#but it would make him a little sad in that just like. wistful pining over a crush way

[ask-ursa-tonypeter]

[pyrite: tony, pyrite: peter, and maybe also ursa interlude, if you'd like?] How would Tony react if Peter developed a crush on someone else/started dating someone? How would Peter react if Tony kept meeting other people? And also, how would either of them *feel*?

Tony: What, am I supposed to expect him to moon over me forever? Of course he's going to mess around with other people. No doubt he's going to go off to college and find some good girl to marry and have boring sex with and pop out a few brats to carry on the Stark legacy. Poor kid.

-----

Peter: Well-- I mean-- it's not like we're dating, so-- I mean, I know how he is, I'm not expecting… We're just, just, it's casual, so.

…It would probably, um. Bother me a little if he brought someone home again while I was there. But that's, just, like-- I'm just being immature.

#fic: pyrite #pyrite: tony #pyrite: peter #ursa interlude: #tony's side of this is a not-insignificant part of the sequel so 🤐 #on peter's side... he really doesn't expect tony to stop being a playboy for him #he has zero inkling that tony might actually have legit feelings for him so he does accept that they're just screwing around #but it would make him a little sad in that just like. wistful pining over a crush way #and like he said he would be more actively upset over tony actually bringing someone home

[abbatoirablaze]

Welcome To The Dollhouse, Pining After The New Girl

Word Count:  1.1k

Warnings:  some language

“You know…you can talk to the girls,” Reverend Teagartin chuckled as he clapped the sheriff on the back, “they ain’t gonna bite ya…at least, not unless you ask them to, Lee.”

“Fuck off, Teagartin.”

The good reverend chuckled, slapping the ass of one of the girls walking by.  She giggled and looked back, but surprise and a little bit of sadness coated her features when he didn’t come chasing after her.  She continued on and he gave the woman a wistful look before turning back to Lee, “what fun would that be now, Lee?  Got our choice of girls.  Prime real ass-tate right there…and what service would I be doing to that if I just fucked off?  Can’t help  you get your dick wet if I just let you sit here in the corner.   Come on, my treat.”

“Well, you leaving me the hell alone would give me some good, happy feelings in a place where I’m supposed to be relaxed.” Lee grumbled, “you ain’t buyin’ me shit, Teagartin.  Last thing I need is you thinking I owe you one.”

“You’re in a piss poor mood for someone who’s allowed his pick of the litter!”

“Fuck off…I’m trying to relax!”

“You ain’t supposed to be relaxed, Bodecker,” he chuckled, “you’re supposed to be full of energy.  Fuckin’ these little sluts til the cow comes home.  Then…then you can relax when you blow your load down the back of their throat.”

“Awful mouth for a reverend.”

“Reverend’s just my day job, Bodecker…we both know that.” He smirked as he watched another one of the girls passing by, “you gonna find yourself a girl, or am I going to have to play the role of pimp too and get you one, draggin em all over, one by one until you finally say yes?”

“You’re a prick, you know that?” Lee grumbled as he took another dreg from his bottle, “if you’re going to harass me while I’m here, do me a favor and grab me another bottle, yeah?”

“You’re on your own with that one,” he smirked, tapping the table, “think I’ve found the one I’m fucking good tonight.”

“Hey…thought you said you’re covering me for the night.”

“For the pussy,” he chuckled, “get your own fucking drinks!”

“Asshole!”

“On that note…you have yourself a good night, sheriff…that girl’s givin’ me the eyes…and I’m going to go make her praise the lord while I fuck her over every surface of her room!”

With another heavy hit to the table, the reverend was off, going after one of his regular girls.  Lee shook his head, still partially in disbelief that Teagartin had been the one to bring him to the dollhouse originally. 

“Ass…”

“Need another, sir?”

Lee barely heard the sweet little thing as she took his mostly empty, warm bottle.  He wanted to be angry over how she was taking a drink that wasn’t even gone yet, but when he looked at her sweet face, he felt himself all but melting as he pointed up to it.  He sat up a little straighter and tipped his hat at her, “while I wanna thank you kindly, I wasn’t done with that one, sweet pea.”

She giggled. 

Giggled at how he was gesturing to the luke-warm beer.

