#no one could have predicted they’d get married so i’ll let that one slide

[hobgoblinns]

the doctor’s daughter would be a good episode if almost everything about it was different

[somebodycall911onabc]

A Space Already Taken

Ep4x12 Buddie ficlet (not really any spoilers for season 4).

Read on AO3

Buck can take a hint. Particularly when it comes to romance and attraction—he knows when someone wants him and he knows when to make a move. Honestly, at this point he’s had so much practice charming people into bed that he could teach a class on it. One Night Stands 101 or something.

Which is why Taylor Kelly confuses the hell out of him.

Since the treasure hunting incident, she’s backed away from him three times. She’ll lean in close, lower her voice, flutter her eyelashes, brush her hair behind her ear…

And then lean away! Buck is losing his mind.

So when she does it again, when they’re at his apartment after a dinner Buck cooked for them, leaning against each other on the floor in front of the couch, Buck sighs out,

“Taylor, what are we doing?”

She’d turned away from him already, faked a laugh over some conversation they’d been having (i.e., she’d been having while Buck was getting lost in her eyes), but at his words she freezes.

Slowly, like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar, she turns back toward him. The expression on her face is familiar. He’d seen it on Abby a lot, near the end. And Ali.

It’s regret.

“My bad,” Buck says hastily, holding up his hands, “Sorry. If I’ve been, you know, pushy about it.”

Taylor bites her lip.

“I’m sorry, Buck,” she says. “If we weren’t friends then… yeah, a tumble would be fun. But we are. And it gets… messy.”

“I would have thought you’d be kind of into a friends with benefits situation,” Buck says, non-judgemental. “Don’t have to waste time on romance or relationships, you know?”

“I don’t have an issue with it,” Taylor corrects. “But you would.”

“Me?” Buck says, surprised. “Most of my relationships have been no-strings-attached ones.”

“Yeah…” Taylor says gently. “But that’s not you anymore. You know I’m right. You want romance, Buck. You want marriage and kids and love. Real love. And you deserve it. Which is exactly why you shouldn’t waste your time on me.”

“That’s bullshit,” Buck protests, but his heart is sinking because, well, she’s right.

Taylor shakes her head. “I can’t give you those things, Buck. I’m not sure they’re what I even want. Love, yes. But the rest of it?”

“Who says we need to figure it out now? Who says we can’t give it a shot and see where it goes?”

“Because I don’t have all that many friends,” Taylor admits. “And I don’t want to lose one over something stupid like a lack of self-restraint.”

“Who says you’ll lose me?” Buck asks, grasping at straws now. “You keep talking like you can predict everything, like the future’s already set in stone. But from what I’ve seen, the future’s pretty fucking unpredictable.”

“Buck,” Taylor says, swaying close to lay a hand on his cheek, “even if I did love you as more than a friend, I wouldn’t be able to hold a candle to Eddie.”

Buck feels the world stop turning. For just a second. Stalled on its axis like a wind-up toy that reached the end of its mechanical loop.

“Oh, Buck,” Taylor says, pulling her hand away. “C’mon. You revolve around him like he’s the fucking sun.”

“No, I…” Buck shakes his head like a dog dispelling water from its fur. “We’re friends. Brothers. I love him, yeah, but not like…”

“Brothers don’t look at each other the way you two look at each other.”

Buck’s palms are sweating. “Look at each other… how?”

Taylor gives him a long look, somewhere between disbelief and pity.

She says, “like they want to devour each other whole.”

Buck doesn’t sleep that night.

Taylor left with a kiss to his cheek and an open invitation to call her therapist—not her, she made abundantly clear, because she’d done enough to help Buck through the ensuing emotional crisis over the next three hours and two bottles of wine. But Buck just stares up at the ceiling and relives every moment he can recall about Eddie.

And there’s… a lot to get through.

Eddie smiling as Chris reads out a poem he wrote for class.

Eddie concentrated and intense, fists raised as he efficiently and elegantly attacks the punching bag at the station.

Eddie lying pale and cold in the hospital bed after nearly drowning, Buck gripping his hand and thanking every God he can think of that he won’t have to tell Chris he lost another parent.

Eddie’s eyes, warm on his, smiling that conspiratorial smile he saves just for Buck, that makes Buck feel like he’s swallowed the sun.

And Buck realizes that, on some level, he’s always known. He’s never felt this way about anyone. Like the world glows a little brighter when Eddie’s around, like his heart is a skipping record every time Eddie touches him.

He can’t remember a time when it didn’t feel like this.

Buck throws off the covers and stomps down the stairs, grabbing his keys from the kitchen counter on his way out the door.

The drive to Eddie’s is full of white noise and Buck’s memories.

“Real funny, Buck.”

“I know you did.”

“You could have my back any day.”

“Buck, there’s nobody in this world I trust with my son more than you.”

Buck finds himself at Eddie’s door, the porch light flickering on as it senses him. He thinks about knocking, but he doesn’t want to wake Chris, so he pulls out his phone and texts Eddie.

Within a minute, Buck hears noise from inside the house. Eddie’s always been a light sleeper. He makes it to the door three minutes after Buck texts him, ‘I’m outside.’

It’s enough time for Buck to shiver a little at the cold night air, realize he’d put on two different shoes, and chicken out.

Eddie swings open the door and blinks at Buck, a tiny frown on his face.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, stepping aside so that Buck can come in.

Buck curses internally while he toes off his mismatched shoes. “Nothing. I… I just couldn’t sleep.”

“Not your leg, is it?” Eddie asks, making his way down the hallway to the living room. Buck’s heartbeat kicks up, because here’s Eddie sleep-rumpled at four in the morning, opening his door to Buck and worrying about an injury from two years ago.

Buck never had a chance, did he?

“No,” Buck replies, following Eddie onto the couch. “Not the leg.”

Eddie fixes his eyes on Buck and gives him a long, assessing look. Unlike Taylor, Eddie’s gaze is tinged with concern and sympathy.

“This about Taylor Kelly?” He asks, eyes narrowing.

“Jesus,” Buck mutters. “What is it with you two reading my mind lately?”

“You’re just an open book, Buck,” Eddie says, fighting a yawn. “Not much to it. What happened?”

“She just… turned me down,” Buck says with a shrug. He can’t bring himself to feel that bad about it.

“And you’re… upset?” Eddie asks, because of course he can tell that’s not what Buck is really here about.

“No,” Buck admits. “Not really.”

“What is it then?” Eddie asks. And the way he says it, so patiently, resting his cheek against his fist as he sits sideways on the couch to face Buck, breaks something down inside him.

“It’s just…” Buck picks at a loose thread on his jeans. “I just wonder when someone is going to look at me and like… want me. When someone is finally going to love me back.”

The room goes still, like it’s holding its breath the same way Buck and Eddie are. Buck can’t bring himself to look up at whatever expression is on Eddie’s face.

Eddie breathes out. In barely more than a whisper, he says, “I do.”

Buck’s vision goes white for a moment.

His voice cracks as he says, “what?”

“I love you,” Eddie says, firmer now. He’s committed to it. That’s how Eddie is. He doesn’t back down. Buck’s always admired that about him.

“You… but… Ana?” Buck splutters, staring sightlessly down at his own hands, which have fallen still in his lap.

Eddie lets out a hollow-sounding laugh. “Ana broke up with me,” he says.

“What?”

“A few weeks ago, actually. Says I wasn’t trusting enough. That I didn’t really want her in mine and Chris’s lives. She wasn’t wrong.”

“No?” Buck feels like he’s breathing underwater, like there’s no air in the entire goddamn universe.

“Because I already have you,” Eddie says. “Hard to fill a place that’s already taken.”

Buck is horrified to feel a tear slide down his cheek. Jesus, he’s a mess. Eddie’s in love with this?

“Hey,” Eddie says, reaching over to lay a hand on Buck’s shoulder. Buck feels his tell-tale heart skip a beat. “Buck, you alright?”

“I just found out my best friend is in love with me,” Buck chokes out, “after realizing that I’ve been in love with him for years. Give me a minute.”

Eddie doesn’t.

He reaches a hand over to Buck’s jaw, turning Buck to face him. Eddie’s smile is ecstatic, radiant, like someone just told him every Hildy product in the world had been destroyed.

“That so?” He says, his other hand slipping over Buck’s shoulder and down his back, bringing them close. Close enough that their noses are practically touching.

“Yeah,” Buck says.

He can take a hint. He knows when someone wants him. He knows when to make a move.

But when Eddie kisses him, it takes Buck completely and wholly by surprise. Because apparently Buck is hopeless when it comes to love.

Eddie pulls away and Buck chases him with lips and hands and muttered pleas. Eddie breathes a laugh against his lips and Buck wants to feel that every day for the rest of his life.

“I love you,” Eddie says, “so goddamn much.”

“I love you, too,” Buck echoes, feeling warm and soft inside and out. Like he’s incandescent.

“Good,” Eddie says, kissing Buck on the nose, which makes him feel like his bones have turned to jelly. “Can we go the fuck to sleep, then?”

Buck laughs. “I’ll try to save my earth-shattering realizations for daytime from now on,” he says.

“Please do. I’d hate to have to kill you before the wedding.”

“Wedding?” Buck asks, laughing again.

“M’serious,” Eddie protests, rubbing his nose against Buck’s cheek. “I’m going to marry you, Buck. I’d ask you now, but the ring’s in my nightstand.”

“Bullshit.”

Eddie presses his smile to Buck’s. “Why don’t you come to bed and find out?”

Turns out, Eddie does have a ring. It’s black and polished metal that he shyly admits he bought more than a year ago.

“Wasn’t that during the lawsuit?” Buck asks, admiring the ring on his finger. “Weren’t we not talking then?”

“Why’d you think I was so mad at you?” Eddie says, eyes closed, laying back against the pillows. He’s got one arm wrapped around Buck’s waist. “Mad at myself too, ‘cause I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I wasn’t ready. I didn’t think you could ever… I didn’t think you felt the same.”

“Guess tonight was a surprise, huh?”

Eddie slides his hand up to twine his fingers with Buck’s, brushing his thumb over the ring on Buck’s hand.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees. “Life likes to throw me curveballs, I guess.”

“Excuse you,” Buck says, settling down into the curve of Eddie’s arm. “I’m not a curveball.”

“Sure you are,” Eddie says. “But I love you anyway.”

Buck rests his cheek on Eddie’s chest, closing his eyes. “I’m gonna have to send Taylor a thank you card.”

Eddie snorts. “Go to sleep, Buck.”

Buck, smiling to himself, does. After all, they’ve got a pretty big day ahead of them. Starting with Christopher.

[zigtheeortega]

come back to me

pairing | colt x mc

word count | 5.3k

warnings | blood, guns, bullets, wounds, and a mention of death. there’s a section of the fic where mc gets shot when a job goes awry – it’s used in a hurt/comfort scenario, but be warned that it’s in there! lmk if i need to use any other tags!

tags | @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @senatorraines, @jaxmatsuo, @rodappreciationweek

author’s note | i’ve never written a colt fic before, so i wanted to take a crack at a slowburn colt au – this fic takes place over the span of about ten-ish years (fifteen-ish total since the events of book one). i’m not the biggest colt expert so i hope i did him justice!

•─────────────────•

“If you ever ask me to do this much ass kissing again, I’m divorcing you.”

Colt flung himself onto the bed, still fully clothed, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Oh, stop being dramatic,” Raquel laughed, reaching back to unzip herself, the soft fabric of her sundress sliding down her body and onto the floor.

He hummed from his place on the bed, neck craning to watch her as she changed into her pajamas.

“Stop distracting me from being annoyed,” he grumbled, letting his head fall back, his gaze trained on the ceiling.

“Are you actually mad at me or are you just complaining to hear yourself talk?” She asked, but before he could respond she’d climbed on top of him, wrapping him in a koala hug, nestling her head under his chin.

Naturally, he hugged her back, his arms snaking around her waist.

He shrugged. “I’m not mad at you.”

She giggled into his chest, sending tremors up his body, the warmest kind. “You’re the most stubborn man I’ve ever met.”

 “Yeah, I don’t know why you married me,” he kissed the top of her head. “You’re too good for me.”

Raquel pushed herself up till they were nose to nose, giving him a pointed look. “I haven’t been too good for anyone since we were kids.” She pressed a quick kiss on his lips, intending to pull away, but he gripped her chin before she could, kissing her deeply.

He’d never get tired of that… and he’d never get tired of her.

For the longest time, he thought it was too far-fetched to expect he’d find someone willing to stick around through all of his bullshit, much less someone who’d legally binded herself to him.

He was still in awe with how it played out.

He’d returned to Los Angeles dangerously too soon after their run in with The Brotherhood. Incidentally enough, he was laying low on high alert for so long… but nothing came of it.

Maybe they’d been arrested, maybe they’d gotten justice, or maybe they just moved on to terrorize another city. He’d always assumed it was the latter.

Rebuilding his father’s autoshop was painful, no matter how deep he tried to shove those feelings down.

Colt’s vision for his father’s crumbling empire wasn’t one that came into focus for him for years.

Five years after The Brotherhood incident, all he had to show for it was a struggling auto shop with a few criminal employees who barely knew how to hotwire a car.

It seemed like there were no hills in sight, only cavernous valleys.

Five years after The Brotherhood incident, the death of his father, and the end of the Mercy Park Crew, she came into focus.

Raquel stepped into the garage, heels clacking against the dirty concrete, her gait determined.

He watched her from his tiny office, peering through the blinds as she glided confidently across the auto shop and up to his door.

She rapped her knuckles against it a few times, a little too heavy handedly.

There’s no way she’s really here, he thought, shaking his head. No fucking way.

He debated whether or not to let her in – the last time a Kaneko opened their doors to her, they nearly ruined her life.

He twisted the knob and yanked it open anyways, an insult bubbling up his throat. After all these years, he figured he’d be relieved to see her, but the tiny sliver of relief was easily overshadowed by his knee jerk reaction of annoyance and shock.

There was a small part of him that was excited, but not enough to warrant being nice to her.

When he came face to face with her for the first time, she spoke first. “Hi, Mr. Kaneko. I’d like to apply for a bookkeeping job.”

He blinked when she shoved a thick manila folder in his hands. “I think my qualifications speak for themselves.”

He thumbs the edges of the papers, flipping through her resume and the thick Master’s thesis. She’s too fucking smart to be back here.

Before anyone in the shop could see, he tugged her arm till she was inside, all but slamming the door behind her.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

She ripped her arm from his grasp, brows furrowed. “I’m here to work.”

“Don’t you get how dangerous it is for you to be here or are you just stupid?” He all but spat, slapping the folder onto his desk. 

“If I’m stupid that makes you just as much of an idiot as me,” she countered, crossing her arms firmly. “I know the risks.”

“You can’t be dumb enough to think I’d take that risk, though,” he rolled his eyes, plopping into the chair at his desk.

She laughed – actually laughed – at him, covering her mouth. “Forgive me for that.”

He cocked a brow at her, waiting for her to continue.

“I went to school with pretentious male academics for five years, Colt. Whatever you’re gonna say to me has already been said, and it won’t hurt my feelings.”

He leans forward, flipping to her resume, tearing it off the top. “Let’s see, here. Langston college, yeah, I remember that. Graduated with honors? Predictable to do that three times in a row, don’t you think?”

She laughed again. “That’s a new one. I’ll have to log that under my favorite insults.”

“Well, I have loads. You’re giving me lots of material, Miss Olvera,” he mocked her, going back to skimming her resume.

Truthfully, he was trying to scare her away by being mean, and it wasn’t working. He didn’t want to dig too deep, though, because he wasn’t that evil.

He liked the girl – hell, if he didn’t like her, would he be bending over backwards to make her hate him purely for her safety?

“I can’t pay you well. I’m still rebuilding, and we’re barely breaking even. We’ve been sticking to straight work till I can manage to rebuild our reputation and relationships with buyers.”

She nodded. “I completely understand, and I don’t mind.”

“What, are you gonna ask me for a place to stay next?” He grumbled, rolling his eyes.

He was lying if he didn’t feel a little something stir in his stomach at the possibility of her staying in his apartment above the shop.

“No, I’m alright.”

“You came back to L.A. and you immediately have a place to stay? You’re lying.”

Her lips pressed into a firm line, she shook her head. “I’m back at my dad’s house.”

“What? There’s no fucking way I’m letting you work here if you’re living with a cop –”

“He passed away last year,” she chewed her lip, trying to keep her face neutral. “He had a heart attack in the middle of the night. Couldn’t get to the phone in time.

“Thankfully, he had a will set in place soon after mom died,” she shrugged. “I got the house, so I’m good.”

His fists clenched at his side. He’d already taken it too far without even meaning to.

“Sorry to hear that.”

She scoffed, a single forced laugh bursting from her lips. “You don’t have to respect him in front of me to save face or whatever. Your feelings about my dad don’t affect me.”

He nodded once, and the room descended into silence. He took the time to actually read her resume that time around, finding himself genuinely impressed with what she’d accomplished.

What he wanted to ask was “Why the fuck did you come back here?” but instead, what came out was, “You’re sure you can handle this?”

“I’m sure.”

She said those words with such conviction that he never had to ask again.

Raquel cuddled up to him, her breathing evening out. He hadn’t realized they’d gone that long without speaking.

He didn’t mind it though. He didn’t care as long as she was with him.

She stirred in her sleep, nearly rolling off of him, so he took that as his cue to tuck her in.

When she was settled under the covers, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and stepped out onto the deck.

The beach house they’d rented was a hundred feet from the shore, the waves grating against the sand creating the perfect white noise.

Perfect for sleeping, he mused, thinking about how quickly Raquel fell asleep in his arms, watching the water crash and retreat, push and pull over and over.

That same back and forth was what eventually brought him and Raquel together. They butted heads constantly, but had the same view on lots of decisions. They’d finish each other’s sentences and the crew would give each other knowing looks that he ignored.

A year in, she finally broke down. Not purposefully, and certainly not with the intent of him finding her curled into a sobbing mess outside of the garage.

“Hey what the hell, Raquel? It’s dangerous out here,” he called as he jogged up to her crumpled form.

He didn’t notice she was crying until he’d crouched down to check the injuries he thought she’d have. 

She shielded her face with one hand and used the other to wave him away. “Just go.”

“I’m not leaving until you’re safe.”

It wasn’t even meant to be romantic. He’d do it for the rest of his crew since they’d grown so close.

There wasn’t a possibility of anything happening between them, or so he thought at the time. And what she admitted to him that night sealed their fate for years.

He’d managed to help her inside to his office, pulling back his worn office chair for her to collapse into.

A short “You okay?” Was all he could manage. He was new to this wellness check stuff and it didn’t come naturally to him.

But he knew as a leader, he had to do a lot more than just telling people what to do. Even if they split without a word in a week’s time, they were still a working machine that needed a little elbow grease every once in a while.

Even in the dim lamp light he could tell her eyes were red rimmed.

“I don’t think you want to hear my explanation as to why I’m not,” she laughed humorlessly, using the sleeve of her shirt to scrub the streak of makeup under her eye.

“I’m not good at this comforting shit, but I’ve got ears and I’ve gotten pretty good at using them,” he joked, sliding into the rickety folding chair in front of the desk.

She shrugged, flinging her hands up. “You’re gonna make fun of me –”

“– I won’t –”

“– You will, Colt. I know you and you’re gonna scoff the minute I take a breath.”

He couldn’t hold back the small smile at that.

“Well, yeah, but you don’t have to take it to heart.”

She sniffled, laughing. “You’re hard to ignore.”

“So are you, hard ass. Tell me what’s wrong.”

The sigh that came from her was labored, struggled, like she was about to drop heavy weights onto the floor of the office.

“Today’s the one year anniversary since I started working for you.”

He cocked a brow. “That’s it?”

“If you’d just let me explain then you’d know,” she rolled her eyes. “You’re already sucking at being a good listener.”

He held his hands up in surrender, leaning back into his chair. “Sorry.”

“My whole game plan was to figure out how to make myself useful. It’s why I got my Masters in accounting in the first place. I wanted to have my solid place in the crew, you know? Like I earned my spot.”

He nodded, waiting for her to continue.

“I just had this stupid fairytale idea in my head about coming back to L.A. and none of that’s come true.”

“Well, what was it? Anything I can do?” He asked.

Raquel sank her teeth into her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. She shook her head in response, taking a few deep breaths till she could finish.

“I wanted our old crew back. I… thought Logan would be back here by now, or looking for me at the very least,” she rubbed her temples, closing her eyes. “I waited five years to come back here and I’ve barely lasted one year in L.A. without him.”

He couldn’t help but flex his hand in and out of a fist a couple times as she spoke.

Yeah, it was true he didn’t care for Logan that much, but she liked him. Loved him, even.

If she was this dedicated to him six years later and he still hadn’t tried finding her, he didn’t deserve her.

“So it’s about Logan?” He asked with zero judgement, and she could tell.

She nodded, sniffling again. “Maybe I’ve just deluded myself into thinking we meant more to each other, but I’m still in love with him and I don’t know when that’s going to end for me.”

He didn’t know what to say, so he did what he thought was best.

He stood up, taking a couple steps till he was close enough to lay his palm on her shoulder, rubbing his thumb gently across the fabric.

She laid her hand on his thumb, holding it in place, as the sobs shook her body.

After that, he tried his hardest to keep her from crying. Which entailed leaving Logan’s name out of things.

Colt abandoned his shirt and shoes at the back door and hopped off the deck, landing softly on the sand. He took his time walking towards the water, gaze transfixed on the moon, which was at its peak in the sky.

He always thought the fact that the sea and moon were interlinked was kind of peculiar. The moon, thousands and thousands and thousands of miles away, had just enough power to pull the waves in the right direction.

He thought of Raquel like his moon far too often. The minute he was in her gravitational pull, he found himself wanting to follow her – to let her take the reins – and that was rare.

The first time he knew it was the beginning of the end with her was when a job went south.

Three years after she broke down about wanting the old crew back, they got a taste of the old violence.

One of their crew members, Isaac, had said for weeks that he had a weird gut feeling about that job in particular. Colt waved him off, reminding him that he’d value proof over superstition anyday.

In short, they were ambushed – nothing out of the ordinary in terms of their day to day risk.

What Colt wasn’t expecting, however, was for Raquel to be the one who got hurt.

They were cornered by the masked group, and before their crewmember Aly could grab her gun and shoot, one of them fired, the cracking sound of the gunshot echoing off the concrete flooring of the rundown parking garage.

Raquel’s pained groan followed immediately after.

Colt’s heart stopped when he saw the fabric of her jeans turning a deep deep maroon, the blood spreading faster than he could process what’d happened.

Her eyes fluttered and she stumbled to her knees, crying out as she knelt, bending her legs, one of which had been freshly torn through with a bullet.

“Don’t let them get away –” he shouted, flinging his arm in the direction of the fleeing criminals. He knelt down to scoop Raquel’s crumpled form into his arms. “Isaac, stay here.”

Isaac froze, nodding. “Anything you need, boss.”

“Drop me off at the shop so I can patch her up. I have to stop the bleeding.”

Colt’s voice was calm and even, but inside he was at his breaking point. He sat in the backseat of the car with Raquel strewn across his lap, the color draining from her face with each passing minute.

His palm was firmly pressed against her calf to halt the bleeding. He was thankful that the adrenaline was numbing the pain till they could make it to the shop.

