#yes tulip gets to come trick or treating

[aayakashii]

Coffee shop AU... Coffee shop AU save me... (towa talks during the day in this I guess)

Towa's face lights up like a thousand stars as he sees you timidly get in line yet another day while he made the order for the customers right in front of you.

His instinct was telling him to trash the cups of coffee and push them out of the way so he could talk to you once and for all, but he knew humans wouldn't be very keen on being treated like that.

And unfortunately, for him, if he wanted to stay at the dorm with Haru and that bastard Ren, he had to behave.

Boooooooring.

However, all things come with a positive side to it, and this one is very obvious: it gives him more time to plan his strategy for this day.

Because Towa is going to get you to say your real name to him today. He is going to have your real name. He IS. He swears on Thor's name, and also Zeus' and Taranis' and Indra's and Raijin's and Perun's and— and—

... Well. He doesn't know the name of any other lightning god. But that's not the point!

The thing is, you know of his tricks. The mist that surrounds him as a disguise – the one thing that makes normal humans look at him and not notice his goat-like eyes – simply doesn't work on you. Like you are made of breeze, and his fog dissipates before your eyes, baring his true nature only to you.

You know he isn't human, and worst of all; you know he is a fae.

No, wait. Maybe the worst thing is that you actually know all the rules when it comes to dealing with fae people, and it made you immune to his insistence and his charms.

Yes, that's the real tragedy.

The customers in front of you leave with their orders, and you approach the counter with a friendly smile on your face.

As if he hasn't tried to get your name so so so many times before.

At least you've been consistent with your pseudonyms. So far, he's gotten Rosemary, Lily, Basil, Daffodil, Tulip, Daisy, Iris, Dahlia, Aster, Clover, Marigold, Amaryllis...

Towa actually kept a list of all these names because some of them would repeat some times and he needed to check if you were finally being honest or if it was a ruse once again.

A ruse! Can you believe it? A mere human trying to trick a fae!

If it wasn't so interesting and amusing, Towa would probably have burned you into a crisp with a lightning.

"Hello, Mr. Bartender." you say, with a small bow.

"Hello! What can I do for you today?" Towa beams at you with a smile, half hoping this would catch you off guard, half actually happy that you were around.

"Well, you know. The usual."

"The usual being...?" he hovers his pen over the cup, making circles, waiting for you to tell him your order.

Do you really think he remembers every little order his customers ask? He's a fae, not a fucking elephant. Humans are insane.

"Arabic coffee with milk and vanilla."

"Arabic coffee with milk and va–" he murmurs, writing down, before stopping and glaring at you with a deadly stare. "A vanilla latte?"

You grin mischievously at him and nod frantically, stuffing your hands in your pocket, clearly satisfied to have played a little prank on him once again.

Towa breathes deeply.

"Think of Haru. I can't kill customers. I can't kill customers. Think of Haru and the dorm and the rent. I can't kill customers" he chants to himself in his mind as he pouts angrily and scribbles down your order.

Well, he wouldn't kill you anyway. You're too cute for that.

Towa quickly finishes preparing your order, the motions of making drinks already second nature to him after all those months pretending to be just a weirder human with a normal job.

He watches through the corner of his eyes as you patiently wait against the counter, fidgeting with your fingers, apparently eager to take the drink with you. Towa walks towards your spot with your vanilla latte in hand and lazily places it right in front of you.

He waits with bated breath for the moment you finally grab the cup, only to pounce on you like a hungry predator finally catching its stupid little prey.

"What's your name?" he frantically asks, quickly putting his long, slender fingers on top of your weak hands, barely paying attention at the way you wince at the burn of the hot cup on your skin.

Your frown melts away as you observe his pink eyes, those rectangular pupils that, for whatever reason, never seemed to baffle or intrigue any other customer.

He is so cute. That light lavender hair, all tousled, makes you think of flower fields, petrichor, and morning dew.

But you know he is also quite the dangerous creature. Just like a poisonous plant. Pretty, inviting, and deadly. His insistence on knowing your actual name and shackling you to his whims and desires made you shudder as much as it made you just a little bit prideful.

What? How many people can confidently say they've attracted the attention of a fae, after all?

You sigh loudly, closing your eyes for a second, steadying your resolve. You were not going to give in to him. At least not yet. Maybe once you get an actual death wish, you'd give up your independence to the cute fae barista next door to your job.

You open your eyes and feel a lopsided smile grow on your face, and you pull your hand away from his grasp.

"Dandelion." you say with a wink and walk away.

[juyeonau-main]

𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐍

in part of my trick or treat halloween special the boyz collection!

ji changmin, the boyz: “holy shit, did you see that?” + “i think this carnival is haunted.”

genre: PG rating, fluff, a pinch of angst, friends to lovers, 1.4k words

warnings: language and it’s a lil creepy

requested by: anon ! (idk if they’d be able to see since i moved accounts but huhu)

Changmin liked the scares, the spooks, the gore, the creepiness of anything. It won’t be a surprise that halloween would be his favorite time of year. And when he learned that there was a carnival in the neighboring city, he pleaded with you and the other boys to come with him. Of course, nobody said yes. Like who the hell would risk their lives for some adrenaline rush? “You can have safer thrills in a haunted mansion that is made by people, not abandoned places. Please, leave me out of this.” Sangyeon says as he raises his hands. 

Juyeon just agreed to do it because no one else seemed to want to. Sunwoo would rather not and if it was haunted, then he’d just bring all the spirits onto him because he’s loud. Well, that’s what he said. You didn’t want to think that the place was haunted. You know how Changmin gets. Getting excited for the littlest things especially if it was a little creepy. “Alright then, I’ll just get a jacket and then we can go?” he says. 

“Changmin you better pay for the fucking gas.” Juyeon says. 

“Changmin you better pay for the fucking gas.” Juyeon says. 

And after a few more minutes, you exited the house and entered the car. You sat on the passenger’s seat because Juyeon insisted. He said, “he won’t shut up and I’ll get pissed off.” he says and you just complied. 

Finally, you arrive at the destination. Juyeon exits the car and leans by the front of it. “Don’t be too long, this place is giving me the creeps.” he says and crosses his arms. Giving you a nod and giving Changmin a wink.

He gave Changmin a wink?!

“Hey you can hold onto me if you’d like I don’t mind.” Changmin says, and wow was he smooth. Taking the opportunity because the man above basically was giving you a gift of a lifetime, you linked your arm with his. As you did, he slides his hands in the pocket of his hoodie and you look around the area. 

Booths were everywhere, some even had toys. But you can’t help but feel nervous. Was it the flickering lights? Or the obvious shadow beside you that for sure wasn’t yours? Not to mention the squeaking sound of something. You can’t seem to locate it but everytime you walk closer it gets louder. The boy beside you just kept quiet. Humming a soft tune to whatever song he thought of. Why the hell wasn’t he creeped out by this? You were literally shaking and he was unfazed. 

“Changmin, I think this carnival is haunted.” And as if on you cue you hear footsteps. They sounded like they were running, but then again you couldn’t hear it. By the corner of Changmin’s eye he could see a person waving to him. You could see it too, but you’d rather not take a closer look. 

And to top it all off there was a mascot of a rabbit running around. Though you were sure if it was a rabbit, since it ran so quickly, you knew it wasn’t a person. “Holy shit, did you see that?” Changmin says as he turns around. You scream immediately but cover your mouth. Letting go of his arm, almost tripping if his reflexes didn’t act fast enough. 

You thought you were going crazy. “This feels like silent hill please let’s go home Juyeon’s waiting please.” you say softly as you link your arm again with his. Changmin only shrugs at you with a grin. “I want to see the carousel and then we could go home, is that okay?” he says, his eyes even blinking twice to act cute. 

This bitch, you thought.

You could only nod. Too many things were happening, it took the words out of you. 

As you reach the middle of the carnival, the only light source is the carousel. How in the hell is the carousel lit up? 

And music started to play. The music of the carnival, lively, bubbly. But it scared you, and you were too occupied in your own thoughts you didn’t realize Changmin was no longer with you. 

Your heart started to pound, the sick feeling in your stomach, wanting to throw up because of the fear washing over you. The carnival starts moving and you back away. There was a person, but his face wasn’t seen, wearing a mask of a fluff rabbit. “Fuck please.” you whisper. Tears forming in your eyes but you couldn’t wipe or close them because if you take your eyes away, it may run after you. 

But as you back up, you hit your back with a soft thud. In your head, you wished it was Juyeon, you really wished it was him. So you turn your head slightly. And there was another, completely identical, rabbit man costume whatever the fuck they’re called. And you scream, sometimes vowels, sometimes Changmin’s name. Running around you went by the back of the carousel, yet there were more rabbit-like beings. Some even had stains in their plush like fur. So you try to run back, vision blurring because of your tears, but you were blocked by the two rabbits from earlier. You stay still, keeping your eyes shut as you hug your body and wait for movement. 

“Y/n.” 

You flinch. The voices were muffled, assuming it was because of the mascot head, but it sounded familiar. 

“Y/n open your eyes.” 

You slowly open your eyes, seeing that you were in the middle of a rabbit circle. “Are you going to… k-kill me?” you say as your voice croaked. Hugging yourself tighter. 

The group of ‘rabbits’ took off their mascot heads and finally revealed themselves. “Kim Sunwoo… Lee Hyunjae…” you say their names as you look around. And you see Juyeon, smiling, trying not to laugh and you run to him and tackle him. Both of you falling, but he saves you from the fall. You hit his chest repeatedly, “you knew about this? Where the fuck is Ji Changmin huh? Was he the one who planned this? I hate you! I hate you all.” you say and you cry once again. 

This was really scary. Sure they may like to banter and tease you, and you with them but this has gone too far. 

“Y/n.” Now finally, the man of the hour had shown up. You stand up, not bothering to help Juyeon and face him. Wiping your tears you noticed the bouquet of flowers that he held. He coughed and spoke, “I know you’re mad right now. But, I don’t know why I even did it. I could’ve asked you out like a normal person but it’s halloween season and I don’t know I wanted it to be something you’ll remember.”

Your face softens. But you let him speak some more. “Will you be my girlfriend?” he says handing you the flowers and bowing his head. 

You take the flowers. They were tulips because you always said roses were too common. Him remembering it made your heart flutter. But you were still mad at him. You hit him softly on the head with the bouquet and he stands properly. “Can I at least get an answer then make it up to you later?”

You pretended to think, giving him the side eye as you tap your chin with your free hand.

“Okay, I’ll be your girlfriend!”

[rubysunnday]

any bonnie x shelby sis? I've been seeing it a lot lately and tI just love the idea so much like hduehuehdueh and especially with your writing it would be so amazing! :) love your work

You walked over to your desk and froze. Slowly, you set your keys down and began taking your scarf off.

“Who sent me flowers?”

The questions was directed at no one in particular but it was Esme who answered.

“No idea, they were here when I got in,” she replied, joining you and looking at the beautiful bouquet of lilies, violets and peonies.

“Is there a card?”

Esme shook her head. “Not that I saw. Maybe you’ve got a secret admirer,” she sang and you shoved her away, chuckling.

“Nah, fuck off, who’d want to admire me?”

You moved the flowers to the edge of your desk and sat down, pulling out the first pile of paperwork and began getting to work.

Tommy had finally relented and allowed you to work for him a year ago. He was still stupidly over – protective and refused to let you anywhere near anything dangerous, but you enjoyed the work. It allowed you to see more of your brothers and it gave you something to do.

Bonnie Gold had arrived into your life shortly after the black hand messages arrived. It’d been a whirlwind of emotions – you’d spent most of that time in the hospital with John and Michael – and Bonnie had been someone you’d come to rely on during that rocky time.

You were completely oblivious to Bonnie’s many attempts to woo you - much to everyone else’s amusement. He tried and tried but nothing seemed to make you realise that he liked you.

So, there you were, scribbling away at the paperwork when someone set something down on your desk. You looked up and frowned.

“Another one?” You exclaimed, staring at the basket of tulips in front of you.

Ada, who had put them on your desk, shrugged. “Someone handed them to me and said they were for you.”

“For the love of god,” you muttered. “Thanks, Ada.”

Things calmed down for the rest of the morning and there were no more mysterious flower deliveries.

You rolled your eyes at the flowers as you got up and headed to Tommy’s office, knocking on the door and waiting for him to call you in.

“Enter!”

“Hey, Tom,” you said, giving him and his brothers a smile. “I’ve finished this lost for you.”

“Thanks, y/n,” Tommy replied, giving you a rare genuine smile.

You turned to go but paused. “I don’t suppose any of you know who’s been sending me flowers?” You asked, looking between the boys who were like family to you.

“Nope,” John said, shrugging.

“Looks like you’ve got secret admirer,” Arthur teased, raising an eyebrow and you rolled your eyes.

“As if,” you replied, walking out the room, oblivious to the knowing looks the boys were giving each other.

/

The next morning, you were extremely flustered. You’d gotten back late from the Garrison after Finn had forced you out and had slept through your alarm. That meant you’d missed the chance for Polly to give you a lift and you’d then missed the bus that dropped off near the shop.

Never before had you been so grateful that Michael drove past your house every morning and had time to pick you up.

“I’m so tired,” you yawned as you and Michael walked down the road a bit to the shop door.

“Do you really need two jobs?” He asked as you opened the door.

“It’s money -“

You stopped talking, frozen in the doorway as you took in your desk.

“Oh, seriously?!” You exclaimed, roughly untying your scarf and throwing it over the coat stand as you took in the fact that your desk was covered in bouquets of flowers.

“They were here when I get in,” Tommy said, raising his hands up in surrender. “No one saw anyone come in either.”

“For fuck’s sake,” you muttered, stepping over the ones on the floor to get to your seat.

“Here,” Finn said, helping you take all the flowers of the desk. He tried to hide his smirk as he did so, but you noticed, smacking him around the head.

“This is not funny,” you hissed, glaring at him.

“No, because it’s totally normal for someone to receive dozens of anonymous flowers in one day,” he replied. You just glared at him and he quickly skulked away back to his desk.

You focused yourself entirely on your work for the next few hours, ignoring the flowers around you.

“Hey, y/n,” Arthur called, tapping your shoulder.

Your head shot up and he gave you a smile wave. “What?”

“Lunch, my treat,” he offered, and you frowned. “No tricks, just some decent lunch. I know you didn’t get home until stupidly late last night.”

“That was my stupid twin brother’s fault,” you grumbled. But, you relented, suddenly aware of how hungry you were. “Yeah, ok,” you sighed, standing up for the first time in hours. “I could do with some lunch.”

The two of you went down to the bakery around the corner from the Garrison, ordering warm sausage rolls and freshly cooked biscuits.

You returned to the shop with a smile on your face. Until you saw even more flowers decorating not only your desk but Esme and Lizzie’s too.

“For the love of god!” You yelled, staring at them all. You groaned and stormed into Tommy’s office, not caring that he was having a meeting.

“Alright, which one of you have been sending me flowers?” You glared are them all.

“Well, I’ve not got any money, so it isn’t me,” Finn replied, and Isaiah nodded.

“Me neither,” Isaiah replied, shrugging.

“It’s not me either,” John added, raising his hands up in a meek attempt at surrender.

“Nor is it me or Arthur,” Tommy said, leaning back in his chair.

“Then who is -“

All five of the rooms occupants stared at you in confusion as you cut yourself off and stared at nothing in particular.

“Y/N, you alright?” John asked, looking at you worriedly.

“ABARAMA!” You yelled, storming out of the office. “I’m going to fucking murder your son!”

Finn snickered under his breath as the front door slammed shut. “Now she realises.”

“Only took forty bouquets of flowers,” Isaiah added, and Finn laughed.

“What are you two on about?” Tommy asked tiredly.

“Bonnie has finally summoned the guts to tell our darling y/n how he feels,” Finn explained. “Which is going to be very interesting to hear about later.”

/

You found Bonnie skulking around the back of the Garrison, clearing up the empty barrels and boxes.

“Bonnie Gold,” you said loudly, making him jump and drop the barrel he was holding, “are you aware of just how irritating you are?”

Bonnie gave you that infamous smirk of a smile and you rolled your eyes but smiled. “I see you noticed.”

“It’s hard not to notice the dozens of flowers littering my desk and my sister – in – law’s desk,” you replied, stepping around the crates to get closer to him.

“Did you like any of them?” Bonnie asked and you noticed the hopefulness in his voice.

“I loved the violets and daisies,” you told him coming to stand in front of him. “They just happen to be my favourite flower.”

Bonnie shrugged and you almost burst out laughing at how hard he was trying to pretend that he wasn’t bothered. “They matched your outfit.”

“Ah,” you said softly. “Bonnie, serious question: do you like me?”

“Of course I like you,” Bonnie replied, “you’re one of my best friends.”

“I don’t mean like that, you dolt,” You told him, attempting to hide your smile. “I meant do you like me, like me?”

Bonnie’s eyes widened a fraction and if you hadn’t known him so well, you would’ve missed his reaction entirely. “What on earth gave you that idea?”

You sighed quietly realising that you were going to have to be very blunt with him. “Bonnie, why else would you have spent all of your money on sending me flowers? No one else in my family does that unless they’ve majorly pissed me off.”

“Do you hate me?”

Bonnie’s voice was so small as he asked the question. You found yourself stepping forward and taking his hand in yours, squeezing it ever so slightly.

“How can I hate someone who sends me flowers? How could I possibly hate somebody I love, eh?”

Bonnie’s head shot up. “You love me?”

You nodded. “I was ignoring it until now. In fact, I think I’ve loved you ever since I fell asleep on you in the hospital, Bonnie. I’ve just been oblivious to it all.”

Bonnie’s face lit up and he smiled broadly at you. “So, are we?”

“Yes, Bonnie, we are. Although, I’m not going to be the one to tell my brother’s.” You stood up on your tip toes and kissed his cheek. “But, first, you are going to take all of those flowers off my desk and put the somewhere nice.”

“Can’t you put them in your house?”

“Bonnie, I don’t have a house, I move between all five of my families,” you told him. “Besides, there is no room in any of my bedrooms.”

“Then where am I meant to put them all?”

“In Tommy’s house, obviously.”

Bonnie rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

[cedricstower]

Hear me out but poly relationship of Cedric x Reader x Greylock?

oh ABSOLUTELY! 

~gender neutral reader~

Poly Relationship between Cedric x Greylock x Reader

how all three of you end up together is beyond me or anyone else in Enchancia 

at first it was just you and Cedric, you guys had been incredibly committed to each other albeit for a short while, but you guys seemed to have something really special between the two of you

the day you meet Greylock is when you two cross paths at a Conjurer’s Conference (if you’re magical, it’s probably your first time going together, but if you’re not, Cedric probably offered to show you around and you’re beyond excited), much to Cedric’s confusion because he thought Greylock would’ve been exiled by now 

“All I had to do was use the ol’ charm on them and I got re-instated in three years time!”

