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prongssmrrcury · 4 years ago

Text

a very bleak christmas

wolfstar fic /// one shot

word count ( 6.2k ITS LONG SORRY)

fluff, not much smut

this turned out awfully long IM SORRY😭 having that said i hope you enjoy <33 ily mwahh

"you ready wormy?" james said, shutting his trunk and looking at his bed and around the dormitory to make sure hasnt forgotten anything. he looked over at the shorter boy with sandy coloured hair who was bending down apparently trying to get something he dropped from under the bed, but struggling a great deal. he nervously shot his head up giving james a weak smile and said "yes, im ready, i just dropped something here im not sure what-"

"just tell moony to fetch it for you while we're away" james said and peter just agreed and left the dormitory trailing after james with his trunk, shutting the door on his way. the gryffindor common room was emptier than usual, but the fireplace was lit with a couple of people huddling around it to shield themselves from the ruthless cold of december. despite this however, peoples spirits were as light as ever as almost everyone was departing for two weeks to spend christmas with their families, even lily evans stopped rolling her eyes every time james breathed, and started spending more time with him and ( to james' great delight) enjoying his company. speaking of lily, she was standing by the fireplace with her hair up in a ponytail with a furry winter cap on her head. james noticed her at once and made his way down the flight of stairs and tapped her shoulder softly, she turned around and gave him a warm smile, a short hug followed.

"happy holidays james!" she smiled so widely it watered james' eye. she called him james, not potter.

"happy holidays" he managed to respond, taken aback by the sudden affection she just showed him. she looked around furrowing her brows slightly then spoke, "wheres your trunk? have you not packed?"

"oh no i have! i left my trunk with peter to um, you know, come and say hi" he said the second part of the sentence quietly, she let out a soft laugh, god he just wanted to kiss her so bad. "wheres yours?" he asked quickly. she turned around slightly to show him her trunk which was standing behind her, tapping it twice.

"alright then, lets go down to breakfast, minnie wouldnt want us to be late" he told her, taking her hand and leading her out of the common room with him. he looked back at peter who was struggling with his own trunk and james' but peter just shot him a thumbs up as if he got everything under control.

"alright wormy, dont be late" he muttered. the pair of them walked down from the gryffindor tower to the entrance hall and right to the great hall where elaborate christmas decorations were encapsulating the place, giving the entire castle a more homey vibe. the four house tables were emptier than usual, james and lily made their way to the gryffindor table where they were met by a handsome boy with long hair that he managed to scruff in a very messy pony tail, and a taller boy sitting across him who seemed to find his buttering his toast to be a very intriguing activity. lily and james took seats next to them.

"morning" sirius spoke, looking at lily then at james.

"morning sirius, how are you" lily replied, who also began buttering her toast. sirius didnt respond right away, instead he eyed her then finally spoke, "oh im, im very good" it didnt really seem like it, sirius didnt seem to be in his loud, arrogant and flirtatious mood today, instead a rather dull and quiet one. lily looked at james silently trying to understand what had caused the sudden change in sirius behavior, she was met a mere shrug from james. the four of them sat in silence for the next ten minutes, no one breaking silence that seemed to have swallowed them. remus then looked up for the first time and sighed loudly, which made sirius look very attentively at him, waiting for him to say anything.

"im gonna go, im in the dorm if you want me pads. enjoy your holidays james, you too lily" he said lowly, also clearly in a dull mood in contrast to everyones mood right now. he got up and left, shooting them a weak smile before disappearing out of the great hall.

sirius watched him so closely even when he had gotten out of sight. it was common knowledge that the pair are in love and clearly fancied each other, almost everyone in school knew that. maybe its because of sirius' shameless attitude, cuddling with remus in the common room, sitting on his lap in the middle of the great hall, or pushing remus against a wall and just stand in front of him doing god knows what. the only problem was... neither sirius nor remus knew they liked each other. they obviously knew they had a different relationship than anyone else but they were so oblivious to the fact that theyre in love that it sometimes made james just want to scream it in their face.

"you okay pads?" james said mockingly, sirius had been staring at where remus left for at least ten minutes completely transfixed, he came back to his senses at once and looking abruptly between james and lily then back at his doughnut, fiddling with it slightly. he then shot james an alarmed look and said, "dont call me that james". he spoke so firmly, he knew james knew this is what remus calls him. no one was really allowed to use that nickname with him, even he and james who had a light hearted friendship that was basically based on jokes and pranks, sirius pronounced the words looking into james' eyes, which made james know he was being one hundred percent serious. james didnt respond, feeling a rush of guilt in his stomach, he just took a bite of his oatmeal.

"how are things with you two" james asked. sirius once again didnt respond right away but instead took time to ponder his answer.

"what do you mean how are things"

"you know, have you guys had a row or anything?" james asked, stuffing more oatmeal in his mouth.

"oh- um yea no. not really no" sirius hesitated a bit. the truth is that remus and him didnt have a row, but today was one of these occasions where sirius woke up finding himself on remus' bed not knowing how or why. it had happened a couple of times before and when it did, remus would immediately smile warmly at sirius and pamper him with kisses here and there on his cheek and his jaw. however, today, remus woke up a bit more shaky to the fact that he was in the same bed as sirius. he straightened his pyjamas quickly giving sirius an awkward smile and leaving without a word.

james dropped his oatmeal and looked at sirius looking serious for the first time, giving him a smile that carried something between sympathy and support.

"are you ever going to tell him?"

"tell him what" sirius said bluntly

james smirked. even lily suppressed a knowing look. sirius rolled his eyes.

"you guys are not onto that bullshit the whole school talks about right?" he asked cringing slightly.

"if the bullshit includes you and remus being blindly in love then yes" james gave a small laugh.

"literally blindly" lily mumbled, but sirius heard her and gave her a look.

"guys- hes my best mate"

"doing a lot of canoodling with your 'best mate' ?" james smirked rolling his eyes.

"first of all, what the fuck is canoodling james, this isnt the eighteenth century" he ppinted out the weird choice of wording.

"whatever, point is, people dont sleep on their 'best mates' chests every day padfoot" sirius opened his mouth to protest but james cut him again "just save your breath will you. im trying to help"

sirius sighed heavily burying his head in his hands and shaking it.

"i dont fucking know what to do prongs. fuck ugh i hate this so much why cant it be simpler" sirius' voice got weaker.

"mate just talk to him, remus cant read your mind. and its pretty obvious the feelings mutual" james tried to convince him.

"i dont know if hes into- you know, into me" sirius tried to explain. sirius had come out to the entire school three years ago so it was common knowledge that was gay.

"oh he is" lily said

sirius blinked.

"i mean, i spend a lot of time with him in our prefects meetings and in the library and stuff" she explained. sirius blinked again.

"i mean" she began again, "he talks about you an awful lot and seems to be quite fond of you" she smiled.

"look, you'll never know if you dont ask" james said again. "look at me, i had to ask lily out at least fifteen times-"

"james what the fuck this isnt the same, why are you even comparing it" sirius interrupted

"oh of course its not the same, but communication is key, no matter what the relationship is"

"yea and when i ask him out and he just says i misunderstood all his soft affectionate gestures, then stops hanging out with me because im gay and he would know i have feelings for him, that clearly arent mutual. i'll just ruin everything, and i'll lose probably the only person that likes me in this lousy world" sirius spilled, laughing bitterly.

"sirius! you know remus would never stop hanging out with you because of that, you know it!" james said, his voice getting a bit louder.

"yea but it'd be a sticky situation when your gay friend has feelings for you" sirius said, his eyes filled with tears that he wiped right away hoping james and lily didnt see that.

"sirius.." lily said lowly

"lily can you please check up on peter and help him if needs any assistance" james told her firmly, she didnt need telling twice, knowing he wanted to be left alone with sirius. she made her way out of the great hall until she was out of sight, then james look at sirius again who had his head buried in his hands once again.

"sirius i dont know whats gotten into you today, but you know damn well that neither moony or i would ever think of you any differently because you're gay. stop saying that as if its something that hinders you" this was one of the rare occasions where james was serious and firm. he wanted sirius to know meant every word that left his mouth. at this moment he heard a sniff followed by a weak sob.

"james, i sometimes wish i wanst- wasnt, you know, gay" he managed to say between sobs. james' face fell suddenly.

"no dont say that. please dont say that, you know we love you the way you are and we dont give two damns if you're gay or not" james got up and made his way across the table to sit next to sirius rather than in front of him.

"you're me best mate, i dont like seeing you like this. i love you a lot sirius and nothing your little overthinking brain comes up with could change that" he said, pulling sirius into a hug, so hard that he mightve broken a few ribs. he wasnt gonna let go before sirius does, he could stay here all day until sirius was ready to let go. he heard strong sniffs and felt his chest going up and down. sirius broke the hug after a few minutes, looking a lot more content than he had a few minutes before. james gave him his usual cheeky smile.

"your fucking snout sirius" james laughed, picking up a handkerchief trying to clean his shoulder.

"fuck off" sirius managed to laugh, sniffing again.

"thank you" sirius said quietly

"come off it, dont thank me" james smiled at him. he watched him grab a cigarette and right when he was about to light it with the tip of his wand james stopped him hesitantly. james never really liked to mother him about smoking or give him lectures about the effects smoking had, but he noticed sirius was eating less and smoking more the past couple of days. sirius shot a "what-do-you-want" look to which james responded, "um, can you please just eat something before you smoke" james said. he knew this was a touchy subject, he never liked to mention it but they were alone and he knows he's the only one sirius would listen to. sirius gave him a hesitant look, before stuffing the cigarette back in his pocket.

"just for you prongs" he rolled his eyes, taking a bite of his doughnut. james however was filled with so much joy seeing his best friend do that just for him.

"what are you smiling so much at you prat" sirius said between bites. james shook his head softly before saying, "im very proud of you sirius, i hope you know that" sirius smiled and laughed dismissively at that statement, james knew it touched him but sirius never really knew how to respond to affectionate words.

"you're very sappy you know that" sirius laughed slightly.

"whatever" james felt his cheeks go red. "anyway i have to get going before i get minnie mad on christmas" he said, getting up, swinging his backpack on his back leaving the hall.

"tell moony i say merry christmas" james called, leaving the great hall also disappearing out of sight.

later that night, james and lily departed home to spend the upcoming weeks with their families to celebrate christmas, so did most of the school. as homey and welcoming as the school felt, everyone loved going back to their family, everyone except sirius. sirius was never fond of his family, he never had a good relationship with them and all they did was make him more miserable, he would take any chance to be away from them. sirius was sat in the library that was emptier than usual (but the ceiling was enchanted to fake snow) he was sitting with two giant books opened in front of him, yellowed by age. he looked over at the books, he hadnt read a single word despite being here for nearly an hour. he came here in an attempt to distract himself from the intensifying amount of nerves and stress, however, he was so lost in his thoughts that not even that gigantic book can save him from his exhausting overthinking. he sighed heavily, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulder, shutting the books that made a loud thud and put them back in their place. sirius swung his backpack on his back and left the library making his way to the gryffindor tower. he just wanted to sleep. yes, sleep, thats what he needed. he went through the fat lady's portrait and climbed up the stairs to his dormitory, finding remus sitting on his four poster bed completely engulfed by a book. remus shot his eyes up the second he heard sirius walking in and gave him a wordless smile, going back to his book. sirius' stomach did a funny lurch.

"i was starting to think youve forgotten your way around the castle" remus said, flipping the page of his book, still reading it. sirius looked at him nervously, not sure what he meant by that.

"what?" sirius asked, he was going to take his shirt off and get in his pyjamas but stopped abruptly. he didnt wanna make remus uncomfortable around him, especially after what happened this morning. they always had a very intimate relationship though, changing in front of each other was never a problem. remus suppressed a chuckle which made sirius look at him, unsure what he found comical in this very intense atmosphere.

"you can take your shirt off if you want sirius" remus said, still poured into his book.

"how can you even see me?" sirius couldnt stop himself. remus looked up from his book and gave him a is-that-even-a-question look. sirius slipped his undone tie, unbuttoning his buttons his fingers shaking horribly for a reason he didn't understand. he knew remus was looking in his book (not that he didnt want remus looking) but he still felt like all the worlds eyes are on him. a couple of awfully long minutes passed and sirius finally was in his pyjama and got into his bed under his blanket and stared absentmindedly into the wall. remus flipped the page once again, he hadnt read a word on the previous page. how could he? he was so preoccupied by sirius changing in front of him. remus did freak out when he found himself on the same bed as sirius this morning. he doesnt know why he freaked out the way he did, its not like its the first time. he knew that this had made sirius extremely self conscious the whole day, he was wearing a very dull look. he had to make up for his unexplainable actions, he cant stand seeing sirius this upset, especially if he was the reason hes feeling like that. he couldnt stand seeing him in such a bad mood on breakfast this morning that he had to dismiss himself early. but sirius' loss of his loud flirtatious attitude was what stirred the pot for remus. he didnt walk in the dorm and try to slip in bed with remus, or get a kiss from him, or remotely try draw any attention to hismelf from remus rather than that book in his hand, which was as un-sirius as one can get.

"why were you late?" remus asked sirius, knowing hes not asleep. sirius mumbled something inaudible from his bed that remus didnt catch onto. remus furrowed his brows slightly. he shut his book and put it on the bed side table, the sound he made when he shut his book made sirius shift in his bed to face remus who was staring back at him.

"where were you?" remus asked

"in the library" sirius said simply, avoiding any sarcasm or any joking around. remus face wore a surprised expression.

"oh- by your own will?" he said with a breathy laugh.

"yea" sirius replied

"what were you reading?" said remus, sounding excited. sirius didnt exactly know why he wad being interrogated by remus about his absence.

"um, i was just doing homework"

"oh, thats actually nice pads" remus smiled. sirius' stomach did another flip at the nickname. god this was so awkward and tense, sirius thought.

"sirius are you mad at me?" remus said, going straight to the point. every muscle in sirius' body went tense and completely still.

"no" sirius said bluntly.

"sure?"

"yea"

"okay. great then. um do you wanna come lay here with me?" remus offered, this was quiet foreign for remus as it was never him who initiated anything sexual or intimate. but he was willing to go out of his comfort zone for sirius. just for sirius.

"uh- sorry moony im really tired" it pained sirius to say these words, if he was being honest, he wanted nothing more than to lay in remus' chest right now and give him soft pecks and kiss his stupid plump lips.

"oh, okay" remus said lowly. "okay then" sirius wasnt sure what he meant by that tone, and before sirius has any other second to think about it, he felt his bed dip slightly and remus climbing on him, placing himself on top of sirius with his legs wide opened around his waist. sirius felt like all the oxygen in the world had escaped his lungs.

"tired, you said you are pads? want a little massage?" remus cooed softly. he leaned down on sirius' chest undoing his pyjama buttons revealing his tattooed chest.

"remus-" sirius tried to stop him. sirius promised himself he wasnt going to do anything like that with remus because he doesnt want to make him uncomfortable or possibly hate him more, however, this is different. its remus thats initiating it. it remus that did it.

"what pads?" remus continued cooing softly, completely stripping sirius of his shirt and attaching his lips on sirius' neck. at this exact moment, sirius moaned louder than he intended. he shifted slightly in his bed and put his hand through remus' hair. remus continued nibbling sirius' neck. he bit and licked at all the right spots, leaving a soft trail of kisses all over his neck and made his way up to his chin and on his lips, where he left a soft peck. sirius however pulled remus' head back towards him to kiss him properly, remus licked sirius' bottom lip which made sirius moan approvingly into the kiss. remus slipped his tongue in sirius' mouth and deepened the kiss, he felt sirius' hand wandering around his shoulder and slipped in his shirt to touch his bare skin.

"god this is so" remus moaned breaking the kiss only to attach his lips on his once again.

"remus-" sirius stopped him abruptly. remus looked down on sirius, his eyes mobing fast between his godly features, furrowing his brows slightly not understanding why sirius stopped him. did he make him uncomfortable? was sirius really not in the mood and remus overstepped a boundry? remus felt a horrible tingling feeling in his stomach as his brain raced between all the possibilities.

"remus im sorry- i cant do this" sirius said, as soon as the words left his mouth he felt horrible, reading the shocked and bewildered expression on remus face, he looked very hurt and unsure of himself.

"oh- fuck okay im sorry" remus said quickly, getting off sirius and leaving his bed, but sirius held his arm to immobilize him and not make him leave. they stared at each other for a few seconds that felt painfully long. both of them felt confused, upset with themselves and unsure of what to do or say next.

"can you please stay" sirius said quietly avoiding remus' eye. remus didnt respond which made sirius feel a horrible pit of nerves in his stomach.

"i- i don't understand. you just asked me to stop and told me you cant do this" remus spoke lowly with a soft rasp in his voice. sirius buried his head in his hand, he was on the brink of tears, he honestly didnt know what or how to explain his confusion to remus. how could he explain it or put it in cohesive words when he himself didn't understand.

"sirius please talk to me" remus said softly, holding sirius' hand

"rem i dont know how-"

"do you trust me?" remus cut him off.

"what- yes of course" sirius said sternly.

"then please tell me how you feel"

"how i feel about what?" sirius asked

"about doing this" remus tried to explain, sirius knew at once he was referring to all the sexual stuff they do.

"remus i love it. i enjoy it a lot, i sometimes just want the day to end only to get in bed with you. i- i dont know how to word my feelings because it's honestly just all a mess inside me" sirius spilled. this was the most he'd spoken all day. remus smiled at the last sentence. "what about you?" sirius asked, feeling the same horrible pit of nerves in his stomach increase. remus however smiled.

"i do things for you pads that id never do to anyone" he said, smiling more. he leaned closer to sirius' face and brushing a few strands of his hair out of his face. "but, if you feel unsure about this, we can stop and just be friends. i'd completely understand"

"no what the fuck moony" sirius said before he could stop himself, remus looked in his eyes. "no im unsure about your feelings to me, not about my feelings to you" he tried to explain.

"you think i dont like you?" remus asked quickly.

"well not exactly but im not sure how you feel towards me". at this, remus leaned down to kiss sirius lips a soft and tender kiss. he took his time to savor every bit of his mouth he could.

"maybe this would give you a good idea about how i feel about you" he smiled at him. "we're both exhausted, its best if we just go to sleep"

"right okay. can you sleep with me?" sirius asked, remus gave a breathy laugh at his sweet request.

"yes darling i can" he said with his usual rasp apparent, getting under the blanket and spooning sirius playing with his hair for the the next foreseeable hours until both of them were sleeping.

soft sun rays illuminated through the window of the gryffindor tower and on the entire hogwarts grounds. the translucent curtains that were in the dormitory were not doing any shielding from the sun rays whatsoever. it fell gently on the two boys that were sleeping together, tangled together, their bodies almost intertwining so perfectly with each other as if they were jigsaw pieces. sirius' head was on remus' chest, remus hugging sirius' body towards him and their legs just tangled. they looked so peaceful, their chests raising and going down every couple of seconds, it was all so perfect that one could confidently bet that even their heartbeats were in sync.

an owl came knocking its beak on the window above the bed theyre on, breaking the gentle yet majestically peaceful the state they were in. sirius shifted slightly in his sleep, opening his eyes to find uninvited sunlight penetrating right through his eyeballs. the owl made another knock on the window trying to grab their attention.

"fine okay" sirius said rasply, he got up sitting upright opening the window for that stupid owl that interrupted his sleep. the owl had two parcels tied on its leg. sirius untied them and the owl flew out at once.

"whos that from?" a raspy voice spoke he immediately knew it was remus.

"um, i think its" he turned the parcel around to see if there was any name, he smiled when he saw the senders name.

"yep, its from prongs" he said looking at remus who also smiled warmly.

"well, we'll open it later, lets just get up quickly now before we miss breakfast" he said, sitting up right and sliding his legs out of the bed. the two boys changed into their normal clothes. remus got into a hand knitted sweater and pants, sirius also got into a baggy sweatshirt and sloppily tied his hair up.

"pads is that mine?" remus smiled looking at the sweater sirius was wearing.

"maybe" sirius replied with a cheeky tone.

"course it is" remus rolled his eyes. "you literally have the biggest closet out of all of us, yet youre never wearing your shit" sirius gave him a weird look.

"not that i mind it darling" remus said softly, playing with sirius' hair slightly. they both left the dormitory and walked down to the common room with the intention to leave to the great hall, however they were met by a small table that was put in front of the fireplace with breakfast food laying on it. they looked at each other exchanging weird looks.

"there was no point of making you leave the common room only to go down and eat when its only you too in the whole school" professor mcgonagall's voice spoke. she was sitting on an armchair wearing her usual green dressing gown. "well anyway, im going down to have breakfast with the rest of the teachers. you two have a merry christmas" she smiled slightly and left the common room.

remus and sirius were just left there standing stupidly in front of the food table.

"well, i guess we're not leaving. sit down lets eat im starving" sirius said sitting himself down and starting to eat toast. they both ate until they were full and just laid on their armchairs to take their breath.

"wanna open the parcel prongs sent?" remus asked after ten minutes of silence.

"uhh sure" sirius said, getting the parcels, handing remus one box and he opened the other one. he tore the wrapping and opened it, a smile breaking on his face.

"he got me a wand polishing set. oh and look, he got me some hair bands" remus laughed a little. sirius put the hair bands in his wrist.

"what are you laughing at, i love it" sirius smiled "what did he get you?"

"he got me part six of 'crows or crowns'. its my favorite book and he knows i couldn't find that volume anywhere" remus' face wore a very big smile from that present. "oh and look! he got me a vest, it's beautiful"

"i'll be wearing that" sirius said at once

"of course darling you can wear it whenever"

"remus open my gift!" sirius said with so much excitement, remus held the huge box wondering what he has inside. he stared at sirius before opening it, unsure of what will meet him when he opens it. his suspicion grew larger when he was met by a cheeky smiling sirius.

"its not gonna blow up in my face right?" remus laughed a little

"only one way to find out" sirius shrugged

"oh god" remus joked. he opened the box and the first thing he saw was a big box inside labeled 'book polishing kit' remus' face fell with shock.

"sirius! sirius is this a book polishing kit? oh my god" he was gasping. sirius felt his cheeks burn by the fond expression on remus' face.

"holy shit pads where did you get this, these are so rare and expensive" he held it close to his face examining it with so much excitement.

"shhh its a gift" sirius was kind of embarrassed fora reason he doesnt know. "theres more stuff"

remus looked inside the box and laughed out loudly when he saw at least a doesnt bars of chocolate.

"what are you laughing at! this is the muggle chocolate you told me you like" sirius said flustered a little.

"yes yes i love it" remus smiled. "thank you"

sirius shrugged, not knowing what to say in situations like this.

"um, right open my gift" remus said looking nervous. remus' gift was something a little different and not very expected, he spent a lot of time thinking whether its a good idea or not. hes so nervous for sirius to see it, he felt his stomach lurch so badly he might vomit. he handed sirius an a4 piece of parchment that was folded into quarters. sirius gave him a confused yet excited look.

"are you giving me your transfiguration homework as a christmas gift moony" he joked.

"oh shut up and open it" every fibre in remus' body was screaming in anticipation and nerves. sirius unfolded the paper and read:

"dear sirius,

i am writing this in the dormitory for the fifteenth time at least. i thought so much about this and decided that its perfect. six years ago when i laid eyes on you for the first time, you had this aura that carried so much charm, something about your stupid gorgeous personality was so seductive and made me in complete lust for you. there aren't enough words in the english language to explain how you make me feel, nothing will come close to describing how i feel when you slip in bed with me every night, when i play with your hair, when i hear your heartbeats, when i hold your hand and stroke it with my thumb, when you kiss my scars, when you sit next to me in class sit there looking pretty doing nothing. i came to the conclusion that every little thing you do has me in utter awe. no one has ever made me feel like that, for a long time i was so confused as to why and how you could do that so effortlessly. i was confused about how i felt about you for so long, i was so confused about myself, and you helped me come to terms with who i am, by being so unapologetically you. at the end of a hard day you're always there to cheer me up, even in my darkest days, when nothing felt like it'll be okay ever again, you're always fucking here to change that. the number of times you've saved my life sirius, i couldnt tell you, by just merely being here. i figured that no matter what happens and no matter where life takes me, i want to always be with you. i never want to see that day i have to depart you, i dont ever see it coming because not even the strongest force from the gods above will make me leave you. im in love with you. im so fucking in love you idiot. im in love with the way you talk, the way you tie your hair, the way you dress, the way your eyes crease when you smile, your bark like laugh, your stupid jokes that i find funny unironically, your chirped nail polish... just in love with you. so sirius, this is me asking, do you want to be my boyfriend?"

sirius read the letters at least three times to make sure he wasnt missing anything, to make sure he was reading it correctly. was remus asking him out? was remus actually in love with him? none of this felt real. sirius felt like he's seeing stars in his vision, like he was going to pass out any second right now. he looked up at remus who was staring attentively on him and watching his every reaction. he met eyes with him and felt like all the worlds oxygen was being drained.

"so?" remus asked, his voice quivering.

"so?" he repeated as if this was a incredulous thing so say, " fuck yes i wanna be your boyfriend" sirius threw himself on remus on his armchair and splattered him with kissed everywhere he could reach.

"i never thought id be the lucky person to actually end up dating you" sirius breathed

"please, im the lucky one here" remus rolled his eyes.

"i mean hell yeah you are" sirius said sarcastically.

the pair of them spent the rest of the day sitting on the armchair cuddled up with the heat of each other, sharing soft intimate touches every now and then. they spent the whole day in peace and delicacy and made the most out of each other’s company. soon enough before they knew it, the holidays were over and students were returning to hogwarts for their second term.

“hi remus! hey sirius, good holiday? how are you two?” james showered them with questions enthusiastically when they saw him come in the gryffindor common room, he seemed to be in a cheerful mood.

“yea, great holiday” remus mumbled finding himself an armchair and sitting in it. the rest followed and sat on armchairs around him but sirius sat on his lap which remus scooted over a little to make space for him. james and lily looked at each other rolling their eyes playfully but happy that theyre on good terms, unlike the last time they saw them.

“what about you two? and you wormy? how was ur holiday” remus asked calmly, playing with sirius’ hair absentmindedly.

“great we had a great a time, i invited lily and wormy over, wormy couldnt make it though. but lily and i had fun, my parents liked her a lot” james smirked looking at her. “obviously they knew her because i always talked about her to them, but they’ve never really- woah WOAH” james’ speach was cut abruptly when he saw sirius attach his lips to remus’ and remus kissed him back fondly. they all exchanged shocked looks but they werent too shocked, they knew something was happening between the pair of them.

“woah guys” james laughed as they broke the kiss apart and giggled at their reaction.

“yea um, remus and i are dating” sirius said, lookinh flustered slightly. remus was still playing with his hair softly.

“does that mea we can go on double dates?” james said at once

“james potter i am not going on double dates with you and sirius thank you very much” lily said sarcastically.

