your. Thong.” You swore she was about fall over laughing.

“Do you think he said anything?” You covered your face, completely and utterly mortified.

“Maybe just Kirishima because they’re best bros, but he despises everyone else so you have nothing to worry about!”

You groaned. “Can we please forget that ever happened and go?” Pleading as you pushed her out the door.

“Sure thing bestie my lips are sealed.” Mina replied, mimicking a zip and locking her mouth. She then looped her arm through yours and made you skip to the elevator.

“Can you give me a quick run down of what I’m about to walk into?” You questioned as she pressed the button on the elevator.

“Well, the girls are the most awesome people you’ll ever meet. You’ve met Momo, but there’s Jiro, who has a great taste in tunes but kinda moody. Uraraka, the biggest ray of sunshine on the planet. Hakegure, who has the best personality ever. Tsu, is a little different, but is hilarious, and of course the greatest person you’ll ever meet...me!” She laughed, squeezing your arm.

“And the guys...well they’re guys of course. Kirishima, a total sweetheart and a feminist might I add. Midoryia, nice kid but villain magnet. Ayoma, he’s from France and I think he’s on the DL if you catch my drift. Absolutely at all costs stay away from Mineta. The little grape asshole with give you permanent taste of vomit in your mouth.” You crinkled your nose at the last comment. She continued, “Todoroki, which is the number one pro her Endeavor’s son and a total hottie.” She wagged her eyebrows making you laugh. “Shinso, who is the strong quiet type. Tokoyami, very respectful, the type you’d take home for Sunday dinner.”

“There’s Sero, he gives great advice he’s almost like the class therapist. Koda is a modern day Snow White and has the cutest bunny ever. Sato bakes like it’s nobody’s business and will literally make you gain 10 pounds. Then finally there’s the angry Pomeranian Bakugo.” Mina finished finally. You were pretty sure she just ran out of breath after trying to explain to you quickly before the elevator doors opened.

Mina guides you through the threshold where a bright banner read ‘Welcome to Class 3-A Y/N!’ “That’s so nice!” You said excitedly and pulled out your phone to snap a picture. Low music flowed through the large room as people mingled. No one seemed to notice that you two had joined the group. “Hello? The guest of honor is here!” Mina called out. Soon there were eyes centered on you. You waved slightly to the crowd.

You were met with bright grins and greetings. “Well hello gorgeous.” Someone spoke, you began to search for the voice. “Hey, I’m right here!” You looked slightly down and discovered a...vertically challenged boy staring at you. Well he was actually trying to stare at your boobs through your baggy sweatshirt.

“Um...hey? My eyes are up here dude.” You grimaced. Mina rolled her eyes.

“Oh I know this view is much sexier. I’m Minuro Mineta, class 3-A stud. What’s your name babe?” He wiggled his eye brows and blew you a kiss.

Ugh gross. You thought.

“This is Y/N. Back away now maggot or I’ll crush you like a bug.” Mina hissed.

“Ooooh. I’ve never been stepped on before, but if you’re doing it Mina I’d love to try.” He smirked back licking his lips. A blonde quickly rushed over and pushed Mineta back before Mina lunged at him.

“Whoa dude chill. Let her acclimate before you start being gross. I’m Denki Kaminari by the way.” He said sticking out his fist. You extended yours and fist bumped him.

“Hey, I’m Y/N nice to meet you.” You replied.

“Weren’t you interning with Hopewing back in the States? She totally rocks, I actually got her autograph whenever we went to the I-Expo a few years back.” Kaminari seemed pretty interested in the Pro Hero so you indulged him a little.

“Sure did, she taught me a whole lot about quirk control and management. Hopewing was a great influence on me, she’s kinda like my All Might I guess.” You laughed and scratched the back of your head.

“Super cool,” Kaminari replied, “Come meet the guys we were all actually interested in your quirk. Maybe you could show it off?” He grabbed your hand and lead you over to the couch where a few people sat talking. You looked over your shoulder at Mina who gave you a thumbs up.

“Guys, this is Y/N! She’s pretty cool!” Kaminari said eagerly. A chorus of greetings rang in your ears. “Kirishima, Sero, Todoroki, and Bakubro.” He pointed to each one of them and sat down on the arm of the couch, leaving you awkwardly standing infront of the group. You met Bakugo’s eyes for a split second before gaining a glare and quickly averted your eyes.

“So where are you from?” Kirishma questioned.

Before you could answer Bakugo spoke up, “The states dumbass where else?” He crossed his arms across his chest. His friend glanced at him and stuck his tongue out.

“Ignore him, he hasn’t eaten since this afternoon. He gets a little cranky when he doesn’t fed around the clock.” He reached across and pinched Bakugos cheek lightly.

“Remove your hand Shitty hair before I blast your ass.” Bakugo scowled.

“See?”

“Shitty hair...” He warned and his hand began to heat up emitting a small cloud of smoke. The group rolled their eyes.

“Anyways, I’m from Chicago, Illinois.” You answered before Bakugo could make his threat a reality. You weren’t really scared, but slightly intimidated by the man.

“Is that kinda like New York City?” Sero questioned thoughtfully.

“Kinda. Chicago isn’t nearly as big.”

“You must be tired from the flight over.” Todoroki spoke up noticing you were getting standing uncomfortablely. He stood up from the love seat he sat on, offering you his spot.

“It’s no biggie. I’m just over this jet lag.” You said, ushering him to sit back down.

“Well at least sit with me then? I’m respectful.” He continued before you took him up on his offer and sat down on the arm of the chair.

“Of course you are Icy-Hot.” Bakugo mocked. The comment being brushed off.

The hell was this dudes problem?

“The jet lag is kinda awful, but it’ll be nothing compared to this time change. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep much tonight, I might just finish unpacking everything.” You said leaning back and closing your eyes for a second.

“Well if you need some help I’d be more than happy to assist my floor neighbor.” Kirishma offered.

“I’d actually really like that I have a book shelf that needs to be put together and I have no handiness what so ever.” You smiled. You felt eyes on you and peaked at Bakugo from your peripheral.

“So, like I saying earlier...this quirk?” Kaminari spoke up breaking the encounter with Kirishma.

“Kaminari why do I feel like you only friended me for my quirk?” You joked sarcastically.

“I did not! I’m just saying I think you owe me a demonstration since I practically saved you from Mineta humping your leg.” Sero fake gagged.

“Fine fine. Todoroki, I’d scoot over just a little bit I don’t want to ruin your vision like mine.” You said. His eyes grew wide and squeezed himself into the opposite arm of the chair. You closed your eyes and began to relax your body then staring at your finger tip. Your finger began to glow.

“That’s it?” Bakugo said, unimpressed. All of a sudden your hand began to glow blue before plasma rose through your skin. You began to use your other hand to shape it into a sphere. You tossed it slightly in the air and caught it before absorbing it back into your hand. You smiled

“Whoa...” the group responded. “What’s that called?” Sero questioned.

Just as you were about to share a guy came running over. “You have Ultra Violence?” He yelled and planted himself sitting across from you on the edge of the coffee table.

“You know my quirk?” You asked propping your elbows on your knees.

“Of course! I can’t believe I didn’t put it together before you got here! You’re the daughter of Stage Four! The plasma hero! His whole body can change into plasma! Can you do that too?” He said as he pulled a notebook out of seemingly thin air.

“Damn Deku. I thought I burned that thing?” Bakugo said, nostrils flaring.

“Oh you did Kachan...multiple times.” The guy said showing off the burn edges. He nervously smiled.

“Put that weird shit away before I finish it.”