“Nothing good about a stale, warm beer.  Let me grab ya another one.” She offered, batting her lashes at him, “no harm in that, is there?  Won’t even charge ya!”

Lee couldn’t help but smile at her as she gestured towards the beer once more.  This time he found himself nodding along, “Yeah…sure.  Okay…”

He watched as she picked up the bottle, turned, and started to the bar, discarding the beer behind it and picking up a new one from the cooler.  Her lithe, nimble fingers opened it, and soon enough she was back on her way to him. 

Suddenly, he felt a sense of longing for the girl that he hadn’t recognized.  She gave him another gentle smile as she placed the beer down in front of him, “need anything else, sir?”

“You new here?” A blush rose to her cheeks, and Lee suddenly felt too blunt, “I-I mean…I haven’t seen ya, is all.  And usually most of the girls stay away from me…”

“Don’t know why,” she giggled sweetly, “handsome man like yourself…thought you’d be beating the girls away with a stick.”

He felt his own blush heating up his face now, “You’re awful kind, sweet pea…”

“Guess that’s what I get for being new,” she offered, letting the man know that she was indeed new and not some girl who lost her sponsorship, “still need to learn the ropes…the girls stay away from you for a reason?  You belong to someone important?  Sponsor a girl already?”

“I’m free as a bird, sweet pea.  Nothing tying me down.  But you know, I could show you them ropes if you wanted,” he offered kindly.  He spread his legs and patted his lap, “c’mon…have a seat…I can tell ya all the rules of this place while I sip on my beer.”

She smiled and took a few steps towards him before sitting gently on his lap so that she was across it.  He chuckled and shifted her so that she was seated on his lap and his arms were wrapped loosely around her, “sweet pea, look at me.  I’m a sturdy man.  Ya don’t gotta be gentle with me, darling…I ain’t gonna break.”

“I-I’ve never done this…” she admitted bashfully, looking up at him through thick lashes.

Lee smiled a little bit more then, “you never done this?  Like sat on a man’s lap or-“

“Any of it.” She sighed, with a shake of her head, “I-I don’t know…”

“Does this make you uncomfortable, sweet pea?”

She shook her head once more, “no…I-this-it feels exhilarating if I’m being honest.  Sitting on your lap…you being all sweet to me.  I just…”

“You what?” Lee asked, after a moment. 

“Just…no one’s been this nice to me like this, is all,” she shrugged, “grew up with five brohers….so a man’s never really paid me this kind of attention.”

“You poor little touch-starved thing,” Lee sighed, his arms wrapping a little more protectively around the innocent young woman, “I  think we should fix that, hmm?”

She giggled, yet again, and Lee found the smile on his face unable to quit.

“You’re awfully sweet, sir…”

Call me Lee, sweet pea…” the sheriff smiled as his hand caressed her bare thigh and stopped at the curve of her ass.  He gave it a little squeeze and she giggled again, “stick with me and I’ll take real good care of ya.”

“Okay Lee!” she smiled softly, “so long as you show me them ropes you were talking about.”

“Sweet pea, I’ll show you everything…don’t you worry your pretty little head about nothing.”

#welcome to the dollhouse #1shot #lee bodecker #the devil all the time #sebastian stan character #reverend teagartin

[catboybiologist]

*home on the range starts peacefully and slowly playing on a harmonica. Slow fade in from black to shot. Shot is framed looking at the back of a man with a poncho and wide brimmed cowboy hat. Both are dusty from the road. He is leaning on a post, part of a fence in front of a small wooden building. A voiceover, presumably the cowboys, with a thick, rough, gravelly country accent, begins to speak. His tone is wistful and sentimental*

America. Land of the free. Home of the brave. Where the deer and the antelope play. All of that, and yet so much more... Like my home. My home is out on the plains, down in the valleys, across the rivers, and over the lands of the endless sky. I roam across all of them, basking in my freedom of mind, body, and law. I have no permanent home... Yet if I had to say where home was for me, well, the only thing I could say is just... America.

*As the monologue progresses, the camera slowly zooms in and rotates to reveal the scenery behind him, as well as his face. The man has light stubble, and eyes shaded by his hat. A view of the landscape behind him reveals that he's on a grassland mesa, overlooking a system of canyons.*

And yet... I hear foul thunder on the horizon. The rabble and din of folk who live here, and yet don't seem to appreciate the values that make America our home. Folks who claim to love this great country, yet spit foul poison to corrupt our minds, and these great lands.