“Of course” Cedric grumbles, annoyed beyond belief

you however are fascinated, taken with this jester-esc wizard. You begin to ask him a multitude of questions, annoying and confusing Cedric even further. 

“So what did you tell the guards?” “What did you do?” “Are you a royal sorcerer too?” 

Greylock was more than happy to answer all your questions, quite endeared by your wide-eyedness 

Cedric’s probably standing there like “what is happening????”

You get distracted by a booth that catches your eye, give Cedric a kiss on the cheek and tell him you’ll be right back after checking it out while he catches up with his friend

You run off, and a smug looking Greylock walks up beside a still grumpy but slightly softer Cedric

“Well, they’re quite a catch, aren’t they, Cedric old chum?” He says, giving his comrade a wink

“I will fucking stab you” is what Cedric wish he could’ve said, however he settled for crossing his arms and grumbling something incoherent, good call, Ceddy. 

over time the more you and Greylock cross paths, the more you guys get to know and enjoy each others company. Much to Cedric’s distaste. 

You really don’t understand what Cedric doesn’t like about Greylock, but you decide not to push any questions on him for now

every time you two hang out, Greylock dazzles you with magic tricks, humors you with harmless pranks on the villagers, and occasionally attempts to woo you say via conjuring a lovely pink tulip for you.

You always have so much fun with Greylock. He was charming, witty, and smarter than people gave him credit for... sort of like your Ceddy. They didn’t see it, but they have a lot more in common then they both think

it’s not like Cedric stops you from hanging out with Greylock, god forbid he let himself be one of those boyfriends. He’d sooner throw himself back in the dungeon than control any aspect of your life (unless of course you were cheating on him or harming yourself in any way shape or form, stuff like that, but those aren’t relevant here so we’re not gonna unpack all of that)

however he starts getting suspicious when you two act a little more than friendly around him...

you were bidding Greylock goodbye when you gave him a small kiss on his cheek, to which he smiled and told you he’d keep it there forever. 

this made you laugh, he always did

heading back to give Cedric a hug, he continued to stare off in the direction that his “old friend” had taken off to

“what was that about?” he asks

“huh?” 

“Th-that, that kiss you just gave to him.”

You wave your hand. “Aw, hun, don’t worry about it. It was just a friendly little kiss.” You said, gently and playfully pinching his cheek which always caused the blood to rush to his face from embarrassment.

Cedric trusts you, he always has. It’s Greylock he doesn’t trust. They way that man looks at you... he knows what it means because he’s had to give you the exact same look for a whole year before you realized he liked you. However Cedric was much less crude about it. 

he’s not proud to say it’s something he thinks and worries about a lot, his own insecurities of not being good enough slipping in every now and again, not that he’d tell you though

but he’s shockingly unsurprised when you and Greylock, as gently as possible, approach him about a relationship.

“All three of us, together! I think... I think it can really work out.”

“And I concur! Whadaya say, Cedric old chum?”

Immediately Cedric’s first thought was “No. Absolutely not.” No way was he willing to let you go about gallivanting with this jester of a sorcerer in a romantic sense. 

It’s not that he didn’t want you to be happy, he really did, but it was Cedric who wholeheartedly denied he and Greylock could ever get along in a romantic sense, they were barely able to stay cordial for Merlin’s sake!

he’s shaking a little, but gulps down his internal thoughts and sighs. “I’ll think about it.” 

the following week is a bit awkward for you two, every time you touch Cedric’s shoulder, it’s the lightest of feather touches and you speak to him extra carefully and softly, because you know this sort of proposal is telling him one thing

that he isn’t good enough for you 

it comes to a point when you’re both lying in bed, and he’s finally ready to talk about it with you. He takes both your hands in his and locks his hazel eyes onto yours. 

“Y/n, I-I really want you to be happy and... and have a fulfilling relationship but... before I continue, I need you to promise that... that it isn’t me. Is it?”

you know exactly what he means by that. And how could it be him? He was looking at you with wide eyes glossy on the verge of tears, it made your heart shatter and those tiny pieces melt. 

“Oh, Cedric...” you brought a hand to his cheek, softly caressing him. You never used his full name unless you were being completely serious. It was always either ‘Ceddy’ or one of the various sweet pet names you had for him. “Of course it’s not you. You’re perfect.” 

He’s hesitant at first, but he felt the honesty drip from your tone and radiating from your soul. Softening, he smiled. “Well, in that case, I suppose I don’t see the harm in you two having a relationship.” 

You are beyond excited and leap into his arms for a hug, blurting out a thousand ‘thank you’s’ while feverishly kissing him up and down the side of his face, sending Cedric into a giggling mess. 

Goodness gracious you were adorable, if he caught Greylock treating you with even the slightest bit of mistreatment, he’d be sure to cut all ties between you two and that monocle-wearing warlock immediately

as time went on, you and Greylock became inseparable. Prompting you to always convince Cedric to join in on your dates.

at first he’d only come along for you, and any time Greylock attempted to put the moves on him Cedric swerved that bitch.

 but the more those two are forced to spend time together for your sake, the more they actually start to bond

at first, it’s mostly over their adoration for you

“Isn’t y/n just the cutest little crum, Cedric ol’ pal?”

“I suppose I can’t argue with you there, but do be careful with the “cute” word around them, they absolutely hate it.”

“Oh? I bet they’re adorable when they’re mad~”

Cedric rolls his eyes playfully. “Oh on the contrary, they’re horrifying. But... their cheeks do puff up and get red and it’s admittedly endearing.” 

this was the start of a beautiful... romance? friendship? nobody really knows, least of all Cedric and Greylock

you notice how much more Cedric starts to loosen up around Greylock, he actually laughed at one of his jokes for the first time! It made your stomach do flips and your heart squeeze itself in your chest.

it makes you so happy to see your boys getting along <3

and it’s only a matter of time until Greylock had successfully won Cedric over, and he needs to announce it in the most dramatic way possible

he storms into the workshop one day, where you waited for Cedric because he “had a surprise” for you

Greylock kicks down the door with Cedric being carried in his arms (much to his embarrassment, his arms crossed and his face on fire) and loudly proclaims that he had finally “claimed Cedric’s ass”

this causes Cedric to yell out a surprised, “WHAT?” and push Greylocks face away while he stumbles out of his arms. “I did not agree to you saying that!”

too bad, it got you laughing and Cedric blushing, which is all Greylock wanted out of this to be honest

from then on, you three are the most chaotic polyamory in Enchanica

Greylock’s always trying to get you both to laugh, thought it’s easier for you then Cedric

yes, he occasionally resorts to tickling him, and Cedric is extremely ticklish 

they still bicker a lot though, and you’re typically the peace-keeper. Though luckily none of you actually argue.

it’s usually over petty things, like how the bed shouldn't be used as a cracker platter Greylock 

“Well then why is it called a spread sheet, Cedric?”

yeah this is usually how mornings go. 

obviously they’ve calmed down a lot since dating though, knowing if they wanted this relationship to work, they’d have to be more level-headed with each other

dates are always super fun though! You guys alternate between your interests and even have a whole weekly date-night chart (courtesy of Cedric)

Greylock, because he’s a clown at heart, really likes the stereotypical “fun” dates like amusement parks, carnivals, swimming, dancing, bars, ect. 

Cedric is partial staying inside because at heart, he’s an introvert and an old soul, so a day inside the workshop with the two of you, some tea, snacks, and a game of chess is more than enough for him (in a modern AU he’d enjoy movie nights at home and cuddling on the couch, fantasy/fantastical being his favorite genre)

you’re a little more adventurous than Cedric, but not quite as outgoing as Greylock, so you enjoy outdoor dates like festivals, nature walks, concerts, picnics, all that Fun Summer jazz. 

however if you guys literally have no idea what else to do, going out for dinner is your go-to.

Cuddle-piles that turn into naps??? 100%

Cedric clings onto you and Greylock while Greylock has you in his lap, and his arm around Cedric while you three are lying down

Greylock is one for giving you both creative surprise smooches. Once he gave Cedric one of those squirt flowers but instead of spraying him with water a pair of comically puckered lips jumped out and planted one right on Cedric’s mouth. 

Of course what he thought was gonna be a sweet gift turned into a gag, but Greylock made it up by giving him a real peck on the lips after

he tried the same thing on you after, but you were smart and declined, even after Greylock pretending to pout and beg you to take it lest he die from your lack of love, but you weren’t having it and laughed while tapping his nose

“Nice try, hunny bun.”

you know that meme that’s like “What if I put the oven to 40000000 degrees and baked the cookies for 1 second?” and one friend on the line is like “no wtf you’ll burn your house” and the other is like “lmao do it”? Yeah, that’s Greylock, Cedric, and you, in that order. 

[link-the-feral-anon]

Books, Magic, and Other Dangers of the World

Growing up, we were always taught that books, much like magic, are very dangerous. In the same way that if one uses too much magic, they become consumed by it; likewise, if you devour a book too quickly, or you read them too often, the stories will consume you too. That's what our elders always taught us. Libraries would only let you take so many books per month, but sometimes people would take more and keep reading. They'd be spellbound by the books and get strange ideas. They'd have trouble putting the book down and doing other things. They wouldn't talk to anyone, not even about their precious books. They wouldn't go outside to, not even to read in a nice patch of sun.

Eventually, they'd stop eating, drinking, and sleeping... all in favor of reading.

And one day, they vanish. Consumed entirely by their precious books.

They say that as children, we are immune to the thrall of the books. Because kids can't help but talk about their favorite things, and kids can't not eat, and kids love reading in the sun.

They say it is rare for a child to be consumed. Some speculate that it is because children are so small and the books require a lot of energy.

They say this is what happened to my older sister. That she was one of the rare ones.

However... she didn't vanish into a book.

She just... left. Ran away from this town. She wanted me to go with, but I was so young. I didn't understand why she wanted to leave.

I sighed and replaced yet another book. I know why she left now, but because she left nobody leaves me with books of my own. Nobody in town thinks I'd be able to "resist the thrall."

"Petal?"

I glanced down from my ladder with a soft smile.

"Mrs. Magnolia?"

Her smile twitched, a momentary thing, something only someone watching for it would see. She was always wanting for me to say, "Yes," but my sister warned me about that. Never say yes before you know what you're agreeing to.

"Are you almost done there, Petal? It's almost story time for the children." She said, words coated with honey, as always.

"I'm almost done. I'll be down in a moment." I told her.

Another twitch.

"Alrightie, dear. Don't be long."

I climbed down only after she had gone. I went to collect one of the children's books. One of magic and learning, fantasy and warning.

If I could get them hooked onto books now, they might use the old legends to escape too.

Or, maybe they'd learn magic and leave that way too.

Unlike books, magic is actually dangerous in that it can consume you, but if you're properly taught, by someone who's ulterior motives are not sinister, you can usually stay in control of yourself and your magic.

That's why nobody in town knows I've inherited my Dad's magic. Not even Rose, my incubator.

Aka, the c- Oh, you know the word- I came out of.

She always thought it was my sister with the magic, and she, as far as everyone else is concerned, was eaten by a book.

"Miss Petal!" One of the young girls called, "Are you gonna read more of Tulip's Thorns to us?"

I glanced at Mrs. Magnolia for permission. The rest of the kids followed suit. This time, her nose twitched.

"If the children wish for it, then so be it."

I smiled.

"Of course I'll read you these books." I told the group.

The adults in town didn't care for these, for they spoke of power in learning, and that magic could be taught or given as well as something innate. Wizards, Warlocks, even a Bard could learn it.

Despite the title, the main character was a young man named neither Tulip nor Thorn, but rather Stem, for the author. He was a Bard traveling the land, going on adventures and learning things.

The kids loved him.

After story time, my shift at the library ended and I went to the bakery.

If I could, I would gather all the books I could and pretend to be consumed by them. I would flee under the guise of the old legends and travel the world. I'd find Thorn and go with her this time. I'd try to find Stem and see if there was any truth to his stories. I'd take Crescent with me if I could, and we'd never have to marry anyone.

But, as it were, I needed more bread and a few treats to substitute my longing of adventure.

"Afternoon, Petal." The old baker greeted me with a smile that I returned.

"Afternoon, Wheat."

"Take your time looking, I've got muffins to check on." He said, giving me a nod before disappearing to the back.

I looked at the menu. I would get my usual sandwich bread, some cinnamon raisin bread, maybe even a loaf of pumpernickel, but what to get for a treat?

"Heya, Petal." A sultry voice interrupted my thoughts. I couldn't help but snort.

"Heya, Crescent." I responded, using the same tone. Then we both cracked up.

Crescent Ocean, the only person I was actually friends with here. He alone knew of my desires to leave, and that was only because he told me about his first.

"So," he said, dropping the old joke, "Did you hear that Stem is coming to town?"

I blinked. I hadn't heard that.

"Didn't think so. You still not allowed to own books?" He asked, leaning in the counter with a soft frown.

"It's for my own safety, my own good, you know that, Cres."

The shadow in the doorway vanished. As long as they thought I was tricked about the books, everything was fine.

"So, the Stem is coming to town?" I asked, once the coast was clear. "What for?"

He shrugged. "Book signing, if I had to guess. Most people outside of this town don't know about the town's ways."

I hummed, an idea forming.

"Perhaps we should show him our ways."

Crescent frowned a moment at my wording, but only a moment. We both knew better than to reveal our truth here. Also- He caught onto my meaning after a moment.

"Perhaps we should. How?"

"Have a bread party with me!" I said, grinning and giggling.

He grinned and spoke in that flirtatious tone, "Why, of course. How could I refuse?"

This plan was risky. If someone figured us out, if Stem refused to help, if Stem didn't understand the danger, if we made a mistake...

Normally, so many "ifs" would scare me off, but I had a feeling that if Stem was anything like his character, and my gut said he was, he'd be able to help us. Perhaps he was our only hope.

We could escape. We could leave and explore.

The only downside is that there was a good chance the town would try to find us, knowing that we were not eaten by our books.

Maybe Crescent could fake that, but I couldn't, and the town think they know that I'd never let the same thing that happened to my sister happen to another I care for.

But... We had to try, right?

"After you." Crescent said, once I had my bread and he had some muffins.

I grinned and linked my free arm with his.

"Together." I corrected. He grinned.

"Together."

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

6. Passion Project

“What the hell am I reading?” The woman squealed in his ear, “And why is it ALWAYS something bizarre with you?”

“Did my favorite perennial flower get my emails?”

“Simon… you do know that I have both college AND a job to do, right? That not all of us achieve our dreams the first try?”

“I pay you good money for the work that I ask you to do!” Simon complained. “Unlike your day job that both pays you less than your male counterparts and less than you deserve in general.”

“Yeah, well… I live in the real world. Not like there’s some magical train to take me away from society and all it's problems. But, seriously… researching is one thing, but this feels oddly like stalking. First of all… I had to do some very illegal things to get this information - which, yes, I went ahead and did it, because by the time I got to that point I was feeling a little bit insulted by the thought of failing. Secondly… who IS this woman, Simon? How do you even know about her and what are you going to do with this information?”

“I met her in my everyday life and was interested in her, but found a simple background check difficult. I was people watching for a new story, but it’s become more like a passion project, now. But, I feel like you’ve got a lot to tell me about her!” He was teeming with excitement.

“I… found out things, things that I never would have wanted to ever know about anybody and am now honestly considering charging you for the therapy it’s gonna take me to get over this information… Where in your everyday life did you meet this person?”

“Why… what’s… what’s wrong with her?” Simon asked.

“A LOT. But… I don’t know… I guess she’s doing better, if you’re just seeing her out and about, but… I just…” Tulip yelped.

“Tools???” Simon called out.

Deep breathing. Then, she was back. “Sorry. Mikayla’s out, so I’m by myself and EVERYTHING is startling me. I’m gonna send you everything I found and my charges for this information. And Simon… please don’t ever send me anything like this again, and I mean it.”

“I only wanted to find out if she changed her name and why. How difficult could the information have been?”

“Most people don’t just change their names out of boredom, Simon. Also… it isn’t right to look into somebody this way. I’m only giving it to you because I don’t deserve to be the only person who has had to look at this.”

“That bad?” He heard sniffling. “Tools…”

“No, Simon! This is messed up! Don’t ask me for another favor again if you don’t know ANYTHING about the situation!”

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, I promise.” 

She let out a deep breath. “Is your mom going to the retreat or whatever this year?”

“Yeah. She’s super excited about it. She says that she hasn’t seen yours in too long. Is she going?”

“Yeah, she was able to scrape up this year to reserve her spot.”

“Mom’s already pulling out all of her Single Mom Squad shit.”

Tulip groaned. “I’m really glad that they had a support group and stuff, but honestly. Why did it become their entire personality for so long?”

“Because it was their little escape from having smartasses like us at home.” Tulip laughed and Simon reiterated, “Really sorry about whatever you read about Grace.”

“I… Is this somebody that you think that you could care about, Simon?”

“Yeah?”

“Okay. Just… be careful. I don’t see how they’re even still standing, much less how they’re in a position to care for someone else. I don’t know if I’m more afraid that you might get hurt if you get attached or that she might, but… it just looks like it’d be super hard to build with this person. They’ve got… a lot of... history.”

“She’s tried to warn me of that and I ignored her and will most likely ignore you.”

“Well, I did my part, anyway.”

.

Her name was not Grace St. Catherine… Well, it was, because she had it legally changed four years ago. But it had been Grace Monroe when she was born… up until when she was 10.

She was kidnapped when she was 10. Apparently there was a ransom requested, and whenever it was set to happen, the kidnappers took the money and did not return the child. Nobody who knew her before saw her again for 8 years.

When she was 18, she was arrested for assault and when giving her name to arresting officers, said 148, but eventually Grace Monroe. From there, she was discovered to have been missing for 8 years and her parents were contacted.

The Monroes conducted every possible test available to check the well being of their now 18 year old daughter. She was treated for several illnesses, including STDs and a number of mental issues...

She was committed at age 18, and declared a ward of her parents, instead of convicted, and spent the next three years recovering. At age 21, she was allowed to be classified as an adult. She changed her name, and lived with her parents until 2 years ago...

When she began working at the bookstore...

Tulip had even been able to find court documents, police records, and psychiatric files. So… yeah. He owed her big time, even beyond payment for having read even a portion of this stuff. Some of it was simply things Grace had reported to her doctors. Some were things that she had not spoken of, but there was physical evidence enough to grant some ideas. 