“I think it’s cool. I’d like to see it sometime.” You said motioning to his prized possession.

“Just cause you’re new doesn’t mean you have to kiss everyone’s ass, you know.” Bakugo retorted.

“Are you just jealous because I’m not kissing yours?” You countered, a sly smile spreading across your lips.

He paused, thinking of a response. Obviously flustered, “Tch, screw you newbie.”

“Jeez Bakugo, if you suck your teeth anymore they’ll go straight down your throat.”

It looks could kill, you’d be 6 feet under. A small amount of smoke began to rise from him until he huffed and stormed away.

“Well shit, I think she just might make it around here. She defused the bomb!” Kaminari clapped and grinned ear to ear. You sat back down feeling completely flushed.

“Dinner is served!” Iida called from the kitchen.

“Midoryia right?” You asked. The green haired boy nodded his head quickly. “We’ll talk later and I can answer all your questions.” You smiled kindly and placed a hand of his arm, squeezing lightly

[kashimos-hajime]

cookies and rings and things | b.b.

summary: “What do you want for Christmas?” “I’ve got everything I want right here.”

WARNINGS: swearing, but it’s all soft, cute and just love!!! lots of love :) pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader word count: 8.3k 

a/n: written for @sunmoonandbucky for no particular reason other than i saw that she needed fluff and i was more than happy to provide. make sure y’all show her some love bc she just ACED AN AUDITION and literally,, i love her,,, so much,,, NOW HAS A SEQUEL TITLED: POSITIVELY PERFECT

“How much do you love me?” she asks, winter gleaming on her bare skin and firelight playing in her eyes. It’s Boxing Day of 2024, the first truly normal one after the Blip, and Bucky watches as snow falls like feathersoft stars outside his window at the compound.

“Count the snowflakes, multiply by a million.”

“Big number,” she muses and he can feel her nails scratch at his waist lightly as her socked feet nudge against his. He wonders what kinda insane person wears socks without any clothes on, but then decides that it’s the kind of person who’s fallen in love with him.

“Well, I love you more than that,” he replies. She wrinkles her nose and snuggles in tighter against him. The fur lining of those ridiculous reading socks tickle the inside of his calf as she curls against him and he doesn’t think he should be able to love a girl this much. Then, he can feel the cold metal of the ring she slid onto her own finger less than twenty-four hours ago and realizes that he had thought a lot of things shouldn’t be possible, and yet they still are.

“Dork,” she murmurs against his neck.

“Lover,” he replies against her ear.

.

Bucky doesn’t mean to notice her. He’s running laps around the newly rebuilt compound, she has a whistle in her mouth as she shouts drills around the metal thing. Sharp cracks of ‘Pick up the pace!’ and ‘Move it, kids!’ nip at his ears when he runs by and Sam says something about how he’s getting distracted. He hadn’t realized at all.

“Who’s she?” he asks, wiping the sweat from his brow. He’s just finished five laps and he stands on the inner edge of the track, watching as recruits run past. A towel is slung over his shoulder and Sam skids to a stop in front of him, stepping in beside the soldier. The rookies’ shirts are soaked and they pant as they whip past, but none dare to slow down when she stands waiting just a few metres away.

“New trainer.” Sam’s got a glint in his eye Bucky thinks he knows when he says her name. He’s just getting to know the guy but he’s a pretty easy book to read anyway. “Heard she’s a hard ass on the newbies but it’s ‘cause she has a rep.”

“Then they’re getting what they signed up for,” he says shortly. Despite the cool autumn breeze brushing against the thick heat of his neck, his heart burns into his chest as he heaves another breath. 

“Alright, walk it off. We meet by the pool in fifteen.” She catches their attention again, and Bucky notices she’s wearing a half-zipped up windbreaker and joggers, and nothing underneath. Not that he intends to notice. Her hair is tied up back, and he kinda can’t help but look at her neck and her collarbones and, oh, no, he’s looking at her black sports bra—

“Dude.” He blinks at Sam’s amused snap. “You’re staring.”

“Shut up.” Bucky’s voice roughens up as his cheeks begin to flash red and he hides his face in his towel when Sam nudges him with a sweaty elbow. 

“She’s cute. I can get you her number,” Sam says but Bucky lets out such a strangled sound that both Sam and the cute trainer look at him. 

If it were possible, Bucky’s skin would melt off.

“Hey,” Sam calls her over by a name Bucky can barely hear because he’s too busy staring at his feet and wishing the ground would swallow him up. “You’re the new trainer, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” Her voice is so much softer than before. Guess it’s like that when you’re not yelling at recruits and talking to Avengers. Bucky raises his head, absently running a hand through the few strands of hair that’ve fallen from his ponytail. “You’re Sam, right? I feel like we’ve met before.” She cocks her eyebrow and tilts her head. “Did you use to live in Washington?”

“Yeah, I did.” Sam’s smile pinches his cheeks and Bucky’s lips press together in a displeased frown when a grin flickers across her face. “Did you work in the VA? ‘Cause you’re starting to look familiar.”

“Yeah.” When she smiles, it morphs her face into something startling warm and lovely. Bucky dips his head low, trying to act like he’s not really part of the conversation—a mere bystander—because if he looks at her for too long, he knows it’s just too intense to be anything but creepy. “I think we used to bump into each other at the gym. I was a physical therapist at the office, and—”

“You made cookies any chance you got, I remember now!” Sam exclaims and she laughs loudly. “You always made my vets’ day when your cookies came in, so thank you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m here now. It’s funny how life works.” She shrugs and Bucky can feel her gaze land on him. “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met.” Her name slips off her tongue like poetry and Bucky, midway through a swipe of sweat down his neck, looks at her with narrowed eyes. He doesn’t mean to glare, but he’s caught so off-guard by the sudden change in direction of their conversation that he isn’t even a part of that his face reverts to something less than friendly.

“Bucky,” he says stiffly, although he doesn’t know why she doesn’t know the names of every Avenger. She probably does and is just being polite, a stern voice in Bucky’s head reprimands and he can feel Sam almost sigh in disappointment. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too. You haven’t tried my cookies yet, so I haven’t proven my worth but I promise they’ll change your life,” she says, completely unphased. Bucky guesses she’s more than used to grumpy guys. “Fall equinox is tomorrow, so wait just a tiny bit longer?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Bucky doesn’t understand the question at the end of her sentence but she seems satisfied with his answer as she shoves her hands into the pockets of her windbreaker. “You probably have to get back to work,” he adds lamely and she turns to look at the compound. The autumn breeze curls hair against her cheek and Bucky bites his lip to resist the urge.

“I’m free later tonight,” she says, eyes squinting a bit when she turns back to Bucky and Sam clears his throat when Bucky himself doesn’t say a word. It’s like he’s drowning in her eyes. There’s something so effortlessly patient and warm in her gaze that Bucky can’t help but just… rest. It’s almost as if he can rest in her presence.

“So is Barnes.”

“What?” He snaps back to reality harshly, as usual. “We’re supposed to—“

“Actually, I can handle it on my own. She, however—” At this, Sam gestures wildly to the trainer who stands there, the beginnings of an amused grin growing on her face—“needs help with cookies.”

“I can’t,” he croaks after a minute of stuttering, and he simply clamps his mouth shut, averting his eyes. She’s too pretty for him. 

“I mean, company is always welcome,” she says, but he shakes his head.

“I’ll just get in your way and I don’t wanna mess up your cookies.”

“You can’t mess them up. I always think of something and it always works out.” She reaches over to take hold of his flesh arm and despite the coolness of the day when they’re not running their lungs out, her hand burns against his skin. She gently squeezes his elbow. “Don’t worry so much, okay? I’ll be in the kitchen after dinner in the mess.” 

