#this is what i get for insisting i put links to everything in this post

[cleolinda]

AITA for banning my husband and father in law from the delivery room due to their intensely stressful/creepy behavior during my pregnancy?

There’s a famous Reddit post from 2020 where a pregnant woman wrote that her husband and father-in-law were a little too comfortable with their certainty that she was absolutely going to die in childbirth just like her husband’s late mother. It was to the point where her FIL was insisting that she go ahead and put all her clothes into storage, because she was obviously going to die in the hospital and it would save them the grief of packing up her things afterwards. Like. It was WILD.

When I tell my husband [that she feels suspicious of her FIL], he calls me paranoid, but I feel like my FIL WANTS me to die; his whole life identity for the past 35 years has been “amazing single dad” (never dated or had close friends or even hobbies really), and it seems like he’s looking forward to being able to guide my husband through what he went through. At this point, I’d honestly be happy to never see my FIL again, and I certainly don’t want him in the delivery room, especially since he told me he was “putting [his] foot down” about me not being “allowed” to have an epidural…. My husband, in addition to backing his dad on everything, acts like my due date is my death date, and has completely pulled away from me.

The commenters (and me, honestly) were convinced that the husband and FIL were either going to kill her outright to fulfill this expectation, or just make decisions about her care that might conveniently let her die.

And then she never posted again.

Over the last four years, people have frequently mentioned that post, always leading to a thread of people saying, “Oh god, I still worry about that woman.” I did too. It became one of those famous unresolved posts that people always wondered about.

Until yesterday, when someone on r/BestOfRedditorUpdates dug up a 2022 update she had posted on a different account:

TLDR; I had a beautiful and healthy baby girl, and I divorced my ex-husband. I lived, obviously.

She writes that she put her foot down about having her own mother in the delivery room rather than her FIL (!), and she WOULD be getting an epidural. Her husband lost his shit. And in his outburst, he let slip--

I admittedly lost my temper, and told him that I wasn’t going to die- it wasn’t my fault his father’s trauma wormed it’s way into his head, and that he needed to fix it without taking it out on me. He yelled at me that he didn’t need therapy. That caught me a little off guard; I asked him why he went to his therapist and was given advice about my death if he felt he didn’t need it. His expression gave it away, and he caved not long after. It turns out there was no therapist. It was just his dad. During the times he was supposed to be at therapy, he was with his dad. I’m still fuming.

And that was when she got the fuck out.

I’ll wrap this up- I’ve got an adorable little toddler tugging at my leg atm. I’m alive, I’m happy, and I’ve got my baby in my arms. Life is good.

I truly never thought we'd see a resolution to this, and I feel like there's probably a good number of people who remember it, so I thought you might want to know.

ETA: Brilliantly, I put the link in at the top; here it is again for convenience.

[buckysegan]

With all my gratitude, hope and returned adoration - Part Two

Summary: John writes back to his friend from home and we hear from our friend across the way. John x She. Word Count: 1.2k. A/N: we are def rolling with some historical inaccuracies in regards to letters here but sue me. he deserves it. pstttt also should we name her? do you all want to send me random john prompts. my baby isn't ok and i'm not ok. Part one linked here. Part three linked here.

John was sure he wasn't sweating a normal amount as he looked down at the piece of paper that Buck had offered him. It had taken two whole days of questions from the man for Bucky to even decide that he was going to reply. He’d been offered the hope, what more could he ask of her. Could he ask more? There had been a return address on the letter which Buck had insisted was there for a reason and she had opened herself out for a reply from him but the Major couldn’t help but be unsure.

It was an odd feeling for him, before the war he hadn't been unsure of anything and since he’d been here? Well he hadn’t been sober enough to doubt anything that he had done. These days though Bucky felt like he doubted every single thing. The thing was, he wasn't sure that he could afford to doubt this, to look past the life line that had been offered to him. Not when each day he could feel his mind draw a little further toward the edge no matter how much he or Buck tried to keep it in check.

With a sigh he pulled the pen into his hand, eyes locked on the page for a moment before he began to scrawl.

Dear Friend From Home 

You’re gunna have to forgive me because I ain’t going to be as good as this as you are. I’ve written so many letters this war you would think that I’d have gotten a handle on it by now but I find myself at a loss when it comes to what to say to you. 

I think the first thing I got to say is thank you. I don’t know if the words I can put on paper are ever going to really tell you how much your letter meant to me. See I was a certain type of man that didn’t think much to pen pals. I figured that I’d be ok, you know, that with my boys I’d have what I needed to make it through the hard days but watching the letters for everyone else roll in has been harder than I thought it might. 

There are things that I can’t tell you cause I don’t know who might read these letters, and where I am I can’t get you no picture but I can tell you that my favorite dish is a meat and potato pie, simple I know but really I’m a simple hearty kind of guy. What makes me laugh, you asked? That’s kind of simple for me too, just good company, myself sometimes, Buck, he’s my best friend, he makes me laugh a lot. What makes you laugh? I’d like to know that. 

May I know where you are? I know that might be a big ask but you said I could ask anything I know and if I get out of here…we get some leave, I’d like to know where I need to ask for me leave to be. Then I can show you what I sound and look like and know that in return. 

If this letter doesn’t reach you for a while, know you’ve been with me the whole time. 

With all my gratitude, hope and returned adoration

Major John Egan 

“What if she doesn’t get it?” He found himself questioning quietly to Buck as he handed over the letter to make it out of camp. His best friend settled him with a soft look, one that always made Bucky feel like he had some worldly knowledge the rest of them had missed out on, that assured him everything was going to be alright. “You just gotta have hope she will John, she’ll get it.” 

With a huff Bucky nodded, pulling his hat on as he watched his letter vanish from his view all together. “Alright well I can’t sit here and wonder, I’m off to play baseball or something.”

The letter that Bucky had so carefully handed over changed hands many more times, some fingers as rough as the pilots, some dirtier, some softer, but the last set of fingers to slide the letter from her post box had perfectly manicured fingers. Her flicking of her post was greedy as she looked for the same thing that she had every day since she’d posted her own letter.

At first, her hopes of finding what she was looking for had been unrealistic; she knew that, it hadn’t even been long enough for her letter to be received, let alone for him to get one back to her, then the other girls at the centre, they’d gotten letters back, notes, anything. That was when she had allowed her hope to return, for a moment at least. Days without anything had turned into weeks and then weeks had turned into months. Anything could have happened, that was what she tried to tell herself, he might not have gotten her letter, he might have thought it was weird and had chosen not to reply. That thought was enough to miff her, he could have at least said thank you. When she had decided no one could be that mean, her diminishing hope had turned to worry, what if he hadn't been able to receive her letter.

Flicking through each white envelope today, she almost missed it, how she didn't know because it was clearly different from the rest of them, maybe she hadn't wanted to look. "Not…" Trailing off she flicked back to the second to last letter, her eyes taking in the scrawling of her address, her eyes checking the postage before she was taring inside. "It's here, he wrote it's here." She called through the halls to the other girls that she lived with, all of which had been holding their breath with her. "Oh god I can't read it, what if he's telling me I was weird!" She cried, thrusting the unopened letter into the hands of her eager friend.

"Don't be dramatic, he's going to be throwing down his gratitude at you being a doll, you should have attached a picture with it I told you!" Meg beamed easily back at her, the same sense of reservation missing from her actions as she tore into the letter so that it could be read to the group. "Dear Friend From Home. You’re gunna have to forgive me because I ain’t going to be as good as this as you are. I’ve written so many letters this war you would think that I’d have gotten a handle on it by now but I find myself at a loss when it comes to what to say to you." That was enough, pulling the letter from Megs hands she was quick to scramble away from the group once more, locking herself into her room as re-read the opening line herself, the tears in her eyes only welling even further as she continued.

An ache in her chest formed as she read the words once more, taking in each strike of his pen where he had corrected himself or smudge from whatever he'd had on his fingers. The state of the letter was enough to make her wonder, but at least for now, she knew her friend was ok. He was alive, and he wanted to hear more from her. It couldn't have been normal, to feel this level of emotion for a man that she had never met, but she had found herself here regardless and in the middle of so much uncertainty, she wasn't going to question the pull she felt across the way to England.

Pushing from her bed she moved to her desk, paper pulled from her stationary pot, the quicker she could post this the quicker it could get to him.

"Dear Major Egan,

I'm delighted to hear I'm with you. I hope you know, that you've been with me too…"

[mydadleft471]

Cerulean Coast and Flower Crowns

Summary: Messmer takes you on a date to the Cerulean Coast. Fluff ensues.

This was a request from anonymous! I'll link the request here! I'm so sorry this took forever, I just started school again and the back half of my summer was NUTS. But this prompt was so cute I couldn't stop thinking about it, so I got home and busted it out. Thanks for the patience and the request anon!

Also, thank you guys for over 100 followers! I didn't realize I hit that until today, so thank you all so much! The support I get on here is insane, and it means everything to me. I love writing so much, and being able to share it with other people is so satisfying and gratifying!

As always, please enjoy and thank you all for following, reading, liking, commenting, and reblogging! I hope I'll be able to post again relatively soon because I love this man sm

A soft knock at the door slightly startled you.

“Just a minute!” You hollered, trying to finish your braids as quickly as possible. Ever since you had braided Messmer’s hair, he’s been trying to get you to match him. Wearing matching braids was a simple gesture, but to him, it was anything but. He’d yet to work up the courage to ask you to braid a lock of his hair in your own.

Securely tying your hair in place and giving yourself a glance in your vanity, you decided you looked good enough to answer the door. The embroidered gold collar on your red dress glimmered in the sunlight streaming through the nearby window. Whichever way you turned, you would seemingly glow. A set of polished ruby earrings and a matching necklace sat on the table before you. They were another gift from Messmer. He loved when you wore red. Perhaps it was something possessive, or maybe it was the fact that red was his color, so wearing it meant you were proud to be his. Whichever it was, you didn’t mind. You just enjoyed making him happy.

Standing from your chair, you hurry to the door and open it. Standing before you was Messmer himself. You notice that he’s not in his usual armor and cloak, but instead, he wears a ruby tunic with black pants. He looks simple, yet regal, all at once. His hair has yet to be braided, as he insisted that your braids look nicer. You think it’s just an excuse to have you do his hair, which you don’t mind.

“Hello, beloved.” You greet him with a blinding smile. “Would you like to come in?”

He nods and enters your room. The smell of vanilla wafts in the air pleasantly. You catch his eyes drifting over your dress. He seems to realize that he’s been staring at you, and looks away quickly. 

He clears his throat. “Red suits thee, it seemeth. Ne’er have I witnessed anyone as beautiful as thee, my consort.”

“You look wonderful as well, Messmer. What’s the occasion?” 

“I wish for thee to accompany me to the Cerulean Coast.” His face is red.

“For what, my love? Is there some pressing business to attend to there?”

“No.” He grabs your hand and straightens the matching gold ring on your middle finger. “I wish to take thee there. Nights ago thou had said something about the beauty of the Cerulean Coast.”

“Are you asking me on a date?” You cock your head at him.

“I- yes.” He seems like he’s trying to shrink away from your gaze.

“When did you want to go?”

“If today suits thee, then today. When thou’rt ready.” He squeezes your hand.

“Well, first I need to put on my jewelry. Then, I assume, you want me to braid your hair to match mine?”

“How well thou knowest me.” He gives you a shy smile.

“Come on, then.” You lead him over to your vanity and you sit down.

You reach for your ruby earrings and begin to put them in, but Messmer’s hand gently stops you. You shoot him a puzzled look. Did he not want you to wear these today?

“If I may, I would like to assist thee.”

You give him a small nod and hand him the earrings. They’re comically small in his palm. He leans down and slowly puts your earrings in, careful to not accidentally poke you. Once he finishes, he reaches for your necklace and stands behind you. He gently drapes it over your neck and adjusts any jewels that aren’t facing the right way, then clasps the ends together. He ghosts his hand over your neck and collarbones, making you shiver. 

“I adore thee in red.” You see him smile at you in the mirror. His eye glints possessively and your stomach does somersaults.

“Your turn.” You hop out of the seat and gesture for Messmer to sit, which he does.

You grab your brush and begin to part his hair down the middle, brushing it so it’s silky and smooth. Taking three small strands of hair, you begin an intricate braid. When you finish with the first one, you wordlessly pass it to him to hold, which he does. He’s gotten used to your silent cues when doing his hair. You begin the left braid next, shaping it into a half-moon, soon to be joined together with the other braid. It’s a very simple hairstyle, yet it is Messmer’s favorite. 

Tying the ends together, you lean over and give Messmer a quick peck on the cheek to tell him you’re finished. His face reddens and he gives you a bashful smile. Even after all this time, he still flusters from the simplest of gestures.

He stands from your vanity chair and gently grabs your hand. He brings it up to his mouth and places a delicate kiss on your knuckles.

“Will the Keep be okay while we’re away?”

He nods and squeezes your hand. “Fear not, beloved. I have left Gaius in command. We shall return by sunset.” 

It seemed like he already had everything planned for the day.

He leads you, arm-in-arm, down the stairs and hallways you’ve started calling home, and servants bow their heads in greeting as you pass. One of Messmer’s serpents winds around your waist and the other perches on your shoulder. They relax against you, comforted by your warmth.

Messmer shakes his head. “Fickle creatures they are. But I cannot fault them for preferring thee.”

“They’ve only been with you for the entire duration of your life. They can’t be tired of you.” The serpents hiss and wind around you tighter, making you and Messmer laugh.

Once you reach the gates to the Shadow Keep, Messmer signals to one of his guards. The heavy doors slowly open, revealing the vast plains of Scadu Altus. The breeze gently tousels your hair and you huff. Messmer gives you a small smile and tucks a wind whipped lock of hair behind your ear.

A knight approaches with Messmer’s horse and hands him the reins. He’d pulled away from you briefly to pet her. You’d seen her before, but you’d never dared to ride her. She’s a large, black horse with deep brown eyes. Her mane flows freely down her neck and she exudes power. She’s stubborn, but Messmer had rode her into many battles and came back unscathed. If he trusted her, so would you.

Messmer looks at you, standing timidly a few feet away. He gives you that gentle smile that only you get to see and approaches you.

“Have I told thee her name?”

“No,” you shake your head, ruby earrings gently knocking against your neck. “She’s beautiful, though.”

“She is called Belladonna. A fine horse she is.” She whinnies at his praise, stomping her hooves as if eager to go.

Messmer reaches out to you and you give him your hand. He slowly pulls you towards Belladonna and extends your hand to her. She sniffs you a few times and then butts her head against you.. Messmer laughs and you begin to stroke her mane, amazed at how silky it is.

“Thou needn’t worry; she is gentle. No harm will come to you with her, beloved.” You believe him as she nuzzles into your gentle pets and scratches. The tension you felt upon seeing her dissipated almost immediately.

“Come, consort mine.” He mounts and settles onto Belladonna easily, as if he’s done it a thousand times. He wraps an arm around your waist and hoists you up with assistance from his serpents. You settle with his stomach against your back, legs thrown over the side of the horse gracefully. 

“Wilt thou be alright?” Messmer secures you in between his arms, reins clutched in his hands.

“Just… don’t go very fast. Please?” Your stomach churns with anxiety being up so high. You also haven’t ridden a horse in what seemed like ages.

“Whatever thou wishest. We shalt go as slow as thou requires.” 

With a snap of the reins, Belladonna begins a slow trot. You thought you’d be jostled around more, but between the slow pace, the easy terrain, and Messmer’s form keeping you steady, you find yourself sighing and sitting back against your lover.

The trees are tinted gold as you ride past them, sunlight streaming in between the leaves. The grass sways in the gentle breeze and you admire the nearby wildlife as they prance carefree among themselves. You could imagine your surroundings in a painting. It was nice to be out in fresh air and away from the Shadow Keep, even if only for a little while.

Most of the trip is spent in silence apart from the gentle sounds of Belladonna’s hooves against the dirt and the occasional chirp from a bird nesting overhead. Eventually, the golden grass yields to a field of cerulean flowers. They seem to glow as they are guided to and fro by the wind. You wonder if they are magic, perhaps related to the Carian royal family?

“I have forgotten the beauty of this place.” Messmer’s quiet voice plucks you from your thoughts.

You turn your head to look back at him. He smiles down at you and presses a light kiss to your forehead. You hum in response.

“I’ve only been here once. I was fighting through it, so I really couldn’t stop and enjoy the scenery.”

“Since thou hast expressed thy interest in returning here, I requested that my knights clear this place of any who would pose a threat to thee.”

“You did that for me?”

“Of course,” he responds calmly. “Thy safety remains a priority of mine.”

“Thank you, Messmer.” 

“Gratitude is not necessary, beloved.” 

Belladonna stops at a sparkling coast with deep blue water. Messmer dismounts, then assists you off the horse. Bending down, he offers you his arm, which you take gladly. He leads you towards the coast, the water rippling as it crashes over the sand. Flowers mimic the waves and sway in the breeze. You notice that there is a blanket sitting among the blue flowers with a basket. You look up at Messmer whose face is bright red.

“Did you plan this?” You ask incredulously.

“Certainly not alone. Rellana assisted me.” He lets go of your arm and sits on the blanket. You follow his movements.

“What could’ve possibly made you ask Rellana for help?” You giggle and adjust your dress.

“I wanted thee happy, but I was unsure of what to do. Thou requested to return to the Cerulean Coast and I wished to make the occasion special.” He toys with the blanket and avoids your gaze.

“What did Rellana tell you?”

“She instructed me to bring thou here for a picnic. I hope it is to thine liking.”

You move forwards and cup Messmer’s cheek in your palm. He gives you a bashful smile. “I love this. Thank you, my love.”

He exhales and kisses your palm, visibly relaxing. “When Rellana offered her advice, I held the belief that this would not suit thy tastes. I am glad I am wrong.”

“You worry too much.”

“I am aware, beloved.” He reaches over towards the basket and opens it. “I requested rowa fruit pastries be made for thee.”

Your mouth waters at the sweet smell drifting from the basket. Messmer hands you one and you carefully unwrap it and take a bite. It’s perfectly fluffy and sweet. You offer a bite to Messmer, and he shakes his head, not willing to take your treat away from you. You huff and refuse to budge. Rolling his eye, he takes a small bite and you smile, triumphant.

You finish your pastry and look out at the ocean. The crashing waves provide a soothing sound and you can practically feel Messmer’s tension burning away. His serpents nap on the soft blanket, curled into one another.

You lean forwards and pluck a glowing blue flower from the ground. The stems are long enough to weave together. Looking back at Messmer, you realize that this shade of blue would look perfect among his deep red locks.

“My love?” You call to him in a sing-song voice.

“Yes?” He knows you’re up to no good when you sound like that.

“Can you go gather some more flowers for me? I think 30 should be enough.”

“Thou wouldst have me pick flowers?” You understand where he’s coming from. As a hardened war veteran and powerful demigod, picking flowers was probably not on his list of things to do.

You shoot him a pleading look. “Please? For me?”

“Fine, but I shall never again hear the false notions that I do not love thee.”

“Thank you!” Even though he seems upset, you know he’s just faking. He could never be upset with you.

He gets up and gets to work gently plucking flowers from the ground. As most things are, they are comically small in his hands. You begin to gather some near you, stretching your arms to pick them. You create a small pile, delicately draping the flowers over one another without sullying the serene glow of the blue petals.

In a few minutes, Messmer returns to you holding a bundle of blue flowers. He sets them next to your pile and sits back down. You give him a quick peck on the lips and utter a quick ‘thank you,’ then begin weaving the stems together. You work on Messmer’s crown first, as his will take more flowers.

He watches your nimble fingers thread the flowers together. Your beautiful face pinches slightly in concentration, and you move strands of hair away from your face as you work. He moves closer to you and holds your hair away from your face, helping you work faster and more efficiently. The ruby earrings adorning your ears sparkle in the dim sunlight. He admires you and wonders how he ever got so lucky.

Soon, you finish his crown and present it triumphantly. He gives you a loving smile.

“For me, beloved?”

“Mhmm,” you say, placing it on his head. The blue glow creates a halo and compliments his red hair well. He looks stunningly handsome. 

“A consort is deserving of a crown.” He gestures to you.

“I’m making mine next.”

“Wouldst thou teach me how to make these crowns?” He scoots beside you.

Your eyes light up and you nod. Grabbing two flowers, you show him how to weave them together tightly, so they remain locked in place. He watches you work and when you hand him two more flowers, he does his best to mimic you. It is harder for him to tighten them, as his hands are much larger than yours, but he tries his best. Once he’s weaved them together, you tighten them.

With you watching and patiently helping him, he eventually creates a circular crown of bright blue flowers. 

“Aren’t they fun to make?” You beam up at him.

“Fun, yet frustrating for my hands are much larger than thy nimble ones. But I enjoyed making it. I had the most wondrous teacher.” His gold eye shimmers at you.

He lifts the crown and you lower your head. He places it delicately on your head and smooths your hair down. When you look up at him smiling, he finds himself marveling at your beauty. The Cerulean Coast pales in comparison to your sweet smile.

“Beautiful.” He breathes the word, in awe of you. He pulls you closer to him, pressing a loving kiss to your soft lips. He sighs, at peace once more, thanks to you. 

He’d have to remember to thank Rellana after this.

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part twenty-seven

summary: you were back in the capitol, and you would be damned if you didn't try your hardest to make it worthwhile.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.4k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: omg we're coming up on the end i could cry :') i finished writing everything and i feel like a shell of a person rn without this fic to plan and write, but i hope you guys are excited! there will be five more parts after this and then the epilogue, which brings me to some really exciting news!!

big news #1: i'm opening oneshot requests for this series!! my normal requests will remain closed but i'd love to see what you guys want for the more of this series! (link is here!)

big news #2: the end of this story is opening the doors to my third coryo series which I've been working on for a hot minute, and it'll be called requiem! (see the original request for it here to get the vibes before i post anything!)

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

The protests caught you off guard, more than anything.

It had only been two weeks since you started your classes and you were loving them, but you hated getting dropped off in the morning and picked up in the afternoon. You and Coryo could no longer eat lunch outside, and the previously full lecture halls you had occupied saw more and more students dropping out as people stood outside just to shout at you as you came and went from the school four days a week. To call you an animal, that you don't belong there, that you should be "put down" for crimes against the Capitol. What they were? You had no idea.

Suffice to say, parents were not happy that you were there.

Generally, Coryo said that people had loved you in the games. You were "harmless", and "sweet", you gave them someone to root for- but now that you were walking freely among them instead of being kept behind the bars at the zoo or trapped inside the arena awaiting your death, you were suddenly a threat.

"They... they think I'll hurt someone?" You sniff, watery eyes overflowing as you look at Coryo lying beside you in his bed.

He bites his tongue, nodding as he wipes away your tears with the hand he has resting just under your cheek on top of his pillow. "They're afraid. That's all, it's not because of anything you did."

"I won't." You cry. "I would never, you know that, right?"

"I know, love. I know that." He promises you quietly.

"I don't want people to be afraid of me. It's not fair to them... If they feel unsafe I should just drop out."

"You're not doing that." He insists with a slight shake of his head. "We'll figure it out. Okay? Don't worry about them."

You just nod softly, wiping your eyes as he pushes his arm under your neck. "C'mere." He mumbles rolling onto his back and you move closer, laying your head on his chest as he pulls you closer to his side.

Coryo did figure it out, for the most part, which is how you ended up standing in Capitol TV's studios, awaiting an interview with Lucky Flickerman, someone you definitely thought you would never see again after the games. You didn't know how Coryo did it, who he had to talk to in order to convince them to let you plead your case so publicly. Apparently, the Snow name came with more power than you knew.

"You're gonna do great, love." Coryo whispers to you. "Just be yourself, but remember what I said about your essay, right? Be honest, but think about how you word things. I know you can do it." He assures you quietly, hands resting on your shoulders.

You nod, giving him a hopeful smile. "Thank you."

"I'll be right here, I'm not going anywhere." These types of reassurances were becoming less and less necessary over the month you've been here, but still, you don't like it when he's far, and he doesn't like it when he doesn't know where you are. It worked nicely for you both.

"Miss Y/L/N, whenever you're ready." One of the crew directs you, pointing to the comfortable chair they had set up in front of a homey-looking backdrop. It was fake, but it was meant to look like you were in someone's house. The idea of it was confusing to you, but you supposed it was also unimportant. You had much bigger concerns.

"Thank you." You smile at them and give Coryo another quick nod before making your way over to the seat that they said was yours.

Coryo watches as you carefully brush your hands over the front of your dress, smoothing it as you sit down. You looked so elegant as you did it, if he didn't know better, it looked like the habits of the people you were now surrounded with were rubbing off on you quickly. He had watched you rehearse how you would carry yourself and how you would speak and act with Tigris just this morning, after she fit you into the dress she had made for the occasion. Clearly, you had been paying attention.

When you draw your hair from your back and over your shoulder so your meticulously styled curls wouldn't be crushed against the chair, Coryo thinks he might need to sit down. Especially so when you look back at him again, subtly waving at him with your hand from where they are placed in your lap. The dress Tigris had given to you was red- a deep red silky material that complimented the red of his coat and mimicked the shade of the Capitol's flag but still had you standing out on your own. Seeing the way that dress fit you and hugged your form in all the right ways even as you were sitting, he was sure he had never been more grateful to his cousin and her talents.

"Y/N, it's so good to see you again." Lucky smiles at you as he sits down across from you, adjusting the small device attached to his lapel as crew members come up to you and fasten the same thing to the front and back of your dress.

"You as well." You grin, trying the best you can to mask your nervousness.

"Are you ready? Do you need anything?" He asks and you shake your head.

"I am ready whenever you are." You confirm, looking around as some more lights flick on, bright in your eyes as the man behind the camera starts counting down.

You look over at Coryo one last time and he nods at you. It was just like your first interview all over again- you had to sell yourself to the people. To prove that you were worth trusting.

"My name is Lucretius "Lucky" Flickerman," You smile as he flips a coin up into the air. You've seen him do it before, but you still weren't sure how the trick worked. "Amateur magician and your host for everything interesting on Capitol TV, and today is certainly no exception. Today, I have a familiar face with me who I know you will all recognize as well, the Victor of the Tenth Annual Hunger Games, Miss Y/N Y/L/N." He looks over at you and you keep your eyes on him, certain that all cameras are watching you now.

"Y/N, I am so happy to have you back. How have you been?" Lucky asks you and you're already fighting off the need to fidget with your hands.

"I am very well." You smile at him. "How about yourself? It has been a while."

"I'm great, thank you! You know, I was not allowed to bet on the games, but anyone who was there can tell you that I predicted your win from the beginning. You certainly are something else."

"Oh, well thank you." You giggle. "Though, I can't fully be credited for my win. I have to thank the sponsors who allowed Coriolanus to send me food and water. That made all the difference in my game."

"Oh, most definitely." He agrees. "But you shouldn't deny your own role in that. Hiding in the vents, that was genius!" Lucky claps. "Truly, that was a jaw-dropping moment for all of us watching. I remember thinking 'wow, how did she think of that?' It was incredible!"

"Yes, well, I saw the grate and knew it was worth a try." You shrug, slightly laughing. "I had nothing to lose."