“suit yourself, james and i are going on dates” sirius shrugged

“james and you are what-“ lily looked confused but cant help a laugh.

“thats right evans” sirius said in a dignified tone.

“dont you talk to my girlfriend like that black!” remus said at once. they all laughed at the sitiuation but lily said with a serious voice, “guys im so happy for you, youre finally together” she smiled wamrly. remus and sirius scooted closer next to each other smiling back at her.

“really proud of my mates” james said, trying to keep a serious tone but smirking at the same time.

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joheun-saram · 4 years ago

Text

To Make A Power Couple (knj) | 8

Chapter 8: Housewarming

previous | masterlist | next

Summary- Finally moved in together, Namjoon and Y/N relish their time together despite their schedules and stupid misunderstandings

word count- 8.8k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- R

genre- series, fluff, smut, slight angst

warnings- extreme domestic fluff, mention of parental death, alcohol consumption, kink shaming (kinda? idk man), dom!joon, sub!reader, smut (unprotected sex, fingering, rough sex, marking, somewhat daddy kink, orgasm denial), safeword use (yellow), Namjoon being whipped but also being a dumbass, Y/N just trying to chill, Namjoon’s obsessed with her ass ig

a.n- apologies for this chapter taking literally forever! but i give you fluff for your patience. so much fluff omg. can i move in with joon already? but also we cant have this much fluff without a sprinkle of angst.

special s/o to @himbojk, @pars-ley, and @s0seo for beta reading parts for me and easing my worries 💕

As always feedback appreciated. Send me an ask! 💌

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach, @sscheherazadee, @rjsmochii , @jinjccns , @joyful-jimin @sideblogger @agustdpeach @diamonddia-mond, @asdfghjklqwertyv, @cheesecakes-randomshitz, @goldenjongho

“Are you sure about this? It’s only been six months honey.” Your mother looked at you through the screen and you felt your heart tighten. She had that worried look on her face, the one that tells you that she will respect your decision but isn’t too happy about it. She looked different too, the wrinkles around her eyes more pronounced as she frowned and you wish you could convince her of your decision.

“Seven, actually. I love him, mom. I thought you liked him?” She had been nothing but supportive of your relationship, trusting you to make the right decisions. It had been the two of you for so long when you were younger that it always felt weird that you were on your own now. When your father had passed away when you were starting high school, she had done everything in her power to ensure you never felt like you were down a parent. As a senior partner at a management consultancy, she had long hours and business trips but she always picked you up from school and often took you with her on her business trips. Her trips are the reason that by the time you finished high school, you had been to pretty much every major city in North America. Not to mention that watching her working is the reason you were so good at what you did now.

You remember when the first year after your father’s death you had to go to a father-daughter school dance and she donned one of his old suits to take you. You danced with her that night, surrounded by your peers and their fathers, but smiling at her as you nuzzled into her neck, her scent mingling with your dad’s on the clothes. You felt safe and you decided you never wanted to disappoint her. Maybe that’s where your drive to succeed came from - from ensuring that your mom, who worked long hours but still had a homemade dinner on the table when you came back from school, was proud of you.

“I do like him, honey. Namjoon is probably the best boyfriend you’ve had. I’m just worried you both are moving too fast.” She sighed as she sipped her tea. “He’s a rockstar, I just want you to be happy but what if things changed?”

“A rockstar?” You giggled. Sometimes you forgot that your mom was kind of old school, not beyond judging a book by its cover. “He’d probably die of embarrassment to hear you say that.”

“Y/N I’m just saying. Be careful with your heart.” Her voice was stern as she looked at you through the screen, her eyes narrowed with her warning.

“I know mom. I’m sorry. I trust him, you know. I don’t think I knew what love was till I met him. Having him around makes me feel safe, less lonely.”

“He’s still responsible for my daughter being in a cast.” After the incident, your mother had grown a bit wary of your relationship. She knew he was famous but she never realised just how many sacrifices the two of you had made to be together. You knew she was aware that Namjoon would never hurt you but you still felt bad that she was worrying over what was an anomaly. Speaking to Namjoon, you knew that something of the sort had never happened to him and his members, even to his other idol friends. The thought of it being such a rare occurrence had given you assurance and you hoped it would translate to your worried mother an ocean away.

“Mom! It’s not his fault. We’ve been over this!”

“I know, I know. I’m your mom. I’m just worried.” She sighed as she resigned from the conversation. You knew your mom had your best interests at heart but she didn’t know Namjoon like you did. She had met him twice over the screen and then had spent countless hours googling him and sending you clips of him breaking things with texts calling him out (“he better not be this clumsy with your heart”). You love her but you never know how to convince her that she had nothing to worry about. “Anyways, how’s my favourite son Harry?”

And so the conversation moved on from her qualms about your soon-to-be live-in boyfriend to your business as you told her about the plans you had for your company and talked about your friends. As you went to bed after hanging up, you looked at the empty side. It was the first time in weeks you were sleeping without your boyfriend but you were giddy as you thought about the morning when he would finally move in and you would never see that empty side again.

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

“Baby why are all your shelves empty? Why have I never noticed this before?” Namjoon stood frowning in the kitchen with a box of his dishes and cutlery, something you made fun of him about since he notoriously lives on take out, as he placed his plates in the shelves above your kitchen counters.

“Really Joon? Do you know who you’re dating?” You giggled as you hopped off the counter you were sitting at and stood next to him. Reaching up to extend your uninjured hand as far as it could, you looked at him as you just about reached the bottom shelf. You were not that short but whoever designed this apartment thought the shelves looked extra elegant if they were extra high.

“Aw! You’re so cute!” He cooed as he patted your head condescendingly, causing you to scowl and narrow your eyes at him. Before you could retort, he put his arms around your waist lifting you so you were eye level with the shelves. “See? Now you can reach! Teamwork!”

You laughed as he put you down, turning around to wrap your arm around him. “Can’t believe we live together now,” you whispered into his chest as you felt him kiss the top of your head. Placing your chin against him you looked up, speaking in a hushed tone. “Promise me you won’t start hating me and my little quirks.”

“I could never hate you, as long as you promise not to get annoyed by me practicing in our living room.” Namjoon looked at you with a wide smile, as he cupped your face, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. You hugged him as you looked across the kitchen island towards your large living room. The large shelf in the corner that once only housed only your books and vinyls was now filled with pieces of your boyfriend. The top shelves had his books with his own organization system (apparently organizing books based on colours was too chaotic for him) as his little collectible figurines stood at random places. Not to mention the tiny baby shoes he had added on one of the shelves (“They’re just cute! I’m totally not picturing a cute fat baby with your doe eyes!”).

You both had added another shelf near the balcony that now housed his extensive plant collection, in fact you had never seen this apartment more green, little plants scattered in the corners. In addition to your framed posters, there were now paintings from his collection, eclectic pieces that lit the blank white walls in color. You both had even moved the couch to the corner and added a mirror on the nearby wall that not only made the room look larger but would help Namjoon if he ever needed to practice his dances.

You sighed contentedly as what was once your home now became the both of yours, your hobbies and tastes intermingling in a perfect union. The den was now a studio, soundproofed and full of midi boards and amps - it seemed like a piece of Namjoon had a place in your home. The two of you had gone back and forth over where to live, whether to move into his house or buy a new place completely, but in the end you had decided your apartment would be best since it was close to both of your work places and because it housed the most memories you shared.

“Oh! Or we can buy a new place?” You looked up at Namjoon’s profile from where you laid next to him, you head in the crook of his arm, his fingers tracing circles on your skin, right above where your cast ended. You were both in bed, a few days after he asked you to move in together, eager to figure out where you would embark on your latest relationship milestone.

“What about here? I like it here. This is our spot.”

“Really you wanna move in here?”

“Yeah this is where we had our first official date. This is where we found out that Ken Burns documentaries make you fall asleep-” He grunted as you smacked his chest at his comment, laughing before continuing. “This is where I first found out how much I love your food. Heck, that living room was where I knew I was in love with you!”

“Oh? You haven’t told me that before.” The two of you turn on your sides to look at each other as you grinned at him in anticipation.

“Yeah it was like a few weeks after we became official. I came over and you were at the gym and when you came back we ordered like a massive pizza and you were so giddy while eating it, I don’t know if you noticed but I’m sure I had literal heart eyes.”

“You know you really like me and pizza together,” you joked as you played with the necklace he had given you, his hand coming to fiddle with the chain as well.

“What can I say? I like you covered in sauce.” He laughed as he held your chin and brought you in for a kiss, humming gently when you separate.

“Be honest though, you totally fell in love with me when I agreed to recreate that porn you like, didn’t you?”

“Ah fuck! You’re right, that’s like the number one reason we should move in here. This is where we found out calling me daddy makes you gag.”

“Yes I’m sure it was just calling you that and not your stupidly big dick.” You both broke into fits of laughter holding on to each other, falling back into the comforting silence, before Namjoon broke it looking at you with a smirk.

“So how about we break out that riding crop again? Hmm? Get you in some of that sexy lingerie?” He moved his arm lower from where it sat on your waist to your hips, his fingers playing with the waistband of your pajamas.

“But baby you said you loved my batman underwear,” you whined jokingly, giggling with your arm around his neck as you looked at him coyly.

“Honestly? I love you in anything.” He said earnestly as he captured your lips in a searing kiss, moving his body to lay on top of yours carefully avoiding your injured arm. “Or nothing…”

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

The first week of living together was odd. The two of you had spent the month after deciding to move in together planning so much, even buying new furniture, but now that you were living together it was weird. It wasn’t a bad weird, in fact it was a very, very good weird. You and Namjoon had never lived with a partner before and much like when you first got together, it felt easy. Maybe it was practice from when Namjoon was over all the time, but it just felt so effortless being with each other.

You would be lying if you said your mother’s words hadn’t opened up an insecurity within you. You were messy, sure it was an organized mess, but you were messy. You tend to forget where you put things, and when you’re stressed even the smallest of inconveniences make you snap. However, somehow Namjoon just slotted himself into your life so seamlessly, you were finding it hard to believe how lucky you were.

On Monday, you came home and as usual threw whatever jacket you were wearing on the floor, he followed, silently picking it up and hanging it. Namjoon was organized and that made you remember where you left your keys on Tuesday, because now they were always in the cute little crab shaped plate near the foyer. On Wednesday you were infuriated with work and when you went to pee when you reached home, the toilet seat was up causing you to nearly topple in. But unlike usual when you would’ve torn whoever did that to pieces, you broke into a laugh, dialing Namjoon at practice and telling him you missed him. On Thursday, you had your doctor’s appointment to finally get the cast off, and when you returned home to excitedly show off your new arm, Namjoon frowned at the large scar before kissing it repeatedly and spending the night worshipping you. On Friday, the two of you saw the smog warning and donned some masks going to Yeouido Hangang Park, melding in with the mask-wearing strangers enjoying convenience store kimbap and beers as you read your book aloud to him, lounging on the sloping greens. That was also when he learned you didn’t know how to ride a bike, making it his responsibility to teach you.

“I still can’t believe you don’t know how to ride a bike!” Namjoon laughed as he held onto the handlebars. You struggled to keep the balance, your feet resting lightly on the pedals of the rented bike as he slowly pushed you.

“I skateboarded instead! You tell me that once you land an ollie!” you huffed, now pushing on the pedals, albeit gently. Namjoon found your hesitation adorable. He loved discovering these different sides of you. The fact that his always confident girlfriend seemed scared of something as simple as a bike when she was apparently doing tricks on a skateboard, made his heart swell. It was like you kept all your embarrassing secrets for him, you told him things that no one knew about you, and he couldn’t wait to discover more.

For Namjoon, moving in had been as easy as breathing, even though it had barely been a week. On Monday, he took a homemade lunch to work for the first time in a year. When he opened the box, the smell of your stew lingered in his studio and every time he returned from a meeting that day, the scent made him smile. On Tuesday, you came by his building to pick him up, waving excitedly as he wrapped up a livestream and tried not to giggle like a fool in love, which he very much was. Wednesday, he was having a tough time getting the new dance routine down, but then you called him out of the blue and it made his heart flutter, reenergizing him to finally nail the steps. When your cast came off on Thursday, he was again filled with guilt about his part in your attack, but your assurances helped him ease his mind. However, not as much as you screaming his name when he made you cum for the third time on his tongue. Namjoon had never felt so connected to someone before. Usually he would be scared to share so much of his life with another person, but with you he couldn’t wait. He felt extremely lucky just to be in your presence, soaking in the determined look on your face as he taught you how to ride a bike.

“Okay shit. Nevermind that’s really hot. Let’s go skateboarding next time,” he smiled at you mischievously, knowing that he was going to let go of the bike any second.

“I haven’t done that in ten - Oh my god! Don’t let go! Why are you letting go?” You looked behind you to see Namjoon put a thumb in the air in encouragement.

“You’re a big girl, you can do it. I believe in you!”

“I hate you! I’m gonna fall! How do I stop?!” You could feel the wind blowing through your hair as you steadily picked up speed, and you were terrified. How did you let your tree of a boyfriend talk you into this? There was a reason you had legs, why did you need these stupid wheels?!

“Just push the brakes and put your leg out.”

“Joon! Namjoon! I’m gonna fall!” You watched your life flash before your eyes as you cursed, falling on to the grass, your bike between your legs. Namjoon jogged up the few meters to stand above you, almost doubling over in laughter, causing you to cross your arms where you laid pouting at him. “Stop laughing at me!”

“Sorry! I just - you were going so slow! You literally fell in slow motion!” He continued laughing, even having the audacity to wipe a tear off his eye as you glared at him, before moving the bike and helping you up. “Come on up. There we go!” He beamed at you making it much harder to be mad at him when his eyes squinted in that adorable way they do when he’s extra pleased.

“If I break my arm again it’s your fault.” You leaned into him as he put an arm around you, the other walking the bike back to its station.

“Sorry, sorry! Okay I think that was enough practice. Let’s go home.” He pulled you closer, the bike now firmly locked and no longer charging him through the app. With your arms around his waist, you kind of felt bad giving up on learning so easily. He had seemed so excited when he suggested biking around the river.

“Sorry I can’t bike with you. I wanna share your hobbies!” You pouted, making Namjoon swoon.

“Baby we literally share like seven million hobbies. It’s okay if you don’t like biking. I hate all the Shark Tank episodes you make me sit through.” He laughed as you looked up at him, even with the mask covering half his face you could tell how his dimples would be poking through his cheeks at your comment.

“You said you liked them!”

“It was a month into dating you. I lied.” You rolled your eyes at his nonchalance as he smiled smugly. You knew he hated that show, he would always be getting up to go to the bathroom or get snacks during the pivotal moments. Well at least he was committed enough to not be on his phone when you watched together. Now that you think about it, he must really love you to sit through the marathon you had of it last month.

“So what else do you hate?”

“Arthur C Clarke. I don’t get why you love 2001 so much. It’s so pseudo philosophical and the sequels suck.”

“But the monolith Joon! The spark of curiosity and ambition! And like the combined consciousness! Come on!”

“Eh. Pretentious. Douglas Adams did it better.” He shrugged.

“I can’t believe you! Those are like two different concepts!” You laughed as he dissed one of your favourite books, enjoying his warmth against you as the two of you waited for the car to pick you up in the parking lot.

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

Saturday would mark the first weekend of you both living together, and so it was time to celebrate. The two of you had taken the day off in preparation for the first party you would host together, in the apartment you lived together. Just the thought made you giddy. You walked around the grocery store, stocking up on snacks and alcohol as Hayoon, Namjoon’s favourite security personnel, helped you carry the basket that kept getting heavier. You still found it weird walking around with the 195cm, extremely buff older man, but with the attack still fresh in your head, it was comforting having the looming presence. You had noticed that people didn’t even look twice at you, when in the past your foreigner status would have had at least a few staring at you.

Thanking Hayoon for carrying your supplies and bidding him a goodbye, you walked into your living room to find your boyfriend dancing to music playing from his earphones. Somehow in the midst of cleaning and moving furniture to make room for the twenty something people you both had invited, he had started working. You couldn’t blame him when you yourself had taken the time in the car to answer a few emails. It gave you the perfect opportunity to share your present with him.

“I’ve got a surprise for you!” You walked over to block his view of himself in the mirror as he rolled his body to some unknown tune. It was quite funny watching his concentrated scowl turn into confusion, barely hearing you.

“Hmm?”

“Stop dancing! I’ve got a surprise!”

“Can’t stop babe I have to get this down before Monday.” Namjoon looked over your head into the mirror as he continued practicing his choreography, making you roll his eyes.

“Hmm maybe Kook would wanna go instead,” you said nonchalantly as you turned around and started to slowly back away, before Namjoon’s arm came around your waist, stopping you.

“Ah baby don’t do that. See, airpod out, I’m listening!” You grinned as Namjoon pulled his earphone out, stopping the music but continuing to dance.

“You know you look like one of the sims just dancing there without music,” you joked, giggling.

“Babbbbbe! Where are we going?” he whined.

“So you know how your favourite rapper is Nas?”

“Yes I’m aware.”

“I got backstage passes!”

“What? For me?” Namjoon stilled, a dopey grin on his face as you walked closer to him to show him the tickets on your phone. It wasn’t a huge present but when one of your clients had asked if you wanted to attend, you couldn’t refuse the tickets. It helped that your client owned the stadium the performance was at and had accommodated your special requests for privacy.

“And you get to watch from this barricade so you don’t have to worry about paparazzi or fans and you can just enjoy the show!” Namjoon’s heart swelled as he heard your words. You never failed to surprise him with how much you went out of your way to make him comfortable. Lately, you’d been making him want to declare your relationship to the world. It was a dumb fantasy and the two of you had talked (argued) about going public, but between the two of you it seemed that you were more against it.

“You’re coming with me right?” He put his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him.

��I don’t know, I know I just said you’ll have privacy but what if someone sees us together? Maybe you can take Yoongi.” You look up at him with a frown, your hands on his chest, as you assessed the different ways the concert could affect your privacy. He hated how you had to overthink such a simple outing, mirroring your frown as he reached to relax the crease between your brows before placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Shut up. I’m only taking you. The whole world can watch!” He grinned making you roll your eyes.

“You scare me with how easily you just said that.” You swatted at his chest. It really did scare you with how easily he’d been saying that lately. He wasn’t really an impulsive person, he usually thought everything through to the utmost detail and so his recent exclamations were worrying you. It’s not that you wouldn’t like to post one of the thousands of couple photos on your social media, it’s just you were worried about how toxic some netizens could be.

“Would it be so bad if everyone knew?” He pulled you closer, arms circling your waist as he pressed his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes with a little smile, wanting to play out his fantasy.

“Joon I’m not risking your career so we can go on a few dates.” You sighed, picking at his shirt at his chest where your hands laid.

“My fans will be happy to see me happy, baby.”

“Ugh let’s not argue about this right now. Do you like your surprise?” You put your arms around his neck as you peck his lips.

“Only if I get to enjoy it with you.”

“Yes yes I guess I’ll go see one of my favourite rappers with you.”

“I love you,” he whispered, bringing his lips to yours to kiss you gently. You returned it equally gently, getting lost in the warmth as he molded his lips to yours, tilting his head to get a better angle and squeezing your ass as he brought you even closer in his embrace. Before things could get heated, you pulled away, smiling as he followed your lips, eyes still closed. You pecked his lips a few times before moving away completely.

“Hey don’t let me distract you. Practice!”

“You’re such a tease. Meanie.” He pouted as you walked away with a wave in his direction, smirking at his petulance.

“Love you too Joonie!”

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

Namjoon was drunk. He promised himself at the beginning of the party that he would stay sober to ensure his first party with you went seamlessly, but then the Ilsan boys showed up. The Ilsan boys were his high school friends, dubbed so by you. To say you liked them would be a stretch, since he always got too drunk when they were around, but he couldn’t help it. They made him forget all about being an idol and let loose. They were some of the few people beside you and his family that had that effect. Sitting on the couch that was pulled up to the window, he felt the alcohol race through his veins, and he was in his feelings. Beside him, Harry talked to Sehun, one third of the Ilsan boys as they talked about some tv show. He was happy, so happy he was smiling to himself as he rocked his feet on the ground, a beer in hand. He was happy and as he watched you across the room, he was also a little annoyed.

You were talking to Kang, another one of the Ilsan boys, as Jungkook stood with his arms on top of your head for support and Hoseok laughed at some joke you made. Before the party the two of you had decided not to be the couple that only hung out with each other, and since this party was literally just your closest friends, it was not that hard to do. But right now all Namjoon wanted to do was be petty and shove Jungkook off of you, wrap his arms around you instead and tell you how horny your skinny jeans were making him. Alright, correction. Namjoon was drunk, happy, and horny.

He bit his lip as he followed your curves with his eyes, watching the way your chest rose as you laughed, and the way your throat moved with each sip of your whiskey. Okay, that’s it. Screw the decision, he was walking over. Plus, he had stayed away for the past three hours, even had to watch you belt out his favourite My Chemical Romance song as you wiggled your butt, that had to count for something. He made his way to your little group, swaying a little as he shoved Jungkook a little too aggressively off you, making him protest over his spilled beer, before putting an arm possessively over your shoulder. He grinned as you leaned in, continuing your conversation.

“As I was saying there is no way Y/N is a sub. No fucking way!” Kang bellowed from where he stood. Namjoon’s brows furrowed at his comment. Why was he talking about his girlfriend this way? He felt an irrational surge of anger through him. He knew Kang was crass, his talks often devolving to his sex capades a few shots in, but did he really not respect Namjoon enough to be talking this shit in his own home about his girlfriend during their housewarming party?

Namjoon’s grip tightened around you protectively as Kang kept talking about your sex life. You only hummed, seemingly bored as you drank. Turns out you were playing a game, instigated by Kang of course, where you had to guess the other person’s kink, and if someone guesses correctly, you drink if not then the guesser drinks. Apparently you were in the spotlight for the moment.

Namjoon tilted his head, eyes narrowed at his childhood friend and raised an eyebrow. Kang, luckily for him, got the hint, shutting up with an apologetic glance at Namjoon. However, everyone else in the little group seemed to have missed this little interaction.

“I don’t know… I’ve seen hyung’s porn collection. He definitely has a daddy kink.” Jungkook scratched his chin as he slurred out the words, like he was trying to decipher a difficult math problem.

“Dude Y/N would rather puke than call Namjoonie daddy.” Hoseok laughed, wiggling his eyebrows at you with a knowing smirk. You laughed, a little too hard in your tipsy state, and Namjoon felt his blood run cold. You had definitely said those words to him, even pretended to jokingly gag when he brought it up the first, and only, time. He stood straighter at Hoseok’s comment. Had you told him about this? Why would you tell Hoseok of all people? You weren’t even close!

His jaw ticked as the group laughed, oblivious to the sudden hurt he felt. He felt exposed, naked and vulnerable, all because of you. He didn’t know if his feelings were elevated with the alcohol in his body, but he suddenly felt like he was losing all trust in you. You didn’t even seem phased, not noticing that his arm was no longer around you as you giggled at their antics.

“Okay. Time to reveal the winner!” You started, your arms wide and voice low as Jungkook used Hoseok’s chest as a makeshift drum, tapping at it lightly in a drumroll.

“Nope.” Namjoon couldn’t help but cut you off. There was no way you were sharing intimate details of your sex life with these idiots. He didn’t know how things worked in Canada, but here in his house he sure as hell was not hearing his friends talk about your kinks. He grabbed your wrist, taking the glass from your hand and placing it on the table before dragging you into the guest bathroom by the kitchen.

“Aww Joonie! Now I have to do three shots!” You pouted at him, oblivious to the storm brewing in his head.

“No.”

It was all he said before he crashed his lips to yours, taking your surprised yelp as an opportunity to roughly press his tongue to yours. He didn’t know what overcame him, he initially wanted to talk to you but something about the utter lack of remorse on your face snapped something in him. Oh those guys didn’t think you were a sub? He was going to prove them all wrong and make you beg for him while no one outside had a clue. It was his biggest turn on after all, to see you confidently striding through every room demanding respect and attention, only to turn into an obedient little girl for him.

He had been horny all night, rocking a semi every time he looked at you, and your little moans as you wrapped your arms around him now only made him harder. He kissed you with more force, removing your hands from around him and pinning them to the door behind you as his lips ventured down your neck to where your blouse started.

He let go of your hands, pleased to see them remain immobile against the door, and reached for your jeans, the same jeans that had been taunting him all evening. Kissing down your body, he pulled the jeans off your legs, turning you around roughly once you stepped out of them. With your ass in front of his face, he couldn’t help himself, biting at the flesh, smirking at your surprised yelp.

He stood up behind you, bending you over the sink. Pulling your shirt up and gripping your jaw, he placed the hem in your mouth. He kissed your neck, keeping his eyes on yours through the mirror as his hands pulled the cups of your bra down to grope you firmly. You didn’t know what had gotten into him suddenly, but you were not complaining, your shirt getting wet as did your panties. Wordlessly, he continued, his hands roaming your body to reach your heat where he didn’t hesitate to slide your panties to the side and thrust two fingers in, making you moan loudly at the sudden stretch.

At your moan, his lustful eyes met yours as he increased his speed, the sound of your squelching pussy filling the air. Namjoon couldn’t help himself anymore, he needed to be inside you, teach you a lesson for being so oblivious to him. Unbuttoning his jeans, he released his dick, already dripping with precum at how turned on he was at the prospect of one of your friends knowing what was happening behind doors. Without a second thought, he lined himself up at your entrance to plunge himself right to the hilt.

You moaned at the sudden aggressive move, your skin tingling with excitement to see your boyfriend this needy for you. Namjoon didn’t usually get this aggressive right off the bat, and his rare sexual desire made you heat up, mewling at the stretch. You braced yourself against the counter as you watched Namjoon’s face contorted in pleasure, his jaw tight as he rammed himself into you again and again, leaving your breathless and with your legs shaking.

“Fuck… I can’t believe we’re fucking in the bathroom… at our own party!” you moaned at a particularly hard thrust.

“That’s what you get for being such a fucking tease all night.” Namjoon leaned closer to speak in your ear, his chest molded to your back as one of his hands pulled your nipple while the other turned your head towards him, leaving sloppy wet kisses on your neck. You need more, needed to kiss him, needed his fingers on your clit, anything.

“Joonie…” you mewled, looking at him pleadingly.

“Ah don’t try to get all soft on me now baby.” He smacked your ass, aiming right where his bite mark was visible, making you preen. “Did you think you were funny telling Hobi how you gagged on my cock when I called myself daddy, hmm?” His hips moved hard, pushing you further into the sink, your walls clenching around him and you were sure your hips were going to bruise from where they slammed against the counter. Your skin was pebbling with goosebumps and you felt like you could feel every vein on his cock as he continued to move in you. With his hand on your jaw, he moved your face towards the mirror, enjoying the way your mouth was held open and eyes wide with want.