*His face now in full focus, the cowboy takes a long draw from his hip flask.*

They're saying wicked things. Things like.... It's useless creampieing a femboy. Twinks can't get pregnant. It doesn't matter where the seminal fluid ends up when it's between two men.

*The cowboy looks disheartened while saying this, and his head gently tilts, casting the shadow of his hat over his face. A single.tear can just barely be seen in his cheek.*

I would like to say it makes me angry, but.... It simply makes me sad. That people would claim to love this great country, and not respect it's values.

Now I've learned a thing or two on the lonely road. I've seen the sunrise from the Rockies, overlooking the plains to the East. I've seen the first snow to dust the pines on the foothills of Montana, and the fading purple of the twilight in the New Mexico desert. The red of the sands in Arizona, the strength of the mighty Columbia river, the windswept plains of a North Texas field. And it changes you. It gives you a little wisdom.

*a twinkle forms in his eye. He takes another deep swig.*

So from one cowboy to another, I pass along this solemn message: keep breeding that Twink. It's not just something you do for yourself, but for your legacy, the ideals of freedom, the twink themselves... And of course, your country.

*as the monologue concludes, a new person enters the frame. He's shorter than the cowboy, with sandy blonde curls down to his shoulders and vibrant hazel eyes, sticking out against his tanned brown face. A slightly smaller cowboy hat adorns his head. His shirt is plaid, tied in the center to reveal a soft yet somewhat toned stomach, leading to the top of a leather belt. It's holding up what used to be well worn jeans, but are now cut off at the thigh to form short shorts, revealing soft thighs and long legs that plunge into calf high leather boots. The two men embrace, and share a passionate kiss. The voiceover continues.*

God bless America.

*The kiss ends. The first cowboy looks at the camera, winks, and pulls his boyfriend off screen. Fade to black.*

#hornyposting #keep breeding that twink #cowboy posting #short story #196 #r196 #r/196 #rule #/r/196 #gay cowboy

[glaivenoct]

if you have any interest, the sandman got a really good adaptation on net/flix and its giving me brain worms of dream noctis and nyx being one of the guards of the dreaming

Sorry it took me so long to answer this ^^; I have so much interest and only wish I had the brain power to match!

I love thinking about Noct in Dream's long coat! For some reason, I like to imagine him with a black turtleneck underneath. idk why but I do!! I'm just picturing him on the throne, one leg crossed and with Carbuncle (the equivalent of Jessamy/Matthew here with sassy lil squeaks lol) perched on his shoulder.

I looooove thinking about Noct often referring to Nyx as "Dear Knight" because Nyx is one of his best. For the longest time it's a very casual/friendly thing, but over time it becomes a much fonder, passionate endearment (Shout out to Jazz for throwing that little detail on an already 20/10 nickname).

Maybe Nyx has been pining and so many others see it except for Noct, who's focused on his work and maintaining the realm of course. Still, Nyx carries out his duties. I can't help thinking too, if Noct were captured in similar fashion to the show, it would devastate his most loyal friends and companions. His most loyal knight.

And upon returning and reuniting with everyone? With Nyx? Talking about the years of his absence -

"I only wish I could've done more," Nyx will say as he sits besides Noctis on the cracked, crumbling steps, staring out at the bleak, withering realm he intends to help rebuild.

And Noctis will look at him slowly, noting the immense regret troubling Nyx's strong features. "You're not to blame for what happened to me. You know that, right?"

"Of course," Nyx will smirk, but it will fade quickly and instead be replaced by something sad and wistful. "You forget, Noct, my purpose as a guard. I am a guard in the night. Of the dreams. If you are the dreaming and are ripped away - what else is there? In the beginning of your absence... it was like I'd lost my sense of purpose."

Noct will look down at his lap, unsure what to make of that unmistakable weight in Nyx's voice. Touched by his words and moved by the sentiment. And deep down he'll know that Nyx is more than a guard to him. He's irreplacable. A comfort and a "friend". He's so glad that Nyx is one of the ones who remained, and he'd love for Nyx to continue remaining at his side.

And then of course gradually along this quest to restore and realm and other things - they will grow closer. and closer. And closerrrr uwu until one fateful night they say Fuck It!! And kiss!!!