"Yes, well, I'm dying to know- what have you been up to the last few months? You went back to Twelve, and then what?"

"Oh! Yes, I did. I've been spending time with friends and family, I got a job at the local library, catching up on some reading, that sort of thing." You grin, glancing at Coryo for only a moment and he gestures for you to continue. "I got home and I really realized for the first time how much we should be appreciating everything we have- even out in the Districts where sometimes life is tough, it's key to remember how privileged we are to be alive. The games were truly eye-opening for me."

Coryo gives you a quick nod of approval, and you smile, training your view back on the man across from you.

"Yes, I agree. Live life to the fullest, that's what they say." You just nod at his response. "Which also begs the question, if you were happy back in Twelve, what brought you back to the Capitol?"

Let the lies begin.

"Well," You laugh nervously. "When I was given the opportunity to come here for the games back in July, I was so interested in everything. The people who I got to talk to, the things I got to see, it was all amazing and I was just dying for more."

"So you decided to come study at the university here, is what I've heard."

"Yes, exactly." You grin. "I just think that the Capitol has so much to offer as far as education goes, I am already learning so much and I am having so much fun doing it."

"So really, your focus is just on your education." He prompts you and you nod.

"Definitely, considering the course load I don't have time for much else, but that doesn't really bother me. Like I said, I just want to learn from the greatest minds in the nation. Even the other students, it's amazing! Everyone has earned their spot there and I can see why and all the work they have put in to be there. It's a privilege to study among them, and I am so grateful that I was given this chance."

"You say 'all the work that they put in to be there', but you didn't attend the academy, so how is it that you were admitted?"

"I filled out the same application that all the other students did, I went through all the same testing." You confirm, nodding at him. "Although," You laugh slightly. "I was only given one day to complete it all. I was locked away in my room working on it all night. I hardly had time to blink, it was tough."

"Wow!" Lucky laughs. "One day? I remember when I applied to the university, my application took months to get just right. You must have aced it all."

"I am very proud of the work I did to be admitted, yes." You smile.

"From what I hear, you should be." He agrees. "So, you're really not in it for the sake of making friends."

"Well, I certainly would love to, but it is not my priority." You nod. "But, if any of my classmates are watching, I promise I am good at proofreading and if you need a second set of eyes on your papers, I'm happy to help. I'd also love to have more people to discuss our readings with." You joke, looking into the camera for the first time.

Lucky laughs. "You've heard it here, everyone. Y/N's pitch to make some friends!"

"Yes, I suppose it was." You chuckle, smiling at him.

"Now on the topic of friends while we're getting to know you better," You tilt your head at him while he begins the question, unsure where it is going. "Back home, do you have a boyfriend? Surely he must be missing you."

"No, not at home..." You laugh, catching in the corner of your eye as Coryo shakes his head at you, his face flat of emotion. "I don't have a boyfriend. Again, that's really just not where my priorities lie at the moment. I've... I've had a very busy year, you could say." You explain hesitantly.

"Wow! A beautiful girl like you?" You laugh nervously at his response. "Capitol boys! She's smart, pretty, and single. Just saying." He says, raising his hands.

You knew his job today was to help you, to make you more likable and more normal, to humanize you, but it was still uncomfortable to hear. "Oh, please." You laugh nervously, waving a hand at him. "Like I said, I'm just here to learn. I'm not after anyone's son."

"No? Not even all the handsome boys in your classes? I'm sure there are at least a few." He teases you and your cheeks flush red.

"I wouldn't know, I'm watching the lectures." You shrug jokingly.

Coryo is trying not to lose his mind while you talk about how single you are. Not that you were much of a willing participant, and to be fair he did tell you not to indicate to them that the two of you were together. You technically weren't, if he was being totally fair, but just because it hadn't been said doesn't mean it isn't real. He knew you knew that, though. So why was he getting so mad?

He doesn't even realize how little attention he was paying after that until you're standing up and shaking Lucky's hand. It was over, you'd done everything you could have to ease the minds of scared and angry Capitol parents.

Lucky gives you a quick hug, wishing you good luck in your classes before you're allowed to rejoin Coryo. "Ready to go?" He asks and you nod.

"How did I do?" You ask as you walk out of the studio and into the hall, aiming for the elevator to take you back to ground level.

"Amazing, love. You were perfect." Coryo confirms, still noticeably tense as he walks next to you.

"Are you sure?" You ask as he presses the button to call the car up to your level, unsure since he still hasn't really looked at you.

The door opens and you both step in. "Yes." He tells you again, quickly tapping the door close button.

"Oh, good. I was really nervous..." You laugh slightly as the doors slide shut, and as soon as any light from the hall ceases to enter the elevator his hands are on you and his lips are pressed against yours.

You let out the slightest squeak out of shock, but quickly relax as Coryo rubs familiar small circles on your hips with his thumbs. How he could be so gentle as he backs you into the wall of the elevator you don't know, but you're grateful for it as you hum into his mouth. But still, something was different.

Spending so much time with you only made him want you more. He loved you, he knew that, and someplace deep in the corners of his mind, he had always wanted you in a way he never thought possible when he first fell for you before the games. Now, with you curled up under his sheets almost every night, seeing you step out of the bathroom with damp hair after a shower in pyjamas that don't fit you quite right, he thought about it more than ever. Thoughts of you plagued him more than usual, and the best way to describe the accompanying feeling was guilt. Guilt that he couldn't show you off given the circumstances- at least not yet.

He trails his kisses away from your lips and across your jaw, pulling you tighter against him. "You're so beautiful, my love..." He mumbles into the skin just below your ear, leaving a kiss in his wake that has your head spinning.

You giggle, eyes fluttering open. "What has gotten into you?" You ask, hands sliding up over his chest to rest on his shoulders.

"I can't tell my girlfriend that I think she's gorgeous?" He asks, shaking his head slightly as he looks down into your eyes.

"Oh, so I am your girlfriend." You giggle and he nods, kissing you again.

"Of course you are, and don't forget it." He chuckles, pulling back from you as the elevator stops moving, waiting for the doors to open.

Your skin is flushed down to your chest as the doors slide apart and even though he's not touching you anymore, you can feel the ghost of his hands on you. You look up at him, a lingering smirk still on his face as he looks straight ahead and leads you out of the car.

The phone rang at the time you were eating dinner, and you quickly asked if you could be excused to go answer it. Coryo and Tigris both just nodded at you, but you could still feel their grandmother's eyes burning into your back as you quickly walked away. She still wasn't fond of you, but she tolerated you. For now, that was just enough.

You grab the phone off the receiver as the small round screen flickers to life. "Hello?" You answer, hopeful that it would finally be your family you see on the other side.

You had answered every call that came to the Snow's apartment for weeks, waiting anxiously to hear their voices again.

"Y/N, is that you, honey?"

You gasp with excitement when you get a clear enough view of your ma. "Ma! Hi!" You smile, leaning in a little closer to get a more clear view as the camera on their end begins to adjust. This was likely the first time it was being used.

"Oh, honey, how good it is to see you!" She smiles, and out of nowhere, you feel hot tears welling up in your eyes.

"You too, Ma." You nod, biting into your lower lip. You didn't want to cry so quickly into the call. "How are you? How's everything at home?"

"Same old." She shakes her head with a slight laugh. "I'm much more interested in you- how is everything? How is school? And how is Tybalt settling in? How are you settling in? My goodness, I just have so many questions!"

You laugh, quickly wiping a stray tear. You had told them about all of this in letters, of course, but she just wanted to hear you say it all. "Everything is good. School has been so lovely, Coryo walks me to all my classes and we eat lunch together between. And Tybalt just loves it here! They have a garden on the roof, and I take him up there as often as I can. Tigris won't stop giving him treats either so he couldn't be happier."

You look down at the animal as he brushes against your leg, looking up at you.

"That's amazing. I've been so worried, it's just so good to see your face again. God, we've been missin' you..."

"I miss you too." You agree, careful not to choke on your tears. "How is Len? And have you seen Lucy Gray and the Covey?"

"He's... He's doing alright." Your mother looks off-screen, and you assume he must be there. The look on her face, one of nervousness and hesitation tells you he doesn't want to speak to you. "But Lucy Gray has been around every day, she and Maude Ivory come over and they help me with hanging the laundry and such... It's been good to have them around."

You smile sadly, nodding slightly with the receiver pressed to your ear. You felt bad about that aspect of leaving- you spent as much time as you could before the games helping out around the house, but even in the summer when you came back you weren't much help. Your mother wouldn't let you do dishes all summer, for fear that the sight of a knife might set you off. She knew you came back a different person, and she wasn't taking any risks. All she really allowed you to do was hang laundry and "keep her company" while she did other home chores. But now, she didn't even have that.

"Can I speak to him?" You ask, referring to your brother who you knew was there.

She nods, waving off camera and holding her hand over the wrong part of the phone. "Lennox, come over here. Y/N wants to talk to you."

His response is muffled, but you make out the gist of it. 'I don't want to talk to her'.

"She's your sister, Lennox. You can't ignore her forever."

'If she wants to talk, she should come home.'

Your heart clenches in your chest and you chew your lip. You have to pretend you couldn't hear, but you just felt so horribly guilty. You shouldn't have left, but he doesn't understand you had no choice. He wouldn't be able to understand until you could come home and see him again, likely not until the summer. Coryo had told you to be mindful of what you write in letters and what you say on the phone, it's possible others were listening. The Capitol was always listening.

"He's just a little busy right now, honey." She smiles at you, but you can see right through it. "But tell me about your day! Did you have class?"

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl ,  @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs, @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore , @strawberryflavouredkisses, @cascadingbliss

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

[thehandsresisthim]

“tranquility”

contains: yandere link (botw/totk) x reader, nothing too explicit, but still 18+, ise-kaid reader but it kinda just starts when you’re already in hyrule, maybe i’ll post the next ‘chapters’ the following weeks if i remember to ehem

word count: ~1400

You and him find a secluded spot in the woods to spend the night.

He thoroughly scouts out the immediate area for a moment, making sure that there are no monsters around.

It’s late into the night, almost midnight, so he hurries up preparing everything - not that there’s much to prepare. But he lights a fire, and he puts down his bedroll, and he tells you to use it. He’ll keep watch, he tells you.

“Is this really okay?” you say in a tired voice.

He nods. “I bet you’re not used to sleeping on the ground.”

“Mmh.” you would argue further, but you’re so tired that you don’t protest, just lay down. It’s not as bad as you thought. He insisted on making sure there were no rocks beneath the bedroll, not even the tiniest thing - smooth ground all the way. You pull the thin covers over you and rest your head on the pillow. You don’t close your eyes yet, however.

He looks at you and smiles. “Sleep well.”

Quickly after, you fall asleep.

⚔️⋆｡°✩ ⋆ ⋆ ❁ ⋆ ⋆ ✩°｡⋆ ⚔️

It’s early morning, around four, when you wake again. He’s laying next to you, arms tightly wrapped around you, right hand placed beneath your shirt, on your back. His hand feels surprisingly soft, although some of the callousness you’d expect due to his, uh, living circumstances, is also there. He’s breathing softly, and definitely asleep. His sword and other weapons are placed right next to the bed roll.

You find yourself not knowing how to react. Although this is definitely a bit forward, he did lend you his bedroll, and has been so, so nice to you so far. If not for him… you don’t know how you would’ve gotten along in this world. Probably gobbled up by some monsters. He deserves some rest too…

A voice - his voice - snaps you out of your thoughts.

“Darling…”

You notice that he’s sleeping - breathing as softly and evenly as before, hand still located on your back. Perhaps he is dreaming about his lover? You hope that this isn’t one of those dreams. That’d be really weird. But you guess that even if that’s so - not like that’d be his fault. He can’t help what he’s dreaming about.

“‘M… never… going to let you go,” he continues.

You can’t help but smile a little. Yes, you decide, he’s definitely dreaming about a lover. You wonder if you’ll ever meet them. You fall asleep again.

⚔️⋆｡°✩ ⋆ ⋆ ❁ ⋆ ⋆ ✩°｡⋆ ⚔️

It’s later in the morning when you wake up again.

You stretch and yawn. He gives you a friendly nod once he sees that you’re awake and waves at you.

“Good morning!” you say.

He smiles back at you, then turns back to the fireplace. He seems to be grilling the mushrooms he collected yesterday. You smile at the smell and get up from the bedroll.

He’s wearing his armour, and all of his weapons on him. You remember that he did wear his armour in bed with you - you felt the metal on his shoulders pressed against your chest - he must’ve put the weapons back on. It only makes sense, after all.

You can’t help but think of him sleeping next to you… he seems to be unbothered by it. Maybe it’s just a common thing among travellers? You decide to not think anything else of it.

You fold the blanket and the pillow, and roll up the bedroll. You have to bend over to pick up the bedroll, and you feel like he glances over at you for a moment as you do so…

Snap out of it! you tell yourself. He’s probably just making sure that you’re folding it up correctly. Besides, if you’re going with the dream he had earlier, he's already got someone else, so don’t get your hopes up!

You place all the parts of the makeshift bed together. He doesn’t look at you again, but rather, seems to stare at the fire and continue preparing the mushrooms.

You decide that since he’s made sure that the area is safe just last night, some mild exploring might do you some good. The noise of your steps is overshadowed by the cackling fire and muffled by the dampness of the forest floor.

⚔️⋆｡°✩ ⋆ ⋆ ❁ ⋆ ⋆ ✩°｡⋆ ⚔️

After a few more minutes of roasting the mushrooms over the fire, he stretches a little and decides to sit down. As he stares into the fire, he reflects on last night. Admittedly, laying down next to you was a bit forward…

But then again. He allowed you to travel with him, although you’re slower, and he allowed you to sleep on his bedroll. And he defended you against the monsters, and he’s making you food right now. He deserves a bit of comfort, doesn’t he?

‘Hopefully, the bedroll will keep her scent for a while.’ he catches himself thinking. ‘If she’s always with me… then I’ll never have to worry about that…’ a part of his mind continues.

He catches himself staring into the flames and entertaining the thought. He imagines you living with him, in a house built by him, near a village of your choosing. He imagines you and him sleeping next to each other, perhaps even more entangled together than last night.

He could make you food. Maybe you could keep horses. He could use his strong arms and knowledge of weapons for something other than fighting. Although… if someone were to get too close to you… He’ll make sure to never forget how to properly handle people like that.

But there’s a certain tranquillity in thinking about how everyday life would be with you.

You and him could design a house together: you said you’d like to stargaze, so obviously, there’d be a large balcony.

It could connect to the bedroom; he imagines a big bed where you can sleep on the proper mattress that you deserve. Next to him, of course. He could build it himself. He knows that he’s rather strong; so, since he wants it to be a place where he can have you all to himself, he’ll need to make sure that the bed is built in a way to be able to keep up with that. And it’ll need a big canopy - a physical thing to keep out the outside world. He’ll get to keep you all to himself there.

And he’ll build you a nice big closet, so that you can keep all the luxurious clothes he’ll buy for you. He wonders what you’d like to wear… He thinks about buying you jewellery. Small amber earrings. A necklace… perhaps one of those tight ones, that would go around your neck. And he’d make sure that you have a ring on, too, just like he will. He wants you to have a closet full of pretty clothes. Maybe you’d ‘steal’ some of his too… you in his tunic… he smiles at the thought. You, in the morning, perhaps still slightly sleepy - quickly getting out of bed, searching for something to wear. Maybe you’d just quickly slip on some of his clothes. You’d sit on a nearby chair and smile at him. And there’d be a big desk for you to paint and craft and write by.

You’d also want a nice bathroom, probably. A really modern one, where you could shower… perhaps with him. And it’d need a bathtub, too!

And he’d make sure to build a strong, big staircase… it could lead right into the living room. He’d like a kitchen area that would connect to the living room… just a big open space. So that he can always watch you. You could cook together, and he’d make all your favourite meals. And he’d make sure that you’d have a big sofa, to cuddle on and hang out on and maybe indulge in other activities there too.

The windows would be big and open, to always let the sun in.

And maybe, if you’d like it, you’d keep horses. He wonders what you’d name yours. He could teach you how to ride… maybe help you catch one. Or maybe you’d only have one horse, and he’d never teach you to ride, so that you’d always have to rely on him to get around. So that he’d always be around you. And you’d sit behind him on his horse, and he’d purposely ride a little faster than you’re used to, and you’d hold onto his waist.

He finds himself smiling. The thought makes him feel warm inside, in a way that he’s not used to. He thinks that you must be feeling hungry, so he picks up one of the mushroom skewers from the fireplace. He turns around to face you. His smile falls. You’re not there.

i swear if i was isekai-d (?) to hyrule i’d be killed for blasphemy in seconds - “lmao weak ass goddess hylia needing a nine year old to fight her battles for h-“ *gets struck down by lightning*

uhhh enough babbling hope you enjoyed ❤️ comments and likes are always appreciated, same as reblogs of course!! master list is here :)

18+ short fic abt link warming your strap is here if that suits your fancy hehe

[cryptictongues]

Purrfect Medicine

pairing: Joshua Rosfield x Fem!Reader rating: G word count: 4.2k summary: You find a stray cat and Joshua doesn't know how to feel. warnings: This is straight up fluff!

Author’s Notes: Remember when I posted a poll a while back and this and that Clive smut won? Well, here is this one LOL sorry for the wait!

Please read my pinned post before following me! Minors and ageless blogs will be blocked as this blog’s content is NSFW.

[AO3 Link]

The deadlands near the Northern Territories were dreary and dark, something that the realm has become far too familiar with in recent years. Its void of life has created an eerie stain on the map of Valisthea; a tell-tale sign to people that nothing good survives there with its lack of resources. Joshua knew this, yet you had somehow convinced him to set up camp for the night right in the heart of them.

It wasn’t something the both of you had planned for, being that he wanted to get to Prince Dion sooner rather than later. However, you had insisted on stopping for the night when he started to cough non-stop, wheezing more and more with each stretch of travel. He knew you wouldn’t take no for an answer, the stubborn being that you are, and he wasn’t in any mood to argue. The last thing he remembers was you setting up the tent around him as he went in and out of consciousness, sleep taking over his brain until he was no longer present mentally. Now, as his mind starts to wake up, his first instinct is to locate your figure. He didn't sense any movement and the sounds of the deadlands were silent. Sitting up quickly, fast enough to make him dizzy, he pulls back the flap of the tent to see everything has been set up for the night, except you were nowhere to be seen. 

Joshua groans. He can’t believe you ran off alone again. After telling you numerous times to not leave his sight, you still don’t listen. While marching to the beat of your own drum is a trait he admires greatly, it drives him absolutely insane at the same time. It is times like these where he wishes his body didn’t fail him so greatly; to have the energy to take care of himself better. It would save him a lot of trouble for himself, but for you especially.

Joshua has known you since the two of you were kids. You were kept in the medicine houses, learning how to heal Rosarian soldiers as the time for war was upon them. He recalls being there a lot as a kid, being as sick as he was. He would always watch you as you watched one of the healers work on him, concentrating on what to do and use for certain ailments. He was charmed the moment he saw you, his chest fluttering in ways he didn’t quite understand at the time. 

Those were the only times he saw you. The two of you hadn’t spoken any words to each other unless needed for assessing, and that was that. It wasn’t until after the events of Phoenix Gate, where he remembers vague images of someone pulling him out of the rumble and loaded onto a carriage, where the girl who made his heart flare worked on him all the way until they went into hiding under the protection of the Undying. Long story short, being the only two children in isolation from the rest of the world made it very easy to become fast companions and the Undying declared you his guardian for his travel due to such a bond. Not that he would have accepted any other answer, for you knew him like the back of your hand. 

Which means he knew that you knew leaving with no warning would upset him, especially out in the deadlands.

Joshua walks out into the open, starting to pace back and forth unknowingly. You have done this before and have turned up just fine. But the what ifs, the what ifs that fill his mind with dread, make him uneasy with the same questions. Does he go searching for you? Does he stay put? What would you do if he left with no sign? It is the same cycle over and over again.

“If you keep pacing like that, this stop will have been for not.”

Joshua whips his head around to see you standing a few feet away, smiling at him like you weren’t just gone for who knows how long. He takes a long, good look at you, examining to make sure nothing is out of place. But you looked just as you did when he passed out; clean and unscathed. 

“I wouldn’t pace if you would just listen to me for once.” He grimaces. 

All you did was smile at him, eyes turning into crescents as you walked towards him. “I apologize, Your Grace. I was out finding some herbs for your well-being, but I am sure you can assume how that went.”

“Well, my darling, this is the deadlands. One can assume that means everything is dead.” He feels his lip wanting to curve into a smirk, but he represses it. He can’t let you keep getting away with this: scaring him and shifting his mood back the minute he sees you. He wants to say more, but the second he starts to move his lips, he hears a chirp come from your satchel. 

You laughed amusingly, from what Joshua can assume is his reaction to the noise. He watches you reach for the latch, opening it slowly. “If everything is dead, care to explain this?”

He watches the satchel move slightly, and then sees two black ears pop up. A moment later, he sees piercing green eyes, and not a moment too soon he sees a pink nose and whiskers. He is at a loss for words as he stares at a black cat. A bloody black cat.

“Isn’t he cute?” You exclaimed, removing the satchel from your body and setting it on the ground, revealing the cats full form. “I found him hurdled in a crevice off the outer cliff. I didn’t see any other cats, so I guess he is all alone.” 

Joshua looks at the cat closely. “How do you know it is a boy?”

You smirked at him. “I can show you if you want.” You go to pick the cat up and immediately it clicks what you were about to do.

“No need!” Joshua rushes out, his face heating up from the embarrassment of his outburst, causing you to burst out laughing. 

“You should see the look on your face!” You laughed, sitting down in the process and letting the cat crawl into your lap. “I was thinking of what we should name him. Lance short for Lancelot? Crow? Maybe something more common like Bernard?”

Joshua’s eyes go wide. “Don’t tell me we are keeping him.”

“Well, why not?” You shrugged. “He could be the best healer in the group, especially if I train him.”

“My love, he is a cat.” Joshua states the obvious. He doesn’t even know the first thing about taking care of a cat. Sure, he knew how to take care of a Chocobo and even a frost wolf, but a cat? That was out of his range. 

“Cats can be wonderful companions, if you let them.” You smiled, slowly cradling the black ball of fur in your arms as you stood up. You walked over to him, holding the cat up by your face to give the most puppiest of eyes. “Come on, Joshua. Can we please take him with us? I’ll take care of him just like I take care of you. Besides, just you wait! I will make him the best healer you’ve ever seen!”

Joshua doesn’t want to give in, but the more he looks at you, the more his willpower crumbles. He hates how easily he folds for you, and as he continues to stare at you and the cat, he knows he has lost this battle. With a long sigh, Joshua nods in defeat. “Fine, but please, for the love of Greagor Herself, don’t run off again by yourself.”

In an instant, he feels your plush lips kiss his cheek. He watches as you buzzed with excitement, holding the cat close to you. “Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU, Joshua! You will not regret this!” 

He is going to regret this.

-

It had been a week since Crow, the name you decided to give your furry friend, was found. Like you had promised, you’ve been very good at taking care of both him and Joshua. Joshua was impressed with your ability to multitask between two beings. However, what was starting to crawl over him like a green second skin was all the fault of the little feline.

Joshua admits that Crow is very well-behaved. He doesn’t run off anywhere he isn’t supposed to. He is relatively quiet, letting out a meow or a chirp if he is hungry or wants some attention. He doesn’t get upset being carried in the satchel you carry, quite the opposite really. Joshua has noticed that Crow is quite keen on keeping his head perched over the bag to watch the surroundings during travel. There is nothing to complain about, except for one major thing: how much he got your attention. 

The first night, you had been curled up into Joshua’s side, per usual, with Crow settled at your feet. It wasn’t until he woke up the next morning that he noticed your warmth seemed further away and saw you lying flat on your back with Crow curled on top of your chest. Joshua remembers a glimmer of jealousy in his heart but set it aside quickly. It is just one night. This will not be common practice.

Until it did. It always started the same and ended the same. Joshua started to loathe the damn cat, and he felt silly for it. “It’s a bloody cat!” He thought. He should not feel such negative feelings towards it, but every time he pushes the jealousy out, it rolls back ten-fold.

Joshua is walking side by side with you, the two of you trailing the Crystal Road, getting closer to where the two of you need to be. Joshua is deep in thought, negative swirls of green dancing around his head, when he feels a small bump against his leg. He ignores it, thinking he got too close to your bag, when he feels it again.

He looks down to see Crow looking up at him, eyes wide and mouth curled. Joshua watches him bump his head against his leg, only to look back up at him with his big green eyes. 

Joshua is stumped. Is he hungry? Can he feel the negative energy enclosing in his brain? Can cats do that? 

“Um… dearest…” Joshua says softly, not wanting to disturb the peaceful walk. 

“Hmm?”

“Crow wants something.”

Joshua and you stop in the middle of the road, and you spread the bag apart. “What’s up, little guy?” 

You scratched his head, and Crow started to purr. You chuckled, looking at Joshua who was standing there feeling lost. 

“You are so knowledgeable, yet so clueless.” You smirked. “He wants attention. He wants you to pet him.”

“Me?” Joshua asks, seriously questioning how that could be true. Crow hadn’t been craving his attention; it had been yours.

“He wants you to scratch his head. He loooooves that.” You drawled out. “Go on. Just like this.”

You scratched his head around his ears, demonstrating to Joshua how to proceed. He hesitantly lets his fingers run across the back of Crow’s head, just petting him at first to get a feel for how he will react. Crow pushes his head into Joshua’s fingers, which encourages him to start moving his fingers back and forth quickly. 

Joshua couldn’t believe his luck. Crow was purring at the attention he was getting, and it made Joshua grow bolder. He starts to scratch down under Crow’s neck, making him lift his neck further for more room. In a way, this felt very therapeutic to him. It’s as if the twangs of jealousy that filled his head left within seconds, putting a smile on his face.

He hears a small chuckle, and he looks up to see you smiling behind your hand. He perks up, still scratching Crow in the process. “What’s so funny?”

“It just seems like the sun has decided to come back out.” You dropped your hand, letting it reach for his free one. “You seemed rather gloomy as of late. I’m just happy to see you smile genuinely."

“I apologize,” Joshua followed up with. “I have so much on my mind.” It wasn’t a lie, of course. He did have a lot on his mind, but he doesn’t have the courage to admit that the main thing getting to him was jealousy due to a damn cat.

“I know, but that’s why you have me. You know I’m always here for you.” You swayed, pulling him in a little closer.

Joshua hums and brings his hand to your face. With a gentle grasp, he pulls you in for a soft kiss, reminding himself that you are indeed here for him. He knows you wouldn’t put yourself in such a dangerous position if you didn’t feel strongly for him. 

The kiss is interrupted by another head bump, causing Joshua to pull away. He hears you laugh and next thing he knows the satchel strap is over his shoulder, the cat in the bag right by his right leg. 

“I’ll let you carry him for a while. He seems to want your affection.” You grin. He laughs softly and takes your right hand to press on the long, winding road with his right hand in the cat bag.

-

Joshua and you made camp, and for once he thought it best to stop for the night. It wouldn’t be long before the two, well three of you, reach the Crystal Belt, so some time to gather himself in preparation for his meeting with Dion sounded best. 