“Answer me baby. Did you like embarrassing me in front of our friends?” Namjoon knew he really shouldn’t bring his issues into the bedroom, especially when you allowed and trusted him with how you gave up control, but the concoction of hurt, anger and beer in his veins overrode his rationality.

You felt a wave of guilt wash over you at his words, finally realizing what had gotten him so riled up. Making eye contact in the mirror, you couldn’t tell if this was all part of a scene he’d come up with or if he was serious. Before you could say anything, he spanked you again, his thrusts slowing, but somehow getting harder. Although you were concerned, you couldn’t deny how you could feel your orgasm rising, your walls tightening around him.

“Do you like seeing me get hurt in front of my friends?” He gritted out, his gaze darkened.

“H-hurt?” you stuttered, alarmed.

“Yeah baby, hurt. You think I like you sharing our secrets?” He was back at your neck, nipping the flesh and soothing it with his tongue. “You think I liked you and Hobi laughing at me, pretty girl?” he sneered, but you could see past it. Behind the lust in his eyes, he was actually hurt, his eyes glistening, and although you were enjoying this sudden, surprise sex, your needs could wait.

“Joon… fuck… yellow. Yellow.” You grunted, despite your body begging you to let him continue so you could cum. Suddenly Namjoon froze, pulling out. His eyes softened immediately with concern as he ran his hands up and down your arms to comfort you.

“Shitshitshit sorry! Was that too much? Too rough? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” He spoke fast, trying to gauge your expression in the mirror.

“Are you okay? Are you actually mad about Hobi?” You turned around, cupping his face as you looked up at him. He sighed, biting his lip a couple of times and contemplating if he should talk about it now.

“Yeah. I’m sorry I just - it kinda fucked me up.” He averted your gaze, opting to look at the wall next to the two of you, and you felt your heart ache at his words. “Like I was pretty vulnerable when I shared that kink with you and I get it - it’s cliched and basic and you weren’t into it but I feel like you guys were laughing at me. I don’t like getting laughed at by my girlfriend behind my back with one of my best friends.” He looked at you towards the end of his statement, the fiery look back in his eyes. You knew he was mad, but truly he had no reason to be. In fact, thinking more about it made you sad that he would think that you would purposely kink shame him or laugh at him for any reason.

“I’m so sorry Joonie. It’s not even like that. I’m so sorry baby. Do you wanna talk about -” But before you could finish your sentence, he spun you around again.

“No.” He spoke firmly, lining himself once again, fully back into his dominant persona. “Much. Rather. Fuck. My. Frustrations. Out. Colour?” He punctuated each word with a snap of his hips, making you mewl, your earlier lost orgasm revving back up slowly.

“Green. Fuck Joon!” He bent you over further at your words, holding tightly to your hips as he fucked you.

“Tell me when you’re close, baby. You don’t get to cum tonight.” He spoke, his voice strained from his harsh movements. Oh, he must be really mad. Namjoon took pride in making you cum, often overstimulating you, but this was new. He’d never flat out denied you an orgasm before, and the thought made you want to cum even more.

“Joonie. I’m sorry. Please... fuck! You feel so good.” You mewled, looking at him with puppy eyes. You didn’t know how long you could hold your orgasm if he continued, the coil in your stomach tightening at his every move.

“No can do pretty girl you gotta learn your lesson.” He smirked, spanking your ass for good measure, the slap ricocheting through the walls of the small bathroom. You really hoped nobody needed to pee, glad that the music was pretty loud, you could almost sing along to the SHINEE track in the background.

“Please daddy?” You knew he was mad at you for this, but in your lust-addled, desperate mind you just wanted to do anything to please him.

“Fuck off! Don’t make me ban you from cumming all week.” He gritted out, almost panting with how fast he was going, chasing his own release as he spanked your ass twice.

“God. Oh my god, Joon!” You felt him get sloppy, almost on the brink of your orgasm. Namjoon could feel you tighten impossibly hard, and with one last thrust he pulled out, stroking himself before cumming on your ass with a loud groan. You whined, your head on your arms as you felt your orgasm ebb away, your clit throbbing in need.

Namjoon leaned next to you, catching his breath, as he looked at your wrecked state, legs shaking, hair a mess, your tits hanging out of your bra.

“Did you cum?” he asked, stroking your hair as you looked up at him.

“No…” He kissed you at that, gently and quickly.

“Good girl. Now let’s clean you up, we have a party to host.” He buckled his pants, as he handed you some toilet paper, fixing your shirt, and once you cleaned up, helping you put your pants back on. He was still hurt, but weirdly sated. He knew it would take time for him to get over this, but he still felt lucky knowing that you’d understand as he watched you fix your makeup in the mirror.

“Joon, are you still mad?” You spoke after a few minutes, voice uncharacteristically meek, making Namjoon wish he waited till after the party was over, so he could tend to you properly after being so rough.

“A little. It’s just kind of stings right now.” He spoke after a few beats of contemplation leaning against the sink. When in other relationships, he got used to just saying he was fine, with you he felt that he could be honest even if it hurt, and although he still felt somewhat betrayed, he couldn’t help himself.

“I’m sorry, truly. I swear it’s not what you think. We weren’t laughing at you, promise! I love you.” You looked at him with such sorrow that he almost felt stupid for having such feelings, wanting to pacify you, but he knew you’d hate it if he did so.

“Ah don’t make that face.” He pouted at you slightly, cupping your face in his hands.

“What face?” You ask, eyes wide, cheeks a little squished by his hands and he felt his heartbeat accelerate.

“That face! Makes me want to kiss you.” He whispered, before capturing your lips in a tender kiss, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones.

“Joonie… baby, talk to me.” You pleaded, you hands on his, but he just leaned down to peck your forehead instead.

“Shh, yellow on this convo for now. Let’s just go back to the party. I love you too, pretty girl.” He smoothed your hair once again, before moving to the door. He paused at your lack of movement, turning around to see you frowning as you looked at him. He knew you wanted to talk it out, it was in your nature to solve problems immediately, but Namjoon needed time. If he talked about it now, he would probably get angry, or worse start crying. He needed to think things through.

“Even when you’re mad?” you said quietly.

“Even when I’m mad. Now let’s go before anyone figures we’re missing.” He took your hand and walked you out, the party none the wiser of your little indiscretion. However, if anyone was paying attention, they would have noticed how off the mood was between the two of you, your smiles not reaching your eyes, and your cups always empty.

----------

You stared at the screen, the cursor blinking as you tried to put your thoughts together. This expansion into Japan was going to be the death of you. You had been working on the strategy for months now but nothing appealed to the board who never lost the opportunity to remind you of your age or lack thereof. With your combined shares Harry and you could technically override any of their decisions, but antagonizing the board further would only lead to more problems in the future so you just grinned and bore it.

You had spent all day at the office trying to figure out the new strategy to beat out the competing company that already existed in Tokyo to get sufficient market share to make the expansion viable. Siwon had been kind enough to be your scribe while you word vomited at him but as you looked at the page now it made little sense. You were kind of embarrassed that he had to type out this bullshit.

Frustrated at your lack of progress, you looked at the clock, and reading the 11:34 pm displayed there with a grimace as you stood up to walk to the kitchenette on your floor. Starting a pot of coffee you talked to yourself as you fidgeted with the cups, stacking them this way and that. You kind of wished Harry would’ve stayed late tonight to talk through the strategy with you but apparently Jen had been pretty annoyed with all his late nights so you had no choice but to do it alone. You didn’t mind it as much usually, you enjoyed the silence of the empty building, enjoyed filling it with your favourite songs as you worked through your thoughts.

Tonight however you were pretty annoyed to be working late. After the party, Namjoon had spent Sunday sulking about, still refusing to talk out what you thought was a minor issue of miscommunication. If you were being honest, part of your frustrations tonight might be due to the fact that a part of your brain kept pestering you with the same thoughts. Mom was right, you moved in and look, already not talking to each other. If you can’t resolve this tiny fight, how will you have a future? He’s probably sick of you already.

Trying to practice your coping mechanisms, you let the thoughts pass through your head. They were just negative thoughts, they did not define you as a person, do not react to them. You took a deep breath, focusing instead on the task ahead.

As you walked to your desk with your third cup of coffee of the evening and thought about your business plans, you started resenting your board more and more. It was one thing to want a flawless strategy but they failed to understand that there was literally no strategy in the world that would be as risk averse as they wanted. They thought you too impulsive, too bull-headed to do something that was low risk. They had the audacity to think that you were building all the riskiest strategies on purpose when in reality to get the outcome you wanted there had to be an equal amount of risk to go with it. Sighing, you started typing your thoughts, bulleted, on the doc as your phone rang.

“Namjoon?” you asked as soon as you picked up the phone, a bit surprised that this is how he was choosing to break his pseudo silent treatment.

“Just called so you’re not startled.” You heard Namjoon twice, once in your speaker and once from right in front of you. Regardless of his efforts, you jumped in your seat to see him standing in front of you. Holding your hand on your heart, you looked up at your boyfriend standing over your desk in a matching pair of grey sweats and sweater, a black mask under his chin as he looked at you with amusement at your reaction. It never failed to endear him how you were easily startled at the smallest things.

“Did you eat yet?” He asked as he leaned over the desk, his lips puckered. Sighing a yes, you kissed him, feeling your stress reduce at the touch, relieved that he seemed to be more open to communicating now.

“What brings you here?” You asked, reclining back in your seat as Namjoon pulled up a chair next to you.

“I just got done. Thought I’d pick you up.”

“How did you even know I was still here?”

“Boyfriend senses.” He winked, his arm resting on the back of his chair. You raised an eyebrow, skeptical, and really wishing he didn’t go all the way home to come back. “Fine. Siwon texted me. You know it’s bad form to worry your assistant so much he has to call your boyfriend for back up.”

“I’m sorry he texted you.” You leaned forward in your chair with a sheepish smile. Inside however, you were glad Siwon had given Namjoon a push to talk to you. Knowing Siwon you were sure it wasn’t a random concern but probably born out of your talk with him this morning.

He made a noise stating his displeasure at your apology and shaking his head, before reaching out to hold your hand where it lay on your lap. “So when’s this due?”

“Can we talk about Saturday night?” You answered his question with your own, dreading a mood swing, but impatient to explain your side and ease his worries. You really wanted things to go back to normal. Even though it had only been one day, you missed him. He had barely cuddled you in his sleep the last two nights, and you missed the intimacy, and as needy as it sounded in your head, you just wanted him to hold you.

He sighed deeply, leaving your hand to run his hands over his face. With his elbows on his knees, he hunched down, covering his face. He really should let you explain, but he was tired from practice and he didn’t know if he had the mental capacity to deal with an argument. “It’s okay. I’ll get over it.”

“Please. Let me explain.” You stood from your chair squatting in front of him and pulling his hands away to make him look at you. With another sigh of resignation, Namjoon nodded for you to continue.

“Hoseok doesn’t know anything. He said that as a joke randomly.” You spoke carefully, watching Namjoon’s eyes widen as he frowned. “Honestly he’s been your friend for so long I just assumed you told him that’s why he was looking at me like that. You know I didn’t agree or disagree. I just laughed because of the memory.”

Namjoon felt like an idiot. It was such a simple explanation. He was kicking himself for not thinking about this earlier, for spending a whole day avoiding you. As he looked at the earnesty in your eyes, he wanted to go back in time and smack himself on the head for making you feel guilty over this non-issue.

“I’m a fucking asshole,” he groaned, covering his face as he rolled his chair away from you in shame. You stood, walking over to him before pulling his hands away yet again, sitting in his lap sideways. His hands instinctively went around your waist, making sure you didn’t slip off.

“No I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed,” you whispered, frowning as you put your arms around his neck, playing with the hair on his nape.

“I’m such an idiot,” he sighed, rubbing his hand on your thigh, his touch sending a comforting warmth through you. “Also, I’m sorry for earlier.”

“For what?”

“Not letting you cum.” He looked so devastated, his lips pulled down by his guilt as he stared at you, that all you could do was giggle. It was silly that he thought some of the best sex you’d had was bad just because you didn’t cum.

“It’s fine you were in your dom persona.” You smoothed his hair as you kissed his cheek, making him shyly turn away from you, before he looked at you with a determination in his eyes.

“No it’s not fine. In all the research I’ve done one thing they always warned against was domming angry or like using it to resolve issues or punish your partner in a way they didn’t know what started the punishment, and I don’t know what came over me. I was mad and it was unfair of me to use our kinks against you.” He ranted, his frown getting deeper as his grip around you got tighter. With all his goofy antics around you usually, you forgot how serious Namjoon could get, and although the two of you had promised each other to be honest, it was still jarring to hear his rant. It meant he had been thinking about his actions and it bothered you that he was feeling guilty. When he stopped to take a breath, you brought his lips to yours, kissing him with all the affection you could muster. It wasn’t hard - showing him you loved him. In fact, it was the easiest thing to do, as you let your lips assure him and ease the storm in his head.

“I’m perfectly okay Joonie. It was hot.” You chuckled as you broke away and met his gaze filled with adoration. You felt lucky to have him in your life, and although this fight didn’t seem to have lasted that long, you missed him. Kissing him at midnight in your office, you felt content, your stress from the day melting away at his touch.

“Still. I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you?” He said as he kissed you again. “Let’s go home, baby.”

You stood and as you packed your stuff, he clung on to you, nuzzling your neck, equally missing your touch. Although you were headed home, you felt it in his arms already.

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barryjeanblues · 5 years ago

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how many corn cobs do you think barry bluejeans could fit in his mouth

"42," lucretia says immediately.

"42?" repeats barry. his nose wrinkles. "i dont, uh, i dont think i could quite achieve that level. i do appreciate your. uh. your confidence though."

"i think its more of a deep parable, a whatchamacallit, a rhetorical question," interjects merle, smoothing his beard (or trying to, there are a fair too many sticks for that. and what looks like... a venus fly trap). "like 'how many roads must a man walk down before he can call himself a man?'" merles wild gesticulations cause his arm to smack into barrys thigh, and barry sighs. "whoops. sorry there, bud."

"its still 42," lucretia says, turning a page in her book without looking up.

merle blinks. "which one?"

"yes."

"what didja mean, maggie boy?" taakos seated on the george washingthrone, a sparkly throne hed transmuted a few cycles back right out of the top of the washing machine because he liked the way the machine got warm and shook, but was too proud to sit right on top of the damn thing. davenport would have made him transmute it back, but it actually got taako to do laundry regularly, so.

"well," magnus says, biting a nail absentmindedly, "barry was just smilin at somethin and i thought 'damn, barolds got a nice big smile! i wonder how many corn cobs he can fit in there', and then i said it."

"thats… it?" taako asks, rather defeated.

"ye-p," replies magnus cheerily, popping the p with enthusiasm. "im hungry."

"i kind of want corn now," barry admits.

"good, because we have to settle this," lup says with a firm, steely resolve in her bright eyes. "corn cobs. now."

"well hang on just half a second," merle protests. "magenta didnt say corn on the cobs. he just said corn cobs. theres no actual corn on these cobs!"

"thats the same thing," lup says.

"no its not! corn cobs are the cobbly bit in the center! corns on it but it aint the corn kernels!" merle huffs.

"no no, thats cheating," says taako. "that means the cobs are smaller and barry can fit more in his mouth!"

"merles right," lucretia says. theres a smile playing at the corner of her mouth. "that does mean just the cobbly bit."

"if, if luce says its technically just th-" barry starts, but taako cuts him off.

"no! no! im gonna lay some farm fuckin fresh wisdom on all'a'yall! corn cob means corn on the cob! you cant just wimp out on me here, barold! stick the corn in your mouth like a man!" taako leans over on his george washingthrone, transmuting a pile of clean laundry into a pile of golden corn cobs. "stick it!!!! dont be a coward!!!!!"

"my favorite shirt :^(," magnus says, somehow pronouncing the smiley aloud. taako sneers.

"its for the cause!"

"taakos right, stick it in your mouth!" merle eggs.

barry hesitates, but his wide smile quickly returns. "okay, okay, but i, i still dont think i can make it to 42," he warns, before grabbing one of the corn cobs.

davenport walks in a few minutes later, alerted by the noise, to the scene of barry literally being buried in corn cobs. magnus is handing taako bits and bobs to transmute, taako is transmuting them into cobs before handing them to lucretia, who is throwing them mercilessly at barry. Barry indeed has a mouthful of corn cobs, but is covered by a rather larger pile of them. merle is keeping score while lup is curled on the floor laughing too hard to breathe. everyone but her and barry are chanting "CORN! COB! CORN! COB! CORN! COB!"

the greatest starship captain who ever lived, who has faced armies and death and the anthropomorphic personification of despair and universe-murdering, takes a deep breath and decides he is not going to deal with this today, and turns on his heel.

(he does snag a corn on the cob before he leaves, though. trasmuted food is never quite as good but taako is taako so its still pretty damn good.)

(in the end, merle swears barry only got 3 in his mouth, but barry insists there were another two.)

#im very tired im sorry #merle #barry #magnus #lup #taako #davenport #lucretia #m text #balance

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chlodani · 5 years ago

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This is the sequel to my first Zuko X F! Reader pairing smau.

Trigger Warning: Mentions of car accident. Revenge. Also mature. If you are sensitive to that kind of thing, you're warned ahead of time. Read at your own risk. . .

After the car accident and problems she had with her friends, Y/n, gets to experience what it's like to be a mother and have a family of her own. And finally live of life she's always wanted, but is it really all fun and games?

Beginning Special Edition Part 9. . .

Chloe's P.O.V.

I took in a deep breath as stood with my friends in the room I was getting ready for my wedding in.

"Dont worry Y/n, you look stunningly beautiful," Suki said to me encouragingly.

"And Zuko's gonna think so to," Sapphire told me as she finished up with my hair.

I wanted my hair down, but the girls thought I should at least have it styled in some form. So, this is what I did:

I turned to face them.

"Its not that, - it's just - I cant believe that today is - my wedding day - And after everything I've been through with Zuko, I never thought it would be him," I said to them.

I could feel my heart racing faster than it should.

"You know if I'm being honest, I always knew you and Zuko would end up together," Toph said to me.

"You did?" I asked her a slight bit confused.

"Yeah, I mean it was always so obvious that you and Zuko were in love - I honestly think the only people that couldn't see I were you two. I'm blind and I could just tell in own you both acted," she explained to me.

I sighed softly with a smile. In times like this, I'm glad I have friends like them.

"Now, - Are you ready to go make Zuko your forever man?" Suki asked me with a smile.

I took in another breath before I looked at her.

"I think so," I replied nervously.

🔥 🔥 🔥

I stood by my father, Treyton Octavius Jones, ready for him to give me away to Zuko. At least I think I'm ready.

"Well, baby girl are you ready?" he asked me.

"Yeah, I think so," I answered nervously.

"Good, - Because I'm not," he stated.

I chuckled softly.

"Wow, leave it to you dad to make me even more nervous on my wedding day,"

"I'm sorry sweetheart, - I'm just - I dont think I'm ready to give you away yet,"

"Well, you kind of have to,"

"Dont remind me,"

I just continued to smile. I sighed as Dad put his hand over mine, which rested on his inner arm. He started to walk me out of the room. Walking me outside to the aisle, everyone turned around to look at us. I could feel myself starting to shake a little as I looked towards Zuko. I couldn't believe this was really happening. I confidently walked with my dad down the aisle - to Zuko. As I stood before him, all Zuko could do was smile at me. My dad stood in front of me placing a gentle kiss to my cheek, before placing my hands in Zuko's. He looked directly into Zuko's eyes.

"You better make sure you take care of my baby girl," he told Zuko sternly.

"Of course sir, - your daughter will be safe with me," Zuko said to him.

"She better be,"

My dad's voice sounded threatening.

"Dad!"

He smiled before kissing my forehead and going to his seat. Iroh cleared his throat.

"Well, - good evening everyone - I am so glad all of you could make it to see my nephew and his true love get married. - Uh, - As you can I kind of ill prepared for today - When my nephew came to be and asked me if I would marry him and Y/n, I was deeply honored, but I was also terrified. - I've never done anything like this before and I honestly didnt know what to say, but my nephew, and his beautiful fiance encouraged me, - And gave me much confidence - I believe as you know we are gathered here today to witness these two become one by promising themselves to each other for the rest of their lives - And I believe as Y/n has said, you two have written your own vows? -"

"Yes, we have," I stated.

"I am surprised you were able to get my nephew to agree to this - I am assuming Y/n is going first?"

"You assume correct," I told him.

"You may begin, -"

I took in a soft breath before looking at Zuko.

"Zuko, - You and I, have been through hell together, ever since we were kids. We've fought together, we've lost together, we've won together, we've made a family together - Honestly if it wasn't for them, you and I probably wouldn't even be doing this right now. And I know love brings people together - And I truly believe it was the love our friends had for us being together that brought us here. You are literally the best thing that has ever happened to me and I couldn't - I wouldn't ask for anyone better. I promise you, that I will spend everyday loving you, being there for you, whenever your sick, or just depressed I'll be there. I will never leave your side, from this day forward, we're partners for life and I wouldn't have it any other way,"

Zuko looked like he had tears in his eyes. He closed his eyes for a split second taking in a deep breath. Upon opening his eyes he looked directly into mine.

"Y/n, everything we've been through together, has taught me something very important. Its taught me to cherish the people I have in my life and to speak out my true feelings, because if not it'll be too late." I almost lost you in that car accident and I didnt know what to do with myself. I was angry with myself, because I blamed me for what happened to you. I was afraid our friends blamed me to. But I later found out I was wrong about that. I didnt want to imagine my life without you. Everyday I spent at that hospital, was a day I hoped you would get better, so I could tell you I love you and how sorry I really was. But then you woke up and you didn't remember me. I thought my life was over. I didnt want to go on knowing the woman I loved had no idea who I was and couldn't love me back. The day your memory returned, that was the happiest day of my life. And that's because you finally remembered me. You remembered how you felt about me, but I was also afraid you were p*ssed at me. To know you weren't, made my heart skip. I knew that day was the day I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. There was no question to it after that. - Y/n, I promise from this day forward I will spend everyday showing you how much I love you and our baby. I will take care of you when your sick, and I'll take care of the baby when they're sick. I promise myself to you for the rest our lives. Nothing and no one will ever change my mind. From this day forward you're my partner for life and I wouldn't want it to be anyone else,"

Zuko put his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him. Iroh sniffed wiping tears from his eyes.

"I told my nephew I wouldn't be able to get through this without crying. I was hoping I was wrong, but naturally I'm never wrong about stuff like that -"

A soft chuckle left everyone.

"Fire Lord Zuko, do you take Y/n, Y/m/n, Y/l/n, to be your lawfully wedded wife? Do you promise to love her for all eternity? Take care of her in sickness and in health? And be with her until death do you part?"

Zuko looked directly into my eyes. He took my hand, locking our fingers together. I couldn't stop the smile that formed on my lips.

"I do," Zuko spoke softly.

My heart raced even faster.

"And Y/n, do you take Zuko to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to love him for all eternity? Take care of him in sickness and in health? And be with him until death do you part?"

I looked directly into Zuko's eyes.

"I do," I spoke.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife - you may now -"

I could hear the tears behind Iroh's voice.

"You may now kiss the bride,"

Iroh let the tears fall as Zuko held me closer. He leaned his forehead on mine.

"I love you Zuko,"

"I love you too Y/n,"

Zuko connected our lips. Everyone around us started to clap. Honestly all I could hear was Iroh crying. It's so hard not to love that man.

Taglist:

@cece-lives-here

@sokkas--boomerang

@la-lay

@cuddlykoala101

@zukochi

@mochminnie

@theblueslytherin

@coldlilheart

@coconutsaiyan

@rosestyles69

@juniperwoodwell

@crazylokonugget

@fanficflaneuse

@dailytrashypanda

@pillowpandas5

If you want to be apart of the taglist message me or reply. I'd be happy to add you

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rqs902 · 5 years ago

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enyu’s mom calls him "公子哥" is he rich or is this a JOKE LOL and his mom is at a bar IM CRYING HAHA

i just get a feeling youku eliminated shiwei for dramatic effect...

but aw xue en crying over weihao and mxy saying star master kids are all worthy to lin mo

L O L i was gonna be like oh thats nice enyu’s dad asked about his friends, he’s really been paying attention but then he starts throwing these

L O L I SEE WHERE HE GETS HIS REALNESS FROM HAHAHHAHA

LOL NOW HE KNOWS HOW IT FEELS

omg xikan wanting to call luo zheng!!!! im grateful theyre still close, theyre doing such different things now

awww mubo !!! being all supportive and protective of zuo ye

hHAHAHA omg fan yu talking on the phone to renyu is so cute, so expressive with the gasp when renyu says they just recorded elims and then the AHHHH and OH MY GOD when he says he and zaixi were eliminated and the ALSKJLAKS and loud sigh when renyu reveals he just tricked him hahahaha theyre so cute omg can fan yu pls show up at the next perf, id die

lin ran’s “new world new me” im cry

lol renyu’s getting roasted by his team mates but at least they didnt really ditch him

what is this set up anyway? theyre given a mission to leave, so theyre allowed to run around... but not? who planned this lol youku......