She lets go too soon and slips her hand back into her pocket as Bucky opens his mouth to reply. 

“I’ve got to go to the pool,” she says, jerking her head towards the compound. Her eyes flicker to Sam whose grin nearly splits his face. “Bye, Sam. It was nice seeing you again, although I suppose we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other now.”

“Big building,” he says with a shrug. “Who knows?” She chuckles lightly, and then her gaze slides to Bucky.

Her eyes just seem to find his so calmly. It’s magnetic, and if he believed in love at first sight, this would be it.

“See you later, Sergeant.” She magpie salutes and he can’t help but mimic like a monkey, a lazy swipe of his finger from his brow. It’s so relaxed, so slow and he’s slouched on one hip, his metal hand on his towel, that he thinks he’s never felt so light. It’s almost routine—he could get used to this.

Man, it’s so easy with her. 

Her smile brightens remarkably and she heads back to the compound with a little spring in her step.

Sam waits until she’s inside before grabbing Bucky by the neck and giving him a noogie.

.

“You gotta dress up nice, man,” Sam advises like he’s on the same level as Tan from Queer Eye. Bucky stares at his reflection in the floor-length mirror and frowns in response. 

“We’re baking, not going to a gala.” Maybe I should take her to one. Get invited to enough of them as it is, a part of him muses, but he quickly chases that thought of his head. “Besides, she just saw us earlier today sweating like dogs so I don’t really think she’ll care if I show up in a t-shirt and shorts.”

“But this is your first date, man. You gotta dress to impress.” Sam shuffles through Bucky’s closet whilst its owner gapes at him.

“It’s not a date.”

“Yeah, and I’m not Captain America.”

“Shut up, Sam.” Bucky catches the pair of dark washed jeans and a cozy little sweater Wanda said would be cute on him. Glancing at his reflection in the mirror, he sighs. The warm white and the dark blue are so not his style. His style is black in different shades and fabrics and he is going to kill Sam. “This? I’ll look like—”

“Husband material. You’ll look like a straight up husband. She will cuff you on the spot,” Sam declares much to Bucky’s annoyance. “Are you gonna wear the photostatic veil Banner programmed for you?” He glances over to see Sam holding the mesh of tech, and he frowns thoughtfully.

“Should I?” He hasn’t had the opportunity to try it on, and although he knows everyone is used to his metal arm… He sighs. This is way more complicated than the forties. “Yeah. Good impression, right?” he says lamely and Sam claps him on the back, helping him seal it to his metal arm. As the nano-sized cells connect to the metal plates, a fleshy color blooms from the shoulder down and he feels like silk brushes against the tiny fibers of his arm. He can feel every single little cell, buzzing in a way that’s barely even noticeable. Bucky hopes that when he doesn’t focus on it, it’ll fade into the back of his mind.

“Atta boy. Come on. We’ve got dinner and then it’s time for your date! Wanda made paprikash.”

“Great,” Bucky intones dully, nerves biting at his stomach. He has no appetite for this. “I love paprikash.”

“We don’t sulk on first dates, Barnes.”

“It’s not a fucking date!”

.

After a dinner full of questions from Dr. Banner on how the photostatic veil was feeling and from everyone else on why, Bucky volunteers to do the dishes and clean up to make sure everything is spotless for when she comes in. Despite confusion among the rest of his colleagues, Sam assures them that ‘this is the plan, guys. Barnes’s got a hot date coming over.’ 

This, of course, only results in Bucky threatening to throw a skillet at him.

He wipes down the countertops, cleans the sink, and reorganizes the fridge while he waits for her, and he absently wonders what kind of cookies she intends to make. Chocolate chip, jam, sugar, shortbread…

Ingredients! His eyes widen and he turns to look at the dark pantries in slight horror. I should probably get them out for her. And measuring spoons, that’s what she needs, right? His stomach is in knots as he runs around the kitchen island, trying to find all the tools they might need. He tries to think of when Wanda had last made something sweet—what had she used? He ducks to pull out the biggest drawer, relieved to find three metal bowls of different sizes.

“Small, medium, large,” he murmurs under his breath, and he puts them all out beside the other instruments he thinks might be needed. A whisk, a bunch of different spoons, a glass cup and metal scoops… He glances around and tries to figure out what he’s missed before deciding to just open up every possible drawer and cupboard, and see what pricks his imagination.

He only gets to the second set of drawers when a soft chuckle catches his attention. 

Whipping around, he feels his heart drop into his stomach when he spots her leaning against the doorframe. Her hair is pulled away from her face, and she has a book and aprons hugged tight to her chest. 

“I didn't want to disturb you,” she says, an impish curl to her mouth. Bucky steps back from the kitchen island as she walks around and her gaze sweeps his collection. “It was cute.”

“Not many people can sneak up on me,” he says, a bit defensive as a flush makes its way up his neck. He doesn’t mean to sound like it, but maybe it’s the embarrassment of being caught that makes him oddly proud of his work.

“Not many people help me bake cookies,” she replies, standing next to him. She sets down the book and aprons down and he can catch the faint whiff of dinner at the mess hall clinging to her t-shirt. His heart hammers hard enough he’s sure even the deaf would be able to hear it as she gently plucks at different tools, thinking about what they will and won’t need. 

Not the thing that looks like a weird wire version of brass knuckles, got it.

“Uh, pastry cutter,” she names, returning it to its place without a mistake. “We won’t really need it since we’re not cutting up big portions of fat.”

“Good to know.” He nods and writes that down in his head. “Anything else we don’t need?”

“We can use it all if you want,” she says with a laugh living in her voice. “It doesn’t really make any difference to me.”

“Okay, well, let’s just get started, then.” 

“Aprons first.” She unfolds the two things, one white and navy, and the other black. The black one says Kiss the Cook and Bucky feels a flash of heat at the print. “Which one?”

The white and navy striped apron has a blue pocket with tiny white polka dots, the same pattern frilling the bottom and on the shoulder straps. The black, it’s clearly larger and for a man, and Bucky wonders if these were truly the only aprons she had or if she only bakes with guys she’s interested in. A flicker of jealousy runs through him. How many guys cooked with her before him?

Stop it. Not a date. Bucky shakes his head and shrugs.

“Whatever looks best on you,” he says. “Not that either of them would look bad or anything, but—”

“Thanks, Sarge.” Her eyes crinkle when she smiles big enough and she slips the black apron over her neck before sticking out the white and navy one to him. He stares at the piece of fabric for a moment before slipping his arms through and twisting his arms to tie a tight knot. She does the same and it’s pulled tight against her, Kiss the Chef smack in the middle of her chest.

“So where do we start?” He swallows because he thinks he’s just signed up for more than he bargained for. He looks at all these raw ingredients, ingredients he’s pulled because he thought it might be useful and doesn’t even know where to begin.

“First, we have to decide how many cookies and which type,” she says, pulling over the book and making space for it. She opens it up and his eyes widen at all the tabs poking out, different colours surely meaning different things. It’s an organized mess.

With a piece of scrap paper and a pencil, she writes down the number of required cookies. “Around there,” she says with a swift circle around a number bigger than Bucky had thought. “And these are the cookies we can make that everyone can eat,” she continues, writing a list down one side and then sectioning it off with a line, “these include nuts,” another section, “and these will have icing on them.”

“That’s a lot of planning for the fall equinox, ma’am,” he begins, trying not to sound daunted. She laughs, her eyes darting to his face. Her stare burns into his cheek as she shrugs.