Joshua was settling into the tent, waiting for you to come join him. He had started to help clean for an early start tomorrow, but you insisted he go ahead. While he usually would insist right back to keep his gentleman roots intact, he could feel the long day weighing on his eyelids and chose to let your stubbornness flourish for the night. 

His eyes were starting to flutter shut, until he heard the soft patter of paws near him. He opens his eyes to see Crow staring at him, or at least what he can see of him. His black coat completely camouflages him into the shadows of the night, but his green eyes glimmer in the dark.

Joshua sits up on his elbows, hesitant to move. He watches Crow observe him, the cat's head tilting by the way the eyes become diagonal from one another. Petting Crow in a bag, where he is secure, is one thing. To engage with him where he can make any move he wishes is another. While Crow has been friendly, it has been when you were around. This is the first time he has been alone with the feline, and he doesn’t know how to act. 

Crow had gotten noticeably closer and was now at the crevice of Joshua’s left arm. He stiffed when he felt Crow sniffing him, goosebumps rolling over his body in anticipation. Great Greagor, he is going to jump me. However, not only did that not happen, but the next thing Joshua sees is Crow let out a yawn, stretching his whole body in the process, before falling on his side with his head laying in between Joshua’s elbow. Small breaths can be heard as Crow starts to relax further, causing Joshua to relax with him. He lays back down, getting more on his side so he is in a comfortable position that allows room for Crow to stay undisturbed from his slumber. Carefully, he pulls Crow closer to him, making him snuggle more into his arm. 

“This isn’t so bad.” Joshua thinks, a small smile forming on his lips. His mom never allowed Torgal to sleep with him as a child, her excuse being the wolf dander would deplete his immune system more than it already was. To have an animal so close to him is comforting. It makes him feel oddly safe, even when he feels safe in your company. 

He hears the tent flaps open, and the moonlight shines into the tent. He sees your expression as you look at him and Crow, and his heart melts at how your eyes lit up. He watches you tie the flap so it is slightly ajar, and then watches you crawl in. You sit criss-crossed beside him, very obviously admiring the scene occurring. 

“Well, isn’t this a sweet surprise?” You said smugly, arms crossed.

“Yeah,” Joshua lightly laughs. “I guess I can understand why you would want to sleep with him and not me.”

“Awe, was My Lord jealous of the little pussy cat?” You pouted jokingly, and all Joshua can do is groan. He knows it is silly, but he can’t deny it.

“I won’t deny my feelings, though rather immature.” He huffs lightly, looking down at the sleeping ball of fur. He moves his hand to stroke the black fur of Crow’s side, his mood lighting up even further. “This is strangely healing, however. I don’t blame you.”

“Well, you can now have a turn with him. He is a great sleepmate.” You moved to set up a side for yourself, but Joshua carefully reached for your arm causing you to turn to him quizzically. 

“I have a proposition, being that you join us instead of sleeping alone tonight.”

The warmth in your eyes at his statement makes his heart leap, knowing your answer before it slips your lips. He watches you undress to the undergarments that lie beneath your outer clothes, and lifts the covers when you go to lie beside him. He intertwined his legs with yours, both of your bodies getting as close as possible without crushing Crow. His forehead touches yours, inhaling with an ease he hadn’t felt in a while.

“What is it?” You asked, concern in your tone.

“Nothing,” Joshua mumbles, his left arm cradling Crow to his chest and his right hand settling on your waist. “This is just nice.”

You both fall asleep to the soft hum of Crow’s breathing.

-

Joshua’s perception of Crow has changed gradually as you all traveled. When he feels his mood sour, it’s like Crow knows and works to get his attention, and suddenly Joshua feels 100 times better. Crow was therapeutic, in a way, so traveling with him wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. If he was being honest with himself, he felt rather happy when Crow begged for his attention. 

There had been a change of plans in the journey to Prince Dion’s camp. On the belt of the Crystal Road, Joshua had started to feel worse for wear. His coughing had grown rougher and more painful, more blood coming out of his lungs. His chest wound was growing bigger by the day. He knows he is running out of time, so he had insisted that the journey must continue. Once again, however, you did not listen. Which is why he is now laying in a bed at the Dalimil Inn. 

“We really need to get a move on, dearest. We need to get to Dion.” He tries to sound healthy, but even he isn’t dumb enough to think he sounds convincing. He starts to move, wanting to sit up, before another round of coughing rushes out of his lungs.

“Yeah, and you struggling to stay up right is going to help us get there faster.” You snarked, still light hearted nonetheless.

Joshua wishes to retort, but he doesn’t have it in him. He falls back with a groan, his brain pounding and chest tight. He knew keeping Ultima locked away would be hard, but the agony that comes with it is more than he could have realized. Being naturally ill doesn’t provide any immunity to pain, and Joshua was learning the hard way.

You come into his vision, and like the angel you were, you pull the covers over him. Tucking him in like you were his baby, you pressed a kiss to his forehead, which Joshua relished in. He won’t admit it to you, but he has always loved being taken care of. 

“I’m going to run out to the market and find some minerals and herbs for your medicine. I’ll also get you some food as you should eat something.” You twirled a piece of his hair, only to drop it to brush your fingertips against the baby hairs that meet his forehead. “Crow will be here to keep watch.”

Joshua turns his head slightly to see Crow sleeping in the desk chair beside the bed, curled up into the seat. He knew he had to be tired, and a weird sense of envy seeped into Joshua’s bones. He wishes he could sleep with such ease. 

Fingertips graze his chin, rotating it until he meets your eyes again. The way you are looking at him makes his chest feel lighter, even with the chaos and muck that stirs within. Your skin on his soothes him, and he can’t help but to lean into your touch. His eyes flutter shut, and he hears you hum softly. “Try to get some rest. I shall return to you soon.” 

Light pressure sets against his lips, lasting for a few seconds, before releasing. He listens to your steps, and continues to listen after the door shuts. The faintness of your steps disappear, but Joshua still hears them in his mind. The soft pitter-patter of your light feet tap away, and slowly pulls him into a deep sleep.

-

Even in the few moments before Joshua’s slumber ends, he can sense a difference within himself. He feels as if his chest is heavier than before, but not as it was before. The angry flourishes of pain have settled to a dull ache, something he isn’t accustomed to these days. There is a peacefulness that has taken homage, and it is the most calm he has felt in the last few days. The heaviness on his chest is comforting. It felt like the times he would wake up with your head on his chest, with deep breathing that vibrated his being. 

In the early stages of being awake, he reaches for his chest expecting to feel your hair against his skin. His fingers brush against what he believes to be hair, until his brain reminds him that it isn’t coarse and surely doesn’t rise and fall. His eyes snap open, sleepy delirium resolved as he comes face to face with black fur. The light in the room had dimmed slightly, meaning it had been approximately two hours since his slumber. Sometime during the duration, Crow had taken it upon himself to rest on Joshua’s chest.

Crow was purring insistently loud, his eyes crescented as he rests with his body curled. Joshua couldn’t explain it, but the vibrations soothed the violent thumping that would make him stumble with each step. His whole body felt as if he had found an oasis; like he had discovered something that quenched his relief. Or more so, Crow had discovered how to help him. 

Joshua scratched Crow’s head, getting behind the ears, making the black feline purr louder and lean into his hand. He could feel a lump in his throat, for somehow, a cat had come to his aid. A cat took one look at him and knew how to help him. Who knew such a remedy would treat him so diligently and work so well. He presumes Greagor knew what She was doing when you had come across the ball of fur; a healer with a healer cat. 

Joshua was so immersed with Crow’s abilities, that the sound of the door opening and closing hadn’t caught his attention. It isn’t until he feels movement at the end of the bed that his head shoots up to see you with the biggest grin on your face.

“What did I tell you?”

“Regarding?” Joshua asks, confused as to why you are looking at him with such glee.

“I told you I’d make him a great healer!” You cheered enthusiastically. “Look at you! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look as comfortable as you do right now.”

“You’ve trained him well.” He continues to pet Crow, moving his fingers down to scratch under his neck. “However, I do believe you said he’d be the best healer I’d ever seen. I’ll admit I stand corrected, for he may even be a better healer than you.” He jests, knowing it’ll rile you up.

You gawked at him, “If he wasn’t lying on your chest right now, I’d make you take that back.”

“You can remove him if you’d like. I’d like to see what you’d do.” He draws out lewdly, loving how you are reacting to his quips. 

“Whatever, you perv.” You laughed, moving to crawl beside him. You had gently wrapped an arm across him, right behind where Crow lays. Your head is now beside his and he can’t help himself as he leans in to kiss you. The two of you stay like that for a while, enjoying the tranquility of the moment before the three of you prepare to experience the rough world out there. 

Him, his lady, and their cat.

[guardian-angle22]

Happy to present to y'all this 911LS fic list for stories related to one of my favorite episodes 3.13 Riddle of the Sphynx! I try to make these as comprehensive as possible, so if you have any you think I missed, let me know so I can add them. (I also might make edits to these posts to add more fics as they get written. If I ever do so I'll be sure to reblog the post for visibility!)

Enjoy all of our amazing fandom writers and leave them some comments & love!

[Disclaimers: • If you're an author and don't like to be tagged or linked for any reason, let me know and I'll remove the tag and make sure not to do so in the future, no questions asked. • I usually post TWs in rec lists. Due to the episode subject matter, assume all of these have a TW for discussion of addiction/drug use and possibly discussion of parent death/grief.]

◆ Heard the risk is drowning by @paperstorm (Words: 15.3 K; Rating: M)

A tag for 3x13, "Riddle of the Sphynx", in which Carlos combats his own insecurities as TK tries to heal.

◆ Chasers by @carlos-in-glasses (Words: 13.4K; Rating: E)

After 3x13 – while TK is alone with Cooper, Carlos is alone with his thoughts. Both recall times they’ve chased the next high, other men, or each other. When Carlos arrives home, TK still has something important to say – and it's something he didn’t tell Cooper.

◆ trying my best by @reyescarlos (Words: 10.3K; Rating: M)

An exploration of TK's sobriety journey from 2017 to now. Or, a season 3 coda spanning 3x08-3x13

◆ You Showed me How it feels to Truly be Seen by @ramblingdisaster73 (Words: 3K; Rating: T)

Carlos works through the events of 3x13 "The Riddle of the Sphinx".

◆ Measure of a Man by @chicgeekgirl89 (Words: 1.8K; Rating: T)

“I want to be everything you need. That I can’t be, it hurts, T.K. It feels like a failure on my part. And as much as I’m trying to accept it, it’s hard.” A 3x13 coda in which Carlos struggles with a new definition of being "enough."

◆ I'll be here all the same by @strandnreyes (Words: 4.8K; Rating: G)

“I am glad you have someone you can talk to who can maybe do a better job at fixing things,” Carlos insists before dropping his eyes to their tangled together fingers. “All I want is for you to be okay.”It’s not surprising to hear, but it hits as if it was. That really is the root of this whole thing. As much as Carlos wants to do what he can to be the person to get TK to that place, at the end of the day all he really wants is for TK to get there.“I will be.”Or, three late night conversations following the events of 3.13

◆ Trigger by comes2gusu (Words: 4.7K; Rating: T)

TK is struggling with his newly found sobriety. After being triggered at an NA meeting, Cooper takes TK for omelets

◆ this love we carry by @thevenstar (Words: 7.6K; Rating: T)

A 3x13 coda in which Carlos has a conversation with a friend, puts his heart to rest, and learns that walking away does not mean surrender.

◆ Those Pieces by @taralaurel (Words: 7.3K; Rating: M)

"I, I'm not telling you all - this - so you can fix me," TK huffs a hot breath against Carlos' chin, "or save me or really, do anything, okay?" Carlos nods against TK's forehead. TK has done a lot of things in his life to deserve the bad that has happened to him. He has no idea what good he's done to deserve Carlos. Coda to 3x13

◆ the one i want by @chaotictarlos (Words: 2K; Rating: E)

TK gets Carlos to take his shirt off.

◆ i want you to unravel me by @reyescarlos (Words: 4.2K; Rating: E)

In the aftermath of the strain that's fallen over them, TK and Carlos bridge the gap with open conversation that brings them closer together, both emotionally and physically. [3x13 coda]

◆ Just Wanna Breathe by @theoceanismyinkwell (Words: 1.9K; Rating: G)

Carlos doesn’t dare look at him for long, knowing that his eyes have always been the window to his soul, the weakest part of his body, unveiling everything in the well of truths he’s kept a lid on for years and years. His family may not be able to read him as well as he feared for the decades he was in the closet, but TK has a way of crashing into his life with a formidable gentleness and a piercing understanding that unmoors him in every possible way.And that’s precisely what TK is doing now, keeping the warmth of his palms flush against the beating of Carlos’ skin, cradling his face, forcing them both to gaze into each other’s eyes and face each other’s unspoken terrors without flinching.TK sounds like he has a lump in his throat. “I’m going to say something, and I want you to listen to me and I want you to remember it.”---Or: What happens when Carlos comes back home after TK's talk with Cooper, and the confessions that spill out after.

◆ waiting on the sidelines by @morganaspendragonss (Words: 1.5K; Rating: T)

They’d promised each other no more secrets, and while Carlos rationally knows that these aren’t exactly secrets, there’s still this grain of resentment inside of him that scratches away with every beat of his heart. It’s something he can’t let show in front of TK ever again, which is why he’s here, outside Owen's house while TK and Cooper talk in the loft.If anyone’s going to understand what he’s feeling, it’s Owen Strand.

◆ Three Weeks In by @masterroadtripper (Words: 3K; Rating: T; TW: self-harm)

It’d been three weeks since Sadie had drugged them - nineteen days since TK started a ninety-day NA sobriety program at the local Synagogue and eleven days since Carlos had met Cooper for the first time - before Carlos realized that there was something else TK wasn’t telling him.

◆ What We Need by Ehm (Words: 3.1K; Rating: T)

"You okay, bud?" Cooper startled him out of his thoughts and he let go of the spoon with a clinking noise. He straightened up, embarrassed. "Sorry, I zoned out." "I can see that," Cooper sounded vaguely amused. "You wanna talk about it?" --- Three times TK has a conversation with Cooper, and one time he talks to Carlos. Or, 3x13 and beyond from TK's point of view.

◆ Nocturne by @sanctuaryforalluniverses (Words: 735; Rating: T)

Carlos comes home. (Post-ep for 3x13)

◆ Precious Love by @rmd-writes (Words: 11.6K; Rating: M)

This is five times TK thinks he doesn’t deserve love and one time he knows he does – an exploration of TK’s relationship with love and self-worth.

◆ Inside a snow globe by @goodways (Words: 6.9K; Rating: E)

It isn’t until TK is on top, lavishing Carlos’ neck, stroking his hand up his side, that Carlos brings their faces together, barely a suggestion of a kiss between them. He holds TK’s jaw and keeps him close whilst he readies the question in his mind. He breathes out a straightforward and tempting, “fuck me,” over TK’s lips which silences the world outside their bedroom. TK’s response whenever he’s asked for this has few variations between immediate enthusiastic compliancy and the sweet reassurance he knows Carlos is dying for. The answer is always yes. - The evening after TK gets his one month sobriety chip.

◆ my home has been your heart since the day i met you by @lavendergiroux (Words: 1.8K; Rating: M)

After Carlos leaves Cooper and TK to talk, all they do is talk about him. When Carlos comes home - they are still talking about him.

◆ Deep Talks and Cuddles by raniaswritings (Words: 1.2K; Rating: T)

TK talks to Cooper and Carlos comes back home after a few hours

◆ “What are you doing?” “I don’t want you to do that.” by @irispurpurea (Words: 1.1K; Rating: T)

Fictober 2022 Day 13 and 14. Prompts: “What are you doing?” “I don’t want you to do that.” “What are you doing?” Carlos looks up to find TK frowning at him from their bedroom. “I…” Carlos holds up the blanket in his hands, unsure what else to say. He thinks it’s pretty obvious what he’s doing. Then again, tonight has proven that he can’t do anything right, apparently, when it comes to TK.

◆ "It's your shirt..." by @lavendergiroux (Words: 780; Rating: M)

TK really didn't want to talk about it, he just really needed Carlos to claim him...

◆ sunkissed face by mooshkat (Words: 1K; Rating: T)

To show his appreciation, TK decides to make Carlos breakfast.

Spec Fics Written Prior to the Episode Airing/Canon Convergence:

◆ if the darkness comes, i'll stay by @doublel27 (Words: 3.2K; Rating: T)

“I had some things to do,” TK says, his stomach twisting. “Some things?” “Carlos, I texted,” TK reminds his boyfriend, because he did. “It’s fine.” “Is it?” Carlos asks, his voice dangerously calm. or TK comes home late for the third night in one week, and he and Carlos have a necessary confrontation. A speculative fic for 3x13.

◆ Caught by @littlemissmarianna (Words: 761; Rating: G)

“Who’s that?” Carlos doesn’t answer Mitchell’s question because he doesn’t know. There’s only a handful of people he can identify from the back, and this guy isn’t on the list. He has broad shoulders, though, and nice hair and is probably good-looking. Why else would TK be staring at him so intently?

◆ In Order to Get Back to Us by reyestrand (Words: 2.2K; Rating: G)

Carlos waits up for TK when he’s late coming home and they talk about the things they’re afraid to. - a 3x13 speculation fic

◆ still comparing your past to my future by @kiras-sunshine (Words: 17.4K; Rating: T)

Something else than the wallowing feeling of uneasiness, anxiety and hurt in the bottom of his stomach. All of it seems to have a chokehold on his heart and no matter what he tries to think about, his thoughts always go back to TK, to worry that keeps mixing in with everything, and the brightness of TK’s smile, the way the corner of his mouth curled up and his eyes shone, when he smiled at someone else than him.

[haikyuulovercompany]

Permanent Words ~ Akaashi Keiji x Reader

In this world, it's easy to know who is your soulmate, but how you find it, it's a complete surprise. One day you'll speak to someone and the very first words they direct at you will appear on your right wrist. Well... meeting your own soulmate was not only in a very premature moment in your life, but it came with a very awkward price. 'Poor Akaashi Keiji' is a thought you would spend your entire life repeating in your head.

Genre: Fluff. Soulmate!AU High School.

Warnings: None.

Words: 2.1K

Notes: No link to the 'original post' here because I took the premise of the original one and literally changed everything about it.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You were having one of those days where it seemed the universe was on a personal mission to make things worse and worse for you. You had been the chosen joke of whatever superior force ruled the world.

You had stayed up very late into the night since it was a Friday. You had zero plans scheduled for the rest of the weekend and you had found a new television series that had ended two years ago and its six seasons were all available. You would have the entirety of your Saturday for yourself anyway. Or well… you had thought.

What had happened instead was your best friend calling you continuously at nine in the morning, to the point the sole buzzing of the phone successfully woke you up. You were quick to point out the day and the hour, cursing her for running your plans of waking up until after noon and staying in your pajamas for half the day. However, she didn’t apologize.

“Did you seriously forget about the Fukurodani Open Day?” your friend questioned, almost offended.

“That is till next week,” you reminded her, dropping your head back on your pillow hoping you could end the call and try to sleep a couple more hours.

“Uhh, no. It’s today.”

“What? It was till the sixteenth,” you insisted.

“Today is the sixteenth.”

You had blinked twice and removed the phone from your ear to look at the date and time. It turned out your friend was completely right. You gasped and jumped out of bed, showering your friend with apologies. The plan you had made was to get breakfast together and then head to Fukurodani together. Your friend had a crush with a guy from the basketball team. She had seen him a couple months back during a tournament game. She had been there to support his younger cousin and left the place furiously investigating everything about the school and team. As she had landed her eyes on the Open Day event, she had made you promise you would go there with her. And still, you had completely forgotten.

The plan was to go there, find the guy and have your friend talk to him and try to find out if the ‘hello there’ she planned on saying appeared on his right wrist. Neither of you had an indication if he could be ‘the one’, but your friend was so infatuated, she had sworn it was an important lead.

You took a quick shower and rushed to your closet with your hair wrapped in a towel. You didn’t have time to meticulously choose your outfit for the day, so you went for a safe option. Comfortable denim shorts and a flowy t-shirt tucked inside together with your favorite pair of sneakers. You didn’t have time to even put a bit more effort in your appearance, so you relied on your sunscreen and mascara. You always had a lip balm with you and that would have to do. You left your house and rushed through the streets. At that point, you didn’t have time to wait for the bus. You only had your legs and your will to make it up to your friend. But it seemed you couldn’t trust your body either because the tip of your sneaker got stuck on the edge of the sidewalk as you finished crossing the street and fell forward. Thankfully, your left leg managed to keep you steady but your right leg wasn’t so lucky, and so, your right knee met with the harsh concrete and got scraped. You hissed in pain as two older guys tried to check on you. You lifted a hand at them, silently letting them know you were okay. Truth was… you hated being late. You hated being in a hurry. Nothing went well when one was in a hurry and that day was proving it. Your wet hair had managed to wet the back of your t-shirt and you had forgotten your sweater, so now you were kind of cold and with nothing to help. Also, your sneaker had a dirt mark on the front and your knee hurt and was bleeding.

You couldn’t run anymore, but you could hop very fast… and you did that for the next five minutes as the initial recoil on your knee went away and you could properly step on your foot. You still couldn’t pick up the pace, but striding was possible and you kept the rhythm. Instead of meeting your friend at the little diner where you were supposed to have breakfast together, you met her at the entrance of Fukurodani. She had sustained a stony expression on you, trying to emphasize she was still not over you forgetting your plans together, but as soon as her eyes drifted down to your knee, she gasped.

“What happened?”

“My feet betrayed me,” you sighed. “It doesn’t hurt that much anymore.”

“We need to clean it, though. It looks bad.” Your friend suddenly stretched her hand to you, handing you a small paper bag. “Also, got you an egg sandwich.”

You simply raised your arms and dropped them around her in a thankful hug. You could really sit down, go silent for five minutes, and have some food. Tired of waiting, your friend grabbed your arm and you two went inside. You allowed your friend to scan the board where all the activities were written down so you two could finally try to make the fateful encounter happen. Your stomach grumbled, then. The smell of the egg sandwich was alluring and you decided to not wait anymore. While your friend searched for the basketball demonstration, you could start munching down on some breakfast. But life was not done with you yet. As you opened the paper bag, a sturdy body crashed lightly against yours, but with your knee in a weak state, it was all it took for you to lose your balance. With two clumsy steps forward, the paper bag slipped your hands and crashed on the floor. You watched as a stranger who had been mindlessly walking through the hallway kicked it.

That was it. You couldn’t take it anymore. Throwing any patience or manners out the window, you turned to see the guy who had crashed onto you. He was tall with short, messy black hair. He looked worried and was about to speak, but you didn’t let him.

“My egg sandwich, dude,” you snarled, and stomping your feet you went to get your food. You picked up the paper bag and looked inside, afraid of finding it in a complete mess. However, the sandwich had been perfectly wrapped up in aluminum paper. Maybe it would be a little mangled, but everything would be in place and ready for you to eat.

You stood up and found the same guy still staring at you with both eyes wide opened, his right hand lifted. You frowned at him, unfairly taking your anger in what was an obvious accident. As you stepped closer, meditating about apologizing for your attitude or not, you finally saw it. On his wrist, the words ‘my egg sandwich, dude’ were marked like a tattoo.

Your brain registered what that meant in a heartbeat. All the air in you slipped through your lips. The guy in front of you... the one with the same startled expression as yours was your soulmate… and you had forever marked his wrist with the stupidest phrase you had ever uttered in your entire life till that point.

Your soulmate. Right there. In front of you.

In a hurricane of uncomfortable emotions, you covered your face with both hands as a strong, overwhelming wave of heat struck your neck and it painfully crawled up to your ears and cheeks. Your whole face was beyond warm with embarrassment. You heard the steps of someone approaching you and you just knew it wasn’t your friend by the sensation of a tall presence looming over you. Your friend wasn't that tall. By then your friend had most probably taken notice of what was unfolding.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he said, using what you could only describe as the gentlest voice you had heard. And he also smelled nice. It was a mix between mint and soap. Clean and soft.

You couldn’t cover your eyes till he got tired and left. You assume he wouldn’t. Well, if he did, it would be disappointing. Your soulmate couldn’t give up on you… and neither could you. It would be equally horrifying if you decided to ignore him to the point he decided to leave you alone. One couldn’t choose how they were going to meet their soulmate, and yours happened to be a tad unfortunate. Nothing to do about it anymore.

You slowly moved your hands away from your face and lifted your eyes as you felt a tingling on your own right wrist. You finally got a good look at him—he had thin features and was fondly smiling at you. Why wasn’t he annoyed even in the slightest? He would live with a horrible sentence on his skin forever.

You turned your eyes to your wrist, seeing the words ‘Pleasure to meet you’ on it. It was so nice and so polite. It was obvious he had picked his words carefully once realizing the situation, making sure the words meant to be on your skin forever were something good.

He had been cautions enough to say the perfect thing. 

“Uhm, I’m going to go ahead,” your friend said, a cheeky edge on her words. “Don’t leave without me, okay?”

“No, of course not!” you hurriedly assured her. “I’ll text you.”

She gave you a thumbs up and did as she said, leaving you alone with your soulmate—a soulmate you still didn’t know their name.

“Your knee is bleeding,” he said before you could ask for his name. “Let’s get that fixed. Follow me.”

You nodded, holding your stupid egg sandwich against your chest. Your hunger had dimmed but that paper bag was the only thing helping you find stability for the time being. Your legs wobbled with every step you took. You had never been one to feel confident about love—you had even stopped thinking when or how you would find your soulmate, afraid it would take your entire life to do so—and now everything was happening in the snap of a finger, in the quickness of a breath.

He signaled you to wait for him as he approached a table with two older ladies. He pointed at you and continued talking. You were right. He was incredibly polite. His stance didn’t shy away, but just by the way he stood and the tone he used, he was respectful. That was nice. Your mother would like him a lot. Your cheeks burned again at your thoughts. That had to be the next, right? You had to start dating. Or well, maybe you could know each other first. Was it possible to not like your soulmate? You had never thought about it. You felt the urge to take out your phone and quickly search for all those answers but by then, he was already coming back at you with a first-aid kit hanging from one of his hands.

“You can sit there,” he said, pointing at the benches lined up against the walls. Again, you could only nod and obey.

You thought you would sit down and he would maybe sit beside you and hand you what you needed for your knee. Instead, he placed the first-aid kit next to you and he knelt. You panicked, quickly muttering ‘no’ over and over again, motioning with your hands for him to stand up. He completely ignored you and got a gauze and rubbing alcohol, and proceeded to clean your scrape. You slightly hissed at the first touch and he apologized, which you found endearing. The wound was no way his fault and he was being beyond nice for getting on the ground and taking care of it. You could already see yourself gloating to others about the gentleman the universe had chosen for you.

In no time there was no more blood on your skin and you could see the scrape wasn’t as bad as the bleeding had made it seem. It would form a scab for sure, but nothing more.

“Thank you so much…” you said, lingering there for a minute. “I still don’t know your name.”

He smiled as he put the bottle of rubbing alcohol back into the box. “Akaashi Keiji. What’s yours?”