She’d wince every time he adjusted his slippery grip, instinctively turning her head into the crook of his neck. That didn’t cross his mind till much later.

When she attempted talking once or twice, he furiously shushed her each time. “Save your energy. You’ll need it.”

When Isaac skidded to a stop in the garage, Colt tossed his keys Isaac’s way. “Take my car and get out of the city for a few days. Lay low. I’ll clean this one up and it’ll be good as new when you come back.”

Isaac nodded, brows furrowed. “I should’ve… I knew it was gonna go south but I should’ve tried to convince you again –”

Colt held up a hand. “You were right, and I should’ve trusted your gut instinct, and I will from now on. This is solely on me. Don’t blame yourself.”

He nodded, hopping out of the car, sliding into Colt’s convertible, and disappearing into the night.

He’d managed to get Raquel into the apartment and onto the worn leather couch in the office – she was pale and clammy, flitting in and out of being fully aware of what was going on.

“Colt… I can clean up my leg, just… just give me a second to catch my breath,” she said, her eyes drooping closed.

“Absolutely not. Give me a second. I’m trying to find the goddamn gauze but I don’t see it anywhere –”

He was glad his back was turned, because he was shaking in terror and rage in a way he hadn’t in a long time.

The first aid kit clattered out of his hands and onto the desk, and he cursed, gripping the side of the desk till his knuckles were bright white and screaming at him to let go.

“Colt…” she whispered. “I’ll be fine. I’m just hurting.”

He dragged a chair to her side, propping her ankle up against his knee before getting to work cutting a thin line up the outer seam of her jeans. The blood trickled onto his own leg, saturating the denim of his pant leg immediately.

“Are you gonna ignore me the whole time you work on my leg?” She joked, wincing. “Fuck –”

The scissors were close to the wound, and he tried his best to stretch it away from it before cutting further.

“Sorry,” he murmured, grabbing two rags and dousing it in hydrogen peroxide. He rolled up the second one, handing it to Raquel.

She sighed shakily before stuffing it into her mouth, digging her fingers into the cracked leather of the couch.

She nodded once, giving him the sign to get it over with.

The second the damp rag touched her bloodied skin, she panted through her nose, eyes screwed shut.

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” He grunted, grimacing as her thigh bucked against his hand, despite him trying to hold her in place.

When he touched the wound, she screamed, devolving into choked, muffled sobs.

He’d made a vow to make sure she never cried over Logan again, and instead he’d broken his promise by putting her in direct danger over and over and over again.

There was no reason for her to accompany them on jobs – she knew the risk, and didn’t care, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t stop her from coming.

No matter how hard he tried, he was always the reason she was getting hurt.

“This is all my fault,” he said, when he’d finished cleaning her wound. “I should’ve never let you come along to our trades.”

She scrubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, a couple stray tears still glistening across her temples. “I wanted to be a part of this. Like you said to Isaac, you can’t blame yourself for this.”

“I don’t care what you say, alright? It was my fucking fault and you should’ve never been a part of this life.”

“Colt.”

He glanced up, barely able to meet her gaze.

“Whether you want to admit it or not, I’ve been a part of this life for nearly ten years now. I’m almost thirty. You’re closer to thirty than me. I know what I’ve gotten myself into, and I’m sticking by you regardless of the risk on my life.”

She slipped a clammy hand over his, which still held her thigh firmly in place. “If I lose my life on a job, I don’t regret it at all. I’d never regret meeting you.”

She took a labored breath, laying back against the armrest. “That took a lot out of me.”

Colt shook his head. “Stop talking. You need your energy.”

Raquel rolled her eyes. “I try being nice to you and you ignore it every time.”

“I just don’t know what the fuck to say to that. What the fuck am I supposed to say to that, huh?” He asked incredulously.

She blinked, her eyes narrowing. “I just got fucking shot, and you’re cursing at me while asking me to be your therapist? Am I hearing that right?”

He picked up his bloodied hands from her leg and threw them up in the air. “I have a lot going on in my head right now, and I’m not trying to fight you or get you to be my fuckin’ therapist, alright? I’m just confused.” He was barely below a shout, his chest heaving when he was done.

“I can’t read your mind, Colt. I’m kind of delirious with blood loss right now, so the least you can do is not yell at me and ask me politely to slate this conversation for later,” she said firmly, wincing while she shifted on the couch.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” he panted, shrugging his stained black thermal off. He tossed it to the side, revealing his equally as bloodied white tee.

He slipped that shirt off, too, tearing the shirt into long strips.

Raquel watched him, her brown eyed gaze one of both confusion and something more he couldn’t place and didn’t care to think about.

Wordlessly, he plopped back down, tying the shredded strips above the wound on her calf, fingertips grazing her skin as delicately as he could manage.

He let his hands linger for a bit too long, staring at the open wound on her leg.

Daring a look her way, Colt caught her watching him with a soft gaze, one that he hadn’t earned.

“You’re not mad at me for being there tonight… you’re mad at yourself for not protecting me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded once.

“You’re hoping that this makes me want to leave, because you won’t ask me yourself. You don’t want me to leave.”

He nodded again, glancing away from her.

After a long silence and avoidance of turning her way, she spoke first.

“You’re worried I don’t feel the same.”

He froze, dropping his hands from her leg. She was right, but if he admitted to it and she still didn’t feel the same, then what was he risking all this shit for?

Why was he still clinging onto the hope that she’d feel the same if nine years of pining was seconds away from being thrown out the window?

Mustering up his remaining courage, he nodded one last time.

And when he looked at her that time, she was beaming. Through the excruciating pain, she was smiling.

He broke first, scooting to the edge of his chair to get as close as he could. “What?”

“It’s funny that you were worried we weren’t on the same page. I think we might’ve been for a long time,” she laughed, hoarse and weak, but it was still her laugh that he loved so much.

“What do you mean?”

And then she said the words that he’d desperately needed to hear for nearly a decade.

“I came for Logan but I stayed for you.”

Once Raquel admitted that to him, he was all in. Completely committed, never faltering.

Their first kiss was anything but, the sensation one of nine years of pent up feelings from Colt’s end, and years of her own. Their first kiss was more of a sealant of their future (and their fate).

Their first kiss was everything Colt had dreamed of. 

He kissed her like she was air and he was drowning and she was filling his lungs to the brim, her warmth spreading from his insides out.

She didn’t pull away after the first one, and neither did he.

For who knew how long, he was on his knees next to the bloodied couch, cupping her face with his palms, and kissing her like he had a decade of missed opportunities to make up for.

After that, they were inseparable.

And he never doubted her devotion to him again.

They fell into a routine of working at the shop together during the day and into the late hours of the night after everyone had left, before stumbling upstairs into Colt’s apartment, lips locked, hands roaming.

And she drove him to every job from then on, easily evading cops and maneuvering the underbelly of L.A. like it was second nature.

Colt waded into the warm water, barely feeling it as it lapped at his ankles, calves, thighs.

When he was waist deep, he opted to float on his back, using the opportunity to revel in the star littered sky. One he didn’t get to see too often in the heavily light polluted sky of Los Angeles. Was this really the same sky he’d lived under all these years?

He didn’t really plan on marrying Raquel.

It was never in the sleazy way where he was going to leave her the second he got what he wanted – he was content being with her. Living with her. Kissing her. Loving her.

But he didn’t think he needed to go through the motions because that’s supposedly what people in love did. He figured it was enough to spend his life with her without doing all the extra shit.

She brought it up first, nearly four years later.

At that point, he moved into her father’s house with her – they’d crash in Colt’s old apartment above the shop if they were too tired to drive home.

They were curled up on the old futon in his room, huddling under the blankets, and she was curled against his side, drawing circles through his short tuft of chest hair. 

“We should get married.”

“Hmm?” He asked, in a haze, nearly drifting off to sleep before she’d spoken.

“You heard me.”

“You really wanna?”

“Well, yeah. I’ve always wanted to get married, even when I was a little girl.”

He kissed the top of her head, squeezing her closer.

“You’ve always been a daydreamer then,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, I used to dig up my old Easter dresses and strut into the living room asking my Dad to walk me down the aisle.”

“And did he?”

She laughed, lifting her head to get a good look at him. “Yep. Walked me right down the hallway and back to my room to change me out of my clothes.”

Her face fell a bit despite the fond memory. “I think I care more about it now because I know my parents won’t be there. It feels like if I don’t get married, I’m breaking a promise, as dumb as that sounds.”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t sound dumb at all, sweetheart. I don’t care what we do as long as it makes you happy.”

She smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss on his lips. “I love you.”

Wrapping her up in a hug, he kisses her back with fervor, echoing her sentiment in the form of mumbling against her lips. I love you.

Roughly a year later, they opted for a quick courthouse wedding and a honeymoon that consisted of staying in bed all day and ordering food to build back the calories they’d burned.

Around that time, Raquel reconnected with some of her only living relatives on her Dad’s side. She’d gotten close to a few of her distant cousins, and they convinced her to have a small ceremony for their family in Belize.

And fifteen years after he’d met Raquel, on the cusp of spring and summer, he married her again in front of an intimate crowd and kissed her like it was their first time.

He’d complained about having to ass kiss her judgemental old relatives, but he didn’t really mind. Seeing her in a white dress, beaming like it was the best day of her life, was enough to make any issue nothing but a minor annoyance.

“Hey!”

Colt swirled his arms in the water till he was upright again, grinning when he noticed the bright red lines on her face – she’d clearly just woken up.

“Hey, sweetheart. You sleep okay?”

“Come back to bed,” she asked, pointing at the back door of their beach house.

He tipped his chin at her. “You come out here.”

She rolled her eyes, before tearing off her nightgown, running towards the water at full speed, no hesitation.

He caught her in his arms, letting her wrap her legs comfortably around his waist while he waded out to deeper waters.

“Ugh. I was having a good dream, too, until I realized the bed was empty,” she grumbled, looping her arms tighter around his neck.

“Sorry about that. I promise next time I’ll wake you up before I head out.”

She nodded, content with his answer.

They were both chest deep in the water, faces close, the soft rays from the moon the only light they had.

“Why’d you bring me out here, Colt?” She murmured, eyes flitting to his lips, which were upturned in a soft smile.

“I was just thinking. This spring makes fifteen years since I met you.”

She hugged him, pressing a kiss on his cheek. “And only, like, six years since we came to our senses.”

He laughed heartily, squeezing her tighter around the waist. “You’re right.”

“Remember when we jumped off the cliff together?” He asked.

“Yeah, of course. It was the first time I ever felt a spark with you,” she grinned. “Took a long time for it to turn into a flame, though.”

“That was the first time I knew I loved you,” he admitted. “I wanted to kiss you so badly and I kicked myself in the ass for years for not trying –”

She cut him off with a passionate kiss, her tongue slipping into his mouth almost as soon as his mouth moved in tandem with hers. It was the sloppy, unplanned kiss he’d envisioned for that day.

“I think everything worked out for the better. I’m not sure we were ready for each other back then,” she said honestly, her forehead pressed against his.

“We needed to grow a little bit before falling in love, huh? You’re so smart,” he said, voice low, pressing another kiss to her lips.

“Yeah, and now we’ve got the rest of our lives.”

She was right (like she always was), and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge in his chest like he’d felt many times before.

He’d waited that damn long for her, so he was going to savor the rest of their life together as much as he could.

[magnus-the-maqnificent]

Not the anon. But can you share your thoughts™ on malec soulmates please 😇

Sorry this took a while to get to I had to untangle them thoughtsTM (how tf did you make that superscript) like a pair of earphones. (Also I had to study 🥲)

Okay so... Are Malec soulmates?

Short answer - yes bitch YES

Long answer -

First of all... what even are soulmates? Like, they’re people who fit together, who work well together, right? They bring out the best of each other, and each is practically home for the other(s). A soulmate bond (a metaphorical bond obviously) is basically just... the closest you can bring two hearts together, be it romantically or platonically. And Malec basically fits the bill. They’re an amazing team, and once they get past their initial bumpy road of lack of communication, they can read each other like the back of their palms. They’re literally taking the world by storm. And the amount of love they have for each other... I seriously can’t put it in words, and I hope no one ever asks me to 😭

Secondly, the question of personalities. Which... honestly don’t really matter lmao... Atleast in my opinion. Like... two people can have the exact same personalities but it won’t mean shit unless you communicate and sometimes you just don’t click. At the end of the day, all you need is to feel a connection with the other person(s) and Magnus and Alec, despite their completely opposing personalities have a very, very strong connection. (Also they have the whole Angel/demon justice/mercy ying-and-yang black-and-white kinda aesthetic going on might as well make it more poetic and throw in ‘soulmates’ too.) Oh! And I like to believe that their opposite personalities complement each other very well - I like to believe that Magnus does the small talk for the both of them, for example. And they both learn a lot from each other, always taking pages out of the other’s books. It’s like... two amazing things coming together to create something much more amazing... like the way the vocals and instruments of a song work together to create something beautiful.

Third... the whole fate thing. Is fate even a thing? Can two people be fated to be together? I think... yes? I mean, what are the chances that out of seven billion people, several thousand acquaintances, it happens to be for this/these particular person/people that your heart and mind just go ‘THEM’? What are the chances of two people being roommates, becoming friends, becoming lovers, etc? But... and I’m completely going off on a tangent here, but what if there’s several universes? Would your soulmate(s) be the same in all the universes, or would you have different soulmates in different universes? If that one theory about how your choices can create completely different parallel universes is true, then wouldn’t your choices to stay with your soulmate in this universe potentially jeopardise your relationship with them in the other universe, thus potentially giving way to a completely different soulmate in the second universe?

Idk about all that, but the universe thing for Malec is... clearly a no. See: Thule!malec (yeeeaahhhh they died but they died together and that counts right?), s1ep10 of the show, and that one quote from one of the books that I distinctly remember that’s from Alec’s POV and is something about how he and Magnus would find their way to each other in any universe. (I can’t remember where it is from tho aisjsksjsksks). And the fate part... well... fate is basically like... the path of your life, written by a higher hand, by something greater. And... well... in Malec’s case... their story was quite literally written by a higher hand (hello, Miss Clare! :D) and seeing as they were intended to be together from the very start... yeah I’d say it’s fate. (SHHHHHH MY LOGIC MAKES SENSE OKAY)

Fourth, thinking about soulmates reminds me of this thing from Hindu mythology, where two Gods (Lakshmi and Vishnu) are married, and sometimes they choose to be reincarnated as humans on earth, and in every single one of their rebirths, they seek out each other, they choose to live together, and even if their stories end in tragedy, one day their time on earth runs out and they always return ‘home’, to each other. And... that’s pretty much what being soulmates is, right? To always choose them. Magnus could’ve easily given up on Alec, could’ve chosen to ‘protect’ his heart rather than be vulnerable around him. Alec could’ve easily chosen not to get back together with Magnus, could’ve chosen to live a simple predictable shadowhunter life. But they always choose the other, and they’ve made a home together. And no matter what happens, at the end of the day, they both know that they can go home and find the other waiting for them. They freely chose each other, and they made themselves soulmates.

Fifth, I once saw someone describe Malec as the ‘we made it through’ couple of tmi, and honestly? I couldn’t agree more. Magnus and Alec have had their fair share of internal and external conflicts, have been through three wars, two trips to hell, one demonic cult, and they’re still standing strong. The whole world could be against them and they’d still be standing, defiant, never letting go of each other’s hands, and I think that’s very sexy of them. And now I shall circle back and bring up the soulmates myth of the red string of fate that goes ‘the string can tangle and knot but it will never break’. The string, the relationship, will never break. Soulmates always make it through the wringer. And malec made it through.

Lastly, Magnus was Alec’s only romance, so i guess it goes without saying that Magnus is Alec’s soulmate. But what about the other way round? Magnus has had several great loves throughout his long immortal life, and he may have several more after Alec. However, it’s clear that marriage was never in the cards for his past loves, but since marriage isn’t the height of love, I’ll just let that one slide. But, it’s been implied in rsom that several of Magnus’s insecurities stem from his past lovers, and we know that very few of them stayed till the end. I was rereading tbc the other day, and in the first story, right after the break up with Imasu, Magnus thinks about how there could never be peace for ‘someone like him’... and then fast forward to the eighth story, where he see just how much peace Magnus found with Alec, despite knowing him for only a few weeks. From what we’ve seen, it’s clear that the unconditional love and acceptance that Magnus found from Alec was unlike any other, which is why I firmly believe that Alec is Magnus’s soulmate too.

This... got way longer than I intended. If atleast 1% of it makes sense I’ll be glad ajshsjsjksks 😅😅😅

TL;DR, Yes, Magnus and Alec are soulmates.

[thiswasinevitableid]

if you’re still taking meet ugly asks, could you do 01 or 13 for sternclay? nsfw please

Here you go! I went with 1.

we were set up on a blind date but it went horribly, so now you message me every time you have a good date because you think your tips will help me in the future, you ass.

Bzzbzz

Joseph picks up his phone and regrets it before he’s even done reading the waiting message.

Barclay: See, this is how you dress for a date at a casual place.

It’s accompanied by a photo of a headless torso, sporting a Ramones T-shirt and blue jeans.

He deletes the message. He told that asshole he was in the suit because Hayes kept him late to finish a report and he didn’t want to be any more behind for their date than he already was.

No, you know what, he’s had enough of this.

J.S: He’s dressed like a college student. No one told me you were a cradle robber.

Barclay: Just trying to help you do better next time ;)

This is the same line he gives Joseph every time he sends one of these texts

“It was great, it felt like a real conversation instead of an interrogation.”

“See, what made tonight nice was he didn’t look at his phone even once.”

“Now, what made this nice is that he didn’t mistake another guy for me on the way in.”

He has reasons, explanations, things that could make him look more like a man who had a bad day and less like the poster boy for the horrors of blind dating. But the one time he tried sharing his side of things, Barclay responded that he wasn’t doing this to make sense of their shitty date, but to make it easier on the next guy.

It was the last date in a long line of increasingly desperate attempts by his loved ones to find someone, anyone, for him to be with; being married to his work fills all his needs. Leave it to his older sister to spot that it wasn’t meeting many of his wants.

Joseph tosses the phone away, retrieves his take-out leftovers from the fridge. As he munches reheated green mango chicken, the city heading out into Friday night revelry without him, he decides that while he’s not about to take dating advice from a guy who can’t pull his head out of his ass long enough to consider someone else’s perspective, Barclay makes one good point: there’s always a next time.

And there’s no moment like the present to start planning for it.

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

Barclay cannot figure out why Logan chose this spot; it’s one step above gay cruising club. Not that he hasn’t had fun at those before, but he was hoping for somewhere quieter. Also somewhere with better food; you can tell a lot about a guy by what he orders, and fuck all about him when the only meal to be found is chips or the olive from a martini glass.

Still not the worst date he’s been on.

As Logan steers the conversation in promisingly steamy directions, Barclay glances at the bar and locks eyes with his biggest disappointment of the year. Joseph raises an eyebrow, then his face goes annoyingly neutral as he looks first at Logan and then to the bartender for another glass.

His date excuses himself and Barclay weighs how much of a dick he wants to be against how good Joseph looks tonight. He’s in a v-neck and a short jacket, dark-wash jeans making it easy to picture how satisfying hooking his legs over Barclays shoulders would be.

Barclay sidles up to the bar, leaning on it and smiling at Joseph, “You finally decide to put my advice to good use?”

“No.” Joseph replies, tarter than a cherry, and goes back to looking at his phone.

“Suit yourself, and have fun going home alone.”

The black-haired man squares his shoulders, turns so that Barclay gets a full-on view of a stunning face and sharp, blue eyes, “At least I won’t be going home with someone who’s using me for a prank video.”

“Pfft, whatever man, you’re just-” Barclay snaps his mouth shut as Joseph turns his phone, showing a Youtube channel hosted by none other than Logan.

“His modus operandi is to have viewers vote on which gay man he should go out with and string along the whole night until he reveals he’s straight.”

“I, I uh, that’s” his heart is in his shoes, “that’s not very nice.”

“That’s not all. There are three cameras recording your date.” Joseph points to three separate guys, “they’re using their phones, makes it hard to prove they’re not just texting or something else innocuous.”

He might cry. Worse, if he cries, he might owe Joseph an explanation.

“There you are baby, thought you’d run off.” Logan sets a hand on his arm and Barclay freezes, trying to work out a non-humiliating form of escape.

Joseph clears his throat, “Are you aware that recording people without their permission is illegal in this state?”

“Uh, no, but what the fuck does that have to do with me?”

“You, and those three gentleman you’re having film Mr. Cobb here, are all at risk of being charged with a misdemeanor.” Joseph’s voice is smooth and clear, utterly in control, and Barclay gets goosebumps as he pulls out his wallet and flashes an FBI badge, “I suggest you get out of here before you do something you regret.”

The quartet disappears in a cloud of body spray as Barclay slumps onto a stool and Joseph orders two more drinks, sliding one his way. Whiskey Soda, his favorite. He’d ordered it during their date.

They sip in silence for three songs before Joseph says, “I guess I passed the dubious honor of your worst date onto someone else.”

“You’re still a strong runner up.” It’s mean, but Barclay isn’t feeling very chipper right now.

“Oh come on, I wasn’t that bad! I was trying to learn as much about you as I could while switching from work mode to a date.”

“You made me feel like I was doing all the work!”

“If you’d given me more than a half hour of your time I could have fixed that.”

“Nah, I know when a date is doomed. No point in dragging it out. It wasn’t going to be fun.”

“I can be fun!” Joseph knocks back the rest of his drink, “I’ll prove it.”

Barclay snorts, “how?”

“I want a do over. Right now.” Lights dance across his skin and Barclay gets a whiff of gin and mint as he leans so they’re almost nose to nose, “Unless you’re afraid you’ll be the dud this time.”

“You’re on.” Barclay growls, “but don’t get your hopes up.”

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

Either his pillow sprouted fur overnight, or Joseph isn’t where he should be.

He cracks his eyes open, squinting in the muted, grey light sneaking in under the curtains. The room, while tidy, isn’t his, and the clock on the wall tells him he’s starting his Saturday out with oversleeping.

Barclay is sound asleep beside him, his broad, hairy chest rising and falling soothingly. A cursory peek under the blankets shows he’s a naked as Joseph is. As the agent slips from the bed and hunts down his clothes, he starts to remember why.

They’d done something in the club bathroom, a blow-job, that’s right, and the instant Barclay dragged him into his apartment Joseph shoved him onto the bed, yanked his pants off, and returned the favor. He remembers, as he surrenders to going commando rather than wear his pre-cum stained boxer briefs, wanting to sleep with his head on Barclay’s stomach, cum still on his lips, but the cook made a very convincing argument to come up and kiss him instead.

His pants are back on when his phone lights up from it’s spot on the floor.

Alert: Snowstorm predicted to last until 5 pm Sunday. Travel limited, recommended for emergencies only. At least five feet of snow predicted.

“Shit” he whispers, pushing the curtain aside to discover a world of smooth, white roof tops and impassable streets.

Jinglejingle

He spins, startled, as what he thought was a black pillow shakes out it’s ears and rises from a cushion at the foot of the bed. It’s the single most absurd dog he’s ever seen, like someone smushed a corgi and a Rottweiler together. It blinks at him, cocks it’s head, and then shifts its attention to the bed.

“Please don’t jump.” Maybe he can still sneak out on foot, or find somewhere else to wait out the storm.