Years of damage to her uterus… Bruises and scars on her back, knees, thighs, wrists… A symbol carved into the back of her neck… He clicked on the images given from medical reports and saw the same A that had been spray painted on targets’ doors. He now knew who these people were, and why they deserved whatever Grace and her friends were doing to them. He looked at the photos of the girl before her disappearance vs the teenager in the mugshot. That didn’t even look like HIS Grace. She was the same person. He saw familiar features - her perfect round nose and beautiful full lips, the shape of her face a little more shapely there - probably wasn’t eating as well… but… that was a stranger. Only her eyes looked the same. Passionate but filled with pain. Beautiful and wide enough to get lost in, but dark, cold, and freakishly mysterious. 

He quickly called her and she picked up, “Did I not just see you a few hours ago?” she teased.

“I was just thinking about you… hoping that you’re okay tonight. Are you okay?”

She laughed, “Are you?”

“I just… want you to know… whatever happens, I’ll always be here for you.”

She was quiet for a long time. He wondered what she was doing on the other end of the line. She was looking at a selection of masks and knee pads, but her mind was no longer on the outfit for her Date Night, but the man on the other side of this phone conversation.

“Thanks, Simon… Um… Are… you sick? Is something happening to you? This just really feels out of nowhere and quite frankly, I’m a little worried.”

“There’s nothing to worry about! I’m fine. I just… really care about you, and had to tell you that.” 

Grace could’ve sworn that she saw a chorus of red flags being twirled around before her. Dancers, circling her and performing tricks with them. She was never one for rose colored glasses. She learned a long time ago that those weren’t for her… so these were red flags. She also knew that she often saw red flags where there were white ones. Because she didn’t believe in surrender, only blood for blood. She was angry in general, and usually seeing red. Simon’s red flags were probably no more red than any other poor guy that tried to simply make her smile over the past few years. But then he said,  “Grace, I lo…”

“Simon, I really can’t do this right now. I’ve got something I’m in the middle of. So, like… Just… I’ll talk to you another time.” She hung up and snatched a mask that looked like it was crying blood and a pair of purple knee pads. “Not L words, Simon. For fuck’s sake…”

.

Simon had learned so much, then she was just gone. She wasn’t at the bookstore in days and whenever he finally asked her coworker, they said that she had a no call, no show and they hadn’t heard from her since. She didn’t respond to any of his texts. She seemingly deactivated social media (or worse, blocked him), and she wasn’t even staying at home, because he drove by several times for two days, then literally camped outside for another two. If she was inside, she hadn’t answered, and he hoped that she wasn’t just ignoring him pining through the door. He hoped that she just wasn’t there to hear him beg her to please at least tell him what he did wrong.

He went into the flower shop and the guy that he had become super familiar with as “152” online, even though his nametag said “Heath,” asked him what he could help him with. Simon ordered a bouquet and wrote out a card for Grace, apologizing for whatever he did wrong and asking her to come back, He sighed and asked Heath, “Could you make sure that Grace gets this, please?”

“Grace?” the guy repeated, eyeing Simon suspiciously. “I don’t know any Grace, Mister.”

“148, maybe?” 

Now, the guy looked downright ready to fight. “I don’t know what you mean, but you’re making me uncomfortable, so I’m going to have to ask you to leave, now.” He even tried to refund him for the flowers.

“No, no… Please, just… tell her that I’ll be waiting, if she ever feels better…” He left and Heath followed him out of the door, watched him get into his car and drive off before he went back in to call Grace, panicked about that visit.

“Who the hell is this person and how does he know where I work?” Heath asked. 

“Let me guess, a little taller than me, skinny, blond with gray eyes and something on his head trying desperately to be a ponytail? That was Simon. I must’ve mentioned the flower shop, or something.” She knew that she never had, but to tell her friend that this person had potentially stalked her and learned about him in the process just seemed like it would cause more harm than taking the blame.

“You must’ve mentioned it? Grace. Either you mentioned it, or you didn’t, and YOU would know. It isn’t like you to be careless about our personal information!”

“I know, I know, but maybe I said that it was my favorite flower shop or something. Heath. You know that if you want, I can get you a job at basically anywhere else that I own.”

“I like flowers!”

“Then, I’ll buy another flower shop you can work at, if he made you feel threatened.” 

“Are you safe? He seems a little attached. He bought a really expensive bouquet and left a card. It’s sealed but I can read it to you.”

“No, I’ll stop by. I’ve got some job hunting to do, but…”

“Why don’t you just work somewhere that you’re familiar with, or somewhere that you own?”

“I don’t know. Because, I’m suddenly hyper aware of how messed up I am again, and I wanna feel like a normal person.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, but normal people don’t get to just start over when life seems to be too much. We’ve gotta just continue to live it out, and change only ourselves, and maybe eventually our circumstances. Normal people would have called out of work (if they could even afford to) and came back, whether or not they were better and pushed through being miserable.”

“Are you suggesting that I return to the bookstore and ask for my job back?”

“Yeah. If it’s normal that you’re shooting for. But… I’ve got the feeling that you’re avoiding this creep.”

“I think things are moving way too fast. That’s terrifying.”

“Good news… that’s terrifying for normal people, too. Not everything that we do and feel is because of what the Apex did to us. If your manager likes you and values you, you can probably coax them into forgiving you for vanishing, with a good sob story.”

“Gonna go with dead homie,” she said. “Meds, etc. The whole works. If that doesn’t work, guess I’ll buy the bookstore. I really don’t feel like looking for another job, anyway… And I guess I can’t avoid him forever.”

.

She was back at work the next week. She noticed Simon sitting in the coffee shop whenever she came in. She skipped going for her old routine, to clock back in and get to work. She had to take down the Read Across America stuff and make sure to have all the Easter and Earth Day stuff situated… When was Easter this year? She checked her calendar as she grabbed her legal pad to start planning displays whenever she almost ran into Simon. He’d come over when he saw her return to the floor. She was startled. Then annoyed. “Simon. Please…”

“What did I do?”

“You’re… getting a little bit too… familiar. You didn’t do anything, I just don’t know how to handle having somebody else in my space this much. I just… need some space.”

He frowned and nodded his head, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Okay. You’re the boss.” She wanted to say something… explain why she was like this… why she could only trust her friends, who were more like her immediate family than her parents… even that she desperately wanted Simon to be in her space and to wait for her to be comfortable with having him there…

But, she couldn’t find any of those words. Even if she had, what if she were wrong? What if Simon catching feelings would be the worst thing to ever happen to her, or to HIM, for that matter. She watched him go, and hoped that after she had some time to chill out a little bit, she might be able to contact him again, and get another chance. So, she watched him leave the bookstore and get into his car. He peeled off, and she didn’t know if that meant he was angry or if there was a fluke with the car. She just hoped that he didn’t just show up at her friend’s job or anything else like that. Or something worse. The last thing he wanted while sad was to get on her friends’ bad side. The last thing she wanted was for him to learn that the hard way.

Simon overthrew every piece of furniture in his home. Samantha rushed into her room and hid, terrified of the noise. He cried, shook, paced…. How could he show her that he was on her side? Why did she want space?? Was she afraid of him??? DID SHE HATE HIM???? He flopped onto the floor, holding his head and shivering with tears, trying to catch his breath. 

He needed some place else to handle dealing with her, he realized as he glanced around his demolished home. A storage unit, maybe… He collected all of his stuff pertaining to her and put it all together. He stuffed it into one of his bags and put it into his trunk. He could clean up his house whenever he stored things away safely. He needed a big storage unit. He had a feeling that he was going to be collecting more while giving her some “space.”

This was how he might cope. He turned on the light in the new storage space and set down a few boxes. He hadn’t been back into the bookstore. There was no need. He wasn’t writing right now, anyway. He had more important things to do. He’d printed out  everything Tulip had researched for him and made plans to visit places he highlighted from all of the files. He got some photos professionally printed up - some poster size, some not as big, and some he simply just had various photo sizes. He just thought they would make nice decor for his new space. Grace had deactivated, but he still had just about every photo of her saved to his phone or computer, and they had taken a few as well…

He also… was starting to take them of her whenever he watched her… He just really missed her. It was only a couple of months in her presence, but that was longer than he had been interested in another person in a while, and he had never been this interested in anyone before. Any time he ever thought that he might be going too far, he reminded himself that she had both done and been through much worse than anything that he was up to at the moment, and that became his truth up until the very last time that he ever had to tell himself anything. 

That was May. By May… he didn’t think. It was simply part of his lifestyle. Following, watching, studying, photographing, sometimes recording. But, she still hadn’t reached out to him, and he wasn’t sure if she wanted him to reach out to her. He tried to test it, by leaving her a bouquet of those red poppies that he’d seen her and her friends put on their friend’s grave. He watched, recording her reaction whenever she got home and saw them on her doorstop. She looked around, startled, kneeled to check the card. “Missing you. - S” She looked… relieved. He wasn’t sure who she thought they were from, but she grabbed them, went inside, and moments later, came out with an overnight bag and her turtle. She didn’t come home for days.

Next, he texted and said, “Hey. Sent you flowers. My mom asked about you. Hope you’re okay.” He watched her check the text before she went into the train station, but she didn’t reply. So… she still wasn’t ready, but he was letting her know that he was still waiting. By that time, nothing felt unreasonable to him. He was simply waiting for her to realize that she’d had enough space. He was curious about where she went to when she’d leave for days. The next time he scared her into not staying home alone, he’d follow. It was all that he could do at the moment.

07. Things Went Wrong

[shadowofthelamp]

Video Call

Just a little treat. A scene from a few hours before Kit decides to officially join the family. (Yes, I stuck with Gomez/Morticia for Twix and Tulip’s costumes.)

Wordcount: 785

Warnings: Mpreg

“So, how’s Papa doing?” Twix idly straightened her bowtie. 

“You know him, he’s trying to coax Kit out by tempting him with candy.” Dib snorted. “Considering he inhaled almost a whole bag this morning, that’s not exactly going to motivate him to get out.”

Twix grinned, the video communicator sticking out of her Pak bobbing as she shrugged. “Hey, you don’t know how bad cravings get.”

“I had to deal with him being pregnant twice. I can get the gist.” Dib said. “Just going trick-or-treating with the girls?”

“Mhm.” She scooped Bella up, nuzzling against her chubby little face before turning her to face her father. “Bella’s a flower and Venus is the sun, isn’t that cute?”

“Aww, that’s sweet. Hi, Bella.” Dib waved, and Bella wiggled her arms towards the hologram video in front of her, a halo of fabric petals around her face. 

“G’pa!” Her few teeth made a grin as she opened and closed her mouth, and Dib laughed. 

“Yeah, it’s grandpa.”

“What about you? Just staying in?”

Dib nodded. “Yeah- Zim’s still at a hundred percent, so your brother’s ready any day now. We’re not going through what we did with you again- I’ll probably just be rifling through my spellbooks for the night.”

“Sounds good. I’ll pop by later when we pass by the house, just tell the Computer to lock me out if Kit decides he wants to join the fun.”

“I can hear you, you know.”

“Alright, that works. Can I see Papa?” Twix shifted Bella to her other arm as Dib carried the camera over to the nest. Zim’s communicator had been fritzy for weeks, she didn’t want to push it. 

“Twixling, there you are!” Zim hurriedly stuffed a couple of wrappers in a little trash bag, licking up the chocolate on his lips, and Twix snickered. 

“You look in the Halloween spirit.” Zim was clad in a pumpkin hoodie, and his oversized stomach rounded it out enough that it looked to be almost stretching at the seams. 

“I would be more so if your little brother decided to come out!” Zim rubbed his hand over the side of his belly. “He seems certain that my body is better than the outside world. I am wonderful, of course, but he has to take initiative and let his father deal with him too!” 

“It can’t be long. Bella wanted out as soon as I was done with her, maybe Kit’s just stubborn.” At that, Bella blew a raspberry in agreement with her mother. 

“Mm, he gets that from you,” Zim accused, leaning back on the pillows. 

“C’mon, Papa, we’re all stubborn bastar-“

“Twix!” Tulip said just as she swept into the room, cutting her off mid-word. “You’re holding Bella.”

“Aw, come on, she’s not even one yet.”

“She’s starting to speak, just be careful.” Tulip, clad in a semi-tight black dress, held out her arms, and Twix passed Bella over. “How’re your dads?”

“ZIM IS PERFECTLY FINE!”

“Just waiting for Kit,” Twix said, and Tulip sucked in air through her teeth. “Yeesh, I feel for Zim. He’s been overdue for what, a week now?”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle!” Zim drummed his fingers on top of the curve of his abdomen. “Anyhow, you should hurry before all of the good candy is gone. I refuse to let my smeets starve on this night of plenty. That includes you, Tulip!”

“We are,” Twix said, turning at a small tug on her pants leg even as Tulip smiled at Zim’s mention of her. In one easy motion Twix scooped Venus up, who waved at Zim. 

“Hi grandpapa!” Yellow paint was smeared over her face, and she had a pretty yellow crown with orange jewels on top of a smiling sun face dress with yellow leggings. 

“Ah, hello, Veeeenus!” Zim dragged out the name. “Go and eat the candies that Zim cannot, do you hear me? That’s an order! Someone has to be able to enjoy tonight!”

She giggled. “I will! How’s Kit?”

“Still in here. But he’ll be around to meet you soon.” Zim shifted on the pillows again, a cable extending from his Pak. There was a brief yelp before Dib was dragged into the frame, the cable end wrapped around his stomach before unwinding again. “Have many spookies on this night of frights, and then call us again later, understand? I want to hear all of it!”

Twix nodded. “Got it. We do need to get going before it gets dark, talk later.” 

“Say goodbye to your grandpas, Bella,” Tulip said, bouncing her, and Bella bubbled out something that sounded vaguely like ‘bye’. “Say goodbye, Venus.”

“Bye-bye!” Venus waved, and Zim and Dib waved back before the call cut.   

[honeylikewords]

Agent Whiskey being interested in a woman, how would he express it?

Aw, that’s so darn cute! Here I go!

(Note: I don’t really like the... uncomfortable, shall we say, and fully unnecessary sexual tone of the Kingsman series as a whole, so I’ve decided to remove it and tone down any overt or excessive attributes the weird writing sort of forced into Whiskey’s character. This is just my take on Jack, and one I prefer, since It’s My Cowboy And I Get To Pick The Canon!)

Jack Daniels is so many wonderful things; intelligent but grounded, confident but well-mannered, steadfast and true. And while his capable, efficient attitude and myriad talents make him a standout in his line of work and a truly remarkable conversationalist and negotiator both in and outside of his job, he’s got a bit of a secret.

He’s an absolutely abysmal flirt.

Now, let’s not be mistaken: he can woo with the best of them for a mission. But it’s not a part of his work he particularly enjoys, nor is all that comfortable with. He’s got a heart so big that he can barely carry it, and the manners and conscience to match, so he feels fairly ill at ease crossing the lines of good taste and treating a woman in any way he could imagine deeming less than ladylike. 

It makes flirting (and anything that might come after) very, very difficult for poor Jack, and though he often has to muscle through that gut feeling of wrongness for the sake of a mission, it leaves him with a sour taste in his mouth. And that’s just for a mission: when his heart really gets involved, he’s an utter mess.

Jack’s the sort of man who loves ardently, passionately, and emotionally. He loves with childlike devotion, with utmost adoration. Once he’s fallen in love, truly and fully, it consumes him; he’s a true Southern romantic, one who wants to treat his lady like a princess, like she’s the only woman in the world, and wants to dedicate himself body and soul to her and her happiness. As a result, as his feelings start to grow for the object of his affections, he’ll try his darndest to show her the candor and honesty of his heart, going out of his way to display his most gentlemanly, chivalrous attributes.

For example, he’ll rush to try and open doors for her, pull out chairs for her to sit in, stand up and take off his hat when she enters a room, flash her a big, warm smile if she ever looks in his direction, and refer to her only with the most respectful of terms. Now, that may not sound like bad flirting, but the issue isn’t that he’s corny, it’s that he can’t bring himself to actually, you know, flirt.

The thing that trips him up is that he is, in fact, just so concerned about treating her with respect and dignity and nothing but kindness, and he doesn’t want her to feel like he’s putting the moves on her, as if she’s just an object, an conquest, an assignment. He doesn’t want her to feel like he’s laying out all the stock tropes he lays out for the people he’s meant to momentarily charm for a mission: he wants her to feel how deep and genuine his affection for her is, and that it comes from a place of sincerity, of true desire to know her and be with her.

So he doesn’t ever actually flirt, per se, in the early stages of his investment in their relationship. He’s just painfully, achingly polite, almost to the point of being uncomfortably stiff and out of character. Everyone around him notices the abrupt shift in attitude the moment his beloved enters the room; he sits up straighter and taller, uses his best diction, swears less, and seems almost nervous, like a showdog. Tequila swears that Jack breaks out in hives, though Ginger says it’s just a bit of a flop-sweat. Both agree that he does get substantially redder in the face, especially around the cheeks and ears.

When the woman he’s enamored with leaves the room, he’ll sometimes slump low in his chair or rub at his eyes tiredly, sighing out in embarrassment; he knows he must have looked insane, babbling on about lord only knows what. He just can’t help being so tightly wound up around her; whenever she walks in the room, he can feel his stomach tie in knots, his hands sweat, his tongue lay heavy in his mouth.

As time goes on, though, and as his bond with his beloved strengthens, and they grow from just being coworkers to being friends with genuine closeness and familiarity, he learns to relax and be at ease in her presence. Yes, he still flop-sweats a little (the poor inner rim of his Stetson is always damp after a conversation with her), but he learns to talk to her more openly, more calmly, and lets himself feel less afraid of messing up in front of her. Instead, he focuses on just making her smile and reveling in the moment, enjoying being in her presence.

He still opens doors for her, still stands up and takes his hat off to greet her as she enters the room, and gives her all his gentlemanly attentions with even more enthusiasm, but he does so with less fear in his heart; the fear is replaced with simple, pure joy at seeing her, at being able to do at least some small thing to express that joy, that admiration he has for her.

Jack is also a little bit of a gift-giver, though he tries to do it in subtle ways so she won’t feel like he’s trying to buy her affection. 

It may sound odd, but Jack keeps a tiny Moleskine notebook in his back pocket and takes quick notes any time his lady love mentions wanting something, needing a new this or that, or any other details he wants to remember. He’d somewhere heard that Mister Rogers had kept notes on people he loved in order to remember details of their personal lives, and if it’s good enough for Mister Rogers, it’s good enough for Jack Daniels.

So every now and then, when he wants to give her a little nudge of his love, Jack will open up the notebook and look through the pages in order to pick something to give her; say she’d recently complained about how her work computer is too old to properly keep up with her needs: HR will, seemingly out of nowhere, have the resources to replace hers with a nice, shiny, brand new one. 