“Hope I’m not scaring you away.”

No. Never. “Maybe a little.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll do the math and teach you a few tricks, and you’ll be a natural. Promise.” He’s surprised by how easily he believes her. As she talks about all the different types of cookies, the textures and ingredients one can use, Bucky finds himself slipping. He lets her scoot closer as she shows him how to sift the dry ingredients.

“Just tap it against your hand like this,” she says and Bucky copies her. She shows him how to prep the pan, and he preheats the oven. They mix the dough with their hands, and Bucky watches as her skilled hands manipulate the oily dough she’s created like it’s second nature. He glances down at his own pile in a glass bowl that doesn’t look too shabby, and almost smiles. “Yours looks really good, Bucky.”

“Thanks.” His eyes stick to the chocolate chips and he pokes it with a half-proud smile. “I had a great teacher.” She laughs again. She’s easy to laugh and smile, and every time she does either of those things, something in him feels like it’s going to burst with light. He wishes he was like that, but at the same time, he feels brighter than he has in days. Maybe it’s something about how she treats him like any other guy, or maybe it’s that she makes him smile more than anyone has in a while.

“Well, this is only batch one and two out of like, twenty billion,” she says as they begin to shape their cookies. Bucky had ripped the parchment paper for their trays and laid them flat and while they roll these balls of chocolate chip cookie dough, he can’t help but listen to her go on and on about things she wants to talk about. Life since the Blip, the recruits, hobbies and childhood memories. He can’t help but give his two cents too, and she tilts her head as she listens, a soft smile on her face.

“You’re a great listener,” she comments as he sets the trays in the oven and closes the door. She sets the timer on her phone and begins to prepare for the next batch.

“It was all I could do for a while,” he says with a shrug. “You get good at stuff you do for a long time.” Her actions slow and she turns to stare at him. He focuses on cleaning up his work space, swallowing down the smell of butter and sugar. “Guess something came out of it,” he adds uncomfortably when the silence grows. He looks beside him, at her, where there is a smear of flour across her cheek, where she merely stands there in silence, and sighs. He’s ruined it. “Sorry.”

“Is that why you hid your hand?” she asks softly and his eyes widen noticeably. “I didn’t want to ask to make you uncomfortable, but I did wonder.” She looks down to make sure she’s measuring enough sugar and she closes her eyes for a moment, clearly cursing herself. Bucky wishes he could say something, but his mouth doesn’t click with his brain. “Forget I even brought it up. I’m sorry, I—”

“I wore it for tonight,” he blurts out and she looks at him, eyebrows furrowed together. “It’s a photostatic veil Banner coded for me and… and I wore it for you.”

“Why? It’s not like I’m afraid of it.”

You should be. “I guess I just wanted to be normal for a night,” he sighs and she stops sifting for a moment to really look at him. Setting down the sieve, she leans on the counter and places the other hand on her hip, waiting for him to explain patiently. “Sam called it a date, and I think it got to my head.”

“Oh,” she breathes. He tears off the photostatic veil carefully, letting the mesh crumple in his hands and she swallows. The air is thick with an emotion neither of them can quite name and Bucky is quite sure she will never want to see him again. God, is this what it’s like to flunk a date? He sets down the mesh on a clean countertop, watching the hologram flicker as he flexes his metal fingers. They gleam in the artificial light and he hides it behind his back, shame pooling in his chest.

“I’m so sorry. I… I didn’t want to make it awkward for you,” he mutters and she reaches to touch his metal wrist tentatively. Kiss the Chef wrinkles against her chest and his gaze falls to the floor. He doesn’t quite know how to describe how utterly disappointed in himself he is when she steps closer, fingers curling over his. No pity in her eyes, she squeezes his palm carefully.

“I don’t want you hiding yourself away,” she murmurs, tilting her head so he is forced to look at her. His eyes stare dejectedly into hers and she smiles, using her other hand to cup his face. Powder dusts against his eyes and he squints. The smell of dough clings to her skin and she smiles fondly at him, fingers stroking his cheek. “I like you just as you are.”

“You like me?” he asks, confused, and she chuckles. “All I’ve done is help you make cookies.”

“‘Course I like you, dork. You’re hot.” A teasing bite in her tone, she taps his nose with her thumb before returning her palm to his cheek. “And I know you didn’t have control of anything in your past, and you’re trying your best, Bucky. That’s all any of us can do, now that we’re back.” Her eyes avert for a moment, and then find his again. There is a gooey softness that reminds him of molten chocolate and snow on Christmas eve. “I really do like you, you know. Have a big ol’ school girl crush on you, to be honest.”

“On me?” Why not anyone else? He’s bewildered. Sam, or that new receptionist on two, or even some other trainer because… 

Frankly, Bucky thinks he’s lost all appeal to those who know him since 1945.

She takes his silence as rejection and it shows in the uncertainty that mars her face. Bucky wishes he knew how to articulate that he is insanely attracted to her and how the way she laughs makes his heart believe it can jump mountains, but instead he is stunned into a quiet that fills the kitchen. He only met her a few hours ago. How can he even begin to explain it?

“We have cookies to make,” he says instead, eyes flitting to the open ingredients and he turns his head against her hand. She springs apart from him, cold rushing to fill in the space she’s left behind as she draws her hands towards herself.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess we do.” Her face falls and she grabs the sieve, a wobbly smile built on her lips. “Forget I brought it up, then.” She begins to sift her dry ingredients once again and he mentally groans to himself. Why is he such an idiot?

He mumbles her name softly, and she pauses, turning just so to look at him.

“I like you, too,” he says with a difficulty that shouldn’t be there, because it’s true. “I know I just met you today, but you’ve already made me feel… different, I guess”

“Different?” A tentative, stronger smile begins to curl the corner of her mouth and he nods, his lips twitching upwards. His hand, flesh and warm, settles on her hip all on its own, a fluttering touch that he is completely unsure of as he gently turns her to face him fully. She’s so damn gorgeous with flour on her face and eye bags beneath her eyes that he’s sure she will inevitably make his heart burst. It pounds in his head as he tries to grab at reasons he needs to step away, to stay away, but his heart battles his head ferociously. 

I’ll hurt you and I can’t stand the thought. I’ll hurt you or kill you or lose control and you can’t stop me and I don’t want to hurt you ever. His brain screams the words H.Y.D.R.A had thrown at him, the looks handlers had tossed at him flashing in his head—terrified, wild dog, monster.

I want to protect you, I want to love you, you light me up, I can protect you. I won’t hurt you. I’ll be better for you, if you could love someone like me. His heart whispers, louder than the silence. It’s the forties boy in him, the son his mama raised and the brother Rebecca loved, and he can recall the faces he’s adored—Steve, Ma, Becca.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” Bucky murmurs and she hesitantly touches his face. His eyes flutter at her gentle touch and she takes it as an invitation to cup his face once again. “It’s just… you.”

“I’m not special,” she tells him bashfully, words brushing against his lips as he closes his eyes for a moment against her hand. When he opens them once again, he finds her watching, transfixed. There is a new serenity in her eyes, one that tells him she is completely enchanted on something that cannot be him—he is anything but an angel.

“You really are.”

“Now, now, Sergeant Barnes.” Her voice is warm as whiskey and he can get drunk off the sound of her laugh. He can feel her smile just by how her energy shifts and Bucky falls, for the first time in his life; he falls harder than he ever has. “Go on like that and you’ll get anything you want from me.” 

“Even permission to kiss the chef?” Bucky’s words, thick and hot, jumble in his mouth. Her nose brushes his, sparks tingling in his veins as her hand trails to cusp the back of his neck.