The dog launches it’s tubular body onto Barclay, who “oofs” and is laughing before he even opens his eyes.

“Hey boy, yeah, I know, I know, didn’t let you in until way after bedtime.” The cooks deep voice is scratchy with sleep. The dog wiggles and digs at the blankets on his chest as he turns his head, smiling Joseph’s way, “morning babe.”

“Good morning.” Throwing himself out the window would result in hypothermia. Also a broken ankle. So no luck there.

Barclay notices his jeans, “Oh, uh, if you need to go that’s cool. I, uh” he yawns “I have a policy of making breakfast after a hook-up, but if you’re in a hurry I can just get you some coffee for the road. C’mon Sass, let me up.”

“I, um, I can stay. I don’t have much choice.”

“What do you--oh fuck, I knew we were getting snow this weekend but no one said anything about a fucking blizzard. Guess you’re crashing here for the weekend.”

“I guess so.”

Barclay’s smile shrinks, “Is that a shitty outcome?”

“No! Or, um, I just” Joseph sits on the bed, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t want to impose. I was trying to get out of here so I wouldn’t make things awkward since I, um, I don’t do this much.”

“Gotta say that was kinda obvious.” It’s a gentle tease, Barclay’s fingers flipping through his phone, “huh, when did I take a video last night?”

“I think you--oh, oh my lord.” Joseph claps his hands over his mouth, blushing at the memory.

“What, did I talk you into karaoke or somethi--holy fuck.” Barclay scoots to where Joseph is frozen, holding the screen where they can both see it. The same face growing excited beside him is looking up at the camera, lips wrapped around Joseph’s cock as a voice urges him on.

“You like that, big guy?”

Barclay nods, pulls off so he can drag his tongue up the shaft with a grin. Then he swallows it almost to the base, Joseph’s hand flying past the lens to stifle a moan.

“That’s it, show me how much you like it, s-so the next time you feel like sending me a snarky text you can watch this and remember just how much fucking fun you had sucking my dickAH.” A laugh as Barclay sits back on his heels, pulling off the condom.

“C’mon blue eyes, bet, bet you’re gonna look great when you cum, fuck, think I ruined these pants just watching you. Heh, you like that, like getting me hard and wet on the fucking bathroom floor.”

“Usually it’s, it’s the other waAAaay aroundohfuck, shit.” Cum spatters across Barclay’s face. The cook licks his lips, still smiling, as the camera sinks to his level, Joseph giggling behind it, “here, let, let me clean you up.”

“Don’t want everyone else to see your cum all over me?"

“Nngn. I, I mean no, not in actuality.” Joseph’s hand returns to the frame, gently cleaning Barclay’s cheek with toilet paper.

The video ends there. Joseph is red from his hips to his cheeks, but not so embarrassed that he misses Barclay rubbing his thighs together. Then the cook meets his eyes and sets the phone aside.

“I can delete it. Know your face isn’t in it but if you’re more comfortable with it gone, it’s gone.”

The offer alone calms him, “No, no it’s okay. Thank you for offering. I, um, since I’ll be here awhile, can I use your shower?”

“Sure, it’s just through there.” He tips his head at the door in the left wall, grabbing a robe from the door and heading into the chilly apartment, Sass clickclick-ing on the hardwood after him.

As always, the world is more manageable when he’s clean. A pair of sweatpants and a thick, blue sweater are waiting for him on the bed, and coffee-swirled air coaxes him into the kitchen. It’s small but immaculately organized, Barclay moving from stove to cabinet to fridge and back again in an intimate dance.

“Coffee on the left is yours. I’m doing pancetta in the omelettes; most of my friends are vegetarian so I never get a chance to bust it out.”

“That sounds delicious.” He picks up the mug, sighs as warms his chest, “mmm, you have real cream somewhere in this house.”

“Yep. Remember you said you liked the real stuff when you could get it. I drink mine black, but really these beans demand cream instead of milk; sets of the chocolate notes really nice.”

“I can never taste those. Same thing with wine. But I guess that’s why you’re the professional and I’m not.”

“That’s more a happy coincidence. I got into this to help with the bills when I was in high school. I wasn’t, like, combining flavors and deciding to be a cook like in Ratatouille or something.”

“That’s a Pixar movie, right?”

“Only the best one ever made. Have you really not seen it?

“I, um, I only watch kids movies if I’m babysitting my niece. Which doesn’t happen as often as I’d like.”

“Well, now I know what we’re doing after breakfast. Ah ah, Sass, not for you.” He shoos the dog from where it’s valiantly trying to double in length to reach the table.

“Is his name short for something?”

“Sasquatch.”

“Awwww.” Joseph crouches down to scritch behind one, floppy ear.

“His whole litter was named for cryptids; Nessie, Champ, Yeti, stuff like that.”

“‘Bray’ feels like an obvious one.” He smiles, then remembers not everyone is a nerdy UP agent, “sorry, never mind.”

“Uh uh special agent, I’ve been waiting to ask you about this. You don’t get to say you’re ‘like Fox Mulder’ and then not share more.” Barclay pulls out his chair, kisses his head when he sits down. He then listens to Joseph expound on canine cryptids of the midwest for fifteen minutes, fascinated the entire time.

“Y’know, I had a line cook who swore he’d been abducted by aliens.”

“What was his proof?”

By the time their plates are clean, Joseph has generated three alternative explanations and Barclay is staring at him with an expression straight from a rom-com. The cook sets up the movie while Joseph does the dishes, then pulls him under a mound of blankets.

“The heat in this place is shit, but I promise I’ll keep you warm.”

He enjoys the movie plenty, the weight of Barclay’s arm over his shoulder and, eventually, his waist, even more. They watch Ramen Girl for the hell of it, spooning on the couch while the snow makes dunes out of the sidewalk.

When the second movie is done, Joseph rolls so he’s facing the cook, “What should we do now?”

“Could keep watching movies, or bake something. I’ve got some cards and a few games in the closet. Or we could just cuddle and talk. I’m good with whatever.”

“...Could I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“You’ve been so sweet all day. Why were you such an ass about our first date?”

Barclay shifts, discomfort entering his eyes, “I was having a shitty week and was hoping the date would make me feel better. I ended up so anxious after it, felt like you wanted to be somewhere else, that I kinda took my frustration out by being a dick. I’m sorry. I, um, I wasn’t even on that many dates between now and then; I’d just text you what I’d wished had happened to fuck with you.”

“I should’ve known it; no one has that many good dates in a row.”

“Sorry.”

Joseph cups his cheek, “And I’m sorry for making you feel that way the first time. I had my reasons but, well, you still had a bad time because I was flustered and couldn’t get my mind off work.”

“Think you’ve more than made up for it.”

“Can I try again anyway?” Joseph kisses him, slipping his fingers under the waistband of his sweats.

Barclay’s lips curve up, “Bedroom?”

“Bedroom.”

Once Barclay is comfortably naked atop the blankets (space heater pointed at the bed all the while), Joseph asks if he has any condoms.

“Yeah, bathroom cabinet. But I’m not, uh, I don’t-”

“It’s not for penetration. You said last night that was a no for you.” In the reflection of the bathroom mirror, he watches him relax. If he ever finds out someone saw the tension in those muscles, heard the worry in that sweet, deep voice and pushed anyway, he’s going to set them on fire with his mind.

Barclay nestles his cheek on his pillow as Joseph fishes his swiss army knife from his jacket, puts his ass in the air and wiggles it expectantly as Joseph unrolls the cut latex.

“Is this okay?”

“Uh huh, I really love it when guys do this but, uh, it doesn’t happen much. The hair turns a lot of them off.”

“Cowards.” Joseph holds the makeshift dam in place. Barclay’s chuckle morphs into a moan as he presses his face between his asscheeks, tongue making an obscene sound against the latex. There’s a warmth to this angle that he loves, a tender sort of filthiness to the way Barclay pushes his ass back with little gasps of his name.

He doesn’t get to practice his technique often, but that makes it all the more pleasurable to re-acquaint himself with it now, find the ways of pressing and curving his tongue that make Barclay’s ass tense under his hands.

“Fuck, fuck, Joseph, I take it all back, every rude text, you’re gonna drive every date you get crazy, gonna make them wonder how they got so lucky to get someone so goddamn wild.”

“I don’t think I will. I think” Joseph kisses the small of his back, “I think it’s you. You bring it out in me, you make me want to do all the things I’d be ashamed to ask for the rest of the time.”

Barclay whimpers happily.

“I’m serious. There’s something about you, I feel like I can want what I want without shame.” He nips his right cheek once, gently, “or maybe it’s just that what I really want is you and everything else finds into line because of it.”

“Fuuuck, baby, please.” Barclays weight shifts as Joseph eats him out ever more messily, “wanna, wanna make you feel good.” He’s rubbing his dick, Joseph can tell by the sound.

“May I?”

“Uhhuh, fuck, c’mere” Barclay grabs him as soon as they’re both sitting up, “was gonna pound you into next week but I dont wanna waste time with the harness right now.”

“Then we can do that tomorrowAH, ohlord” his hand stutters on it’s way to Barclay’s cock as calloused fingers circle is dick, “god there is not a part of you that disappoints, you’re just a wet dream from top to bottom.”

“Aw, babe.” Barclay kisses his shoulder, groaning as Joseph thumbs his dick, “fuck, speaking of, you gonna tell me what you meant in the stall last night? About things being ‘the other way around.”

Now it’s his turn to hide his face, “Promise you won’t think I’m dirty?”

“Babe, your mouth was on my ass a minute ago. You’re dirty and I fucking love it.”

“I, um, I, when I travel for missions I look for, for places that have glory holes.”

“Oh fuck” Barclay ruts against his palm, “that’s a fucking amazing image blue eyes. You on your knees, trying to keep that fucking suit clean while a fucking parade of guys shove their dicks down your throat.”

“I, it’s an easy way for me to get off, I can edge myself until I’m done and then cum without anyone being the wise but, god, half the time I’d think about this, want this.” He speeds up his strokes, pumps his cock into Barclay’s fist.

“What, a hairy trans guy?” Barclay bumps their noses together.

“This” his free hand glides along Barclays arm where it’s holding him, “s-someone to see me, hold onto me, fuck the whole of me and not just the acceptable, easy part. But” he meets brown eyes, teases slick skin, “I, the other times I fucked someone like this it, it was like I was still in that fucking stall. Last night, today, I’m here, I want to be and I am.”

“Baby.” The word comes in a sweet rumble of understanding just as Joseph cums with a gasp. He holds on for dear life as Barclay joins their hands and guides his fingers along his dick, forces his mind to memorize the movements and shapes for next time.

Barclay cums with a groan, flinging his hands up to cup Joseph's head and kiss him. There’s cum on his arm, on Joseph’s fingers and now in his hair and he cannot bring himself to give a shit. Gradually the kisses trail to his cheeks, his neck, his collarbone, and then Barclay is nestling his head under his chin.

“I, um, I think it might have been a good thing. That first date. I can be overly focused on work, can forget to turn off the special agent questioning mode and just talk like a person. I’m glad you saw those parts of me and, um, and decided to give me another chance.”

“Hey, you saw that I could be kinda sensitive and stubborn when I think someone did something wrong and you still saved my ass from being humiliated on the internet.” Barclay sighs as Joseph pets his hair.

“Do you, um, want to keep getting to know each other? Good parts and bad?”

Barclay looks up at him. Sees him.

“Yeah, blue eyes, I do.”

[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | 33

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst

; Word Count: 6.1k

; Warnings: Discussion of car accident, brief sexual content mention, depiction of a PTSD/panic attack

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: This is a bit earlier than usual but I want to get it out while it was done and I was feeling okay about it...work and job rejections have been hitting ol’ self-confidence hard so writing is a bit tougher than normal. I’ve gone through this for grammar but I haven’t properly proof read. I hope you all enjoy this though and please send me comments and feedback so I know what you think! I love to read them and it helps to boost me :)

; Flower Masterpost

-

Straightening up, you winced before rubbing at the small of your back before stretching. It was summer, which meant the sun was shining strongly. As much as you like the sun, you weren’t so much of a fan when you knelt in the grass for hours on end. The sunhat on your head helped a little, as did the sunglasses but your skin was shiny with the veneer of sweat.

You were hot, and with a deep sigh, you wiped across your forehead with your arm. The thick gardening gloves on your hands were covered in dirt and compost, keeping your hands clean but also making them incredibly warm. As much as you enjoyed gardening, it felt like a chore in the heat of a summer’s day.

But at least you had some company for your misery today. Your mom was knelt next to you, leaning forward and diligently weeding her beloved flowers. Hoseok and you had come over for the day, intending to feast yourselves on your dad’s famous pot roast before heading home with a bag full of leftovers that would be eaten at work.

Watching your mom closely for a moment, you felt a surge of warmth and love for her. You never really noticed how much older she looked now; the lines on her face that were deepening and the greys in her hair that were multiplying more than you liked. It was easy to miss the passage of time on your parents when you weren’t paying attention too closely, but now that you stopped and looked at her closely you could see it.

You hoped she was happy with how her life had turned out. Even if it wasn’t the best, that’s all you wanted for your parents. To be happy and proud of you.

“So, what’s your plan for your yard? Are you going to get that porch built that you wanted? I wouldn’t bother trying to do any of your gardens and flowers at the moment. Unless you’re planning on planting flowers that will bloom in autumn and winter. Though there are some pretty ones. I’ll have a look online for you and find the best ones if you want? Maybe we can get your garden looking all nice together, a little mother-daughter bonding time.” Smiling at her, you nod your head slowly.

“Sounds good. Though we haven’t bought it yet. Officially. I mean, they’ve accepted our offer but now it’s all that legal stuff, you know? So I don’t feel too comfortable changing anything just yet, just in case anything goes wrong.” There’s a slight hesitance to your tone. So small that you don’t even realise it’s there, but your mom recognises it.

Sitting up, she stretches as well before shifting until she’s sitting cross-legged and facing you. There’s a wince on her face from overused joints that are ageing but she doesn’t complain, instead just looking at you intently.

“What’s wrong? I can tell there’s something. Is there something wrong with the house or anything like that?” It’s amazing how easily she picks up on things like but she did raise you. Cleaned you up when you were younger and you fell over, taught you everything you know and helped to make sure you grew to be the best version of yourself.

“No. No, there’s nothing wrong with the house. Or with Hoseok, before you ask. It’s just...I feel a little stressed. Or worried rather worried that’s better. More accurate. It’s just...a house, you know? It’s a big purchase, really expensive and it’s permanent. If anything happens with Hoseok and me then we have to go through the whole process of selling it and splitting the proceeds. And then we have to move out and I wouldn’t have a home anymore and-” The gentle pressure of your mom’s hand on your arm causes you to pause.

She has a gentle smile on her face and an understanding expression which soothes whatever frayed nerves you have. This is probably one of the few times you wouldn’t feel comfortable talking about this issue with Hoseok, being too worried he might take offence or something. But your mom understood.

“Sometimes...I think you get way too caught up in your thoughts. I want you to consider something, okay? Yes, it might all fall apart and it might not work out. But what if it does work out? What if everything is perfect and you get a nice house? And then Hoseok proposes and you get married. Then in fifty years, you can be telling your grandchildren all about meeting their grandad and falling in love in your lovely home.” Snorting slightly, you can’t help but roll your eyes slightly as your lips quirk.

“We’re not having kids, remember?” She makes an expression indicating she’s remembering what you’d told her. Your parents hadn’t been surprised to find out Hoseok didn’t want kids either. If anything, they’d been pleased because they knew how much you wanted to remain childfree.

“Yes, yes, but you know what I mean. Sometimes you just have to go with it. Enjoy your life in the moment sweetheart, you’ve spent far too long focusing on the negative aspects of life in my opinion. Just...take the time to enjoy the fact that you’re able to buy a house with the man you love and who loves you back. I can’t predict the future or anything but...I think you’re both going to be happy. So just focus on that, okay? You’ve got a nice little house to work on together, two cars, a cute cat, a good job and a great relationship. Focus on the positives.” Letting go of your arm, she took your hand before squeezing in reassurance.

Taking a deep breath, you let it out slowly before shifting and reaching out to carry on gardening. You know that your mom is right, but it’s still a worry that buzzes in your stomach continuously. That something will go wrong and you’ll have no home along with no Hoseok.

The very thought of not having Hoseok in your life anymore makes your breath stutter, lungs freezing until you’re pressing a hand against your chest to try and coax them back to life. One of the reasons you’d been so nervous about getting into a serious relationship had been because you were terrified of falling in love only to have it all stolen from you.

It still scared you, the idea that one day you might wake up alone and that you’d never see or talk to him again. But that was just because you loved him so much that the very idea of not being with him anymore hurt. You wondered if Hoseok felt the same, deep emotions that you did.

“I know...I know. I can’t help it, you know? I’m trying, I promise. Hoseok’s finally convinced me to give therapy a try. The antidepressants are working well but I still have moments, you know? I don’t feel entirely settled and this whole house thing is getting me a little stressed. Not because of the house itself but...just everything it symbolises. So I’ve got an appointment for one next month, the earliest I could get.” Shrugging, you smile at her before digging back into the soil to make a hole for the flowers your mom had bought.

“Good, I’m glad. I hope it works. My advice to you is to just take everything a day at a time, okay? It’ll all work out for you.” There’s a quiet reassurance in her words and you can’t help but relax, knowing that for now at least you can just enjoy yourself without any negative thoughts.

A loud groan leaves her as she stretches once more, a loud crack emanating from her back as her bones move and you wince slightly. Reaching over, you rub at her back soothingly and laugh as she lets out a deep sigh before thanking you.

“Okay, finish that flower off and then we’ll head inside. My back is killing me and I just want to sit down for a bit.” Nodding at her, you let her go before finishing off the flowerbed and packing up all the gardening stuff into the small shed your dad had built last year. 

Hands grasping at your waist cause you to shriek in surprise, spinning around and getting ready to push at the intruder. The sight of your boyfriend, his expression full of mischief, causes you to relax to the point your eyes are rolling.

“Hoseok! God, I thought you were some rando.” Hissing, you push lightly at his stomach and pout. A tiny bit of an over-reaction but if you couldn’t be dramatic with Hoseok then who could you be? He knew you weren’t truly bothered by his playfulness, especially when you leaned into his body a little.

“Bit weird for a rando to be in your parent’s backyard,” His arms slide around you, hugging you tightly and practically moulding your back to his front. “But no, it’s just your loveable weirdo.”

Snorting, you continue to carefully put away everything into their specified areas. Your mom liked things to look neat and tidy at all times now, which meant you were having to find where everything belonged. Otherwise, you’d get a phone call that would result in you being berated for leaving the shed messy.

“Is the door finished then?” Hoseok had volunteered to help your dad repaint the front door and start varnishing the porch steps. That had been around three hours ago, so you could only assume that not only were they finished but that he was probably famished. You’d discovered he seemed to have that stereotypical guy’s stomach in that it was a black hole which would eat anything and everything.

Burrowing his face into your neck, he hums in acknowledgement. Closing the drawer, you twist around until you can slip your arms around him in turn. Unlike the normal smell you’d come to adore, today he smelled of the overwhelmingly strong chemicals in the polish he’d used. It didn’t smell great and you wrinkled your nose, unhappy at the fact it wasn’t what you were used to but unwilling to move away from him.

“Thank you, for helping him. He’s been wanting that porch done for years now but his knees are so bad.” None of that is new information to Hoseok and you suspected that was why he’d volunteered to do it. To the point that he’d even headed out with your dad to the local DIY store to grab everything that they would need.

The look of happiness on your dad’s face when he’d realised that he was finally going to get one of his jobs finished had made you almost want to cry with emotion. You hadn’t though, but you were giving Hoseok a tight hug to convey your gratitude to him for being a good person. The quick kiss was just an afterthought, but he’d earned that too.

Wandering hands tell you that he’s more frisky than you’d thought he would be after the work he’d been doing, and it’s only when he squeezes a good handful of your ass that you pull away with laughter. While you still weren’t a big fan of your ass, it was still a little too big for your insecurities, Hoseok was very much a fan.

What some people call ‘an ass man’.

“Hoseok, come on. We have to go in and I am not doing anything with you in my parent’s shed. Plus, you got a blowjob this morning! I need to go help sort the vegetables out for dinner an-” Warm lips pressed against your own interrupt you, their softness making you give in almost instantly as you just enjoyed him.

Little butterflies were fluttering in your stomach as he just lazily kissed you, no urgency to his movements despite what you’d just said. Still, you didn’t push him away. He still remembered, even after over two years, that you enjoyed just kissing. Catching up on all the times you’d missed out on as a teenager and the intermittent years.

So you were loath to pull away from him; especially when he was doing what you imagined a loved-up teenage couple would do when out of sight of their parents. It was fun. Plus, Hoseok was a great kisser.

Finally, though, he stops and leans back to grin at you. It’s a testament to how much you are attracted to and love him with how strong the urge to drop to your knees for him right then and there. Maybe he could have two blowjobs in one day.

“Okay, we can go in now. Do you need help with the vegetables?” The way he changes the mood so quickly has you almost experiencing whiplash, eyes widening as you watch him turn around and walk out. Bringing a hand palm up, you squint at his back and mouth out ‘what the fuck?’ before following him.

By the time you manage to catch up to him, giving him a slightly sullen look even if you’d been the one to deny anything was going to happen, he’s already entering the house. The air is rich with the scent of slow-cooking pot roast and you sigh in contentment, heading into the kitchen.

“You can help if you want. Hey mom, it’s okay. We’ll do that for you.” Gently, you push her away from the counter and take the peeler from her hand. She looks between you both with a quizzical look, her lips quirked up into a half-smile when Hoseok just starts to wash his hands with no complaints before taking control of the carrots.

Thankfully, she doesn’t say anything except for thanks as she leaves you both to it. You get the strong feeling that she’s bemused he’s helping you without complaint or further prodding. As much as your dad likes to cook on occasion, he usually takes a little bit of convincing to get him to help out.

“Oh hey, there’s stuff to make my mom’s roast potatoes...do you want me to make them?” You don’t see the curious expression on your mom’s face as she tilts her head, watching as Hoseok lifts a bottle of soy sauce and the grinder full of black pepper. Instead, you’re too busy making an excited face at him as you nod eagerly.

“Oh my god, yes! My parents have never had them before. I think it’ll go well too as my dad always likes to put everything in the cupboard in his pot roast…”

-

“You know...you weren’t kidding when you said that there was a high chance that I could end up getting the shits from your dad’s pot roast. That was a spicy ass meal. God, it tasted so damn good though. I’m glad he made so much for us to take back.” Hoseok was sat, or rather slouched, in the passenger seat of your car.

A hand was resting on his stomach, which looked to be holding a significant food baby. Snorting with laughter, you nodded in agreement before grinning as he let his head loll on the backseat. You’d been telling him about your dad’s infamous pot roast for a long time now and he’d finally gotten to experience it. 

On top of that, your parents had been wowed by the roast potatoes Hoseok had made using his mom’s recipe. To the point that your mom had begged him to tell her how to make them, at which he’d made a big show about having to ask his mom for permission.

Somehow, that had all led to her calling his mom to formally ask for it. Even though Hoseok had been joking about it and fully intended to let her know how to make it. An hour after that, when you’d finally left after bidding your dad goodnight and with a bag full of leftover roast in Tupperware, your mom’s were still chattering away to each other.