Perhaps she’d mentioned that she didn’t have a scarf suitable for the winter, and, out of the blue, a pretty white box will be on her desk with a prettier scarf inside, the gift only noted as one by a small card reading “To keep you warm. -An Admirer”. 

Flowers will be sent to her office, but never big, distinctly romantic bouquets. He prefers to send smaller, more simplified ones meant to brighten the room and her day, not distract her with gauche or gaudy proclamations of love. His favorite bouquet to send is a mixture of white lilies, white tulips, and a bright yellow pop of goldenrod: pure, sweet, and sincere, and close to his heart in their meanings. Yes, he learned flower languages specifically to make sure he was sending her thoughtful bouquets. Can you blame a man for being invested?

In the same notebook, he also jots down other things about her; moments when she looked especially lovely, things she’d said that he wants to remember (like jokes or sweet compliments), her allergies, her favorite movies: personal details. He remembers them well enough on his own, but he likes to have the physical notes to look over, too: they help him remember other details, too, forming webs and recalling details he’d thought he’d forgotten. It makes him feel ever-so-tender, and he loves taking the notes and poring over them again later whenever he needs a spark of her warmth in his chest.

In a different vein, Jack also tends to be a bit of a show-off whenever the situation permits. If there’s ever a chance to display how good he is with his whip or lasso in front of her, he’ll take it, gladly bringing out his splashiest techniques, hoping to get a smile out of her, always checking her expressions as he does his tricks to see if she’s responding as he’d hoped. Sometimes, if she’s watching him use his lasso and he does a particularly impressive trick, she’ll reward him with a round of dainty, polite applause, and his heart will swell (alongside his stroked ego) and Jack will be completely unable to suppress his gleeful, boyish smile.

Similarly, every so often, there’ll be an office party at the Statesman offices, and those are Jack’s opportunity to show off his dance moves. Dancing isn’t at all uncommon for the Statesmen-- they all love a good dance and pride themselves on being jovial people, often inclined to indulge in some good, old-fashioned fun-- but Jack stands out as one of the best dancers. While not as showy as Tequila, he’s got an undeniable grace and charm to his movements, one that issues an air of self-possession and aptitude for the art.

Thanks to the good fortune of his dancing ability and the providence of a social event like a dance, Jack’s been able to ask for his beloved’s hand on the dancefloor a few times. Something about knowing he’s a capable dancer instills Jack with the confidence he needs to approach her; it’s just a dance, after all, and plenty of their coworkers are dancing together platonically, so there’s no pressure on either of them to see the moment as more than just two friends having some harmless fun at a company event. Yet, still, in his heart of hearts, Jack knows that when he takes her hand and guides her onto the dancefloor, he’s not doing it out of mere companionship or camaraderie; his belly flutters with giddy excitement at her closeness to him, and at the intimacy of being able to share a dance together.

She’s not nearly so light of foot as he is, but he doesn’t mind in the slightest: in fact, he quite likes having to slow down and guide her, keeping his hands on her waist as he tells her where to put her feet. He adores the kittenish expression she’ll take on as she tries to follow his lead, staring down at their footwork, but he always relents and allows them to just sway or wiggle to the beat, depending on if it’s a slow song or a more exciting tempo. 

His favorites are the slow songs, the ones where he gets permission to put his hands on her hips and feel her arms around his neck, where he can, if only for a moment, gaze down into her eyes and smile at her the way lovers do. He has more than once wondered to himself if this would be the kind of dance they’d do at their wedding, then quickly tucked the thought away in a rush of chagrin. Still, the tendrils of the thought linger as they step side to side, whispering to each other in hushed, playful tones about the others dancing and the events of the night, placing bets on who among the others would be the most hungover come sunrise the next day.

Jack also is always quick to offer to drive her home or, at the very least, walk her to her car every chance he can. He’s a bit of a hopelessly overprotective soul; he doesn’t think he could stand to see her get hurt, so whenever he sees her packing up to go home, he asks if she needs a ride anywhere. If she doesn’t, he asks if she’d like to be walked to her vehicle, and always feels so comforted when she accepts: after all, he’s not just offering for her peace of mind. It’s for his, as well.

He’ll fall into stride by her side as they walk, his hands shifting position as he fidgets, part of him itching to reach out and interlace their fingers, part of him doing its best to keep him in line. Their hands hover dangerously close as they walk, and every now and then an uneven step will cause their knuckles to brush for the briefest microsecond, which kickstarts Jack’s poor, mooning heart, his head rushing with schoolboy glee at the touch of his crush.

When they reach her car, he always opens her door for her and, once she’s comfortably seated, he closes it for her as well. He’ll linger at her window and give her a confidentially lovesick smile, murmuring “Now, you get home safe, alright, darlin’?”

She always promises she will, and he’ll pat the door of her car, as if coaxing a horse into running, and watch her drive away with a forlorn look in his eye, wishing he had the courage to act on the ache in his heart.

Honestly, the car-walking isn’t even half of all the things he likes to do for her. He likes to pretend to be running out to get “everyone” lunch and just “happen” to ask her if he can get her anything, and when she insists she doesn’t want to be a bother, he’ll counter with all his Southern charm, protesting that a lady’s gotta eat, and that a gentleman ought to provide. 

Anytime he walks by her desk, he’ll ask if she needs anything, be it more staples or a drink or a break; Jack likes to feel helpful to her, like he’s showing her what a good provider he could be for her should they become a couple. 

If she comes in sick, he’ll fuss that she needs to go home and rest, and won’t get to work on any of his projects until he’s gently cooed at her to go home and sleep and drink lots of fluids, and he’s scolded whatever supervisor made her come in when she is so clearly ill. Once she’s home and safely ensconced in her bed, then he’ll resume work; not a moment before. If she comes in stressed or anxious, he’ll come to her side and speak to her quietly, asking if there’s anything he can do, or if she’d like to step outside and just talk for a moment. 

In short, Jack shows his care by being present: he lingers near her, listens to her needs, keeps a respectful distance until he knows it’s alright to draw closer. All he wants to do is treat her like the lovely lady she is and give her all his respect, reverence, and devotion. And then, maybe, someday, he’ll find the words to tell her just how much he cares about her, and, maybe, hear that she cares just as much for him. Until then, he’s willing to wait; she’s worth it.

[lonely-full-of-secrets]

The Breakup Bouquet (Sweet Pea x Reader)

Word Count: 1250

Summary: Sweet Pea asks you about how the ‘Breakup Bouquet’ came to be.

A/n: written for the weekly au challenge on the southsidearchive discord

Being a florist has its perks. A lot of people come in buying flowers for loved ones. The reasons vary. They can be for a date, an anniversary or even just because they want to surprise their significant other with flowers. It can be something very special to see. 

But out of all the bouquets of flowers you sell, your absolute favorite is the ‘Breakup Bouquet’. Not only is it a crafty way of selling wilting flowers and broken vases, but you sometimes get a kick out of the notes left to the person receiving the bouquet. 

The ‘Breakup Bouquet’ is very simple. It can consist of a variety of wilting flowers, depending on the client’s preferences. What distinguishes this bouquet from any other is the recognizable striped carnations, often surrounded by sweet peas, along with a cracked or shattered vase, dried stems and a note. 

All flowers aside, the best part of your day was when the delivery boy showed up, a Southside Serpent named Sweet Pea. He got his nickname when he was fourteen and he broke a crate of sweet pea flowers on his first day. The then owner of the shop laughed it off and started calling him sweet pea and the name just stuck. 

You had kept him on to deliver the occasional bouquet when you bought the shop, even though you were sure he didn’t need the job. The bells above the shop’s door chime and you look up, a smile automatically gracing your lips. 

Sweet Pea strides up to the front counter and leans on his elbows. “Another successful delivery. Though, this one was kind of hard to walk away from.”

You scrunch your eyebrows, “Why? What happened?”

Sweet Pea was torn. He didn’t know whether to laugh or feel sorry for the poor girl he just delivered a ‘Breakup Bouquet’ to. “Well, at first she thought it was sweet that she was getting flowers but I think she recognized it. She snatched the note from me and when she read it she screamed so loud I thought she’d blow out my eardrum. Then she went crazy and smashed the vase on the ground and stomped on it, still screaming by the way.” He shutters the memory away. 

You bite your lip to keep from laughing. “Aww. Which note was that one?” Even though you promise your clients you don’t read the notes they write, you couldn’t help it. Especially with Sweet Pea by your side urging you to read the reasons behind this cruel form of breaking up with someone. 

He thinks about it for a second. “Definitely the one that gets called a cunt.”

You cringe remembering what was written. “I don’t know about her, but her ex was definitely an asshole. Good thing I charged him extra.” 

Sweet Pea laughs. “Yes, good thing.” He then looks at you curiously and deep in thought. 

“What?” you ask. Was there something on your face?

He stands back up again, leaving his hands on the counter. “I never asked how you came up with the ‘Breakup Bouquet’. I guess, I’m just curious” he shrugs. 

You walk around the front counter and pick up a spray bottle. “Right after I bought this place, business was slow. Small towns really don’t trust outsiders.” You stand in front of some tulips and spray them with water. 

Sweet Pea nods, knowing how ruthless the people of Riverdale could be. 

You move on to spray some sunflowers. “I did as much as I could to lower prices. I created discounts and even made smaller, cheaper arrangements but nothing was working.” You continue to walk around the shop as you talk, spraying the flowers as Sweet Pea follows. 

“My flowers were dying and I couldn’t afford to throw them away. I had to figure out a way to sell them as they were. And then my saving grace came in the form of a gorgeous douchebag.”

Sweet Pea raises his eyebrows at your description and glares at some orchids. “Gorgeous?”

You take in his expression. On the surface he seems to be teasing but his eyes show something else. Jealousy maybe? Either way it makes you smile. “Focusing on the wrong piece of information there, Pea.”

He rolls his eyes. “Okay, genius. How did this ‘gorgeous douchebag’ help you save your business?”

You thought about it for a second then continued. “He came in and asked specifically for something that screams ‘I’m breaking up with you’. He said that he didn’t know how to break things off with a girl and that he figured sending flowers would do the trick. Something with a hidden meaning.” You walked back to the counter to check what arrangement you needed to work on next. 

“Eventually, I got it down.” You pointed to the items as you spoke about them. “Striped carnations can mean ‘no’ or even ‘I can’t be with you’. So, those were an obvious choice. The wilting or dead flowers along with the broken vase mean that the relationship is dying or is, you know...”. 

“Broken,” Sweet Pea finishes your sentence, now understanding the meaning behind the ‘Breakup Bouquet’. 

You walk over to a certain flower, pluck one up and tuck it into the top pocket of Sweet Pea’s jean jacket so that it peaks out. “And lastly, the sweet pea’s in the bouquet mean goodbye.” You pat his pocket and smile up at him. He lightly bops your nose and brings you out of your thoughts. 

“Anyway, can you believe he had the audacity to ask me out after ordering?” You shake your head at the memory. 

Sweet Pea studies you for a second. “You didn’t say yes, right?”

You felt your face get hot. It wasn’t your proudest moment. “Don’t judge,” you point at him smiling because you already know he is physically unable to hold in a laugh. 

He does laugh. “That had to have backfired,” he said.

You cringe on the inside but laugh out loud. It was a long time ago and in the end you grew as a person. “Yeah it did. We were only talking for a few weeks when I come home to some flowers at my front door.”

Sweet Pea gasped. “No! He bought you breakup flowers from your own shop?”

You scrunch your face at the tasteless form of breaking up with someone. “Yup.” 

“Well now I know three things about him.” You look at him curiously. “Well according to you, he’s gorgeous,” he raises his hand and brings up a finger for everything he names off. “He’s a douchebag. And lastly, he’s a fucking idiot.”

You didn’t expect for that last one. “Oh?”

“Mmhm.” He hums matter of factly. “If you were my girl, I’d never let you slip through my fingers without a fight. And of course, I’d treat you right.”

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest. Was he implying what you thought he was? “Sweet Pea, are you trying to ask me out?”

He smiles as a light pink dusts his cheeks. “Yeah, sorry. This wasn’t how I wanted to ask you.” He looks down and rubs the back of his neck with his hand, unsure if you’d even agree to go on a date with him. 

He looks up at you when you say, “It’s about time. I seriously thought you’d never ask.” Sweet Pea’s stomach is fluttering with nerves which only intensify when you kiss his cheek and say, “Pick me up at 7”. 

[acedesigns]

Book of Flowers [Good Omens: Aziraphale X Reader]

Word Count: 2100

Warnings: Mention of death of a relative, minimal editing

A/N: I love drying flowers, so I wanted to make it into a story. =)

--

There was a book you held dear to you. It was special, probably far more special than any of the books Aziraphale had collected himself. It told the story of you and him.

The first flowers you ever received from Aziraphale was on your birthday. You had been friends for quite a time before that day. Though you tried to keep your birthday hidden, not wanting to make a big deal of it, Aziraphale somehow found out.

There was a light knocking on your door. When you opened it, Aziraphale was standing there with a bouquet of sunflowers. His smile was just as bright and cheery as the flowers themselves.

“Happy birthday, my dear!” He handed the flowers to a stunned you.

“How did you know?”

“I have my ways!” He gave you a cheeky grin and stepped into your home while you filled a vase with water and trimmed the ends of the flowers. “I was wondering if perhaps you’d like to go out for dinner to celebrate your birthday. It’d be my treat!”

“You don’t have to do that, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “I want to. I’m happy I’ve gotten to know you and that you’ve become my friend. Therefore, I don’t see any reason why we shouldn’t celebrate you being alive.”

--

There was also the time where you had fallen ill for a couple of weeks. You felt absolutely miserable, even more so due to the fact that you hadn’t been able to see your best friend. However, while you were sleeping, Aziraphale had used the spare key you’ve gifted him to allow himself in your home. He called out your name while looking around the house for you. When he saw you asleep in your bed, he sighed in relief.

The blond went to go fill a vase with cold water and placed a bunch of bright yellow daffodils in it. He slowly made his way back to your bedroom and placed the flowers on your side table. His hand drifted towards your head and moved some strands of hair out of your face.

“[Y/N],” he cooed softly. You began to stir. “Wake up my dear, you need to drink some water.” With a quiet snap, a glass of water instantly appeared next to the vase of flowers with some medication. Though, you were completely ignorant of the miracle he had performed.

You groaned and sat up in bed. “Aziraphale? What are you doing here?” you croaked. There was a stinging in your vocal cords.

“I was worried about you,” Aziraphale said softly. He handed you a glass of water and two ibuprofen pills. “Take this, my dear. It’ll help you feel better.”

You quickly swallowed the pills with two gulps of water. It hurt, but you ignored the pain. You glanced over towards the flower and instantly, your day was brightened. “Did you get those for me?”

“Yes! I thought you might like them and that they might make you feel better.”

You hummed and nodded your head in agreement. “Thank you.”

--

The next flower was a peach carnation. You wanted to thank Aziraphale for taking care of you. It took you hours in the florist’s shop to decide exactly what you wanted. It needed to be something special. Something that would brighten his day as he brightened yours so many times.

The florist was starting to get annoyed with you, but you ignored them before finally picking one. It had white lilies, the carnations, peach roses, and echeveria succulents. The succulents really added to the bouquet to make it special.

When you handed the bouquet to Aziraphale, his face exploded in color. He kept giggling to himself. No one had ever given him flowers before. He hugged you tightly before proudly displaying them in his shop.

--

Then, there was the time where a loved one passed away. Aziraphale showed up to escort you to the funeral. He held you as you cried into his chest. One of his hands would play with your hair while the other rubbed circles on your back. He would whisper sweet words to you.

“They knew how much you loved them,” he would say. “They loved you so much. It’s okay to cry. You will get through this and you will be okay.”

After the funeral was over, he took out a handkerchief and wiped your tears. His hand lingered for a moment or two before he took it back to his side. He gave you a sad smile, one filled with sympathy.

“How about a magic trick to help cheer you up, my dear?”

You looked at him with curiosity. It was enough to ease your sobs into silence. He waved his hands around. Then, one hand reached past your ear. When he pulled back, there was a singular white rose.

“How?” you asked slightly stunned. Aziraphale was always garbage at magic, but what he just did was extraordinary.

--

Then was the first time you realized you were utterly in love with him.

The two of you were sitting in a park. He was sitting on a bench with his straight posture, gazing out at the water where ducks were circling around. You were sitting in the grass next to him, picking the dandelions that the government workers had yet to weed. Though, you were happy that these yellow-maned flowers were there. It gave you an excuse to weave a crown. Each stem got braided into the next until you had finished the circle.

You glanced up at Aziraphale who was busy thinking about something. Slowly, you stood up while cradling the crown in your hands. In an instant, you plopped the crown on his head and staggered backward to get a good look at him. He looked up towards the crown with a slightly confused face. A bright blush spread across your cheeks at how cute he looked.

‘Oh no,’ you thought to yourself. ‘I’m in love with him.’

--

The next page had a rainbow of tulips.

The carpet in your home had seen better days. You had paced back and forth in a spot repeatedly. There must have been a way for you to get over your feelings for him or for you to tell him. Either way, you had to preserve the friendship you had with him.

A knock on your door interrupted you. Much like when it was your birthday, Aziraphale was standing there with the flowers. Though, he looked nervous and unsure of himself.

“Aziraphale?”

“Hello, [Y/N],” he swallowed down some fear. “Mind if I come in?”

You stepped aside and shut the door behind him. He looked around your home nervously and straightened his tie. He looked at you and he felt his face growing warm. Yours mirrored his as you both just stared at each other in an uncomfortable, heavy silence.

“Right, I should tell you why I’m here,” Aziraphale started and then handed you the flowers. “For you. Though, I don’t think they could ever…” He choked on his words. “Ever…Ever match your beauty.”

“O-Oh,” you stammered and put the tulips to your face. You inhaled their scent in an attempt to hide the hot blush on your face. “Thank you.”

“Sorry if that was too forward. Crowley…Well, he told me to say that.”

“He did?”

“Yes, you see…I,” he paused. “I have fallen for you. Quite hard, I might add. I am totally and completely in love with you.”

The air in your lungs escaped you. Your heart skipped multiple beats. For a moment, your mind went blank. Then, you took one step towards him. Then, another. Finally, you lunged towards him and gripped him in a tight embrace.

“I love you, too.”

--

There were pages of roses, lilies, and lilacs. Each held a specific memory. Some were dates, anniversaries, just because, and whatnot. There was then a very painful page. Dark crimson roses were on it. It was when Aziraphale nearly left you.

“I haven’t been honest with you, [Y/N].” Aziraphale looked frightened. He had given you the crimson roses. They were for mourning. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this. I can’t hurt you.”