“That permission will always be granted without question.” 

He kisses her softly, hesitance laced through his lips and it is only when she crushes him against her does he bury his hand in his hair and kiss her like she is meant to be kissed: feverently, reverently, forever reminded that Bucky Barnes is lucky enough to be completely in love with her.

.

Bucky is quite sure Sam is in love with his girlfriend in the fact that he’s in love with the fact that his girlfriend is possibly in love with Bucky. Bucky himself doesn’t think that she could possibly be in love with him, but Sam is more than eager to prove otherwise.

“Sam asked what I’m getting everyone for Christmas.” She’s on the shoulder press, the muscles in her back flexing and waning in a slick sheen of sweat while Bucky completes his set of push-ups. 

“He’s thinking too far ahead,” he mutters. “It’s only the start of November.”

“Well, you know him. I think he just wants an opinion on what I’m getting you.” Standing up, she grabs her water bottle, squirting a stream of ice-cold water into her mouth before laying down beside him. “What do you want for Christmas?”

He pauses mid-way up from his two-hundredth push-up. “You don’t need to get me anything, doll.” The nickname is still a bit strange on his tongue but he thinks he can get used to it.

“Yeah, but I wanna get you something.” She juts out her bottom lip in an adorable pout, a telltale sign she wants him to kiss her and he leans on one hand to press a quick kiss onto her lips before resuming his workout. He knows the signs on what she wants fairly easily now. He’s grateful she’s spelt it out so many times for him. 

Playing with his fingers means she wants attention, a pout is a kiss, suctioning kisses to the neck means she’s feeling some sorta way and he’s more than happy to oblige that feeling. There’s a long list of little tells that Bucky’s starting to think it’s a whole other language.

“How about cookies?” he deflects and she rolls her eyes, getting up and sucking down some more water. 

“I make cookies for everyone. You deserve something special,” she argues and he sighs. “I really want to make our first Christmas special.” He lies down and pushes on his palms, stretching out in a cobra pose while she rolls over into the splits. He pulls back into child’s pose while she leans forward and he’s thankful for the silence.

What do I want? he wonders. What do I want that I don’t have already? His eyes drift to her form only a few centimetres away and he thinks, Nothing. 

“I’ve got everything I want right here,” he intones seriously, crawling forward and she turns to him, eyes wide. Sitting upright, she changes legs. “I guess I want nothing to change.”

“Dork,” she mumbles, and a sticky heat pools in his face as she pokes his cheek. He sits down and she offers him his water bottle with a shake. He shakes his head, the argument that his own is only in the locker room. “Come on. Locker room’s too far away from me.” A sweat drop tracks down her jaw and he smiles softly, brushing it away. Legs crossed, he takes it without taking a sip. “Besides, I told you you can take what you want. I don’t mind.”

“Okay,” he says, knowing full well it just doesn’t feel right to take back the hoodies she’s stolen from him. Maybe one by one, he’ll take them back and wear them for at least twenty four hours before giving them back. Then, his scent will stay with her. “What do you want for Christmas, then?”

“I—” Her sentence is cut off by an alert on his phone, one they both know not to ignore and she sighs. There is disappointment, their little bubble popped with a simple text. He sets down her water bottle to get it, gut dropping at the message displayed on his screen. “How long is it?”

“Emergency response in Cairo, I don’t know,” he murmurs. Pocketing his phone, he grabs his towel and rushes back to her. He grabs her face and presses a desperate kiss against her mouth, eyes squeezing shut and she mumbles words he can’t decipher against his grieving lips. Her fingers touch his jaw gently, a reminder that he must go, and he pulls away. “I’ll text you as soon as I can.”

“Stay safe.”

He smiles shakily and promises that he will.

.

“Barnes. We got a package for you.” Sharon Carter’s voice catches his attention from his sniper post and he blinks away the winter sun from his eyes. No movement still. “Merry Christmas.”

The blonde extends a box towards him, a slight smile curling her lips and he frowns at the stark bleakness of it. Black, and absorbing no light, it feels heavier than he thought it’d be. 

“Thanks.” He shifts, his bones clicking as he glances out the tiny slit of a window. There hasn’t been movement for weeks. Crossing his legs, he sets the box before him and a tiny blue hologram pops up from a tiny hole in the center. His eyebrows furrow together as it scans his face and he squints.

“Facial scan complete: Hello, James Buchanan Barnes.”

F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice echoes in his small little perch and he still thinks it’s weird without having the side effect of Stark in his suit chasing after him to hear the A.I. but he shoves that uncomfortable feeling of the dead man out of his head. That is too much regret to unpack right now on a mission.

The box unfolds, the mechanical whir humming in his ears and a waft of sweet sugar rushes into his face as he peers within.

Cookies. Sugar cookies, butter cookies, frosting and crystal sprinkles, gingerbread, snickerdoodle, a note in her writing.

“She requested I ask you to read her note before eating the treats,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. says and Bucky pulls out her note. “She also requested that you stay safe, despite not being home for Christmas.”

Taking the blue cue card, he sighs at the mere sight of her writing. His heart aches much more than he realized and he wonders if she misses him half as much as he misses her.

Buck,

Times may be tough while we’re apart, but absence only makes the heart grow fonder. Stay safe, Sarge, and come back to me.

Merry Christmas. Forever thinking of you. 

When he bites into one of those cookies, he melts into the wall he’s leaning to and closes his eyes, just imagining her standing in the kitchen with that Kiss the Chef apron tied tightly around her. The taste brings back memories, and brings him back home to New York, to her. Home, he muses wistfully, home is waiting for me with her laugh and smell and eyes. Home.

.

Bucky drops his bags as soon as he’s off the quinjet because he spots the dark blur that is his girlfriend in a track pants and a big poofy parka running down the road towards him. He barely gets his arms up in time before she’s flying into his arms and he lets out a grunt, stumbling back as he flings his arms around her waist and holds onto her tightly. Her legs squeeze his waist as she burrows her head into his neck and Sam laughs as he unpacks the equipment.

“Bucky,” she says, pulling back and his arms hold her to him still, gently supporting her back and her bottom. Her hand cups her face and she brushes hair out of his face, tracing a healing cut on his lip. “You’re home.” She embraces him again, thighs tightening as if she’s afraid to see him leave again and he merely closes his eyes, letting the first day of 2024 snow against his skin. “You’re home.”

“I’m home, lover,” he promises, and she laughs, face wet when she steps back onto solid ground again. He opens his eyes to admire her, a vision; a sight for sore eyes from the arms length he holds her at. The snow melts as it lands on her skin but it nestles in her hair, a frame of white for her pretty face that he’s missed far too much. “God, I’m home.”

She laughs, a watery smile surfacing as she leans up to kiss him. They are rapid, wet with emotion and she smiles against his lips, just laughing in relief. “I love you so much,” she whispers and he blinks, drawing back. Her face is the epitome of happiness as he gawks at her and she wipes at her eyes. “You don’t have to say it back, but I just… I love you.” She doesn’t look afraid, only confident in her feelings for him and he scoops her up, his heart bursting with sunlight.

“I love you, too,” he whispers into her ear, embracing her tightly. She lets out a tiny exhale at his strength but hugs him back tightly anyway. What is love if not hugs that barely allow you to breathe and kisses until you’re dizzy? Bucky doesn’t know. “God, I love you.”

.

Bucky learns a lot dating her.

She hums when she cuts his hair—which she does every so often—and likes to cuddle in her sleep. She bakes for every occasion she can think of and likes to spoil Bucky rotten. Although their jobs often keep them apart during the day, Bucky likes to just watch her in her environment, ordering the recruits around.