You didn’t have too much experience with how parents were supposed to interact with each other but you were pretty sure becoming close friends wasn’t too normal. But again, you didn’t have any relevant experience here so maybe it was.

“Have you ever seen Step Brothers?” The question comes out of nowhere but Hoseok’s used to it by now. He doesn’t even look over at you in confusion or amusement, just answers you like you’d asked him what his favourite colour is.

“Yeah, why?”

“I think our moms just did that whole ‘did we become best friends?!’ thing.” Now he’s the one letting out a snort, his smile big enough that you can spot it out of the corner of your eye. He knows exactly what you mean, nodding even though you can’t see him properly.

“I think they did. You know, I’m not sure if this is a good or a bad thing. We’ll never be left alone now, you know that right?” Shrugging, you flex your fingers on the steering wheel and enjoy the texture of the leather beneath your hands. You were already approaching home, the roads quiet in the warm evening sun as everyone probably spent time in their yards.

“I like your mom. And I like my mom...sooo, I don’t see any problem with that.” Given you’re focusing on the road, you don’t notice the droll stare he gives you. Which is probably a good thing, because you’d just poke him if you had seen it.

“Are you kidding? Okay, maybe it’s just me that won’t be left alone then. I’ll never be able to do anything wrong. Whether it’s trivial or something serious.” There’s a serious whine to his voice and a glance over shows you that he’s pouting almost comically, causing you to giggle at his protruding lower lip. He may be a little dirty and sweaty from his day’s work, covered in tattoos and piercings but he just looked adorable.

“Well...I guess you’ll have to be on your best behaviour then, won’t you?”

“Very funny. I tell you, I’m going to hear about everything tiny thi-” He’s cut off by your loud cursing, the words coarse and filled with vitriol as you glare at the asshole who almost hit you. Slamming on the brake, you jerk forward hard as the car stops far quicker than you expected and the seat belt feels almost like it’s choking.

“Fucking hell, these brakes are sharper than I expected.” You exclaim, resting your hands in the perfect driving position on the wheel while letting out a deep breath to calm yourself. Glaring down the road, you note that the other car isn’t even there anymore and you can’t help yourself from flipping the bird in the air.

You were at the last intersection before your street, the opening just ahead of the traffic lights that had been green for you. Which meant that they had been red for whoever that ass was. It hadn’t stopped them from speeding as they ran their red, coming within inches of hitting your side of the car if you hadn’t braked so suddenly.

Shuddering, you crack your neck and wince as you rub at it, hoping you hadn’t caused yourself whiplash. Setting off again, you scowl before realising you were hearing a weird noise. Frowning deeply, you look over the display to see if any warning lights have come on before realising it’s coming from your side.

It takes one look to realise Hoseok is very much not okay. 

He’s paler than you’ve ever seen and that immediately startles you, but what’s even more worrying is the way he’s got a death grip on the door handle and his seat cushion. You have to look away from him sooner than you would have liked given you were still driving, turning into the street with the house in sight now but you could hear him.

And you weren’t sure that you’d ever heard something so...haunting.

It was like he couldn’t breathe properly; his chest constricted or something while pained noises were being dragged out of his throat. You don’t even realise that you’ve sped up, subconsciously trying to get home and park so that you can help your boyfriend with whatever’s going on.

He’s still making those horrible sounds and breathing like he’s run a marathon when you pull into the drive, putting the parking brake on and turning the engine off before turning to him. Reaching out a hand slowly, it’s only when you can feel his bicep that you realise he’s trembling. No, not trembling. He’s shaking almost violently despite his death grip on the car.

“Hobi...Hoseok. Baby, what’s wrong? What’s wrong?” You didn’t know what to do, and you didn’t understand what was happening. Why was he acting like this? Like he’d just seen a ghost or something.

And then it clicks in your head. The intersection, the idiot who almost hit you, the way you’d slammed on the brakes and cursed a storm. For you, it had just been an annoyance and a near miss. But Hoseok had been in a situation like that when he was a child, and it hadn’t been a near miss.

“Oh, shit. Shit. Fuck,” Muttering, you look around the car as you wonder how to break him out of whatever attack he’s suffering. “It’s okay, Hoseok. It’s okay, I’m here. You’re safe, you’re okay. I promise.” 

As you try to find something to jar him out of his memories, you talk to him constantly. It’s utter nonsense what you’re saying but you want to make sure he can hear someone he loves, reassures him that he’s not alone. Glancing over to him, you swallow thickly at how panicked and frightened he looks.

Pulling out the tube of hard peppermints that had been living in your bag for probably two years at this point, you thrust them into his nose. It’s probably a dumb thing to do but something you’d learnt since your panic attack had been that a good way to get people out of the looping fear was something unexpected.

The strong scent of the hard-pressed mints was probably hard to miss given you jammed it against his nose a little too hard. There was white powder left, which wouldn’t look too great if anyone happened to see him, but you didn’t care. It worked.

Yanking his head back suddenly, Hoseok took a deep breath that sounded more painful than you like before looking at you with wide eyes. Letting the mints drop to the floor, you shift until you can reach and cup his face in your hands.

He feels cold yet the apples of his cheeks are so hot, his breath still faster than you liked but there’s coherence in his gaze. The Hoseok you know and love is back, no longer trapped in the memory of an eight-year-old. Guilt overwhelms you as you realise that you’d probably caused this.

“Hobi…” Is all you manage to get out before you’re stopped once more. Only this time, it’s by the way his face crumples and his eyes glisten as tears bank in them. It makes your chest tighten painfully to see him hurting; especially given how he so clearly tries not to let himself fall over the edge.

It’s only when your thumbs gently stroke at the skin of his cheeks, soft yet ever so slightly prickly from his evening shadow that was beginning to make itself known, that he cracks. The tears slowly slide down his face, each one shining in the evening light while his lips wobble as he tries to keep them pressed together.

“Baby, it’s okay. You’re okay, we’re okay.” You’re pretty positive that you’ve never seen anything more heartbreaking than watching Hoseok slowly break down. The rock in your turbulent emotions and mind, eroding as the dark currents of his mind hit at his weak points.

He just stares at you for a moment before he’s grasping at the door handle, breathing heavily before almost throwing himself out of the car. For a moment, you just stared out of the open door, watching as Hoseok practically scrambles for the porch of your house. It takes a few seconds for your brain to finally catch up, propelling you out of the car to follow him.

Crouching down, you reach out slowly to see if he’d be okay with you touching him. He’s sat down, the faded white paint on the old porch looking chipped and dirty as he rests a hand on it. When he doesn’t push you away, you carefully sit down next to him and rub his back in slow, soothing movements.

You can feel the muscles there shaking, his limbs still trembling slightly from the traumatic memory he’d probably had. Not a word has passed from his lips, only heavy breathing that he’s slowly managing to regulate once more and worry fills you.

“Hoseok...it’s okay. You’re okay,” Shuffling a little closer, you move your hand up to stroke the short hair at the nape of his neck. “I’m okay, you’re okay. We’re home. Nothing bad happened. I’m sorry for triggering bad memories.”

Hoseok shakes his head suddenly, the movement fierce and firm. Eyes widening, you let out a small ‘eep’ as he wraps his arms around you and hugs you tightly. This gesture is much different from his earlier embrace in your parent’s shed. There’s a little more urgency to this, the way his hands run along you isn’t sensual but more like he’s reassuring himself that you’re real.

That you are okay.

“You’re not hurt, you’re okay. Right? No pain, n-no injuries? You’re okay?” His voice quivers, breaking halfway through his words and your heart contracts at the sight of the fear in his eyes. The tears are still falling down his face, almost like he doesn’t realise and you gently cup his cheeks once more, wiping away at them.

This time, he seems to recognise your touch fully and leans into it, pressing his forehead against yours as a choked sob sounds from his throat. Cooing to him, you rearrange him until his head is buried in the space between your neck and shoulder, his larger frame seeming so small as you wrap your arms around him protectively.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, I swear. Nothing happened. That asshole ran the red light but I braked quick enough. I was just angry at him, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...to do this. I’m so sorry.” Now it’s your turn for your voice to crack, emotions tumbling together at seeing him so afraid and upset.

“S’not you. It wasn’t you,” He mumbles against your hoodie, squeezing you a little tighter. “It was...it was just the sound and the feeling. The brakes screeching, the cursing, being thrown forward. It was...I was back there. Then, back then. It was just so similar. The intersection and it all just...I guess my mind just got lost in it. It was like I was reliving that moment in my head; both here and back then. I could hear you but I could hear my parents, my sister. I couldn’t figure out what was real.”

You didn’t have any experience with this, with any of it and you didn’t know what to do. From your limited experience of watching shows and movies, you guessed he’d had some kind of flashback to his childhood accident. The sounds and movements of the incident throwing him back decades into that traumatic moment. You felt stupid that you’d never even considered he could still have some form of PTSD it.

At least, you assumed that’s what it was. 

“You’re here. Here with me and we’re okay. I don’t...I gotta be honest baby, I don’t want to say. Or do. What do you need from me?” You hated having to ask that, putting the onus on him to figure out what you should be doing to help him. But you had no idea, you’d never dealt with this. You couldn’t even manage your panic attacks, nevermind one caused by a flashback.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Don’t stress about it. You got me out of my head, that was good. Quick thinking,” Pulling away from you, he laces his fingers together before lowering his head till it’s between his knees and just breathes slowly. “Fuck, I’ve not had one of those in a long time.”

“You’ve had them before?”

There’s silence for a few minutes as he just breathes slowly, his eyes closed as he forces himself to relax. Twisting his lips, he rolls his head and the crack of his neck is loud in the quietness of the street. You don’t push him, letting him take his time to get to terms with what had just happened.

It was a good thing because you weren’t entirely sure what you were meant to do.

“Yeah. I used to get them when I was a kid. It took months for my parents to convince me to get in a car after it happened. Certain things would just...trigger a panic attack or a flashback like then. I can’t listen to the song that was on the radio at the time and...well as you’ve just seen, a sequence of events like that sets me off. A lot of my behaviour when I was younger, was a result of the PTSD from the accident. I thought I’d pretty much got past having these incidents as it’s been forever since I’ve had one.” Wiping at his face, he looks away from you and down towards the end of the road.

Wiggling over to him, you lean against him supportively before carefully taking his hand and linking your fingers. He lets you, his hand mostly limp except the slightest tremble of his fingers. Running the fingers of your free hand along the back of his, you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Don’t be angry or upset or anything, you can’t help it. I know very well that we can’t control what our brains do. It probably thinks it’s trying to protect you somehow but...you got through it pretty quickly. You’re okay and you’re here, talking to me rationally pretty quickly. Maybe you had this because you weren’t driving, right? So you weren’t able to do anything about it. When you’re driving, your mind is usually focused on something else.” Part of you recognises that you’re just rambling crap to him but you want to keep him listening. Make sure that he doesn’t fall back into his mind.

Turning to look at you, Hoseok gives you a weak smile and you feel pain in your chest at how tired and sad he looks suddenly. All signs of your happy and boisterous boyfriend have vanished for the moment. You’ve never felt more useless.

“Yeah, probably. You’re probably right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin-” Cutting him off with a sharp gesture, you gently poke at his arm before smiling.

“Don’t apologise. Please don’t apologise for something you can’t control. You tell me this all the time, so now I get to tell you. It’s okay to not be okay, remember? All I care about is that you’re okay, that you’re not hurting or scared. That’s it. I don’t care that it happened, I only care about you.” His eyes look a little watery again at that, his smile weak yet a little happier than before.

“I know it’s early but...can we just go to bed? Just nap or something? I’m so tired. From working on the porch earlier and from this, I just want to cuddle you and sleep.” Tilting your head, you scan over him slowly and sigh softly.

Hoseok looks tired, his shoulders slumping and back slouching from the weight of everything. It’s the least you can do for him, especially if that’s all he wants. So you nod, smiling at him before squeezing his hand.

“Sure. You go head in, I’ll grab the stuff and put it away then come up.” Standing, you head over to the car to grab everything your parents had given you to bring home. The sound of Hoseok’s keys jangling together as he opens the door is familiar, as is the door closing to prevent Kasumi from getting out. A glance back tells you that he’s inside and you let your head drop, hands resting on the cushion of the backseat as you take a deep breath.

Taking the time to just inhale and exhale slowly, you tell yourself to relax as well. Just as you’d told him that he was okay and safe, you had to acknowledge the same for you now as well. Seeing Hoseok like that was scary and you would be happy if you never saw anything like that again. It hurt to see him afraid, to see him cry and struggle with himself. Was this what it was like for him when you were experiencing a bad mental health day?

Shaking your head, you blow the air out of your cheeks before looking up at the sky. The colours are starting to become more extravagant and vibrant, the blue deepening into purples, pinks and oranges as the sun sets. It’s still warm out but there’s a pleasant breeze that cools you, blowing gently through the grass and the branches of the trees that line the road.

It all looks so peaceful and calm, so unlike what you’d been experiencing not even ten minutes ago. Swallowing, you grabbed the bags and pulled them out, closing the door and locking the car before heading inside.

His shoes are alongside the others but there’s no sign of him downstairs. No noise coming from the bedroom either and you look up the stairs with a concerned expression. You didn’t know what to do, what was right to do. So all you could do was what he asked.

Quickly putting away the leftover food and baked goods your mom had given you, you head upstairs to the bedroom. The curtains are already closed, leaving the room darker than in the hallway and a glance at the clothes hamper lets you guess he’s probably gotten into some comfy pyjamas.

The shape underneath the covers doesn’t move, but you smile at seeing Kasumi laid alongside him with wide and unblinking eyes. Quickly pulling your clothes off, you get into a fresh pair of pyjamas as well before heading over to the bed, placing your phone on the bedside table.

“Hey, pretty girl. Are you looking after daddy?” Whispering, you slide into bed and stroke at her soft fur. Hoseok’s eyes shine slightly in the dim light, the covers pulled up to his chin in an almost protective way as he watches you shower love onto Kasumi.

Turning your attention to him, you take him in for a moment with a soft smile. Gravity makes his cheeks softer and rounder while lying down, his lips pouting a little more than normal while his hair half flops onto the pillow. He looks adorable, yet there’s still that vulnerability in his eyes.

“Do you want to be the little spoon?” You ask, grinning when he nods quietly. It takes no time for you to shuffle forward, meeting him in the middle of the bed and wrapping your arms around him. He nuzzles his head into the space below your chin, his arms trapped between both your bodies while you throw your leg over him as well.

Grinning to yourself despite the serious situation earlier, you can’t help but find some peace and happiness at this moment. To know that he loved you enough to feel safe in your embrace like this, to feel protected and not silly. You were smaller than him, yet you knew that you would keep him as safe as you possibly could.

Reaching up, you alternate between running the strands of his hair through your fingers and massaging his scalp in the way he likes. A quiet rumble of appreciation leaves him at the feeling, his body relaxing in your arms. It would never fail to amuse you how easily you could get him to sleep just by playing with his hair. And you wanted him to sleep right now, to have good and pleasant dreams to rid himself of the anxiety and panic from earlier.

Pressing your lips to his head, you sigh quietly and tell him something that you rarely vocalise. Normally it’s hard to get the words out, but today they flow easily and you can practically feel the way he relaxes even further. 

“I love you.”

[burntmcnuggies]

Maybe

Hawks x Ex-Hero! Reader

Warnings: strong language and that’s it! Just fluff! :D please enjoy <3

“Marry me, (Y/N). Be the sauce to my chicken nuggets.”

“No thank you, Mr. Hawks. Are you here for an appointment with Enji or another attempt to get me to go out with you?”

“Heh, didn’t expect the flame-hero’s secretary to be so cold. Haha! Marry me (Y/N)?”

“No thank you.”

This was practically a daily routine for you. You worked at Endeavors agency as a secretary for the new number one hero. You scheduled his appointments, did some paperwork here and there while he was off on patrol, the usual stuff. It’s what your job application consisted of. However, being pestered everyday by the same man was not in the job description. Pro-hero Hawks has been courting you for months now, asking you at least once everyday to go out with him, go on a date, or marry him. There was even a pool within the office with people predicting how many times a day he asked you out. You maintained a very professional relationship with Hawks. Him and Endeavor worked very close together, so you needed to be as composed as you could be around the two top heroes.

“Are you pestering my secretary again, Hawks?” You turned to see the one and only Endeavor standing there with his arms crossed and an annoyed look on his face. The flames around his face flickered in irritation seeing the winged-hero leant up against your little desk with his wings spread and a cocky smirk over his lips. “Ah, Endeavor, nice to see you too.” He grinned and folded his crimson wings against his back. You smiled and stood up, respectfully bowing to your boss. Endeavor smiles to you and nodded, letting you sit back down at your desk to get back to work. Hawks closely watched the exchange and narrowed his eyes a bit with a pout, his bushy brows furrowing. “You just want to keep her all to yourself don’t you Endeavor?” Hawks face turned serious all of a sudden, and many other employees came and began to listen.

You looked up having a bad feeling about this. “You get to stare at her beautiful face all day, and her sexy ass, and hear her angelic voice, I’ll report you for being a pervert and hitting on your secretary.” His face lit up happily. The glow of orange that reflected from Endeavor’s flames became brighter hearing Hawks say such dirty things about his secretary. “Then... once you’re reported, I can steal her away to work at my agency! I can imagine it now!” He said and raised his hands up, slowly sliding them apart in amazement. You sweat dropped and watched the dork of a man in front of you. “She’ll be dressed in a cute maids outfit... and in her hands-“ His mouth began to drool. You obviously knew where this was going. “She would be serving me some delicious chicken nuggets. And then we’d go home and snuggle in our nest!” He hugged himself happily with a small blush on his cheeks.

“GET. OUT!!” Endeavor raged a bit, his flames spiraling above his head and covering his face in a red and orange glow. You smiled at the exchange between the two and finally got yourself back to work, hoping to not be interrupted again. “Oh! (Y/N) wait!” Hawks slipped away from Endeavors grasp and smiled at you while leaning up against the desk with his wings coming to spread again. You were familiar with birds and how the males spread their wings to show dominance and to possibly attract female birds. You weren’t at all surprised. A small crimson feather flew from a place in his wings, and he nestled the tiny feather behind your ear making it match your red and black suited outfit you wore to match the company. “(Y/N).” He began. You blinked. “Yes, Mr. Hawks?”

“...marry me, please?”

“HAWKS!!”

——

“Mornin’ sweet cheeks!” Hawks greeted with a sly smile. You’re looked up and nodded towards him, typing away at the computer and looking at Endeavors appointments for the day. You failed to notice the number two hero pouting and taking notice of the feather he gave you yesterday nestled in the breast pocket of your professional suit. He smiled cheekily and leaned up against your desk, propping his head on his hand. “You won’t find me in that computer, babe. I’m all right here for you to poke and touch all you want~” He flirted suggestively and spread his wings out wide. You glanced at his beautiful wings and silently admired them before looking into his golden eyes behind a small shade of yellow. They really were beautiful. “You do have an appointment today, Mr. Hawks. I’ve let Enji know you’re ready.” Hawks pouted again.

“Why do you always call him by his name? Seems very unprofessional to me, and you know how much I hate formalities my lil nugget!” He gave you a wide close eyed smile, passively showing off his jealousy for you calling Endeavor by his name. You thought for a moment, and finally came to the conclusion it wouldn’t be too bad to tell Hawks about you and Endeavor. “We went to U.A. together. I helped him start his agency. I wasn’t a popular hero so I came and worked as his receptionist. We have a great sense of trust and friendship. So I call him by his name because of our familiarity with each other.” Hawks eyes sparkled and he grabbed onto the edges on the desk, his crimson wings flapping happily. You cocked your head a bit confused as to why he looked so happy. “You were a hero? That mean you still have your license?”

You nodded. He laughed and stared at you dreamily. You were really his kinda woman. “Mmm, well now I know what to talk about with Endeavor. I really just scheduled this appointment so I could have more time to stare at you!” You sighed and shook your head. He really was a strange hero indeed. You stood up and gathered some papers before turning on your heel and making your way towards the elevators. “I’ll walk ya up there, chickadee!” You sweat dropped at all his goofy nicknames for you, all having to do with birds. Dove, chicken nugget, chickadee, etc. It was honestly very cute. “I have to give these to Enji before his meeting with you. They’re very important.”

“Let me help ya.” He deployed a few of his feathers and plucked those papers right out of your hands and they whisked away up to the number one hero’s office. You watched those important files slip from your grasp so easily and leave up to the top floor. A frown graced your lips. “Mr. Hawks, please. As much as you-“ You stopped right in your tracks when you noticed a blush creeping to his face accompanied by a small smirk. Something you failed to notice was a small tickle on your belly. You looked down and flushed red seeing one of Hawks crimson feathers holding your skirt up a bit to see what color panties you had on. Good day to wear your favorite pair. “‘Keep dreaming’? Oh baby I will.”

“HAWKS!!!” The sound of your out of character voice caught him off guard as you jerked your skirt back down. He only saw the hem where the words were, but it was still embarrassing. He’d never heard your voice like that besides the professional tone you always held. Everyone turned their heads towards you at your sudden outburst, and your face was bright red. Your hands immediately went to our face and you quickly walked away, hoping to catch the elevator and get away from Hawks. “Wow... I need ta remember how amazing your voice is! I’ll think about it now when I go to bed!” He grinned and followed right behind you like a lost puppy. You turned and glared at him, displaying your anger. This only made him up his game. “Ya know... I made reservations for two at Yoritomi. I need a special date! I rented out the whole restaurant just to spend time with this one woman... if only she’ll say yes...?”

This was peer pressure.

You gave a heavy sigh. “Take one of your fan-girls. They’d love to go with you. They’ll always say yes.” You kept your head low entering the elevator with the winged hero following behind you. He tapped and rubbed his chin in thought, but it was obviously a facade since you knew he was going to say something about wanting you to come with him. “That is true... but I like when girls are hard to catch~ I usually go to easy women for sex.” You didn’t know whether to feel offended, jealous, or flattered. On one hand he admitted he liked you, on the other, he also admitted he had indulged a few female fans and women who wanted him. You were sick of his perverted comments, so you fired one back before stepping out of the elevator at the last second. “Well, I like my men tall and strong. It also wouldn’t hurt if he were a famous hero... preferably the number one~”

You winked and turned on your heel, leaving the hero stunned. You were joking obviously, and you were sure he knew that, but it would still leave a sting of jealousy in him. The hero huffed with a pout and aggressively began to press the open button on the door, but to no avail. He hated that you were teasing him, but at least you were teasing him. Before you had nothing to do with him, just blandly saying no and continuing to work. Now, you were teasing him and taunting him. “You’ll be mine my little bird, someday just you wait!” He gave a confident grin and put his hands behind his back while he rode the elevator up. A familiar ding echoed in his ears and he stepped out only to be met with a thick chest covered by navy and small flames. “Ah! Endeavor!”

“I hope you aren’t here to waste my time again, Hawks. I have better things to do than listen to your mindless talking.” The blonde hero laughed and shoved his hands into his pockets, kicking his feet out and walking stiff-legged. Endeavor groaned in annoyance at his carefree childish attitude and sent him a glare. The lower ranked hero held his hands up in defeat and sighed blissfully. “Nope, I’m here to make a negotiation.” The flame hero cocked an eyebrow at the younger man and crossed his arms over his toned and heavily muscular chest. He was not too keen on listening to Hawks’s careless banter. “I promise I’ll leave ya alone! Just negotiate with me, and I’ll make sure it’s worth your time!” Endeavor sighed and opened his office door for the winged hero.