You told him yours and repeated his name a couple times in your head. Your eyes went back to his right wrist and a chuckle escaped you, still in disbelief. “I will have these nice words on me, but, I… I just ruined your wrist forever.”

He took a look himself at his own skin and brushed a thumb over it, pale skin stretching but the words not going anywhere. He smiled again. Or had the smile ever left his face? You couldn't tell.

“No, it will be a funny story to tell,” he calmly stated. You smiled back at him, allowing yourself for the first time to relax around him. 

Needless to say, that egg sandwich was left untouched and forgotten to the side.  

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ♡ Thanks for reading! ♡

[whatifitookalilnap]

The Magic of Makeup

(Kyoshi x Rangi)

(A/N: EVERYONE PLS THERE IS A SMUT SCENE HERE! WE GET PORN WITH PLOT SO LIKE AVERT YOUR EYES IF THATS NOT YOUR THING!!!!! Also don't judge me cause IDK how diplomacy or nobility stuff works I'm here for drama. Anywho I already made a couple posts about this but I thought it was so funny that I decided to make a whole fic. The ao3 link will be posted right after this for those who prefer it. Anywho, pls enjoy!)

Kyoshi was jolted awake by Jinpa roughly shaking her entire body. The Avatar immediately sat up and grabbed her fans placed right beside her bed. 

“Who’s dying?!” Kyoshi exclaimed as she jumped out of bed.

“No one, but the Fire Nation nobility are here! Like, they are waiting in front of the gates as we speak!” Jinpa hissed.

“What do you mean they’re already here?! They were supposed to arrive at lunch!” Kyoshi yelled.

“That’s what I was told. I think this is some kind of power play. Just get dressed,” Jinpa insisted.

“Damn! Do you think I can get away with not wearing any of my usual makeup? There’s no way I’m going to have the time but I still need to look intimidating! It’s part of my whole shtick!” Kyoshi asked.

“You’re six and half feet tall, I think you can make it work. Now get changed, woman! We got people to argue with! I'll meet you there!” Jinpa said before rushing out the door.

Kyoshi cursed before springing out of bed to put on her usual business attire. Alright, the green outfit? Check. The headdress? Check. The fans? Check. Big ass gloves? Ah shit, they're not here. Whatever, it’s not that important. Well, that’s all Kyoshi has time for.

The Avatar quickly threw open the door to her bedroom and began speed walking down the hall. Kyoshi already hated leaving her room without makeup. Nowadays, putting on her makeup is step one of her morning routine. She can't remember the last time she handled Avatar business with a bare face. It made her feel vulnerable. Exposed. This meeting needs to end quickly.

As she was speed walking to the conference room where this meeting is to be held, Kyoshi spotted her girl briskly walking in halls. The Avatar couldn’t resist perking up at the sight of her girlfriend coming to meet her. Of course, Rangi had already been awake for an hour before the stupid nobles arrived. She’s always been an early riser.

“Did you have any clue they were coming in so early?” Rangi asked once they met up.

“No, Jinpa had to wake me. I had zero time to get ready,” Kyoshi sighed as the two fell into step with each other.

“I assume that’s why you’re not wearing any makeup,” Rangi very correctly guessed. 

“Yeah, there’s just no way I could have made it happen,” the tall woman confirmed.

“I think that’s for the best, honestly. Being punctual should take priority in this scenario,” Rangi nodded.

Kyoshi felt a surge of pride course through her when Rangi approved of her plans. If only the world knew how weak the Avatar is for her girlfriend. She’d be killed within a week. 

“Let’s get this over with. Hopefully the little bastards are more agreeable this time around,” Kyoshi sighed. 

How Kyoshi despises the damn Fire Nation nobles sent into the damn peace agreement. Kyoshi’s had like five other meetings with them and has been unable to come to an agreement all parties are happy with.

The names of the three nobles that have been utterly torturing Kyoshi for weeks are Akira, Nao, and Chari. Akira does most of the talking, Nao and Chari are really just her yesmen. They're all simply unbearable. The three of them were around her age of twenty two, which is probably what makes them so insufferable. They’re young, spoiled, rich, think they know everything under the damn sun, and worst of all, they don’t have the good sense to fear her. 

Anyone with half a brain should be terrified of Kyoshi! It’s like Jinpa said, she’s six feet and six inches tall! She towers over everyone she meets! Plus the makeup! Ghostly white face and bloody red eyes?? That’s the perfect recipe for fear! How can anyone not be terrified of her?

Maybe it’s wrong to feel so upset that some people aren’t scared of her, but Kyoshi can’t help it. People not having a healthy amount of fear when interacting with her makes her uneasy. If the literal Avatar can’t freak someone out, what can? 

“Wait, one more thing before we go in there,” Rangi said as she stopped right outside the door of the meeting room. 

“What? Did I forget something?” Kyoshi frowned.

“You did,” Rangi confirmed. 

Kyoshi furrowed her brows and went back through her mental checklist involving her attire. Outside of the makeup and gloves, Kyoshi is pretty positive she had everything she needed.

Naturally, Rangi proved her wrong. The firebender cupped Kyoshi’s face in her hands and gave her a light kiss on the lips. At once, Kyoshi’s arms went to Rangi’s hips in order to deepen the delightful sensation. Sadly, Rangi pulled away. 

“You’re going to do great. Stop worrying so much. That’s supposed to be my job,” Rangi smirked. 

“Kay,” Kyoshi said. You know, like an idiot. 

Rangi should never have kissed her right before such an important meeting. Now all Kyoshi can think about is the next opportunity for those lips to be back on her. Kyoshi is so in love with her it physically hurts. 

Okay, time to get the love struck look off her face before facing the nobles. Kyoshi took in a deep breath before nodding to Rangi. With that, her loyal bodyguard opened the doors to where Jinpa and the nobles sat. 

The Fire Nation nobles were muttering amongst themselves as they had during every single one of the past meetings. Typical. Kyoshi had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. However, once the three nobles looked at her, they immediately shut up. That was a surprise.

During the past meetings, even when Kyoshi made her presence known, the little trolls still blabbed on and acted as though she didn't even exist. They would only stop talking when Kyoshi started to speak. However, today she didn’t need to say a word before all eyes were on her. All of the nobles were looking at Kyoshi with shocked expressions, flushed faces, and one of them had their lips parted slightly open in what she can only assume is shock. 

This is suspicious as fuck. 

“Apologies, everyone. I hadn’t realized we would be meeting so soon. Please accept my tardiness,” Kyoshi said respectfully with a bow. 

What she really wanted to say was ‘couldn’t you have given a girl a heads up before meeting me at the crack of dawn’ but that didn’t seem appropriate.

Akira then sprung up out of her seat to pull out a chair for Kyoshi to sit. Kyoshi quickly glanced at Rangi and Jinpa in wonder to see if she's seeing the same thing. Now why on Earth would Akira do that?

“Of course, we certainly didn’t mean to inconvenience such a beautiful woman as yourself. Please, allow me,” Akira said.

Rangi looked like she wanted to set Akira on fire. Kyoshi shared the sentiment. What is she playing at? Less than a minute in and it's rather obvious they are sucking up to her. Ultimately, Kyoshi did sit down on the seat Akira pulled out for her in the name of civility. But that doesn't mean Kyoshi had to like it.

“If you don’t mind me asking, where’s Avatar Kyoshi?” Nao asked.

Kyoshi shot Rangi and Jinpa yet another look. Are these idiots being serious right now?

“I didn’t realize I was so unrecognizable without my makeup,” was all Kyoshi said. 

Granted, that is a lie, but she really didn't know what else to say that's a polite statement. Whenever Kyoshi goes into town with a bare face, many do not make the connection despite her rather noticeable height.

“What? You’re Avatar Kyoshi? Really?” Chari blurted out. 

Oh, this is going to be a long meeting.

“Yes, I am,” Kyoshi nodded.

“I didn't realize you were hiding freckles under all that makeup. You wear them well,” Nao smiled. 

Is Kyoshi drunk? Did somebody slip her something when she wasn't paying attention? What in all Four Nations is happening right now? They must want something from her if they're being this nice.

“I think we need to get started with this meeting,” Jinpa rushed out hastily. It was almost as if he was in a panic. Odd.

“Of course. Please, start us off. Your voice is quite soothing, Avatar Kyoshi,” Akira smiled, chin resting in the palm of her left hand.

Kyoshi actually thinks she’s experiencing whiplash right now. In past meetings, when the discussion gets opened up on a subject, the nobles immediately try arguing for their side. It takes ages for them to be willing to hear Kyoshi out. Something is so wrong here. It's best to ignore that compliment for now.

The more the negotiations progressed, the weirder everything got. The three nobles, mainly Akira, kept blatantly sucking up to her by praising everything she did. While it's true her reputation has improved as the Avatar the past couple years, it certainly wasn't enough to warrant this kind of reaction.

Even one of the people on her side was acting strange. Jinpa, who's usually a man of patience and serenity, seemed very antsy to move things along. He would often try to steer the conversation away from the nobles when their compliments became too excessive.

Rangi was the only one who was making sense right now. As per usual, she took her role as a bodyguard very seriously. She stood there, stoic as a statue, ready to defend Kyoshi should any dangers arise.

Kyoshi stole a quick glance at her girl to find her looking ever so slightly more irritated than usual. Who can blame her, honestly? Kyoshi wants this to be over just as much as Rangi does.

About one hour in and Kyoshi is bored out of her mind. She propped her chin on the palm of her left hand. It's really not proper etiquette and she might get scolded for it later, but Kyoshi is not at a point where she cares. She then felt an itch on her nose, so she used her right hand to scratch it.

Akira was speaking like she always did, but her voice died down when she took a good look at Kyoshi's hands. This woman literally could not get any more strange.

“Is something the matter, Lady Akira?" Kyoshi asked.

"Apologies, Avatar Kyoshi. I hope I did not offend you, I was simply caught off guard. You just have the most beautiful hands," Akira said earnestly.

Did Jinpa squeak? Huh.

Well, Kyoshi had to fight the urge to laugh. Man, they are really grasping at straws here. She must have run out of things to stroke Kyoshi's ego about. The Avatar is well aware of the state of her hands. Beauty is not on the list.

"Please, no need to fill my head with empty compliments," Kyoshi insisted.

"I assure you, my compliments are nothing but sincere. You have the most wonderful hands I've ever seen," Akira said seriously.

Huh, weird. It honestly did seem like the noblewoman was telling the truth. Maybe she is. It could very well be that she's borderline insane, but that's not really the topic here.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but my hands are pretty banged up with all the scars. Consequences of those battles, I suppose," Kyoshi awkwardly laughed in order to lighten the mood.

"The way I see it, the scars you adorn are a testament to your bravery and honor. Courageous is the most beautiful thing a person can be," Akira said. Her two noble goons nodded their agreement.

She had to admit, Kyoshi feels moved. It's no wonder Akira is the spokesman of the group. That is a noblewoman who really knows how to sweet talk a girl. She did wonder why Jinpa squeaked again, though.

Okay, Kyoshi needs to think this through. The odd behavior of the three nobles is a mystery Kyoshi has the desperate urge to crack. The compliments, the pleasantries, the agreeability, there has to be a reason why.

Seeing the three Fire Nation nobles stare at her scars with that look in their eyes made the answer hit Kyoshi like a boulder. Finally, the Avatar understood the out of character actions. Those three are absolutely terrified of her.

It all made perfect sense. Scars in general can look pretty scary. Not only does Kyoshi have a rather large amount of them, the implications of what she experienced also must be freaking out the nobles. The scars show that Kyoshi has lived through much more powerful and intimidating foes than the ones who sit before her. It's visual proof that Kyoshi is the strongest person in this room. And they're terrified of that.

It has to be why Akira made such a point to compliment them. She's well aware of the battles Kyoshi fought to gain her scars.

The makeup and gloves were hiding the scars which must be why the nobles haven't seemed scared of her until now. Turns out, Kyoshi just had her approach all wrong. They did not fear scary makeup or a tall stature, they fear scars and Kyoshi's true face.

Their behavior makes complete sense now.

It's probably wrong that Kyoshi is so excited that she finally found a way to scare these people. They have been grating on her nerves for weeks and she finally has the upper hand. The Avatar is in full control now.

Kyoshi is absolutely going to milk this.

"It feels as though we've been stuck in this room for ages. It's getting quite hot in here," Kyoshi lied.

With that, the Avatar rolled up her sleeves where even more scars decorated her arms. Kyoshi was even bold enough to undo her collar a touch to reveal the scar on her neck. She snapped open one of her fans and fluttered it to gently brush against the neck scar.

Her actions had the desired effect. All three nobles immediately began intensely studying Kyoshi's scars, especially the one on her neck. They were red, evidently nervous, and now incapable of looking her in the eye. They finally feel terrified by Kyoshi. This is a memory she will cherish for years to come.

Kyoshi saw Rangi in her peripheral vision sitting with crossed arms and a deep scowl. The Avatar felt as though she was beaming with pride. Of course Rangi caught onto the fact that Kyoshi is working on her intimidation tactic and is playing the role of scary bodyguard to add to it. Rangi is just so smart.

"Avatar Kyoshi! Would you like me to, uh, open up some windows? I had no idea you were feeling so hot," Jinpa nervously rushed out.

"Please do," Kyoshi smiled.

Jinpa nodded and hurriedly opened up a couple windows as Kyoshi put her fan back at her side. She did what she needed to do to strike fear in their hearts.

"I must say, Avatar Kyoshi, you wield your fans as though they're part of you. It's quite impressive. You have very skilled hands," Nao pointed out.

"Well, I'm sure you've heard of the other things my hands can do, haven't you?" Kyoshi asked with narrowed eyes.

If her reputation precedes her, then stories resembling her scuffle with Xu Ping An would have certainly reached the Fire Nation. She would make it very clear that compliments should not distract from how truly terrifying Kyoshi really is.

"I, well yes. Many have heard stories of your, um, abilities," Nao rushed out.

"Many stories indeed," Akira mumbled.

Chari just sat there looking like an imbecile. Kyoshi wasn't really expecting much else from the lump.

"Alright, I'm going to cut to the chase. What is it that you want from me?" Kyoshi asked in a low voice to add to her intimidation.

Obviously, for them to be this scared of her, she must also have some kind of leverage they need. Apparently, Kyoshi would have to wait to find out.

"Avatar Kyoshi, I insist upon a recess at once!" Jinpa practically shrieked while standing up.

Everyone in the room was visibly shocked at the monk's outburst except for Rangi. Kyoshi's never known the man to raise his voice in such a manner, especially not in a meeting like this one. Whatever had Jinpa so panicked must be important.

"Of course. You don't mind a small break, do you?" Kyoshi grinned, knowing damn well they won't say no to her.

"Please, take all the time you need. We'll wait as long as it takes," Akira managed to rush out.

Hah, the annoying noble still looks flustered. Kyoshi could not be happier. They finally fear her. It feels so good to win.

Kyoshi left the room, quickly followed by Rangi and Jinpa. Once the door closed behind them, Rangi grabbed Kyoshi's arm and pulled her to the left.

"Make sure we're not followed, Jinpa," was all Rangi muttered out.

"Y-yes of course," Jinpa hastily agreed.

"Rangi, what's-" Kyoshi started to say.

"One more word and I'm putting you into horse stance for so long your successor will feel it," Rangi hissed.

Okay, so clearly she's not happy. Kyoshi can't imagine why though. That meeting is going spectacularly. The nobles are significantly more cooperative, they actually listen to what Kyoshi has to say, and they're now willing to give into her demands. She can't understand what Rangi could possibly be so upset about.

Maybe Kyoshi didn't notice something during the discussions? Is it possible the Fire Nation nobles are playing her and Rangi is going to let her know? It's certainly not the first time Kyoshi has made a major blunder like that. There really wasn't much time to contemplate this because in less than a minute the two women apparently arrived at their destination.

The spot Rangi led her to was a tiny hallway that had a single window at the end of it but nothing else. There are no doors or chairs, so no one really spends much time in this area of the building. This is a very interesting spot to talk about any potential issues from the meeting.

Kyoshi looked at Rangi and raised an eyebrow, still very unwilling to speak in risk of horse stance punishment. Rangi didn't say anything. No she did not. Instead, she yanked on Kyoshi's collar and crashed their lips together. Before she even had time to blink, Rangi had pinned her against the wall of the tiny hallway.

Is that what Kyoshi was expecting to happen? It most certainly was not. Is Kyoshi mad about it? She most certainly is not.

Kyoshi quickly put one hand on Rangi's shoulder while the other cupped the back of Rangi's neck to deepen the kiss. The bodyguard moved on from kissing her lips to slowly trail her mouth down Kyoshi's neck.

"There's other ways to rile me up, you know," Rangi mumbled into her skin.

That is something that Kyoshi will be noting for later. Especially if this is the result.

The Avatar gasped as Rangi began pressing hot kisses on the scar at the base of her neck. A low moan rumbled from Kyoshi's throat against her will. Fuck, that firebender knew exactly what she was doing. Rangi knows Kyoshi's body like the back of her hand.

Therefore, she knows that kissing Kyoshi's neck scar will automatically turn her on. Kyoshi can feel herself getting wetter by the second. Her cunt began clenching around nothing, practically begging to be stimulated.

That's when she felt Rangi's hand slowly creep down to the very top of her long skirt. Then, her fingertips ever so slightly went beneath the skirt where Kyoshi's underwear resided.

Holy shit. Is Rangi trying to do what Kyoshi thinks she's trying to do? Now? Of all the times?

"Rangi, we have a meeting," Kyoshi gasped.

"Just say the word and I'll stop," Rangi whispered into her ear.

A better Avatar would be able to resist. A better Avatar would be able to tell their girlfriend it's a bad idea to have sex when they're in the middle of an important meeting.

It would appear that Kyoshi is not a better Avatar.

"We need to be quick," Kyoshi hissed.

"Well who am I to defy the Avatar?" Rangi grinned.

With that, Rangi's hands slipped past the waistband and lightly brushed against Kyoshi's clit. The taller woman gasped once more and bit her lip to prevent the sound from coming out.

"Fuck, Kyoshi. I've barely even touched you," Rangi mumbled lowly.

The poor Avatar didn't even have time to respond before one of Rangi's fingers slowly entered her. Kyoshi gasped and clenched tightly around her finger. It's when Rangi started slowly moving her finger that Kyoshi let out a high pitch whine.

Embarrassingly enough, Kyoshi's always been rather vocal during sex. This really is not the time to be vocal.

"You know I love the sounds you make, but unless you want those Fire Nations nobles to see the Avatar getting fucked by her bodyguard, you're gonna need to be quiet for me," Rangi smirked.

The prospect of that scenario playing out is enough for Kyoshi's entire body temperature to increase. It's just not fair how sexy her girlfriend is or how her melodic voice gets Kyoshi all riled up.

The Avatar had gotten so wet that Rangi had no issues slipping a second finger inside of her. Kyoshi buried her face in Rangi's shoulder to muffle her moans. The way her fingers furiously thrusted inside Kyoshi brought her closer and closer to her breaking point.

While Rangi continued to fuck Kyoshi with her fingers, the bodyguard decided to continue her onslaught of kisses on the side of Kyoshi's neck. The sensation made the Avatar so weak in the knees that she's basically leaning on Rangi for support.

Kyoshi knew she wouldn't last much longer. Rangi's fingers were relentless and every spot her lips touched set Kyoshi's skin on fire. Then Rangi's fingers hit that perfect sweet spot that made Kyoshi want to cry out from pure bliss. The firebender's precise fingers hit that same spot over and over again, causing Kyoshi to arch into Rangi, desperate to be as close as possible to her.

Once Rangi's thumb began hastily circling Kyoshi's clit, it was over for her. The Avatar had to physically bite her lip to prevent her moan from coming out as she finally reached her climax. Evidence of Kyoshi's wetness was coated over Rangi's fingers as she slowly pulled them out of her. Rangi made direct eye contact with her as she licked Kyoshi's arousal right from her own fingers. Kyoshi's face burned at the sight.

Kyoshi was too busy reeling from her orgasm to mentally process the fact that Rangi had dropped to her knees. The bodyguard began to slowly lift up Kyoshi's shirt. The Avatar's eyes widened when she realized Rangi was not, in fact, done with her yet.

"Do you think you have one more left in you?" Rangi asked.

"No Rangi, we need to get back to the negotiations where literal nobility is waiting for us!"

Is what Kyoshi WOULD have said if she wasn't such a whore.

"Rangi please," Kyoshi begged in reality.

The Fire Nation woman grinned and threw Kyoshi's right leg over Rangi's shoulder while the other leg stayed planted firmly on the ground. Rangi rolled up Kyoshi's skirt to her waist.

"Be a good girl and hold this for me," Rangi whispered.

It was like Kyoshi's body had a mind of its own with how quickly she fulfilled such a command. Kyoshi used both hands to keep her skirt up as Rangi moved the Avatar's underwear to the side. Now her bodyguard got a full view of Kyoshi's aching cunt.

"Your pussy is just as pretty as you are," Rangi praised.

Kyoshi blushed at such a sincere and lewd compliment. A split second later, Rangi's mouth made contact where Kyoshi needed it most. The Avatar couldn't help but allow a low moan to slip out.

Rangi dragged her tongue along Kyoshi's entrance. Yet again, the Avatar had to bite her lip to stop any noises of pleasure from coming out. The bodyguard decided to focus on giving Kyoshi light kisses onto her clit before starting to suck it.

Kyoshi's pants and muffled moans increased as she was being brought closer to the edge in absolutely no time. The first orgasm already made her incredibly sensitive, she would come to her peak much faster now.

Rangi's tongue began circling faster around Kyoshi's clit in a way that made her vision blur. Kyoshi began helplessly grinding her cunt against Rangi's face to get even more stimulation as fast as possible. It all felt too good. Rangi is just too good.

Once again, the bodyguard has to essentially hold up Kyoshi's entire bodyweight. The way her tongue makes Kyoshi feel is just so intense she can barely think. Thank the spirits for the wall behind her.

Rangi's skilled tongue brings Kyoshi closer and closer to her breaking point. Kyoshi's hands squeezed her skirt as she felt herself approach her release. The bodyguard's hands gripped Kyoshi's thighs as she continued eating her out. Finally, finally, Kyoshi got to experience the sweet release she had been craving. For a second time, that is.

Kyoshi really couldn't stop herself from letting a breathy moan escape her lips. Rangi pulled back with Kyoshi's wetness all over her face. The Avatar blushed as Rangi had to pull out a small handkerchief from her pocket to clean herself from the mess Kyoshi made.

With the same amount of care one would use to handle a delicate vase, Rangi gently moved Kyoshi's leg off her shoulder. Kyoshi pouted, feeling the warmth of her girl leave her, but dropped her skirt once her underwear was readjusted.

Rangi finally stood up and peppered Kyoshi's face with light, playful kisses. The Avatar giggled as her touch began to tickle.

"We really should get back to the negotiations meeting," Rangi sighed while pulling away.

"Wait, what about you?" Kyoshi asked.

Kyoshi does her best to be a good girlfriend. It's only natural she'd want to return the favor.

"Don't worry about me. Knowing you came on my face was more than enough satisfaction. For now, at least," Rangi grinned.

Kyoshi blushed brightly and looked away from her lover's gaze. It always sounds so much more dirty saying it out loud than when they actually do it.

"Rangi?" Kyoshi asked once she felt her blush die down.

Rangi hummed in response. Kyoshi smiled and gave Rangi a quick but intense kiss.

"I love you," Kyoshi smiled.

At once, it was as though every hard exterior Rangi possessed automatically softened. It was a statement they both already knew, but it was always so good to say.

"I love you, too. Let's go, Jinpa's probably having a heart attack as we speak," Rangi said.

Kyoshi nodded and followed her girl back to the meeting room. Jinpa looked at them in pure relief once he saw them again.

"Everything okay you two? What took you guys so long?" Jinpa asked.

"Oh, we're perfectly fine. Just had to tend to the Avatar's needs," Rangi shrugged.

Kyoshis misses her makeup so much. She had to hold her fan in front of her face to hide the red blush spreading all over it. This meeting needs to be over five minutes ago. How is Kyoshi supposed to survive when the love of her life does things like this?

Please, for the love of all that is good in this life and the next, let this damned meeting end quickly.

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

The rest of the meeting went surprisingly well and without a hitch. All that was left to do was finalize the paperwork tomorrow and they would be out of Kyoshi's hair. Thank the spirits for that.

Now that the day is over, Kyoshi has the opportunity to have even more sex with her girlfriend. Life truly is good.

Once the Fire Nation nobles left the premises, Kysohi turned to her girl and gave her a smile of pure relief. The relief of finally being done with the most grueling task imaginable, talking to other people. Usually, Rangi returned her smile. Instead, the firebender simply pursed her lips and avoided Kyoshi's face.

Is she feeling okay? Rangi seemed distracted, which is very unlike her. Maybe all the recent negotiations have been getting to her?

"We need to talk," was all Rangi said before walking back into their home.

In no universe is the phrase 'we need to talk' a good thing to hear from the woman you're dating. Kyoshi felt like she was walking to the gallows as she followed Rangi back to their shared bedroom. Once they reached said room, Kyoshi sat on the edge of the bed. Rangi did not sit beside her. Instead, she chose to stand right in front of her.

Well now Kyoshi is slightly terrified for their relationship. She simply waited for the bodyguard to speak.

"Look, next time you use such a tactic to get your way in negotiations, at least warn me first. I realize sometimes a more, unconventional approach is necessary, but I was completely blind sided," Rangi frowned

"What are you talking about? That was the most conventional strategy," Kyoshi replied, very confused.

Intimidation tactics in general are very common to use. In fact, Kyoshi would say it's her favorite tactic of all time. How she loves striking fear into people's hearts.

Yikes, it sounded really bad when she put it that way.

"You're kidding me, right? There's absolutely nothing conventional about what happened back there!" Rangi snapped, voice laced with hurt.

Kyoshi has no idea why Rangi is so upset. Could it be Kyoshi had done something to offend her?

"Look, I honestly don't understand why you're so upset. I did what I always do. I scare the life out of them, they give us what we want. Simple math," Kyoshi insisted.

Rangi did not look amused at all.

"Scared them? You're claiming to have scared them? You have to be joking," Rangi scoffed.

"Uh, no. No I'm not," Kyoshi honestly told her.

Rangi stared at her for a moment before her entire expression changed.

"Holy shit, you're not joking," Rangi mumbled.

"Why would I?" Kyoshi asked with a raised eyebrow.

Rangi merely continued to stare at her for a moment. Then, she buried her face in her hands. She let out a strangled, almost choking sound and Kyoshi feared her girl was crying. Then she looked up and found Rangi laughing.

The fuck is so funny?

"I could not be more lost right now," Kyoshi bluntly stated.

Rangi, still laughing her ass off, walked over and sat next to Kyoshi on the bed. Once she was finished with her little giggles, Rangi let out a long, drawn out sigh.

"Spirits, I fell in love with a moron," Rangi said.

"I mean, you're probably not wrong, but why?" Kyoshi exclaimed.

She is just so confused. For once, Kyoshi thought she knew what she was doing!

"I swear, you're denser than the rocks you bend. Kyoshi, those nobles weren't scared of you, they were flirting with you," Rangi told her.