She has a different sport she favours for every season. Jogging in the fall, hockey in the winter, tennis in the spring and swimming in the summer. More often than not, she drags a happy Bucky with her to the rec centre and he’s more than happy to participate, whether he shows it or not.

She expresses her feelings through cooking, which Bucky has learnt the hard way. One time, they got into an argument over something stupid—he can’t even remember what started it—and came to the kitchen at 2AM to see her sitting at the kitchen island crying her eyes out and surrounded by baskets of muffins.

“Lover,” he had called out softly, already too loud for the eerie time between midnight and morning. “You’ve got a bit of a muffin problem.”  

“I know,” she had replied dejectedly. “I don’t know what to do with all of it, Buck.”

They had donated it to shelters around the city, going on their own from street to street with baskets full of muffins. It becomes ritual, to have days where they bring baked goods and homemade meals to those who need it.

She doesn’t really know how to take care of herself, based on how she treats herself during assessment season, so Bucky has to pick up her slack and feed her more than caffeine. He feeds her diets that are balanced and healthy, and makes meals that he learns in his spare time to share with her while she shouts herself raw at the soldiers. 

He remembers her favourite foods and music, and knows just how to put an exhausted girl to bed with makeup and bra off. He remembers to write when he’s gone for too long during missions, and he remembers her birthday, favourite colour, and which show she’s currently obsessing over. He always downloads the seasons to catch up so he understands what she’s talking about.

It’s safe to assume he knows when to propose, hell, he’d been ready the night they first baked together, but he just has to remember to catch her ring size. There’s so much of his mind cluttered with these useless yet utterly adorable facts about her that he can’t bring himself to delete, that it’s always the one thing he forgets to do.

Here is where his friends come in.

.

They’re all hanging in the lounge on a lazy autumn day. Their one year anniversary is coming up and Bucky and Sam are watching football while she talks to Wanda about potential plans.

“Popcorn,” Sam says without tearing his eyes off the screen, shoving the bowl in their general direction. Bucky grabs it unceremoniously, popping a few into his mouth while she twists in his grip to pass the bowl to Wanda. 

“I have cookies cooling, boys,” she warns them and Wanda chuckles. The witch puts the bowl back on the table next to the empty nacho plate while Bucky’s girlfriend decides to curl against him, and his arm around her waist squeezes her close. His hand trails down to her thigh, hoisting her legs up while she peppers kisses on the underside of his jaw. 

“I don’t understand anything about this game,” Wanda intones once commercials hit, amused when Sam lets out a shout of disappointment. Beeping from the kitchen, a timer, breaks whatever retort he was prepared to throw back at the Sokovian and Bucky lets out a whine when his girlfriend unwinds from his lap to get up.

“Sorry, babe, but I gotta get them before they get too cold,” she says and Bucky frowns before nodding. He cups the back of her neck, and she kisses him quickly before pulling away and skipping to the kitchen. Wanda immediately crawls into the space on the other side of Bucky on the couch, pulling out her phone while Sam leans over to whisper.

“She sends me pictures all the time,” Wanda begins nefariously and Sam pulls out a strip of paper, a line in pencil across it. As he rolls it up into a ring, Wanda leans over to show Bucky pictures of the girls’ conversation. “She adores all of them, but she cannot decide.”

“And here you go, man.” Sam gives the paper ring to Bucky. “Got it while she was taking a nap.”

“She wants silver rather than gold,” Wanda says.

“And she doesn’t care about a venue.”

“But she likes the idea of a seasonal wedding.”

“Dude, she wants your babies.”

“She wants two or three kids.”

Bucky’s head begins to spin as they continue to bombard him with facts or proof that she actually wants to spend a life with him, and he blinks, staring at the commercials that still flash in his face. Grabbing Wanda’s phone, he focuses on the images that his girlfriend had sent the witch, gorgeous silver rings with diamonds, some with less, some with more, and simply tunes the two out, trying to internally decide what he should buy her. Meanwhile, Sam and Wanda have fallen into some argument about whether or not Bucky’s wedding is going to be a summer or winter wedding, when a new voice pierces the air.

“Who wants cookies?” 

Immediately, a hush falls over them. Bucky tears his eyes away from the phone just as Wanda snatches it back just in time for her to appear, striding into the room with the smell of cookies rushing in after her. She sends them an odd glance, and the trio of Avengers merely separate as she sets down the plate. A fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies are stacked ontop of a porcelain plate and Sam lunges forward to grab one while she picks one up delicately and resumes her place on Bucky’s lap.

“What were you three talking about?” she asks, amused, and he takes the cookie with a click of his mechanical arm. She tucks her head underneath his chin while his hand goes back to her thigh and he bites into the cookie.

“Nothing you gotta worry about,” he says. The game starts again and she can’t pipe up to argue without Sam telling them to shut up, so she doesn’t. Instead, she rests her head on his chest and Bucky hopes she doesn’t hear his heart beating like crazy in his chest. 

By the tiny smile he can feel against his chest, she can hear it.

.

Bucky holds the ring in his pocket for four months.

He had bought it the very next day after the football game because if he had let it sit, the nerves would’ve gotten to him, but now, new nerves are causing him to become paranoid: waiting for the perfect moment, scared that she’ll find out.

He thinks the proposal should be grand and all about how much he loves her and how much she’s shown him and loved him and it needs to be perfect. It is anything but that.

“Morning,” she whispers as her eyes flutter open. She’s laying against him in their comfy, toasty bed, and he doesn’t want to move for Christmas festivities except they both have to—a charity breakfast for veterans where Bucky is speaking, then a novice hockey game because his girlfriend just had to teach the cutest little seven year old boys how to utterly destroy their opponents, and then dinner. 

He traces shapes along the slope of her back lazily, craning his head to look at him and she smiles dazedly.

“Hey, lover.” He grins easier now, and when his smile splits his face, her own does too. “We’ve got a day ahead of us.”

“A day that’s way too long for Christmas,” she mumbles, closing her eyes and pressing her cheek against his chest. “Convince me to get up.” It’s still dark outside, a blissful 5AM full of snow delicately fluttering outside their window. He wraps a leg around her waist, pulling her close while she dozes and she lets out a contented sigh at his arm draped over her side.

“Don’t want to,” he replies, eyes closing. “Want you to stay right here with me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Kinda want to stay here forever,” he continues drowsily, eyes fluttering shut and she shakes in his arms with a silent laugh. “Wish everyday could be like this.”

“You wake up earlier, and maybe it could be,” she retorts. Of course the early bird in her is perfect for her morning drills with her recruits, but Bucky prefers to sleep in like the owl he is, and he lets out a snort, kissing her hairline. “Just saying.”

“I’m too busy catching up on your shows.” His arm tightens around her.

“Catching up. Liar. I know you were up at 2 AM this morning binge-watching.” She tilts her head up, eyes opening. A spark lights up her face and a mischievous curl of her lip tells Bucky she’s about to say something that’s going to make him blush. “Just admit you like Gossip Girl and go, babe.”

“Alright, I like it.” Rolling his eyes, he pecks her forehead and she smiles victoriously. It’s so adorable that Bucky, with less than three hours of sleep, adds, “God, I want to marry you.”

“What?”

Oh.

Shit.

Bucky is suddenly more awake than if someone had thrown him into an ice bath. She almost throws herself off of him, sitting up and he follows her with his eyes as she twists to turn on the lights. Golden light paints her a goddess, and her hair is messy atop her head as she stares at him with wide eyes.