LOL jin fan tryin to reason why theyll be ok going to guangzhou

did their group just get special permission bc director li hao?

hahaha ayyy zhan yu jumped first, you go child! not surprised somehow that he’d love it

lin mo’s group went to the same place? LOL but also they seem so much more under control LOL such a guai group

LOL WHY ARE THEY SO LOUD HAHAHAH i dont think ive ever seen people that loud on a roller coaster LOL

LOL why am i not surprised enyu is the one carrying xzx

i cant with xzx and his heelys omg

leave it to csp to relate bungee jumping to some great deeper meaning for zlj’s personal growth hahahah but good on the kid for going through with it. interesting that zixin said he sees himself in zlj so much

HAHAHHAHA THIS FACE

when reminded he’s the hormone representative his face changed so fast im crying

ycw is laughing his butt off and i love how it says “children’s playground” in the background

when ycw gets thoroughly ignored

HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA OSCAR’S SSHHHHHHHH AND XUE EN TELLS HIM TO WATCH HIS “LANGUAGE LANGUAGE” HAHAHAHHA

i just realized theres an english speaking line in this group :’) syh, xue en, oscar

awwwwwwwwww them all planning to sing him happy birthday on the dot and setting it up so he can be at the top at that moment awwww thats so fun

LOL the way that oscar cursed his way to the top and is sweating so hard LOL the poor kid omg HAHAHHA

aw he can tell syh drew the card

LOL ITS OKAY OSCAR I STRUGGLE WITH READING TOO

get you a friend like ycw who’ll tell you that you can decide how to pronounce words right, just because its your birthday

struggling to read xue en’s handwriting LOL

HHAHAHAHHAHAHA HOW DOES XZX RECOGNIZE IT’S HUANG ENYU BY FEELING HIS PECS HAHAHHAHA

i feel the need to just say huang junrong looks so adorable in his bright yellow outfit hahah

there’s two types of kids in this group: hjr and enyu screaming their butts off, and lin mo and xzx wallowing in regret of their life decisions

hjr and enyu always saying its too short when the ride ends LOL

lin mo talking real talk over dinner about their feelings BC HES A REAL LEADER and knows how important it is to address this. these concerns are obviously very present in his mind, even when theyre out having fun to relax, and he’s still trying his best to figure out how he can help them and motivate them.

makes sense that they would include enyu interview clips bc hes surely spouting the real talk, but i think its interesting its mainly him and lin mo getting screen time.

enyu would be the one to speak up and say something when lin mo is trying to talk to them though. i think theyre both right though, im guessing lin mo is in part too nice, bc he doesnt feel comfortable enough with them to be as strict as he normally is, bc he knows they have reason to not be motivated and he feels bad for them. but at the same time, he brings up a good point that they themselves need to have their own motivation. it cant just be him putting in effort. and i HUGELY respect that he is telling this to them straight up bc its a hard conversation to have, esp bc im sure he wants them to like him as a friend. but i respect that he knows if they have problems they have to air them out bc lack of communication will be too costly.

momo is lucky he has someone like enyu on his team who’ll actually talk to him with real opinions rather than just hide in fear of disrupting the status quo. literally enyu is the one voicing that he doesnt want takeout and he doesnt want to stay up late, and other people agree, but the surprise on lin mo’s face just tells you that he wouldnt have even realized these are things that are bothering his teammates unless they straight up told him, and thankfully enyu did, bc lin mo thankfully is reasonable and willing to change his habits for the sake of the group TO HELP THEM. hes willing to do anything he can to help them, as long as they tell him what they want from him. huang enyu’s lesson in communication, dont let people guess, just tell them straight up

its interesting bc its clear enyu respects lin mo a lot, says he has the experience and the skill and the right to yell at them to get it together, but hes still not afraid to tell lin mo he thinks lin mo should be more strict with them. and then i respect lin mo for not backing down when being criticized and for strongly insisting that they need to put in effort themselves too. he cant force them to do anything they dont want to do themselves. they themselves have to want to do well.

lin mo is really out here taking care of his group of children and leading them and helping them and looking out for them and im just floored by his leadership yet again. i really hope they can pull it together.

lin mo is a dork and stanning him leads to mostly either second-hand embarrassment or disappointment. from qcyn to snzm, it just always feels like he’s being mistreated and taken advantage of and stepped on, and sad things just keep happening to him. but then he has these moments where he reminds you of why he’s worth stanning. why it’s worth waiting for something good to finally actually happen. and why he deserves those good things. its just so nice to see hes getting some appreciation and recognition for the things he does. at least youku let us see his leadership in action.

totally not surprised akey is there to drive the conversation for their group’s real talk time. tyger co-leader translates clearly hahah

LOL LI HAO TOTALLY FORGOT THE SNZM DANCE LOL

im like not surprised xikan’s group got the least adventurous adventure bc hes not afraid to show how serious hes taking this competition, but also somehow still feel like hes not getting better treatment relative to being number one?? maybe im just overthinking

honestly all things considered im okay with this being the debut group

i mean i love ycw and zry but i feel like this makes sense to me.

this looks scary lol lin ran wyd

but yea even the way they framed the cliff hanger for next week... why do i just feel like xikan is not being treated with the respect he deserves??

anywayyyyyyyyyyyy for 少年營業中

LOL gz’s impression of zlj watching scary movies sounds so accurate im ded

zixin is so adorable!! i love his outfit too ahhah

LOL gz’s sassy response to zlj responding when xue en says he’s gonna talk about a cute trainee with highly regarded visuals

why am i totally not surprised xue en didnt get scared but zixin got scared AGAIN lol

why do i suddenly get the realization that we hardly ever see ycw and zlj interact

it just feels weird to see them together even tho they obviously have overlapping friend groups lol....

poor shiwei isnt even here and they keep talking about him LOL at least theyre not even really roasting him LOL ycw and yzx too nice for that

im just DYING at the cto gege’s laughing SO HARD HAHAHA

and ycw’s face LOL

xue en’s laugh made this ep worth it LOL

wow should i be happy that lin mo is finally in the next ep of this side show, or sad that jin fan never got to appear and itll be the last ep :( im also excited to see lin ran again! wow its weird to think that snzm is ending soon, it felt like the first 7 eps were like a slow burn and now its a mad rush to the end

#rants #in which i get in deep enyu and lin mo feels

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hmorris0712 · 6 years ago

Text

stay with me~ tyler joseph x reader

a/n: hey guys! i’m back with a short lil drabble to keep y’all entertained while i try to think of some new ideas 🤪✊🏻

warnings: tw?? (near-suicidal event)

your p.o.v.

that was supposed to be it.

you were supposed to have fallen off that rooftop.

isn’t that how gravity works?

apparently you were too caught up in your thoughts to hear the desperate calling of someone behind you, telling you to wait, to not step over that ledge.

but you did. and you should have fallen.

but you don’t.

instead of falling, you feel a hand grab hold of your wrist tightly, preventing your body from going over the ledge. you turn your head, face stricken with tears, at the person who prevented your plans from fulfillment.

it’s a man.

a young man. he looks to be in his early 20’s, only a little older than yourself. his eyes are full of worry and fear, the same fear that’s written all over his face. yet through that concern and fear, he seems oddly calm.

he stays in the position for a few seconds, holding onto your arm, chest heaving from the rack of fear that ran through his body before he caught you.

fresh tears start to trickle down your face as he slowly pulls you back onto the rooftop, a safe distance from the ledge. “why would you do that?” you croak quietly. he swallows nervously before speaking. “because you deserve a second chance.” he says, his hand still on your wrist, but not as tight.

you bite your lip as it quavers a bit. “a chance at what? there’s nothing left for me here.” you manage to choke out before beginning to slowly break down all over again.

the man moves his hand from your wrist to your own hand and gives it a small squeeze. “there’s so much more. trust me, i know.” he reassures you sweetly.

“do you really though?” you ask, somewhat bitterly. you don’t know why you became angry all of a sudden. “everyone always says they know what i’m going through, that they know my pain, but they don’t. they just feel bad for me. they don’t actually care for me, and i don’t believe you do either.” you spit out through soft sobs, looking at him through teary eyes.

“i understand more than you realize.” he says quietly. you shake your head, hot tears hitting your cheeks. “no, no you don’t. you couldn’t understand, i can’t- i cant just go back to my life! all my friends left me because they hate me, my boyfriend broke up with me because he hated me, even my own family hates me. the people i was raised with who are supposed to love me, even they turned on me. i don’t know what i did to make everyone hate me but they just do. there’s literally nothing left for me anymore, i have no one!” you yell as sobs rack your body and you cry into your hands.

“then stay with me.” he suggests timidly. he draws a long breath in. “i can be someone.” he says as he reaches toward you, causing you to look up at him. he retracts his hands and sighs, closing his eyes. “i’m sorry, that might be too forward. but if you want...if you’d let me.....” he opens his eyes again to see how you’re taking in his offer. you wrap your arms around yourself. “w-why would you care?” you say with a sniff, reaching a hand up to your face to to dry your cheek.

he hesitates a few seconds. “because i used to be in this exact same spot. not literally, but mentally. i came pretty close to ending it all myself.” he explains slowly, eyes watching you intently to make sure you don’t decide to do anything sporadic like turning and jumping off that ledge a second time.

each time he speaks and looks at you, you expect him to be cold like everyone else who’s spoken to you before, but he’s not. his eyes are warm and soft, and his voice is loving and caring, completely different than anyone else you’ve ever known or encountered.

you sniff and begin to wipe your eyes, guilt starting to settle within you. “i’m sorry i snapped at you.” you say weakly. he smiles, something you haven’t been shown in a long while. “it’s okay. i get it.”

you take in a breath and try to calm yourself a little. “how did you do it?” you look up at him with timid eyes. “make it through, i mean. what stopped you from...you know....” you add on, voice starting to waver as you near the verge of crying again.

“someone came along and helped me out of the hole i dug myself into.” he said, looking down at your hand, which had joined with his at some point, before slowly letting go of it, letting it drop to your side.

“and why are you here?” you ask, trying to blink back the tears that are threatening to spill over your eyelids. he smiles again and looks into your eyes. “to give you the chance to start over.” he states simply. you feel the tears start falling again. no one’s shown you anything remotely close to compassion in the longest time.

you don’t know what came over you, but you surge forward and cling to the man in front of you, gripping the back of his shirt as sobs rack through your body. his arms wrap around you in the most comforting way as you cry into his shirt, and for the first time in a very, very long time, you feel safe.

he smoothes your hair with his hand a few times before pulling back, smile still adorning his face. he extends his hand out towards you. “i’m tyler by the way.”

you wipe your face and dry your hands in your jeans. “(y/n).” you say as you shake his hand timidly. you sniff a couple times. “thank you.” you say to him. he shakes his head once. “don’t mention it.”

~three years later~

“do you, (y/n) (l/n), take this, tyler joseph, to be your lawfully wedded husband, in strength and in health, until death do you part?” the priest asks, smiling at you and your fiancé.

you smile, happy tears brimming your eyes. “i do.” you say, looking into the eyes of your almost husband. looking at them, you see immense joy reflected back at you, making your smile grow even more.

the priest then turns to tyler. “and do you, tyler joseph, take this, (y/n) (l/n), to be your lawfully wedded wife in strength and in health ‘till death do you part?” tyler squeezes your hands. “i do.” he states happily.

“then, i now pronounce you, husband and wife.” you laugh as a joyful tear cascades slowly down your cheek. tyler swiftly brings his hand up to your face and wipes it off with his thumb with a giggle himself. the priest smiles at tyler.

“tyler, you may now kiss your bride.”

and with those seven words began your happily ever after with the love of your life. the man who cared enough to give you a second chance, a chance to start over. you, of all people, a complete stranger at the time. and for some reason, he cared for you.

but you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

end <3

#twenty one pilots #twenty one pilots fanfiction #twenty one pilots imagine #tyler joseph #tyler joseph imagine #tyler joseph x reader

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swishandflickwit · 6 years ago

Text

Marichat/Adrinette — somehow i know (he's always with me) 1/1

Summary: Somehow, they always find their way back here.

Adrinette + piano + Identity Reveal

Sequel to anywhere you go (let me go too)

Words: 10.8k

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: Stormy Weather 2 spoilers!

AN: Me working on the sequel that no one really asked for instead of finishing the ones that were asked for lmao.

As the French would say, c'est la vie.

Also on ff.net | AO3

Other writing

"You snore in your sleep, you know.”

Marinette gapes.

“I do not!”

Beside her, Chat Noir giggles and though she feels heat creep up her face in whorls of blooming red—she cannot help but laugh along with him.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about!” he reassures with an innocent bat of his eyelashes.

(It should have been her first clue)

And because she is Marinette, she rolls her eyes but believes it to be the end of that particular line of conversation, anyway.

(She should have known better)

“Besides, it was a cute snore,” he continues boldly. “Like, really cute. Like—”

Chat proceeds to emit some rather inelegant snorts. Rumbling, gurgling, disjointed and completely over exaggerated growls which seem to stem deeply within his throat in harsh exhalations. She would have worried, had he not been expelling them at her expense.

(She really, really should have known)

“Get out,” she deadpans, or at least she tries to, amongst his obnoxious grunting and chortling.

“Like an adorable, black-haired, blue-eyed, baby pig,” he wheezes.

“I will push you off this this balcony.”

He halts his amusement in favor of flexing an arm in front of her.

“Not with these muscles, you couldn’t—Eep! ”

It is her turn to laugh something fierce and relentless as he squeals his surprise—a tinny, high-pitched and utterly girlish sound that tickles her to no end—and scrambles for the metal balustrade, though it remains stationary beneath him.

“You were saying?” she inquires sweetly, guilelessly, even as her hold on his bicep remains his only salvation from slipping off his precarious perch on her railing.

(As if he couldn’t catch himself! And not that she would let him fall, of course.

...maybe)

“Marinette,” he whines. She does not capitulate, seeking retribution for herself with another cackle.

“Say the words,” she coos. He narrows his eyes at her. “What words?”

She sticks out her tongue before huffing. “You know…”

Another mewl from Chat, before he sighs. Marinette crows her victory and delight.

“I’m sorry,” he yips through gritted teeth. She tuts.

“I’m sure you can do better than that,” she comments, leaning into his space in feigned flirtation as she drops her voice and teases him airily. Something shifts just then. It drains the mirth from his face, slips the smile from his mouth—but not the light from his eyes. No, that is ever glowing… ever present. But there is something serious about the way he looks at her every time he does it, and he has done it more often than not in the past week since they played the piano together at midnight, her falling asleep on his shoulder, him taking her home and then tucking her in.

Internally, she groans as the memory of the morning after comes to her and she saw she was no longer in the school but in her room. In her bed. There was only one way she could have gotten there, considering her last recollection was of Chat Noir’s elegant fingers flying over the keys, the stark contrast of his ebony gloves against the white scales enticing her designer’s eye as remnants of the music he played swirled within her mind and lulled her to slumber.

Thinking about it still makes her blush like mad, though nothing salacious happened. Yet no one but her parents, Alya and Tikki had ever seen her asleep. So for Chat Noir to, it was a moment of vulnerability, and it was… private. It felt intensely intimate. It was sacred. She doesn’t know where they stand because of it, and now it's as though they are not in the same place in their companionship—is it a parallel plane or has it ascended? Or maybe they hadn’t moved at all and she was building it in her head? And it isn’t as if she’s uncomfortable with this new stance they are taking with each other. If anything, their friendship feels stronger than ever despite the masks they continue to wear, both the literal and figurative kind. But even that armor is slowly chipping away, chink by little chink, so that she has to be careful around him lest she give herself away. And she wants to. Bon dieu, does she ever want to.

(To the point that she begins to ask herself, in the nights when Tikki falls asleep before her and she has only her thoughts for company, so what am I waiting for? Why don’t I just tell him? )

(She knows why)

But she doesn’t tell him the truth of her identity, and here they are. And it’s moments like these, when he looks at her and it’s as if everything apart from the two of them fades, she just, she does. not. know. She does not know anything except everything is changed. Somewhere between him saving her and promise me and a forehead kiss. Between sunsets and macaron snacks and late night rooftop conversations. Between the smiles and the laughter and the music and his arms around her… things are different.

They are different.

“Marinette,” he murmurs, hands easing so that one finally grabs hold of the bannister while the other… the other one inches ever so gently up the length of her arm. She's never been more grateful for her blazer, as it conceals the goosebumps that trail in his wake, his fingers dancing up her porcelain skin so it feels more like the ivory of a piano than flesh.

“Marinette,” he trills once more, her gaze ripping from the path he makes so she meets his eyes. He bites his lip, as if to contain his smile. She pouts, and that's when his hand meets its journey's end at her chin, his thumb tracing the bow of her bottom lip.

“I am sorry, princess.”

She groans at the nickname he can't seem to let go of. He chuckles at her obvious ire, though it doesn't dim the sincerity from his apology.

“Ok, not a princess then,” he yields, albeit with a hint of that omnipresent mischief. “But do be an angel and save me from this perilous height.”

She rolls her eyes, all the while she ducks her head to hide her own grin.

Angel, he called her. She likes that.

She steps back so he has room to put his feet down but she doesn't stray far, not that she could even if she wanted to.

(She doesn’t want to)

The hand that had been holding the railing now nestles comfortably on the curve of her waist, as he lands on both feet in front of her. When he straightens, she finds their bodies have aligned in—what she is increasingly finding to be—addicting ways. He is pleasantly firm in all the places she finds herself to be doughy, and from all the times they’ve been tangled up in each other in their superhero personas, she is entirely too aware of how he is lean beneath the leather of his suit. He is grounded, stable, which her all too clumsy self finds reassurance in.

His hand moves lazily, sensually, from her waist to the dip of her spine, just shy of her derrière. The wind feels crisp despite the heat bearing down on them from the sun’s unhindered radiance and she feels taught with it, her muscles alternatively coiling and relaxing so that her hand twitches against his biceps. He lets out a soft breath as she (reflexively, she tells herself, it’s a reflex) cossets the leather where she holds him, wishing with all her might she was touching skin instead.

Yes, the shift in them from that fateful night is never more evident than it is now—the air around them filling with a strange yet not unwelcome charge that makes the hairs on her arms stand on end, her belly tingle with an inexplicable excitement and her heart cry out for more of his touch. It feels as if there is a thread around her that binds them and all it would take is a slight pull from him for her to unravel right before him.

There is a look in his eyes, hungry and desperate but oh so fragile too—as if he would just as easily come undone if she so much as tugged at that string. He hums Angel of Music under his breath when he takes a step closer, drawing her to him with the hand low at her back. Hope tinges his dark gaze when she doesn’t protest at his proximity.

Pull, pull, pull.

It makes her wonder if he would unwind if she plucked at that invisible connection, only to twine himself around her. She tilts her head upwards just as he cants his forehead against hers. He closes his eyes, his droning of Angel of Music fading into something unfamiliar yet calming all the same.

Pull, pull, pull, pull, pull—

“Marinette!”

She sucks in a sharp breath and reels back, opening eyes she hadn't realized had shut in the first place until they meet orbs shrouded in rueful, tourmaline hues.

The thread stiffens for another second, just as loathe as the two of them to let go, before finally falling limp and taking all the static electricity of the moment with it.

“I think,” he rasps, voice low and gravelly that he has to clear his throat twice before continuing. It flatters her, especially as she remains feeling weak at the knees. “I think,” he tries again, “that's my cue to leave.”

She knows this. Agrees, even.

If only her hand would cooperate and surrender him.

She curls her digits just a bit tighter, a shudder going through her when she feels his muscles bunching powerfully beneath the suit as he treads impossibly nearer, accommodating her clutch.

You could stay, she wants to utter.

“My dad baked macarons for dessert. It's his specialty…” she says in lieu of such ridiculous pronouncements or a more appropriate goodbye.

(And there goes her mouth too, oh will nothing of hers ever follow her command?)

He grins lopsidedly though his eyes insist on narrowing. “Oh, you don't fight fair,” he returns though she gleans that what he really means is, I wish I didn't have to leave.

Her name pierces the now stale air once more.

“Your mother calls,” he says, rather unnecessarily, a grimace set upon his mouth. That he didn’t want to go as much as she herself wished he wouldn’t gave her the strength to withdraw her hand.

“À bientôt, minou,” she bids in strained articulations, with an even more strained smile, before swiveling on her heel towards her trap door and trying in vain to disperse the bereavement she gains when his gloved hand slips from her back.

She has not taken two steps when she senses the touch of leather on her own hand. He drags her back into his atmosphere and she endeavors to tamper the flutter that arises in her stomach by pasting a faux frown upon her lips.

“Yes?”

His answer falls from his mouth, though not in words. He raises their clasped hands to his chin so that his every measured inhales, his slow exhales, bathe her skin. She expects a kiss upon her fingers, as he is so fond of them whether she is Ladybug or Marinette. And though he does this indeed, she is jolted when he retreats only to wrap warm lips around another knuckle, and the next, and the next, till the entirety of her is ablaze and his kisses seem scored into the very marrow of her bones.

“Till we meet again.”

With the sun sinking low in the horizon behind him, Chat Noir’s face is a study in shadows. But if his visage was the night sky then those eyes, oh always his eyes… they were the glistening diamond stars of the eventide.

“Mon ange.”

And then he is gone, taking all the oxygen with him.

She almost sinks to her knees, having not apprehended how much she was leaning on him till he had disappeared. She braces herself against her metal balustrade to catch her breath, the hand he had marked clutched close to her chest as it continues to buzz with the feel of him.

From her purse erupts a giggle, then Tikki is floating serenely in front of her.

“What was that about?”

Marinette huffs, albeit still in a bit of a daze.

“I hardly know anymore, Tikki.”

The Kwami, never missing a thing, narrows her gaze pointedly onto her hands—the same one still cradled delicately close to her chest while the other fans her overheated face. At her observation, she stills.

“Are you okay?” Tikki inquires, not bothering to hide the teasing glimmer to her tone.

Marinette bites her lip before she rolls her eyes.

“Shut up.”

Tikki's laugh is so hard Marinette is certain it echoes all the way up into the galaxy.

Her mother summons her for dinner one final time and with seemingly Herculean fortitude, she follows. But ensconced as she is within the comforts of her own home—her parents laughing jovially before her, her belly full with a hot and delicious meal prepared lovingly by her father—try as she might she cannot escape Chat Noir. How every time he looked at her his gaze crept along her skin like a living touch, how his actual touch felt branded onto her soul, the manner with which he kissed her or held her—as if she was invaluable treasure—and the effect with which he breathed her name, so softly but with so much gravity, like her name was both too precious to be uttered in anything but humble inflections yet it held so much power, too, because he believed her to be strong and fierce that to say her name any other way would be a fault (and it was only her name! Who knew one could divulge so much meaning onto a name? Of course, only Chat Noir could)—it all drove her wild with wanting.

Though she refuses to answer Tikki's question aloud, it is how she knows—without a shadow of a doubt—that no, she is not okay. So long as he is around her, stealing her breath and making her go weak in the knees, she would never be the same again.

Strangely enough, she is just fine with that.

And even stranger though, is Adrien.

He is different around her, a change she traces all the way back to Con Rubato as well. He is more engaging with her, more conscientious. He would stand when she entered a room then sit only once she had, like a modern day Mr. Darcy. He takes her words in with an air of devout seriousness, as if everything she says has the power to change the world, even if she were just rattling off the afternoon specials in her parents’ bakery. Not three years ago, she would have squealed then died at his attentions. But now it merely confuses her. It is as if she has entered an alternate dimension where Adrien is the one who scrambles for any excuse to talk to her only to stutter his way through their conversations, whether to borrow a pen or copy her notes or set up study groups that she finds herself declining more and more.

The part of her that is still 14-years old rejoices at every look he sends her way, every genuine praise or bolstering shoulder graze. But Marinette has always been an all or nothing sort of girl. No, as Alya would put it, she is a “Ride or Die, Bitch” which would appall her were it not so true. She doesn't know how to do lukewarm or in-betweens, and so the Marinette of now would merely receive such affections with a befuddled slant of her head and a small, appreciative smile. That being said, her head is entirely too filled with thoughts of an overgrown, leather-clad, ridiculous yet charming cat. She should be embarrassed, or she would have been, if said cat was not showing up on her rooftop on an almost nightly basis under the guise of her house being on his “patrol route” when they both recognize it for the lie it is, a rose in his hand and a Phantom of the Opera tune purring low in his throat. Though, more often than not these days, each time he is around her he hums that same indistinct harmony—one he resolutely refuses to name with such stubbornness that she doesn't know whether to hate it for the vagueness or love it for its soothing quality.

(Who is she kidding? It's the latter. Definitely the latter)

Still, it is refreshing, for once, to not be part of a story wherein her love is one-sided. Because though they skirt around the topic, both grown yet still too awkward and shy to broach their feelings, it is there. She feels it, that heady tension… that ever-present pull in her navel that magnetizes her to him. It conquers her so keenly it is nearly impossible now to concentrate when they don their superhero personas; when every part of her is abuzz with his nearness—always close enough to touch but never quite able to bridge that gap. Never the right time, never brave enough.

But she knows he feels it too, even if he does give her funny looks when she's Ladybug and she's a little too late to throw her yo-yo or too slow to move despite the tapering of his flirtations because she's too busy being distracted by his, um, assets (she has become that girl now, bon dieu), and that's all that matters.

At least… at least, for now.

Because it's unthinkable to be anything but deliriously content during periods like this, where he arrives onto her rooftop and settles onto the chaise—right across from her—as if there's nowhere he'd rather be, as if he belongs there. Him and the smell of clean boy sweat and leather and that mysterious melody spilling from his lips like chimes hung out on a beachfront porch, light but resonant too. It ripples down to her sinew, till she is teeming with quiet satisfaction and unexpected fondness for the song.

“What is that?”

“What is what?” he replies coyly, though he knows that she knows that he knows he is perfectly cognizant of exactly what it is she's asking for.

“Dumb is not a good look on you, Chat Noir,” she grumbles.

“Everything's a good look on me, Marinette.”

She blinks, deliberately. He, too, is stunned into silence—his mouth intermittently falling agape and clicking shut, as if wanting to take the words back for the unintentional self-degradation but perceiving the futility of it. Wisely, he swallows the protest that no doubt wants to extricate itself from his mouth, clearing his throat instead before continuing as if he never said the quip at all.

She wants to laugh but recognizes the fragility of the moment, and allows him this one free pass.

“Right,” he says, and she picks up where they left off.

“You were about to tell me what it is you're always singing underneath your breath?”

He smiles archly before tutting. “Not so fast.” He wags a finger right between her eyes.

“Such impatience.”

She swats his hand away.

“Hard not to be, when I don't know exactly what it is I'm impatient for?”

He sighs, as if the confession requires a gargantuan effort on his part.

“If you really want to know,” he straightens from the sprawl he has settled himself upon his arrival, repositioning his arms which had been behind his head so that they are folded between his criss-crossed legs. She mirrors his stance, figuring that she ought to put some seriousness into her mien for all the pomp and circumstance he is displaying for her.

“It's a song I'm composing. On the piano.”

She gasps.

“That's wonderful! What's it called?”

His eyes widen, as if it hadn't occurred to him to give it a name.

“You know… I'm not quite sure, yet.” He stares at her for a beat, and his voice is rough when he declares, “I do have an idea, though.”

For reasons unbeknownst to her, she blushes. To hide this, she stands then, her hand outstretched towards him. His brows are furrowed but he accepts it all the same and follows when she pulls him to his feet.

“Well?”

This time, his dumbfoundedness is sincere.

“Well, what?”

“Let's go!”

“Go where?”

She rolls her eyes heavenward and fixes him with a look of utmost disappointment.

“What?” he exclaims again, arms crossing defensively across his chest before muttering, “Sometimes, I don't understand you.”

“Believe me,” she retorts, haughtily. “I know. ”

But excitement colors her countenance once more, till she is bouncing on the tips of her toes.

“I don't have a piano but there's one in the school! Take me there so you can play me the rest of the song. I've only heard bits and pieces and, mon dieu, I've never had a friend who could compose before. I know an actual composer! Can you believe it?”

She'd been talking a mile a minute and would have gone on, but she really does want to hear his original and with the school closed for the day, it means they would have to sneak in (not that it would be their first time). She couldn't exactly transform in front of him so she would need him to break the both of them in. Except he hasn't moved from his place in front of her. There is only that enigmatic smile and his bright eyes, gazing upon her like she is made of moonshine and starlight.