“It better not be what I think it is.”

—

“Isn’t this great? Our first patrol together. This’ll definitely be one for the books don’t cha think, (Y/N)?”

“Yes Mr. Hawks...”

“Nah Ah! Just Hawks sweetheart. No need for formalities. In honesty I just hate them!” He gave a carefree smile and strolled along the streets with his favorite little secretary. He only heard a sigh in return. You were dressed in your old hero costume that squeezed all your curves in the right way. He smirked and whistled lowly. “Ya know, I can feel all the people staring at you, and it’s honestly making me realllyyy jealous.” His wings slowly spread in a possessive manner, shielding your curvy body from the watchful eyes of perverted men. You looked over at him questionably. You could feel the warmth radiating off his wings, and the soft feathers that barely grazed your smooth skin. It sent shivers down your spine. “Well I’m sure I can say the same about all your fan girls. They stare at you and fantasize right there with no shame.”

...wait...

Your eyes widened as soon as you heard his silence. Terrified eyes slowly cast over towards him, regretting your words instantly seeing his cocky smirk. “Ahh~ so girls staring at me makes you jealous? Well how bout we make everyone jealous.” He retreated his wings and replaced his large wing with his arm, tightly coming around your waist. If your cheeks weren’t red before they are now upon his sudden bold move. You had no idea what to do. “Be honest with me, okay? How long have you really had feelings for me, (Y/N)?” You had to compose yourself immediately. You were a professional woman. Needed to be professional with Hawks and not engage in anything romantic or sexual. “Please Mr. Hawks. The only reason I’m out here with you is because Enji-“

“Hawks. Just. Hawks.” Your mouth closed shut after that. His tone was all you needed to know how upset and irritated he was. In all honestly, you did have feelings for him, but you wanted to keep a professional relationship to keep him and yourself from being hurt, again. “I’m sorry, Hawks, but... I have my reasons to be professional. I have my reasons not to date you. Please drop it.” The winged-hero wasn’t expecting such an annoyed answer from you. Usually you would groan and just roll your eyes at his childish demand to drop formalities. You walked ahead of him on your patrol. “I used to date a pro hero. Before he cheated on me, and humiliated me and my career. That’s when I quit the hero business, and returned to help my best friend climb the ranks. As he deserves. For all of his hard work. Now please. Drop romance, Mr. Hawks.”

This stunned him into silence. Someone had cheated on you? Pro hero? Humiliated you? He was now desperate to know more. “Hey woah! You can’t just drop somethin’ like that on me. You gotta explain a bit more, I may know-“ You rudely cut him off by grabbing his collar and yanking him close to you. The look in your eyes killed him to the core. You were still beautiful, even heartbroken and angry. “You don’t know how I feel Hawks. Knowing you, you’ve probably cheated on multiple women. Look at you. You’re charming, handsome, charismatic, friendly, everyone adores you! But they don’t know the real you do they? They don’t know that you’re selfish! Greedy! And just a plain scumbag!”

“You’re a really bad liar ya know?” He stared at you blankly when you grabbed his collar. He seemed unfazed by you holding his fluffy collar. His eyes and ears had quickly picked up on people staring and muttering going around everywhere. He grabbed her waist quickly and flew to the air, holding her close to him, landing on a roof not too far away. You were screaming and begging him to put you down until you opened your fearful eyes and saw the city. You were captivated by the view, no longer worrying about Hawks or your past lover. Just the scenery. Soon, Hawks landed on a billboard post, staring out at the city. “...This is one of my favorite places to come to be alone.”

You looked over at him as he stood at the very edge and stared down at all of the people. All safe and sound. “Never dated anybody. Too busy with hero work to even consider having a girlfriend. But all that changed when I met you, (Y/N).” You flinched hearing his confession, his voice laced with all seriousness, void of any of his playful sarcastic tone. His genuine words of love. “Whatever hero dumbed you... and humiliated you was an idiot. You’re perfect. You always have been. And always will be to me. I try to impress you all the time. My wings-“ He spread his majestic crimson wings, showing off his presence loud and clear. Sharp and dangerous, his wings held such power, and so did Hawks. “-I always outstretch them for you to get you to notice me. I try to court you. It’s how I am. As a bird-man, I’ve adopted some of the traits. That includes... finding a mate.”

“M-Mate...? You mean... you want to make me your mate?” Hawks turned and gave you a firm nod with a reassuring smile. Your heartbeat began to pick up as you stared at the man in front of you. This hero, so genuine and pure, it was almost impossible to think he was even human. He must be an angel in disguise. “Hawks mate for life, chickadee. I want you beside me. Be my partner, stay with me so I can protect you. I promise to make you happy. I promise to keep you safe. I promise to always love you.” Your face glistened a million shades of red hearing his words. The sun was setting at this point. He looked so beautiful. The orange glow gently hitting his face and only illuminating his golden avian eyes, making his wings appear larger and more magical. “I... I don’t know Hawks... I’m still...unsure and scared... and Enji-“

“Call me Keigo, (Y/N). It’s... my real name.” Your eyes widened hearing Hawks’s real name. You were surprised he even revealed it to you. That was how much Hawks trusted you. You sighed and smiled. “Well... let’s make a negotiation. We can go on a couple dates... and If they go well, I’ll agree to be your mate, forever... Keigo. Just please don’t... break my heart.” Hawks wings folded back against his back and he smiled genuinely, not some smug smile or that stupid charming smile he’d show his fans, a smile full of love, only for you. He grabbed your hand shamelessly and pulled you to dangle your feet off the high building post. “Never, dove.” He did the same, still holding your hand.

“Marry me, (Y/N). Be the sauce to my chicken nuggets.”

“...Maybe. You stupid bird brain.”

[keeptheotherone]

Do You Promise?

Chapter 1 of a new WIP, just for you, my Tumblrers <3

August 1999 the Burrow’s garden Weasleys’ 2nd Annual End of Summer Celebration

Charlie Weasley sat on the fence separating his mother’s vegetable patch from the garden, thinking about the last time he’d sat here, one year ago. Then it had been Bill at his side, not his little sister.

“Knut for your thoughts,” she said, pushing herself up.

“Where’s your boyfriend?”

Ginny raised her brows at the implication of his answer but didn’t tease. “Around.”

“Mmm.” He’d been home for more than twenty-four hours, but he hadn’t seen Potter once. At Christmas, they’d been a package deal, never out of arm’s reach of the other. “I thought he might have had to work.”

Ginny shook her head, pigtails dancing round her shoulders like they had when she was shorter than this fence. “Today and tomorrow, but not tonight. Mum made them promise.”

By “them,” Charlie knew she meant Ron and Harry. But … Mum made them promise? Not Ginny, or even Hermione?

“Well, he’d better show up,” Charlie said, taking a drink of his beer. “He owes me a rematch.”

They had played Quidditch in the orchard last year, he and Ginny and Potter and George and a bunch of kids he hadn’t known. Played past sunset into darkness, until Professor McGonagall ended the pick-up match without a capture of the Snitch.

Ginny muttered something that sounded like “he owes me a hell of a lot more than a rematch,” but Charlie let it slide. Ginny could take care of herself.

He and Bill had made sure of it.

“Shouldn’t you be with your friends?” 

“Thanks, Charlie, that means a lot.” She swiped the bottle from his loose grasp and drank.

Charlie had to remind himself she was of age to keep from overreacting, but even so, his hand twitched reflexively.

Ginny saw it and smirked round the glass, tipping her head back and the bottle up, taking several long swallows just for show.

“Yeah, you can have my beer, Sis. I’ll just get another, no problem.”

She finished with a pop and licked the foam from her upper lip before handing it back. “Thirsty.”

Charlie held the bottle up to the light—there was exactly one swallow left. “Brat.”

Ginny was predictably unfazed, gazing over the crowd starting to assemble round the food tables. “I talked to Angelina. She said Alicia couldn’t make it this year.”

“Who?” Charlie said, right as a picture of a perky brunette, with equally perky … anatomy … popped into his mind. Shit. Alicia wasn’t avoiding the party because of him, was she? The same age as George, she would know most of the people attending tonight. He’d thought they parted on good terms, all things considered….

“I thought you might be watching for Amy.”

“Amy’s coming?” He hadn’t seen Amy Green since he had invited himself back to her room and she politely declined. 

“Fleur wasn’t sure,” Ginny said casually, as if she hadn’t just dangled fairy lights in front of a niffler. “She said she encouraged her to come since she sounded a little down, but Amy didn’t commit. I hope she does, don’t you?”

“Of course. I haven’t seen Amy since the memorial. It would be good to catch up.” Charlie took a subtle deep breath, repeating the mantra he told himself when he occasionally woke with her on his mind. You asked, and Amy said no. It doesn’t matter if she isn’t seeing anyone. She’s still unavailable, Weasley. No benefits, just friends.

“I remember, you know. You think I was too young to understand, but I remember. In Egypt.”

Charlie scoffed. His baby sister celebrated her twelfth birthday the summer his family had visited Bill in Cairo. “Oh, yeah? And what do you think you remember, Gin-Gin?”

“I know Bill was an arse,” she said bluntly.

This reversal of her usual hero worship got Charlie’s attention.

“I know you weren’t. And that you liked her. I know you two went out together, and you’ve both dated other people since … but you’ve never dated each other.”

Charlie sighed. “Ginny….”

“Bill’s married,” she said simply. “It doesn’t matter any more.”

“I never thought I’d say this … but go find something else to do. Even if it’s Harry.”

****

Charlie did not leave his post on the fence rail, content to get quietly drunk and watch his family enjoy themselves. He had wondered why he’d bothered making the trip in—it made three in a month, when you added the party to Ginny’s and Percy’s birthdays—but now admitted to himself it had been in hopes of seeing Amy. After all, she hadn’t refused him, exactly; she’d refused the timing. 

“I think we both know what will happen if you walk me back to Hogsmeade.”

He raised his brows, leaving the challenging “so?” unspoken.

Amy closed her eyes, then pulled her hand from his. “Not today, Charlie.” She waved her hand at the gates and the castle and the grounds beyond, where the first Remembrance Ceremony had just ended. “Not after this.”

“Oi, sleepyhead!”

Charlie opened his eyes to find an object in eminent danger of colliding with his nose. He snatched it from the air in sheer self-defense, then groaned when he realized he’d just crumbled one of the best biscuits he’d ever had in his life—a biscuit he’d been waiting all year to taste again.

Percy laughed. “Nice catch, Captain.”

“Shut up,” Charlie muttered, trying to transfer the contents of his hand to his mouth without wearing them.

“Full of snappy retorts tonight, I see.”

Charlie eyed his next-youngest brother, his cheery demeanor highly suspicious. “Did you just get laid?”

Percy slung one arm around his shoulders. “I, in the utmost gesture of brotherly solidarity, am foregoing my own numerous opportunities to assist you in yours, however few and far between they may be.”

“You’re pissed.” Alcohol did not make Percy more relaxed; it made him more Percy-ish.

Percy squinted one eye closed and looked towards the gate. “Perhaps,” he conceded. “But not so drunk I can’t recognize a certain beautiful brunette.”

It was Amy. She was wearing—well, Charlie supposed it was technically a dress, but he’d seen similar items under a dress or robes more than once. It was black and flow-y, with red flowers and skinny straps made to make a man think of slipping them off, and just like that Charlie saw the garment puddled at her feet. She was taller than usual in thick sandals, and even from this distance, with the cut of the dress and the way she moved—he could tell she was braless. He raised the bottle to his mouth before remembering it was empty.

“Godric, I wish I had a camera,” Percy said wistfully. “George and Ron are never going to believe this.”

Charlie realized he was making a fool of himself, closed his mouth, and turned, shaking off his brother’s arm. “What’s she doing now?”

“Making a beeline for us.”

Charlie spoke through clenched teeth. “Shut up and get the—”

“Amy! What a pleasure. We’re so glad you could make it.”

Charlie turned to find his brother kissing Amy on both cheeks with minimal difficulty, despite their height difference. His heart skipped a beat. She was taller; he could kiss her easily.

No, not kiss. We’re friends!

Oh, who was he kidding? Unless she flat-out declined, he was sleeping with Amy Green tonight. They could figure out the friendship stuff tomorrow.

“Hey,” she said, pausing just shy of kissing distance (cheek or otherwise).

“Hey.”

Her hair was down, as it often was, but she had pulled back the front above her ears, exposing small purple and silver earrings (her house colors) and … a blush?

“I would offer to bring you a handful of biscuits, but something tells me you two aren’t going to be here for long.” Percy smirked. “Take care, Amy. See you tomorrow, Charlie.”

Charlie glanced at Amy to judge her reaction. “I’m sorry. He’s, er—”

“Taking the piss?” She offered the British idiom with a grin.

Charlie returned it. “I was going to say ‘pissed,’ but yeah. That too.”

She laughed.

“I keep telling you, you’re lucky to be an only child.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, brushing her hands over his chest with slow, deliberate strokes that were in direct opposition to her presumed goal of removing crumbs. “Brothers can be useful. I figured even if you turned me down, not all of you would.”

Charlie froze, just for a second, his brain short-circuiting to a night more than a year ago, before Ron had left for Australia. “Well, if she actually says it with words, that’s always a good sign, although if she strips her knickers off, that’s even better.”

Wait a minute … she wasn’t commando under that thing … was she?

It took a few moments for the silence to catch his attention.

“I take it that’s not a no,” Amy said dryly.

“No. It’s not. But—”

Her expression darkened, and she pulled away slightly. 

“The terms haven’t changed.” 

“I didn’t think they had,” she said cooly.

They had been here before, the autumn after Voldemort came back. Grimmauld Place, an unexpected post-meeting raid, high spirits and adrenaline … and the darkened hallway where Amy had turned him down. “I like strings,” she’d said, and walked away.

The staccato drumbeat of the Weird Sisters’ Do the Hippogriff pulled Charlie from the memory.

“Drink?” he asked, indicating his empty bottle in case she hadn’t heard him over the noise.

“Not really.”

He’d already started towards the tables, but her answer drew him up short. “Really, Amy, you could at least buy me dinner first,” he said sarcastically.

She sighed. “Look, Charlie, I don’t want to play the game. It’s why I’m here. Now, am I wasting my time or not?”

For the second time that night he found himself holding on to his temper. He was starting to see how she’d got under Bill’s skin, why he’d had such a hard time letting her go even when Bill had known he didn’t want to pursue a relationship with her.

“So what, you thought you’d just fly in, snap your fingers, and I’d jump?”

“Am I wrong?”

Godric, she was obnoxious. She was also beautiful, confident, and sexy as hell, and Charlie was honest enough to admit he found the balance of power between them as intoxicating as it was infuriating. 

“We could get a room at the Leaky—in magical London—or maybe Hogsmeade?”

“I have a room in the village.”

Damn. When Amy made up her mind, she didn’t mess around.

“All right,” he agreed. “One last thing, though.”

He stepped into her space, close enough to ruffle her skirt with his legs and watch the gooseflesh pebble across her chest and shoulders. He ignored the temptation to follow it down and looked her in the eye. In heels, she was as tall as he, but his wide shoulders and bulky frame dwarfed her. He paused to let her consider this fact, still not touching her, before dropping his voice.

“You will not be in control the entire night.”

Her reaction went straight to his groin—a sharp intake of breath, dilated pupils, a shiver she tried to suppress. Then she smiled, a sly, knowing smile that reached all the way to her eyes and made them sparkle in the fading sunlight.

“Do you promise?”

[adenei]

I know you don’t want to write about pregnancy announcement anymore but can you do a continuation just for >I’m not sick< please ??? You remember ??? I wanna know the raction of the Weasley’s and Grange’s to this very early news

Hi - Thanks so much for the ask, and I appreciate you remembering me saying that. I got a little carried away with this one, and I hope you love it as much as I do! 

Ask box is open

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

The Announcement

Hermione had planned everything out with Ron. They were going to tell their parents that they’d be welcoming a grandchild around the holidays. No one but Ron, Harry, Ginny and Professor McGonagall knew that Hermione had returned home from the semester early. Hermione had kept her interviews at the Ministry and finally decided to take a position within the Magical Creatures department. 

By the time term had officially ended, Hermione was close to three months, and the baby’s heartbeat was strong as ever. A mediwitch had been visiting Grimmauld Place for Hermione’s appointments, and had been required to sign several nondisclosure agreements to protect them and the baby. In order to conceal Hermione’s whereabouts, Ron had insisted he’d ‘pick’ Hermione up from the train, much to the Mr. and Mrs. Granger’s chagrin. 

Ron knew they wouldn’t be happy about the delay in seeing their only daughter, but it helped that Ron had begun to make a habit of going to the Granger’s home once a week for dinner. Even though Mrs. Granger was upset that she couldn’t collect her daughter from King’s Cross, Ron found that she’d given in rather quickly. She was excited at Ron’s suggestion to have his parents join them for their weekly dinner when Hermione returned home, and had begun planning the evening’s meal before Ron had left a few weeks ago.

“Have I told you how sweet it is that you’ve been having dinner with my parents once a week?” Hermione asked, bringing Ron out of his thoughts. She was eyeing herself in the mirror, checking to see how she looked in the flowy, coral colored sundress she’d chosen for the evening. 

“Er, once or twice, yeah,” Ron responded with a grin. He held out his arms for her to come to him. 

“I’m so nervous,” Hermione said. Ron could tell she was holding back tears. “What if they’re ashamed. We should have been more careful. We’re only just starting our adult lives and we’re bringing a child into the world. And we’re not even married yet!”

Ron wrapped his arms tighter around her. This wasn’t the first time she’d spiraled into an emotional mess thinking about everyone’s reactions over how out of order this all seemed. “Well, I thought about giving you a ring to show off tonight, but I didn’t want our parents to die of a heart attack from too much news in one sitting.”

He meant it as a joke to lighten the mood, though he was completely serious about putting a ring on her finger. Baby or no baby, he couldn’t imagine not sharing the rest of his life with Hermione. Ron felt her pull away and look at him.

“You- you have a ring?” she asked. 

“I-” Ron sighed. “Reckon I didn’t think that quite through, did I…”

“Ron,” Hermione pressed.

“Maybe I do. That alright?” Ron said as he looked away. He couldn’t bear her rejection.

“Are you proposing?” Hermione asked in a hushed whisper.

“No!” Ron said quickly. “Er, not yet anyways.” Ron shook his head. “I’m really buggering this up, aren’t I? Yes, Hermione, I do plan on asking you to marry me, but not tonight. I plan on doing it properly, so can we forget this conversation even happened?” Ron was sure his ears were scarlet.

“You really want to marry me?” Hermione asked him cautiously. They’d made mention of the future, but had never actually talked about it. 

Ron’s eyes sought hers. “Course I do. Even if we weren’t going to have a baby sooner than we expected. You’re it for me. It’s always been you.” It felt good to be honest with her. After so many years of skirting around their feelings, they were finally able to be open with each other.

Hermione didn’t trust her voice to tell him she felt the same, so she leaned in and kissed him. Hoping she could put everything she was feeling into that one kiss. Suddenly, it didn’t matter what their parents, or anyone else for that matter, thought. She was going to spend the rest of her life with the only man she’d ever loved, and she felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

“I love you,” she whispered against his lips.

“I love you, too.” Ron reluctantly pulled away and looked at the clock on the wall. “Shite, we’ve got to get going.”

Hermione sighed. “I suppose you’re right. Might as well get it over with, right?”

Ron nodded. They still had a ways to go before it would be the appropriate point in the evening. 

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

Ron was assisting Mrs. Granger with cleaning up while Hermione and Mr. Granger led Ron’s parents into the living room. 

“Is everything alright with Hermione?” she asked him.

“Er, yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?” Ron responded, trying to be cool. Of course her mother would pick up on her uneasiness tonight. Hermione was trying her best, but she was still quite jumpy.

“She just seems off, is all. Hermione’s normally a ball of energy when she comes home at the end of term. We can barely get a word in edgewise when she’s telling us stories of everything she’s learned. She’s been awfully quiet. You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?” Mrs. Granger looked sternly at Ron. 

“Y-yeah, of course!” Ron said without thinking. 

Mrs. Granger eyed him carefully. As much as she wanted to believe him, there was something in the tone of his voice that told her he was hiding something from her. “Ron…”

“Just, trust me, okay?” Ron pleaded with the woman who would be his future mother in law. “Hermione’s fine. Can I help you get the coffee? I know Mum always takes a cup after dinner.”

Though Mrs. Granger wanted to press him more for answers about her daughter’s peculiar behavior, she let it slide. It was evident that Ron cared deeply for Hermione, and the thought made her smile softly. She completely understood Hermione’s soft spot for the young redhead. She was developing one of her own, it seemed.

After the coffee was ready, they made their way into the living room, and joined the rest of the party. Conversation flowed easily, and now Hermione and Ron were waiting for the right moment to bring up their news. It didn’t take long, since Mrs. Weasley noticed Hermione’s unease now.

Hermione, dear, are you alright? You look pale as a ghost,” Mrs. Weasley said in a concerned voice. “You barely ate anything at dinner, either.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” added Mrs. Granger. 

“I-” Hermione started to speak, but then looked at Ron. They both knew now was as good a time as ever, but the words seemed to fail her.

“We, er, have something we wanted to talk to you about,” Ron finished.

“Is everything alright?” Mr. Weasley asked, looking between the two.

“Y-yeah,” Ron said. He looked at Hermione. He knew she wanted to lead the conversation. She’d said as much earlier today, but he’d be there to fill in if he was needed.

“I’ve- Well, the thing is, I received some news at Hogwarts at the beginning of June,” Hermione started to say.

“Is this about the job you’ve taken with the Ministry?” her father asked. “We knew you were planning to take the job with the Magical Creatures department, but did something else come up?”

“Sort of. I actually finished my exams three weeks ago, and was able to leave Hogwarts a bit earlier than expected.”

“What? But...why didn’t you tell us, sweetheart?” her mother asked. She shot Ron a look, and he knew he was probably going to be in trouble for not saying anything. He met her eyes, not backing down as he supported his girlfriend.

“I- I couldn’t. I wasn’t planning on ending the year early, but I needed to. You see, I’d been feeling really sick and-”

“-You were ill and you didn’t come straight here or to us?” Mrs. Weasley asked, cutting Hermione off.

“I needed to be with Ron. I couldn’t come home or to the Burrow,” Hermione said as she hung her head. She knew she needed to stop beating around the bush. Ron placed his hand in hers, reminding her that he was right there with her. “It turns out it was morning sickness,” Hermione said softly.

“W-what?” Mrs. Granger said as Mrs. Weasley gasped.

“Surely, you’re not…” Mr. Granger started to say.

“I’m pregnant.” Hermione said, regaining her resolve as she looked up. “And Ron and I have talked, and we’re keeping it.”

“How long?” Mr. Weasley asked when no one else spoke.

“Three months,” Ron said.

“So…” his father said, as he tried to do the math.

“Easter holidays,” Hermione supplied. “We said the charms, but Madame Pomfrey said it’s not always entirely effective. It was a shock to both of us at first, but we’ve had a lot of time to think about this, and- and we’re going to see this through. We love each other, and sure, maybe this isn’t the timeline we’d exactly planned, but-” Hermione paused and looked at Ron, who smiled at her.