Bucky sits up slowly, the blanket pooling around their waists, and she blinks at him as he chews on the inside of his cheek.

“Do you not want to get married?” he asks slowly, almost afraid. Although he’s nearly 100% certain she wants to be with him, a part of him still bites at his stomach with doubt. “Have… have I been looking at this wrong?” He doesn’t tear his eyes away, holding this staring contest as she continues to stare at him, lips slightly parted and he reaches over to touch her hand. “You okay, lover?”

“You wanna marry me?” she asks, and he nods slowly, fire rising in his stomach and crawling up his neck as he makes a mental note never to keep secrets from her because when he’s been running on three hours of sleep, he likes to spill his guts where he feels safe. 

“I… I got a ring and everything.” He turns to open the drawer on his nightstand and pulls out the dark navy box, velvet brushing against his sleep-numb fingers. “Wanda and Sam helped, and I was going to make this a big thing, but—” He’s tripping over his words as he pries it open, and he watches as her gaze falls to the silver ring, the exact one from one of the pictures Wanda had shown him—”I know I don’t really deserve you, and god, you deserve better than a proposal at 5 AM but I really do want to marry you.”

“Buck—”

“I love you. I love you so much it’s crazy because I didn’t think anyone could love me, or that I could open my heart to someone like you, and I know you deserve more than this, a better man, but—”

“Bucky—”

“All I’m trying to say is… thank you. For loving me.” His sleep addled brain tries to scramble for more things to say, and he smiles, almost sad but so, so, very much in love. “Thank you for bringing laughter into my life again.”

“Bucky, you fucking dork,” are her first words and he blinks as she lunges into his body. The blankets twist and her warm muscles wrap around him as she peppers kisses all over his face. “You wonderful, wonderful man. I love you so much. I love you, I love you, I love you.” His arm props him up against her body as he holds onto the box and she straddles his waist, twisting to look at the box. Her smile is tender as she takes out the ring and slides it onto her finger and he smiles bashfully when she shows him the fit. He lets the velvet box slip from his hand to cup her waist and he sighs blissfully when she leans to kiss him.

“Remember when I asked what you wanted for Christmas last year?” she murmurs against his lips and he smiles as the cool metal of her new ring trails down his neck to his shoulder. “And you said you wanted nothing to change…”

“I guess I just didn’t want anything more than you,” he whispers fondly and she smiles, eyes closing as she knocks her forehead against his. “But this one change I can handle.”

“Yeah?” She opens her eyes to stare deeply into his and he smiles, a warm curl to his lip.

“Yeah.”

[ibijau]

56 and/or 68 with sangxuan (maybe in that universe from the last round of prompts where jzx kept thinking “it’s not okay”?) please?

a continuation to this

aka I normally do prompts in the order I get them but this one got special treatment because I like sangxuan an unreasonable amount at the moment and I really wanted to continue that ficlet anyway

With the weather warming up again after a too long and boring winter followed by a dreary spring, and with the school year ending in just a few weeks now, Nie Huaisang is determined to go play in the rivers of the Cloud Recesses. He can’t possibly go play alone, that’d be boring. He can’t go with the Twin Jades, because they’re too serious and don’t know how to play. Jiang Cheng is studying very hard, determined to get perfect grades to please his parents. And everyone else just isn’t interesting enough.

“That’s why you’ve got to come with me,” Nie Huaisang concludes triumphantly.

Jin Zixuan, standing in the doorway of his cabin, throws him a skeptical look and rolls his eyes.

“You could just say you want me to come with you.”

“If I said that, you’d say you’re busy,” Nie Huaisang objects with a pout.

It’s a calculated move.

Jin Zixuan simply can’t resist him when he pouts. Indeed, his eyes are immediately drawn to Nie Huaisang’s mouth. He must be thinking that if they go out to the river, away from everyone, it’ll be very easy to kiss without being disturbed.

He’d be thinking right.

In fact, it is part of Nie Huaisang’s well organised plan. After playing in the water for a bit, the two of them are going to lay in the sun on the river’s banks, Nie Huaisang is going to complain that he’s cold and use it as an excuse to cuddle against Jin Zixuan, and since they’ll be half naked at that point, Jin Zixuan’s brain is going to fry from being touched like that, and so Nie Huaisang will be able to kiss him quite easily, at last.

It is so much work, getting to make out with Jin Zixuan. Sometimes Nie Huaisang can’t help thinking that he really should have picked someone a little easier to fool around with.

But nobody else is as pretty as Jin Zixuan, and nobody else looks at Nie Huaisang quite like that and… well, as his brother often complains, he’s a vain little brat who enjoys being looked at.

Besides, it’s quite fun, seducing Jin Zixuan and finding ways to make him do the things he actually wants to do but won't allow himself.

“I am busy though,” Jin Zixuan dryly replies, tearing his eyes away from Nie Huaisang’s lips. “I don’t want to fail the next test just because you don’t care about your grades.”

“Jin-xiong, please!” Nie Huaisang whines. “I’ll give you the answers to the next test if you want. It’s the same every year, and I took my old tests with me.”

“That’s cheating!”

“Only if you have the actual tests with you,” Nie Hausiang argues, innocently batting his eyes. “If you memorise the right answers beforehand it’s just… surgical learning.”

Jin Zixuan looks unimpressed, and to be fair, Nie Huaisang wouldn’t want to have to argue his case with Lan Qiren on that subject, if it came to that.

Arguing with Jin Zixuan, on the other hand, is manageable, especially with a little pouting.

So it’s no surprise that, a little while later, the two of them arrive at the river and start undressing. Jin Zixuan complains about everything of course, because he can’t seem to help it, but he’s there anyway, exactly as Nie Huaisang planned… and it is a treat to see him in nothing but his inner layers, catching glimpses of a strong body, even though Jin Zixuan stubbornly refused to undress entirely, still clinging to ridiculous notions of propriety. 

Nie Huaisang himself has no such qualms. His body isn’t quite as nice as Jin Zixuan’s, a little softer and rounder, so there’s no reason to hide it when it’s not going to be envied or admired. Nie Huaisang ends up in nothing but rolled up trousers, happy to feel some sunlight on his skin. Jin Zixuan is looking a little too much, of course, but unlike his face, Nie Huaisang knows his body won’t have any effect, so he doesn’t really care.

Besides, they didn’t come here to look at each other.

“Come on Jin-xiong, let’s go in already!” Nie Huaisang demands, grabbing Jin Zixuan’s arm to pull him toward the water.

Jin Zixuan tenses at the contact, and tries to pull away, but Nie Huaisang is stronger than he looks thanks to years of fighting everyone trying to bring him on the training field, and he easily drags Jin Zixuan to the water.

“It’s freezing!” Jin Zixuan shrieks when he puts a foot in.

“Of course it is. It comes from the mountains and the snow hasn’t finished melting there, how could it be anything but freezing?”

“This is ridiculous!”

Nie Huaisang laughs, because of course it’s ridiculous, that’s the entire point, and continues dragging Jin Zixuan into the water until it reaches mid-calf. Only then does he let go of the other boy. Jin Zixuan glares at him and crosses his arms against his chest. He’s kind of cute when he’s annoyed, which is good, considering how easily he gets annoyed.

“Well? What do we do now?” Jin Zixuan snaps. “I thought this was supposed to be fun, but so far it’s not particularly… Hey!”

Nie Huaisang, who just kicked the water to splash him, can only laugh at the air of betrayal and indignation on Jin Zixuan’s face.

"Jin-xiong, have you never played in water before? Oh, that's great, finally a fight I have a chance to win!" 