Kyoshi blinked twice. Then immediately rolled her eyes. That's what she thought was going on? Seriously?

"C'mon Rangi, there's no way. I think I would know if I was getting hit on," Kyoshi drawled.

"I had a crush on you for two years before you confessed," Rangi very rudely reminded her.

"That's true, but be realistic Rangi. I'm well aware of what I look like," Kyoshi scoffed.

"Believe me, so am I. What exactly are you trying to say?" Rangi glared.

Boy, her girl is not going to like this one. Along with being the Avatar's bodyguard, it was Rangi's life mission to build Kyoshi's confidence. The Avatar never really excelled in that department.

"No need for the looks, Rangi. It's not like I think I'm some hideous troll or anything. But, well, I'm crazy tall and have a lot of scars. It's not exactly an ideal look. Neither are the freckles, I've come to learn. Besides, it's like you said. I had nice hands before they got all scarred, but now," Kyoshi sighed while trailing off.

Rangi frowned before holding both of Kyoshi's hands in her own. She soothingly rubbed her thumbs against the back of Kyoshi's hands.

"I'm sorry I made you feel as though a part of you was undesirable. That's really not what I was trying to say. I've always found your hands pretty, I just conveyed my feelings poorly. I admit, I have very complicated feelings about your scars," Rangi sighed.

She thinks that deep down, Kyoshi knew that already. Unfortunately, her self esteem has never really been sky high. Hearing Rangi say those words out loud was a bigger comfort than Kyoshi thought it would be.

"Oh? Like what?" Kyoshi asked curiously.

"On one hand, I hate that you had to experience so much pain. They're reminders that I wasn't able to protect you. You never deserved such horrible treatment. But on the other hand," Rangi said. "Spirits, Kyoshi, your scars are so attractive. The way they decorate your skin makes you look like a damn masterpiece. It's like lightning running across your body. I've never seen anyone so beautiful."

Rangi was staring at Kyoshi with so much love that it actually stole the air from her lungs. Immediately, the Avatar's cheeks were burning so badly they had to resemble the deep red of a fire lily.

"So you think I'm attractive," Kyoshi mumbled with a dopey grin.

Rangi gave her a look and lightly kicked her leg. Kyoshi let out a small giggle at her girlfriend's action.

"Of course I think you're attractive, you big oaf. We are in a romantic relationship," Rangi snorted.

Kyoshi giggled and pressed a small kiss atop Rangi's forehread. Her girl blushed a bit before leaning her head on Kyoshi's shoulder.

"You know, in the Fire Nation, scars really are considered to be a very beautiful addition to the human body. I hate to agree with that stupid Akiko or whatever, but your scars are so pretty. They're like little trophies of battles you survived. Let me tell you, they'd have gone ballistic if they knew about your stretch marks. They're a sign of growth and health back. Just another part of you so attractive it drives me insane," Rangi told her.

Kyoshi blushed once more at the mention of said marks. Her stretch marks mainly littered around her breasts and thighs. Now that Kyoshi thinks about it, Rangi's always given them special attention.

"Also, fuck Yokoya beauty standards. I adore your freckles. The jackass nobles certainly did too," Rangi huffed.

Kyoshi giggled and kissed her girl's nose. Then, realization dawned on her.

"Oh spirits, does that mean me showing off my scars," Kyoshi trailed off.

"Yeah, you were basically seducing them. It was very effective," Rangi confirmed.

"That's so humiliating! Now everything I threatened just sounds sexual!" Kyoshi groaned while flopping on the bed.

Rangi laughed and laid down next to her. Kyoshi adjusted herself so that they were eye level. Spirits, Rangi has the prettiest eyes.

"That may or may not be why I dragged you out of the meeting. I get that people flirt with you, I do. But it just seemed like you were flirting back this time," Rangi admitted quietly.

Kyoshi frowned at the realization that it definitely seemed like she was flirting. She cringed remembering the comment about what her hands had done. That really sounds sexual and Kyoshi absolutely hates it.

"I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to," Kyoshi honestly told her.

"Now I know you didn't. I'm not upset since you were unaware. I guess I just got too jealous. I wasn't too much during that meeting, was I? I hope I didn't pressure you into anything," Rangi worriedly stated.

It shouldn't be possible to be this in love with someone, yet here Kyoshi is. The amount of love she has for Rangi is far too much to be contained in this world.

"Of course I wanted everything you gave me. I'll sleep good tonight knowing that my stoic, calm, and collected bodyguard fucked me in the middle of a negotiations meeting because she was jealous," Kyoshi teased.

Rangi groaned and playfully shoved Kyoshi's shoulder. The Avatar merely laughed and scooted closer to her.

"You're not the only one who gets jealous, you know. I swear countless people have tried hitting on you. I never feel too upset about it because you shut them down so quickly it baffles them," Kyoshi smiled.

Rangi merely kissed Kyoshi on the lips in response. Kyoshi was more than happy to feel her love's lips on her once more.

"I still can't believe you didn't notice, they were being so obvious about it. I really shouldn't be surprised. Not like this is the first time you were flirted with and were completely oblivious," Rangi sighed.

"What? What other times are there?" Kyoshi frowned.

"My point exactly. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about," Rangi teased as she kissed her cheek.

Kyoshi just smiled and observed Rangi's face for a moment. Truly, has there ever been a more beautiful woman? Kyoshi doubts it.

The Avatar was going to change the subject and suggest the two get a quick nap in, but stopped herself. There's just one detail that still doesn't make sense about today.

"Oh, quick question. Do you know what was up with Jinpa during the meeting? I've never seen him so antsy," Kyoshi asked.

Rangi's face turned bright red and she avoided Kyoshi's gaze. It took her a couple moments, but Rangi finally gave her an answer.

"That was unfortunately my fault. I'm not as calm and collected as I look. Seeing someone flirt with my girlfriend kind of makes me seethe with rage. When they started hitting on you, I thought I was gripping the chair but I was really digging into Jinpa's arm. He told me it was fine so pretty much every time you were hit on, I squeezed his arm. I'm pretty sure I ended up burning it at some point. So, uh, please remind me to apologize to him tomorrow," Rangi sheepishly told her.

Wow.

"Between the two of us, that poor bastard needs the biggest raise in all Four Nations."

"Agreed."

[hussyknee]

Red, White & Royal Blue: Collector's Edition Henry PoV bonus chapter by Casey Mcquiston.

(transcribed from the page pictures posted)

This is the coda to the end of the book, so don't read it if you haven't read the book first. Sadly, the Collector's Edition doesn't seem to be available on Kindle so. Arrrr matey.

Download link for file at the end.

....

HENRY

“I am not asking you to believe in it, or even to like it,” Henry says stonily. It’s been a long morning already. He is beginning to perspire. “I am simply asking you to show a modicum of respect.”

“To–to your quiche?”

“Yes. To my quiche.”

Bea puts down her tape gun and wipes her eyes. “Pez!”

“Yes?”

“Henry says he’s going to make us a quiche!”

Pez’s squawk of a laugh bounces down the stairs. “Pull the other one!”

“I make them all the time for Alex,” Henry insists. “They are perfectly edible.”

“So, when you promised us breakfast if we got up early to help you.” Bea says, “you meant that you were going to make us breakfast?”

“Yes!” Henry says hotly. “Stop laughing!”

“I’m sorry!” Bea says. “It’s only that...well, Henry, the last time you cooked breakfast for me, you were twelve and you put a sausage in the microwave until it exploded.”

“That was your idea! And it’s been ages since then! I’ve studied, all right? I’m quite good now. Those pictures I send the group chat aren’t just for show.”

“Oh, aren’t they?” Bea says rudely, as if his incredibly generous offer to cook her a shallot-and-thyme quiche with mushrooms from the farmer’s market means nothing at all. As if he’s lived in this house for five entire years without learning to use its kitchen.

Perhaps if their lives weren’t so chaotic, if Henry weren’t flying out of New York every time Bea had a spare moment to fly in, he could have proven this to her earlier. But Pez, who lives mostly in the city now and visits so frequently he’s earned his own Secret Service code name (Cardinal, since Henry is Bishop), should know better.

“Percy Okonjo,” Henry says as Pez joins them, “you were here last weekend when I made mince pie. You loved it.”

“Did I?” Pez wonders aloud, with an annoyingly Bea-like lilt.

“Look at this apron!” Henry gestures to himself and the navy blue apron he’s wearing. Alex gave it to him for his birthday last year. “Would a man who can’t make a quiche have an apron like this? It’s monogrammed.”

“You’re royalty, babes,” Pez points out. “Everything you own is monogrammed.”

From the pocket of his serious-home-cook apron, his phone buzzes. Reinforcements. The FaceTime connects, and Alex says, “Good morning, love of my li–”

“Alex,” Henry interrupts, “tell them about my quiches.”

Alex pushes up his sunglasses and frowns into the camera. He looks so lovely with his faded T-shirt and jean jacket and shaggy hair. Pure American heartthrob, might as well have a cowboy hat on. Henry never does tire of it.

“Sorry?”

“Bea and Pez don’t believe I can make a quiche.”

“What? Have they seen your apron?”

“That’s what I said!”

“Henry’s quiches are great!” Alex says loudly, to the kitchen at large. “I almost never find shells in them!”

That sets Bea and Pez off again. On the screen, Alex’s face crinkles into laughter.

“Thank you very much, Alex, you’ve been a tremendous help,” Henry groans. “How are things? Florist this morning, wasn’t it?”

“Just finishing up.” Alex says with a grin. “Final approvals done. Everything looks great.”

With only one week until moving day and two until the wedding, it made sense to divide and conquer. Henry agreed to stay in New York and finish packing up the brownstone with help from Bea and Pez, while Alex, June, and Nora are ticking off the last of their checklists in Texas.

“Of all the surprises that wedding planning has brought us,” Henry says, “your ability to micromanage floral arrangements has certainly been...one of them.”

“You know I love to curate a vibe,” Alex says.

“That you do,” Henry agrees. “Where are the girls?”

“Getting donuts,” Pez answers before Alex can. He holds up his phone, open to a photo of June blowing a kiss while Nora fellates an éclair.

“Donuts!” Bea says. “Now there’s an idea!”

They spend the rest of the day drowning in cardboard boxes and bin liners, packing everything but the furniture and the downstairs television. Pez reminds him once an hour that they could pay someone to do this, but Bea is stubborn, and Henry is reluctant to let anyone else wade into all the intimate trappings of his and Alex’s life. It was bad enough explaining the contents of the trick drawer in their dresser to Pez, much less some mover he’s never met.

When it’s done, Bea puts A Knight’s Tale on in the living room and promptly falls asleep on Pez’s lap. Pez passes out too, but Henry stays awake, because Heath Ledger deserves an audience. And because he knows if he doesn't wake Bea and move her to the guest bedroom, he'll have to hear about her back spasms in the morning.

David hops up beside him on the loveseat, and Henry strokes the top of his snout until his little body relaxes into Henry's side.

"Nervous old boy," Henry hums. It still does seem like the ultimate irony that the dog he adopted for emotional support has anxiety. David has grown more and more worried all week, as more and more of his home disappeared into boxes. "We won't leave you, I promise."

The brownstone has been a good house for them. Sturdy brick walls, neighbors that actually let them be. Henry has loved it more than he ever loved Kensington, or at least as much as he loved Kensington when his parents both lived there too. Some mornings, when he comes downstairs to find Alex with the coffeepot and the kettle already on, he feels the way he did when his family all slept under one roof. This roof is quite a bit smaller than that one, but the feeling isn't.

So, perhaps David hasn't got entirely the wrong idea. It is hard to let the place go. For the past month, Alex has kept asking Henry why he's staring, and the truth is that he's been committing to memory exactly how Alex looks in every room. How the bannister fits in his hand, the place on the foyer wall where he always braces himself to pull on his shoes.

Everything that's happened in the past five years has happened, at least in part, inside this house.

…

It's seven months after Alex's mother's second inauguration, and Henry is wishing he had never even heard the word "credenza." Then he wouldn't have to decide where to put one. Alex is arriving in half an hour to help him move it, but Henry still doesn't know where. Across from the fireplace, perhaps? But what if he wants to put a sofa there? Does he want a regular sofa, or a sectional? Should it go upstairs, in his study? Or should he leave room for bookcases?

He longs to be back on a beach, sipping something from a pineapple.

It’s been a long, glorious summer since Alex packed up his White House bedroom, called Henry, and asked, "Do you want to get the fuck off the continent?" They did Dubai first, then Lagos. Rio, for old time's sake. Buenos Aires, paper lanterns in moonlight and Alex flirting with the bartender for free drinks. June through August became a lovely blur: Alex asleep against his shoulder on the plane, Alex throwing his Portuguese phrase book out the window of a speeding car, sand in unmentionable places, Alex Alex Alex. Endless runways and half-arsed disguises, swimsuits that got smaller and smaller until they simply didn't wear them anymore. Falling in love, the sequel, with fresh suntans and all the time in the world.

And now here they are in Park Slope, where Alex is renting the second floor of a brownstone two blocks from Henry's.

It's practical, they agreed, to live in the same neighborhood before they live at the same address. They've scarcely gotten a chance to date the normal way yet– if it can be called "normal" when their combined security teams are headquartered in an empty apartment down the street. Still, Henry wants this to last.

They've sprinted headlong into everything so far, but now he wants move slowly, in delicious increments. He wants to savor nights, minutes, firsts, to covet them and then let them dissolve on his tongue, like the sugar cubes he snuck off his gran's filigreed tea trays when he was small. He wants a life.

He wants someone to tell him where to put this damned credenza.

It's a vintage Broyhill Brasilia piece, walnut with clever brass drawer pulls. June helped him pick it out when she was in town with meeting her editor, but she never gave him any advice on where it should go. He hasn't ever been allowed to decide where furniture should go before.

So, it’s...there, in the center of the empty living room, the first piece in the entire house.

“Maybe you could start with a rug or two,” says Alex from the foyer.

Henry turns to find him with his keys in one hand and a paper bag in the other, smiling in a beam of mid-morning light, and, ah. Yes. There it is. That sweet, sharp gasp of nerves. The half second when he forgets how to use his mouth. If he knows nothing else, at least one certainty remains, which is that seeing Alex Claremont-Diaz in the flesh will always do this to him.

Alex in a photo is handsome, but Alex in life is a symphony. He’s refracted light with a cherry cola chaser. He’s got a Fibonacci jawline and a troublemaker smile and thick forearms built for posing in doorways with his sleeves rolled and thumbing corks out of champagne bottles. The first time Henry ever told Pez about him, he said, “God, but he’s lethal.” It’s only worse once you get to know him.

“Weird place for a credenza,” Alex comments. He kisses Henry’s cheek, then passes him a warm bundle wrapped in parchment paper. “Hope you like sausage-egg-and-cheese.”

“I don’t know where to put it.”

“Sandwich goes in your mouth, typically.”

“The credenza.”

“Ohhh, right,” Alex says, pretending to have just caught on. He winks. Henry sighs theatrically but accepts a second kiss, on the lips this time. “Why don’t you just put it right here?”

He points to his left, where a blank wall stretches from the front door to the foot of the stairs. It does, upon closer inspection, appear to be the exact right size.

“Oh,” Henry says.

This is where they overlap. Where he ends and Alex begins. Great gooey puddle of feelings, meet course of action; endless burning energy, meet point of focus. Agonies, meet your most obvious, most natural, most inevitable conclusions. It’s frightening sometimes for a person like Henry, who has spent his entire life pedaling his agonies about like baguettes in a posh little bicycle basket. What is he to do with them now?

Yes," Henry concedes, "I suppose I could," and Alex laughs.

...

It's the summer of 2022. Henry has opened his third shelter, and Alex has just finished bulldozing his first year at NYU Law.

A few boxes of books still wait at Alex's place, but otherwise, he lives in Henry's brownstone now. Their brownstone. A UT pennant beside a Chelsea scarf on the living room wall. A fridge full of Topo Chico and Bulmers. Two pairs of shoes by the front door, brown Barker derbies and Reebok trainers. Nobody could mistake it for anyone else's.

It's their first Chore Sunday (Alex's idea), and Henry has put the last of the laundry in the dryer. He's in the kitchen doorway, watching Alex unload the dishwasher.

Alex once told Henry the type of man he's typically attracted to: tall, broad-shouldered, pretty eyes, a little haunted. Bit of attitude and a smile that makes you curious. For Henry, it's never been so simple. He liked boys in his classes because they bothered with the assigned readings and fancied one of Philip's awful Eton friends because he could sail and smelled of cinnamon. The only thing all his Oxford boys had in common was that they didn't know how to speak to him. He's never had a type, and he's always been sure Alex was singular, anyway. Alex is unlike anyone he's ever met before or since.

But here, now, watching Alex bend to remove a salad bowl from the bottom rack, he is confronted with the hard truth. All those boys did, actually, share one trait.

"Are you gonna help me with this," Alex says without even an investigatory glance over his shoulder, "or are you just gonna keep staring at my ass?"

...

It’s Christmas 2022, their first since Alex officially moved in, and Henry is going to make a yule log if it kills him.

Perhaps he’s been too ambitious. He’s rather new to all. Growing up, he was rarely permitted in the kitchens, and he concentrated his uni diet on fast food and takeaway. He can make toast and boil an egg, and he’s got a deft hand with the coffee percolator and a gin swizzle from time to time. He knows about food– the finest foods, actually, he’s yet to meet an Englishman who can select a better brie– but he never learned to cook, until recently.

Recently, as in when Alex became too fanatically involved in his second-year coursework to remember to feed himself.

It began with force-feeding Alex a bacon butty twice a week. Henry’s arms suffered little constellations of grease burns, but bacon was easy. And those faded, so they didn’t deter him for long. Curiosity piqued, he taught himself the basics of pasta, how one can simmer almost anything with garlic and onion and butter and it will taste good over noodles. It bolstered his confidence enough to truly commit, and now, between hours at the shelters and video calls with his mum, he watches tutorial after tutorial on how to brown butter and roast chicken. Only half of what he makes turns out the color it’s meant to, but he loves it.

He loves walking to the market on the corner and hunting down specific ingredients from the family recipes June sends him. In fact, it’s become such a regular pastime that the paparazzi have cottoned on, which is why his mother finally forced his security team to hire an actual body double. Now some bloke named Angus with his height and build and nearly the same face goes on diversionary strolls while Henry peruses jarred chilies.

With all his independent studying, he was certain he could manage a dessert. He wanted to do something impressive, since they’ve convinced their families to let them host Christmas dinner. Only, his sponge has gone all wrong, and if he’s learned anything from Bake Off, he knows it’s not meant to have cracked in five places when he tried to roll it up. Paul Hollywood would have him pilloried.

“Think you might’ve left it in too long?” Oscar asks from across the kitchen island. He’s wearing his white elephant prize, a sweatshirt airbrushed with the slogan YOU CAN’T SPELL CONSTITUTION WITHOUT TITS. Inexplicably, Henry’s own mother brought that one. “Lookin’ kinda dry there.”

“I appreciate that you are trying to be helpful,” Henry enunciates, “but if you say one more word I may start crying, and then we’ll both lose some respect for me.”

Later, when Pez has persuaded him to “call it, mate, put it out of its misery,” he carries his disgraced platter of ganache and cake and marzipan out into the living room and lets everyone go at it with spoons. The house feels full to bursting, and not just because of the Christmas crackers. There are all three of Alex’s parents, Henry’s mum, June and Nora, Bea and Pez, Shaan and Zahra on speakerphone, occasionally an awkward Philip and Martha via FaceTime, and, because he had nowhere else to go for the holiday, Angus.

(“I don’t like him,” Alex muttered when Henry suggested inviting his own body double to Christmas dinner.

“Why not?”

“Because he looks exactly like you, but I find him deeply unattractive, and that freaks me out.”)

Ellen tells everyone the story of the year Alex got his first real bike for Christmas and knocked out his two front teeth by Boxing Day, which prompts Catherine to recite eight-year-old Henry’s letter to Father Christmas, in which he requested a leather-bound journal and a holiday to East Wittering so he could gaze at the sea. Bea pushes Henry behind the upright piano, and he takes requests for an hour. It only ends when Pez rewrites half the lyrics to “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen” to be about his own lactose intolerance. No one wants to follow “tidings of Lactaid and soy.”

After the third round of mulled wine, when Alex’s parents have called their drivers and his mum has retired to the guest room, June and Nora find themselves under the mistletoe. Everyone whoops and whistles until Nora finally pulls June in by her Christmas-light necklace and kisses her to a round of applause. June's cheeks turn red, but she looks pleased as anything.

"I can't believe it took this long for y'all to finally kiss." Alex says, to which Pez bursts into laughter. "What?"

"Alex," he says fondly. He drains his glass and pecks Alex on the forehead. "You gorgeous, stupid little turnip."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Pez just shakes his head and strolls off to the kitchen.

"Wait," Alex says.

He frowns, like he does when he's trying to recall something incredibly minute and specific from his torts textbook. Then, suddenly, a light goes on, and his own mug is clunking on the lamp table, and he's running off after Pez.

"Pez, what's that supposed to mean?"

...

It's late morning the summer before Alex's last year of law school, 2023, and Alex is the first word out of Henry's mouth.

Truthfully, that's how he begins most mornings. On a Monday morning five time zones away, "Alex" pitched low to the screen of his phone. On a Friday when Alex's early lecture is cancelled, "Alex" in F major, muffled in the pillow as his body moves and the day stretches out before them. Half three the night before an exam, a hoarse "Alex," followed by, "turn the bloody light off and come to bed."

This morning, it's because David is barking at the door. A rainstorm is brewing, and if jet lag didn't have Henry dead under the bedclothes, the gray gloom would. Alex was the one who surfaced from sleep half an hour ago and blearily ordered three entire pancake breakfasts from some 24-hour diner a few neighborhoods over. He should have to get up and answer the door.

“Alex.” Henry mumbles, turning over.

Alex has got the quilt tugged up so high he’s only a shock of wild curls on white linens.

“Nnnghh,” Alex groans from the depths.

“Breakfast is here,” Henry says. The doorbell helpfully rings again. David howls.

Alex’s face appears, pouting. There’s a crease from the pillow down one of his cheekbones, a comet’s tail in a constellation of freckles. “Can you get it?”

Henry rolls his eyes but smiles. Inevitable.

He drags himself out of bed and pulls on the joggers and hoodie from last night’s flight. It’s not until he feels the breeze on his ankles as he descends the stairs that he realizes they’re Alex’s, not his.

On their doorstep, a pink-haired delivery girl is looking bored under her bicycle helmet.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Henry says. He fishes a crumpled bill out of Alex’s pocket. “For your trouble.”

The girl pulls a face.

“Got any real money?” she asks. Her accent reminds him a bit of Alex’s mum.

He blinks down at her hand, which is holding a twenty-pound note. “Ah. Sorry again. Er.” He snatches his wallet out of the bowl on the credenza and gives her all the American dollars he has.

“She’s gone, Davey,” Henry says afterward to David, who’s now fretfully circling the living room. “You’ve protected us from another fearsome home invader. Well done.”

He lets David out into the back garden to do his business, then carries the food upstairs. Shockingly, Alex is awake and propped up against the headboard.

“I’m getting too old for red-eye flights,” Alex says, rubbing his eyes.

“Love, you’re twenty-five,” Henry reminds him. He deposits the bag on the nightstand, and Alex wastes no time tearing through the plastic and tucking in to his breakfast. “And I’m older than you.”

“Yes, you are. But like... I get why we have to go to Philip’s kids’ christenings. The cousins, though?” He sets to work smothering his pancakes in syrup. “I mean, at least my cousins would stack their baptisms. One and done, baby.”

Henry opens his mouth, prepared to answer with one of a thousand things. That the tabloids will have even more of a field day than usual if he stops doing his chores, that there will always be a church dedication or a swan upping or an appointment for a top hat fitting, that he’ll always be obligated to have one foot in London and one day they’ll have to choose where to settle down. It’s far from the first time they’ve had this conversation.

But then Alex shovels a massive bite of pancakes into his mouth and says, “Anyway, I love you. Do you wanna have June and Nora over tomorrow? We can play Mario Party again. I wanna see them get in a fistfight. Oh, and my dad’s in town next week, and he said to tell you he’s bringing that book you asked about–”

And that’s when Henry knows: He doesn’t ever want to go back.

...

It’s the end of spring 2024, and Henry is not eavesdropping, per se. He excused himself to answer a call from Shaan, which really could not be avoided. Shaan has taken to his new life as a househusband with predictable aplomb, and most of his calls these days involve Henry getting to talk to a baby who is clearly destined to become prime minister. He simply can’t send that to voicemail.

It’s the first time they’ve had room in the schedule for his mother to visit since Alex accepted his law job, which Henry understands very little about but has been assured is the most strategic next step for Alex’s career long game. When Henry left the room, Alex was still trying to explain it to Catherine. It all sounds terribly prestigious.

He is just returning to the sitting room with a fresh pot of tea when he hears his name from around the corner.

“–and the next morning Henry and Arthur vanished,” his mother is saying, “and when Uncle Algie called, I told him that Henry couldn’t go on the annual pheasant hunt because he was violently ill, but actually Arthur had taken him to Rome for two weeks on the set of that go on ridiculous car heist film he was working on, the one with, oh, what’s his name–“

“Jason Statham,” Alex says promptly, through wheezing laughter.

“That’s the one!”

“Loved that movie,” Alex says. “I can’t believe Henry got to be on set.”

“It was all Arthur’s idea, but he was right to do it. Uncle Algie is a dreadful bore, and Henry despises his son. Guilford. Did you meet Guilford at the wedding?”

“Henry made sure I avoided it.”

“Yes, that’s for the best,” Catherine says daintily. “He has matured into an absolute dickhead.”

Henry wishes he was in the room to see the way Alex sputters out, “Oh my God.” Alex always forgets that Catherine went to uni and married a commoner from Sheffield.

And then Alex sighs and says, “When Henry and I get married–”

Henry manages to recover the teapot before he drops it.

It’s not a surprise to hear Alex mention marriage. They’ve been sorting it out for years: political logistics and Alex’s child-of-divorce anxiety and a thousand questions about a royal wedding neither of them actually wants to have. He’s already bought an engagement ring, even, and judging by how tetchy Alex gets whenever Henry tries to put his underwear away for him, he’s not the only one.

But it is the first time he’s heard Alex mention it to his mother. He dropped it so casually, so matter-of-factly, as if he’s been talking to her about marrying Henry for years. Henry supposes it’s possible he has been. Is this why Alex had tea with her in London last month and told Henry he wasn’t invited? Have they been conspiring?

They’re discussing hypothetical guest lists now, which cousins secretly hate one another and who wore an inappropriately large fascinator to whose birthday tea, but Henry isn’t listening anymore. He’s thinking of a cafe table in Rome, his dad waving over a second round of gelato.

In his memory, he’s nine years old, and his father is saying, Whoever you marry, Henry, make sure they think your mum is a laugh, because she is. She really is.

He clears his throat and finally rounds the corner. “Tea, anyone?”

...

It’s 2024, and nobody knows they’re engaged.

Granted, they’ve only been engaged for about three hours, but Henry is curious to see how long they can go. It feels nice to keep a secret that doesn’t have to be a secret. It’s more that they’re keeping it like a pet, or something especially beautiful from the garden that they’ve coaxed into a jar.