“When has anything with us ever gone as planned?” he attempted a chuckle. He looked at Hermione’s parents then, and with all the sincerity in the world, he said, “I love your daughter more than anything in this world, and I mean to marry her. I’ll do everything to keep them happy and safe and loved.”

He shifted his arm to wrap around Hermione’s shoulders as he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. Ron could tell Hermione wanted to say she was sorry, but they’d talked about that, and she wasn’t sorry. They were consenting adults, and the child that was now growing inside her was made with all the love in the world. 

They gave their parents a moment to process the news. Mrs. Weasley finally spoke first as she grabbed her husband's hands. “Another grandbaby. Oh, my word, another! I can’t believe it.” She was across the room in an instant, wrapping Ron and Hermione in a tight hug. 

Luckily, Molly’s reaction shook some reality back into Hermione’s parents. Soon everyone was on their feet, hugging and asking questions about when they were due and whether they predicted it would be a boy or girl. Hermione was feeling more relieved and relaxed now that she’d been assured of their parent’s acceptance. 

Later on, as Ron’s parents were getting ready to leave, he took it upon himself to take the empty dishes back out to the kitchen. As he was rinsing the cups in the sink, he heard Mrs. Granger come in.

“I’m sorry I lied before,” Ron said. 

“I appreciate the apology,” Mrs. Granger said as she set the remaining dishes on the counter. “I’ll admit I was mad at first, but I understand now. I couldn’t ask for a better future son in law, you know.”

Despite himself, Ron smiled. “Thanks. I meant what I said earlier, about taking care of her and our future family.”

“I know. Hermione’s lucky to have you, and so are we. Now, you should get her home to rest. I’ll take care of this. She needs her sleep at this stage,” Mrs. Granger said with a smile. 

“Er, right. Thanks for having us,” Ron said as he bid her goodbye.

Mrs. Granger watched as Ron walked out of the kitchen. For all the issues she may have had about the world she’d let her daughter enter at the age of eleven, she was beyond thankful for the redheaded wizard who’d stolen her daughter’s heart. She knew there was no better match in this world for her daughter than the youngest Weasley boy, and there was a newfound excitement that she was feeling as she thought about the life the two would build together.

[ears-awake-eyes-opened]

Lace

(Hayffie ❤️🔥. Exploration of the potential of Effie and Haymitch through time using lace as metaphor. I spent several days channeling what I imagine of Effie as I tried to write this just so. It was worth the effort. NSFW. Sexual content toward the end.)

“I used to rummage around in my grandmother’s trunks trying to find them. I love the feeling of chiffon and lace.” — Stevie Nicks

***

Lace was Effie’s earliest gateway to a partially hidden self. Scallops, finely knitted with silk thread, swirled in her hands and opened a dream world. She stepped into it with great anticipation. Beneath white lace she could be a ghost. Not the ghastly kind that frightens the world, wailing the aches of an unfinished life. But the ethereal kind that floats through the halls, unencumbered by expectation. In her imagination, everyone would pause to gaze upon her. They’d all still to listen to the rustling of the fabric of her existence.

In lace, she could become whoever she wanted to be.

As a little girl, she dressed up in riches and regal innocence, draping herself in her Nana’s long pearl necklace and lace shawl. She served tea in painted porcelain cups to painted porcelain dolls. “Manners, children! Don’t slurp your tea. Curl your pinkies, and you’ll grow up to be great ladies.”

By 8 years old, she felt quite grown up herself, caught between innocence and incipient desire, crushing on the boy who’d just won the Games. She picked a bouquet of flowers from the garden. “I’m Proserpina now, goddess of fertility, agriculture, and wine...” She ate six pomegranate seeds, and pulled the shawl over her eyes as a veil. “...Someday I’ll be the bride of Pluto, God of the underworld and mineral wealth. He’ll love me like no other, and I the same for him. They call him Haymitch now, but I know his true identity. I’m the only one.”

She scooped up one of her dolls and wiped its porcelain neck with the corner of the shawl. “There. You’re pretty again, Maysilee darling. Those awful pink birds are gone. You’ll come with us to live in the underworld with diamonds and rubies and sapphires. Nobody there is ever really dead. You’ll be the princess, and I’ll be the queen.”

In lace, she worked through the trauma that existed in witnessing so much death.

“And isn’t that at its core what the princess fantasy is about for all of us?... ‘Princess’ is the wish that we could protect them from pain, that they would never know sorrow, that they will live happily ever after, ensconces in lace and innocence.” — Peggy Orenstein

***

There was lace between them the first time Haymitch touched her. The delicate gloves she wore met his fingers with surprising softness. He’d shaken hands with lacy-gloved Capitol women countless times. He’d pressed his lips to their knuckles when they presented their hands for kissing. He got that shit a lot, and most of the time it annoyed him. Those textures were predictably coarse.

The first touch of Effie was alluring. That silky fabric full of holes peaked his curiousity about the feeling of her skin. They’d just met, and he didn’t want to let go of her. Not yet. Damn. Attraction to an opulent Capitol girl was a complication he didn’t need.

“Nice gloves, sweetheart.” He couldn’t resist. The moment felt too good to say nothing.

Through layers of makeup, he could see her blush. Another surprise. She didn’t drop his hand. They held on until the spots where they touched infused with a shared warmth. It didn’t take long, with both of them wondering how it would feel to play with fire.

Flint struck steel, and sparks flew for years as they goaded each other with words and mannerisms. The burn was slow seduction. There are dualities to lace. It can’t decide whether it’s an angel or a devil. In those years of indecision, Effie touched him many times through gloves: curling her hand in the bend of his elbow, brushing against the back of his neck accidentally on purpose, skimming her fingertips across his forehead to push his hair from his eyes when he was drunk enough not to object.

She took to interlacing her fingers with his the moment one of their tributes was killed in the arena.

“Don’t.” He bristled at first. “Don’t patronize me.”

“Is that what you think I’m doing?! I don’t want them to die. You know it hurts me too.”

She was getting too attached. She’d need to find a way to toughen up if she was going to keep doing the job. And he wanted her there. Holding her hand took a slight edge off the horror. He was getting too attached — to her. He recognized it.

“I’m not hurting.” His words were unconvincing. He took a long drink, and he didn’t let go of her until the flask was empty.

“Give me lace and whiskey.” — Alice Cooper

***

The system, ultimately fragile, was indeed brought down by berries — and blood. After the revolution, resources that Effie had always taken for granted were scarce. During the early years of reconstruction, she asked Greasy Sae to teach her how to mend lace. The old woman repaired it for resale using just an ironing board, straight pins, a needle, thread, and scissors.

“I ain’t gonna ask how your panties got ripped, dear.” She winked. “But I can show you how to fix ‘em.” Sae could fix most anything, and Effie enjoyed spending time with her. It was like rummaging again in her grandmother’s trunks, but finding treasure in pearls of wisdom.

Effie’s connection with Haymitch had caught fire when the world did. The timing made sense. One intensity begets another, like creation.

After learning on small items, Effie moved on to mending more precious swaths of lace like the heirloom tablecloth in her apartment. Haymitch sank into her sofa, and watched her work in a slip and an sheer robe printed with flowers. Her hair kept falling in her face so she pulled it back into a ponytail.

Her hair alone turned him on. He took swallows from a glass of Capitol liquor that he didn’t know by name, and he thought about holding onto that ponytail and fucking her.

She felt his eyes on her. “You’re suddenly fascinated with sewing?” she asked without looking up from the stitching.

“I’m fascinated with you.” The words weren’t playful. They pulled her heartbeat into her gut. Butterflies. They’d been seeing each other for over two years, and he could still tug at her without touching.

A smile lit up her face.

“Are you almost done with that, sweetheart?”

“Patience. When your leg breaks, you can’t rush the bone to fuse back together.”

“Are you planning on breaking my leg? Because I’ve already got another bone for you to fix.”

“Your ‘bone’ can wait for the sake of art.”

“...I’m gonna make you come, honey. If that ain’t art, then I don’t know what is.”

The flush of her cheeks and the swell along the axis of her body were distracting her, but she finished the task regardless.

She removed the pins, lifted the lace from the ironing board, tied a small knot in the thread, and clipped off the excess to finish. She sat with him on the sofa to inspect her work. Her stitches were precisely as tight as the weave of the lace. The fix was fairly perfect.

The tablecloth draped across her lap and spilled over her legs. Through the lace, he caressed her thighs, her knees, her calves, then back up again. She was too affected to nag him about being careful with her masterpiece.

“You like this,” she murmured.

Hell, yes. “I like almost seeing you through it... touchin’ you... You’re so fine, Effie.”

‘Fine’ was a word he generally used when they argued, when something wasn’t quite right and when he didn’t want to talk about it. This context felt different.

Shit. I’m into her. If I don’t keep this in check, I’m gonna be so into her. “...Can I...?” He asked in response to his unvoiced feelings.

“What do you want, honey?”

He stroked the apex of her thighs through the lace and her satin slip.

She moaned softly.

“You like this too.” His voice was thick with desire to swallow the sounds that escaped her throat. He’d start there, then move on to the rest of her.

“Hell, yes...” she sighed, sliding her fingers up the short sleeve of his shirt.

The tablecloth fell away and they clutched each other, as if she might dissolve into molecules, as if he might disappear. It was like that sometimes — grasping, clinging need.

Stay.

Please stay.

“I stare at her collarbone that’s framed with lace, the hollow of her collarbone, her shoulders that rise with each rise of the weight of her next breath. We’re fragile things. Our bones show through our skin. What would any god want with us?” — Lauren DeStephano

***

In the old days of the Capitol, lace curtains were a means to show off assets. In the Trinket family home, lace hung for years in the windows of the parlor, showcasing an antique grand piano and furniture made of mahogany and velvet. Less ostentatious and commonplace items were relegated to rooms cloaked in thick window coverings or not visible from the street.

Effie was raised in this manner, instructed in the duality of garnering attention and practicing concealment. Lace has the capacity to reveal, on occasion, something you might rather hide — whether when used to line your parlor, cover your body in a second skin, or partially cloak the contents of your heart. People take risks in lace.

Effie peered into her parents’ marriage and understood her own desires were different. “Did you love Father when you married?” she asked when her mother chastised her about spending so much time with the victor from District 12.

“This conversation is about YOUR future, not my past,” her mother responded without answering the question. “At your age, you certainly should be thinking about marriage, but for heaven sake not with a savage. Taking up with him is impractical. It will ruin your life.”

Effie worked to hold the lid on the pot boiling inside her. “He is not a savage. I ‘took up’ with him years ago, and my life is my own. I might move to 12, and I might never marry. Those are MY choices to make.” She resisted the urge to flinch. As a girl, being that frank with her mother would have prompted a slap in the face, but her childhood was long gone.

Her mother was stunned into silence, so Effie asked again, “Are you in love with my father?”

“...Are you in love with Haymitch?” Her mother again ignored Effie’s question, though her tone softened in curiosity. She at least acknowledged that she knew his name.

“Yes,” Effie answered without hesitation, hoping her admission wouldn’t pose a threat to him. She recognized the balance of power had shifted. The Trinkets’ curtains weren’t lace anymore. The contents of the parlor had been sold. Nothing was as it used to be.

“How do you know?” Her mother asked. “How do you know you love him?”

“I’ve always known.”

“Always?”

“From my early memories, playing that we were king and queen of the underworld. Playing with metaphorical fire, even then. ...I want to be with him. I love him so much it hurts.”

“Love shouldn’t hurt, honey.”

“How could you know?”

“Because I love YOU.”

“And how do you feel about what I’m telling you now?”

“You’re a grown woman, Effie. ...Though I can’t help but feel heartbroken picturing you in that life.”

“Love is a rock against the wind. Not soft like silk and lace.” — Etheridge Knight

***

Haymitch returned from the Hob to find his front door unlocked. Adrenaline shot to his arms and legs, and he unsheathed his knife before stepping inside. All was silent. Maybe he’d simply forgotten to lock it. Unlikely though since he did that reflexively, even when he was drunk. He misplaced his keys sometimes, but he never left home without locking the door.

Anxiety grew in the stillness. He checked every room downstairs, then tiptoed up the staircase. He found the *intruder* asleep on his unmade bed.

Effie was dressed — scarcely — in white stretch lace stockings hooked with garters to a matching top. He remembered her calling that kind of thing a bustier, though he’d never seen this one before. She was curled up on her side, and he saw in profile her naked hip and the smooth curve of her ass.

She’d said she had to work this weekend, so her showing up was a surprise. He sheathed his knife as the increased blood supply eased away from his limbs and flowed straight to his groin. From the rush of adrenaline and Effie’s sensual appearance, his heart beat like crazy. His mind was sharp despite lightheadedness. Fucking adrenaline. He knew it as well as anything else.

He quietly removed his boots, peeled off his clothes, and slipped into bed beside his girl. Her even breathing soothed his frayed nerves. He watched her chest rise and fall, and he took in more details of her attire.

The bustier pushed her breasts together, creating a hint of cleavage in a large teardrop-shaped opening between them. Two extra straps emerged from the lace above the peak of the teardrop. They passed over her collarbones, along the sides of her neck, and slid down her back.

Her nipples, soft in sleep, were visible through the lace. The fabric cupped her breasts then stretched to her waist. Everything below was bare — no panties, no thong, nothing but her. Then the stockings.

He had never wanted to touch someone so badly everywhere at once. He curled his fingers around her hip and plucked kisses on her forehead until she stirred.

Good morning, sweetheart; he tried to tease since it was already late afternoon, but the words must have spun in his lungs with his breath, because nothing came out.

Effie rubbed her eyes awake, like a child dressed up in the body of a goddess. “Hey, stranger...” was all she could say before he sucked the rest of the greeting from between her lips.

“What was the point in satin and lace if it didn’t make a man struggle to speak?” — Alexandra Ivy

***

Their reunion was ardent and greedy. He was all sinewy flesh, and she touched him every place she could reach with her hands, arms, legs, body, mouth... He reciprocated the contact with mutual intensity, barely taking care not to crush her. She was like a bird with lacy feathers. He pulled away long enough for her to sing...

“God, you feel good. You’re worth every mile of that infernal train ride.”

He inched down her body, tracing one of the bustier straps with his chin as he kissed along her neck, down her throat to the lace and the unexpected cleavage. “You surprised me.”

“I’m sorry. I’d planned to call out when you opened the door, but the bed was warm, and the sheets smell like you, and I couldn’t keep my eyes open.”

“I’m not complaining. I’m just feeling every ounce of adrenaline pumping now in my dick.”

Through the lace, he stroked one of her breasts with his tongue and the other with his thumb. When her nipples peeked through the fabric, he scissored one between his teeth.

Her jaw dropped open. She sucked in a breath and held it until he shifted his attention to her other breast. There was a moment of release, then she gasped again as the pleasure deepened. She exhaled in words, “I’ve got plans for you.”

Uneasiness crept in. “What plans?”

“Don’t worry. You’ll like it.” With a fingertip, she traced around the teardrop on her chest. “You want to fuck me... here?”

Sandwiched between her breasts with soft lace covering the head of my dick? “Only a fool would say no to that.”

She propped up on pillows. “Come here...”

He straddled her rib cage, taking care not to crush her. She held his hips as he slipped through the teardrop into the valley between her breasts.

Ahh, fuck...

She positioned her palms to accentuate the function of the bustier, squeezing him with her flesh. Then she entwined her fingers over the lace on top of his dick. “Is this good?”

His answer was obvious. He was already thrusting. “Oh, fuck,” he cried aloud this time, feeling the pressure, friction, and excitement of her sheathing him like a knife.

With each movement, his balls grazed the lace too. It was so much sensation. He ran his fingers along her scalp, threading them through her hair. He couldn’t think, and he was afraid of pressing too hard on her sternum and hurting her. “Are you alright?”

“Honey, this is hot as hell. Keep fucking my breasts for as long as you can hold out.” She tightened her grip.

His strokes quickened. “I haven’t got much left before... God... Effie...”

“Where do you want to come, honey? On my neck? In my mouth? Inside me with me coming too?”

He was close, so damn close. In a blink, he pulled out of the sheath and the teardrop, breathing hard. “Shit. Give me a minute. Don’t move and don’t say anything.”

She froze as requested, with her hands still on her breasts. The veil slipped, and she understood what was happening. He was choosing her — intimate connection and pleasure WITH her. She fought tears from welling up because she didn’t want to explain them. She just wanted him to make love with her, and she realized it was happening.

As if to prove it, he stretched out flush against her body and kissed her as before, like he couldn’t wait. “Inside you, with you coming too. That’s what I want.”

She wrapped her legs, esconced in lace, around him and drew him in. With each plunge he was swimming, feeling the waves as she clenched him deep.

“Slow down, honey. I wanna wait for you.”

Thrilling in his words, she had to force her internal muscles to relax and loosen their grasp.

He propped up on one arm and drew circles on her clit.

“Mmmm... Keep that up, and you won’t have to wait much longer.”

Gentle tugs and circling grew more insistent as his body was losing patience.

Her body clenched him again of its own volition. “Oh... I’m... Oh, honey... It’s so delicious....”

“Fuck, Effie. You’ve gotta... Holy shit...”

“Ohh, I can’t stop... Are you....”

“Yeah.” He grunted as the waves overtook him. “Oh, hell... This is it.”

As they climaxed together, the veil slipped, and he understood what was happening. This was more than adrenaline and far beyond fucking. He was making love with her. He was loving her more than anything they were doing in this bed. He loved this girl, HIS girl.

As their breathing slowed, he kissed her as if she was the most intoxicating drink of his life. And, damn it, she probably was.

“You waited.” Her tears welled up. She couldn’t stop those either.

“It’s like holding back wild horses, sweetheart.”

“Four black horses and an ebony chariot.” She said, thinking of the myth she played at long ago.

“Something like that.” Though the analogy was ominous. It reminded him too much of the Games, and he was already shaky coming down from the rush of adrenaline. He collapsed against her. She felt his tremors, and he felt her tears. What the hell am I supposed to do with all this feeling?

“Shh... It’s alright. We can do this,” she said to herself as much as to him. “We’re a team. Remember?” You’re not alone anymore.

She held him until the shaking stopped. All he had to do was let her.

“What can I do with my happiness? How can I keep it, conceal it, bury it where I may never lose it? I want to kneel as it falls over me like rain, gather it up with lace and silk, and press it over myself again.” — Anais Nin

***

The little girl had reached an age when everything in existence was a discovery followed by a question. With all her might she dragged a small cedar chest from the corner of the closet. “What’s this, Nana?”

“It’s buried treasure, Baby Doll. Would you like to open it?”

The little one clapped her hands in anticipation and lifted the latch. Though the springs had worn out long ago, the girl was strong enough to lift the lid without assistance. It fell back onto its hinges, revealing the contents within. She peered inside with eyes wide open.

“Those treasures are old and precious. Most are very fragile. Will you promise to be ever so careful?”

She nodded with serious intent, then rummaged inside to pull treasures out. One by one, she took them to her Nana in the rocking chair...

A lace shawl, a long strand of pearls, two porcelain tea cups, and a porcelain doll with a painted face. A dried bouquet of flowers in a locked wooden box with a glass lid. Golden lace gloves knitted with silk thread. A sheer robe printed with flowers. A yellowed lace tablecloth. A purple corset and a white lace bustier. Plus many sentimental trinkets including a paper card with birds on the front and an inscription inside. The girl was too young still to read.

“What’s it say, Nana?” The little one climbed into her lap and waited for the words.

It reads, “Effie and Haymitch. I wish you happiness. Love, Mother.”

“That’s you and Grampa!”

“Yes, my dear.”

“Where’d all this treasure come from?”

Effie thought a moment.. “it comes from smiles and tears, laughter and fits of madness. From a life full of diamonds and rubies and sapphires — not the kind you dig up from an underground world, but the kind you carry in your heart.”

“It would take a giant heart to carry all that!”

“That’s why we share our lives with the people we love. So we have more than one heart to hold all that treasure.”

The girl rubbed her eyes and snuggled against Effie, “Nana, tell me a story.”

With her arms around her granddaughter, Effie began... “Once upon a time there was a girl who lived inside a rainbow. She’d reach for the colors around her, but her hands were always empty because the rainbow wasn’t real. So she filled her hands with love, and she painted a real life in all the colors she used to live within but couldn’t touch...”

Effie’s granddaughter clutched the old lace shawl as she fell asleep.

“Concealment and revelation. A veil and a shroud. Chastity and wildness. Fragility and resilience. Complexity and simplicity. Curiosity and knowing. Teasing and fulfillment. Thrill and comfort... These are my hopes for you, Baby Doll,” Effie whispered.

Lace becomes what we need it to be.

“Hopes were wallflowers. Hopes hugged the perimeter of a dance floor in your brain, tugging at their party lace, all perfume and hems and doomed expectation. They fanned their dance cards, these guests that pressed against the walls of your heart.” — Karen Russell

[agent-cupcake]

could you do a Sylvain or Felix x reader angst that turns to fluff at the end? Thank you :)

I can’t believe how fluffy this is. Old age is making me soft. This was going to end a LOT differently, but then I watched his supports and I just wanted this SOOO Sappy Sylvain for your reading displeasure

-

Of course Sylvain misunderstood your intentions. Of course, after months and months of playful flirting and coy looks, he’d assume that this was why you approached him in the dead of night, knocking on his door with wide eyes and a racing heart. Truthfully, though, you didn’t make a good case to the contrary in the way you melted into the forward caress of his hands, either.

But who could blame you? As the stories always seemed to go, it all happened so fast.

Before you could get your bearings, the opportunity for you to gather the guts to speak was already gone. Once Sylvain made his move, all of your carefully planned thoughts went out the window, lost once you were pinned against the edge of his messy desk. Perhaps he thought he was doing you a service, removing the necessity for your flustered and stilted words to be spoken. There was only one word needed here, and you were certain a ‘yes’ wasn’t far off, becoming more and more clear within the catching foggy haze of desire.

Sure, conflict warred in your mind, unease tickled your spine, but you were only human. Even if your heart was heavy with a thousand built up feelings and an epiphany regarding your true feelings, even though your was tongue clumsy with words you’d been rehearsing, you still wanted him. Sylvain was offering nothing more than a bitter mockery of the romance you dreamed of, the empty regards of the physical touch you yearned for so desperately, but it was still some kind of romance, it was still his touch. After so long of your back and forth flirtations and the feelings you’d found increasingly difficult to ignore, your body craved him, ached for him.

But not like this.  

“Sylvain…” you said, an attempted warning in the whine of your voice. Unconvincing, not helped in the least by the hot feeling the light brush of his lips sent through you as they trailed across your jaw, down your neck. “This isn’t… Isn’t why I came to see you…”

As if utterly oblivious to the discord in your head, the strength it took for you to get out those words, Sylvain laughed. Wet from the open mouthed kisses he’d left across your collarbone, the breath of that laugh was enough to make you shiver. Chills rushed across your skin, reacting to his touch in all the proper ways despite the wrongness of it all.

“Are you sure about that?” he replied playfully, undoing the buttons of your shirt so he could push the neckline aside and expose more of your skin to his southbound lips. “We both knew it was only a matter of time before you got curious.” He ran his lips over where your heart fluttered, make you shudder all over again. “You don’t have to play naive for my sake.”

“I’m not playing,” you said.