Just as intended, the idea of losing to anyone, let alone to Nie Huaisang, is a slap to Jin Zixuan's delicate ego. He might never have played this game before, but Jin Zixuan is a fast learner. Before long they're both drenched, but more importantly they're both laughing. Even if they don't end up kissing, Nie Huaisang figures this is time well used, because Jin Zixuan simply doesn't laugh enough.

But he still very much intends to do his best to get kissed again, so it's time for phase two of his plan. 

Manipulating his Qi, Nie Huaisang allows his body to feel the effects of the cold. In a moment his teeth start shattering, and he can see his hands turning a somewhat concerning shade of blue. His lips must do the same, because Jin Zixuan is staring again. 

"Nie-xiong, are you ok?" he asks, sounding really concerned. "You… There's no way your cultivation can be so bad you can't handle this! You're never that bad"

"R-rude," Nie Huaisang stutters, a little surprised by the remark. 

Usually, people are ready to believe the worst when it comes to his capacities. Coupled with Jin Zixuan' s obvious worry, it makes him feel a different kind of warmth.

“Help me get back to dry land,” Nie Huaisang demands, throwing himself at Jin Zixuan who catches him on sheer instinct.

Jin Zixuan’s skin is burning, even through the wet fabric of his inner clothes. Nie Huaisang’s first thought is that Jin Zixuan is wasting energy, and Nie Mingjue would have his head for that if he were a Nie disciple. His second thought is that Jin Zixuan must have an amazing level of cultivation if he hasn’t realised how wasteful he is. His third and final thought is that it’s nice to be held like this, to feel this warmth, this closeness, and…

Jin Zixuan gasps and pushes him away, making him fall butt first in the water.

“Don’t cling to me like that!” Jin Zixuan snaps, his face turning redder than the dot on his forehead. “You’re well enough to get out on your own.”

“I’m not!” Nie Huaisang whines, getting up again. “Jin-xiong, you’re so mean. I’m going to be mad at you now!”

Jin Zixuan hesitates upon hearing that, and even takes a step toward Nie Huaisang as if to finally help. Nie Huaisang lifts one hand, but Jin Zixuan only stares, his eyes trailing along Nie Huaisang’s arm down to his bare chest where they linger a moment before he abruptly turns away without a word, his fists clenched tight as he walks out of the river.

Nie Huaisang sighs, but doesn’t insist. Maybe showing this much skin was a little too much, he figures as he gets up and leaves the water as well. He knows that Jin Zixuan gets weird about stuff sometimes. That’s the reason why Nie Huaisang has to come up with such convoluted plans for a chance to make out, after all. Jin Zixuan will devour him with his eyes, and then get all grumpy the instant Nie Huaisang tries to actually act on that.

Maybe he really should just stop this game, and try to have fun with someone easier. He has half a mind to try his chance with Lan Wangji, who’s been moping miserably since Wei Wuxian was kicked out. It’d be a challenge, though not nearly as fun as teasing Jin Zixuan.

Jin Zixuan who is already unfolding his outer robes, as if he can’t stand to be exposed a second more. Nie Huaisang sighs. His plan really didn’t work this time.

“Jin-xiong, wait a little to be dry before you put those on or they’ll get wet.”

“They’re not for me,” Jin Zixuan grumbles, before coming closer to wrap his robe around Nie Huaisang.

Instantly, Nie Huaisang does feel warmer, though he’s pretty sure it’s not because he’s covered.

“But now you won’t have anything dry to put on later!” he weakly protests.

Jin Zixuan shrugs, looking away. “It’s fine, it won’t kill me to put on something damp. But you’re completely blue, and I’ll get in trouble if I let you get sick.”

“Zixuan, you’re nice when you try, do you know that?” Nie Huaisang mumbles, pulling the robe closer to him. “I don’t care what some people say, you’re really nice.”

Maybe it’s the use of his name, or the compliment, but Jin Zixuan’s face turns even redder than before. It’d be cute, if he didn’t look so scared.

In Nie Huaisang’s experience, that particular expression means Jin Zixuan is either amenable to be kissed after all, or that he’s about to bolt away like a startled deer. There’s no in-between, and there’s no way to know which it’s going to be.

Today, Nie Huaisang bets on Jin Zixuan running away. He really pushed too far with his idea of being half naked after all.

But to his surprise, Jin Zixuan doesn’t try to leave. Instead, he steps closer, and hesitantly reaches out for Nie Huaisang’s face, his hand shaking so badly it’d seem like he’s the one who’s not using cultivation to stay warm. Jin Zixuan hesitates, stopping just shy of actually touching Nie Huaisang’s cheek. His trembling hand pushes Nie Huaisang’s hair out of the way and behind his ear before his fingers brush against his cheek to pick up something there, lingering on his skin a moment too long.

“Zixuan,” Nie Huaisang whispers, sounding painfully hopeful even to his own ears.

It breaks the spell. Jin Zixuan shivers and pulls his hand again as if burned.

“You had a…” he mumbles, lifting his hand to show a piece of algae that must have gotten on Nie Huaisang’s face when he fell in the water. “It’s… you should dry yourself, we’d better go back soon, it’ll be noticed that we’re gone.”

Nie Huaisang nods, at a loss for words.

Even though they’ve been friends for some months now, even though they’ve cuddled and kissed more than once, this is the first time that Jin Zixuan, of his own volition, touched him. So far it’s always been Nie Huaisang initiating everything, mostly because it’s just the way he is.

He knows that Jin Zixuan isn’t like him, and so that simple touch makes his heart race, beating so hard against his ribs that it’s nearly painful.

Even as Jin Zixuan turns away to make sure nobody’s coming their way, Nie Huaisang feels like something has just shifted between them, even more so than the first time they kissed.

This thing with Jin Zixuan should have been a game, just a way to pass time until going home again. Nie Huaisang had just wanted to see how far he could push Jin Zixuan who, clearly, has never been pushed around much. But the way Jin Zixuan looks at him sometimes with a mix of longing and terror, the tenderness with which he tucked his hair out of the way... it does something to Nie Huaisang’s poor heart.

For the first time in his life, Nie Huaisang almost wishes he could be strong in a conventional manner. Whatever is scaring Jin Zixuan, Nie Huaisang finds more and more that he wants to protect him from it. He has a growing suspicion, though, that what scares him is more complex than a fear of spiders or of the dark, and that won’t easily be dealt with. Even if he were better with a sabre, Nie Huaisang couldn’t just grab his weapon and threaten to kill Jin Guangshan if he doesn’t stop trying to mold his son into something he isn’t… though if he tried, he’s sure Nie Mingjue would certainly support him.

Nie Mingjue always supports his family.

Oh.

A grin appears on Nie Huaisang’s lips, and a plan in his head as he realises something.

He can’t protect Jin Zixuan from his father and mother at the moment, sure, but if one of them were to enter the other’s family, then it’d be easier to do it. And they wouldn’t have to hide so much to kiss, right? And if they were married, Nie Huaisang is almost sure he would eventually convince Jin Zixuan to try doing more than kissing.

It won’t be easy to get married. Lanling Jin is infamously unkind to cut-sleeves, and it deserves that reputation judging by Jin Zixuan’s…. everything. And Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangshan dislike each other something fierce, so they won’t cooperate at all. 

But Nie Huaisang wants this. 

It shocks him, in fact, how much he wants this. Enough to actually try to fight for it, in fact.

After all, just because he doesn’t like to make efforts about anything most of the time, it doesn’t mean he cannot.

So he’s going to marry Jin Zixuan.

And when they’re married, nobody will ever hurt him again.

Also, they’re going to kiss so much.