Noct over here holding back his feelings while Nyx keeps leaning in closer and closer to him like, "You'd be wise to tread carefully in your advances, Dear Knight..."

But ohhhh is he not pulling from Nyx's frame pressing closer and closer to his, the breath on his face or the hand coming to cup his cheek.

"And why is that?" Nyx will almost whisper it to him, pausing mere inches from his face. "Does the King of Dreams not have dreams of his own? Desires?"

Noct's not stopping him, breathing a little heavier. "It's not in my nature to indulge myself when there's a realm to maintain. Let alone rebuild."

"Then allow me, my king. Tell me your dreams. Your desires. Allow me to indulge you for once."

And then they kiss. Slow and passionately, and for the first time in who knows how long, Noctis confides things in Nyx he has confided in no other.

And yeah!!! This is definitely something I'd love to revisit and try to flesh out a little more. Thanks so much for sharing the idea with me and I'm totally open to hearing more if you still have brain worms! :D

#nyxnoct #nyxnoct asks #i'm definitely going to have to rewatch this show now

[neozoid]

Peril comes out

Peril's wingtips touched Clay's as they silently soared through the soft gray rain.

Half an hour ago, she had asked him if he would take just one moment to fly with her. After everything that had happened, with Jade Mountain Academy under threat and those little rapscallions - Moon, Turtle, Kinkajou, Anemone, Qibli, and Winter - had all managed to save it. The past week... no, weeks? She had lost track of time. But they had been a blur - a blur of emotions, of frustration, of painful, deep searing guilt, Darkstalker's scroll looming in her mind, and of longing. She hadn't gotten to talk to Clay in so long, and she wasn't sure that at the end of it he'd still feel the same way about her that he did when she saved his life on the brightest night.

She turned to look at his face in the grayness. His expression was focused, concentrated, effortful.

He must still be in a lot of pain from that burn I gave him, Peril thought guiltily.

No! She shook her head. I kept him alive! If it wasn't for me he'd be dead! But that didn't make her feel any better.

She turned her gaze back down to the valleys below, vast and dotted in slate blue pine trees obscured by the falling droplets. They rolled harmlessly off Clay, but they sizzled when they hit her and dissolved into steam, making her look like a ghost in flight. The rocky outcroppings below resembled a sleeping dragon - as if the landscape itself, was, once again, put to rest after Darkstalker's second sleep.

"Peril," Clay spoke.

She whipped her head around to him. "Clay?"

"I'm... I'm starting to get a bit tired. Do you think we could stop somewhere down below? Maybe in a cave."

She quickly scanned the landscape below her, and saw an opening just a half mile away. "Yeah, I see something down there." She turned herself in the direction of the cave, and Clay followed her.

As they came in for a landing, Peril opened her wings wide, scattering a million fallen petals that intermingled with the rain. She softly touched down and carefully wrapped her wings around herself, and looked back at Clay, beckoning.

They both sat in the mouth of the cave, tails twined, watching the rain fall.

After what seemed like just a moment (but Peril knew full well was the better part of an hour,) Clay looked at her and asked "So... do you want to talk about Scarlet? Or Ruby? Or the stuff that happened while you were helping Moon and her friends save Jade Mountain?"

Peril stared at him, startled. "No! I mean, yes! I mean, just..." She sighed and looked at the roof of the cave. "I do, but like... hrmmmnnm." She closed her mouth shut and hummed.

"I get it. It can be hard to talk about stuff like this. It took us five forever to find the time to reflect and talk about our feelings after everything happened." He looked at the ceiling too and laughed. "Tsunami..." he muttered happily, and shortly his smile faded, his face a sad, wistful stare. "And Glory."

"I... hm." She fidgeted with her talons nervously. "I mean, I DO want to talk about Queen Scarlet and Ruby and-" she shook her head, "not-queen-Scarlet and- arghh, but it's so! CONFUSING! And it makes me mad to think about her manipulating like that. I trusted her, I really did and..."

Clay looked into the rain. "Like we trusted Morrowseer."

"I... I guess... yeah..." She looked into a corner awkwardly, but then curled her fist. "She shouldn't have betrayed us like that!" she roared.

"What about... Turtle?" Clay offered.