“What do you mean?” You were confused and scared. He was acting strange, has been for the past few weeks. “Aziraphale, what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Aziraphale,” you pleaded and grabbed the sleeve to his coat. You felt tears streaming down your face. “Aziraphale, please talk to me. What’s going on? Please tell me what I did. I can fix this.”

Aziraphale looked at you. It looked as though his heart was breaking. “You didn’t do anything, my dear. It’s all me, I promise you.”

“Please, just explain it,” you started to sob. “I’ll try to fix it, please. Please, I’m begging you. I love you so much.”

Aziraphale sighed and wiped a tear from your face. He leaned forward and placed a peck on your forehead. His lips lingered there. You leaned into his touch, terrified that when he pulled away, he would leave you forever.

“I’m not a human,” Aziraphale finally said.

“What?”

Aziraphale took a couple of steps backward. His hands were placed behind his back. It was almost as though if they were in front of him, he would reach out towards you and never let go. But he had to let go, that’s what he was telling himself.

“I’m an angel,” he whispered with sorrow. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you. I didn’t know how to.”

“You’re an angel?”

“Yes.”

You looked down at the flowers you were holding and then back at him. Slowly, you placed the flowers on the chair next to you and took several steps towards the angel. Your arms wrapped around him. You gripped him tightly and didn’t want to let go.

“You’re an angel. But you’re also Aziraphale. I love you, no matter what.”

Aziraphale fought with himself. He didn’t know if being with you would place a target on you because of Heaven’s vendetta against you. But he also wanted to be selfish. He knew he’d always love you, no matter of whether or not you were together. Either way, you’d become a target.

“You’re not angry?”

“I’m mad that you thought that this could break us up!” you looked up at him with a scowl. “But I’m not mad that you didn’t tell me that you’re an angel.”

“Right, you’re right. I’m sorry. I should have known you wouldn’t let this get between us,” he ran a hand along your cheek and to your chin. Cupping your head, he leaned down and pecked your lips. “I love you more than anything on this Earth or in Heaven.”

You smiled at him. “I love you, too.”

--

The book was filled with flowers that told your story. Petals of various colors were sealed in the pages with dates and small captions of what happened. It was the most special book you’ve ever possessed. Now, you were hoping it’d be the most special book Aziraphale would ever have.

You clutched the leather binding close to your chest as you walked down the steps from Aziraphale’s flat to his bookshop. He was sipping some hot cocoa while reading over a new book he acquired. You paused for a moment to take this image in. He was always adorable wearing those glasses that you were certain he didn’t need. Did angels did need glasses? Every time he took a sip of his sweet drink, he’d get that little smile of pure bliss.

“Aziraphale,” you called and finished walking down the steps. He put his mug down and turned towards you with a warm smile.

“Hello, [Y/N],” he greeted. His eyes glanced towards the book in your arms. “What do you have there?”

"A book for you.”

The book made its way from your hands over towards his. He examined it and opened the cover. The angel was silent while looking over through the pages. A single hand went up to his mouth. He sniffed a couple of times and dabbed away a few tears. He looked over at you with a smile as tears continued to fall from his eyes. He tried to say something, but only a couple of sounds came out. He paused and with a chuckle tried to keep the tears from falling.

“It’s beautiful, [Y/N]. Thank you.” He opened his arms and brought you in for a tight embrace. He kissed the top of your head and continued to weep happy tears. “This is the most wonderful gift I’ve ever received, thank you.”

[rosapeachhogwartsmystery]

It runs in the family - part 2 (Hogwarts Mystery Imagine)

Masterlist  (To view my Masterlist, visit my Tumblr page)

Words: 3.0k

_______________________________________________________

“You know, this isn’t going to work if you are not trying.”

You frowned at your grandfather’s words when he said that. “I am trying!”

“Then try harder. If you want to keep Dumbledore out of your mind and manage to break into Patricia Rakepick’s mind, you will need to be skilled at Occlumency and Legilimency. How else do you think Jacob got away with things for years. Dumbledore is definitely not a stupid man; Jacob knew he would have to outsmart him.” Your grandfather said seriously. “It’s not a surprise Dumbledore keeps a closer eye on you than Jacob. The man has seen some tricks. However, Jacob hasn’t learnt tricks from me. I can help you with new ways to get around people without them knowing it.”

“So, I would have to outsmart Dumbledore with Occlumency?” You raised an eyebrow.

“It would be the best way to work in secrecy if you did.” He said honestly. “However, we definitely have to keep working on your Legilimency too. It could safe your live if you deal with the bad crowd.”

“You mean I have to keep practicing throughout the year in order to keep out of more trouble?”

“Exactly. You are already in trouble for last year. Perhaps scrubbing these pans and pots in the kitchen gives you some time to create a correct mindscape.”

That’s right, you would have to spend your detention in the Kitchens this year… Maybe it won’t be too bad…?

_______________________

 The summer was over, it was time to get aboard the Hogwarts Express again. You wondered how things would be different from last year. You knew Madam Rakepick was going to be your new DADA teacher, which made you wonder whether that was a good or a bad thing. Your grandfather seems to think it’s a bad thing. He doesn’t trust Rakepick at all. Then again, you didn’t fully trust Rakepick either. Maybe Jacob wasn’t fond of Rakepick either. Another thing that runs in the family…

Your grandfather only dropped you off at King’s Cross Station with your stuff. When you were about to leave, your grandfather grabbed your shoulder.

“Keep your eyes open and keep people out of your mind.” He said seriously.

You nodded when you looked at him.

“Good, have fun year.” He said before he left without giving you time to say goodbye to him.

You sighed softly and then you began making your way towards Platform 9 ¾. You were pushing your cart around, keeping an eye on the Muggles around you. You knew you would have to make sure they wouldn’t see you run into the barrier.

‘There…’ You thought when you reached the barrier that would get you to Platform 9 ¾. Once no one was looking, you ran straight through the barrier, reaching the Platform.

 Once you got all your stuff on board, you began looking for a compartment you could sit in. You preferred to find an empty one or one where some of your friends were in.

“It’s her…”

You heard people whispering when you passed them. You also notice they were staring at you again. It was like that every year. In the first year it kind of made your nervous, but you never showed it to them. Your face was blank and emotionless, making sure you wouldn’t show them anything. Now, you weren’t afraid to glare at some people, thinking it wouldn’t really matter anyways. Besides, the glares were just as cold and scary as the cold expression you always wore.

‘Thank Merlin…’ You thought when you saw an empty compartment. You quickly made your way in and tried to be more comfortable. You hated the staring and whispering. Just because your parents were bad didn’t mean you were bad too. Of course, they also looked down upon you because of your missing brother and your strange and cold grandfather.

‘He probably teaches her the Dark Arts when she is staying home.’ People usually assumed he did things like that. He never taught you a curse once in your life. Heck, teaching you how to use Legilimency and Occlumency was the first thing he was willing to teach you. He usually was busy with his own things.

 You were glad when you sat down in the compartment, closing the curtains a little, so people wouldn’t look inside. It definitely felt more comfortable that way. You wondered if your friends were already in the train somewhere. You could look for them, but you didn’t feel like going out of the compartment when people were still not seated somewhere on the train.

You decided to close the curtains a bit, not wanting people to stare at you when you were just sitting here. It was already annoying enough to hear them whispering about you when you passed them in halls and other public places.

You opened your trunk and pulled out an old book your grandfather owned. It was about Occlumency, thinking it would be the best way to keep up with his training. It looked like this book has been around for quite a while, like you wouldn’t be able to find this specific copy pf the book in the store anymore. ‘Occlumency: To Protect Your Deepest and Darkest Secrets’. Step one: Control your emotions. That was something you didn’t have a problem with. Your grandfather has been helping you with controlling your emotions since you were about six years old.

 You continued looking into the book a bit, until the door of the compartment opened. You looked up and noticed it was just Barnaby.

“There you are. I was already wondering where you were.” He said with a smile. “Most people don’t close their curtains in here.”

“Well, it keeps the most annoying people out.” You said with a small grin. “Do you want to sit here with me?”

“I suppose that makes sense. You don’t want others to keep looking at you.” He said honestly. “And sure, I would like to sit with you during the train ride.”

You nodded and signed to him he could come in. He quickly got inside and then he closed the door behind him.

 “How was your summer, Barnaby?” You decided to ask when you put your book back into your trunk.

“It was… okay I suppose. Grandma didn’t seem top bothered by things. Although, she kept yelling at me for basically nothing.” He frowned a little when he thought about it.

“She has been yelling at you again…?” You frowned a little as well. “She didn’t do anything else, right?”

“Just the usual insults, nothing new I suppose. I’ve got to spend a lot of time outside though. I could take care of some Bowtruckles, so that was nice.”

“So, you didn’t have to stay inside all day.”

“No, she didn’t seem to be keeping me inside all day.” He said honestly. “How about your summer?”

You shrugged. “My grandfather isn’t someone who says a lot. I have spent a lot of time indoors though because…” You couldn’t really tell Barnaby about the trainings you had with your grandfather.

“Because of what…?”

“Because… My grandfather wasn’t too pleased with my behaviour at Hogwarts last year.” You lied. “He heard about my punishment this year.”

“Oh…”

“It wasn’t too bad or anything.” You told him quickly, giving him a small smile.

“Are you sure? I mean, my gran can be quite… You know? When she is angry?” He shot you a worried look.

You winced slightly, knowing what Barnaby was talking about. You once again shook your head, letting him know something like that didn’t happen.

“Good, that’s good.” He said, looking relieved for some reason.

 You were about to ask him if his grandmother and other relatives might have been bothering him some more than he let on, but you were interrupted when three of your other friends walked into the compartment.

“I told you, this was the most logical place she would be. No one else would close the curtains to prevent people from looking into the compartment besides very tired people and Y/N Y/L/N.” Tulip said with a small smirk.

“I suppose you have found the right tactic for finding Y/N in the train, Tulip.” Rowan said honestly and then she smiled at you.

“We were wondering where you were.” Charlie said with a small smile.

“You know me, I just like having some privacy.” You said with a shrug. “Barnaby also figured I would be in here because of the closed curtains.”

“Yeah, Y/N usually is somewhere more private, so I thought she would be in here.” Barnaby said honestly.

“We can sit here with you two, right?” Rowan suddenly asked, wondering if they had interrupted something.

“Yeah, of course.” You said quickly, letting them know they could sit here.

 To be honest, you kind of wanted to know whether everything was going all right at Barnaby’s home, but you wouldn’t talk about that in front of the others. You knew things were different in families who prefer Dark Arts and you didn’t want to worry your friends in case there was nothing. Barnaby said his grandmother yelled at him, but besides that he seemed to be happy he was able to spend a lot of time outside. You just hoped he didn’t enjoy being outside because he was treated awfully whenever he was inside.

You were almost tempted to use your Legilimency, but you were afraid you might now be able to see his mind. Your grandfather mostly trained you to keep your mind closed this Summer. He did say you would have to practice your Legilimency too, but you weren’t sure how you would be able to do that. You sometimes had access to Jacob’s mind, but you weren’t sure how you would gain access to another mind as easily as Jacob’s mind.

You would have to use your wand to get access to Barnaby’s mind, but you definitely didn’t want others to know you were born with the gift of Legilimency. If they knew, the Professors and Headmaster would know you are able to see other people’s minds. You definitely didn’t want other students to know about it either, so you had to keep your ability a secret for now.

 Once Rowan sat down, you noticed a badge on her robes. You knew exactly what this meant: Rowan was chosen as a Prefect. You could see Charlie also had the Prefect badge on his robe.

“So, you were chosen as Prefects.” You pointed out, looking at Charlie and Rowan.

“Ah, yes.” Charlie said. “You can imagine my mom was ecstatic when you found out. I suppose being a Prefect is going to become a tradition if it’s up to my mom.”

“Well, I suppose it’s not a bad tradition to have.” You grinned before you looked at Rowan, giving her a smile. “I’m pretty sure you are happy you were chosen to become a Prefect.”

“Yeah, I’m glad I became a Prefect, but I was surprised you didn’t become the Prefect instead of me.” Rowan said honestly.

You shrugged. “After last year? Yeah, I don’t think they would want to choose me. Besides, I have enough to do besides looking for the Vaults, like going to Detentions.”

“Oh, right… Dumbledore forced you to go to Detention in the Kitchen for the year.” Rowan said looking a little bad.

“Well, not every day. Just once a week. I’m sure I manage. Can’t be worse than anything else I have dealt with.”

 “How was the rest of your summer?” Rowan decided to ask, changing the topic.

“It was… interesting.” You decided to tell her. You wouldn’t be surprised if you had to answer these questions a few more times once you meet up with the rest of your friends.

“And what do you mean with interesting?” Tulip asked, raising her eyebrow at you.

“You know… My grandfather can be a little mysterious from time to time.” You said.

“She did mostly stay indoors though.” Barnaby said. “At least that was what she told me.”

“Really now? So, even more than usually? I mean, your grandfather is pretty strict about you going somewhere outdoors, right?” Tulip looked a bit suspicious, like she felt you were keeping something interesting from her.

“Yeah, I wasn’t even allowed in the garden.” You said and then you rubbed the back of your head. “He just heard about my punishment and wasn’t too pleased by it. So, he decided to make the rest of my summer very boring.”

Tulip didn’t look convinced but she nodded a bit, deciding to let it go for now.

“Well, at least you can have some fun at Hogwarts and Hogsmeade when you are not in detention. I mean, the professors won’t have a reason to keep you indoors unless it’s for your safety.” Charlie said honestly, smiling a little.

“Or when you get in more troubles with Tonks and I.” Tulip grinned.

_______________________

‘How can I practice Legilimency when there is no one I can practice on? It would be too obvious to use practice it somewhere. Dumbledore and Rakepick will notice something like that immediately.’ You thought when you were wandering around the corridors.

Your grandfather might have told you to practice the arts of Legilimency, but it was a lot harder to practice than Occlumency. They were both very difficult, but you didn’t need someone else to clear your mind. You practiced to build a wall inside your mind, hoping it could stop people like Dumbledore from looking into your mind. Although, just practicing Occlumency wouldn’t help you to develop your skills as a Legilimens. If someone just knew about your ability, then you could ask them if they are willing to open their minds for you.

You were thinking so much about finding something to practice your Legilimency, you didn’t really look where you were going at this point. You didn’t even realise you were about to bump into someone.

“Woah…!” You yelped when you nearly fell on the ground. However, you were caught by someone before you hit the floor.

“Ah, sorry, Y/N!”

You looked up at the person who caught you. “It’s okay, Barnaby.”

 Barnaby helped you to get back on your feet and then he gave you a sheepish grin. “Sorry about that, I wasn’t really looking where I was going.”

“Don’t worry about it, neither was I.” You told him honestly. “Too lost in my thoughts.”

“Oh? What were you thinking about? Bowtruckles perhaps? I know I was thinking about them.” He gave you a questioned look.

You couldn’t help but to grin. “No, I wasn’t thinking about Bowtruckles.”

“Then what were you thinking about?”

You once again weren’t sure what to tell him. This is the second time he managed to ask you something you shouldn’t really share with him. “Uhm… Well, I was thinking about something I need to do.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “Something you need to do? Like something for the Vaults?”

“Well… I could be handy. I mean, maybe?”

“You know we are willing to help you out, right? I mean, you don’t have to do things on your own.” Barnaby said honestly, knowing you would probably try to do this without your friends’ help.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea to help though…”

“Why not?”

“Because… Well…. It’s complicated, okay? I just don’t want to do something I regret later on. I also don’t want you all to just… get mad at me.”

 “Why would we get mad at you?” Barnaby asked, wondering what was going on.

You bit your lip and looked at your feet. “It’s just that… This isn’t a really usual request… Maybe… Maybe I can tell you, but no one else should know about this… Not yet.”

He looked slightly surprised. “So, it’s a big secret? And no one else knows about this yet?”

“None of my friends, no… You would be the first one.”

“Wow… I mean, are you willing to tell me? I can understand you would probably want to tell someone who has been friends with you longer than I have, like Rowan. She knows how to keep things a secret pretty well.” He said, wondering if he was the right person for this.

“Well… We have quite some things in common when it comes to our upbringing… I can talk about things I can’t talk about with others.”

“So… This has something to do with your family then?”

“Just partly.” You said with a sigh. “Look, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. But the least I can do is to inform you about what this is about.”

“Well… Since this seems to be important to you… I’m willing to help you out with whatever you are going to ask.”

 You blinked, wondering if you heard him right. “What?”

“I’m willing to help you out with whatever you are going to ask.” Barnaby said seriously.

“Are you certain about that…? It’s not going to be a usual request…” You said, feeling slightly uneasy about it.

He placed an hand on your shoulder. “You seem to be troubled by something and I am ready to help you out.”

You gave him a small smile. “You are too kind, do you know that?”

“Well, we are friends, aren’t we? We help each other out, like we have done ever since we became friends. Besides, you have been acting off since the day we got in the train.”

He noticed something with was off… He probably has been waiting for you to talk about something like this to mention that. You were certain he decided not to talk about it when the others joined you in the train. Or he realised something was off after the train ride. You thought he seemed to relief you weren’t hurt, but maybe he had been thinking about it some more? You weren’t sure, because Barnaby didn’t seem to be like someone who would think about things like that, but maybe you were wrong? After all, things aren’t easy at his home either.

 “All right, let’s go somewhere private, okay?”

[cursebreakerglenetive]

Dance with me

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x Gryffindor reader

Warning/Genre: Fluff and passion

Word count:  2k words

Summary: It’s time for a ball at Hogwarts and Y/N’s crush Charlie Weasley asked her to be his date! Some jealousy ensues and Charlie pulls out all his tricks to impress Jacob’s sibling.

A/N: Okay so I can’t wait for a Hogwarts ball anymore so I just had to write it myself...whoops! Also after @wispila​ ‘s jealous!Charlie headcanons I just had to include it somehow. I hope you enjoy it!

Tonight was the night you and your friends waited for for so long. You were all looking forward to the big ball that was held in honor of the summer solstice as you and your girl friends got ready in your dormitories.

“I am so excited!“ Penny squealed as she fixed your hair in an elegant updo, only she could manage to do. 

“This is gonna be a blast!“ Tonks chimed in and gave Tulip a high five who was doing a professional eyeliner stroke in the mirror. 

“And all of you look so beautiful.“ Rowan observed and you smiled at her sweetly as you let your eyes wander over your friends. 

Penny was wearing a dress with a radiant yellow ruffled skirt and a laced white top which made her look like the most beautiful flower you have ever seen.

Whereas Tulip opted for a dark blue dress in a renaissance style representing her house colors and she had her hair up as well and pinned with a bow which framed her lovely face.

Rowan wore a wonderful black dress with long bell sleeves in a medieval style that was adorned with silver details.