The ardor of his stare has her feeling all the blood in her body has rushed to her cheeks.

“What?” she retorts. “Is there something on my face?”

“Besides your beauty?”

She groans. He is such a cheeseball but damn if it doesn't get her. It gets her so bad that her blood redoubles its efforts of turning her face into a permanent tomato.

He laughs at her obvious modesty, amusement making him bold when he frames her hips between careful claws and gathers her in his arms.

“It's not entirely finished, you know.”

She pouts. “Oh.”

He chuckles again, thumb tracing the plump camber of her bottom lip before resting it on her chin.

“But when it is, I promise you mon ange,” (cue her breath hitch. Blushing intensifies) “you will be the first to know.”

He lets go of her chin so his hand can join the vine the rest of his limbs have made around her waist. And because he is a good head taller than her now, she steeples her fingers on his chest so she can rest her chin upon it as she murmurs, “Deal.”

“Deal,” he parrots.

Then, he adds, “Besides,” he shrugs. “I don't think you're ready to hear it.”

She scoffs. “What is that supposed to mean!”

Rather than answer her, he giggles a final time then nuzzles his cheek atop her hair. She grunts but obliges him by tangling herself around him as well, partly because it's not as if she can force him to (nor does she want to!) speak. But mostly, she likes this—the unconscious ease with which they fall into each other's arms, the subliminal fashion that compels them to gravitate towards each other's orbits and just stay there, like it was always where they were meant to be.

She likes him.

She wants to smack herself when the thought hits her. She likes him, like, really likes him! She might go so far as to say she…

Well, ironies upon ironies that after years of rejection, she now finds herself in the unique placement of desiring to return his affections, granted under a different skin.

And as if somehow linked to her thoughts, he shatters the silence (and her world) when he finally answers her.

“It means,” he starts in a solemn and susurrous murmur, “that I like you, Marinette.”

Her heart beating a tango and a salsa in her throat that her voice comes out hoarse, she replies, “I like you too, Chat Noir.” And because she is an idiot and a fool and afraid, she remarks, “As a friend.”

For a brief moment, he tenses beneath her hands. Then, with a steady sigh, he loosens, his arms travelling from her waist to grasp her biceps.

“And that is exactly what I mean when I say you're not ready.”

There's something broken there, when he says the words and she meets his eyes. It is with growing horror that she realizes she is the one who put it there—that ache and the hurt and the unabashed longing and she wants to eat up her words or not have said anything at all, just held him, tighter and tighter instead, till she was losing herself in him. She wants to take the last 30 seconds back, just anything, anything to erase the sadness that paints his face in the kind of darkness that swallows you rather than emphasize the points of you that are filled with light.

“Chat,” she cries, but he is all ready turning away from her.

And she lets him, because she knows. She knows that even with her powers, even with all the knowledge she claims of the Miraculous and the magic of this world, she cannot turn back time.

“It's getting late.”

“Wait—” she tries a final time, pleading with an invisible force, yanking with all her might at their unspoken tie, to get him to stay.

Pull, pull, pull, pull, pull, pull, pull!

But all the warmth and color is leached from her universe—

He is gone.

Later, much, much later, after begging off dinner from her parents under the pretense of fatigue, when the house is quiet and the bustling sounds of the Parisian streets fade as slumber wraps its lethargic arms around the city, Tikki comes to her and asks, “Marinette…” in that sweet, tinkling tone of hers, so free of judgment and eyes wide with concern, “why did you say that?”

She cannot help but begin to cry.

“I—I don't know.”

How could it have gone so wrong, so quickly?

Tikki touches a paw to her cheek, halting one of the tracks of her tears.

“Try, dear heart.”

Suddenly angry, she turns from her Kwami in such brusque movements that Tikki is forced to float away from her to avoid being crushed. A pang of guilt goes through her. It isn't fair to lash out at Tikki when truly, she's mad at herself. But she holds on to her anger because it grounds her and it feels so much better than the cloud of despair that looms over her, threatening to engulf her and whisk her away to where she feels empty.

“What is the point, Tikki?” she bellows, a bundle of limbs and blankets as she moves from her chaise to stare out her round window.

Waiting, always waiting—for a shadow, a flash of flaxen locks or a pair of sparkling emerald orbs

“It's done. A week has gone and he hasn't visited, not once. There's no point going over what could have been. It's better to move on.” She scoffs. “What am I even saying? There's nothing to move on from, we hardly started. ”

“I wouldn't call a three-year partnership ‘nothing', Marinette,” Tikki reminds her gently.

“It's done,” she snaps again with watery convictions, refusing to hear her Kwami out. But her voice still breaks when she emphasizes, “We're done.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Does it matter what I want? It's over.”

“But don't you see? It doesn't have to be!”

She whirls towards her and snarls, “You're such a hypocrite, you know that?”

Tikki doesn't deign her with an equal accusation or denial. She does not speak at all. She just stares at her with that unwavering comfort and understanding. The quiet brims Marinette with blind justification and the fortitude to hurl more vitriol, because if she doesn't fill the silence with words then she would surely fill it with sobs and she is so tired of crying over nothing.

So tired.

“First you tell me we have to hide our identities from everyone, even each other, and now you want me to run into his arms, shouting to all and sundry who I am. Make up your goddamn mind Tikki!”

“I won’t deny that. Yes, it was necessary in the beginning,” Marinette grins, something sharp and sarcastic and devoid of all humor. Though she confesses, the ease with which Tikki accepts blame takes away most of the exhilaration of her supposed victory.

“But you have to remember, Marinette, I have been here before. I have seen countless Ladybugs and Chat Noir incarnates for more than a thousand years. While we and the Guardians always hope for the best, a peaceful partnership, that is not always the outcome.”

It is odd, she thinks. She has always known Tikki was as old as time itself. But when her Kwami moves and speaks and thinks and views the world with such childlike wonder, it is simply too easy to forget. Now though, it becomes difficult to deny, not when the adumbrations that obscure her expression add years to her countenance so that she lists to the side with the weight of her age, her all too palpable grief.

“For every harmonious union there has been an equal and terrible clash. Even with all this power, we are not perfect. Humans are such…” a struggle crosses her eyes then, “well. I suppose that's the beauty of your species, isn't it? That even with so many things binding you together, each one of you is still made so differently, so inimitable, that your actions can never be one hundred percent predicted. It's wonderful,” she smiles briefly, before her sadness ultimately wins out. “But it also makes our jobs difficult, and not all Ladybugs and Chat Noirs are what we desire them to be. Every contretemps has led to any human-mitigated disaster you know—famine, plague, conflict, war. ”

Tikki's eyes transform to a haunted, bottomless well that is awash with misfortunes and loss that Marinette will never fathom in her lifetime. It depletes the anger from her sinews till only the despondency she had been fighting unremittingly to avoid, is all that endures.

“Tikki,” she snivels, sinking to her knees in absolution. “Tikki, I'm sorry. I didn't—I didn't know— ”

“It's alright, Marinette,” the Kwami coos, and it is with slack-jawed awe that Marinette regards Tikki's reformation from ancient, weary god to artless and optimistic Tikki, the Tikki she is more accustomed to. “You couldn’t have known.”

She drifts back to her cheek, pecking serenely at the curve before nestling there. “But what's not alright is this evident denial of your feelings.”

Marinette groans, bringing a hand to her face to swipe futilely at her tears.

“What are you afraid of? Don't you see how lucky you are, that Chat Noir has fallen in love with all sides of you?”

At the word love, her heart rattles beneath her ribcage.

“Is he though?”

“Is he what?”

“In love with me?”

Marinette detects a hint of mirth when Tikki replies with, “would that be a problem if he was?”

“Could I really be that lucky? For him to fall in love with me, twice over?”

Marinette yelps just then, when Tikki bites at her skin.

“Ow!”

“Only you could find some fault in a situation that would benefit both parties.”

Nursing her cheek, Marinette grumbles, “I just think it's too easy, is all. If something's too good to be true, it usually is.”

Tikki stares at her in horror. “Look at you, Marinette! Exactly what part of this has been ‘easy'? No,” she shakes her head. “You're afraid, and it's about high time you admit it to yourself!”

“Alright!” she bursts. “Maybe I am scared! But can you blame me? If we're to start a relationship, I want there to be no more lies. I want us to be together, like Alya and Nino are together or like my parents, properly together—not sneaking out, always waiting for the sun to set. That means no more lies, no more hiding, no more masks. It means, revealing our identities.”

Tikki's brows furrow in confusion.

“Well, we both know Chat Noir has no objections to that. And I've all ready said that I'm fine with that, too.”

“But I'm not!”

And there it is.

“Hawkmoth is still out there. If we know each other's identities and one of us gets Akumatized,” she shudders—real, quaking, anxious tremors rocking her body at just the idea, “I couldn't bear the thought of hurting him, if it were me. And if it were him, Tikki, I don't think I would be strong enough to fight him. No, I know I couldn't fight him. And I can't let Paris suffer because of my emotions… because of my weakness.”

It is a long time before either of them speak. And when the pregnant pause is broken, it is Tikki who offers a final piece of advice.

“You are worrying about something that hasn't even happened yet.”

It is a reproach, but Tikki manages to deliver it with such gentle sibilance, it merely makes Marinette weep harder despite her want to protest.

“Say you don't confess or reveal your identities to each other, or he confesses before you and you reject him, again, ” (she winces) “because of your fear. Who's to say that won't be the act that tips him over the edge to being Akumatized? Don't you see, Marinette? Either way, confess or not, the misery would be inevitable.”

“There must be some way to stop it? To control it?” she wails, desperately.

Tikki sighs, lovingly ruffling her hair.

“That's the thing about life, isn't it? There can be no peace without chaos, no joy without anger… no love without suffering—for how can we know happiness, true happiness, if we don't first know what it feels to be dispossessed?

“When we open our hearts, Marinette, we expose it to everything. Yes there will be pain, but there will be such pleasure, too. Such merriment behind the agony, such sweetness alongside the sourness of humanity. Wouldn't you rather have someone experiencing it with you, always by your side, than carry it all on your own?”

Softer, Tikki adds, “And wouldn't you rather that someone be Chat Noir?”

Marinette remains silent for a couple more heartbeats, before she breathes, “Yes.”

Tikki smiles.

“It's okay to be afraid, Marinette,” she affirms. “Just don't let it hold you back. In fact, if you're going to be afraid,” she pats her head and presses on even as she darts to her bed.

“At least let him hold your hand. Then you can conquer your fears, together. ”

Marinette thinks that's the end of this emotionally draining conversation when Tikki dispenses a final valuation.

“And if I could just counter one more of your arguments?”

She cocks her head in acquiescence because why not? She has nothing to lose.

“You don't reach my age and not learn a thing or two about humankind, particularly when it comes to love. There is a great deal of things, too great a deal of stupid things even, that one does for love.” At this, she shoots Marinette a playfully insinuating look, having been witness to all her teenage antics over Adrien. She blushes, scarcely stifling an embarrassed squeak.

“But they are great. From sweeping, romantic gestures to a simple birthday card from one child to a parent—each act of love possesses their own power, from the ability to launch a thousand ships to war or the persistence to find one's way home when lost or merely putting a smile on a friend's face. I suppose what I'm trying to convey is, love isn't a weakness. It never has been. Love has always been magic. Dare I say, it's more than that, even.”

Tikki smiles.

“It's strength. ”

She mulls over her Kwami's words for two more days which turns to a week before she gathers any semblance of a backbone. But then an Akuma attacks and there he is.

How has she never noticed how handsome he is? How dashing and strong and courageous?

The Akuma, Bridezilla, as she aptly names herself, was jilted from the aisle (“thanks for the encouragement, Universe,” she mutters upon finding out). Though her real beef is with men in general, and her runner of a fiancé specifically, she aims her weapon—a bouquet that shoots wedding rings that cut off the victim's movements—at Ladybug, as they've reached the portion of the battle where the Akuma gets desperate for their Miraculous.

In her distraction, having not seen Chat Noir for so long and now getting a sensory overload of him, his touch and his voice and his scent, she hadn't seen Bridezilla till she was upon her. Lucky for her (and this she muses in barbed resonance), Chat Noir jumped to the line of fire so that he bore the brunt of the attack, which meant that he fell in a heap on the floor. He was bound in rings that tightened further the more he moved, ensuring he couldn't use his Cataclysm to free himself.

“Chat!” she bawls, dropping to her knees in front of him and trying in vain to free him. She gasps when an inadvertent squeeze from her efforts causes his leg to twitch and consequently, the metal to contract.

“Looks like she really wants to tie the knot with me, eh?”

She laughs, even as tears spring to her eyes.

“Don't tell me you're getting cold feet now.”

Floating above them, Bridezilla cackles.

“With her?" his frown deepens. "I can see why anyone would run.”

“Give up your Miraculous!” she snarls, having heard the tail end of their conversation.

“Mon dieu, shut up!”

Chat Noir spews a shocked chortle while Bridezilla flusters at the unexpected burst of her temper. Ladybug is known for her grace under pressure, after all, this is hardly becoming. But with Chat's oxygen depleting with every minute movement, her patience runs thin and her cool begins to simmer.

“I've just about had it with these putain de Akumas!”

Chat's eyes widen and she should be embarrassed but she is literally beyond caring at this point. She calls on her Lucky Charm in a most uncharming way that her ladybugs don't even bother to show up, the charm just lands in her hands. A stiletto. Personally, she would have poked the Akuma's eye and called it a day, but her Spots Vision urge her to use Chat's baton and a fire hydrant, from which she vaults herself and throws the heel like a boomerang, knocking it from the ex-bride's hands.

Ladybug extends her yo-yo to a lamp post and swings just in time to catch the Akuma victim before she falls hard on the ground. She lands them on her feet before sprinting for the bouquet, which she breaks to purify the butterfly, all in quick succession. Grabbing the shoe, she throws it in the air and cries out, almost hysterically when she sees Chat turning an alarming shade of white that is made even more deathly prominent against the blackness of his suit, “Miraculous Ladybug!”

The moment her ladybugs clear Chat to his feet, she bypasses his outstretched fist and launches herself at him at such top speed, they fall back to the ground.

“I'm sorry!” she wails even as she doesn't let up.

“Err—Ladybug? I kinda just got free from one bind but I'm pretty sure you're cutting off my oxygen this time.”

She squeals, apologies spilling from her lips as she springs from him. She propels herself to her feet, holding a hand up to him. She has to refrain from crumpling her face when she discovers they had been in a similar position not two weeks ago, her helping him to his feet so that he might take her to the music room in their school and play her his composition.

(A composition which she has rewound what little of it she knows in a merciless loop in her head in his absence, just to feel close to him again)

“So, you're good? Nothing hurts?”

He bevels his head quizzically. “Your ladybugs took care of it, like they always do.” He gives her a searching look. “Are you? Okay, that is?”

“Yeah,” she gulps.

This is it, she thinks. This is my chance.

“Actually—” she starts lowly just as he asks, “Are we near the Dupain-Cheng Bakery?”

She blinks her surprise.

“Um… yes. Why?”

He startles, having been focused on the direction of her home, as if he had forgotten she was there despite asking her a question. As if he were all ready somewhere else.

“N-nothing. Listen, I gotta go. Unless there's something else you need me to do?”

Upon her transformation, Bridezilla's bridesmaids had taken care of her, so there truly was no need to linger. Seeing this, he doesn't wait for her instruction. He nods his goodbye and leaps off in the direction of her street.

Her Miraculous trills, and Marinette races to the back door of her building just as Tikki releases her glamour. Her footsteps thunder up the stairs, her clumsiness nowhere to be seen for once, as she zooms past her parents and straight to her room in record time.

“Marinette?” Tikki inquires bewilderingly.

“He's here, Tikki,” she whispers in breathless timbres. “He left me, Ladybug me, just as I was about to confess because he's coming here. To me, Marinette me!”

She can hardly hear Tikki's excited chirps over the roaring of her blood in her ears. He's come back. He's come back to her!

“Chat!” she shrills, as she opens her trapdoor.

But when she pops her head to the roof, he is not there.

She waits, thinking she might have arrived before him. She waits for the sun to set. She waits, even as the cold seeps to her bones with a piercing quiver. Still, he does not come.

No, he has not come back after all.

“Did you and Adrien have a fight?”

Only nibbling on her sandwich lunch and half paying attention to her surroundings, she absentmindedly replies to Alya, “What?”

“You—Adrien—fight?”

The sound of Adrien's name stirs something in her, like wading through really thick mud before reaching the safety of the bank.

“Adrien and I?” she frowns. “I've hardly spoken to him these past few weeks.”

“Yeah?” Alya mirrors her downtrodden mouth. “Maybe that's the problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“Something's been up with the kid, but you know how Adrien is. You ask him if something's wrong, he'll just deny it with his stupid, phony smile. Although, Nino and I have caught him off guard a couple of times. It obviously has something to do with you though, because we ask him how he is and he'll say he's fine, it's just stuff with his dad or fencing or Chinese, blah blah blah. But,” she fixes Marinette with a suspicious glare over the rim of her glasses, “he thinks we don't see, but he gets this look in his eyes after, it's like, really sad—as if he's lost something? Then he stares at you.”

“Me?” she squawks.

“You really haven't noticed?” she returns, distrustful of her plain obliviousness.

“N-no,” she stutters.

“Hey,” Alya's attention becomes a blade, right through to her soul. It makes her sit up taller. “I know something's up with you, too, girl.”

“What?” she says, dragging the vowel out. “No way,” she denies, feebly. Alya does not buy it, it is written on her face, clear as day, just how much she doesn't believe her.

“Okay… then explain how you and Adrien just happen to get into this weird funk right around the same time. That's why I thought you might have had a row or something.”

Marinette shakes her head. Alya sighs.

“Be that as it may, Nino and I aren't making any headway. So,” she nudges her shoulder. “We were hoping you could talk to him. Now that you can speak more than two words to the guy without stammering up a storm,” she pouts at the reminder (will no one ever let her live that down?) “Who knows? He might actually open up to you.”

It is all too clear that her forlornness at, what she deems as, losing her chance with Chat Noir has made her selfish and blind to her other friend's apparent distress. She colors with contrition. So though she is hardly an authority in dealing with emotions healthily, she stows away her lunch and scrambles to her feet in a show of obedience. But a quick perusal of the courtyard shows no sign of Adrien, not even with Nino, who is conversing with Kim and Max.

“Where is he?”

“Nino says Adrien is practically glued to a piano, nowadays. You might wanna try the music room?”

Merde, she wants to shout. Of course, he is in the music room.

Her feet feels leaden but she forges on, walking an all too familiar path, all the while chanting, I am a good friend, I am a good friend, I am a good friend, in her head to bolster herself. She's operating under the adventitiousness that if she thinks it enough, she will become it. Power of attraction and all.

Besides, she does want to be a good friend, so there is that.

(But did it have to be the music room, bon sang! )

When she reaches the door of the place, she can hear All I Ask of You wafting through the wood. It steals her breath and seizes her limbs so that it takes her a better part of a minute to regain control of her faculties.

She will not cry. She will not be one of those girls who associates songs with people, thereby removing the joy from listening to said songs if the memories are not… optimal, when they hear it.

(Oh god, she has become that girl now, too)

He doesn't turn his head to her when she enters, doesn't acknowledge her when she sits beside him on the bench, doesn't even miss a beat when she joins him and plays the melody to his lower register.

When the final note is played to fruition, they sit there in silence—neither willing to break it, lost as they are in events brought on by the song.

Finally, when the quiet becomes too stifling, Marinette opens her mouth to say something reassuring except the connection between her brain and aforementioned body part seems to have fried somewhere along the way.

“He must have come to you, in your dreams.”

He startles, the movement oddly familiar, though she dispels the recognition that it pothers within her.

“Who?”

“You know,” she wiggles her eyebrows then abruptly stops. She wants to slap a hand to her forehead. How dare they! How dare her eyebrows betray her!

(Is she channeling Chat Noir now? Seriously? Is that where she is? Putain)

Adrien shakes his head, a perfect picture of puzzlement.

Shut up, Marinette, she implores herself. Don't say it.

But nope, her wires are still cut, as her lips form, no—it levels up and sings the words without her consent.

“The Phantom of the Opera!”

She cringes the moment she stops then pivots so that her back is to the keys of the piano, and Adrien is away from her line of sight. She is going to barf. She can string complete sentences around the guy now sure, but apparently she has traded the spluttering for... she shudders, singing. She crosses her arms, as if it could stop her from embarrassing herself further. She almost wishes for the stutter back.

What even is my life right now?

She expects him to leave, but Adrien has always been a kind soul. He chuckles, albeit a subdued sound, as if he's forgotten how, his sadness (so obvious, now that she is here and seeing, truly seeing, him) chasing any associations he might have had with happiness. When was the last time she had even seen him smile?

Too long, she concludes.

“Well, he is there,” he taps his temple then croons, in an exaggerated baritone, “inside my mind…”

It is her turn to be shocked and for a beat, they stare at each other, disbelief adorning the air between them at what they had each done.

And then, they are laughing.

They are laughing and it is as loud and as forthcoming and as fun as it had been that day in the rain, when he offered her an umbrella. For a moment, she allows herself to fall back into that girl. She dusts her old feelings off from the shelf she had placed them in and she allows them to come rushing back. She remembers then, why it is Adrien who occupied her thoughts for so long. She can see how easy it would be, too easy, to fall in love with him again.

But his blond hair and his green eyes invoke the wrong memories. She feels her heart whinge with longing for another man and she just can't. It wouldn't be fair to compare Adrien, to keep comparing anyone, to a shadow.

Drowning as she is in her thoughts, she doesn't notice Adrien has all ready turned away, fingers back to the piano as he plays Music of the Night, which then fades to Think of Me, till eventually he settles onto Angel of Music.

Mon ange.

She can hear Chat Noir’s voice forming the words, almost as if he were here in the room and she is taken back to that first night he played for her so that he is sitting beside her—his beautiful digits deftly serenading her, her head on his shoulder, their breathing syncopated.

She isn't aware she is crying till warm fingers touch the skin of her cheek.

Adrien has stopped playing.

“I didn't mean to make you cry.”

She didn't think it possible, but he looked even more upset than when she first entered.

So much for being a good friend.

“Ignore me,” she laughs awkwardly, his hand falling as she reaches into her bag, meeting Tikki's big, round eyes when she surreptitiously gives her a tissue. “Oh, I'm such a mess. I'm so sorry, Adrien. Ugh,” she sighs, wiping at her glistening cheeks. “This is not how this was supposed to go.”

“And how was this supposed to go?”

“Truthfully? I don't know. Alya and Nino were worried about you and honestly, I can see why. I came in here to try to cheer you up, which is stupid, I know now. I can hardly console myself. What can I possibly do for you?”

At that, she meets his eyes and all of a sudden, she understands what Alya means. There is something soft in his green gaze when he looks at her and something fond when he directs his endearingly crooked smile at her. It brightens his face and again, there is something so distinct about the twinkle in his orbs that it arrests her, stops the babble of her mouth and calms the restlessness of her wrung heart. A thought brews in her mind then, something big and something reckless and something dangerous, to be sure.

But the way her soul calls out to him, the thread of recognition in her belly going taut after so long without its other half, the look of him, his knowledge of Phantom of the Opera. It had taken her so long but now that it is here, it is like waking from a really deep sleep or rising from the pull of a frigid ocean tide—it is too difficult to ignore.

If she was right, bon dieu, if she was right...

“What troubles you, Marinette?”

Could it be this easy? she wonders, for the umpteenth time. If something's too good to be true, it usually is.

It's okay to be afraid, Tikki's sage voice floods her head then, overriding her doubts and lending her strength. Love is magic. Love is strength.

“What else?”

“I wonder if it might be the same thing that ails me.”

She gasps mockingly, “A boy?”

Marinette internally rejoices at the laugh she manages to wrangle from him. God, even his laugh!

Then, at the same time they utter, “Love?”

He nods, as if satisfied with their synchronization. She can hardly contain her beam. But the solemnity returns to his countenance and he asks her, “Are you in love, then?”

She nods, emphatically. “To the best guy I know. Next to you, of course.”

He looks so taken aback, she almost laughs. “Me?”

“Don't pretend you didn't know!” she points an accusing finger at him.

“Know? Know what? ”

“Oh my god,” it sinks in and she raises an incredulous brow. “You really didn't know?”

He throws his hands up in the air in frustration. “What are you talking about?”

“Adrien,” she starts slowly, as if he were a skittish animal she didn't want to scare into bolting from her. “Up until two years ago, I was madly in love with you.”

He blinks.

“What—what— ”

“I'm not anymore, obviously,” she continues flippantly, biting her lip to hide her amused grin. He is turning a peculiar shade of red, the hues of which had only ever been displayed by her before.

“I'm in love with this guy, but,” she sobers when she returns to the heart of the matter. “I don't know,” she sighs, jerking frustratedly at one end of her right pigtail. “I think I blew it.”

For a while, he doesn't answer. The silence becomes so oppressively awkward, she contemplates leaving when he, at long last, replies.

“What makes you say that?”

It is a quiet thing, the way he phrases the question. But it is made all the more compelling for its lambency, when there is an overabundance of hope lining every letter and syllable. She senses her own hope rocketing straight to the heavens.

“He told me his feelings, and instead of reciprocating I,” she gulps, the shame of her actions threatening to pull her down to her demons as she recalls that dreadful day. “I turned him away.”

He seems lost in his thoughts too, but rises just enough to mumble, “Why?”

She closes her eyes.

This is it, she psyches herself again. This is really it.

“Because I was afraid. I had loved you for so long, you see, that I had grown so comfortable with the thought that whatever love I gave could never be returned. But then he did, god, he did and suddenly I was afraid that I would mess things up so badly and then eventually, I just wouldn't be enough. There were… other factors, I was afraid of,” she glosses over this, just in case she is wrong. But if she is right, then it seemed prudent he be aware of it, too. “But it's not an excuse. The point is, I'm tired of being afraid, you know?”

She turns back so that she is facing the keys and then she is looking him in the eye, dauntless and ready.

“I'm tired of being afraid,” she reiterates, before altogether deflating. “I want to tell him, really, I do. But how?

“How do I tell someone that he is the first person I think about the moment I wake for the day and the one who fills my dreams at night? How do I tell him that his arms around me bring me the sort of warmth no blanket, jacket or heater could ever replicate? That for me the sun rises and sets in his eyes? That if I were a moon then he was the planet with which I choose to gravitate around? That my whole world is centered around him? That his soul seems bound to mine? His name scrawled across my heart because it belongs to him?

“How do you tell someone you love them? ”

The words had been building for so long, she gasps the moment they are out, like she had been holding her breath for just as long as she had been holding them in.