A record is spinning on the turntable, one of Alex’s, maybe the Joni Mitchell he borrowed from Bea. They’ve shoved their phones under the couch cushions and ordered a pizza the size of the moon, and now they’re sitting in the center of the living room floor, demolishing it. They kiss, then eat more pizza, then get distracted kissing again. Henry licks a streak of pepperoni grease from Alex’s forearm, which is a fantasy he didn’t know he had until he’s living it. They tangle up on the rug, and Henry decides he’ll take Alex sailing next weekend, or even out to the edge of the river, just to see him against a horizon.

Four-nearly-five years in, the main thing he’s learned is that Alex is a world without end. All Henry wants is to go on with him forever. To keep finding new favorite parts, to keep turning things over and studying their soft bellies and finding the best bits.

So, he will.

...

It snows on New Year’s Eve 2024. Alex looks out the window and shrugs off his coat.

The Young America Gala may be no longer, but Nora, June, and Pez aren’t to be stopped from throwing a New Year’s party, especially now that Pez has gotten his own part-time flat in the city. They’re the three fates of New York City’s holiday social circuit: birth (June, managing invitations), life (Pez, topless), and death (Nora, also topless).

“What if,” Alex says, turning to Henry on the foot of the stairs, “we don’t go to the party?”

“Nora will murder me,” Henry says. “She told me she’s not afraid to do that now that I’ve given up my title.”

“Murder is still a crime even if you’re not officially a prince.”

“Yes, but she said, quote,” he puts on his best American accent, “They can’t put me in the Tower anymore. Who’s gonna arrest me now? Mr. Bean?”

“Why don’t we just send Angus? It’s dark. Maybe she won’t notice.”

“Where’s your double, then?”

“We live in New York, I’m sure I can find a male model somewhere.”

“As always, sounding the very bass string of humility.”

“Is that fucking Shakespeare?”

“Henry IV.”

“I’m gonna give you a wedgie, you fucking nerd.”

In the end, it doesn’t take much to convince Henry to stay in. Lately, it never does. Alex texts June a flimsy excuse, and they toe off their shoes and relax out of their button-downs.

Henry does have to admit he’s exhausted, in the way that one only can be on the last day of the year, when every other day of the year piles way up behind it. It’s been a big one: Alex’s first law job, the endless press about Henry’s decision to surrender his title, the engagement, Bea’s wedding, the incident with the croquet mallets and the Dutch ambassador at Bea's wedding.

Sometimes Alex jokes that they squeezed it all into one calendar year because no headline can stick if there's another next week, but it's only half a joke. They've been bone-tired for months.

"I'm surprised you're the one who wants to stay home," Henry says. "I remember a young lothario who lived to ruin people's lives on New Year's Eve."

"Ruin?" Alex says. "That's not how I remember it."

"It certainly felt that way at the time."

They drift to the kitchen, past all the traces of the year. The dried flowers, the new scuffs on the floorboards. The box of bound manuscripts of Henry's first finished poetry-ish short-fiction-ish essay-ish collection. The holiday cards from senators and diplomats and old Texas friends, topped off with Alex's favorite of Rafael Luna and his astonishingly fit partner in matching Christmas jumpers. Henry would think Raf had been forced into it if it hadn't come with a case of beer and a note of thanks for letting him stay over the last time he visited Alex and had one too many tequila shots at drag bingo.

Alex withdraws a bottle of Clicquot from the refrigerator and says, "We're not washed, are we?"

“We're aging," Henry points out.

"That's right," Alex says, eyes immediately sparking at the opportunity. Henry preemptively sighs. "You're almost thirty."

"Almost twenty-eight is not almost thirty."

"It basically is. You're old. You'll be thirty a whole year before me. You'll be popping antacids and I'll be in the club, popping my p-"

"You're not even in the club now."

"I could be, I'm just choosing not to, because I don't want to deal with the snow. That's not aging, it's growth."

He slides Henry a glass of champagne and adds, "It's probably time for us to start talking about what's on your Do Before Thirty list, huh?"

Henry takes the glass and chooses going with Alex's bit over pointing out that he's entering his late twenties, not dying.

“I’ve done quite well on that front so far, actually,” he says. “Wrote a book. Started a nonprofit. Engaged to the love of my life.”

“Involved in an international sex scandal.”

“Shook the hands of all five Spice Girls.”

“Best dressed at the Met Gala.”

“Cried in the Water Lilies room at the MOMA.”

“Grew your hair out, then cut it all off.“

“Taught myself to make beef Wellington.”

“That one’s, uh, still in progress,” Alex hedges. Henry gives him an affronted look. “But, yeah! Definitely. And you got really good at scones.”

“That I did.”

“Right,” Alex agrees. “So what’s left? Streaking? Dropping acid? Having sex on our kitchen island?”

Henry takes a moment with that one.

“Having sex on our kitchen island?”

When the clock strikes the new year, the house is quiet. The timer on the light over the front stoop clicks off. The champagne bottle rests between two glasses on the edge of the sink, spent and sticky around the rim, a single soggy strawberry at the bottom of each flute. Miles out from their apartment, fireworks fight the snow over the East River, but in their kitchen in Park Slope, the only sounds are the two of them.

Henry, almost twenty-eight, presses his warm body to the cool marble and gets his midnight kiss.

...

“Do you know what today is?” Alex asks on a lukewarm September.

It’s 2025. He’s in the doorway of Henry’s study, where Henry has been all evening, answering emails.

“Hm? No.”

When Alex doesn’t immediately fill the silence, Henry looks up from his laptop screen.

“What is it?”

“Five years since the story broke,” Alex says.

It takes a moment for him to realize what story Alex means; there have been so many of them. But of course, he means that gigantic, terrible one. The one that changed their lives forever.

“Oh,” Henry says. He closes his laptop, leaning back in his chair and away from it. “Well. Hated that.”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees. “Zero out of ten. Would not do again.”

His tone is light and casual, but when he folds his arms across his chest, Henry can see his glasses in the front pocket of his flannel. It’s been months and months since the last time Alex didn’t feel confident enough to wear them.

For his part, Henry can remember much of that day, but not all of it. He remembers stirring sugar into his morning tea when Shaan walked in wearing an expression Henry had never seen before. He remembers Pez arriving like the cavalry in Gucci slippers, hustling Henry away from his handlers with the same graceful disdain he used to direct at Eton classmates who stared at them too much. He remembers Bea finding them in the music parlor and refusing to hear Henry’s apology, and he remembers Alex’s call and Alex’s arrival.

The funny part, though, is he can’t remember anything between Bea and Alex. He knows that Philip was involved, and there were stories on every news channel, and he spoke to his mother at some point. But the space in his memory where those hours belong is simply blank. His psychiatrist says it’s post-traumatic stress disorder, and Henry is inclined to agree, considering the two of them spent the entire following year recalibrating Henry’s anxiety and depression medication around the event.

Those hours will always be gone. There are things he will never get back.

Most of the time, though, when he thinks of that day, the second worst thing that's ever happened to him, he thinks of Alex's hand in his under a Buckingham Palace table. He remembers, clear as a bell, Alex's voice telling him they would survive it together. It happened to Alex too. It wasn't what they would have chosen, but it was what they received, and they've done their absolute bloody best with it.

He rises from his desk, crosses to the doorway, and gathers Alex up against his chest. Their size difference isn't that pronounced—Henry is taller but lean, Alex shorter but sturdy—but in moments like this, he's thankful for the way Alex's cheek perfectly aligns with the crook of his neck. He's grateful for how effortless it is to slip a kiss to Alex's temple.

Neither of them says anything else. It's all been said a thousand times, in speeches and through official statements and in the dark when it's only the two of them. It's enough to stand here in the center of the house, in the quiet, and let it hold their weight.

...

At the end of 2025, Henry has a bad day.

There's nothing specific that causes it. The days just happen like this sometimes, even with all the therapy and medication and supportive partnership and fulfilling creative projects in the world. There are other people, he supposes, who don't spend their lives waiting for the next bad day. He's had every bloody luxury but that one.

Alex comes home from work to find him curled up on the armchair in the study, staring out the window at the light-polluted night sky over the row of brownstones across the street.

“What are you doing?" Alex asks him.

"Looking for Orion," Henry deadpans.

Alex kneels on the rug in his tailored suit pants and rolled-up sleeves and rests his cheek on Henry's knee, the way he often does when Henry's in a mood. Henry's fingers slide into his curls. They've grown a bit longer in the past few months. Lately. Alex looks quite like he did when they met, except for the glasses and the stubble dusting his jaw.

“I’m tired of big law, “ Alex confesses. It would appear he’s in a mood too. “I know it’s only been a year and a half, but...I kind of hate it.”

Henry contemplates that, along with the dark circles around Alex’s eyes.

“You don’t have to do it, you know.” Henry tells him.

Alex looks at him like he did in that hotel room in Paris the first time they woke up together, like the only thing he knows for sure about what he’s being offered is that he wants it completely. It’s an intimidating look to receive, but it’s only ever improved Henry’s life in the end.

He kisses Henry’s knuckle, just below his ring.

“I have some ideas.”

...

In February 2026, a flu sweeps through Park Slope. Neither Alex nor Henry can agree on who gave it to whom first– Henry knows it was Alex, since he’s been up late consulting with his mum about a voting rights bill in Texas, and his immune system always suffers when he gets upset about Texas—but regardless, they’re trapped in the brownstone together for a week. At least Alex doesn’t have to work through his illness the way he usually does, since he resigned from his job last month.

Somewhere around day five, Henry realizes it’s the longest consecutive amount of time they’ve both been home in years. They always seem to be leaving or returning: rushing off to appearances, climbing out of security caravans in half-undone suits, meeting Cash at the curb at three in the morning with bags over their shoulders. It’s nice, in a way, to get reacquainted with this home they’ve built together.

While Alex naps, Henry paces the entire floorplan.

The first floor, with its long living room and the original beams and mantelpiece, which Henry had restored before he moved in, because he always has been precious about the history of things. Then the kitchen and the deep blue cabinets and the wide back window over the knotty pine dining table handed down from Alex's dad. Upstairs, on the second floor, the guest bedroom with all of his mum's preferred hand creams in the attached washroom and the sitting room with the shelf of swan figurines Pez started collecting years ago in a dramatic fit of June-related yearning. One more flight up to the top floor, with his study and Alex's office and the hall with their photo from Shaan and Zahra's wedding and, at the far end, their bedroom.

The bedroom is his favorite part of the house, and not only for the obvious reasons, no matter how much Alex tries to imply otherwise with suggestive eyebrows. He loves the high ceiling and the chipped plaster medallion of roses at the center. They picked out the bed together, and every morning that he wakes up in it, he gets to turn over and see Alex's loose pens and glasses wipes scattered atop the dresser and know that this, his life, is still real. Perhaps he likes the room best because it feels separated from every other part of the house, lifted up and bundled in, which is the first time he's ever been safe in a tower.

Most importantly, of all three levels of bay windows jutting from the redbrick front of the brownstone, only the one in the bedroom has a seat. They've filled it with velvet pillows and mossy green cushions, and once or twice a year, on one of their vanishingly rare slow days, Alex will climb in and fall asleep.

That's where he finds Alex when he eases into the room with a mug of soup in each hand. He recognizes the quilt wrapped around him: they slept under it in Alex's childhood twin bed the night Ellen won her second term, and then Alex crammed it into his suitcase and brought it back to Washington.

He stirs as Henry sets the mugs down on the dresser.

“Thanks,” he says in a hoarse voice.

Henry nudges in beside him, gingerly removing Alex's glasses from beneath his elbow before they get crushed.

"You know," Henry says, "I chose this house for the bay windows."

Alex blinks at him, fully awake now. "Really?"

"I thought you might like them. You always talked about the one you grew up with. Hoped they might make the place feel like home."

Alex smiles. "They do."

Henry looks at him in his quilt, sleep-mussed and flushed from fever and overdue for a shave, and he remembers that night in the yellow house in Austin. Before Alex led them back to his old bedroom, he peeled up the cushion in the living room window seat and showed Henry pages of elementary school scribbles still hidden there. And he told Henry that he thought once of hiding a picture there too, if only he'd had the nerve to tear it out of his sister's magazine.

Love, Henry has found, has a way of growing backward. You fall in love with a person in the present, and then every person you've ever been gets to fall in love with every past version of them. A sleep-deprived Georgetown freshman falls in love with an Oxford sophomore who's testing out undoing the top button of his shirts sometimes. A ruddy-cheeked teenager with his nose in a book loves a backtalking lacrosse captain. A boy comes home from school with perfect marks and sees a picture in a magazine, and the boy from the picture pauses on a palace staircase.

The crux of it is, he loves every version of Alex to ever sleep under that quilt. Everything else is mostly set dressing

"I'm having a thought," Henry says.

"Congratulations," Alex deadpans automatically. Then, "Tell me."

"This life we have here," Henry says. "This house. It's good, yeah?"

"Yeah, of course it is."

"But we could have a good life somewhere else too."

Alex frowns. "Like where?"

"Somewhere... farther from everything, maybe? Somewhere we could slow down, and things could be quieter, and you could do the work you want to do. I think I could use some time away from it all, honestly. Maybe I wouldn't even have to have a body double anymore."

Alex considers that for a long moment. They both know where Henry means, even if he doesn't say it. Besides New York and DC, and London on its best days, there's really only one place Alex would seriously consider living. They've joked about it before, but Henry's always thought it might be nice to spend a few years somewhere completely different than he's used to. A place where he could see the stars.

At long last, Alex sniffs and says, "You're gonna fire Angus? He was just starting to grow on me.”

...

“If you don't wake Bea up, you're gonna have to hear about her back spasms in the morning,” says a voice that is most certainly not Heath Ledger's.

Henry startles awake to find Alex leaning over his shoulder from behind the loveseat, curls everywhere. The room is dark, and the end credits are rolling.

"You're not home until tomorrow," Henry mumbles.

"Moved up my flight," Alex says. He's so close to Henry's face, he's gone a bit cross-eyed. His lips bounce off the tip of Henry's nose. "I missed you."

It's only been a few days, but the truth is Henry missed him too. He supposes he should be used to empty beds and time differences by now, especially when they began that way, but he suspects he'll never stop waiting at the door. You know what will be the best part of getting married?" Henry asks Alex.

"The line dancing."

"The way I won't have to miss you nearly as often."

Alex softens, then maneuvers himself over the armrest until he's draped across Henry's lap. David climbs on top of him and curls up on Alex's left buttock.

Letting go of the house has been hard, but this particular decision was easy, once they finally said it out loud. A gradual, careful withdrawal from public life, at least for a few years. They’ve given so much of themselves to the world and had the privilege of feeling a legacy take shape beneath them, but they need rest too.

It was June who convinced them, actually. Even now, there are certain things only June can say to Alex. Early in the spring, when she was finally transitioning out of her speechwriting job for Raf, she called Alex from Colorado and told him she was moving to New York to be closer to Nora and Pez, and she wanted to sublet the brownstone. When Alex pointed out that he was still living in it, she said, "We both know you've been looking at farmhouses in Austin for six months, it's time to shit or get off the pot."

(Henry loves his particular collection of Americans. They truly do say what's on their minds.)

The new house is beautiful. Henry's only seen it in person once, but the previous owner was a reclusive tech executive with shockingly good taste, so Architectural Digest featured it last year. He's had the article open in a tab on his phone for two months, and he scrolls through all those perfectly lit photos twice a day, getting high on possibilities. Lazy mornings in the wide sunroom, midnight dives in the lake. It's easy to imagine Alex mellowing into a brisket-smoking, tamale-rolling Texas dad out there, and it's just as easy to imagine them basking under cedar trees until their mid-thirties and then deciding they're ready for another round. The wonderful thing is, they can take their time either way.

It isn't a full release from their obligations, but it is the next step after formally relinquishing his title. More boundaries, more of their own rules about what they will and won't do. No royal wedding, but a private ceremony at the lake house and a honeymoon unpacking boxes. A job for Alex at a smaller firm where he can finally get his hands in the earth. A quieter life.

"You're right," Alex says. "You know what else is gonna be awesome about married-people life? We can have actual, real-life date nights. Just imagine it: free refills and bottomless chips and salsa."

"Oh, I've got another one," Henry says. “You can finally show me how to navigate an H-E-B."

“Baby, don’t talk dirty to me in front of company.”

“Please,” says a groggy voice from the couch.

“Hi, Bea.”

“Time’s it?”

“One in the morning.”

“Ugh.”

Grumbling and tugging a blanket around herself, Bea wakes Pez and the two of them head off to wash up before bed. The odds of Pez returning to the couch for the night or availing himself of their bed so that Alex has to sleep on the couch are just about even, based on six years of Pez falling asleep at their house. It’s a comfort to know that when they leave the brownstone and June moves in, Pez will still be making himself at home in it.

Downstairs, surrounded by boxes, Alex crawls out of Henry’s lap and slides a large shopping bag out from behind the loveseat. “I brought you something.” Alex says.

Inside the bag is a box made of the sort of heavy cardboard that augurs something expensive. He imagines Alex hurling his patched-up rough-ridden leather duffle into the overhead compartment of the airplane and then sliding this bag under the seat so carefully that there’s not even a crease in the paper.

He takes the lid off the box and unwraps layers of tissue paper to reveal a hat. A cowboy hat. It’s made of gorgeous, thick felt, with a cattleman crown and a satin lining. A nearly identical one has hung in Alex’s office since he moved in, though Alex’s is midnight black and this one is a warm, pale sand. Where Alex’s hatband has a small gold buckle, this one has a silver pin in the shape of an English rose.

“It’s a Stetson,” Alex says. When Henry looks up at him, his cheeks have darkened faintly. “I know it’s not really your thing, but you ride horses, and it’s kind of a big deal where I’m from to get your first Stetson, so I wanted to be the one to give it to you since you’re about to be an honorary Texan. You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want–“

“I love it,” Henry interrupts.

Alex pauses, then breaks out in a grin. “You do? I was afraid you’d think it was a joke.”

“It’s the least ridiculous hat I’ve ever been given,” Henry tells him. “It didn’t even come with a matching tailcoat.”

“Nah, but maybe we can get you some Wranglers,” Alex says.

“Some chaps, perhaps.”

“I just told you not to talk dirty to me.”

Henry laughs and kisses him over the open box, thinking of the next year of their lives. Sunday morning fry-ups, swimming holes, a wedding cake that doesn’t wind up on the floor. Tomorrow he needs to ask if Alex checked on the bakery while he was in Austin, and if they have any more packing tape, and whether Amy’s daughter has gotten her flower girl dress yet.

Tonight, though, Alex is home a day early, and the house is making all its soft, familiar night-time sounds around them. No one sees in through the windows. No one comes in through the gate.

“Henry,” says Alex.

“Alex,” says Henry.

“You and me,” Alex says.

“You and me,” Henry agrees.

End.

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[vmbrq]

(about your ovulation / ethan landry post)

YES PLEASE YES YES YES

-

this is SO TMI but last night i was basically crawling up the walls with how horny i was for ethan landry, and i was so fucking confused. checked my app: i’m ovulating. makes sense.

BUT YES LIKE ethan wouldn’t understand why you’re so touchy all of a sudden, not that you’re not touchy but it was amped by like, 100. and then it dawns on him and he’s like “oh. 🤔 oh 🤭😏” like he has never seen you so feral for him before, and it turns him on so much to know you want him so bad. bonus points if you cry while you’re riding him because he feels so good and you’re so horny for him.

i’m dead died dead

i know it's been a minute since i made that post, BUT MY FEELINGS STILL STAND AND YOU'RE SO CORRECT. and whenever i'm ovulating, i feel like a werewolf chained to a tree during the full moon, so you're so real for that.

your behavior would be different--not intrusive or unwanted, just different.

but, he doesn't comment on it when you ambush him from behind while he's talking with chad, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face into his back to take a deep inhale of laundry detergent, aftershave, and something distinctly ethan. you'll take every available opportunity to have at least one hand somewhere on his body in public, whether you're casually rubbing your palm over his back or hooking an arm around his to keep him close or linking your pinky with his. you steal kisses off him whenever you can. you're more forward about wanting his attention, even if you don't always outright say it.

while he certainly isn't complaining, he just doesn't quite understand where the onslaught of affection came from. sure, you love him, and you very rarely shy away from demonstrating it, but this exceeds what he's used to. throughout the day, he remains blissfully unaware, never knowing that you're a solid four seconds away from popping the button on his jeans and taking what you need. the shifting of his jaw and the concentrated furrow of his brow as he works through difficult homework questions, the defined sculpt of his arms in short-sleeve button-down, the earnest adoration reflected in his big, dark eyes as he listened to you speak--everything about him just looked so good.

how could you be expected to keep yourself in line?

he would refrain from inquiring until you two are in the privacy of one of your rooms, not wanting to embarrass you or put you on the spot in front of other people. but even then, he doesn't get much of a chance, because as soon as he shrugs off his backpack and turns around, you pounce, nearly causing him to trip over his own feet as you push him back onto the bed and climb atop him.

he's surprised, rightfully so. but you kiss him, and he's more than willing to let you. but his hands flutter tentatively around your waist as he tries to ground himself and sort through his thoughts. it feels as if his world has been flipped upside down. he simply thought you were being affectionate. was he wrong? were you trying to signal to him and he just never noticed? is there something going on?

"hey," he interjects when you finally break the kiss. his chest rises and falls beneath your hands as he pulls for oxygen, the collar of his blue shirt rumpled from where you'd drawn him closer, his eyes dazed and searching yours for an explanation. "hey, are you--are we..?" you shouldn't mistake his pause for rejection, he just wants to understand. he's rarely seen you this desperate for him before.

and when he finally does? when you, just as disheveled and breathless as he is, whine that you need him--that you need him so fucking badly, all it takes is a couple moments of consideration before he realizes what's happening with you. he swallows as the pieces of the situation click into place. fuck. you're ovulating. suddenly, your earlier behavior makes sense. your desire for his attention, your craving for touch, your insistence on being pressed as close as possible to him on the subway back to your apartment--you must have been feeling the full weight of its effects all day. and now that you have him beyond the view of the public eye, you can't wait any longer.

a hushed, broken moan of his name as you impatiently grind down on him is all that's needed to stir into creation a fire in the pit of his stomach. you want him--no, you need him. you need him. he can already feel his cock beginning to stiffen against your thigh, and the tip of his tongue flickers over his bottom lip. his gaze scans your expression once more, and his breathing grows shallower when he finally identifies that distinct glimmer in your eyes as sheer desperation and need.

at this point, he's certain nothing will be able to deter him from having you.

"how badly?" he pants. it's paired with a slight, teasing upturn of the corners of his lips, just testing the waters to see how you'll react. to see how deeply your desire runs.

he gets his answer when you, in a fit of irritation at his lack of urgency, draw him into another searing kiss that he returns in full. he gets his answer when you swat his hands away from your waist when he attempts to ease you down on his cock, your own pace much more reckless as you sink down on him without giving either of you a moment to adjust. he gets his answer when you pin his wrists down to the mattress, using them as leverage while you fuck yourself stupid on his cock. you treat him as if he were nothing but a toy for you to maneuver and utilize for your own pleasure, relentlessly pursuing orgasm after orgasm even as your thighs tremble and tears of bliss pool along your lash line.

for a moment, he wonders if you're too drunk on pleasure to speak properly. but your hands move from his wrists to his strong shoulders, and you dig your nails into his skin as you begin to babble mindlessly. "feels s' good. more, i ne--i can't--" you hiccup, a single teardrop slicing through the layer of perspiration blanketing your cheek. "need you to cum," you mumble. "want it inside."

"you sure?" he pants, eyes wide. "we've never--"

"ethan!" you complain petulantly.

shit. his hands, now freed and granted permission, move to grip your waist firmly. a squeal is punched from your throat when he meets your descent with a sharp, upward thrust of his hips, burying himself as deep inside you as possible.

he grins. fine by him.

[jeankluv]

Birdie | Satoru Gojo - Chapter 04

Words: 4,9k

Summary: You didn’t like him, at all. But due to your bad luck you would have to be forced to work with him and different circumstances end up leading you to the fact that perhaps the word dislike is not the one you use to describe him.

Warnings this chapter: mentions of wounds

ac: _3aem

Tags: modern au, college au, fem!reader, academic rivals, he fell first, fluff, old money Gojo Satoru, abusive parents, slight slow burn, Satoru is a softy, secondary couple (Geto Suguru x oc), a bit of angst, no use of y/n, eventual smut, Gojo plays basketball

Authors notes: I was going to post this one during the weekend but I felt like posting before. I want to thank everyone leaving lovely messages and likes on each of the chapters, this motivates me so much to keep writing this story. Thank you.

Materialist | previous chapter | next chapter

Links to the fic on: wattpad | ao3

You were sitting on the floor of your apartment as you put things into boxes and waited for Gojo to arrive. After meeting him in the cafeteria and having insisted on coming and that he would show you even if he had to help with all the moving, you haven't seen him again. He hadn't even shown up in class, which was extremely rare. If your memory didn't fail you, Gojo had never missed a class.

Kyoko had told you that Suguru had told her something about family matters, so you didn't give any more importance to the fact that he wasn't going to show up to class for sometime.

The address wasn't complicated enough to take so long, and on top of that he could have sent you a message or something, so you wouldn't have to wait an hour or so.

You only wished he was not going to leave you waiting for him all day. Or else…

The doorbell rang suddenly, making you jump on your seat. You got up and walked to open the door.

He was finally here.

"Finally you're here." You said opening the door. "I already thought this was a bad joke or…" Your face dropped. "Gojo! What happened?!"

His face was purple and he had some wounds with the scab already coming off. Your heart was beating a mile an hour. Had they attacked him coming here? A thief? No, the wounds didn't seem recent.

"Oh birdie you're worried about me?" A smirk formed on his face.

"Don't joke in a situation like that asshole!" You reprimanded him. "Of course I'm worried if someone appears all wounded in my front door."

Turning on your heel you headed to the sink, you knew the house had a first aid kit, maybe you could treat him with some of it.

"Birdie…” He muttered approaching you. "It's okay, they are old."

"You got into a fight?" You left the first aid kit back on it's place. "I never pictured you like those kind of boys."

"A bad boy?" A smirk appeared on his lips.

"No. An asswhole who would get on a fight and would end up all wounded.”

He looked at you and then smiled. "Should we start?" He turned around and walked around the tiny apartment.

"Yeah. I brought my notebook and everything the professor gave us." You said taking everything out of your bag. "This is not the best place to study… but since you insisted so much, we will have to deal with these boxes and everything around us."

"You used to live here?" He sat down on the bed. "It's…"

"Tiny? I know but it was the best I could get when I got here." You sat next to him.

He nodded and grabbed one of your notebooks from your hands. "Your parents don't live in…"

"I don't have parents." You cut him off. You didn't want to talk about the matter and hoped that Gojo would catch it with the cold tone you used.

Gojo cleared his throat and murmured a sorry, before turning to face you.

Placing the notebook between the two of you, he spoke. "So…" He looked at the notebook. "What's exactly what you don't understand?"

You thought for a moment. "I guess the problems." You pointed them out. "I understand most of the formulas but when it comes to start resolving the problem I find it confusing and ended up taking data that is not, or so I think." You mumbled the last part.