And Tonks went wild like always in a big lilac tulle skirt and dark leggings and lots and lots of pearl necklaces slung around her neck. 

“You all truly look so lovely.“ You complimented your friends and they had bright smiles on their faces in an instant.

“And you! I bet that someone special of yours will be melting.“ Tulip teased and a blush formed on your cheeks.

Charlie Weasley asked you to be his date to the ball as soon as it was announced. You had never seen him so flustered but that only made you like him even more.

Usually he was this confident guy who made you giggle about the stupidest puns and at the same time he had this soft and caring side that always came out when he was talking about or around magical creatures, especially dragons. 

You could listen to him all day talking about Hungarian Horntails or Norwegian Ridgebacks simply because you loved to see his warm brown eyes sparkle with excitement.

“Earth to Y/N! You dreaming about Charlie again?“ Penny waved her hand in front of your face to get your attention.

“Sorry.“ You mumbled while furiously blushing. You couldn’t help it that you liked that boy so much.

“I bet he’ll fall to his knees as soon as he sees you.“ Rowan assured you while eyeing you up and down.

You sure hoped so because Andre helped you pick out your dress and dragged you from store to store for days until he was happy. You yourself had no clue what to wear to a formal event like the Solstice Ball. You knew how to break curses and jump head first into danger but dancing and dresses? Those were the real mysteries for you. 

You slowly made your way to the mirror and looked at a person who couldn’t possibly be you. The deep red skirt of the dress hugged your hips and flowed all the way towards the ground looking like a shimmering waterfall of red wine. The golden embroidered top accented every curve of your body perfectly, leaving a little bit of your waist free and nearly made your skin glow. And for once your hair was not all over the place like after a duel but actually looked wonderful in addition to the make up Penny helped you with.

You really felt beautiful and all thanks to your wonderful friends.

“Wow, guys! Thank you so so much for your help!“ You ushered all the girls into a big group hug before you touched up the final parts and made your way to the Great Hall.

-

You saw the group of boys already waiting for all of you at the entrance and they all looked dashing in their suits and robes. But Charlie…good Godric…Charlie looked more handsome than you’ve ever seen him. 

His suit and robes were a deep grey, nearly black and accented in the same colors as your dress. You smiled as you saw a thick waist belt wrapped around his torso in red with tiny golden dragon scales. You silently thanked Andre for obviously doing such an exceptional job with your date as well.

“Don’t you look handsome?“ You greeted Charlie and smiled at him.

“Wow… Y/N…you look…you are…,“ He stuttered as his eyes roamed your body and face in a way that made you feel hot all over, „Beautiful! Radiant! Absolutely stunning!“ He finally finished and gave you one of his alluring smiles that made the freckles on his face dance. 

“Thank you.“ You whispered and took his arm as he offered it to you.

“Shall we?“ He questioned and nodded towards the entrance where your friends passed trough.

“Lead the way.“ You laughed and watched how Charlie proudly entered with you by his side.

-

After chatting and eating with your friends for a while (Tulip and Tonks smuggled in some fire whiskey and were already quite drunk) you made your way over to Andre, Barnaby and Charlie who were laughing about something at the other side of the dance floor.

“What’s so funny?“ You chimed in and positioned yourself next to Charlie who wrapped an arm around your waist and smiled down at you.

“We just thought about what a disaster we would be tonight without Andre’s help.“ Barnaby explained and motioned to Charlie and himself.

“I really like this belt by the way, I might just keep it on forever.“ Charlie joked and clapped Andre on the shoulder as a way of saying thanks.

“Really you did a wonderful job,“ Your hand caressed the fabric of your satin skirt, “Thank you so much again for helping me out.“ Grabbing Andre’s hand you gave it a short squeeze and he squeezed back grinning.

“Your welcome! You’re all already bloody attractive, just needed some polishing up.“ Andre was such a kind-hearted soul and you cherished him so much as a friend.

“You really are looking beautiful Y/N.“ Barnaby told you and your blush made a comeback. It was so unusual hearing compliments like that.

You felt as Charlie pulled you a bit closer to him, his grip becoming stronger around your waist. Confused your eyes wandered up to his face which was set in stone, the smile from just a few seconds ago gone.

“Where is Penny anyways?“ Charlie suddenly asked Barnaby who asked her to be his date for tonight. You admitted that the two of them looked really good together but their personalities were kind of clashing.

“Uh…gossiping with Tonks, I think.“ Barnaby furrowed his eyebrows at Charlie and let his gaze wander over the Hall looking for his date.

“C’mon, I’ll help you look!“ Andre offered and steered Barnaby away giving Charlie a wink as they departed.

“What was that all about?“ You turned towards Charlie already suspecting he might be jealous but wanting to hear it from himself.

But he only waved it off. “Nothing. Come dance with me?“ Before you could say yes he steered you towards the dance floor between the students who were already wiggling and shuffling like crazy.

You decided to let it go for now and enjoyed dancing with Charlie to the uplifting music.

He twirled you around to the melody and you shook your hips to the beat and came up with silly dance moves that had the both of you clutching your stomachs of laughter. 

Suddenly the music changed and a slower more romantic song came on.

You didn’t really know how to dance to this kind of music so you were about to leave the floor when Charlie caught your hand in his and pulled you against his chest.

“Not so fast, princess.“ Charlie positioned the both of you in a dancing stance and then counted the tact to start.

“Princess?“ You inquired because he certainly never called you that before.

“You look like one tonight. Actually more like a queen or a warrior goddess.“ He rambled and caressed the scars on your hand and the the tiny exposed part of your lower back while leading you trough the steps. 

It was so sweet that it nearly made you cry. Only Charlie could turn something like your scars, that reminded you of all your fought battles and the desperate search for your brother everyday, into something that was worth admiring and beautiful.

But you swallowed down the emotion and said instead: “Are you my Prince Charming then?“

He chuckled at that and nuzzled his nose in the crook of your neck as he softly whispered into your ear: “I can be anything you want me to be.“

You felt goosebumps forming on your skin and inhaled his wonderful scent of the outdoors. 

Out of instinct you rested your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes.

“When did you learn to dance like that?“ You knew Charlie was not one of the clumsy Weasleys but you still couldn’t picture the tall, muscled guy before you dancing by himself.

“Andre might have helped out with that as well,“ He chuckled and then suddenly dipped you so his face was directly above yours, “I wanted to impress you.“

“You certainly managed to do that.“ You giggled astonished as he pulled you close to him again. “But you already impress me just being yourself, Charlie.“

He looked into your eyes adoringly and had the biggest goofiest smile on his face. “Same to you. But you know, you more than anybody deserve to be treated extra special once in a while… or rather always.“ 

You shook your head in wonder as you grinned up at him and his kind and loving chocolate eyes.

“Ready for the grand finale?“ He teased and put both his big hands around your waist.

“Do your worst.“ A smirk graced your lips as you winked at him seductively which made him nearly stumble.

But he caught himself quickly and the next thing you knew, you were up above his head and he twirled you slowly. Your hands were on his shoulders to steady yourself and you smiled down at him as the both of you received some cheers from your friends and classmates. 

All of a sudden glimmers of gold rained down on you, on the whole dance floor, and you laughed in wonder. It was so beautiful and like Charlie perfectly planned it just for you.

Carefully he set you back down on the ground, your body gliding down his closely as if in slow-motion. Your eyes never left his as he held you close, closer than you’ve ever been before. The smile was gone from both your faces and instead there was a kind of electricity sparkling between the both of you.

Charlie’s eyes wandered to your lips and you bit it in anticipation of what might happen next.

And as you hoped Charlie slowly leaned down and captured your lips with his in a sweet but passionate kiss.

Your eyes were shut tightly as you felt his velvety mouth move against yours. Kissing Charlie was absolutely magical and felt like burning. You slipped your hands into his fiery red curls that were bound in a little ponytail like always and you tugged at them softly. A moan escaped Charlie and with one hand he pulled your hips even closer to his and the other rested in your neck caressing the soft skin there.

It was sweet and heated and everything in-between and you never wanted to stop.

After a while you both came up for air and simply stared at each other breathing hardly.

Charlie’s tongue darted out of his mouth and licked over his lips as he grinned at you brightly.

You were sure the same expression could be found on your face.

“Wanna get out of here?“ Charlie whispered breathlessly and cupped your cheek in his calloused hand carefully.

Spending some alone time with Charlie sounded like the best thing in the world like now.

“Lead the way.“ You nodded enthusiastically and Charlie slung his arm around your waist again to steer you away from the crowd, smiling with rosy freckled cheeks.

[whatwashernameagain]

I’m dying to be with you - Chapter 1

Warnings: Hospitals, contemplation of death, hypochondria

Masterpost

____________________________

In Patton’s humble opinion, the threat of an imminent death was no reason to be gloomy! Not as long as there were so many pretty things to enjoy! Summer was on its way and the late spring-flowers in the park surrounding the hospital were in full bloom – light pink columbine with their delicate hats, cheerful little daisies in the grass with which he liked to weave flowery necklaces, tulips with their bright cup-like heads, tiny snowdrop anemones with white petals hiding in the shade of the trees he liked to crawl under when he was unwatched, and all of the lovely wildflowers in the field right next to the park. Bright yellow little bird’s-foot flowers was dancing in the wind there while pink Corncockle flowers were complementing them next to large, cloudy swaths of cow parsley, which looked perfectly white, like foam floating over the fields. There were many more, short and tall and lovely in their own way. Patton found them even prettier than the large, perfectly straight tulips or lilies that were especially bred to be flashy and perfect.

His favorite flower was the Cornflower, which was small and feathery, growing even among many other weeds and still shining so much more brightly and vibrantly than all of them. They were the exact same shade as the eyes of his handsome, serious doctor.

Patton sighed softly as he contemplated the chestnut tree in front of his window. He thought its large, finger-like leaves were especially lush and green today, still wet and fresh after the rain that had showered it this night. Perhaps he could sneak out and shake some leftover raindrops into his hair? The serious doctor would frown upon hearing this idea, he was sure.

As they did so often, his thoughts would stray to the man with the cornflower eyes. Envisioning his tall, straight form, his perfectly groomed raven hair, his severe face that often looked tired, yet made Patton’s hummingbird heart feel stronger, like it had all the power in the world. Especially when he recalled how the doctor’s face warmed when he looked at Patton, how he would roll his lovely eyes at his puns, how his lips would curl in an unintentional smile – yes, everything in his chest was working just fine when he thought about doctor Sanders.

Right on cue, a knock sounded at his door. Three times, perfectly even. Patton lit up impossibly bright, sitting up and ruffling his hair. He had been a little lonely in his room after the sweet old lady had been discharged. She had told him so many stories and shared her wonderful cookie recipe with him. He was excited to go home and try it! It would surely be very soon, Patton was an optimist after all! While he was here though, he might as well enjoy the things he could not get at home.

“Come in!” He called brightly.

I know, Patton thought to his leaping little heart, he really does look especially handsome today.

Doctor Sanders was wearing the navy blue vest under his white coat that his excited patient liked best. It hugged his slim waist just right and made him look so elegant – he always was, with his tie and pressed white shirt and tailored trousers in shades of blue and black. His glasses were a little crooked on his nose though, and he was balancing way too many files in his arms, looking a little overworked already. That would not do! Patton had made it his mission to help him relax and made the dutiful man smile at least once a day. He worked so hard, looking after him was really the least he could do!

Doctor Sanders gave him a curt nod and a quick once over as he entered the room, apparently noticing the state of his hair with worry. “Salutation Mr Fairchild.” He greeted, already looking down at Patton’s file attentively. The bubbly patient huffed.

“Do call me Patton, pretty please!” He argued (again), looking up at the man with his playful, light blue eyes. He knew well how to get his attention after all. And sure enough, he blushed as Patton leaned closer, clasping his hands in front of his chest innocently.

Clearing his throat, he argued halfheartedly, “Such behavior would be unprofessional, I really should not -” He broke off helplessly, as Patton dropped his head in apparent sadness.

“Well, alright – Patton.” He conceded. He always did. This little dance was part of their routine. Pat beamed.

“How are you feeling this morning?” Doctor Sanders asked. He looked down at the thick file in his hands, perhaps to hide his embarrassment?

“Well, actually, I think I might be coming down with something,” Patton mumbled, running a hand over his forehead, into his intentionally messy, silky honey curls. “I feel like I might be running a little hot.” He breathed, leaning closer.

The doctor’s brow furrowed. Infections were common in such conditions and not to be trifled with. Before he could call a nurse to take the patients temperature, his free hand was grabbed in a smaller, softer one. He instantly felt a blush climbed his cheeks.

“Would you have a look, doctor?” Patton asked innocently, pulling the large, elegant hand closer and placing it against his smooth cheek.

He knew he should not trick the kind man like this, but his hands were so warm and felt so nice, he was powerless to resist. Especially because of the way the severe lines around his mouth would always soften when he was with Patton.

Putting his files down, he placed both hands on Patton’s pretty face, one on his cheek, the other on his forehead, feeling his temperature carefully. The patient sighed in pleasure, closing his eyes.  

Frowning, doctor Sanders brushed a thumb over a pale forehead and cradled smooth skin and finely shaped bones. “Your face does indeed feel a little heated, Mr. - Patton.” He conceded.

It did? Must be the pleased blush that was spreading across his freckled nose and cheeks and made his ears redden.

“I should take your temperature in order to monitor your condition properly.” He muttered, already deep in thought and pulling his hands back. That would not do – Patton felt cold and alone the moment he was released and snatched his hands back quickly, to the surprise of the other. He wanted just a little more!

“Actually, I think my lymph nodes might be swollen, could you have a look as well? Pleeeease?” He begged prettily, batting his dark lashes at the taller man. Hiding his smile was hard upon spotting the way the attractive man ducked his head and cast his gaze down for a moment, clearly flustered. He was so adorable when he was awkward! Pat felt like squealing at him. The doctor should be used to Patton’s flirting and his attempts to get close, but he still indulged him every time, no matter how silly his reasons were. It gave the smaller man hope.

He was well aware of how silly his infatuation with this man was, of course. The doctor was – he was – amazing! Not only was he handsome in a classical way, with the pale skin of his aristocratic face contrasting so well with tidy, raven hair and with the way his tailored suit and vests complimented his trim waist and long legs. He was also the most intelligent and sweet man Patton had ever met! The first one came as a surprise to no one, of course. The clinic prided itself on the experts it employed, and doctor Sanders was one of their most prestigious employees. However, he seemed to appear rather arrogant and unfeeling to some patients Patton had talked to. Some had even called him cold. Ridiculous! How could they not see the way he went above and beyond for all of his patients, how he treated even the janitors who cleaned the hallways during the night with the same respect as the most esteemed colleague? How he was so attentive to Pat’s favorite nurse’s feelings and insecurities, how he was so kind to Roman and took him seriously when no one else would, no matter how loud and obnoxious he was being? And how he carefully picked every word he spoke to Patton, how he listened to all of his stories and worries alike and indulged him as much as he possibly could, no matter how silly he was being? Even now, he was nothing but lenient and adorable with him in his response!

“A-alright. It would not be prudent to neglect your worries.” He conceded. Patton beamed at him. Yes. This man was anything but cold. He was gentle and protective and perhaps even a little shy.

He was unashamed in showing his pleasure as the professional hands returned to his face, tilting his chin up this time and allowing gentle fingertips to press along the underside of his jaw. The former counselor shivered slightly at the intimate touch and closed his eyes once again in order to savor the sensation. Warmth flooded his body.

“Curious – your Submental and Submandibular nodes appear to be functioning normally.” The dark haired man mumbled, unintentionally allowing his patient to enjoy the deep baritone of his voice.

Oh! A happy thrill shot through Patton as he made a new discovery. The doctor had callouses across the index and middle finger, perhaps from writing so much with this fancy, dark fountain pen in his chest-pocket? He spotted new and interesting details every day! Patton felt lucky to be in the position he was in, felt like he could spend the rest of his life exploring this man – not only the long, elegant lines of his body, but also his little quirks, his reactions, the things he liked or that made him frown.

A sigh escaped him, as the cautious touch brushed along his jaw to his ears, where careful thumbs pressed down over the sensitive skin behind them, while large hands cupped his neck in a warm grip, keeping him still – as if he would want to be anywhere else in the world right now. He relaxed further as the man’s fingertips brushed the downy, curling hair at the back of his neck.

“The Retroauricular ones appear unaffected as well.” The doctor muttered, sounding less concerned and more exasperated.

Though his patient’s little white-lie must have become fairly obvious by now, he allowed his hands to slip further down, cupping the slender throat and feeling for swelling along the sides of Patton’s sensitive neck where his heart made his pulse thunder excitedly under thin skin. A shiver that must have been apparent to the attentive man ghosted over Patton’s skin, making him feel alive and naughty.

He grinned brightly up at the taller man as he was released, cheerfully chirping “Thank you so much, doctor! I feel so much better already – your treatment is hands down the best!”

The attractive medic scowled at him mildly but appeared to forgive his antics. Pat did not mind how obvious his flirting was, he had no time to waste to let the other known how he felt! When every day could be your last, you learned what mattered to you. And he liked being playful.

Just as the older man prepared to undoubtedly list all of the additional, boring precautions he would have to take, the door to his room was flung open dramatically, letting in a metaphorical gust of fresh, rainbow-colored air.  

“Out of the way, peasants - this is an emergency!” The muffled voice of Patton’s favorite friend rang through the room. Roman’s tall form looked dashing in his magenta jacket and white shirt, whose low neckline exposed the tan skin over his collarbones and clung to his well defined upper body. His caramel hair fell in artfully tousled waves and his green eyes shone with passion. Half of his handsome face was also covered in his customary surgical mask.

“Thank the fairy godmother you are here, doctor Sanders! My condition is quite serious, you must have a look immediately!” He cried, flinging his designer bag on the chair next to the door and pulling his jacket off to uncover delightfully defined arms. His striking eyes showed pretty laugh lines at the corners as his covered lips pulled into a pleased smile upon spotting his friend.

“Patton, my doe – I am so glad I get to see you in my hour of despair! How are you, darling?” He hesitated in the process of dropping his expensive jacket onto the empty bed. “Are those sheets washed? Who was here before? Where they infectious?!” His voice grew higher in the end, as he shuffled away from the bed as if it would attack him with its diseased folds of unassuming, white fabric.

Patton beamed so hard, his cheeks hurt. “It’s fine, Ro! Just a lovely old lady with a broken hip, she was really sweet! Now come on over and give good old Patton a hug! I’ll make it better!”