When she sneaks a glance at Adrien, there is an air of serenity about him that she hopes, hopes, hopes, is born from the baring of her mind, heart and soul. She feels naked, but invigorated too, a certain potency in the vulnerability—especially when he looks at her like this, with commensurate admiration, her words playing in his mind's eye to echo to his very actions.

“I imagine it goes something like this.”

His fingers poise gracefully over the keys, and then they are flying, singing, painting— a captivating scenery of a boy cloaked in shadows and a girl with midnight hair, the moonlight as their surface and the open air their dome and how they find sanctuary in each other. It pierces their heady atmosphere, that beautiful and mysterious tune that had kept her going on the days when loneliness comminated to cripple her.

—that same melody Chat Noir would hum to her, in the exposure of her rooftop and the moonshine pooling at their feet.

It starts soft, tinkling... excited, before climaxing to something sorrowful and dejected. But then, the tone shifts, and it is enchanting, bringing with it hope and passion and the happy chimes of church bells and an infant's laughter and above all else… love.

The last note fades from the room though it reverberates all throughout her body, leaving a pleasant tingle in its wake. She is crying again but she doesn't bother to hide it, doesn't bother to reach for a tissue. Not when he is there, cradling her cheeks like she is a most cherished gem, and catching her tears before they can journey the length of her face.

“Mon Ange,” he whispers, breath lingering like a zephyr on her lips as he answers a question asked long ago. “It's called Mon Ange. ”

Only one person in the entire world would know to call her that.

But she dare not let herself believe, not until she too is cupping his face, her fingers splitting into diamonds around the sides of his eyes in a facsimile of a mask.

Those eyes, oh always his eyes…

(It should have been her first clue)

She gasps.

(She should have known better)

“Chat… you… you— ”

His hands retreat from her face only to deluge her own, hold her to him.

“Yes,” he sighs. “Yes, it's me.”

(She really, really should have known)

He rests his forehead on hers, and then she is laughing as she is crying, gazing at him in uninhibited astonishment.

“It's you,” she breathes, “it's always been you.”

His smile stretches the breadth of his face, it's any wonder it doesn't hurt his cheeks or fly right off his visage. It is then she remembers, with another laugh.

“I suppose…” he pouts when she withdraws but she, too, cannot contain her smiles when she opens her bag and reveals, “now is as good a time as any to tell you.”

Tikki floats placidly up to Adrien's blatantly jarred exterior and touches his nose in greeting.

“Hello, Adrien. I'm Tikki,” she giggles, tipping his jaw up with a paw before resuming her introductions. “It's nice to finally meet you.”

But before he can formulate a reply, something or rather, someone, is shouting, “Sugarcube!” and whizzing between them to collide right into her Kwami.

Plagg.

Tikki squeals, waving apologetically as Plagg whisks her away to the vents without so much as a by your leave.

Adrien has yet to say anything, and she grows worried at his lack of response.

“Adrien?” she waves a hand across his face. He captures it and holds on, tight. And she has a sneaking suspicion he thinks what he says next might be unpleasant to her and his grip is so she won't float away in the aftermath.

(She harrumphs. This is three years in the making, nothing could possibly make her leave now)

“So close,” are his first words.

“Okay…?”

“So close, I could have figured it out and we might have been together sooner!”

His eyes are dilated with regret, bordering on hysteria.

“The Valentine's day card, the one shaped in a heart with a poem written inside.”

She blushes. “Oh yeah,” she coughs to hide her embarrassment. “That.”

“It wasn't signed but I knew, I knew it was from Ladybug because it directly answered my poem for her—word per word. Then you! You left me a note with that assignment and I thought your handwriting looked a lot like the one of the poem's but I brushed it off because I could hardly believe it. I couldn't possibly be that lucky? I'm so used to disappointment, otherwise, it just became easier to accept that I couldn't deserve you… both of you.”

He trails off.

“And are you?”

“What?”

He seems feverish now at all the little hints she might have left that spoke of her admiration for him. She remembers Papa Garou and feels a little bad.

“Disappointed?”

He hugs her then, his arms around her a habitual balm that feels like coming home.

He feels like home.

“I couldn't be farther, Marinette. I've fallen in love with you, twice now. Once is coincidence but twice?” He hums. “Twice is a pattern.” He runs his nose along the arch of her neck, before rubbing it against the bridge of her own. “One I hope to make again,” he kisses her forehead, “and again,” her eyelid, “and again,” one cheek, “and again, ” then the other.

Pull, pull, pull.

There is that force again, the one that links them together, in a nature so insistent, she is a slave to its command. She finds herself clambering to his lap and anchoring her hands in his golden tendrils. He receives her weight with nary a blink of an eye, like they have done this countless times before.

Pull, pull, pull.

Like it is right.

“Well then,” she says, her lips hovering exhilaratingly close to his. “What do you suppose happens now?”

With her towering over him, his answer comes in the form of the crane of his head as he gives chase to the succulent curve of her smiling mouth.

But the day has other plans when the alarm rings and an announcement blares from the school speakers.

“AKUMA ALERT, AKUMA ALERT!”

They simultaneously turn their heads to the windows and it is there Adrien walks, carrying her all the while as he surveys whatever damage the Akuma might have all ready caused. It's an inappropriate thought given the circumstances but the way he doesn't even think about letting her go, his muscles flexing beneath his shirt as he hauls her to him with ease—it makes her quite dizzy.

(She's in love, okay? Sue her)

“Duty calls?”

He sighs. “Duty calls.”

She gets down on her feet, her body sliding in delicious thrills along his on the way to the ground. They let go of each other at the same time, calling for their Kwamis, suddenly shy.

“I'm gonna—”

“I'll be—”

He waves to one corner of the room while she gestures to the other.

“Right,” they trill jointly before laughing.

They move to their respectfully claimed parts of the room, Tikki giving her a wink before she calls out her magic words and hearing the tail end of Adrien's too.

When the magic settles, she turns. Seeing Chat Noir standing before her and knowing it is Adrien beneath the mask makes all the air leave her body while also breathing so much energy into her core.

It's real, she says to herself. He's real.

It restores her confidence and she is leaping into his arms for a hug, one that takes no time at all for him to reciprocate so deeply, she is lifted onto the tips of her toes.

Pull.

“I've waited for you my whole life," he sighs. "It’s reassuring somehow, to know. You were always with me.” He cups her head. “My lady,” he whispers into the corner of her mouth. “Mon ange.”

“Mon minou,” she murmurs in kind before conceding, “I'm scared.” It's a hard thing to admit but with him, it is as effortless as a heartbeat.

Pull.

He holds out his hand.

“I won't let go if you won't.”

Pull.

She grasps his hand, before twining their fingers, loving the weight of him in her palm like that of a steady promise.

Pull.

“Never.”

Because it is one, she understand now. And like all promises made by lovers, they seal it in the only way they know how.

Pull.

With a kiss.

AN: Hope you had fun! Tell me what you think! :)

Also, come say hi to me!

#miraculous ladybug #ml spoilers #marichat #adrinette #marichat ff #adrinette ff #fluff #angst #with a happy ending #listen to the music of the night series #swishandflickwit ff

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spn-destiel-enthusiast · 7 years ago

Text

Adoption and marriage

So I wrote a ficlet of Dean and Cas adopting toddler Claire. They also finally get married. And they eventually adopt baby Jack. This is nothing but fluff.

I originally planned for it to be short, but kind of got carried away with it.

Word count: 4,265 words.

Will be under the cut. Hope you enjoy.

When Dean and Cas first decided to adopt, they both were a little apprehensive about it.

But the minute they met Claire, the little girl with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes and a killer attitude, they fell in love.

“Cas, she literally has your eyes.” Dean says, fastening Claire into her car seat.

“Yeah, well she has your attitude, Dean.” Cas says placing the diaper bag on the backseat.

Dean glances up and smiles, “Yeah, isn’t it great?” Cas rolls his eyes, “It’s bad enough I have to deal with your attitude, now I have to deal with a mini you.”

Mini me, dean thinks to himself, “I like the sound of that. But Cas, you can’t say she’s not a mini you too. Her eyes are as blue as the oceans, so are yours. And her features, I swear she has your nose.”

Cas shuts the door and makes his way to Dean’s side and glances at their daughter sleeping in her car seat, “Okay, maybe she does kind of, sorta, maybe look like me.” He says with a smile.

Dean covers Claire with a pink blanket, smooths her hair out of her face and softly shuts the car door, he turns and looks at Cas, “She does, and she’s officially ours. I can’t believe it.”

Cas smiles and grabs deans hand, “It’s been a long and bumpy road, but it’s been worth it. She finally gets to grow up in a stable and loving home. I can’t wait for Sam to meet her.”

“Sammy is going to love her.” Dean says softly, a smile blossoming across his face.

“Let’s go home.” Cas says kissing Dean on the tip on his nose.

They get in the car and take their daughter home.

Just as they thought, Sam fell in love with her. Claire and Sam are inseparable.

A few weeks later, Sam is watching Claire while Dean and Cas are on a hunt.

“Uncle Sam.” The toddler calls out to her uncle, holding her arms up.

am picks Claire up and tickles her. Claire squeals and giggles, “Yes, Claire bear?”

“Why aren’t dad and daddy married? Do they not love each other?” She asks softly.

Sam thinks for a second, “Why do you think they don’t love each other?”

Claire tilts her head, “I dunno. But when two people love each other, don’t they usually get married?” She asks.

For Claire being three years old, she’s definitely smart for her age, “Well, yeah. But sometimes it’s complicated.” He tells her.

“Oh, okay.” She says looking disappointed.

“You know what? Let’s go get some ice cream.” He says with a smile.

Claire perks up at the words ice cream, “ICE CREAM!” She squeals.

Sam carries her to the car and they go and get ice cream.

A couple weeks after that, Claire doesn’t give up on the whole her daddies aren’t married thing.

So, one night when Dean is giving Claire a bath she asks him.

“Daddy?” She asks.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

She closes her eyes when Dean pour water on her head and massages shampoo into her hair, “Why aren’t you and dada married?”

Dean stops massaging her hair, “Claire, it’s complicated.” He says softly continuing to massage the shampoo in.

She opens her eyes and stares up at him, “How is it comp, com-, that big word.” She says giving up.

“Because it just is. There are some things that you just won’t understand honey.” He says softly, grabbing the cup and filling it with water.

Claire nods and tilts her head back and shuts her eyes tight, so dean can wash the shampoo out of her hair.

After her bath Dean dries her off and wraps her up in a soft, fluffy towel and carries her to her room.

Cas is sitting on the floor waiting for them and smiles when they walk into the room.

“There’s my two favorite people.” He says grinning.

Dean smiles and sits down on the floor, cradling Claire in his arms. He takes a seat across from Cas.

“Hi Dada.” She says smiling.

Cas holds out his arms and Dean hands Claire over, “My sweet Claire.”

She smiles and looks at Dean and back at Cas, “Dada?” She asks.

Cas looks down at her and kisses her nose, “Yes?”

“Why aren’t you and daddy married?” She asks softly.

Cas looks up at Dean and he just shrugs. Cas looks back at Cas and sighs.

“Honey, it’s complicated.” He tells her.

She sighs, “First Uncle Sam tells me that. Then daddy and now you. Just get married. Don’t you guys love each other?”

“We do. Very much.” Dean and Cas say at the same time.

“Then just get married already.” She says with an attitude.

Cas laughs, “Told you she is a mini you,” He says looking at Dean, “But we’ll talk about it sweetheart. But right now, it’s time to get ready for bed.” He says standing her up.

Dean and Cas dress her and tuck her into together and even reads her a bedtime story. By time they are done with their routine, they fall into bed and fall asleep shortly after.

A few weeks later Dean and Claire are sitting in Claire’s room, playing with barbies, “Hey, Claire bear.”

Claire looks up from her dollhouse, “Yes, Daddy?”

Dean sets his Barbie down and stands up, “How would you like to help me plan a surprise for dada?” He asks.

She drops her Barbie and gets to her feet, “Okay!” She says excitedly.

Dean picks her up and carries her out of the room. They walk to their room and he places Claire on their bed.

He walks over to his night stand and pulls out and box and kneels in front or Claire.

“What’s in the box?” She asks looking up at her Dad.

Dean smiles and opens the box, “I’m going to ask your dad to marry me.” He says showing off the ring in the box.

Claire stand up on the bed and jumps up and down, “Yay!!!! Daddy and dada are getting married!” She screams.

Dean pockets the box and grabs Claire, “Shhh, sweetheart. Dad doesn’t know.”

Claire puts her hand over her mouth and whispers, “Sorry, daddy. Please don’t be mad.”

Dean kisses her cheek, “I’m not mad sweetheart. Come on, let’s go ask dad to marry me.”

She nods, and they exit the room.

After Dean dresses Claire in a pretty blue dress and hands her the sign to hold as she enters the library, the ball starts rolling on the proposal.

Cas is sitting in the library reading a lore book when Claire enters the room.

“Dada.” She says walking over to him.

Cas closes his book and turns toward her, “Hi, honey. What-” he trails off seeing the sign in Claire’s hands, “-what’s going on?” He asks her softly.

“Read the sign dada.” She says.

Cas reads the sign five times, “Dada will you marry daddy?” The sign reads.

“What-“ he starts when dean enters the room holding a single rose and a little box in his hand.

He walks over to Claire and hands her to rose to hold and gets down on one knee and opens the box.

Tears start rolling down Cas’s face.

“Cas, I love you and Claire so damn much. I don’t want to go another day without being married to you. So, will please marry me?” He asks, tears falling down his face as well.

Cas nods, “Yes, yes I’ll marry you!” He flings himself at Dean and they fall to the floor.

Dean grabs Cas’s face and pulls him in for a kiss.

Claire drops her sign and rose and jumps on them, “My daddies are getting married!” She shouts.

Dean and Cas laugh, “Claire, get up honey.” They say softly.

Claire climbs off them and Cas pulls himself off Dean kneeling on his knees. Dean sits up and grabs Cas’s left hand and slides the ring on his finger.

Claire throws her little arms around their necks. Dean and Cas wrap their arms around her and each other and share a family hug.

A few months later their wedding day arrives. All their friends and family are gathered in the church waiting to share their day with them.

Dean is standing at the alter with Sam next to his side and Gabriel standing behind him.

Charlie walks down the aisle in a pretty blue gown and winks at dean as she takes her place.

Next Eileen walks down the aisle in a pretty green gown and the entire time she has her eyes locked on Sam.

Dean smiles, thinking to himself They are next.

Next Claire walks down the aisle in a pretty, white, sparkly flower girl dress. She has a flower crown in her hair and the biggest smile on her face. Instead of a flower basket, like Dean thought she would have she has a wooden sign.

It reads, “Here comes Dad.” With a little heart next to it.

By time Claire reaches Eileen he’s crying.

The music starts, and the church doors open and in walks Cas.

He’s in a black suit, with a blue tie, making his bright blue eyes pop even more. He has a red rose pinned to his suit and a big smile on his face.

His hair is tousled, and his tan is noticeable with him wearing his dark suit. The suit hugs Cas in all the right ways. From his broad shoulders, to his muscles arms. To his thick, muscular thighs.

And his big, soft hands that handle Dean and their daughter with such care, but can smite a demon and crush their skull, are locked together and in front of him.

He’s taking his time walking down the aisle, but Dean would wait a lifetime if he had to.

When he finally reaches the alter he smiles at Dean and whispers, “Hello, Dean.”

Dean wipes his eyes, “You look beautiful, Cas.” He chokes out.

The reverend motions for everyone to takes their seats and dean and Cas turn towards each other and holds hands.

The ceremony is short and sweet, and they chose traditional vows.

Cas slides the ring on Deans finger and the blue and green diamonds encrusted in the band catches his eye and makes him cry again.

The reverend tells them they can kiss, so Dean cups Cas’s cheek and softly plants his lips on Cas’s soft, plump lips. It starts out soft and slow, and their friends and family claps. But then the kiss picks up when Cas runs his tongue along the bottom of Deans lip. Dean is apprehensive about it but opens up for him. Cas slips is tongue in and licks Deans mouth. Their tongues do a back and forth dance and their friends and family starts whistling.

“Get a room!” Gabriel shouts.

They break apart and the reverend turns them towards their friends and family and pronounces them Mr. and Mr. Winchester.

Dean and Cas lock hands and rub down the aisle.

The party takes place in a hotel ball room and everyone has a great time.

Dean and Cas do their first dance as husbands and then they both dance with Claire and everyone is all teary eyed.

After a few hours or dancing and mingling with their friends and family Cas tells Dean it’s time to go.

They walk over to Sam and Eileen who are dancing with Claire.

“Sammy, you better take extra good care of my Claire bear, while we’re gone.” Dean says patting him on the back.

“Don’t worry Dean, she’s in good hand.” Eileen tells him.

“Yeah, Dean. You know I love Claire with all my heart.” Sam tells him.

“Hey Claire.” Dean says.

Claire stops dancing and runs to her dad. Dean scoops her up and hugs her tight, “You be good for Uncle Sam, okay?” He asks.

She nods, “Yes, daddy.”

“Good, now give me a kiss.” She kisses her dad and Dean hands her to Cas.

“Okay my little angel. You be good. We’ll see you in a week. We love you.” Cas tells her hugging her tight.

Claire kisses his cheek, “I love you to dada. Now please put me down so I can dance!”

Cas chuckles and sets her down, she runs back to Eileen and grabs her hand and continues to dance.

“She’s going to sleep so good tonight. Remember Sam, no letting her stay up late, no matter how much she begs.” Dean says.

Sam rolls his eyes and hugs his brother, “Yeah, yeah. Now you two better get going before you miss you flight. I’ll see you in a week.”

Dean nods and watches Sam and Cas hug. Cas returns to Deans side and grabs his hand and they run out of the room with everyone applauding.

When they arrive at the airport, Dean is shocked when he finds out Cas is taking him to Paris.

“But, how-,” he starts, “-thank you.” He says kissing Cas on the cheek.

Cas smiles, “We might only get to see Paris for a day or two though.” He tells him.

Dean looks confused, “Why?”

Cas kisses his husband’s cheek and whispers in his ear and grabs his husband’s ass, “Because, I don’t plan on leaving our hotel room.”

Dean gulps and nods. God, can we be alone already. Dean thinks to himself.

They arrive in Paris and the first thing they do is make love all over their hotel room. They start as soon as they walk into the room with Dean pinning Cas against the wall and taking him right then and there.

Then they make love of the sofa.

Then they end up on the floor.

Next is the shower and Jacuzzi tub.

Then they make their way out to the balcony and Dean fucks Cas right against the railing, both not caring who see or hears them.

And then they finally make it to the bed.

They both are laying on their backs, hands intertwined panting and sated.

“Dean, you’ve been holding back.” Cas says after catching his breath.

Dean rolls on his side and props himself up on his elbow, “Yeah, well when we have a three-year-old that takes ninety percent of our time and hunting takes up the other ten percent, it’s hard to let loose like that.”

Cas rolls on his side and places his hand on Deans hip, “I know. We haven’t had much time for ourselves.” He says softly rubbing circles on Dean’s hip.

“Hey,” Dean pauses waiting for Cas’s eyes to meet his, when Cas looks up he continues, “It’s okay. It happens. If you can’t tell, I still want you. I’ll always want you.” As if on cue, Dean’s dick hardens.

Cas chuckles, “I know. I know you do. We just have to make sure we make time for one another.”

Dean nods and climbs on top of Cas, “Now is a great time to start.” He says dipping his head and kissing Cas’s neck.

Cas chuckles, “Dean, we just finished having sex for the seventh time.”

Dean nips his neck and nuzzles it with his nose, “So? Are you telling me you don’t want me, Mr. Winchester?”

Mr. Winchester, Cas loves the sound of that, “No, Mr. Winchester. In fact, I’d love it if you’d make love to me.” he says softly.

Dean pulls back and cups Cas’s cheek, “I love you.” He whispers and captures Cas’s lips with his own.

They spend the first two days of their honeymoon in their hotel room making love.

On third day they go exploring and don’t return until later.

On the fourth day Cas takes Dean to the Eiffel Tower. They spend the day climbing the stairs to the top and their day having dinner there.

On the fifth day Cas wants to tour The Louvre and the Notre Dam-de Paris.

On the sixth day they walk the streets of Paris and have dinner at a quiet little restaurant.

Over dinner Cas decides to bring up an email he received.

“Dean.” Cas says after taking a sip of his wine.

“Yeah?” He asks.

Cas grabs his phone and opens his email, “I received an email from the adoption agency, where we got Claire.” He tells him.

“Okay, and?”

“And, Claire’s birth mother is pregnant and wants us to adopt the baby after it’s born.” He says, sliding his phone over to Dean so he can view the email.

Dean grabs Cas’s phone and reads the email. When he’s finished he hands Cas his phone and smiles.

“So, what are your thoughts?” Cas asks.

Dean reaches his hand across the table and Cas places his hand in Deans, “Let’s do it.” He says smiling.

Cas perks up, “Really?” He asks.

Dean nods, “Yes, I want to adopt Claire’s sibling.”

Cas smiles, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They finish their dinner and head back to the hotel room.

The next morning, they wake up and pack before they head to the airport.

They are sad to be leaving, but they can’t wait to get home and see their daughter.

When they pull into the bunkers garage, before Dean can put the impala in park Cas is throwing himself out the Car and running into the bunker.

Dean shakes his head, parks the car, and leaves the bags in the trunk.

He enters the bunker and sees Cas hugging Claire.

When Claire sees Dean, she asks Cas to put her down and comes running over to him, “DADDY!” She screams throwing herself into his arms.

He scoops her up and hugs her tight, “Hi, Sweetheart.”

When they pull into the bunkers garage, before Dean can put the impala in park Cas is throwing himself out the Car and running into the bunker.

Dean shakes his head, parks the car, and leaves the bags in the trunk.

He enters the bunker and sees Cas hugging Claire.

When Claire sees Dean, she asks Cas to put her down and comes running over to him, “DADDY!” She screams throwing herself into his arms.

He scoops her up and hugs her tight, “Hi, Sweetheart.”

“I missed you.” She says.

“And we missed you. Now tell me, where you good for uncle Sam?” He asks softly.

Claire nods, “I didn’t even ask him to stay up past my bed time. And I kept my room clean.”

Dean nods, “Where is uncle Sam?”

She points to the hallway, “Him and aunt Eileen are in my room. We were playing barbies. But he’s not as good as you and dad.” She whispers.

Dean chuckles and sets her down. She takes off towards her room.

Dean holds his hand out to Cas and he walks over and links their fingers. They walk down the hall and enter Claire’s room.

“Uncle Sam, you can’t put those shoes with that dress.” Claire tells Sam.

“Yes, you can! They match the dress perfectly!” He argues.

“Gee Sam, I didn’t peg you as a fashion expert.” Dean chuckles.

Sam whips his head and sees Dean and Cas standing in the doorway, “Hey! Your back!”

They enter the room and sit on the floor between Sam and Eileen, “Yeah, we are. Hi Eileen.” Dean says, signing hi to Eileen.

“Hi Dean. Welcome back Mr. and Mr. Winchester.” She says.

“How was Paris?” Sam asks.

Dean and Cas share a smile, “Amazing.” They say in unison.

Sam cringes, “Next time, I won’t ask.”

Dean places a hand on his shoulder, “Oh come on Sammy. When you and Eileen get married, you’ll be doing the same thing.”

“Ha, yeah.” Sam says.

Cas clears his throat, “We have something important to tell you both.”

Sam and Eileen lean in and Cas and Dean share a look, “We got an email saying Claire’s birth mom is expecting again. And she asked us to adopt the baby. She doesn’t want anyone else.” They explain.

“And?” Sam asks.

“And, we decided we’re going to.” They say together.

Eileen and Sam smile, “Congratulations!” They say together.

“Thanks. We still have to tell Claire.” Dean says.

“But we agreed to do it in a special way.” Cas explains.

Sam and Eileen nod and agree to keep quiet about it.

They spend the rest of the day catching up and spending time with their daughter.

A week later Dean and Cas make an appointment with the adoption agency and Claire’s birth mother.

They find out she’s due in a couple of weeks and is having a boy.

So, after Dean and Cas go to the baby store and purchases everything they will need for a newborn, plus more. All the furniture will be delivered later that day. So, they go and get decorations for the nursery and a bunch of baby clothes.

Before they head home, they stop at the t-shirt store to pick up the custom t-shirt they made for Claire.

When they get home, they leave everything besides the t-shirt in the car.

Claire is sitting in her room, playing with her kitchen set when Dean and Cas enter.

“Claire bear.” Dean says in a sing song voice.

“Yes, daddy?” She says turning around.

“Come here, we have a present for you.”

Claire runs over and excitedly holds her hands out. Dean takes the bag out from behind his back and hands it to Claire.

Dean and Cas grip each other tight and smile brightly at her.

She rips the tissue paper out of the bag and pulls out the purple shirt with butterflies on it.

“It’s so pretty! Thank you!” She tells them.

“Read what is says, Claire.” Cas tells her.

She holds it up and reads it out loud, “Big Sister. What does that mean?” She asks them.

Dean and Cas kneel, so they are eye level with her, “Well honey, that means you’re going to have a little sibling in a couple of weeks.” Dean says softly.

“What daddy means is, we are adopting a baby boy. You’re going to be a big sister.” Cas explains.

She looks at them and smiles, “Really?” she asks.

They nod, “Yes really.”

She squeals and throws her little arms around their necks, “I am so happy!”

A few weeks later, they get a phone call in the middle of the night saying Claire’s mother is in labor with their son.

Dean and Cas jump out of bed and get dressed.

They wake up Sam and Eileen to tell them the exciting news and tell them they will call when the baby is here, so they can bring Claire out to meet her brother.

Dean speeds to the hospital and go in to tell Claire’s mother she’ll do great and to thank her for choosing them to adopt her son.

A few hours later a nurse comes out to the waiting room to tell Dean and Cas their son is waiting to meet them.

They follow her into a little room and the nurse picks the baby up out of the bassinet and hands him to Dean.

“At 7:43 am on September 19th, your son was born. He weighed in at 8lbs 7oz and 19 and 1/2 inches long.” The nurse tells him.

Dean and Cas look down and their beautiful, healthy son and they start crying.

“What do you plan on naming him?” She asks, clipboard in hand.

Dean and Cas share a look and Dean nods, “Jack Winchester.” Cas tells her.

The lady nods, “You’ll be able to take him home in a few days. We want to make sure he’s all good to go and go over the procedures with you on how to change a diaper, bottle feed him and so forth.” She explains.

They nod, and she exits the room giving them privacy.

Dean hands Jack to Cas and pulls out his phone to call Sam.

Before he calls Sam, he snaps a picture of Cs holding Jack and looking at him lovingly.

He calls Sam and tells him to bring Claire out whenever she wakes up.

A few hours later Sam, Eileen, and Claire arrive at the hospital.

Cas goes out to meet them and brings them to the room.