“Then relax,” Sylvain soothed, his hands tracing a path down your waist, sliding to your thighs and pushing them further apart to allow him closer. The position forced you to cling to him, allowing his lips to find your ear, his muttered promise raising even more chills, “I’m not gonna do anything you won’t like.”

Breath caught, you very nearly reconsidered, overwhelmed by the temptation to submit, to accept what he would give you. Sylvain was intoxicating, electrifying. It would be easy to be swept up in his lust, cheap as it was.

But you couldn’t.

“No, I wanted to…” You swallowed hard against a throat that suddenly felt swollen, glad that he was close enough that you didn’t have to meet his eyes. “Can we talk? Please, it’s… Important. Sylvain.”

“I’m all ears,” he said, his attention now focused on the buttons of your shirt.

“I-I know you’re seeing other girls, and I know you’re not necessarily one to commit, but I… I don’t want to get involved with you unless-”

Sylvain froze, the sudden tension in his body prompting your words to cut off.

Whether from your tone or from your phrasing, he somehow seemed to understand. And he wasn’t happy about it. Letting out a heavy sigh of what felt uncomfortably like resignation, his eyes rose to meet yours.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Sylvain asked, all traces of a smile gone from his suddenly solemn face.

You weighed those words and his expression, an awful pit of discomfort and regret in your stomach. Maybe you shouldn’t have spoken.

Maybe you shouldn’t have come here.

Maybe, despite the conviction you had felt earlier, your feelings were wrong.

“What don’t I get?” you asked, not wanting to know the answer, but feeling compelled by the inevitability of asking anyway.

“All you’re worth to me is a little bit of fun. We’ve been having fun, haven’t we? I thought that you understood,” Sylvain shook his head, disappointed. He let go of you completely, pulling out of your grip as he stepped back to sit heavily on his bed. His loss left you half sitting on his desk, hair and shirt askew. The absence of his warm body against yours was a cold one, prompting you to tug at your neckline to cover the phantom chills and regain some modesty against the quickly approaching humiliation and pain.

With that shake of his head, you had seen it all collapse inwards. Your friendship, the relationship you had begun to dream of, even the echo of his touch that burned at your skin was now lost to you. Worse, maybe you’d never had a chance at any of it to begin with.

“So what is it that you want, huh?” he asked when you had no response. “I’d hate to leave you disappointed.” Those words landed like a slap, leaving your ears ringing.

“I don’t want anything,” you replied in as hard a tone as you could manage, straightening your skirt and wrapping your arms around yourself like a hug. It was a lie, but there was no way you could voice the thing you did want without lapsing into tears.

“Huh? But you said ‘unless’. It’s okay, you can be honest,” Sylvain said, his voice hard, “Everyone wants something. In my experience that goes double cute girls like you.”

The compliment made you flinch, spoken in such a cold tone. “Is that really what you think of me?”

“I…” Doubt crossed Sylvain’s face as he searched your expression, but was quickly replaced with resolve. “I have to admit, you had me convinced at first. I really did think you were different.” He ran a hand through his messy red hair, looking away from you.

“I guess I thought I was different, too,” you muttered quietly, not trusting your voice to remain steady if you dared to speak louder.

Following the pain came anger, the most predictably agonizing chaser to misery. As horrible as the humiliated burn of rejection and his cruel mentality was, how quickly this had all fallen apart, it wasn’t as if it was truly surprising. You knew, on some level, that this was how Sylvain was from the very beginning. His rejection was validation of your worst fear, that you were just like every other girl. That your friendship had meant nothing.

But, was that really true?

You arms dropped, fists tightening at your sides, the action giving you a scrap of strength to speak at an audible volume. “You know what else I think?” you asked, the words coming before you could think about how wise they really were. “I think you’re lying to yourself… To keep from being hurt. And I think that you can… Can be a real jerk sometimes.” This anger, at him and at yourself, was all you had to keep any semblance of composure about you. You had to cling to it, or else you knew you’d start crying in earnest.

The temperature in the small room rose, Sylvain’s posture becoming rigid despite his feigned relaxed position. “I might be a jerk, but I’m not the liar,” he responded, his expression dark as he looked up at you. “C’mon, be honest. I know other guys who are way better than me. Guys with titles and Crests, do you want me to introduce you to them? You’re such a beautiful girl, I bet they’d fall over themselves to marry you.”

“Other guys?” you repeated, stricken with astonishment. It took time to process in your head, but Sylvain’s words cleared something up for you, at least. “If you think that I like you for your Crest or title, you’re not a jerk, you’re just an idiot.”

“Really,” Sylvain countered, incredulous. “Why else? In case you can’t see-” He spread his arms, as if on display. “I’m no good. I’ve never lied about that, or my intentions.”

“Oh, you are an idiot!” you cried, throwing your hands up in hurt exasperation, speaking too quickly on the heels of his self-deprecation for your mind to catch up and attempt to censor your thoughts. Sylvain’s eyes widened in reaction, the look of surprise only serving to make you feel more embarrassed. “This… This was a mistake,” you said, your voice hushed in an attempt to over correct your outburst. Tears, finally, were creeping up on you. A mistake. That was the only conclusion that could be gleaned from this mess, ultimately. Your arms wound back around your waist, your face down-turned to hide from him.

“H-hey,” Sylvain said, his voice softened somewhat. “Please, don’t cry-”

“No, it’s fine,” you muttered, hardly audible and shaking your head in a last ditch attempt to clear it. “I know how you are. I never meant for this. I didn’t even like you at first, really. But… But you’re not all bad, you know? Under the jerk persona, you’re strong and brave and kind and… I care about you. Really, I do. I even… I think I love you. I’ve never felt this way before and I…” You couldn’t meet his eyes, couldn’t look at anything besides the floor. “That’s what I came to tell you, but obviously-” An awful cough of a laugh made it up your throat, a humorless sound. What a mess. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” That is, if you didn’t drown in the tears you could feel yourself choking on before then. You turned away, ready to make your escape while you could still control yourself.

Unfortunately, he had other ideas.  “No, wait-” Sylvain said, reaching out to grab your wrist and using the advantage of the forced close confines of the small room to pull you back. Without the resistance he was expecting, his grip catching you completely unaware, you toppled towards him.

This time, Sylvain’s touch was awkward and clumsy, neither of you expecting the way you fell against him. The backwards tug had caused you to stumble and land in an undignified sprawl in his lap. Not to mention the elbow you accidentally threw against his ribs, earning yourself an ‘ouch!’ to match your unbecoming cry of surprise.

Still, he caught you from bouncing back to the floor, nearly cradling you against his chest.

“I swear, that was an accident,” Sylvain said, always so quick with damage control. His voice vibrated against your cheek, oddly intimate. “Are you all right?”

“Let me go,” you said, voice pinched and cheeks burning. Tears, either from embarrassment or hurt, were quickly gathering in your eyes, blurring your vision. In an ungainly and halfhearted way, you struggled, but he held fast. Steady.

“I will. But first…” Sylvain paused, as if unsure. You didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to let him see whatever expression you were making, but you knew he was looking at you. Intently. “Did you mean that?” Vulnerability colored his tone, softened it. His voice wasn’t strong with his patented flirtatious bravado, or cold with simmering steel. He spoke with disbelief.

“Why would I lie?” you asked, hardly audible. The words were meant to be strong, but your unrelenting emotions dictated otherwise.

“I don’t know, I-”

“You’re an idiot, Sylvain. Please, let me go,” you insisted, emphasizing the words oddly out of the vice that had become your throat. Finally, he released you to scramble and be free from his grasp, twisting upright to sit on the bed next to him and regain control over yourself.

“Just, wait. Before you go, please hear me out. I know I don’t deserve it, but…”

You didn’t respond, not trusting your voice as you tried to calm yourself down with deep breaths. But you didn’t leave, either. Of course you didn’t. Sylvain, thankfully, took that as the silent permission it was.

“When you spoke, I got scared,” he admitted. “Most girls just want me for my title or my Crest, and when I thought that it was the same for you, I… I was the one who made a mistake. I’m sorry, truly I am.” Peeking at him from the corner of your eye, you could see the furrow of Sylvain’s brows, the frowning twist of his lips. It was a look you’d never seen on him. Regret, maybe. Weakness. Somehow, you didn’t doubt the apology.

What a mess.

You sighed, rubbing your reddened face. At least the tears had finally been fought off. For now. “I know.”

“No, I swear that I’m not lyin- Huh?” he said, his prepared counter cut off in confusion.

“I believe you. You’re not a bad person, Sylvain, no matter what anyone says.”

His surprise was palpable in the air between you, almost justifying the pain you felt.

“You say that, but it doesn’t excuse the things I’ve done,” he finally said. Self soothing, he ran a hand through his hair again, not that it could get any messier. “But, if you were being honest about the way you feel, then… I’d like to be the type of man who deserves that. Who deserves you. Even if you want nothing to do with me, one day I will find a way to make it up to you, to earn your forgiveness.” Sylvain spoke with a strange conviction, as if trying to motivate himself just as much as he was trying to convince you. It made your heart flip oddly. “I swear.”

Sylvain could say such awful things, he could be so absolutely clueless, and he probably wasn’t altogether worth the heartache you felt. But, no, those were just things you said to yourself in an attempt to save face. Because, despite all that, you adored him. And that was that.

“You already have my forgiveness,” you said, “I accept your apology.”  

Sylvain’s eyes widened in shock. It was really almost adorable. “What? Really?”

“I’m an idiot, too,” you answered, a wry smile on your lips. “But I haven’t lied to you, Sylvain. I can handle rejection like an adult. You apologized for being unkind, and I forgive you. I’m not going to hold any of this against you, because I… ” You couldn’t say that word, unwanted and ugly, again. But that was fine, it was better this way. You let it drop.

But he didn’t. “Because you…?” 

You winced. Did Sylvain really not get it? “Nothing, forget it.”

“No, what were going to say?”

“Really, nothing, I should-”

“I love you. That’s it, right? You really meant it,” he said.

One of his hands rose to cup your cheek, pulling your face towards his. Sincerity shone in the light brown of his eyes, as did determination. Despite the fact that you knew you looked a wreck, that you were probably making some sort of dumb expression, you didn’t want to look away. 

“You said you believed my apology. Well, will you believe me if I say that I love you, too? Not just because you said it first, or because you’re one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever had the pleasure to know, but because you’re you. I love you.”

“Careful, Sylvain, people will think you’ve gone soft,” you tried to joke, hushed in a completely different way than before. He laughed.

“People can think whatever they want, although maybe it’d be better if we gave them something to talk about.” You didn’t resist as he pulled you closer, brushing the hair away from your face.

“You’re an idiot,” you said, attempting to sound playful but coming off as nothing short of adoring. 

“Yeah, but can I be your idiot?” Sylvain asked, pulling one of your legs over his lap. Bold, but he was kind of a bold person. You held onto him just as tightly, allowing yourself to enjoy the feeling of his body against yours. It was your turn to laugh, unable to contain the giddy excitement his flirtatious earnestness filled you with. Tonight truly had been a whirlwind. The relief was striking. 

“Only if I can be yours.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Sylvain responded, sealing the promise with a kiss.

[zoryany]

Anidala tarot card prompt!

send me a card and / or character(s) or a ship, and I’ll write a ficlet based around one or more words associated with a tarot card The Empress: fertility, natural world, beauty, dependence on others

The lake was calm and serene, the air was warm and still, and a pair of lovers shared a rare moment of peace and serenity. Both knew, truly, how precious days like this truly were. Naturally, when they were gifted with this time together, they were certain to take advantage of it as much as possible; it was another gift entirely, though, to simply enjoy each others’ company, be it embroiled in passionate conversation or settled into a comfortable silence.

Neatly set within the latter, they sat together on a cushioned sofa that overlooked the lake, her head nestled in his neck, his arm draped over her shoulders. He traced lazy patterns on her shoulder with his thumb, content just to feel the warmth of her against him. She, too, was comforted by the heat of him, reminiscent of the desert world on which they had first met, but mingled with the serenity of her own home.

Between them, the silence passed in continued contentment, but a certain level of restlessness gripped them both. In most circumstances, he was the one to break the stagnation; on this occasion, already so rare, something even more rare occurred – she was the one to speak up.

“Ani…” That soft voice of hers was so melodic, chiming in harmony with the universe, echoing through him and weaving its way through his soul in the same way the Force seemed to. “I hope this doesn’t feel like it’s coming out of nowhere, but… well. Before you arrived I… I visited my sister – you remember Sola?” Today was a day of rarities, for not only were they in a state of relative peace, but she – well-spoken, political genius that she was – had become nearly… speechless. She stuttered, she seemed hesitant, and it only made her seem more perfect to him. She was his rock, his universe, and he could not imagine what his life would be otherwise. “Of course you do. Well, my nieces – Ryoo and Pooja – they were… overjoyed to see me and… Ani, have you ever considered having children?”

She was his wife. They’d been married on this very estate just two short years earlier. At this point, he could not imagine his life otherwise. But… children… “I – can’t say that I have.”

“Oh.”

The shift in her was sudden, and Anakin didn’t need the Force to know just how disappointed she was at that. He shifted to face her, resting one hand (his right) on her shoulder and using the other (his left) to cup her cheek. “I just meant that it had never occurred to me, but that’s only because of The Order, Padmé. You know they wouldn’t approve – and just think of what Obi-wan would say!” She chuckled lightly, his own laughter chorusing hers. The stern, Coruscanti accent of his former Master echoed in their thoughts, delivering how they both pictured his admonishment would sound.

Padmé relaxed into his touch and offered him a warm, genuine smile. “Oh, I don’t know, I think he’d be rather pleased, once he got over the initial shock. Personally, I’ve always thought he’s much softer than he lets on.”

Anakin let out a somewhat wry bark of laughter, but he was careful not to let it overshadow the connection he currently shared with his wife. “I’m not so sure about that.”

The light still shone in her eyes, but Padmé’s smile faded. Her delicate grip curled around the hand he had resting on her cheek – her flesh to his – and though she was no longer meeting his gaze, Anakin felt a fresh wave of warmth bloom in his chest. Her eyes were fixed intently on their entwined fingers, her thumb rubbing absent circles across his knuckles. Taking in a slow, deep breath, she hesitated before finally flicking her eyes back up to meet his.

(Every time he met them, no matter how many times he’d done it before, Anakin was certain he would get lost in the seemingly endless fathoms of their deep, warm brown.)

“Despite what The Order says, despite what Obi-wan would say, despite what anyone else would say… What do you want, Ani?” Her voice so easily lent itself to passion while still maintaining control. It made her Senate speeches as effective as they were, it endeared her so greatly to her people. Anakin admired it, truly, but the words themselves struck a resounding chord within him; she wanted to know – she genuinely cared about – what he thought. “Because I can tell you what I want, what I hope for, but… we are in this together, and I don’t care what the galaxy thinks. I care what you think.”

It made him fall in love with her all over again.

Sliding his (right, mechanical) hand from her shoulder to the back of her head, he pulled her towards him and laid a kiss on her forehead. With her, he could always find the perfect balance between gentle and passionate, a true liberation of his emotions. “Padmé,” he nearly whispered, “I may not have given it any thought before, but the idea of having children with you… I haven’t felt this much joy since the day we were married. You are my everything, my sun, moon and stars, and the least I can do is give you my word that I will love and protect any child I father with you as fiercely as I would their mother.”

And that was a promise he intended to keep. She could sense it as strongly as she could sense his love, and she clung to those words as deeply as she clung to her devotion to him, right up until the moment of her death.

(The Force works in mysterious ways, however, and Anakin’s fate was to both break and keep this promise in ways neither parent could possibly predict.)

[dracjoonie]

BTS Reaction | At an Amusement Park with You/SO [Hyung Line]

I actually wrote most of this ages ago, but I’m finally posting it now ^^ 

m/l in my bio~ 

𝕊𝕖𝕠𝕜𝕛𝕚𝕟

So much yelling? Somewhere in between having the time of his life and complaining at every turn.  Hella scared of the big looping roller coasters but wants to do them with you anyway. Will scream louder and longer than anyone else. Puts the scared kids to shame. Those vocalists lungs are no joke. People still waiting in line probably whip out their phones to film, not because hes Jin, but because holy SHIt is it FUNNY. “WAHHHhHhhhhHHHHHH oooOOOAHH AHHHH IM TOO PRETTY TO DIIIEEE.” Death grips your hand like a women going through labor. But its ok, might need to buy you an ice pack after though. Also one of those who’s gonna splurge on fast passes because waiting hours in line “”isn't his style””. 

You might need to help him walk after the scrambler because the poor man is DIZZY, but then he’d wanna try all the carnival games. Probably one of those where you get to shoot bbguns at duck targets, or throwing darts at balloons. Passes you his extra large; JUMBO, almost-people-sized bag of kettle corn so he can “show you his skillz.” Probably drops $40 trying to claim this giant lama plush he insists he must acquire to survive. Fails. But if you can’t help him out either, the carny eventually takes pity on him and just hands over the doll. Either way he’s happy and would strap it to his back and go on his marry way. Once it gets dark and you two have exhausted all the good rides and his voice is horse from all the yelling, hes ready to try all the FOOD. Turkey legs, funnel cake, fried oreos,  fried snickers, fried s’mores... fried.. b-butter?..   

...

𝕐𝕠𝕠𝕟𝕘𝕚

Mostly went for the food and company. Oh, that big rickety roller coaster with the death drops and three loops?  Big nOpe, thinks its cute you think he’d go with you though.

 “What, are you scared?”

“Yep. Sorry I’m sane, have fun though.. I’ll be over here~” 

Happily waits for you at the side lines with his bag of popcorn, and large iced Americano you still aren’t sure where he got. 

“Wow I could hear you screaming from all the way over here.”

“Could not..”

Somewhere down the line you two end up walking past all the carnival games and he starts telling you how rigged each one is. He finds one where you get to shoot targets and he starts telling you about how they’re always rigged to shoot towards the right. You dare him to go for it since he knows the game so well. He’ll end up paying the over priced fee and gets all confident, gesturing for all to step aside. “BEHOLD.” Probably been around Jin too much. -He fails the first time. 

“Damn.. maybe to the left..?” He tries again. Fails, tries again, fails. Now he’s hooked and determined and his hearts been set on this cheesy shark plush for the past $20 so now he’s gotta have it. 

“Hey, can I try?” “Yeah, of course.” 

You hit the target on the first try and his jaw drops.

“WHAT! HOW!?”

“Aim and shoot babe~”

“WELL KEEP GOING!” 

A few minutes later and you’ve racked up enough tickets for his shark.

“Which one was it you wanted?”

“The red one!” He goes all soft and smiley when the carny hands it over. And you wouldn’t have wounded his pride at all, but you might regret suddenly becoming the third wheel to his new BBBFF.. Cheetah... the shark. 

After walking around and trying some weird foods you eventually convince him to go up on the ferris wheel with you.

“But Cheetah can’t go up there~” 

“I’m sure he’ll fit, its a pretty big bench.”

“Cheetah’s a girl..”

“Sorry Cheetah.. LETS GO!” 

He’ll start to hold your hand more in line.

“Are you scared?” 

“Of course not.”

He’s totally scared. And its even more evident when you’re up there and he’s clinging on to you, grinning through his shakes. 

“This is high..”

“Yeah, but its so pretty from up here! Look at the fireworks!”

 “But Cheetah can’t breath up here.”

“I mean there’s no water down there either-”

“Shes a land shark.”

By the 3rd go-around hes gotten use to the height and gets all curled up and cozy while you two joke about “land shark facts”. 

“Today was really nice..” *content nodding*. 

...

ℍ𝕠𝕤𝕖𝕠𝕜

Hes excited, he’s loud, hes confident. All those other times he was scared on roller coaster? What do you mean? That was the past, he’s over it. Scared? psh, not him. Not one bit. Nope. Not at all..

Until you’re hand in hand waiting in line for a coaster, watching the passengers wail and the floor-less cart woosh by at a speed he remembers all too well. Suddenly he’s laughing out of nervousness and his hands are sweating, but he can’t chicken out now. He’s already been boasting all day, and the lack of fear on you has him even more locked in. He’d be hyping himself up, loudly. 

“LETS DO THIS!! YEAHH!! THE DROP ISN’T EVEN THAT BAD!!...”

Once he’s locked in his hands would be so sweaty they’d be slipping off the safety harness, and his heart would do flips when he found he could just barely reach your hand to grab onto. Same mile wide grin though, but he’d be very obviously freaking. 

“Are you scared? no?.. oh yeaH of course not this is nothing! HA ha” 

You know when the cart does that slow climb to the top and they hold you up there for a second to build the anticipation? Yeah, he hates that. His anxiety would be reaching new highest, his body going into full fight-or-flight-bro-wtf-are-you-dOing mode. Shrieks the whole way down, and the whole way back up, and down again. It’d actually be impressive because he’d keep that high pitched note up the whole way until the cart slowed to a stop, and then he’d go completely limp. Want’s out. NOw. Hated it. Why did he agree to that, who’s idea was that? I mean “nOO that was... greAT? Yeah that loop was..... dope..? Yep.. soo awesome haha.. lets not go again though..”

If you were excited he’d try and go along with it and mimic your excitement a little. Honestly, I think his adrenaline would have him in-between wanting to puke ,and run around in circles. Probably spend the rest of the day firmly planted on the ground. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t having fun. Once he calmed down a little you two would be running around taking pictures and going through fun rooms and mirror mazes. Maybe those big inflatable slides where they give you a potato sake to sit on so you don’t rug burn your skin off. There he’d have a blast, no more coaster though.

..

ℕ𝕒𝕞𝕛𝕠𝕠𝕟

He’s a big sap, but I’ll get to that. Hes a big dorky ball of energy, steamrolling through like a dog who’s barely leash trained. So hold on tight, and be careful he doesn’t lead you into a wall, or a trashcan or something. He’d be too busy looking up at all the rides and food stalls to pay attention to where it is he’s going. So maybe snag a map or two at the ticket entry. 

I feel like if he was hyped up and had his caffeine for the day he’d be a little impulsive. Like, he’d see a cotton candy stall and go ballistic. He’d buy the biggest cone he could and then once he turned around he’d see a ride he just HAD to go on. Of course its a splash ride. And of course there’d magically be no line, but what’s he gonna do with the mountain of cotton candy he just bought? Scarf it down like a starved man, obviously. With your help of course. But then he’d be thirst, good thing there’s a lemonade stall close by. Get’s a large; no food or drink on the ride. Well, there’s only one way to solve that.

 Once you guys were off the ride, drenched and pumped up on adrenaline he’d already be running to find a bathroom. Remember the map I told you to snag? Well you’d better hope its not drenched too. 

But back to him being a sap. This man loves things that are beautiful, and what’s more beautiful than the night sky and the city lights from up above? He would wait until it was dark out and the place was starting to clear out. Because he would have a plAN. 100% is that guy in romcoms who tips the carny to leave the two of you up there at the top of a ferris wheel. And he thinks he’s being real original too, but hes so cute that you forget how predictable it all is once the cart stops. probably says something sappy like “The lights are beautiful, but they’re more beautiful in your eyes.”

If you don’t pinch him, I will~ 

..

[justjessame]

Diamonds Are A Boy’s Best Friend Chapter 49

Five months pregnant, newly married, and the reigning lady of the Miramar Playa wasn’t something I could have predicted when I’d wandered into the hotel a scant half a year earlier.  And I certainly hadn’t planned on juggling redecorating the penthouse while working alongside June, who still grew somewhat strained when I attempted to assure her that I felt more than certain that she could handle the details with her discerning eye, on an upcoming event that wasn’t something I’d had much of a chance to celebrate while living abroad.  