Roman huffed tragically. “Not even your hugs can make me feel better, fair Patton! The situation is truly quite hopeless, I’m afraid! WHY are you just standing there, fix me!” He cried at the unfortunate doctor, waving his rubber glove encased hands at himself. He still hurried over to Patton after voicing his complaints though. What sort of man would turn down the most loving embrace on the planet in his final hours?

The lovely little patient immediately wrestled himself free from the covers and wrapped himself around the distraught author. Poor Roman curled into his arms, burrowing in. Patton ran his soft hands through lush curls and hummed tenderly, rubbing his smooth cheek against his friend’s perfect cheekbones. He giggled slightly as he considered how lucky he was to be surrounded by such handsome men! His friend did not have it easy though. His hypochondria made him see danger and illness at every turn and made him fear every little change in his body – he was quite the regular at the hospital. Thankfully since his first, anonymously published book had become such a huge success, he could afford to donate to the hospital and get all the special attention he wanted. Patton suspected his own preferential treatment might have to do with that as well, even though he could not prove it. His friend really was too good to him! He was so proud of Roman for how caring he was and how hard he worked on himself! His condition used to be so much worse, confining him to his sterile flat and leaving him frightened and stressed. All of that therapy had really paid off. Sometimes, Patton suspected he might have additional reasons for coming to the hospital so often. He pressed a kiss to all of that silky, well-groomed hair, just because his friend deserved more kisses and made him feel so protected and safe in his strong arms. Roman always made him feel like only sunshine and happiness existed in his arms.

A cough made them finally pull apart.

“Would you describe the symptoms, Mr. Prince?” Doctor Sanders requested stiffly. He had pulled a file out of his pile that was even larger than Patton’s. It sported a glittery rainbow sticker Roman had stuck on it defiantly a while ago, claiming its drab exterior was an insult to his fabulous nature. Its edge was scratched off before somebody had apparently given up on removing it.

“Ugh, finally! What do I have to do to get some attention here?! I am suffering dreadfully!” Roman cried. Ticking things off on his fingers, he laid out his theories after showing the reddish discoloration on his forearm. “I am sure it is either the Chickenpox, kidney failure or Leukemia. I am too attractive to die, you must do something!”

The serious doctor took a deep breath, internally counting to ten. “I believe I have advised you repeatedly not to enter your symptoms into online search engines. Their results have proven to be unreliable at best.” He chastised as he pulled on rubber gloves in deference to his patient’s fear of infection and grasped the distraught patient’s arm in order to examine it, just as the door was flung open again.

“It’s a xerosis.” A deep, scathing voice growled darkly. The man who had grumpily voiced his opinion was younger than all of them with his 21 years, and looked very annoyed indeed. Despite the dark circles under his eyes and his fierce glare, he was strikingly pretty with his purple hair, moonlight fair skin, fine-boned limbs and onyx eyes. Roman appeared to think so too, judging by the dreamy sigh that escaped him as his gaze traveled across the thin form. Until he remembered the rude remark thrown at him in such an unqualified manner!

“It is not!” He cried, deeply offended. “I am taking exceptional care of my skin, thank you very much!”

“You bathe too much in your fucking milk and rose-petal filled golden bathtub or something. Why are you still listening to this idiot?” The young nurse growled at the older doctor, crossing his arms over his purple scrubs. Their color was slightly mismatched to the darker shade of his hair. Nothing about the girly shade made him look feeble or soft though.

“Who made you a doctor?! Last time I checked, you were a naive little nurse whose job it is to see to my needs!” Roman exclaimed, flailing his arms grandly and nearly hitting his unsuspecting doctor.

“I don’t need to be one to know you are full of shit, prince prissy!” The young man growled.

Roman gasped, clasping a hand over his chest dramatically. “Prissy?! I bear the cruelest of fate like the brave prince I am, without complaint -”

Patton had started giggling helplessly, apparently reminding the author of the fact that he was currently in the process of complaining. Roman spluttered and chose to take a different approach to this rude little troublemaker.

“Just - be quiet and look pretty!” He ordered, turning up his nose at him.

The nurse groaned in exasperation. “It’s a xerosis. You are not.dying.” He emphasized, stalking closer on light soles like a graceful, grumpy cat.

“It is not and yes I am!” Roman wailed, growing even louder as the doctor finally managed to secure his flailing arm.

“Actually, nurse River’s assessment is very much feasible.” He uttered.

The nurse smirked infuriatingly as Roman deflated, before the dramatic man puffed up all of his metaphorical feathers like an angry, tiny bird, getting ready to chirp and protest. Doctor Sanders cut off the commotion before it could begin.

“Nevertheless, I shall run some test, to ensure your optimal health.”

“What – Seriously?!” The lithe nurse exclaimed, clearly exasperated. Roman obnoxiously preened at him.

Well used to the chemistry that made those two fight like cats and dogs, Patton chose to ignore their argument in order to greet his dearest nurse. He held his arms open and made grabby hands at the purple haired man with a pleading expression. “Don’t I get a hug, kiddo?” He asked, making sure to look extra pitiful.

Virgil sighed in exasperation. He could not believe how Patton’s large, innocent eyes had everyone wrapped around his little finger, including himself. He was usually insecure about physical contact with most people, but he could never resist those cuddles. They were so soft and safe. Stepping around the screeching idiot, he tentatively brought his arms up, only to be pulled against the smaller man and get squished in an adorning embrace.

Patton made sure to run his fingers through the perpetually tangled locks of his younger friend as he felt him melt in his embrace. It made warmth and love uncurl inside of him and made his little heart beat protectively against the thin chest pressed close. It had taken a long time to make the skittish nurse trust him enough to get so close, so he appreciated the shy hug even more. Virgil River reminded him of a stray cat – hissing and shy and defensive, until you managed to gain their trust. His affection was made all the more dear to Patton by being earned with so much coaxing and patience.

“I’m so happy to see you, kiddo! Are you sleeping enough? You look tired!” He mumbled into soft, purple locks. His roots were growing out – he spotted raven hair.

Trying to cheer him up, and perhaps get a smile out of the serious doctor, he perched his chin on the slender shoulder and joked, “Hey kiddo, when a hospital runs out of maternity nurses, do they have a mid-wife crisis?”

He started giggling at his joke even before he was done, letting his young friend feel the soft vibrations of his happiness. A startled laugh escaped the nurse before he clasped a hand over his mouth as if he should not be caught laughing. Patton allowed him to hide his face in his neck, cuddling closer. Roman chuckled behind them, whereas doctor Sanders looked bewildered by their hilarity. He appeared to require a moment to sort out the reason for their amusement. A groan showed his dawning understanding.

“Am I correct to assume the humorist value of your question is derived from the phonetic similarities between the words ‘mid-wife’ and mid-life’? How … entertaining.” The doctor uttered monotonously. He repeatedly, vehemently claimed not to enjoy Patton’s jokes, yet a little smile made his lips curl. Patton melted at the sight, sinking further against the curves and angles of Virgil’s body.

He wished he could bake some muffins for the poor baby as he ran his hands over his back in a soothing motion. He was so thin under his hands, Patton would feel the nobs of his spine! Despite their rivalry, he was sure Roman would love to take Virgil out to dinner every night and feed him and spoil him properly with gifts and compliments. The gentle giant just did not know what to do with his feelings and thus behaved in a less than calm fashion. Poor thing, so awkward, despite all of his charm. The thought made him smile softly at the author over a slender shoulder. He looked quite lovesick.

The flamboyant man’s feelings were a badly kept secret since he liked to rant a lot about the unnamed, pretty nurse with the insufferable temper and stunning eyes on his YouTube channel. He did not actually need to maintain it. His novels were applauded by fans and critics for their poetic beauty, their subtle metaphors, their loving descriptions of magical scenery and their heartbreaking and creative plots. Since Roman liked the aura of mystery surrounding him, he kept his name a secret. However, he had never been able to do well without attention. In the years he had mostly spent confined in his flat, reduced to experiencing adventures in the safety of his mind, he had not only written, but also built quite an impressive fan-base for himself online.

His videos were… not like his books, but rather loud, boisterous and shrill, with lots of glitter and sound-effects, make-up tips and gossip and storytelling, as well as loud and high pitched complaining. Though Virgil found them irritating, Patton adored them. Knowing both sides of the man helped him appreciate his emotional depth. He wondered why his friend had never told the nurse about his books. They were so sensitive and thoughtful, he was sure Virgil would fall hard for this side of the author. Perhaps he was shy of the way his writing exposed him to the world? He had once explained how his words laid him bare, how they made him vulnerable and left him unable to hide behind his make-up and groomed curls. Maybe he feared Virgil would not like his real character? It was such a sad, yet adorable idea. Patton wanted to hug him now – he wanted to pull both of them into a hug at the same time and hold them close, preferably with doctor Sanders wrapping his arms around all of them, safe and sound and together. What a wonderful idea! The quiet man made him feel so secure with his solid presence, he was so steady and calm and so careful with Patton, like a rock in the stormy ocean.

He pouted as his kiddo extracted himself from him finally, blushing hotly and glaring at Roman to discourage him from commenting. The older man looked like he was itching to take a picture, but feared for the safety of his manicured hands. Virgil was not only as cautious as a stray cat, he had the temper and sharp teeth to match. His fire and fierceness made him even more irresistible to the gentle artist. They were so utterly different, like all of the couples who overcame the greatest odds in this love stories he had adored as a child. How he yearned to tame his fearsome moods and seduce him into his strong arms. Their love would burn brighter than the stars themselves!

“You need anything, Pat?” The nurse mumbled quietly, hunching his shoulders in embarrassment at how obviously he had liked the cuddling. He was not usually this spunky, but despite his hair rather liked to blend into the background if he could get away with it. The insufferable hypochondriac just brought out the worst in him, he could not help the way his blood boiled when those green eyes settled on him.

“Awww you take such good care of me, kiddo!” The former counselor exclaimed sweetly. “It’s all good, I am as happy as a duck in the park!”

Virgil started to correct him but thought better of it. The confused frown on the doctor’s face entertained the nurse far too much. The poor man would certainly try to look up this figure of speech later that day to add this one to his vocab cards. He tried so hard. The moron.

“Okay, whatever.” He murmured softly, before turning to leave. He had patients to see to after all. Patients with real illnesses. He made sure to direct a fierce glare at the insufferable idiot. He hated him even more for the way he had to tilt up his chin – did he have to be so tall?! And handsome? His broad shoulders and defined arms made his character even more annoying for forcing Virgil to look. He snarled at the man for good measure. His warning did not seem to have the desired effect though. After taking a startled step back, the annoying attention-seeker crossed his arms and pouted visibly, even through the surgical mask.

“What about me?! Are you just going to leave me here, unattended and neglected?!” He wailed, hunching his shoulders like a child. Virgil hated him so much, he could not help the fire licking his insides hotly whenever the irritating man so much as opened his mouth. He made his body heat with an angry passion he had never known before. He yearned to get his hands on him to wring his tan neck. Especially when his hair fell into his eyes in soft curls, making him so obnoxiously attractive. Unable to help himself, he lashed out.

“Yes – whenever you enter a room I cannot wait to leave it, prince prig. You are the bane of my existence!” Virgil snarled, dark eyes flashing. He stuttered to a halt as the taller man’s eyes widened and became bright. Horror spread through him – had he actually injured the moron’s feelings?! He had thought he did not actually listen to anything he said anyway, he was just a little nurse after all. People forgot him the moment he left a room. He could not handle crying people, they were his biggest weakness. Guilt twisted his insides sharply, making his stomach turn. He had not meant -

“Fine! I don’t need your gloomy presence darkening the brightness of my magnificent character with your – your nasty, depressing, frustratingly pretty face! Leave this humble abode and let me shine my light on my fair Patton in peace, you soul-sucking villain!” He cried, turning his face away and swiping his arm at him as if he were a nasty fly. His jaw was tense under the mask. Virgil felt like his insides were twisting painfully. The dramatic idiot was always so loud and boisterous and over the top, it put him on edge like nails on a chalkboard. It made him forget that he had actual feelings under that ridiculous facade. In his annoyance, he had never considered he could actually hurt him. Twisting his scrubs in nervous, pale hands, he anxiously tried to find a way to make it better.

“Ahm, o-okay. I’ll – I can leave. Just – do you need anything, like – can I bring you anything? A pillow or - whatever?” He muttered. Even as he spoke, his face started heating. He wished the earth would swallow him whole! The theater nerd was always so eloquent, so educated and confident with the way his deep voice and large presence filled any room he stepped into, and here he was, bumbling and stuttering through his sentences. He felt very small and very insignificant. A pillow?! He was the biggest idiot – he knew he would be revisiting this scene in his mind over and over tonight, hiding under his blanket. Unconsciously, he started twisting his purple bangs in his slender fingers, curling them away from his face as if he were starting an elaborate braid. It was a nervous habit that gave him comfort – comfort he needed badly in his guilty state.

Roman’s face lit up though. A tenderness washed over his chiseled, half hidden features. His eyes were so warm suddenly. It felt like a punch to the gut to realize the other had already forgiven him. Ashamed of his temper he just could not seem to control, Virgil cast his eyes down, hugging himself. He could already feel his defensive, insecure anger build up and tried hard to suppress it. He could not fight in front of Patton, it would upset him!

Roman made it easy for him though. “A pillow would be lovely and surely ease my acute suffering.” He promised kindly, putting Virgil at ease by giving him some simple way to make up for his temper. It was awfully nice of him.

Apparently, he could not seem to help himself though.

“It will need to be disinfected cotton though, and not only the cover! Hospitals are breeding grounds for deadly diseased, I don’t know how you can stand the vile danger! Did you wash your hands before you touched Patton? I will not contract second-hand infections through your tardiness!”

Virgil growled, baring his teeth at the insufferable man. This – the familiar heat flooding him – was much easier for him to handle. He stormed outside, vowing to find a pillow he could wrack the man with. Preferably when he had forgotten about his request and he could sneak up on him. The thought of his startled yelping filled him with vicious pleasure.  

Doctor Sanders stood in the center of the room for a long moment, looking lost, before he cleared his throat and inched towards the door. “I shall arrange a number of tests for you, Mr Prince. Mr F- Patton, if you would excuse me.”

Patton waved cheerfully at him, gigging at his adorable awkwardness. Then, he turned to his friend to help make him more comfortable like he always did. He was trained for it after all!

“Princey, why don’t you show me those cool nails, I’d love to see the new color!” He exclaimed, pointing to the shadow of nail-polish he could spot through the rubber gloves. Roman lightened up, climbing on the bed with his friend and pulling his gloves off, happy to finally have someone to share the things he enjoyed with. His eagerness to talk about something he loved helped him forget his fear.

“You have an excellent eye for beauty, Patton-mine! This divine shade of red is called ‘drop the gown’ and perfectly compliments the light reflexes of my luxurious hair in the sunlight, don’t you think?” He gushed, enjoying the soft hands on his skin, cupping his larger hands. He missed human contact whenever he was not with Patton.

“It does!” His faithful friend cooed, beaming at him. Roman melted. Patton always made him feel like everything would be okay. He felt like the other understood him, from his fears to his creative mind, which had entertained him in his lonely days. Both of them liked stories with a happy ending after all!

“Now stop holding out on me!” The author cried, flopping down next to his friend, putting them close together on the narrow bed. “What did I miss? Did Mrs Nesbitt’s triplets get another allergy? And did she finally ask that cute Immunologist out? Susan, right? They are simply meant to be!”  

Patton was all too happy to fill him in on the gossip the nurses always shared with him when they drank tea with him. He leaned close to his taller friend, growing soft and pliant as he was pulled close. He loved curling against Roman’s chest! It was so broad and comfortable! They were quite similar, the two of them. Though their temper hardly matched, both had been unable to keep up with the quickly revolving worlds of the other children, Patton because he had been cautioned not to play their quick and exhausting games, and Roman because his mother had feared the common cold and a scrapped knee about as much as Pat’s mother had feared the failure of his little heart. Both had been forced to watch from afar. It had made Roman start writing down the adventures he wished he could have, which was utterly perfect, because Patton loved stores!

He made sure to share all of the juicy tidbits with his beloved friend, finally ending up on his side facing the large window with the glittering raindrops on lush leaves. Roman had settled in behind him, his large body and strong arms enveloping Patton and keeping him protected from the world. There was no feeling quite like being the little spoon. It was so safe and sheltered, with warmth surrounding him and affection and tender hands playing with his fingers making him drowsy. Roman’s hands were tan, due to his Mexican ancestors somewhere down the line. He had inherited the green eyes and caramel hair from his mother, creating a striking picture. He also worked out a lot at his flat, to get rid of all of that nervous energy. A young man like him should not be cooped up inside all day! Still, Patton liked the way he was built a lot because Roman could pick him up or carry him piggy-back style tirelessly.

When feeling safe and loved and content, he liked to make plans about what he could look forward to when he was finally out of the hospital, healed and strong and able to do all of the things he had only ever dreamed about! Of course, he shared those plans with his best friend.

“I would love to adopt a puppy! I would name it Mr or Mrs Floofer and we would play outside all day! Oh – and I want to go dancing when I get out of here! Would you teach me?” He gushed excitedly. “I’ve only ever danced around the flat for myself. Then I could go dancing in the rain. Just imagine the sunshine peeking through the clouds and painting rainbows onto the drops crowning doctor Sanders’ dark hair. He would blush adorably, but still hold me close so carefully – I want to make him smile, Roman! I want to twirl around with him and jump in puddles until he laughs. I’ve never heard his laugh.” He mumbled contemplatively, his lips curling with the idea, his chest feeling tight with longing. He wanted good things for the strict, quiet man. He wanted to be the cause of those things. He wanted.

“You really care for him, don’t you? It sounds like he is your awkward knight in white lab-coat.” Roman teased.

“He is! He really is.” Patton trailed off, picturing the warm gaze, the gentle hands. “He makes me feel so much, makes my heart beat so hard, like wings beating inside my chest. It feels so strong when he touches me, like I could take flight. He makes me feel so light.”

Roman hummed softly, dreamily, and nuzzled his face into honey-colored locks. Gathering his courage, he pulled his mask off to get closer and breathe his friend in.

“What else are you going to do?” He asked softly, reveling in the way Patton squealed as he heard his unmuffled voice. It made it worth the danger to his young and precious life.

“I’ll take you all to an amusement park! I want to try all the rides I could never go to!”

“An amusement park?” Roman lamented, already missing his mask again at the mere thought. “Where all the people are, trapped like rats in queues, touching everything and coughing on each other?!”

“Yes!” Patton giggled. “I want to look at all the lights and at the Disney castles and take pictures with you and the figures and hug all of the princesses! I want to buy cotton candy for Virgil!”

“Virgil would be coming?” Roman asked in a small, cautious voice.