"It's true that the way professor Tanaka redacts her problems are a bit confusing, but once you realize how she redacts them you will see that they are always the same." He pointed out. "If you know the equations it shouldn't be difficult for you." He looked at you. "Let's start with this one, try to solve it and I will also do the same and see where you fail okay?" You shook your head and Gojo smiled, grabbing a pen from your desk and a piece of paper to start on with the problem.

Minutes started to pass and you were embarrassed, you didn't want to look at Gojo because you knew he finished the problem long ago but here you were looking at the result you obtained knowing that it was impossible to get to that conclusion.

You had been competing against Gojo these last few years to be the best academically and you had never managed to surpass him and now you were embarrassed because a stupid subject had stuck and you were unable to advance.

You dropped your head forward, it already hurt and it was only the first problem.

"Bridie…" You heard Gojo spoke. "You need help with the problem?"

You nodded without looking up and you could see how his hand took your notebook and turned it a little so he could see what you had done. He would probably think you were an idiot and laugh at you.

"Let's do it together, okay?" You nodded again.

What expression would he have at that moment? Was he holding back his laugh? You wanted to look up but you were too embarrassed.

"Let me sit next to you." You could feel how he moved and stood next to you. "This way we can both read the statement." You murmured okay and then he started to explain. "Well, what I usually do is point out the important aspects of the problem." He pointed to the information. "And then write them down on the sheet, so you have a global idea of everything."

He began to write everything down and write down the names of what each thing was. It was true that that way you could see everything more clearly.

"If in the problem can be done, I usually make a drawing."

"I used to do that in chemistry." You said.

"Yeah me too." He responded. "That way it was easier to know what quantities each mixture needed." You nodded. "Well, it's similar here, that way you get an idea of what you're looking for." He finished drawing and showed it to you. "Do you see it clearer that way?" He said, turning the page and showing it to you.

You definitely did and now things made sense, not like before. You nodded and Gojo handed you the paper so you could do the problem. You started doing it, now everything was easier.

"I will be back in a minute." He stood up and exited for a moment.

You saw him leave and you paid your attention back to the problem again, this time you would get it and if you used what Gojo had taught you again you could solve the rest of the problems without help.

You felt like a weight was lifted from your shoulders being able to master this. Passing all the subjects meant that you would continue to qualify for the scholarship so you could continue studying, but if you failed in any of them, the scholarship would disappear and your dream of continuing with your degree and graduating would also disappear.

You smiled when you checked the result, it was correct. You had done it. You looked at the door where Gojo had left and when you saw that he did not return, you got to work on the rest of the problems using the method that Gojo had taught you. Underline, write down, draw (if possible).

Underline, write down, draw (if possible).

Underline, write down, draw (if possible).

You don't know how much time had passed when Gojo returned, but you had managed to solve 5 problems on your own.

"Birdie, I went and buy…"

"I solved them!" You showed him. "I did it!"

Gojo looked at you and then at the page. "You did it. Good job birdie." He smiled. "That's because I am an excellent teacher."

You laughed and rolled your eyes. "Actually it's because I'm an excellent student."

"Sure…" He looked around. "I think our lesson for today it's over."

"What? You almost did nothing."

"I helped you understand how to solve the problems!" He replied.

"And? What a shitty teacher you are." You crossed your arms and sat on the bed.

"You mad at me birdie?" He sat next to you. "Come on, I bought you snacks." He moved the bag in the air.

"Snacks?" You looked and tried to grab the bag.

"No, no, no." He shook his head with a playful smirk drawn on his face. "First you need to admit I'm an excellent teacher."

You huffed, brushing a strand of your hair out of front of you. "Okay, you're the best tutor I've ever had." Gojo smiled and handed you the bag.

"Hey, have you had any other private tutors?" He looked at you while you rummaged through the bag and grabbed one of the snacks.

"No." You smiled while eating a piece of the snack.

Gojo laughed. "So obviously I'm the best."

"Of course, there hasn't been any other." You shrugged.

"Now." He stood up from the bed. "How should I help you here?" He looked around.

"You are going to help me?" You looked at him swallowing the piece you just ate.

"Sure. And don't say there is no need."

"Hmm." You thought, he was taller and stronger than you. "Could you bring me down the things that are in the top of the closet? Most of them are winter clothes or old things, but I barely get there and they are quite heavy." Gojo looked where you were pointing and nodded. "Thank you."

"We can have another tutoring session through the week." Gojo said. "We have the same free hours, so… if you want."

"Yeah, okay." You nodded. "I still have some doubts on another aspect of the subject, maybe you can help me."

"Of course I can, I'm the best."

"You're the best." You said at the same time, rolling your eyes. "Again thank you Gojo, for… helping me, I guess." The words had cost you, but they were finally out.

"Birdie." You looked up at him and he was shaking his head. "I should be the one thanking you."

You tilted your head to the side, what did that mean? "Why?"

"I guess for giving me a chance or something like that?" He left one of the bags he had taken on the floor. "I know you don't like me, I don't know why, really, but I'm glad they put us in that job together." He smiled at you. "It will be the last time you have to put up with me."

What did he mean with that last sentence? Gojo climbed back onto the chair and continued taking out the bags without saying a single word again. You also did your thing, keeping things in a box and leaving everything as if no one had ever lived in that apartment. But you couldn't get that phrase out of your head, next year you would share even more classes, in the end you were studying the same branch, why did he said that as if he wasn't going to come back?

You looked around at the boxes, not many, but full of what you had brought from your grandmother's house and what you had been buying and acquiring these last two years, nearly three years. It was at times like this where you missed having your grandmother with you or having been able to have your mother next to you and that she would have been there to see you grow.

You hoped that they were both looking down on you and feeling proud of what you were slowly achieving.

The ringing of a phone snapped you out of your momentary trance. You grabbed your phone to see that it wasn't yours, it was Gojo's, who was leaning face down on your old bed.

"Hmm, Gojo." You called him, he was still taking care of winter clothes you told him to. He looked at you and you pointed to his phone. "Someone is calling."

"Can you check who it is?" You nodded and grabbed it.

"It says… mother." You didn't know if it was your feeling or what, but you could swear that Gojo tensed up the moment you said the word mother.

"Hang up and put the phone on silent please." You nodded without asking questions, you didn't want to get involved in matters that weren't yours.

You felt a pinch in your heart as you thought about the tone Gojo had used. He didn't seem to get along with his mother, or maybe they were just angry about something. You've heard rumors about the Gojo clan, who hasn't? The entire university had heard them. Satoru Gojo was the only son and grandson, which made him the heir. An extremely rich heir.

The Gojo clan had dedicated more than three generations to their law firm and had gained incredible fame, positioning them in the upper class of Japan. From what you understood, Gojo's great-grandfather had been the one who started the business, in the 1930s he traveled with his wife to the United States where he started from scratch and managed to make his way and by the 1960s he was already a truly known man, and returned to Japan where he earned the respect of the upper classes. His son inherited the business after the death of him and later Gojo's father and now it would be Satoru Gojo's turn. But he had decided to take another alternative and ignore the wishes of his family.

When you had your first encounter with Satoru Gojo, the first day, when he dumped you and didn't even look at you, you thought he was a brat and later that day you learned who he was. The rich boy from the Gojo clan.

When you started classes you thought he was there for his parents' money, you never saw him doing anything and you knew from the voices in the hallways that he went from party to party every weekend. They said that he never slept with the same girl, he had seemed like a textbook fuckboy to you.

That is why you were distrustful and so extremely curt with him. You couldn't trust him, but the bastard made it really difficult. You had gotten to know him a little and something inside you had softened, even if you wanted to ignore it.

You shook your head. You could stop thinking about it. Once the work was finished everything would be over, yes that's. Everything would end, but why did that make you feel sad?

"In the clouds again, birdie?" Breath hit your ear causing you to stir.

"Fuck Gojo!" You turned to look at him covering your ear. You hadn't heard him come down from where he was.

He smiled showing his teeth. "I'm done. What do you want me to do now?" You looked around thinking. "I can help you with your underwear if you want." He smiled sideways. The colors of your face were probably at their peak. You wanted to kill him for teasing you like that.

"Gojo, you want to die?" He laughed.

"I was kidding birdie. But c'mon what can I do for you?" Fuck, there it was that look again and you heart beating loudly on your chest.

"Put the kitchen utensils in the boxes." You pointed your finger at the boxes on the dining room table.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･''･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

A couple of hours had passed since Gojo's arrival at your former apartment, the sun was now setting. The apartment appeared nearly untouched, as if no one had lived in before. You wiped your forehead with a tissue and glanced at Gojo, who was diligently packing items into boxes.

There had been little conversation between you two; in fact, Gojo had hardly uttered a word since you mentioned his mother's phone call. He hadn't even agreed to take a break, indicating his determination to assist you in getting everything sorted as quickly as possible.

Sitting on the bed, you idly swung your feet in the air, waiting for Gojo to finish packing the last of the items he held. If someone were to walk in at that moment, they might assume something entirely different. I mean, who would come to assist a mere "classmate" in cleaning up their old apartment? Hardly anyone, right? That's what made Gojo's actions so puzzling. Why did he choose to help? Did he have hidden motives, or was it simply an act of goodwill? You couldn't say for sure, and part of you hesitated to even ask and find out.

"All done." Gojo spoke putting both hands on his waist and showing his smile. He really had a perfect smile.

"Good." You stood up. "Thank you."

"You're welcome birdie." He said patting your head.

You moved his hand. "I'm not a dog for you to do that to me." You said upset.

"Alright."

He walked past you with a smile and grabbed his cell phone that was still on the bed. The smile disappeared when he looked at the screen. Had something happened? Gojo looked really distraught. You had to do something, right?

"Gojo are you…?" You started to talk.

"I need to make a call, I will be right back." And he existed the apartment leaving you alone.

You turned around on your own feet and sat back down on the bed. Was he alright? Should you ask him?

"What would Kyoko do in a situation like this?" You whispered to yourself.

Probably she would try to talk to him and comfort him. But for Kyoko was something natural for you, not at all, you didn't know how to handle feelings well, you weren't good with your own, not to mention the others. You grabbed your phone started playing with it, nervously trying to figure it what to do once Gojo was back.

You were so lost in your own thoughts that you didn't hear Gojo re-enter. You didn't notice his presence until you felt the mattress next to you sink, indicating that he had sat next to you. You had your back turned to him so you couldn't see his face. It was then when you felt his arm grab you from behind, making you shiver at that sensation. What the fuck was he doing?

"Gojo, what…?"

Gojo cut you off before finishing the question. "Just stay like this." He hid his face in the crook of your exposed neck. And he muttered against your skin. "Please…"

You remained silent, offering no protest or words. It was the first time you witnessed Gojo in such a vulnerable state. Resting your chin on your hand, you gazed at the white wall of your old room. The room echoed only with your faint breaths, mingled with the distant sounds of the bustling street.

Feeling moisture on your shoulder, you realized Gojo was crying as he held onto you. Uncertain of how to respond, you grappled with the dilemma â€" should you ask him, step away, or maintain a silent pretense? Opting for the cowardly choice, you remained silent, pretending it wasn't unfolding.

After a few minutes, Gojo released his grip, audibly sniffing. Without turning around, you rose from your position and headed to the kitchen. It was nearly 11 pm, and you needed to return to Kyoko's house. Fortunately, you managed to organize and clean everything, making it easier for you to retrieve your belongings later.

"I…" You swallowed. "I think it's time to go." You still didn't turn around, he probably didn't want you to see him in that state.

"Yeah…" He whispered and you heard him moving from his place.

Your heart was pounding in your chest. You were afraid that with the silence that was there, Gojo would hear it. You felt his presence behind you. Shit, you should have asked him how he was feeling? Something?

"Take your things, I will take you home." He said passing next to you and exiting the apartment.

Taking a deep breath, you pondered the recent emotional outburst. How should you respond to this unexpected side of Gojo? His tears left you perplexed, and the tired, sorrowful tone in his voice during the call lingered in your thoughts. It struck a chord, reminiscent of your own moments of vulnerability with your grandmother.

Despite your usual disdain for Gojo, you found a desire to comfort and uplift him. You wished for the return of the annoying yet smiling Gojo, even if most of the time, you wanted to strangle him.

Heading to the apartment's desk, you gathered bags containing items for Kyoko's house, leaving the rest for donation. Struggling with the weight, you loaded your backpack and carried multiple bags on each side. Now, burdened with a load twice as heavy, you realized you genuinely needed Gojo's help. Stumbling out of the apartment, you navigated the challenge of your hefty cargo.

"Sorry." You noticed how your left shoulder lightened. "I was so deep in thought that I didn't notice the bags you wanted to carry." Gojo had taken all the bags in your hands without any effort. It wasn't surprising, after all he was the star of the basketball team.

"It's okay…" You followed him. "I was handling it just right."

"It don't look like that." He smirked.

Oh he was back. And you were happy.

"For real." You replied.

"For someone that has a black belt in taekwondo, you are actually pretty weak birdie." Now he was mocking you.

"Did Kyoko tell you that?" He nodded. "Well let me tell you I have pretty strong legs."

"I would love to see that." He said with a smirk, leaving the bags in the car.

Your cheeks turned, you knew he was saying it with other intentions. "Gojo, don't you dare. Or I'm going to kick your ass for real." You slammed the backpack against his chest causing a whimper to leave his lips.

"Alright bridie, but be careful with me. I'm a delicate guy." He pouted.

Rolling your eyes, you settled into the passenger seat, and Gojo started the car. As you directed him to Kyoko's home, a comfortable silence enveloped the car, only disrupted by the radio's music. Despite the lack of conversation, it didn't feel awkward.

The recent emotional episode played on a loop in your mind. The urge to ask if he was okay lingered, but uncertainty held you back. Sneaking glances at him from the corner of your eyes, you couldn't deny his attractive profile. Everything about him seemed perfect, explaining why everyone seemed captivated by him.

"Eh…" You played with your fingertips. "Gojo." You heard him humming. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah!" It didn't sound genuine. "Don't worry."

You nodded, although you didn't trust his words. He wasn't telling you the truth but you didn't want to pressure him, so you let it be. You closed your eyes and you leaned back in the seat, leaving your mind blank and letting the dim street lights increase your sleep.

At some point you actually fell asleep because the next thing you remember is fingers leaving a strand behind your ear. You opened your eyes and rubbed them, it was already completely night outside.

"Was my car comfortable, bridie?" You nodded still sleepy. "So cute." You heard him softly laugh.

"Huh?" You snapped back and looked at him.

"Good morning or should I say good night?" He titled his head.

"I fell asleep?" He nodded. "Shit, sorry…"

"Don't worry, you looked cute with the drool falling." She teased you as she brought her hand up to touch your chin.

You hit his hand and turned your head to avoid his gaze, you felt like your cheeks were burning at that exact moment. "Gojo, you're an idiot."

He laughed and then cleared his throat. "Mhm… Next Friday we have…" He paused for a moment playing with his hands on the wheel. "We have a basketball game."

"Good luck." Although you knew they didn't need it after all Gojo was there and he was the star of the team, of course.

"I would like you to attend." That tone, was he nervous?

"Gojo, I have to work."

"Talk to Haibara I'm sure he won't mind. Or I will talk with him." You shook your head.

"No." You moved on your seat. "Gojo, tell me something." He hummed. "Why?"

"Why?"

"Yeah, why do you want me to go to the play?"

He fell silent, you could tell he was trying to find an answer. Was it that difficult to tell you why? "Just because?"

"Just because?" You repeated. "That's not an answer Gojo."

He sighed in defeat. "I would like you to be there." He looked at you. "So please come."

Now you were the one that stayed quiet. He wanted you there? Why? Was this a joke? So many questions were formulating in your head and you were feeling so weird about it.

"Birdie?" You came back when you heard his voice. "You ok…"

"I need to leave." Unbucking the seat belt and opening the door. "I'll see you tomorrow in class, right?" To which Gojo nodded. "Good! Then see you tomorrow and treat those wounds so they don't get worse." You got out of the car and turned one last time to say goodbye. "Good, see you! Bye!" And you can swear you ran grabbing all the things and trying not to fall in the front door.

You entered the house and dropped everything to the floor, making a big noise. You touched your forehead, did you have a fever again? No that was not it.

You heard your name and saw Kyoko's mom in front of you. "Honey, you are all red!" She approached you. "Are you sick again?" She said touching your face.

"It's okay, I just… everything was really heavy and I got tired." You looked at the bags.

"Did you bring everything on your own?" She said worried. "You should've called."

"No, no." You shook your head. "A friend helped me out."

"Oh okay honey." She smiled. "Kyoko still hasn't come back."

"Really?" You looked at her with surprise.

She left before you in the morning and was almost dinner. But that was a good thing, She must have been having a good time with Suguru.

"Do you know by any chance the guy she was meeting?"

"Yeah, he goes to the same college as us and it's our age." You smiled. "And don't worry, I think he is a really good guy."

"It's good to hear that. Let me help you with those bags." She took some of the bags and you did the same with the others.

As you unpacked your belongings, primarily clothes, you couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between your wardrobe and Kyoko's. While you leaned towards black attire, Kyoko embraced a more flirtatious style with bows and pastel colors. Despite these differences, your bond remained strong, understanding each other perfectly.

The sound of approaching footsteps and the creak of the door opening interrupted your thoughts, signaling someone's entrance into your room.

"Ah." Kyoko sighed. "I might be in love." She threw herself to your bed.

"Was it a good date?" You said, crossing your legs and looking at her.

"The best." She sighed again. "He was… ugh." She hid her face in your pillow. "He was so attentive, I had never had such a good date."

"Wow." You let out in surprise. "You are for real?" She nodded. "I'm so happy for you Kyoko. Suguru seems like a nice guy."

"Thank you." She smiled. "And how was yours?"

"My what?"

"Your date."

"I didn't have a date, Gojo came to help me study."

"Okay, so your study date." You held a pillow and threw it to her. "Sorry. But did you study?"

"Yeah… He actually helped me a lot." You sighed.

You wanted to tell Kyoko about what happened with Gojo but you felt it was too private to go around telling other people.

"What's up with that sighed?" Kyoko questioned you.

"Nothing, just thinking." You bit your lip, Kyoko probably knew you were hiding something from her. You needed to bring up another topic. "Gojo asked me to go to his match."

Kyoko let out a gasp and crawled over to you so she was facing you. "Next week?" You nodded. "Suguru asked me too!" She grabbed your hands. "We have to go."

"I have to work that day."

"Talk to your coworker…" She put her puppy eyes.

"Don't use those eyes on me." You looked the other way. "But I might talk with him."

"Yay!" Kyoko screamed. "It will be so fun."

Kyoko stayed in your bedroom for the next couple of hours, both of you stayed talking about different things. She also told you more details of her date and so on. It was almost 2 a.m. when you laid down on your bed. You were going to be tired in your classes, but spending time with your best friend as if you were 14 was worth it.

You spent the night reflecting on the unexpected events of Gojo's vulnerability, the request to attend his basketball game, and the strange connection that seemed to be developing. As you drifted into sleep, you wondered about the complexity of relationships and the uncertainties that lay ahead.

Author’s note: fourth chapter done. Ngl the scene of Satoru back hugging birdie was inspired by the scene of Maomao and Jinshi from The Apothecary diaries. Also birdie is starting to be softer when it comes to Satoru, our girl has trust issues

- if you wanna get tagged, comment -

Tag list: @lavender-hvze, @crybabytoru, @sanriosatoru, @norvacaine, @sadmonke, @faetoraa , @hexipessimistic , @gojoful

[britcision]

Happy WIP Wednesday friends! Not a huge deal for you today, but I figured I’d drop the Flashback and give you the last piece in the “Bruce Puts His Head In His Butt” for the night!

(Bruce is tranq’ed by Alfred minutes after the call ends and is put to bed. In my heart. He might actually walk himself up but we all know it’s Alfred’s glare that makes it happen)

Just a taste of chapter 14 of Dead and Loving It, you can find the fic on AO3 or from my pinned post which is the latest chapter, but links to the first and all subsequent chapters are in each post!

———————

A Good Excuse To Be A Bad Influence

Jason was actually on his way to bed on time for once in his life, the early end to patrol and lack of crime lord duties giving him a chance to get a full five hours sleep.

He should have known he wouldn’t get lucky two nights in a row; Constantine wasn’t around to distract Bruce anymore.

He’d contemplated not answering. Contemplated trying not to shoot Bruce in half an hour if the fucker showed up at his window.

The pit growled.

It was the worst thing he’d ever heard. The worst thing he’d ever felt. And he did feel it, vibrating in his very bones.

It sent shivers creeping up and down, muscles tensing as if to run away from something inside him.

He answered the call, hoping it wouldn’t show in his voice.

“What.” Flat, unfriendly. Not encouraging conversation.

“You didn’t come to the cave.” B’s voice was equally flat, but in his case it sounded like a condemnation. An accusation.

Jason gritted his teeth.

“I have shit to do in the morning. Make it quick,” he snapped, giving his bed a glare it definitely didn’t deserve.

His pillows had never done anything to hurt him.

There was a momentary pause before B audibly decided not to push it.

Good.

Jason was in a mood to bite.

“We have intel on the Infinite Realms. I’ve sent the report. You need to stay away from Danny Fenton, for your health,” B said, still cold, still clinical.

Like he didn’t care. Like what Jason wanted didn’t matter.

Jason’s grip tightened and the phone case cracked.

“Yeah, no. Fuck off.” He spat the words, adding “get new phone” to his list of chores for the morning.

He’d been doing so well with this one. Of course Bruce had to ruin it.

At least the old man didn’t seem surprised by his reaction.

“Jason. It… he. His abilities may affect your condition,” he said slowly, sounding tired. Old.

The pit snarled, sensing weakness, and Jason kinda wished he was still lost in its rage. Back when he was, it was easy just to hate those moments.

B showing signs of humanity fucking hurt.

“He is. He’s making it better,” he shot back, brooking no argument.

“We don’t know that, Jason. Please, just… just for a few days. Until we can talk to the League, understand what he’s doing to you.”

Was.

Was that Bruce begging?

It froze something small and soft in Jason’s chest, stuck him in place. And did nothing to stop the flood of icy rage from filling him up.

Filling his chest, crushing his lungs, making it hard to breathe. Because of course, anyone and everyone else’s judgement was worth more to the man than Jason’s.

Begging Jason to listen to him, when he would never, ever, fucking ever listen to Jason. When it didn’t fucking matter if Jason begged.

“And why the fuck would the League know better than a doctor from the Realms?” He finally snapped, ignoring the way his throat tightened.

There was a long silence.

“A doctor?” Bruce asked softly, his voice still so flat and emotionless that only his kids could have read the confusion. Jason rolled his eyes.

“Danny brought me to a doctor. I’m gonna be fine,” he ground out reluctantly, part of him resenting Bruce’s constant insistence on knowing everything.

But… well. If it got the guy off his fucking back.

There was a long silence, one that Jason was fully aware B was likely spending working this new information into his latest paranoid fantasy.

Jason seriously considered just hanging up and going to bed. He was about to do it when Bruce spoke again.

“Would this doctor be willing to speak to the League?” And there it was again, Batman voice, clinical and distant and always, always fucking suspicious.

Jason rolled his eyes harder. With emphasis. Willing to be interrogated by first the Justice League and then separately also goddamn Batman.

Actually, now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure B wouldn’t get anywhere with Frostbite. Frostbite took his work seriously and was, yeah, king of a full realm of yetis.

None of Bruce’s pointed silences, menacing looming, or vague growls would bug the guy who got Danny through Fucked Up Ghost Puberty.

(And would probably be helping Jason through his own Fucked Up Ghost Puberty… joy of joys.)

It might actually be fun to see him try. If just being here wouldn’t put Frostbite in danger, because hell fucking no that wasn’t happening. The guy may not be his king but Jason would still die first.

But of course, in all his paranoid bullshit about the Realms influencing Gotham, B had somehow conveniently missed what America was doing to the Realms.

Like Jason hadn’t even done the full write up.

“Not while the fucking League are required to hand him right to the US government for torture and experimentation. Which, by the way, did you read my report on the Anti Ecto Acts?” Jason asked sarcastically, doing his very worst fake concern.

And again he was met with silence. Fuck, maybe Bruce hadn’t read it. Jason had dropped it in the day before all this gala bullshit had started, and it had been a busy two days since.

Maybe B deadass hadn’t put the pieces together. Might as well hammer it home for him.

“You know, the one that says you, me, Cass, and Damian are all non-sentient because we’ve been exposed to the pits?” Jason added, eyes narrowing.

Which wasn’t technically true, since it was the resulting liminality and ability to process ectoplasm that made them count, but Bruce didn’t need to know that yet.

Finally he spoke again, voice gruff and clipped.

“I’m looking into it. But for now, Jason, please-” he said again, the cover of Batman beginning to slip.

But Jason was done. No fucking chance Bruce was giving him orders when he hadn’t even bothered asking for Jason’s opinion.

He wanted to spout off about dangers of the Infinite Realms after talking to some wet paper bag of a man who hawked his soul like it was a pokemon card. Hard pass.

And even after hearing that Jason knew what was going on a damn sight better than Bruce did, he still wanted to push him around?

Fuck that.

“Sorry B, legally non-sentient, guess I can’t be blamed for my actions,” he drawled, then turned his phone off and dropped into bed.

He had a lot of shit to do before picking Danny up in the morning.

——————-

Jason will be using “legally non-sentient” as an excuse long after the laws themselves are repealed, and just you fucking wait until Damian hears he can try it too 😏

Sorry Bruce, Damian can’t socialize today, he’s legally non-sentient and can’t be blamed if he bites someone

Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson @asphyxia778

[yume-chin]

I don't want to… but this is goodbye

So, I'll start by saying that all the requests that have come to me have not been forgotten, I'm taking a little longer because between university and health I haven't had much time available.

I would also like to post some stuff that I left in the drafts so I'll slowly get everything out, I swear.

••═════════════════════════════════════════••

Miles G. Morales (earth 42) x Reader

Pov: You were sent to Earth-42 to help with crime and what was supposed to be a week-long mission ended up becoming your daily life for years, but now, you've been contacted to go back and will have to say goodbye to the life you had created there.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Request: No

Warning: just bad english and angst

Genre: She/her

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Total words: 1414

Text words: 1212

••═════════════════════════════════════════••

It was supposed to be a quiet one day of spring.

You should have gotten up, gotten ready with all the tranquility in the world and you should have met your friends for breakfast.

You were supposed to go to class and at the end of class you were supposed to spend your day with your boyfriend.

You would have studied, listened to some music, you would have enjoyed each other's company in the most beautiful silence you could wish for.

That comfortable silence that only two people linked by a strong feeling could create.

But no. Your entire organization was destroyed by a piece of news that put a bad taste in your mouth.

After all these years, the fateful news had arrived that you would have to return home.

You had wished with all your being that this day would never come. You dreamed of being able to stay there and live the life you had created for yourself but as they say, you can't run away from your destiny.

You had been sent to Earth 42 by Miguel, you were supposed to stay there for a couple of weeks to study the crime situation that oppressed the city and then return to headquarters to discuss what was best to do to solve the problem.