The Fourth of July, Independence Day, wasn’t really a huge deal overseas.  At least not among anyone other than the expats.  

“Not too gaudy,” June and I were murmuring as we went over sketches that some of the men who would be decorating brought us their ideas for buntings and lights.  “We’re known for class, elegance.”  I reiterated.   “The fireworks?”  June nodded, pointing across the beach to where structures were being erected.  “That’s where they’ll be let off?”  

“Yes, Mrs. Evans.”  I smiled, feeling the small burn that grew across my cheeks every time my new name was uttered.  “Far enough away to keep the guests safe, but close enough so the spectacle will be -”

“A sight to behold,” I bit my lip as Ike’s deep voice rumbled behind me.  The warmth of his fingers sliding around my waist, growing broader by the minute it seemed, and locking in place as his lips found their home against my pulse.  “Liz, you look like you’ve been doing this forever.”  Rolling my eyes while relaxing into his embrace, I couldn’t help but feel pleased.  Being Ike’s partner in every sense was beyond anything I’d hoped for, when I’d been away at school, learning how to be the perfect wife.  This was more than anything any of my schools had considered us having.  “You look like you could use a rest though, so I’m calling it.”  

“You are, are you?”  My eyes met June’s and I could see how hers sparkled.  Ike’s care and love for me was something that could have engendered a great deal of jealousy, but instead it mostly just made people wistful for when they’d find it for themselves.  I hoped that the men in Miami were taking notes, because Isaac Evans was a tough act to follow.  “I suppose I’ll allow it.”  I giggled when I felt his growl against my neck and June’s laugh was almost covered by a cough.  “You’re scandalizing June.”  

“June’s fine, aren’t you?”  He asked, and she laughed while nodding and assuring me she had everything covered while I rested.  “See?  Now come along, Mrs. Evans, it’s time for your daily siesta.”  

“Yes, Mr. Evans.”  I shook my head and turned, taking his hand and walking with him to the elevator, mentally taking bets on how long he’d hold off on kissing the breath out of both of us.  

Ike had barely made it until he’d given the elevator operator a break and allowed the doors to shut behind her.  Far more time than I’d bet on, I have to say, and then his mouth was hot on mine and I wondered if we’d ever tire of it.  The taste, the fever pitch we could feel when we touched?  But when we were laying together, naked and sated, his arms around me, his hands soothing our active little one protesting the activity that mommy and daddy had participated in, I felt certain the answer had to be a resounding no.  Because even then, tired, deliciously sore, and glistening with sweat, I wanted him and as his caramel colored eyes met mine, I knew he felt it too.  

Mimi, after an exhaustive search on her own first, and then with Ike and I accompanying her to appointments with the doctors who made it through her tough paces helped us find a doctor to deliver our baby when the time came.  I thought I might break Ike’s hand when the white coated man mentioned forceps and drugs, smiling as he spoke about how I’d be conked out and wake up with a bouncing baby no worse for the wear, but there might be a few marks on my infant’s head from these metal clamps.  

“What happened to natural birth?”  I asked, eyes wide, thinking that while the fear of blood and pain was real, so too was being completely insensible while my child drew first breath and missing the entire thing.  “Do women no longer push the baby out?”

Mimi was staring at the doctor like she wished she should have possibly gone through the questioning a little deeper, but they all spoke about this new great achievement and I was terrified.  Ike pulled me closer to him, lips against my temple, murmuring calming words while his eyes stayed on the doctor.  

“Do I have no other choice?”  Fear was blossoming, fast and burning, fear that hadn’t been there even when I was seemingly alone before.  Because if I was unconscious when the baby came, I wouldn’t know Ike was with me, and he wouldn’t be, not that fathers were allowed in the birthing suite apparently.  Alone.  I’d be alone when I gave birth to our baby, aside from this ghoul in a lab coat and possibly Mimi.  If the hospital allowed her, that is.  

Dinner that night was somber.  I felt numb.  Scared and cold.  The baby was as upset as I was, or so it seemed.  Not able to get comfortable, kicking, moving constantly, I couldn’t get comfortable either.  All I could think about was how alone I’d be, and how alone the baby would be.  If I was out, completely out, then who would be there with them?  No one but a stranger in a lab coat and a nurse, possibly Mimi, but Ike would have to wait in a waiting room and I’d be useless.  

“Liz?”  I blinked, realizing that Lauren had been calling my name for longer than I’d noticed.  “Hey,” she looked worried and I felt horrible for being so inside my own head that I’d caused it.  “Dad told me that the doctor wasn’t a great time.”  I nearly laughed, but realized that she wanted to help.  Looking around I noticed that Ike wasn’t in the apartment, I missed him going down to do his rounds as host.  

Sighing I held open my arms and she crawled over to snuggle up.  Kissing her forehead, I sighed again.  “That, my dear girl, is a massive understatement.”  Her arms worked around so she could hug me and cradle my growing bump, the warmth of her and the soothing feeling of just having her try to help me feel better calmed her sibling down a bit.  “Thank you for that.”

“You were hissing a little,” she giggled, her hand rubbing against the press of a tiny foot.  “I thought baby Evans might be in a mood.”  

“Another understatement,” I murmured, smiling.  “I’m scared.”  It slipped out, a whisper.  

“I know.”  She nodded, breathing deeply.  “We’ll be there, Liz.  All of us.  Dad will fight to be right beside you, you know that.”  

I nodded, feeling a tear slip down my cheek. 

[queenpersephonesgarden]

the heart wants what it does not have

Wangxian Week Day 1: Family

In the daylight the thought comes and goes, infrequent but so predictable it’s almost laughable.

There are times when he can ignore it, convince himself it was just nostalgia and old flights of fancy coming back to haunt him like lingering smoke from a bonfire. He gets better at not letting it sneak up out of nowhere to hit him unexpectedly, learns to anticipate it more often than not.

But it still stings, whether he expects it or not.

Jin Ling’s loud, cheeky banter with Jiang Cheng that echoes through whole rooms with both aggravation and affection so interwoven it is hard to tell apart.

Lan Sizhui’s quiet, respectful nod to Lan Zhan as he joins him for guqin practice every afternoon, his wide smile and Lan Zhan’s peaceful expression making for a perfect complement as they played.

Young married couples flitting through the streets of Caiyi with a small child in tow, both tiny hands clasped firmly by one hand of their mother and father as they are led wide-eyed in between stalls brimming with colorful toys and sweets.

Wei Wuxian sees these things, and he wants.

Can also be read on AO3

He wants so, so badly, half-formed dreams of a man leading a stubborn donkey along a winding road by the reins as his husband and child rode along after him, cheerful laughter ringing in the sunlight melting into the waking world to be splayed beneath his fingertips.

He could…. He could have that.

He could, if he would just open his mouth and ask for it.

Just having the option was enough to make him breathless, make his heart race like he’s run a thousand miles with still no end goal in sight.

Wei Wuxian watches a man on the side of the street scoop his daughter up and deposit her laughing into his wife’s arms, and wants.

“Lan Zhan!” he spins right around to face his husband determinedly.

Lan Zhan focuses on him instantly like he always does when Wei Wuxian opens his mouth, and he has to fight down the immediate flush that tries to crawl up his neck. “Lan Zhan, I’ve been thinking-”

The words are right there.

All that’s missing is a little one.

Such simple words, they’d been so easy to say before-

‘Wretched, ungrateful thing,’ some deep, insidious voice that he shamefully refuses to admit is just the slightest bit reminiscent of Madam Yu hisses in his ear. ‘You have so much more than Jiang Yanli, than Jin Zixuan, than all the Wens you let die, and still you dare wish for more?’

A bright flare of pain erupts in his heart, dulled only the slightest bit by time but no less agonizing. His eyes sting, but he refuses to let any tears truly form.

The vitriol isn’t anything he hasn’t thought of before, but it still manages to trap the words behind his teeth once more, grinning widely in the face of Lan Zhan’s questioning look when the silence stretches.

“Ah, it’s nothing. Nothing important!” For a moment he dares to think he may be able to get away with it, that it really will remain a subject to discuss in the distant nebulous future that he simply never has to bring up again.

But then he catches Lan Zhan’s lips pursing out of the corner of his eye, and he knows there’s no way they won’t talk about it now.

--

He manages to stall the conversation for the rest of the day, though he is self-aware enough to know this is only because Lan Zhan recognizes this as a subject best saved for the privacy of the Jingshi.

Still Wei Wuxian does everything he can think of to avoid the inevitable, taking extra long in the bath after dinner, scrubbing exaggeratedly at his skin until it’s worn pink and wrinkled from the water, all the while keeping up a stream of nonsense chatter as it comes to mind.

“-and the time delay could probably be extended if I added another stroke in the opposite direction-”

“Mn.”

“-I’ll have to ask A-Yuan and Lan Jingyi if they’d be willing to help me test it-”

“Mn.”

“-course, we’ll probably have to find a bigger target range this time in case it catches fire again-”

“Wei Ying.” A towel appears draped over the privacy screen, right where it normally would be if Wei Wuxian had not purposefully left it behind to be cause for a bit of distraction once he stepped out of the bath, dripping wet and naked with nothing to cover himself with.

Wei Wuxian grins sheepishly even as he sinks a bit lower into the lukewarm water. “Ah, gege is so attentive today,” he lets his voice go sly and teasing at the end. “But is he sure he wants his husband to cover up? I thought he might enjoy a little show once I finished-”

“Wei Ying. The water is going cold.” The man manages to radiate disapproval even without looking behind the screen.

The confident smirk he’d been trying for slid off of Wei Wuxian’s face like rainwater.

He wraps himself in the towel and empties the tub in silence, listening to the distant shuffling of footsteps and fabric as Lan Zhan readied for bed across the room. Wringing his hands while his husband changed felt too strange, too- too distant, and Wei Wuxian did not like it at all, so he clenched his fingers and circled around the privacy screen, padding across the room in determined silence.

The Jingshi feels simultaneously too large and too small for the quiet, the shadows at the corners of the room stretching into silent nothingness as his footsteps bring him to the bedroom.

Wei Wuxian finally slips into bed and feels more nervous than he has for a long time. It takes him one moment, two, before he can raise his eyes to his husband.

Lan Zhan’s gaze was unwavering. “You are unhappy.”

Sudden panic jolted Wei Wuxian into blurting out, “No! I’m never unhappy with you!”

Lan Zhan’s entire face softening infinitely at the quick rebuttal was so unexpectedly endearing Wei Wuxian couldn’t help smiling helplessly, nerves abruptly melting with the force of his joy. Winding his arms around Lan Zhan to press close as he whispered softly, “How could I ever be unhappy when er-gege loves me so much? When I love him so much?”

A shaky breath that could have been a laugh as arms wrapped around him in turn, before lips pressed softly to his temple. “You are… upset,” Lan Zhan gently corrects.

Wei Wuxian hummed noncommittally, then cringes guiltily when the arms around him tighten minutely.

“Not… exactly, but I guess I am, a little.”

“Why?”

Wei Wuxian sighed gustily, a great, explosive breath as the same want from the marketplace surged through his ribcage and rather impatiently forced its way out of his mouth:

“It’s just…. This is more than I could have ever asked for, in a life. You, and A-Yuan, and Jin Ling and all the other juniors, Lan Xichen; even Jiang Cheng when he’s in a good mood! We already have a wonderful family. I wouldn’t change it for anything! I just-!” Here he bit his lip hard, relieved that the tears from earlier don’t resurface even as his heart clenches painfully.

“I would- love, love to have another child with you. To raise one with you, properly this time. Not that A-Yuan isn’t proper! He’s the most Lan-ish Lan I’ve ever met! You did an amazing job with him! But- just-!”

“To raise them with me,” Lan Zhan said quietly, and Wei Wuxian bit his lip even harder.

Nodded fiercely with his eyes squeezed shut.

“How many?”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes popped open. “Hah?”

“How many would make you happy?”

Fond surprise lit up his heart, before exasperated amusement berated him for being surprised at all.

Wei Wuxian hummed in exaggerated thought, gaze fixed on a certain point on the ceiling and ignoring his husband’s steady gaze; he knows if he meets Lan Zhan’s earnest, determined gaze now, he’d likely start either laughing or crying.

“A dozen. No, two dozen. Boys with your eyes and my smile. Girls with steady calligraphy like yours and loud laughter like me. Uncouth hellions that run carelessly through the Cloud Recesses and give your uncle a few new gray hairs before he reaches seventy. Dozens and dozens of little ones to equal the horde of rabbits you have stashed away in the meadow.”

Grinning far too wide at the images his words painted across his mind, Wei Wuxian chanced a glance down at Lan Zhan’s face. “Aiyo, but too many at once would probably send your uncle into a qi deviation. I don’t think my happiness would be worth that.”

“Wei Ying deserves to be happy,” Lan Zhan says, matter of fact, and though Wei Wuxian had meant it to be a joke, Lan Zhan’s voice was so serious that suddenly Wei Wuxian’s eyes were stinging again.

“Lan Zhan. You know you can’t just suddenly say things like that!”

Lan Zhan huffs in amusement, and Wei Wuxian cannot resist hugging him again.

“Would… would raising a child with me make you happy?” he asks, just to be sure, because Lan Zhan is far too often in the habit of focusing on Wei Wuxian’s happiness before all else, and this was a bit too huge of a decision for just one of them to make.

There was no response for a long moment. Wei Wuxian reluctantly pulled back from the embrace, just enough to look at his husband’s face.

The small, awed smile lighting Lan Zhan’s face is utterly devastating.

Wei Wuxian’s jaw goes slack when Lan Zhan offers a wordless, joyful nod, and for a moment they’re both too overwhelmed for words, foreheads pressed together and breathing the same air in a different, softer quiet than before.

Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Silly imaginings of a little one with two parents and a donkey wandering the country no longer seem so silly.

It’s only a long time later that Lan Zhan’s eyes spark in the half-light, pale gold shining in a way that most people would believe to be far too devious a look for the illustrious Hanguang-jun to wear. The man who had married him knew him far too well to be surprised by it.

Wei Wuxian squinted in suspicion. “What is it?”

“Hmm.” Graceful fingers cupped Wei Wuxian’s jaw in a familiar soft gesture that had him instinctively, foolishly sliding his eyes shut at the painful warmth that touch awoke in his chest. “I was simply thinking that we should get started, then.”

Honest confusion made Wei Wuxian blink his eyes open and stare. “Hah? Started?”

Only the slightest tilt of Lan Zhan’s lips suggested his amusement when he said, “On the little ones. I’ve been led to believe they take time to make.”

Startled laughter burst out of Wei Wuxian’s mouth, only to be half muffled when Lan Zhan covered his lips insistently with his own. Still, even amidst such an onslaught of affection, Wei Wuxian felt the need to try and point out the obvious flaw in this logic. “Aha Lan Zhan, unlike most couples, we’re not going to be able to do this the old-fashioned way- ah! Ah!”

--

A/N: Mo Dao Zu Shi broke into my home and beat my writer’s block over the head with a mallet. It feels good to be back. ~Persephone

[riceccakes]

Feels Like This

did any of you ask for this? no. do i hope you’ll read and enjoy it? you bet your bottom dollar.

hi everyone !! i'd only planned on this Song Based series to have two one shots, Same Boat and Means Something, but after receiving such wonderful comments and general love for the one shots, i decided to finish the story. i've split the final installment into two parts. both are based on Sean Angus Watson's song "Feels Like This" Watson is a guitarist so this song is completely instrumental. it's absolutely gorgeous, i recommended you listen to the song either before or while you read this. i'll admit, the first time i ever heard this song, i cried, it carries so much emotion, and i hope i was able to display the emotions here in this story.

read it here on ao3.

or right here on tumblr :) x

It was the sweetest of dreams: sitting up against the wall, feeling Korra’s cheek in her hand, placing her lips on the girl’s, kissing her slowly, feeling Korra kiss back, gently pulling away and hearing the faint sound of music from beyond the closed door. Cinnamon and vanilla filled the air and when she took a deep breath, she felt content. She didn’t need to be anywhere else, just against that wall, leaning her head on Korra’s shoulder.

It was the sweetest dream. Asami could’ve thought it was real.

She didn’t remember much from that night of the party. She knew she downed drink after drink to numb the feeling of watching Bolin hit it off with Opal. She was happy for her friend, no doubt about it, but she felt the pit of her stomach drop every time the two huddled up close, every time they held hands, every time Bolin sat on the couch and Opal opted for his lap. She wanted that and she wanted it with Korra.

She remembered finding Korra down a hallway, she was talking to one of her teammates. They met up and found a room no one else was in. They were both admittedly drunk so they found solace on the floor. Asami remembered how they used each other for support, how Korra had moved so her head could rest on hers. Then, she woke up the next morning in her bedroom. Korra was asleep on the bay window, her mouth slightly open and her hair a mess. 

It surely was a dream, kissing Korra. She must’ve fallen asleep at the party because she knew she would never have the guts to kiss Korra in real life.

Asami spent the following weeks thinking of that dream, how her lips would still tingle, as if Korra were right there and they were still in that room. Every time she was around Korra and smelled the cinnamon and vanilla, her mind would play the kiss over, and when she would take a deep breath, her eyes would close and she would feel content again. She ached to be that kind of close to Korra, to be able to place her hand on the girl’s cheek, to look into the blue eyes for just a moment before leaning in and showing her how in love with her she was.

Sometimes she felt like she was living a lie. Nowhere, written on any stone, did it say Asami had to tell Korra of her feelings. She could very well keep them to herself for her entire lifetime and nothing in the universe would say that would be a bad thing. But, what was worse: never telling Korra or never knowing what Korra would say? She felt like she was cheating, against what, against who, she could never say, but it was like she was stealing moments with Korra that didn’t belong to her. 

Sitting on the bay window together, Korra’s head would lay on Asami’s lap. The two would be doing work; Asami would have a book in hand while Korra typed away on her laptop. They would sit in a silence so comfortable, their breathing would fall in line and if Asami tried hard enough, she could hear their hearts beating in sync. Asami could predict when Korra would become too fed up with her assignment. Her breathing would grow heavier and she would feel the slightest shift on her lap. Korra’s back muscles would grow tense and at any second, Korra would let out an aggravated sigh and slam her laptop shut.

The moment Korra’s breathing would become heavy, Asami would lay her book down and begin to run her fingers through Korra’s hair. It was recently cut, to just about her chin. She let her fingers slide down her scalp and then follow through until her finger touched the girl’s shoulder. She repeated this until Korra’s breathing returned to normal. Korra would still close her laptop, but instead carefully, and she’d close her eyes as Asami continued her actions. A few seconds would pass and Korra would open her eyes and find Asami, the ocean blues were peaceful once again. They would grin at each other, usually letting out some small giggles, before Korra opened her laptop again and continued working.

In the boys apartment, the crew would be watching a movie, Opal began coming around more often. She and Bolin would be cuddled up together on the couch, Mako sat on the floor, intently watched. Asami and Korra would be on the other side, Asami would bring her knees up to her chin and Korra’s arm would be laid on top of the back edge of the couch. Somehow, through the movie, the two girls would inch closer together, until Asami’s head rested on Korra’s collarbone and the girl’s arm would be loosely on Asami. The other three would be too busy to notice, Opal and Bolin were caught up in themselves while Mako got lost in the action-comedy-thriller playing.  

Korra’s fingers would be running up and down Asami’s arm lightly, she could feel Korra’s eyes following what her fingers were doing rather than the characters on the television. With her head on her collarbone, Asami could feel when Korra would smile, how her jaw would tense up a bit and then relax as her nose exhaled. Asami would try to give the girl some room but as the movie would go on, she found herself relaxing into Korra, from the feeling of fingers dancing on her arm, from the sweet cinnamon and vanilla making her head spin, from the unseen smile felt on the top of her head, she was never sure. Only sure that her body fit like a puzzle piece with Korra’s, that when she finally let her body deflate, she molded near perfectly with Korra. 

They formed their own way of texting. After doing it so much, the girls had little codes to make typing easier, they used parentheses to differentiate between conversations, so they could talk about more than one thing at time without confusion. Sometimes, on a certain day, their text language would only be pictures: when Korra would send a picture of a dog on the street, Asami would send the Doge meme, which Korra would respond with Grumpy Cat, and for hours, their conversations would be just that. And at night, if the girls texted long enough to get there, they’d quickly recount their days to each other and give it a rating out of ten. After hearing about each other, they would do everything in their power to help get the score to a ten. 

If Asami’s day only had a 7.5 rating, Korra would send a video of her doing push ups, starting with two arms, then one, then clapping in between them, Asami couldn’t deny she always brightened up after watching her. If Korra’s day only had a 6 rating, Asami would send a voice recording of her singing a song of Korra’s choosing. She wasn’t the best singer, but after one night at a karaoke bar, Korra begged Asami to sing for her. She’d only do it sometimes, and she made the girl swear to never share it with anyone else. If both girls had a great day, an 8.5 or a 9, they would send each other funny faces until they felt satisfied enough for a 10. And when either of them had a bad day, whether it be too stressful from school or from basketball or from the company, they would FaceTime, just so they could see each other in real time. A few words would be said, but mostly the girls would lay together, trying to close the distance as much as they could.

None of these moments should’ve been Asami’s, at least she believed so. There was a line between friendship and relationship, between platonic and romantic, and she could no longer see where that line was. Was it her fault she wanted more of those moments: to run her fingers through Korra’s hair, to feel Korra’s fingers move on her arm, to be the last thing Korra would think of at night; was she being selfish? She was taking the moments but never giving in to conversation, the much needed conversation that could lead to the permanence of all the actions.

Or lead to the end of them.

Sometimes she would hate herself, for never taking the chance, for pushing it aside, yet always trying to find those moments where time stood still. It wasn’t fair, to Korra, to herself. She was capturing butterflies in jars to take home when she should’ve been moving into the garden where she got them. Yet, for whatever reason, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

The memory of her dream, of kissing Korra, it didn’t help the situation. Asami tried so hard to find the courage to tell the girl, to find a way to show her, because Asami knew the words could never form. She could build cars, design skyscrapers, lead Future Industries meetings, but she couldn’t admit her feelings for her best friend. Sometimes she hated herself just for that.

She often wondered how the future would go, when Korra would find a girlfriend or a boyfriend. It was bound to happen, Korra was irresistible, and the only reason she didn’t have a significant other was to focus on her sports career. Asami wondered what would happen to her when the couple would become serious, when they would get married. If there was anything Asami knew for sure was that she wanted Korra in her life until the very end. She never knew how she survived so long without her and any lifestyle without her now would be impossible.

But, how would Asami cope with seeing Korra with someone else? She’d be happy for Korra, no questions asked, but how would her heart take it? How would her soul take it? How would she handle knowing someone else got to come home to Korra, got to sleep beside her, got to hold her through every up and every down. 

Asami hated it, she hated all of it, herself, the situation, her inexplicable inability to tell Korra and she knew she had to stop. She needed to take the step, she needed to find out, she needed to tell Korra that she was her future.

She feared the opportunity would never present itself, she feared she would never find a window to know if she and Korra were in the same boat. She prayed to Raava to have the ability handed right to her, to have the Spirits show her the way. And maybe they did, she just didn’t realize it.