“Of course! I’m sure he would go on all of the rides with me and to the water parks! And doctor Sanders would come, and he would hold my hand on top of a Ferris wheel. We would go at night, with the lights of the park beneath us and the stars above.”

Patton trailed off, lost in the image of the man he adored cradling his face – not to check the temperature but to lean in – and kiss him. He laughed at himself, knowing how naive and stupid he was being. What a silly fantasy. He had not even been told his first-name.

Roman held back a sad sigh. His heart felt heavy. Patton had so many plans, and he included all of them so lovingly. There was so much he had not done yet. His yearning to fulfill his wishes felt like a physical ache in his chest. His eyes burned.

“Can I ask you something?” Patton innocently interrupted his heavy thoughts.

“Of course, my sweetest friend! I cannot begrudge you the curiosity since I am truly fascinating!” Patton laughed adorably, blushing slightly at the nickname that made him giddy and happy.

“What do you feel when you see Virgil?” He finally asked, quieting to hear the answer.

Roman was silent for a long moment, bringing up a hand to play with his friend’s lightly curling hair, picturing the thin, pale face, the dark eyes – so quick and intelligent, weary and protective, the way he moved so gracefully, the way his half-smile transformed his whole face, like a sunrise that made the world look completely different with its warm, peach and orange light. Patton felt his heartbeat pick up where his back was pressed against the writer’s broad chest, beating strong and passionate. After a long moment, Roman spoke quietly, almost reverently.

“Like there should be music. Like violins should play for him when he moves. A sweet melody should rise and fall with his twists and turns through the room. He is so graceful when he walks, so light on his feet, as if he was dancing to the song only I can hear. So smart and brave and vulnerable and fierce. It’s like drums should make the air vibrate when he smiles, trumpets, drum-rolls and a choir singing for him, serenading him. And a quite piano in the background. Like there should not be silence, like he is too much – he makes me feel too much, makes my breath catch and my mouth dry and makes me want to sing. That is how I feel when I see him. Like there ought to be music.”

His deep voice trailed off, growing soft at the end. He was lost in thought. The gentle artist knew how he must sounds. Like an infatuated idiot, who had fallen for a pretty face and fancied himself in love with a man years his junior who he did not even know. He knew his feelings were foolish. And yet, the first time he had laid eyes on the fierce nurse, his fate had been sealed.

*

He had always known Patton was in danger. That he might lose him. He had tried to prepare himself for the possibility, had read up on his condition and tried his best to learn how to aid him, should his heart fail him. He would be his gallant protector, his brave, selfless guard! Many times he had envisioned the moment he would have to step in to save the courageous little life he was cradling in his arms at this very second, how he would push down on his chest to give him life, how he would gather him in his arms, how he would carry him to safety and win him the necessary time to find a heart for him. He had never truly allowed himself to believe in the possibility of failure. Until he had failed.

He had come to visit his small friend at this very institution, bringing flowers and his radiantly handsome self like the gentleman he was, braving disease and danger with nary a complaint.

An old couple had waited to be acknowledged by the receptionist, the lady leaning on her dark-skinned husband and lovingly whispering in his ear. Her hair had been pulled back in a strict bun with a tiny bird clip sitting in the middle, making it look like an actual nest. They had been so utterly precious, Roman had yearned to write about them. He had just approached them to offer them his place in the queue, when the man had suddenly doubled over, clutching his chest. His breath had been coming in short, wheezing gasps, his face reddening, his hands shaking. His frail wife had stumbled, threatening to fall without the support of her husband.

The flowers had been crushed under his heavy soles as he had lunged forward to catch the woman. Her husband had dropped to the floor like a dead weight. He had never been able to forget the sounds. His wheezing breaths, his body hitting the sterile floor, her terrified, desperate screams.

It was a scene he had practiced in his mind over and over again. He knew what to do. Knew all the motions by heart. Until he didn’t. His mind had been utterly blank. He had stood, uselessly, while the man had been dying at his feet.

He had only remembered one thought during the ensuing chaos. It could have been Patton. Patton, writhing in pain. Patton, helpless on the floor. Patton, dying right in front of him. Patton, failed by the man that loved him like a brother. His condition had become suddenly, terribly real.

Everything had changed in one, beautiful, inspiring moment.

“Move!” A dark voice had barked, pushing past other incompetent bystanders and falling to his knees in front of the man. His hands had been utterly sure of everything he had done, his voice loud and clear, giving commands and creating order. He had been fearless and strong like the knights Roman liked to fantasize about. His armor had been spun from purple thread, his shield created by his fierce glare, his sword his unfailing knowledge and confidence. He had dragged this sweet old man back from the brink of death with his sheer tenaciousness. His look had shown that he would not accept any other outcome. Roman had never seen anything like it. And he knew, the nurse had not only saved his patient.

Had this man actually died before his very eyes, Roman knew he would have given up hope. The cruel demonstration of the end that awaited his ray of sunshine would have broken the sensitive artist’s belief into jagged, sharp edges, leaving him desperately trying to salvage enough strength to put on a show of confidence Patton would see right through. Virgil had saved him. Saved his belief that things would turn out well, that heroes existed. He was Roman’s hero.

*

Patton was in awe as he listened. A slow, delighted smile dawned on his face. Roman’s words were so beautiful! It was so different from the way he felt for the doctor, who made him feel warm and safe and strong and weak at the same time, and wanting. So much more alive than he had been in such a long time – perhaps he made him feel alive for the first time. Yet it sounded utterly perfect for them.

“That is so pretty! You should orchestra a meeting and tell him. I am sure you’ll catch the right tune! And say Cello from me!” He giggled uncontrollably at his own puns, laughing until his sides hurt and his hummingbird-heart protested. Roman laughed with him but kept a wary eye on the monitor.

“I’ll be sure not to fail to tell him about his many merits in the most poetic language, fret not my lovely friend!” He boasted, tickling Patton with his warm breath at his neck and making him grin and squirm. “However, first I shall take you to a place that is much more magical than a dull amusement park, and that poses much fewer risks of infection, accidents and a gruesome death!”

Pat turned halfway in his embrace, eyes glittering. “And what would that place be?”

“The magical adventure park of the intergalactic kingdom of the fair stardust elves!” He exclaimed. Patton had always adored his stories. They were what had brought them so close, since both of them had had to rely on their fantasy as they had grown up. With a happy sigh, Patton settled in to hear Roman’s colorfully spun tail. It was like he was actually there, as the deep voice whispered in his ear and warm, golden sunlight bathed the bed they were curled up on. Patton closed his eyes and dreamed.

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

Next Chapter

[haltandcatchfiretothemax]

Headcanon that in fall of 1997, Cameron Howe researches Halloween while she should be doing work

[CN: deceased loved ones/spoilers; food/candy/eating mention; reference to sex]

She's supposed to be expanding her ideas for Phoenix, a project she's been anxiously looking forward to for several years, only to find herself aggressively procrastinating instead of working on it

It's October -- already uncomfortable because it means the winter holidays and all their emotional difficulties are fast approaching -- and no matter what she does, she can't seem to escape Halloween. When she turns on the television, Halloween-themed cartoons and Buffy the Vampire Slayer are on. Every store she goes to is stocked with Halloween candy, decorations, and costumes. When she tries to go for a walk, most of the houses have faux cobwebs in their front yards, and cardboard witches, black cats, and bats hung on their doors. Some houses have fake tombstones in their yards, which always make Cameron shudder.

Unable to make herself focus on work, Cameron ends up watching tv, and while flipping through channels, she lands on the history channel, catches the second half of a Salem witch trials documentary, and then watches a documentary about the history of Halloween.

She sits there on the couch with a box of licorice and tries to remember if she ever liked Halloween. She can't remember seeing her dad in a costume, but she knows he took her trick-or-treating at least twice: once when she was very small (she wore a pumpkin costume made by her grandmother), and then there was the year she dressed as a black cat, and her mother surprised her by also putting on cat ears and drawing whiskers on her face, and going from house to house with them. Her mother, once a dutifully observant if irreverent Louisianan Catholic, also made them go to church on All Saints' Day. They stopped going to church after her father was killed. They stopped doing a lot of things after that. Every holiday, no matter how informal, seemed like some kind of archaic rite she'd heard about in a history class.

The documentary explains that Halloween is about the end of the harvest season, and fear of the coming cold and dark, the cycle of life and death, and increased proximity to the spirit realm. It also claims that the first American ghost stories were about returned Civil War soldiers. Tears in her eyes, Cameron realizes that Halloween is about grief.

The following morning, Cameron goes to the library, where she's less bothered by all the cobwebs, bats, and cauldrons. A patient middle aged librarian in horn-rimmed glasses helps her find books that verify much of what the documentary said. Instead of going home afterwards, Cameron goes to a local craft supply store.

When Donna gets home the following day, she doesn't recognize her house. There are three tombstones in her front yard, black crepe is strewn across the front of the house like Christmas lights, and an ugly crown of thorns-looking wreath made of straw and birch is hung on the door. She goes inside, and calls out, "Cameron…? You're not being held hostage by Martha Stewart, are you?"

She goes up the stairs, and sees a skull-shaped vase of purple-black tulips on the dining room table. Then she notices the trio of ceramic werewolves, heads thrown back in a group howl, sitting on the living room coffee table. There's a large, black decal of a witch on her broomstick on the glass door that leads out to the pool. She goes up to the kitchen, where Cameron is standing at the island, upon which she's has arranged a set of small pumpkins. Utterly bewildered, Donna asks, "…are those decorative gourds?" Cameron calmly says, "Yes, they're meant to evoke the jack-o'-lantern, which was, according to a folktale, a hollowed out turnip that the ghost of a drunken thief who couldn't get into heaven but couldn't go to hell used to light his way."

When Donna has no response to this, Cameron says, "So, what do you think?" Still baffled, Donna says, "I think the skull with the flowers is looking a little Don King." Cameron squints unhappily at her, so Donna quickly says, "I think that someone is trying to put off her work." "No," Cameron insists, "it's part of it." For the next hour, Cameron explains the documentary while she bakes meatballs, cooks spaghetti, and tosses salad for their dinner. Donna sips sparkling water, and after Cameron tells her about being dressed as a pumpkin, Donna calls her Cam-o'-lantern.

That night, after they go to bed, they're still talking about Phoenix, ghost stories, and gourds, and Donna says, "What about the decorations outside? I thought you didn't like the fake headstones." Cameron frowns, "I don't, but we have real headstones, whether we want them or not, right? My dad, Gordon, Ryan and everyone and everything else we lost along the way." "Right," Donna says quietly, putting an arm around Cameron.

Two days later, after finally making some progress with some design ideas for Phoenix, Cameron surprises Donna, who's working late, by bringing a box of decorations to her office. When she gets there, Donna is sitting on her couch, looking over a proposal. She looks up and says, "Aw, you don't have to do all of that…."

Cameron says, "I know, but I wanted to." She starts with a clear vase of fresh, blood red roses for the coffee table in front of Donna's couch. She hangs an expensive-looking broom on Donna's door, and she places a ceramic family of two black cats and their two black kittens on Donna's desk. She tapes a pointy black witch hat to the top of the computer's monitor, and finally, she puts a tiny pile of stones next to the vase of roses.

Exhausted from a week of figuring out how to use holiday decorations to express her grief, she then sits down next to Donna, and rests her head on her shoulder. Donna puts her hand on Cameron's knee and asks, "What's with the rock pile?" Cameron says, "It's a cairn. For everything you lost, all the sacrifices you had to make to become a computer witch."

Donna looks thoughtfully at the cairn for a moment. Then, she looks back at Cameron and melodramatically says, "Witch? I don't have that kind of power. Technopagan is the term." Eyes wide, Cameron sits up, looks at her and says, "Donna if you're trying to seduce me with Buffy quotes, it will work." Donna says, "I feel like we could both use some of that, after this week," before kissing Cameron.

Cameron makes an annual personal event out of putting up and taking down her Halloween/Allhallowtide house decorations. Donna ends up keeping all of the decorations in her office year-round, with the exception of the hat, which finds its way to Donna and Cameron's bedroom and subsequently becomes the subject of many private jokes about possible role play scenarios

[sickficksandmorr]

A is lactose intolerant. B is very excited to go out with A for a milkshake. A is so distracted by B's words, that A forgets that the milkshake isn't actually a lemonade. They go home, B tries to apologize and rub A's stomach. The trick doesn't work and A throws up after all. Feel free to use your OCs or other characters you like 😊

I never knew Rosie was lactose intolerant!!---"Hey Rosie, wanna go for milkshakes? I'm really craving a chocolate one right now and no one else wants to go with me." Aiku appeared in Rosie's room while she was watching anime on her computer."Yeah, sure. I have nothing better to do. I think I'll get a chocolate one as well." Rosie said, pausing the episode. She hadn't properly heard him through her earbuds, and didn't know what a milkshake was, but presumed he was suggesting something she could stomach. She could handle a little bit of milk, but too much made her throw up. "Awesome!" Aiku jumped happily. "Let's go, my treat!""Wait a minute." Rosie turned to look at Aiku. He wasn't hiding his ears or tail. "Are you gonna hide, or do you wanna pretend to be my pet fpr this outing?""I don't really feel like hiding, can you just throw a leash on me?" Aiku asked, almost whining."Sure." Rosue got up from her computer chair and grabbed the leash on her desk. She clipped it on his already existing spike collar, and grabbed her wallet."What are you doing? I said I'd pay." Aiku pouted."I was thinking about smoking on my way up there and I have my ID in this. Just in case anyone questions me. I do look lile I'm 15 after all." Rosie explained."Alright but I get a cigarette too." Aiku huffed."Is that your payment?" Rosie chuckled."Yes." "Alright. Let's go." Rosie clutched his leash in her free hand as she dug around for her pack of cigarettes.They walked outside and Rosie lit one of the cigarettes, handing it to Aiku before lighting one for herself.They walked down to the icecream parlor with Aiku gently leading the way. Not so much it was obvious, but enough that Rosie could keep up.To the wandering eye, it looked like a pet and his owner going out for a walk. Possibly trying to leash train him with how tight Rosie was holding the leash.They made it to the ice cream parlor in 10 minutes and entered.There wasn't a line so they went up to the desk and ordered two chocolate milkshakes, paid for by Aiku.They sat down at a table and drank their milkshakes in silence.When she was almost done, Rosie noticed her stomach was starting to hurt."How much milk is in this?" She asked."Probably a lot, why?" Aiku responded."Shit." Rosie got up and threw the remainder of her shake away."What's wrong?" "I'm lactose intolerant." Rosie sighed. "It was worth is though.""What kind of lactose intolerant?" Aiku asked carefully. "Like does it give you cramps?""It makes me throw up. Come on, let's go home." Rosie grabbed his leash and waited for him to throw awayhis empty cup before leading him back home.They made it home and Rosie unhooked his leash before culing up in a ball on the sofa.Aiku sat beside her and put her head in his lap. He started to rub her stomach. "I'm so sorry I forced you go out for milkshakes. If I had known you were lactose intolerant I wouldn't have forced you to."Aiku sounded like he was on the verge of tears."I never had a milkshake before. It was worth it. I will probably do it again." Rosie winced when her stomach whined loudly."Why did you go with me?" Aiku asked."I didn't know what a milkshake was. Though judging by the name I should have guessed.""You're how old and don't know what a milkshake is?""18. But it's not my fault i was bever exposed to them growing up.""You are unbelievable."Rosie groaned amd moved so her face was pressed into Aiku's thigh. "I really don't feel good.""I'm so sorry." Aiku fretted, rubbing a little harder.Rosie burped lightly. "Oof."Tulip flew into the room. "What's going on?" She asked."I made her get a milkshake." Aiku admitted."He didn't make me, i wanted to." Rosie stated proudly."You're both idiots." Tulip rolled her eyes and moved a trashcan over to where the duo sat. "Was it at least worth the pain?""So worth it." Rosie whispered."Good. As long as you don't regret it." Tulip shrugged and flew into the kitchen.Rosie groaned and pressed her hand over Aiku's. "Press down. Right there."Aiku did what was asked of him and Rosie leaned over the side of the couch to be sick in the trash can. "Why did you tell me to press down if it was going to make you sick?!" Aiku demanded."I wanted it up." Rosie explained, spitting a couple times. She heaved and threw up again.Aiku sighed. "Again, I'm sorry.""Don't worry. It was so worth it. I'll probably do it again." Rosie laughed before throwing up again.

[jcmorrigan]

Tagged!

By @peachymars!

1) Name: Rachel

2) Relationship status: Lord Commander Blackwall Single. I love to daydream and act melodramatic about having no relationship, but I really don’t have the time or energy for one right now. I’m best off single. And acting out my romantic fantasies playing Dragon Age: Inquisition and dancing with Blackwall at the empress’ ball

3) Height: 5'7.5″

4) Orientation: Somewhere on the asexual spectrum. Probably just ace, but there’s a possibility of gray ace or demi. Heteroromantic, but wouldn’t have a crisis if I happened to fall for someone who wasn’t male.

5) Nationality: Mostly German/Irish with a sampling of the rest of Europe in there.

6) Favorite Fruit: Apples are what I eat the most; pineapples are what I eat for treats.

7) Favorite Season: Maybe Summer. Maybe early Fall. NOT WINTER OR SPRING

8) Favorite Flower: I’ve never really thought about this. I wanna say tulips.

9) Favorite Scent: Fresh-cut grass and coffee beans. Not at the same time.

10) Favorite Color: Royal blue. THANKS, MOZENRATH. Though any shade of blue except really dark navy is a friend.

11) Favorite Animal: Cats, maybe? Capybaras are also nice.

12) Coffee, Tea or Hot Chocolate: I guess hot chocolate, but I’ve been trying to cut back on my sugar intake lately - is there a decaf sugar-free tea out there? Does that exist? Can I pick that? Can I pick almond milk instead?

13) Average Sleep Hours: I want 12. This season, I get 8.

14) Dog or Cat Person: Cats.

15) Favorite Fictional Characters: I’m just gonna name my top three mainstays: Mozenrath (Aladdin: The Animated Series), Sora (Kingdom Hearts), and Archibald Snatcher (The Boxtrolls).

16) Number of Blankets I Sleep With: Two.

17) Dream Trip: Disney World round #3

18) Blog Created: Yes I have created a blog

19) Number of Followers: I don’t even know. It’s gotta be half bots. I would block them, but I heard that whole scare about how clicking some follower URLs would redirect you to virus city, so I just let the bots be.

20) Random Fact: I am now at the point where I seriously start coming up with my Halloween costume the day after the previous Halloween. Like, the moment I packed up the candy bowl from the trick-or-treaters last Halloween, I was like, “Y’know what I should be next year? Roman Torchwick.” And I’m going to try and STICK to that one.

I TAG NO ONE YOU’RE ALL FREE