Instead they asked you to stay there to start fighting crime, from time to time other spider-people would arrive for support but you had been officially assigned to that case and so the weeks became months, and then they became years. In all this time you had the opportunity to make friends, create an alternative life, parallel to the Spider-girl life you had, and above all, meet a person who had conquered you with his way of doing things. Miles Morales.

He started out like a bully in class who had suddenly decided that you would become his favorite victim, and instead you don't remember how, you ended up being a real couple, so much so that your friends always made fun of you.

You thought that by now, with all the time that had passed, you would stay there but instead all your certainties crumbled that morning, when as soon as you woke up you received a call from Miguel informing you of the excellent work I had done there and that it had now arrived time to go home.

It was such a huge blow that you didn't have the courage to go to school, not because you were afraid of who knows what, but because you wouldn't have been able to handle another day there with the current knowledge that it would be your last day there. You should have said goodbye to everything and everyone, your friends, your teachers but above all, your boyfriend.

You informed your friends that you wouldn't be there this morning for health reasons and they all looked so worried, your heart sank.

All your thoughts then went to Miles and sadness took over your body, how would he react? Would he hate you forever? Would you ever see him again? They were all questions that ran through your brain but you couldn't give a real answer to them, you could only make hypotheses.

Your thoughts were caught by an insistent knock on the door.

You wanted to ignore everything but the need to know who was knocking won over everything.

You stood up and headed for the door. A sigh to free you from the anxiety came out of your mouth and you finally found the courage to open the door.

Panic.

Your blood froze in your veins. You weren't ready for that confrontation.

A particularly annoyed and worried Miles stood in front of you. He looked at you with wide eyes.

-Are you OK? What do you have? - he asked without giving you time to formulate a real meaningful sentence.

You stood there looking at him, surprised by his arrival. He should have had class right now.

-So?!- he insisted, obviously annoyed.

-Shouldn't you be in class now?- you asked to try in every way to divert the dialogue that terrified you so much.

-I know what you're trying to do, answer my question. What did you do?- he insisted, not taking his eyes off you for even a second.

-I wasn't feeling very well… that's all- the excuse came out of your mouth without thinking too much.

-Bullshit!- he looked you straight in the eyes -tell me the truth right away, I'm not going to stay here and listen to these lies-

-I'm not lying- you tried to answer but was blocked in no time -I know you, I know you're not sick, I can read you like an open book and you know it-

Your gaze dropped, a lump formed in your throat, panic took hold of you, your heart pounded and tears threatened to spill. It was an extremely stressful situation.

-Do you want to give me an answer then?!- he raised his voice a little, making you look up in surprise

-I... I have to go home...- time seemed to freeze. Miles didn't respond, just stood there staring at you.

-I received a call today... and... I have to go home...-

-What does it mean?- I look into your eyes insistently. You couldn't decipher that look, it was different, it wasn't a look of anger, not even of sadness, it seemed... fear?

-I'm leaving this evening...-

-Is this a way of telling me you're leaving me?!-

-I don't want to... but this is goodbye...-

There was a long moment of silence that was shortly broken by Miles' angry voice

-You didn't want to tell me...?- his gaze lowered as he clenched his fists.

-It's not like that... I would have told you...- you tried to get closer but Miles moved your hand away as it was about to rest on his shoulder.

-Oh yes? And when exactly? When did you already leave?! - I look at you with that look full of pain and disappointment.

-It's not like that love-

-DON'T CALL ME LOVE!- your heart skipped a beat due to the reaction and pain of that sentence.

-Miles…- you tried to get closer again to try to fix the already quite critical situation but he moved away.

-Have a good trip.- he said ironically and then left.

You wanted to chase him, hold him close, cry, but you stayed there, heartbroken, watching him go.

You couldn't feel bad, you shouldn't even have created this situation.

You were on a mission, you knew it. As you also knew that sooner or later you would have to say goodbye to everything, you just didn't think it would be so difficult and painful.

By now you couldn't do anything anymore, the mission was over and for everyone's good you had to return to normality, for what normality meant to you.

You looked one last time in the direction where Miles disappeared and then returned to your room to unpack all your bags.

Your heart hurts, but you know you've left the good of the behindcity ​​where the boy you love lives andused was enough for you to be happy. Or at least it waswhat you were looking forconvince yourself.

••═════════════════════════════════════════••

If obviously you have any requests for spider-man into the spider-verse/ across the spider-verse please come forward.

I also want to tell you that I have other ideas for the continuation so if I see that people are interested I will try to write a second part.

I hope you liked it

A hug ♡

[looniez]

What do you think Link and Zelda did togheter during the time betqeen botw and totk

I'VE THOUGHT VERY HARD ABOUT THIS

this wound up being on the longer side so i'm putting it all under the cut!

a few years have passed between BOTW and TOTK. they don't give us an exact amount of time, but based on context clues it's safe to assume that anywhere between 5-7 years have passed. personally, i think it's likely been 5 years. that's a considerable chunk of time.

i am very firmly in the camp that link and zelda, by the time TOTK rolls around, are a couple. either that, or they've at least vocalized their feelings for each other but have yet to label anything. the baseline is that they very obviously love each other.

post BOTW (but before the epilogue), i think that link brings zelda back to hateno immediately after freeing her. it's important to him that she has a safe place to recuperate and heal and knows that his home is the perfect place to take her.

he makes sure she eats and has plenty to drink. he makes sure she's doing okay. he offers her his bed (more like insists) and keeps a careful eye on her. zelda would feel guilty and maybe feel like she's intruding or being a burden, but link wouldn't hear it and would shut it down quickly.

link sleeps on the floor in the nook beneath the stairs for the first few nights because he wants her to have space and privacy. he usually winds up upstairs to wake her from bad dreams anyway. zelda doesn't sleep well (neither does he) and eventually, link starts sleeping either next to or at the foot of the bed to be close by if she needs him (he needs her just as much). sometimes, he holds her hand and sits with her until she falls back asleep. those nights, he keeps an eye on her. they get closer as the weeks go by and fall back into old patterns from 100 years ago. link remembers more.

when they set out to investigate the divine beasts, it feels so similar to their time traveling together from before. everything is different, but it's like nothing has changed in a way. after, they return to hateno. it's home for them both now without it needing to be verbally agreed upon.

she tells him that he's no longer obligated to follow her anymore and that he's free. zelda feels guilty. link tells her that he's not staying by her side out of an obligation, or because of some century-old duty. he wants to. he chooses her. he would follow her to the ends of the earth.

zelda builds the school. link stays by her side like glue. they fall into a routine, build a sense of normalcy, and live a life with each other as if they are each other's center of gravity.

eventually, they start sharing the bed. it was bound to happen sooner or later. link wound up beside her most nights anyway (this was zelda's exact reasoning. she insisted it was ridiculous for him to continue sleeping on the floor). they sleep much better beside each other.

they keep up the work of trying to rebuild hyrule. they stick by each other's sides through it all.

i really do think that at some point in between BOTW and TOTK, they wind up together. it just feels right to me. even before confirming it, i think that they both understand that their relationship isn't that of just friends, but they might still feel hesitant to cross that line for fear of ruining what they've so carefully built together. the mutual pining is UNREAL!

eventually, it comes out one way or another. they kiss.

when the gloom starts to appear around the kingdom and they head off to investigate under the castle, they are doing so the same way they do everything else: together.

[gremlin-bot]

Growth of Trial and Error

So, I lied about this being put on the back burner apparently. It feels so good to post this after working on it for like two months. I hope y'all enjoy this 5 + 1 fic that was bate read by the wonderful @half-dead-ham !!! This fic also connects my other fics in my 'Petals and Arrays of The Dead and Those Yet To Be' series.

AO3 Link: here

—------ 1

Danny and Tim have been dating for a little over a month and a half. In that time they have tried to have a date night once every week… It ends up once every two weeks with random visits for a cuddle date. Danny blames the Observants and Gotham rogues for being bitches. There's only so many times that the restaurant they have reservations at somehow gets hit in an attack before they just give up on restaurants all together.

This is one of those cuddle dates. Danny was laying with his eyes closed on Tim's couch with a star pattern blanket wrapped around him. He's waiting for Tim to get back to back with popcorn so they can watch the Knives Out movies. Why would Tim want to watch murder mysteries when he literally helps solve crime as his nightly activities Danny would never get, that being said he had no room to talk. He himself often fights ghosts for fun now. It's good stress relief from royal duties. 

Speaking of royal duties, Danny was sick of paperwork and meetings. Being Ghost King was one almost useless meeting after another with even more useless paperwork to go with each one. He swears, if the Observants ask for another meeting about making more court trials he will find a way to revive them from never being alive and end them himself. All that doesn't matter at the moment because he has a tired boyfriend to cuddle, once he stops taking so long in the kitchen.

Danny opens his eyes to see Tim with a small loving smile on his face. One that Danny can't help but return.

"Aww, it's almost like you got flowers in your lungs for me again!" Danny teases 

"Hey! You have no room to talk, Mr. Blood Blossoms!" Tim's blush only gets worse with Danny's light laughter.

"Yeah, yeah and I'll never live that down." Tim rolls his eyes at the pun. Why did he have to bring another person who likes puns into his life, wasn't Dick enough? Danny lifts one side of the blanket.

"Come on sweetheart, get in here." Now how can Tim say no to that? He sets down the popcorn and the veggie tray Bruce insisted they have. Tim dives into Danny and settles in for a good old murder mystery.

They get half way through the first movie when things go wrong. 

"God these guys are assholes, you'd think that after hearing one person getting excluded they would worry about the possibility of it happening to themselves!" Danny says, grabbing a handful of popcorn from its bowl.

"I hate that I've met people like this at galas." Tim groans. 

"I hope they crash and burn. Marta deserves the inheritance at this point." Danny ends his point by popping pieces of popcorn in his mouth.

As the scene on screen changes, so does the one in Tim's living room. Danny really can't have a nice day off.

A ripping sound is hard over the cacophony of the TV. A portal to the Infinite Realms appears next to it, effectively ruining their cuddle date night. As the Observant floats out into the living room, Danny can't help but feel like he is forgetting something. 

…Oh, oh no. 

Danny realized what he forgot to tell Tim.

He is the ghost king and Tim has no fucking clue.

Oh Ancients, Tim is going to kill him a second time. That's a future Danny problem, present Danny has to handle an Observant with an uninformed vigilante boyfriend laying on top of him. 

Tim has yet to move as he is in his civvies but Danny can feel him tensing. In an attempt at comfort and making sure Tim stays in place, Danny squeezes Tim to his chest and lets out soft rumbling from his core. A signal to the other that everything will be okay, he still doesn't relax.

The Observant was impatiently waiting for Danny's acknowledgement. It doesn't wait long, not because Danny answered but because it ran out of the little bit of patience it had in the first place. The mutual disdain the Observants and Danny hold for each other is great, but Danny will always commit more than the Observants. So yes, Danny could make this easier for himself and Tim, but no. He has principals!

"King Phantom, us Observants wish to schedule a meeting with you regarding the court-'' the eyeball in a sad imagination of jello didn't get to finish its request. It got cut off by Danny's sigh.

"If it's about the same thing as before, no. As stated in the Court Acts section 12a, you can't give out Court hearings without proper approval by an Ancient and myself. Nor can a trial proceed without a pre-approved Ancient or ghost of similar position from outside the Observant branch." Danny's blank stare fixed itself on the unwanted goo encased eyeball, daring it to rebuttal.

"Yes, of course King Phantom. I will tell the others." The Observant grits out. Its goo flesh scrunching in a poor imitation of a disgruntled face. It rips open a portal to the Infinite Realms and leaves without further pestering.

Danny lifts his arm. He can hear Tim's mind trying to piece together what happened. 

"Hey, Tim? Beloved? Are you good?" Danny is starting to think that this might have broken his boyfriend. It's been a good 30 seconds since The Observant left and Tim hasn't moved. Maybe he's rebooting? As Danny is pondering the mental state of the man he's supposed to be cuddling, said man decided to roll off of him landing in a crouch.

Tim looks Danny in the eyes and says with all his heart, "What the fuck, Danny?!" 

Oh Danny might be a little fucked.

—--------

Tim is going to kill and revive his boyfriend for a second time, if he doesn't explain right now.

"So, I may have forgotten to tell you something important." Danny placates.

"Oh! What gave it away? The probable high powered ghost that portaled into my living room and broke the TV in the middle of our date, or the fact you responded to them with higher authority!" Tim's sass is amplified by the TV blinking to life and giving a static scream. 

Danny breathes in through clenched teeth, face slightly scrunched. It was adorable, making it hard for Tim to stay upset. "I'm sorry Tim. I didn't mean to keep anything from you, I just forgot you didn't know already and I just don't talk about it by default. You know I'm not used to not being around my parents and they don't know about any of-" 

"Danny, hun, you're starting to ramble. I know how it is with your parents but please explain now.”

“Sorry, I’ll start at the beginning. So, you know how I told you how I became a teen hero after my half-death.”

“Yeah…” Tim switches from crouching to sitting on the floor, eyes squinting at Danny with suspicion. He doesn’t like where this is going.

“So, there was this one time my town was pulled into the infinite realms by the old ghost king. So I had to fight him. I won in the end but, Oh the consequences of these actions."

"Oh no."Tim said quietly, reeling at the possibilities of what the downfall of a king could be.

"Fun fact, the right to the throne is earned through trial by combat. It would have been fine if not for the Realms showing affection for me. You can't argue with the semi-sentient realm between realms," Danny sighed.

“Semi-sentient in what way??! How did it show affection for you?? What do you mean it would have been fine??" What exactly was Danny involved with? Tim thought it was just ghost wrangling. He knew he should have tried harder to contact Constantine about ghosts. Doesn't matter at the moment, nothing could have prepared him for this.

"I don't know how but the Infinite Realms are just like that. It might have to do with the fact that it's where all the dead end up, so technically all lands of the dead, but I just work there." Danny shrugged, all too used to the Infinite Realms' brand of being.

"Danny, Alnilam, my dearest boyfriend, I mean this with my entire heart and soul, what the fuck?" Tim lets his head slump into Danny's arm. He was done for the day and the next two after that. He just wants to watch some murder mysteries with Danny and deal with the Ghost King shit later. It was the first day off of both Wayne Enterprises and any major case he’s had in weeks. 

The TV's static increased in volume for a moment before setting down, as if mocking him. He side eyes the TV.

"Sweetheart, if you stop glaring at the TV and give me like 5 minutes, I can fix it." Danny lightly chuckled. 

"Fine, I want to see if I'm right about what is actually going on." Tim knows who did it, he's just waiting to be proven right.

"Hey! Don't spoil it!! Not everyone is a smartass." Danny sheds the blanket as he stands, "Are you going to join me on the couch when I'm done, or are you brooding?"

"Yet here you are calling me a smartass." Tim rolled his eyes. Switching from the floor to the couch and stealing Danny's blanket in the process. He's allowed to be a bit petty. It's what he deserves after this ordeal and the ones to come when they talk in depth, but that's for later. Right now, he gets to go back to watching murder mysteries with his boyfriend.

—------- 2

Danny woke up the next day with Tim's head on his chest and a crick in his neck. That's what he gets for falling asleep during cuddle night. Carefully, he reaches for his phone, trying his best to not wake up Tim. Ancients knows how much that boy needs sleep. 

Checking the time Danny sighs. He has a meeting with the Ancients in half an hour. Looks like he will have to wake him up… or turn intangible and let him be. Danny debates for a minute before deciding fuck it. He makes himself intangible slowly, eventually Tim is laying on the couch still peacefully asleep. 

He carefully floats out of Tim's space and onto the floor. Turning tangible turns into a problem, as Danny apparently can't watch where he pops into existence. His foot ends up in his water bottle. Losing his balance he falls and hits the floor hard, this of course wakes up Tim.

"Danny, what are you doing?" Tim groggily asks.

"Trying not to wake you up while I leave for a meeting. As you can see, I failed." Danny says from the floor, not having moved yet. "I'm just going to transform right here on the floor in shame" 

"Transform?" Tim blinked, adjusting so he could fully look at Danny.

"Yeah, so I can get to the meeting on time... Wait. Tim, did you forget that I can transform?" Danny sits up, making eye contact with Tim.

"No I didn't forget, you never told me!"

"I told you the night we started dating," Danny laughs.

"Okay maybe I forgot, but it's not my fault," Tim counters.

"Oh, and how is that?" Danny teases.

"Well someone told me that he was getting severely injured by the Blood Blossoms that were in his lungs. So, forgive me for missing some details!"  

"Okay, okay, you win. I did go to my ghost doctor after, you know.”

"Good. Don't you have a meeting to get to?"

"Oh shit! Close your eyes, my transformation is a bit bright." Danny shoots up and transforms in the process. Grabbing his things around the room he almost missed Tim's reaction. If it wasn't for Tim's gasp. 

Danny turns to face Tim, his face is flushed as his eyes take in Danny's ghost form. Danny's growing smirk just makes Tim's blush darker.

"See something you like?" Danny teases, his smirk growing wicked.

"Shut up and go to your meeting!!" Tim throws a throw pillow at Danny, only for Danny to turn intangible. He didn't even have the decency to dodge.

"I'm going now, goodbye sweetheart." Danny rips open a portal with his claws, diving through just as he hears Tim's goodbye.

—---------- 3

It took two weeks for Tim to succumb to the need for information. Danny should have expected this from one of the world's greatest detectives, but the call he received at 4:16am was still a jarring surprise. He almost fell out of bed trying to answer his phone. Tim is lucky that he wasn't asleep yet. 

After a slight struggle, Danny finally answered the call "Tim, sweetheart, what could you need at this fine 4am?"

"Are you technically a god? Because according to this glowing book I got my hands on-" Tim sounds like he's been on a research binge for an unhealthy amount of time.

"Please tell me you didn't use your vigilante status to steal a book about the Infinite Realms from the Justice League's magic team or whatever they’re called."

"I may have but anyway- wait." Tim stopped mid sentence, like he was reviewing information. Danny has no clue what it could be, but he did know that it would make the conversion complicated. "I didn't tell you I was a vigilante. How did you figure it out?"

"You don't change your voice at all when ordering coffee as Red Robin." Danny says flatly. 

"That's fair and also explains why you were okay with me canceling dates last minute. I should invest in a voice changer or something."

"I think you'll be fine, sweetheart. I have a habit of remembering voices of people I’m crushing on, and heightened hearing makes that a little easier."

"If you say so… I'm still gonna look into it." Danny can hear Tim's typing pick up. At this rate the both of them won't be going to sleep anytime soon. 

"I'm not going to ask how long you've been awake, but for your own health and mine please stop researching and get some rest. Even the dead are asleep right now." Danny pleads. He knows that they both have things to do later in the day, and Danny doesn't want to fall asleep during his classes.

Tim sighs, "Fine, but after your class tomorrow can you actually answer all my questions?"

"Yes, Hun. Now get away from the computer and go to bed." Danny lightly chuckled.

"I’m going, I'm going." Danny can hear the eye roll in Tim's voice. "Night Danny, sweet dreams." 

"Goodnight Tim." Danny smiled as the call ended. Glad that he could get his workaholic boyfriend to go to bed, he relaxes back into his own bed and lets sleep take him.

—------- 4 

Tim was on the fire escape connected to Danny's apartment. Hoping to break in and set up his notebooks and other things he collected in his research into the Ghost King and by association the Infinite Realms. Unfortunately for him Danny's last class ended early, as can be seen as Danny entering his own apartment the same time Tim crawls through the window. Tim knows he looks like a kid caught red-handed faking a nonexistent Uncle, Danny's deadpan stare didn't make it better. 

"Hey, Danny…" Tim drawls as one of his notebooks falls from his grip to the floor.

"Tim, you could have used the door like a normal person." Danny sighed as he set his bag down. Tim took this time to set up on the floor with his notes spread on the coffee table. "Notebooks? That's not usually your style?"

"Yeah, I would have done my usual spreadsheets and docs but apparently Infinite Realms information crashes any and all tech. So, it's old school for now."

"Oh! Yeah, I forgot about that. I can fix that problem for you while we talk, just give me your tablet, or would you prefer your laptop?"

"Tablet please. Would you mind explaining what you're doing to it while fixing it?" Tim was ecstatic, he loved watching Danny work on his inventions. The methodical way Danny assembled work is a wonderful contrast to how they were made; chaotic and from almost nothing.

Danny's smile was absolutely smitten when he turned back to Tim with his tools. "Of course sweetheart. What do you have to ask me?"

"Okay, so I have a lot, so this is going to take a while." Tim starts as he opens a fresh notebook, pen at the ready.

It was hours of revelations and notebook after notebook. Danny was patient and explained everything the best he could. Tim was pretty sure Danny would ask for his notes after this with how thorough he's being. He honestly wouldn't be this thorough unless it was for a case, but Danny can't remember to tell anyone anything important for the life (death) of him.

"Yeah, parts of the Realms are just kinda ocean-like randomly, so if you visit we have to watch out for that." Danny explained with little fanfare.

"Why are the Infinite Realms like this?" Tim groans emphatically.

"I don't know, man. I just accept and deal with it," Danny replies with a shrug.

"Speaking of things you deal with, you can get summoned, right?"

"Yeah, I can ignore them, technically, but it's like a ringing that keeps getting louder and more annoying till I answer it."

"Huh, interesting. So, does that mean it can be used as an excuse to get out of meetings?" Tim asks with mischief lacing his words

"I… holy shit, I think it can!!!" Tim can see the excitement spread across Danny's face at the realization.

"We are trying it for our next cuddle night, if what is in this book is correct." Tim hands Danny the book he took from Justice League Dark. It's open to a summoning array with instructions underneath it.

"Oh, this is wrong. The array itself is good but the instructions on placement and gifts are either wrong or too vague."

"Oh? I should tell JLD, then." 

"Nah, don't. It'll keep me from getting summoned, plus they can always ask you if they need to summon me. Seeing that I'm giving you the correct one."

"Fair, but you better give me all the materials for it then."

"Tim, if it's you summoning me all you need is a small offering and a drop of your blood." Tim looks at Danny in confusion. Danny shakes his head in amusement. "The closer I am to a person, the less required to summon me. At some point all you need is the array and a bit of your blood."

"Oh, that's pretty smart and seems like a perfect way to cause trouble for others" a sly smile spills onto his face, thinking about all the possibilities this could bring.

"Oh, yeah! The amount of times Sam has summoned me at galas is too many to count." Danny's grin is unnaturally wide, with too sharp canines that make Tim swoon as Danny launches into a story of gala shenanigans.

—----- 5

Danny was curled around Tim in his ghost form, acting as an ice pack for his boyfriend's sore ribs. The idiot was overtaxing himself on patrol and took one too many hits. Danny doesn't mind some ghostly cuddling, but he would like it if Tim looked after himself more.

Tim relaxes into Danny more as he types away on his computer. Danny glances at Tim's screen to see that he is looking into the effects the Infinite Realms has on the mortal realm. Which would be sweet if he wasn't using it as a distraction from being banned from current cases.

"Tim, you're supposed to be resting. You know, off the laptop?" Danny lifts his head from Tim's shoulder to actually look at him in the eyes. 

Tim sighed, not stopping his typing. "This is resting, I'm barely even hacking into the government." 

"Why are you like this?"

"The trauma,” he replied sarcastically. “But anyway, it looks like the government was doing experiments at one point but stopped." Tim hummed as the clicking of the keyboard picked up speed.

“Oh, that’s just the Ghost Investigation Ward.” Danny lets his head drop to his boyfriend’s shoulder, closing his eyes. Tim’s typing only quickened with time and the new information given to him.

“Danny, why are there files about their multiple attempted captures of you, and different files detailing experiment plans that involve vivisecting you‽” Tim was no longer relaxed against Danny’s body.

“I thought they deleted those.” Danny srutines the screen, looking for anything to tell him what has happened to the plans. There in the top right corner is what he was looking for. “Sweetheart, the plans have been defunct, like we worked out when they were getting their shit together.”

“They hunted you for sport,” Tim’s unimpressed stare bore into the side of Danny’s head.

“They got better… morally.Not at the hunting thing,” Danny sighed. “Look, before senior year Tucker, Sam, and I spent the whole summer essentially reforming them. It took a lot of effort but they are ethical now, and even helped fix the shit they wrecked. I promise you they aren't a problem anymore.” Danny pleads.

“Fine.” Tim relents for a moment. "How did you even get them to reform? From what I've read they were pretty biased." 

Danny's carefree smile turns sharp. "Blackmail and aggressively shoving evidence to prove them wrong in their faces."

Tim lets out a fond huff as he rolled his eyes, as if he hasn't done worse as Robin. Tim finally lets himself relax, body goes limp against the cold form wrapped around him. A yawn escapes as he feels the pull of sleep cling to him.

“Tired enough to sleep now?” Amusement colored Danny’s voice.

Tim closes his laptop and sets it on a part of the couch not occupied. “Yeah, carry me to bed?” 

Danny chuckled as he gently picked up the injured boy and floated them to Tim's bed.

—----- +1

When Tim walked into Danny's apartment he didn't expect to see him putting what was probably Lazarus water into small vials. It looked like he had been doing this for a while. There were several different bags full of the glowing vials with the one he was filling now being one of the last.

"Danny, what are you doing?" Tim asked the dark haired boy, already expecting what the answer might be.

"Remember how I'd said I would look into the Lazarus pits for Jason?" Danny replies as he reaches for more empty vials. Tim hums and moves the vials closer to him. “Turns out to do that I need a shit ton of samples for Frostbite, so here we are.”

Tim sets his things down and settles into helping his boyfriend. "How was dealing with the League of assassins?"

"It was fine. They didn’t notice me, surprisingly.” Danny shrugs, putting more filled vials away.

“I wouldn’t say it was surprising they don’t know about ghosts.” Tim points out.

“Fair. I had a look around, they have a lot of interesting things in their base.”

“Oh, did you take anything besides the lazarus water?” Tim wonders what caught Danny’s attention. From what he remembers it could be just about anything from swords to priceless pieces of art.

“No, but I did see what I’m pretty sure was a spleen in a jar!” Danny’s smile grew almost inhumanly big. “Tim, get this! It was fucking labeled! Labeled!” Danny’s excitement is clear in his voice. Tim couldn’t completely focus on it. He only knows of one spleen that was removed under the care of the league. 

“What was it labeled?” Tim asked, nervousness creeping into his voice. Please don’t be his spleen.

Danny’s giggling was barely contained as he answered, “Ra's al Ghul’s emotional support spleen. Outsourced from RR.”

“HE PICKLED MY SPLEEN!!” Tim shouts, startling Danny into almost dropping the vial in his hand. 

Danny looks at Tim in confusion for a solid five seconds before Tim saw a look of realization bloom on his face. “Oh Ancients, RR stands for Red Robin. What the fuck!  Wait, you’re missing your spleen! How did your spleen end up there??” Danny’s distress only rises as Tim doesn't answer him.

“So. I may have forgotten to tell you something.” Tim says as his clearly innocent smile wobbles with hidden laughter.

“You think so‽” sarcasm dripping from Danny’s voice. “Ancients Tim! Is this how you felt with me?”

“Yes. Suffer.” Tim didn’t mean for this to happen but he will take this happy coincidence for everything it has.

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