Dean’s holding Jack while Cas comes in the room holding Claire, Sam and Eileen following close behind.

Dean looks at Claire, “Hi, sweetheart. Dad and I have someone we want you to meet.”

Cas comes over with Claire and she stares at the sleeping baby.

“Claire, this is your baby brother Jack.” Dean tells her softly.

“Jack? I like that name.” She says.

Dean and Cas chuckle, “Good to know.”

“Can I give him a kiss?” She asks.

Dean nods and holds Jack, so Claire can give her brother a kiss. When she does they hear a click of a camera and looks at Eileen.

“Sorry, I brought my camera. I wanted to capture some shots of you guys with Jack and Claire meeting him.”

Dean and Cas smile, grateful someone thought to capture the precious moment and spend some time getting their pictures taken.

After Sam and Eileen leaves, Dean and Cas are sitting on the couch in the room.

Claire is snuggled in Cas’s arms, and Jack is cuddled in Deans arms.

Dean looks at his beautiful family, “What did I do to get so lucky to have such a beautiful family?” He asks softly.

Cas lays his head on Dean’s shoulder, “Just by being you, Dean.”

Dean smiles and kisses the top of Cas’s head, “I love you, Cas.”

“I love you too, Dean.”

101 notes · View notes

vertigoambrosia · 6 years ago

Text

shotgun time

we start with a recap of the assassination of lucky kid by the coward tarkan aslan

and an obligatory ‘fuck you, vimeo’

jurn’s pic just looks like he’s smelled something nasty

look at lucky! having a real interview! his hair’s even kinda combed

it’s good lucky has his british friends

oh damn lucky ‘back to insiginificance’ that is one hell of a statement

ok his hair looks kinda silly from the front

IT’S YAY-HIGH

fred no!

stay away from tarkan!

he’s no good!

SHUT UP TARKAN u full of shit

lmao you know tarkan was just talking fred’s ear off

aww fred thaat’s fucking gross

lmaoooooooooooooo good move fred

it’s weird - since jurn came back i realized i’m not actually that into him anymore?

maybe i just don’t find heel jurn as entertaining as face/tweener jurn idk

maybe i just am still mourning th eloss of the air guitar

OH COME ON WHERE IS THE REF

really tas? you got in the ring on the same side come on you had to see that shit

perhaps it’s just that i’m in a not great emotional world so mr. i don’t care is extra offensive

perhaps i’m just stupid

not as stupid as jurn will look bald OHHHHH

wtf was that throw

i don’t necessarily mean that in a bad way but ???

ALAN STOP PRONOUNCING JURN WRONG

jurn ~taking his time~ is totally in character but also makes a match pretty boring

veit’s been growing on me butbleh at this match

shoulkderbreaker is a super weird move

the turnbuckle spot seemed unusually contrived...

mannn why did wesna and meiko have to fight each other in the first rounddddd i wanna see more matches from both of them

cerberus time!

aww even with their business, they will always make time for ilja

because they are magic bonded

ilja is so relatable

‘i cant believe andy is the one dude i can’t beat! i just....how do i wrap my brain around this??’

bobby you are not invited to this club meeting

wow ilja’s storyline is literally ‘will ilja be able to learn how to chill?’

once again: relatable

oh cool wesna will be around all 3 days!

also: still sad that tim and jeff won’t be interracting

bobby is the only person who can lose to someone and then say that person is beneath them

even taking into account marius’ cheating

i do like how he’s also like ‘i want no part of that lion family drama shit’

that’s a cute shirt julian has there

ughghgh tarkan

tell him!

OH SHIT

god tarkan is terrible

oh hi pete

nice to see you and ivan and your abs make a lil cameo

awwwwwww i’m glad lucky and yehi are friendly

once again, wxw shows how evolve managed to misuse its guys’ charisma - yehi and tim have fought and that match was.....*sigh*

aww tim how could u deny lucky???

fun note: lucky has said on insta that the match with tim at carat was one of his favorites :3

lmaooo tim has no patience for lucky’s lil games

oh lucky

don’t be a dick walter! or hurt that lil face

LMAO ALAN BROUGHT UP THE TRASHY TIM NICKNAME

though stokely did not invent it - matt riddle did

stokely only started saying that when tim dumped him for walter

it definitely did not have to do with trash talk though but nice try alan

hahaha of course lucky loves the bicycle kick move

really fred and lucky are working super well together; i’m really impressed

aw, no pete and ivan? well..ok

1 note · View note

loveinthebones · 7 years ago

Text

can’t you see i’m falling apart, love (want to fall together?)

Word count: ~9, 878

Chapter Summary: Dan is learning more about Phil as time goes on.

Read it on AO3

Check out the art and the artist for this!

Also our lovely beta.

Part Three: Anger, second act (Dan)

Dan found himself drawn to the golden van more often than not.

It had started out as a bit of playful revenge for Phil’s knowing arched brow when he passed through after the meetings that seemed to come all at once but it turned into something else when the little tradition of Dan getting a single flower from Phil had started...

“I’m going to save my free bouquet,” Dan told Phil, lounging in the space of the open door of Phil’s van with his chin pressed into his chest as he looked at his phone. Phil had on a faded apron that nearly matched his vehicle perfectly. It was dusted with soil and...an array of different stains. Dan was pretty sure that the majority of them were coffee but one blob resembled the stain on a shirt he had lost to a mishap at his first YouTube get together involving too much red wine.

(He had left shortly after to lay across a fountain with still warm stone as he tried to keep the crisps and pizza from earlier in the night from making a reappearance. It had been one of the moments he had felt most isolated.)

“Hm?” Phil grunted from where he sat on the floor, legs wrapped carefully around the pot he had cracked as he filled a replacement with fresh dirt to transfer the poor succulent. “What was that?”

“I’m going to save my free bouquet,” Dan repeated, tapping on his screen to like the post on his dashboard. “For when I might really need it.”

“That’s fine.” Phil clicked his tongue before murmuring, “I’m really sorry, Susan. I didn’t mean to drop you. I’m going to leave you in the nicest ray of sun I can. I’ll even move Thor.”

Dan blinked before he lowered his phone to his chest to take in the smooth, sturdy movements as Phil worked. He couldn’t help himself.

“You name your plants?”

“Yeah?” Phil craned his neck to squint at Dan, swiping his gloved hand across his cheek where a bead of sweat was making his skin tickle. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“Some people do, I guess, but Susan? Really?”

“It’s a good name! A strong name!”

“There are better names.” Dan rolled his eyes and yelped when something crashed against his cheek. He glanced down to the motionless glove in his lap and then to Phil who had gone back to moving Susan to her new home without mentioning his hand nudity.

“You rat,” Dan growled without a hint of heat, picking up the offending article to flop it back and forth in the other’s direction. “I should keep this.”

“Please, don’t.” Phil told him, relaxed and not worried about the potential hostage situation at hand. “I do like these gloves, you know. How about we trade? A flower for a glove?”

Dan took a moment to seem like he was giving Phil’s solution great thought- bringing his temporary prisoner under his chin as he cupped his jaw, tossing it from hand to hand- until Phil lobbed a handful of dirt in his direction with slight force.

It fell short, of course, but that was enough for Dan to grin and lean back. “Alright.”

So Dan returned from his visits from Phil with a different flower clutched in his hand each time. He would give them to Ruthie who was both delighted and amused by the sudden influx of surprise flora. She had taken to putting them in small glasses of water, dotting them around the apartment, and soaking in his misery when he inevitably was mopping up water from their carpet with incoherent noises of displeasure.

@RuthineHayes tweeted: @danisnotonfire is having a hard time with the peony. (Cry laughing emoji)(Water droplets emoji)(Heart emoji)

September 1 3:17pm

@danisnotonfire replied: @RuthineHayes if SOMEBODY would stop leaving them where i move the tripod. that would be great. (Eyes emoji)(Heart emoji)

September 1 7:48pm

The little incidents gave Dan another reason to go visit Phil and tell him what havoc his flowers were wreaking on his existence (with Phil reminding him that he could refuse the flowers which usually ended with Dan scoffing and leaving with another) and somehow, the conversations drifted into ever evolving topics. They could be arguing about which was better: hot chocolate or coffee? and end on what type of Pokemon they would specialize in if they were gym leaders.

Dan was convinced that Phil would fill the role of a grass/poison trainer but Phil was adamant that he leant towards fire with his soft spot for Growlithe and Houndour. Phil surprised him by placing him as a psychic leaning trainer, and Dan couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh.

Sadly, it seemed like there was always a constant flow of people to Phil’s van so they didn’t get to talk as much as Dan would like. He should be astonished at the traffic for Phil’s little business but he wasn’t-not really. Phil made it a point to talk with every customer and help them leave just a smidge happier than before. It was hard to resist the embodiment of sunshine, Dan mused, and he couldn’t blame those that returned to get a bit of Phil’s personal brand of comfortable heat.

Dan was guilty as well. Who was he to judge?

It was one of those days in London where the wind nipped at places where your skin was exposed and brought a rosy glow to the surface. The leaves in the trees rustled, and Dan had his hands curled into the sleeves of his black jumper, shivering slightly as Phil sat in a chair with his leg crossed on his knee to prop up the thick book he was reading.

Phil had his left hand in the pouch of the green hoodie he was wearing while his right flipped the pages contentedly.

There hadn’t been anyone by in a while, and Dan was starting to twitch with restless energy and the urge to move about to shake off the slight chill. He let his gaze wander around the sparse set up of Phil’s greenery before letting himself tip back to peek behind the passenger seat where he had been sitting. There were towels thrown over some of the pots and Dan had to smile at the fuzzy maroon blanket wrapped around Loki’s small pot lovingly.

It seemed Phil had been worried about his “babies” and had decided to keep them protected in their home.

“Phil?” Dan called and pouted when Phil held up a single finger, mouthing silent words as he read. “Phiiiil.”

“Yes, Danny-” Phil began, eyes still roving across the printed text before he blinked. Dan caught a flash of pink as Phil licked his lips. “-Dan. Yes, Dan?”

“Did you just call me Danny?” He couldn’t keep the affectionate incredulousness from seeping into the words falling into the air between them even as he squeezed his brows closer together and stretched back over the center console because he knew it irritated Phil. “Don’t call me that, Philly.” He threw back saucily, reaching down for the small black drawstring bag he had taken to carrying.

Phil raised an eyebrow but still didn’t turn his head, determined to finish the page he was having to re-read as he wondered why Dan was such a distraction. “What’s wrong with you, anyway?”

“I’m bored!” Dan groused as his fingers closed around the sleek black camera, glancing at Phil. He pressed the button and drummed his thumbs on screen in an uneven rhythm.

How long has it been since I’ve done a vlog?

Dan’s eyes became slits as he shifted through his memory- rifling through abandoned script ideas, videos that he had chosen to keep private after he uploaded them, and the running list of titles-before he remembered. The last vlog had been when Peej was leaving for his shoot and they had spent the day together wandering around the city, rummaging through thrift shops and antique stores for props.

Has it really been that long? Jeeze.

He pressed the record button without thinking, rolling his shoulders, before pointing it at his face and stating, “Edit this out.” before moving the focus to Phil who was unaware of the camera before clearing his throat.

Phil canted his head toward him, folding the corner of the page deftly as he did, and Dan watched as he placed both feet on the ground. His face morphed into an almost instantaneous grin as he realized he was being recorded.

Has he been on camera before? That is...remarkable.

It was also slightly worrying and Dan lowered the camera so the lens rested on his knee lightly, darkening the footage to black.

“That was...really creepy,” Dan acknowledged with a wince. “Sorry- I was thinking of filming a vlog and-” He was probably digging himself a bigger hole, and his words sped up with the guilt of filming Phil without his prior consent and...the way his whole demeanor had shifted with ease. “Would you like to be in it? You can say no.”

Phil’s expression went lax with a less pronounced but relieved upward turn of his lips and the muscles around his eyes smoothed out as he let himself slant back against the chair. He didn’t seem irked by Dan’s misstep with his arms having moved behind his head, making his chest more prominent, and the fact that he was sticking out his tongue at him.

“You worry too much, Danny,” Phil surmised before continuing in a supportive intonation: “I know it was playful. I can hear! I have ears!” He reached to pull them out and wiggle them for emphasis.

Dan shielded his face with his free sweater paw and groaned, a single chuckle escaping from him.

“I don’t know you.”

“Well, then…” Phil lamented with a deep put-upon sigh, letting his hands fall to his lap. “I guess that me agreeing to be in your vlog doesn’t matter then?”

Dan was glad his face was covered as he felt his pulse quicken at Phil wanting to be in his vlog. There was a happy writhing feeling that seemed to leap from his chest to nestle itself at the base of his throat and he could feel his cheeks straining from how wide he was smiling.

He slid his hand down so it was only obscuring the lower half of his face. Phil was regarding him with half-lidded eyes and slightly parted lips.

Dan’s heart skipped a beat (literally). His hand fell away so he could jerk the camera back into focus and once again, Phil slipped into that shining, peppy persona flawlessly.

Dan scooted to the edge of the seat before settling his feet on the ground and standing slowly, swivelling the camera’s lens to his face and giving his two finger salute.

He had to step into his own...slightly different headspace but for a moment, his lips turned down as his eyes flicked to Phil and he bit his lip in concern before taking a breath to repeat the gesture he had been starting his videos off with since he had set up his YouTube channel.

“Hello Internet!” Dan greeted before stepping away from the van and rotating slowly so that his fans would be able to analyze the background if they wished- making sure to catch the hand painted ‘Succulents’ sign, the purple cluster of verbenas on the top shelf before slowly making his way towards Phil. “If you have been following me on Twitter...you would know that my life has been overrun by flowers!” Dan wrinkled his nose slightly before he gave a quiet laugh.

Phil pressed his mouth into a thin line and raised his eyes toward the sky for a moment before pressing his lips outward in a face that resembled a squirrel about to eat a nut.

“I thought I would--” Dan’s sentence halted immediately as he caught sight of Phil. He coughed into his elbow and questioned in a strained voice, “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” Phil claimed with a soft clap before he waved his hands in a blur, palms out and fingers splayed. “Hi guys! How’s it been?”

Dan couldn’t help but feel like he sunk a bit deeper into the ever growing affection he had for the unpredictable florist but he gave an imperceptible swing of his head, reaching out to swat at Phil’s shoulder lightly. “Hey! Don’t steal my spotlight, you spoon.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you were on your game, Danny!”

Oh. Is it going to be like that? You’re on, Philly.

“Right, you are,” Dan agreed easily, pressing the camera closer to Phil so he could capture the brief moment of the other’s surprise: raised eyebrows, slightly bugged eyes. There was a rush of gleeful triumph before he waved a hand dismissively. “I thought everyone would like to meet the culprit. This is Phil, my amazing personal florist, who has also ruined my life.”

Dan extended his arm so he could get them both in frame and Phil stepped to the side to block him from view.

“Plant world domination should be happening any day now but shhh!” Phil pressed a single finger to his lips, looking furtively over his shoulder at Dan.

Holy shit. That smile. Is going to kill me.

Phil was facing the imaginary third audience with a conspiratorial: “But don’t tell Dan!” and Dan was fighting at the acute pang echoing through his chest. It reminded him of Ruth standing before him without any shred of clothing and adoration clear in the way she held herself under his own besotted gaze but this was...sharper. It was nearly painful with its intensity and Dan fought to keep his eyes from stinging with the threat of tears.

“You need to be careful, Dan.”

“What?” Dan paused with the spatula raised to flip over the ham and cheese sandwich that was being grilled in the skillet.

“I…” Sophie tried uncertainly before she took a deep breath. “You talk about this Phil guy like you talk about Ruth.”

“He’s becoming a really good friend.” The words sounded weak even to his own ears.

“Dan…” That single syllable held a note of despondency and a large amount of concern. He could hear Sophie pulling out a chair. “Peej will let you do your thing. He’s a big believer in making your own mistakes and figuring out who you are through those. But..” Sophie paused before she hit him with a calm question to shatter the shaky contentedness his mind had settled into. “I have to ask...are you gay?”

The pungent aroma of the charring bread didn’t reach him as he dropped the spatula. His knees buckled and he caught himself on the counter.

Was he gay?

He had figured out that he had a crush on Phil but he had definitely felt the same...symptoms...for Ruthie. The jumps in heartbeat, craving being in her presence, and the fascination with lips…

Pale smooth lips with a tongue poking out. Pinker, heart shaped lips that always had the form of a smile.

“No...I’m not gay.” Dan choked out, and he heard Sophie let out a hefty sigh. His mouth was dry and as he hastily flicked the burner off, he came to a realization:

He wasn’t gay but that didn’t mean he was straight.

So why didn’t he say that out loud then?

“Ah!” Dan squawked as his cheek was smacked faintly, flinching away from the impact before leaning into the weight still present without thinking about it. Phil had sucked in his bottom lip between his front teeth and that’s when Dan realized he was using the man’s palm as a pillow of a sorts. His cheeks seared with a familiar heat. “I’m sorry--what?”

“Are you okay?”

Phil...Phil was absolutely mind-blankingly, disarmingly…

Standing so close, Dan felt Phil’s breath fanning across his cheeks and he also felt the sheer craving to shuffle closer clawing at his rib cage.

Dan recoiled, taking a step back and gave a false, jagged titter.

“Of course.” The lie tasted sour on his tongue but he let it slither past his lips before aiming the camera that he had dropped to his side on Phil. “Come on, Phil! The people want a promo!”

Don’t focus on me. Please.

Let me be danisnotonfire for now. Not Dan Howell who isn’t gay or straight and falling for a boy with a heart of a lion.

“Er…” Phil was quick to regain his composure, glancing at his hand for a millisecond before dropping it and his line of sight to the floor timidly. “I’m not really good at those but,” Phil showed some teeth but his tongue was safely hidden as he winked. “I am Phil Lester and this is my flower truck- An Array of Sunshine!”

“That...just…” Dan couldn’t even form a coherent sentence as he gave Phil an offended look. “No.”

“I didn’t come up with it!” Phil defended indignantly, holding Dan captive as he turned his head towards him. “Martyn did!”

“Martyn?”

“My brother. He actually runs the website that we take deliveries from…” Phil reached up to knead the back of his neck. “I should probably mention that…”

“Link will be in the descrizzle,” Dan chimed in and pointed downwards where the perimeter of the video would be before he addressed Phil in his calmer speaking voice. “Is it a traditional website?”

“I have one, yes. There’s also a Twitter.” Phil’s eyes skittered away from his, tightening his grip on the nape of his neck before releasing his hold. Dan saw his eyes darken before Phil was dazzling the camera once more. “You guys can check out the Twitter if you want but it’s pretty inactive…” Phil’s frame was quaking- lips jumping with the effort to not peel back and expose his teeth- before he finished his thought: “The handle is @pocketPHIL-” At this point, he swept his hand down his torso. “-ofsunshine.”

“You DID NOT…” Dan angled his chin up slightly so he could jut it out in disbelief.

“I didn’t.” Phil confirmed in a voice so muted and small that it reminded Dan of stardust drifting in the abyss of space. “My partner did.”

Phil laughed but, somehow, it sounded wrong in Dan’s ears. It sounded like giggling even though his lungs were begging for air as he sprawled on the carpet with the light off. It sounded like the slam of the door as he stood in his dorm for the first time with the silence ringing in his ears and homesickness already sitting heavy in his stomach.

Phil has a partner? I thought the business was just his?

It sounded like a human puzzle barely holding the pieces of themselves together.

Dan’s lips separated.

“Hi?” A hushed, apprehensive voice cut in hesitantly, and Dan watched the girl sway from side to side from where she was standing at the table set up next to the van, on the right most side from where they were standing. “I don’t mean to interrupt…” She reached up to swipe a lock of light brown hair behind her ear.

“You’re fine,” Phil rushed to alleviate the girl’s nervousness. “How may I help you?” He moved fluidly around Dan, brushing his fingertips across his upper arm as he passed, so he could help the newcomer.

“You aren’t interrupting anything,” Dan added, ignoring the goosebumps prickling under his jumper at the simple touch. He lifted his camera and jostled it up and down. “I’m just making a video.”

“I know.” The girl spoke, and Dan watched as her cheeks started to flush as she took a sharp breath. “I watch your videos.”

“Oh,” Dan exclaimed in a pleasantly surprised gasp before briefly catching a glimpse of the girl’s face in the shot. “I’m meeting one of you guys! Hold on.” Dan’s thumb flicked the button to stop recording before he made his way over to Phil and the girl, laying his equipment carelessly on the low shelf he passed.

The girl was wringing her hands, eyes darting from Dan to the ground, as the freckles dotted across her cheeks stood out from her tomato red face.

“It’s okay.” Phil giggled lowly, drawing closer to the girl.“What’s your name?”

“Sofie.”

“Sofie,” Phil was properly bubbling over with merriment now as he placed a hand on Sofie’s shoulder with a nearly weightless pressure. “Do you like Pokémon?”

Sofie’s head was level with Phil’s jaw, and he curled his shoulders to bring himself a bit lower and Dan rolled his bottom lip under his teeth. Sofie was looking at Phil with round blue eyes, swallowing, before she answered:

“Er...yes?”

“Great!” Phil cheered, removing his hand from her shoulder to point at Dan. “What type of Pokémon trainer do you think Dan would be?”

This is going to become a thing, isn’t it?

Dan loosely folded his arms across his chest to let out a puff of air, swivelling his head, as he dipped his chin slightly with an indulgent half-smile.

I see what you’re doing. You can’t just woo the people coming to see us.

Sofie hummed thoughtfully, popping out a hip as she drummed her fingers on her chin. “I mean... it depends?” She paused and Dan shot her what he hoped was a smile that would nudge her to say what was on her mind. It seemed to work, and Sofie continued, “Well… I would think dark because of your...uh…” Sofie waved at him inarticulately, even more color flooding her cheeks.

“It’s okay,” Dan encouraged, amused. “You can say it’s because I dress like death. I’m sure Ruthie would agree with you.”

Sofie sniggered, finally seeming to relax as she nodded, “I wouldn’t say it like that...how is Ruth?”

Phil flattened his lips before his tongue darted out to swipe across his top lip as Dan rocked back on his heels, a gentle “Mmm…” tumbling from his throat as the corners of his lips lifted.

“She’s good,” Dan answered, grinning at Sofie teasingly. “She has some news for you guys, but I can’t tell.”

Sofie’s cheeks were straining from how wide she was smiling, and she bounced on her toes before blurting out: “What is it?”

“All I can say is check Twitter.” Dan lowered one eyelid in a cheeky wink. His easy-going image slipped as Phil withdrew from Sofie’s side to adjust a pot of yellow clusters of star-shaped flowers.

“I will!” Sofie bubbled before she curled her fist loosely to hit her palm. “Fire.”

“What?” That outburst had caught Phil’s attention, and he let his arms fall from where he had been reaching to grab a wide, stout cactus to echo Dan’s single word of surprise in unison with the other.

“I was thinking that Dan might be a fire type trainer. Perhaps, with a specialized dark moveset?” Sofie fingers uncurled before circling her chin as her other arm came across her stomach. “You seem protective so you could have a team with a high defense and a beast like Chandelure.”

“I can see that,” Phil prattled as he retraced the small distance he had travelled away from Sofie and Dan. “He could have an Arcanine. It’s a bulky supporter. Though,” Phil frowned slightly. “I had pictured him as a psychic trainer.”

“That’s not something I had considered,” Sofie acknowledged Phil’s typing with a contemplative squint, nibbling on her lip. “It’s possible.”

A series of chirps interrupted their conversation, and Sofie coughed as her cheeks grew hotter once more. She reached into her pocket and glanced at the mobile briefly before sighing and muttering,

“What horrible timing.” before raising her voice to an audible level with a disappointed sigh: “I got to go…”

“That’s okay,” Phil comforted before offering kindly, “You can stop by anytime, Sofie.” Phil pointed to Dan, eyes seeming to glow as he stage whispered: “I’m sure Dan needs a hug.”

Dan rolled his eyes at Phil good-naturedly before nodding at Sofie who froze at the suggestion, letting her slowly tread into his open arms with a springy step. He chuckled as he hugged her a bit tighter. “It was nice to meet you. Thanks for stopping by.”

Phil reached for Dan’s abandoned camera, and if you asked Dan later, he would almost swear that there was a tentative gossamer of tenderness swimming in those eyes as the equipment was carried with diligent care to the passenger seat.

(Or maybe he was projecting. Just a tiny bit.)

@danisnotonfire tweeted: i know i know i promised a video on friday. i’m working on it! here’s something: check out @pocketPHILofsunshine for your flowery needs.

October 7 3:27pm

@crabstickz retweeted: @danisnotonfire @pocketPHILofsunshine Eyyy. Getting that promo huh? Does this mean you will be online more? Can we collab?!

October 7 9:13pm

@LouisePentland retweeted: @pocketPHILofsunshine @danisnotonfire Definitely jumping on this train. Perhaps you recognize this face everyone?

October 8 8:04am

@RuthineHayes retweeted: Thank you @pocketPHILofsunshine… our carpet has never been more wet since the flowers have arrived.

October 8 11:11am

“I hate you.” is the greeting Dan gets the next day when he strolls up to where Phil is laying on his back, panting. His arms are streaked with dirt, and his chest is rising and falling with exertion as he smears away the sweat that has made its way past his headband.

“Because I’m late?” Dan dropped next to Phil to sit beside him, stretching his legs out.

“That and…” Phil wheezed, tapping his pocket where Dan could make out the edges of his phone. “Do you know what kind of uproar your tweet caused? I’ve gotten phone calls from at least seven people about it.”

“I thought promos were a good thing?” Dan murmured, kicking his heels slowly, watching the dirt shift under the sole of his shoe and travel up the sides. “I can delete it if you want?”

He doesn’t confess: I wanted to show people what they are missing. You should be noticed.

“Nah.” Phil’s fingers prodded his thigh lightly since he hadn’t moved from his position. “It’s fine. The last tweet on that account was a while back though.”

“Was it?” Dan hadn’t gotten a chance to browse the account but he made a mental note to do so when he returned home.

“Yeah,” Phil mumbled, eyelashes dark against his pale skin as he closed his eyes.

They sat in a comfortable silence as Phil’s breath evolved from harsh, whistling gasps to an even, steady flow. Dan pulled his left knee up to wrap his arms around it, taking in how the leaves of the plants adjusted to the changes in the wind and the crunching of fallen leaves as a jogger passed them by.

“I feel like an idiot.” Dan began with a hint of wry humor, and Phil’s eyelids raised unhurriedly.

“Why?”

“I didn’t realize that when you talked about Louise and Chris that you meant Sprinkle of Glitter and Crabstickz.”

“Oh. Is that a problem?”

“Not at all but…”

There was another moment of silence but this one wobbled heavily on their shoulders. Dan brought his other knee up to support his chin. He could still feel the slight pressure of Phil’s fingertips through his jeans, heating up his skin.

Why do you look so tired, Phil?

Are you tired?

Dan couldn’t speak through the nervous lump in his throat.

“Phil...why haven’t you tweeted in awhile?”

“I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“Okay. That’s okay.”

Dan can’t explain the emptiness echoing in the chambers of his heart as Phil’s fingers leave their spot on his thigh...all he knows is that it hurts.

He checks @pocketPHILofsunshine later that night.

@pocketPHILofsunshine tweeted: The flower truck is up and moving again but back in London indefinitely!

2 years ago

@flowersfyeah replied: Aw! Sorry to see you go. Will you ever come back to Luxembourg?

2 years ago

@pocketPHILofsunshine replied: I will make trips up there periodically but not sure if I’ll be taking orders when I am up there.

2 years ago

@flowersfyeah: I understand. Give yourself time and space. Take care of yourself.

2 years ago

Dan brings a hand to clutch at the front of his dark shirt as he lets out a strangled whimper.

What happened to Phil two years ago?

They don’t talk about it.

Dan doesn’t ask even as the words throw themselves against his teeth because he knows that Phil doesn’t want to and he’s scared, if he’s being honest.

Phil doesn’t bat an eye.

He still smiles at Dan when he trudges up the path at seven in the morning but there’s a light shadow of purple under his muddy watercolour eyes. It takes Dan going straight to the mixed Zinnias and toppling over their huge pot, spilling a good amount of soil, for Phil to let out the softest of laughs as he hands Dan his gloves.

“We need to put this soil back and make them more comfortable.”

His hand had just gotten to the uncomfortable side of warm as he handed Phil the Starbucks cup. Phil immediately encircled it with both hands and a deep contented noise. Dan raised his own cup to his lips before gagging on the coffee as Phil wedged his nose between his thumb and pointer finger.

“Dan? Are you okay?” Phil set his untouched pumpkin spiced latte on the table before slapping Dan on the back in short bursts. “Does your coffee not taste good?”

“What the actual fuck, Phil?” Dan choked, the honeyed scent of caramel clinging to his nose. His eyes were watering but he had managed to not drop his caramel macchiato.

Thank you for small miracles.

“What?” Phil inquired, clueless to his part in Dan’s near death experience.

“Why would you…” Dan spulttered. He mimicked Phil’s earlier actions, pressing his own nose between his fingers.

“My nose was cold!” Phil defended immediately, his hand leaving Dan’s back to push against his side playfully. “And,” He scooped his cup up to take a deep breath from the small slit for sipping. “It smells like fall.”

“It’s November,” Dan scoffed, nudging Phil’s ankle half-heartedly with the front of his shoe. “I think it’s safe to say that it’s fall.” He swirled his drink absentmindedly.

“What did you get?” Phil pushed his head against Dan’s arm to sniff at his coffee like a curious puppy before his tongue made its appearance with his gleeful, “Nevermind! I know!” He swiped the paper fiber and polyethylene receptacle from Dan’s grip to replace it with his own. “C’mon, Dan. It’s the festive season- try something new!”

Dan regarded the latte with an exaggerated lift to his upper lip and wrinkles screwing up his nose as he sniffed at it with mock unease.

The apples of Phil’s cheeks hoisted higher even as he attempted to shoot Dan an unimpressed look.

He failed but Dan squeaked as Phil’s lips touched his caramel macchiato, tipping his head back to take a mouthful.

“Hey!”

Phil smacked his lips together before remarking, “You can’t go wrong with a Caramel Macchiato.”

Dan observed the way Phil’s eyebrows arched in a silent challenge, and he didn’t break eye contact as he took a swig of the Pumpkin Spice latte. It skated across his tastebuds pleasantly and Dan let out a moan of appreciation.

A tinge that resembled the carnations Phil had been talking to before their coffee break dusted the tips of his ears and across the arch of his cheeks.

“Da--”

“Lester? Is that you?”

Phil straightened immediately, a tiny, strained smile marring his lips, as he turned to face the owner of the raucous, husky voice. He tightened his grip on Dan’s drink before his feet started to move to the man with flaxen hair and sharp grey eyes.

“Alex?” Phil breathed, and Dan’s nails dug into his palm at the unguarded, bewildered confusion in those eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I agreed to help with one of the animal hospitals in London. Apparently, their nurse bailed because of some personal issues,” Alex informed Phil, and Dan felt his blood start to rush through his veins faster as Phil was clapped on the shoulder none too gently. Dan fought to keep his expression in a semblance of friendliness as those eyes scanned him up and down. “I saw that the Twitter was more active. I didn’t think you would take that up- you being more interested in videos and all.”

“I am friends with YouTubers.” Phil’s voice was unbending with unrepentance even as he regarded Alex with mild exasperation. “I have been in several of their videos. You know that.”

“I do.” There was something to the saccharine tone that had Dan’s jaw clenching, and he made his way closer, stopping at the table where the metal box that served as Phil’s cash holder rested. Alex crossed an arm across his chest to rub at his left shoulder. “I never understood why Aiden encouraged you to be in those.”

Phil’s head jerked back as if he had been slapped, teeth clicking harshly as they came together.

Dan let Phil’s drink tumble from his hand, a low growl rumbling from deep in his chest. He ignored the liquid travelling across the wood as he took a step forward.

I won’t let you hurt him. I won’t, I won’t, I won’t.

“Aiden always said, ‘You’re an entertainer.’-” Phil lowered his face, neck exposed to Alex’s gaze, and Dan could see the way the words were wrenched from a place that was hidden from his own eyes (and oh, how that made the stone walls of his heart crumble and disintegrate to dust). “He wanted me to take opportunities that I wouldn’t otherwise. Remember how he gave me a lap dance for my twenty-first? Even though he was already feeling the effects?”

“He fell on you and laughed it off…” Alex squeezed his shoulder tighter and he let out a ghost of a laugh- brittle and acidic. “You were buzzing but you were still fussing over him and oh, you guys were gross-”

The water streaming down Alex’s face took Dan by surprise and stilled the slow advancement that he had been making, but what threw him off-kilter was Phil’s consoling smile and outstretched arms.

He hurt you. Don’t let him close to you.

I will protect you.

Alex rushed to take solace in Phil’s tight hug and there was smoke climbing up his esophagus and he was being smothered and-

Dan came to himself as he knocked Alex away and wedged himself between the two men with a dangerously sonorous and scathing, “You don’t get to come here and hurt Phil and then have the audacity to hug him. Fuck off.”

Alex smeared the wetness on his cheeks with his palms as Dan’s eyes shot daggers at him. Cautious and curious calculating grey eyes darted to Phil who was wrapping his fingers around the fuming brunette’s bicep firmly.

“Daniel!” Phil snapped, tightening his grip as Dan spread his feet under Alex’s scrutiny. “Alexander is a friend of--”

“A friend, Phil? Really?” He spat, feeling his nails skim his palm as he flexed his fingers restlessly. “He comes here and--” Dan pushed forward as Alex slapped his palms against his trousers and pressed a tiny bit closer to Phil.

“Dan, I’m fine--”

“I have to say I’m impressed by your new boyfriend.” Alex’s eyes were somehow softer as he tilted his head where Phil was visible behind Dan’s shoulder. “Getting in a fight for you when he’s a public figure.”

Dan didn’t register the taunt for the light banter that it was, but his arm was suddenly not burdened by extra weight. He reared back at the assumption, a comfortable toastiness mingling with the whirlwind of rage scorching his blood.

I should tell him that we’re not together.

Ruth and I are…

Dan narrowed his eyes at Alex but his mouth remained stubbornly shut as his own mind rasped:

But you like that he assumed, don’t you?

“He’s not my boyfriend, Alex!” Phil exploded, manhandling Dan out of the way so he could properly glare at his friend. His shoulders squared as he smacked Alex roughly on his chest with an open palm. “You asshole!” The outrage in Phil’s voice was overshadowed by the way his voice cracked, and he pressed his forehead against the back of his hand, breathing heavily.

“He’s not?” Alex’s palms hovered over Phil’s shaking shoulders before they landed and crushed Phil to him. “Shit. I…”

“...were meddling like you always do,” Phil sniffled, and Dan ached to reach out to pull him away into his own arms but he could do nothing as Alex let out a long, audible whoosh, making the hair pushed behind Phil’s ear ruffle. “I get it.”

“You don’t.”

Dan couldn’t stand by anymore and he marched over to Phil. The knitting of his jumper compressed as Dan’s palm came to rest just under his shoulder blades. He tapped his fingers in an idle pattern, starting to drag the flat of his hand across Phil’s spine, as Alex mumbled,

“You and Aiden were supposed to be the first ones married, you know? He’s supposed to be here with you, and Phil, it’s been three years but you still look like the week after-” Phil’s single, broken wail had Dan jumping and Alex tightening his hold. Dan pleaded with Alex silently to stop, please, please but the blonde gave a small shake of his head before continuing determinedly, “He would kill me if I didn’t check on you while I was in town but then- I saw you...you were laughing and sharing--”

“Stop.” Phil sobbed, struggling against Alex’s embrace and jostling Dan’s hand as he did so. “Please. I can’t--”

“Phil,” Alex shushed him softly, and he tugged Phil forward as he drug his feet back until Dan was no longer touching him. “I think we need to talk...seriously.” He pivoted and Dan was met with the back of Alex’s dark blue scrubs, gritting his teeth to keep the venomous insults from leaping from his tongue at the isolating gesture. “In private.”

“Alex, I really don’t want to close up shop,” Phil argued, clearing his throat to dislodge the mucus clogging his voice. “It can wait.”

“Like therapy?” Alex retorted and Phil retreated from his loosened grasp, using the sleeve of his jumper to wipe away the wetness under his nose. Phil’s cheeks were blotchy and his lashes glittered in the sunlight as he raked his fingers through his fringe.

“Alex, you are my friend,” Phil began, shrugging his shoulder to get rid of the trails of salt water on his cheeks, before he crossed his tense arms over his chest. “-but we are not discussing this now. I have to work.”

Alex mimicked Phil’s defensive posture as he sneered, “You’re as stubborn as always. It’s going to be your downfall.”

“Maybe so,” Phil conceded before his lips turned up in one corner in a mockery of his playful cheekiness. “It is good to see you. Really.”

Alex’s head bobbed once before he stomped away from their little standoff, thumping Phil once in the shoulder with a mild hand. Phil watched him go and Dan couldn’t keep his eyes off of Phil who waited until it was quiet enough to hear the birds chirping from a tree a bit further in the park and the distant laughter of the children on the playground before he sucked in air slowly through his nose.

Dan watched the way his chest rose with the action, how his eyes dimmed and flickered like a lightbulb about to go out, while Phil pinched the bridge of his nose as he let out a long exhale. He seemed to deflate along with his lungs- shoulders jumping up to his ears, spine curving outwards so he didn’t take up as much space before he opened his mouth.

“Sorry about him,” Phil apologized sheepishly, scrubbing his fingers through his hair to make his fringe flop into its normal position. “Alex can be...intense.”

“It’s okay,” Dan reassured absentmindedly, tugging the cuffs of his jumper over his hands while he chewed his bottom lip. “I probably didn’t make the best first impression myself.”

“He means well,” Phil explained, twiddling his feet with jittery movements. “I’m sure he knows you did, too.”

Phil’s stuttering breaths mixed with the rustling of the wind and Dan shoved his covered hands deep in his jean pockets.

“Phil?”

“Dan?” Phil wasn’t looking at him, focusing on the way his feet drug through the dirt, how a tiny cloud of particles would pop up before raining on his shoes.

“Who’s Aiden?”

It took Phil a long moment to answer, burrowing his own hands in his trousers in that strange but endearing way Dan had noticed. His tongue swept across his lower lip before his warm breath ghosted over it in a sharp exhale.

“He was my boyfriend.”

“What happened to him?”

Dan’s heart thumped violently against the bones that encased it while the sound of his blood rushed through his ears. Phil didn’t say anything for many thundering, earth shattering heartbeats.

Phil lost the fight to keep himself together, bringing his palms to press against his cheeks as the curtain of salt water overlaying his irises overflowed once more. This wasn’t the body wracking sobs that Alex had caused with his visit but a soundless cry with droplets pooling in the crevices of his fingers.

“He died.” Phil couldn’t even muster the strength to fully engage his vocal cords but Dan heard.

Dan went to his florist, hands hovering over him uncertainly.

What can I possibly say to that?

What could anyone possibly say?

“Can I hug you?” Dan whispered and Phil nodded, head still buried in his hands.

It’s something at least.

Dan enveloped Phil. He circled his arms around Phil’s waist, pulling him as close to him as he possibly could. Phil let his hands drop to wind around Dan’s neck as if he was the only thing grounding him in this moment where he couldn’t force that glittering broken glass smile.

Dan could only hold on tighter as Phil hid his face in the juncture of his neck and cried those horrible silent tears, murmuring, “I’m here.” over and over again.

@pocketPHILofsunshine: Making an impromptu trip to Luxembourg. I will be taking a limited amount of deliveries. Should be back in London the first week of December

November 9 4:48am

@pocketPHILofsunshine: Check the website for more details and specific areas! :) (Link)

November 9 4:49am

From: Phil

Lou has been asking me for your number. Would you mind if I gave it to her?

November 11 2:21pm

From: Dan

what for?

November 11 2:25pm

From: Phil

She said something about a collab? I don’t know. She seems determined.

November 11 2:39pm

From: Dan

ooo i’m scared. go ahead.

November 11 2:43pm

From: Phil

I’ll tell her to be nice! Thanks Danny!

November 11 2:50pm

From: Louise

Daniel Howell.

November 12 8am

From: Dan

Hello to u too. some of us like to sleep until a decent hour.

November 12 1:17pm

From: Louise

Seriously? It’s the afternoon!

November 12 1:37pm

From: Dan

not for everyone. phil said u wanted to collab?

November 12 1:40pm

From: Louise

Actually, I would like to speak to you in person.

November 12 1:43pm

From: Dan

about what exactly?

November 12 2pm

From: Louise

Phil. It’s important.

November 12 2:01pm

From: Dan

when are u free?

November 12 2:02pm

“Dan, you’ll be fine.” Ruth assured him as they stood outside the glass doors of the London YouTube space. She had her pinkie hooked through his own loosely and Dan released it to take a shuddering breath, combing a few hairs of his fringe into place. “It’s not like she’s some shady serial killer, babe, seriously.”

“I know,” Dan groaned, turning to Ruthie. Her shoulder length hair had been swept into a brown clip primly, and her lips were painted a ruby red. Dan took a moment to take a breath before bumping the back of her hand with his. “It’s just nerve wracking. I stayed up to watch her videos to get a sense of how she is, but you can only see so much through a camera lens and a couple of minutes…”

“You said she wanted to collab with you- I don’t think there is anything to worry about.” Ruth wrapped a hand around the upper portion of his arm to kiss him lightly on the cheek. “Besides, I’m sure Phil is fine. She probably wants to see if you three can do a video together!”

“He died.”

Moisture coated his skin as Phil shivered in his embrace, and the pain of having an extensive vocabulary but with no words at his disposal to make the pain go away…

All Dan could do was sway as he held him and hope that it was helping. Even if it was an insignificant amount.

“I’m fine.” Phil lifted his head after a while with swollen eyes and snot slicked lips, and Dan had to sit there and watch as those eyes closed before, after a trembling breath, Phil gave him a tiny tremulous smile. “Sorry about your jumper.”

“...yeah,” Dan agreed, trying to hide his doubtfulness at Ruth’s reassurance. “I’m sure that’s it.”

Ruth’s fingers gave a gentle squeeze before she stepped back, straightening the cuffs of the grey pinstripe suit jacket she was wearing. She raised up finger guns and clicked her tongue as her heels clacked on the pavement noisily as she backed away from him.

“You’ll be fine!”

Dan smiled but his dimple was shallow and Ruth wiggled her fluttering fingers in a wave before she wheeled around to continue to the filming location she needed to be at.

Dan took a deep breath and rested his hand on the handle.

I can do this.

He opened the door and entered the lobby, relaxing slightly at the familiar atmosphere, as he made his way to the office spaces. Since it would only be him and Louise, it wouldn’t make sense to use one of the large conference rooms. The offices were smaller- they would give the two of them privacy.

That didn’t ease his nerves one bit because that meant that there was less room for escape and his fight or flight response was already activated. His heart was thrumming chaotically and his palms were shaking slightly, but he could do this. He had stood on a stage at VidCon with an innumerable amount of eyes on him, clutching a faulty microphone, as he answered questions, and he had survived.

Besides…

It’s about Phil.

Louise was sitting on a plush blue couch, legs crossed delicately at her ankles. The top portion of her hair was pinned to the back of her head with large ringlets resting on her shoulders. She had a large pink porcelain mug nestled in her lap as she laughed at something Chris was saying.

What’s he doing here?!

“Dan!” Louise greeted, standing at his approach, smoothing down her dark dress after she set the mug down on the glass top of the modern-style coffee table. “Thank you for coming.”

“It’s no problem,” Dan slipped into his professional voice, following Louise’s lead. “It’s nice to finally meet you, officially.”

“Likewise,” Louise affirmed before dipping her head at where Chris was seated beside her. “It’s time for you to go, Chris, darling.” Her eyes didn’t have any crinkles to suggest that she was upset but the slight tautness in the inflection of her words left no room for argument.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going,” Chris laughed as he pushed himself off the couch with his arm. “Go easy on him, Lou.”

“You’re one to talk,” Louise snorted, slapping Chris with moderate force against his shoulder. “You were being a prat at the meeting,” She chastised, and Chris made a show of rubbing the ‘injured’ area, pouting childishly. “Come on now, off you go.”

Dan couldn’t help but smile at the display of Chris and Louise’s playfully antagonistic friendship. It grew as Chris made a spluttering noise by pressing his tongue and lips together at her.

Chris’ face dropped into a solemn expression a second later, and Dan’s delighted smile dissolved immediately at the change. Chris rested his fingertips on Louise’s forearm delicately.

“Just enough, Lou.” The words held an unspoken warning as well as a note of finality. “Phil would not be happy if you…”

If she what? Dan’s mind wondered.

“Of course,” Louise acknowledged, patting Chris’ fingers before he pulled away and waved enthusiastically at Dan before rushing away from them with quick, hasty footsteps.

It was just the two of them now, and Dan slid his hands into the recesses of his pockets to conceal their now noticeable trembling. Louise didn’t seem much better as she flipped the ends of her hair with her thumb before sighing, motioning to the blue armchair beside the couch.

“I’m not going to bite you, Dan. I just want to talk.”

“You know,” Dan stammered as his legs carried him stiffly to the chair. His hands remerged to grip the edge of both armrests as he fell into it. “I told Phil I was scared of you. I was joking at first but now, I’m properly terrified.” He managed a strained chuckle.

“I know...he made me promise that I wouldn’t give you the third degree,” Louise commented, lips pulling up in the corners a small fraction. “He’s very fond of you, you know.” The miniscule smile that had appeared fell away and she clasped her hands in her lap. “Which is why we need to have this talk.”

Dan rocked onto his left hip then his right, recalling how he used to do the exact same thing when he was a child and his mother was scolding him. He nibbled his lip- catching a dry piece with his tooth, pulling until it stung and a coppery scent invaded his nose.

What would Phil not be happy about you telling me?

The question sat heavy on the flat of his tongue like a fat cat lazing in the sun and he could feel the curve of the letters skimming his teeth like gentle scrapes of sheathed claws. He swallowed before reclining against the back of his chair.

“If Phil hasn’t complained about me, what is the problem?” Dan challenged weakly, bringing his fingers to his mouth to camouflage the tiny bead of blood that he knew was there.

“You made a vlog, recently,” Louise interjected, unclasping her hands to drum her fingers against her knee. “A Day in the Life?”

“Yes?” Dan confirmed with a questioning lilt, unsure why his sporadic vlogging was relevant to the conversation.

“With Phil.” Louise prompted, leaning forward slightly.

Oh.

Dan resisted the urge to press deeper into the cushion supporting his spine.

“Yes?” He repeated, uncertainly.

“When you edited the footage,” Louise continued casually, plucking her drink from the table to take a sip. “Did anything stand out to you?” Dan blinked slowly at her, not trusting himself to speak, and Louise continued as she dropped the mug from her lips. “Because some of those jump cuts are not as neat as they can be.”

“It happens,” Dan countered petulantly, frowning at the unintentional subtle jab to his editing skills.

“There has to be a reason,” Louise retorted with a single arched brow. “Your recent videos are clean cut. You’ve definitely improved since you started so why the sudden choppiness?”

Dan rolled his lips together, hissing inaudibly at the rawness of the throbbing split from his earlier biting, as he resisted the urge to confirm Louise’s suspicions right away.

It was true. He had chopped the footage a bit messily because there were split second frames of Phil’s slightly drooped shoulders and the turmoil that Dan could only imagine the depth of evident in the worn down sheen covering his gaze. When he had been sitting at his computer with his headphones covering his ears… he had known that he couldn’t leave those snippets in, those moments that exposed the cracks in Phil’s armor, to be witnessed and commented on by semi-anonymous users on a video sharing site because it was Dan’s career choice.

Phil hadn’t agreed to be studied by his (sometimes) overly observant fans, and he certainly didn’t agree to the negative commentary that inevitably popped up on every video.

So, he had cut out Phil’s soft, “My partner did.” but that skip was glaringly obvious in the final product.

Maybe it drew more attention to the other snips I did.

It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t need to know your reasoning.

Dan wiggled so he was sitting closer to the edge of the seat, unwilling to admit anything to Louise.

I know I did the right thing.

Even if she was Phil’s friend (and hadn’t been unreasonable so far), he didn’t have any reason to trust her with his thoughts.

Louise surprised him. She didn’t try to cajole him into responding or snark at his stubborn tenacity to not answer her question. Instead, she gave him a lenient, patient smile before she took a deep breath, her nails making a low tink-tink-tink against the porcelain still resting in her hands.

“Phil mentioned that you know about Aiden, so...” Dan’s jolted upright swiftly and ignored the way his vertebrae popped in several places, interested in the name he had heard a handful of times. His eyes followed Louise’s gaze as it dropped to her lap. A faint unhappy note buzzed through the air before she sighed, “Let me tell you a story.”

Dan lips quirked upwards as the tentative light-hearted tease jumped from the tip of his tongue, “Story time?”

“Hush, you.” Louise giggled once before she let herself sink into the cushions, the tapping of her nails ceasing. “I met Phil purely by chance. He and Aiden were in London to look at the Uni here around the time we moved down. They had decided to bring the van to try and sell a couple of bouquets.”

“Phil’s been doing the flower thing for that long?” Dan chortled, bringing a hand to his temple. “I can’t say I’m not surprised.”

“It wasn’t a proper business then. It was a side project,” Louise supplied with a tone that belied her soft spot for An Array of Sunshine and its owners. “Or so, Phil insisted.”

“Right.” Dan’s skepticism of Phil’s past self permeated the way his lips moved with the syllables of the single word. “A side project. Go on.”

“So, I met them both. Aiden was not what you would expect-” Louise brought a hand to cover her mouth as she pulsated with remembered merriment. “He was always dipping his toes in new experiences. It would drive Phil up the wall but,” She angled her head as she pinned Dan with light eyes devoid of any deceit and glimmering with quiet sympathy. “Aiden was so sweet with Phil. He adored him. And Phil…”

I don’t know if I want to hear this.

Dan let backbone curve as his body slid lower in his seat.

“Phil loved that boy, Dan,” Louise told him compassionately, setting her mug on the table, before she rested her hand lightly on his forearm. “When Aiden was diagnosed, he went straight to his advisor to change his face to face lectures to online courses.”

“What…” Dan began, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “...was Aiden’s condition?”

Louise hesitated a moment, fingers compressing his skin before relaxing. Her front teeth sunk into her lower lip as she seemed to come to a decision. “Have you heard of Lou Gehrig’s disease?”

“Um-” Dan hedged, moving his arm to dislodge Louise’s grasp, before he admitted. “No.”

“That’s alright. It’s a motor neuron disease that causes the muscles to weaken and atrophy,” Louise explained easily, running a finger around the shell of her ear to make sure her hair was held away from her face. “Eventually, people can lose use of their arms and legs.” Louise’s voice dropped as she continued, “That’s part of the reason Aiden went to the doctor. He was struggling with using the tools at work.”

Dan’s head swam with this information as he tried to imagine operating without being able to manipulate things with his hands or not being able to stroll about his flat like he did at times. It was a difficult concept to grasp, and he wondered how he would have taken it if he had been the one to receive the news.

Or, been the one who had to see his significant other being told the news.

Aiden had to tell Phil. How could he possibly have done that?

“Why are you telling me this?” Dan managed through his constricted airways. “Chris said, ‘Just enough.’ before he left...is this…” He jerked his hand outwards to Louise before bringing it stiffly to himself. “Is this what he meant? Is this enough or too much?” A realization streaked across his mind in a blaze after he said Chris’ name. “Is Phil not going to be happy you told me?”

“No, no,” Louise pacified him calmly as she stood to pace in the space at the other end of the coffee table. “Aiden’s diagnosis isn’t a secret, Dan. Chris was referring to something else entirely.”

Like what? Dan wanted to demand but there was a painful knot twisting in his throat and a heavy weight on his chest as Louise took a couple of steps forward to turn and repeat in the opposite direction.

“Why are you telling me this?” Dan repeated because he couldn’t think of anything else to say, rubbing at the base of his throat over the divot where his collarbones met his sternum.

“Because you vlogged with Phil,” Louise blurted out, stopping her nervous movement to hold out her upward facing palms. “Phil is still struggling with Aiden’s death, Dan. It’s been three years but they grew up together and it can take years -” Louise stressed, hands waving wildly as her words gained speed. “It is taking years for him to grieve, and he’s still pretending he’s okay and you go and shove a camera-”

“I didn’t know.” The burning, pricking sensation in the corner both of his eyes had him grinding a balled fist into his right one, inhaling through his nose gruffly. He leaned on it. “I didn’t know.”

Louise’s anger melted instantly with his whispered words and she sighed, dragging her feet on the carpet until she was standing in front of him.

“I know,” She mumbled before leaning down to clutch his shoulders. “I just don’t think Phil should be exposed to the craziness that is your comment section. Have you read some of them?”

“I haven’t been on much,” Dan confessed with a sniffle. “Ruthie and I have been spending time together since she’s been filming and I’ve been working on some new skits…”

And missing Phil. He adds to himself as Louise’s eyes flickered to the cheek Ruth had kissed before they had parted ways with a troubled downward twist of her lips.

“You should. Your fanbase has some...interesting things to say.”

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#Phandom Reverse Bang 2017 #PRB 2017 #Phan #Phanfiction #Florist! Phil #YouTuber! Dan #Kat's writing #Ambrose's writing

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