Peril's heart jumped in her stomach. She thought about Turtle, the only other dragon who had understood and trusted her, at least for a while. How protective she felt of him, how she wanted to follow him (and then not...) when they were trying to find Queen Scarlet. She thought about how he went underwater that night, making her rage about how she couldn't get to him, and how regretful she felt when she left him behind. He made her feel new things, just like Clay, new weird things.

"He was nice, I guess."

"How did he feel about being an animus? That must've been why he was able to sympathize with you. He knew if he revealed his animus secret he'd be thrust into the talons of others and the plans they wanted for him, and the only way to avoid that was deep, resolute isolation. He knows how that feels, Peril."

She fumed with fury for a second. Why could he hide! He got to choose that lousy isolation, but she didn't have a choice! Then she thought about his pain-stricken face when she found his healing rock, or his vengeful look as he bashed Chameleon upside the-

Chameleon.

She stared through the wall of water passing outside.

"Peril," Clay whispered.

"Oh. Right." She looked back at him.

"I know it's a lot of stuff to think about, but I can't keep carrying this conversation by myself." He softly chuckled with a warm, patient smile.

She blushed and fluttered her wings. "Right. Sorry, sorry. I was just- argh. Arghhh." She squirmed, as if caterpillars were crawling out of her skin.

Do I tell him?

"Turtle," she said resolutely, "taught me new things about myself. He reminded me of you, actually, Clay. You were my first exposure to life outside the Skywing Palace, and if I'm being honest I was kind of disappointed with the other dragonets at Jade Academy, how they treated me. I thought they'd be like you - I thought everyone in the outside world would be like that."

Clay winced.

"But Turtle! Turtle has his friends, and, surely, he's taught them! I keep getting letters from them. Which is like, weird, but the fact that someone's thinking about me!? While I'm not in front of them!?! Threatening to blaze their FACE or melt their SKIN off!?!?!" She yelled with a smile. "It's CRAAAAZY!"

Clay let out a hearty laugh, smiling as well.

"And Queen Ruby - she hated me, she hated me so bad Clay, she hated me just as much as the other Skywings did, if not more. If Scarlet's twisted love is what makes me ache, Ruby's absolute hatred of me tore me to the core. She looked at me and didn't want anybody, nobody in the whole world to do anything with me. Didn't want anyone to touch me, look at me, love me. She saw me as an irredeemable monster because of things I couldn't control." Peril's face contorted in despair.

"But Tourmaline... Someone who hadn't been fed Scarlet's lies... She saw right through that and she knew deep in my heart I COULD love." She scratched her snout awkwardly. "Well, at least I think I can. I'm not sure."

Clay lovingly jabbed her with her shoulder, and she giggled.

"But that pure strong spirit.... It's so." Her stomach dropped. "It's so scary what Chameleon did to her. Ripped her title, her memories, her life away just for some gold, some jewels." She spat on the ground.

"And Chameleon..."

Her stomach felt like a howling void, ready to collapse her from the inside out.

Do I tell him?

What if he hates me?

He should hate me.

I'm just as bad as him.

I'm just like my dad.

She turned to Clay terrified.

"I-" she sputtered. "I want to tell you something."

Clay looked at her face, concerned, but he motioned around. "Just you and me."

"I-" Peril's muscles clenched, her veins wrapped all around inside her, her bones stabbed inside her, shame made her heat blaze ever hotter, shame and guilt and pain and fear. She wanted to fall into the ground and have it swallow her up, but she knew she didn't have a choice.

"I'm not - I'm not actually a girl. I was hatched as a boy. I- I- Queen Scarlet, she said, she- she wanted me to be like her and- " Words started running over one another. "When you got here- I- I- I just felt like protecting you- and- but- I didn't want you to give up on me- Having a relationship- I-" She wanted to die. She wanted to disappear. "I'm a liar. I'm- I'm just like Chameleon," she howled. "I'm faking it. I- I wanted you but I- I just-" She let go, and wailed.

She looked back at him. "P-please don't-don't hate me," Peril choked through tears.

Clay softly gazed at her, leaned in closer, his wings wrapping around her, and kissed her on her snout.

Peril tears turned to confusion as she leaped with delight and her scales roared a bright blazing blue, the searing heat singing any leftover moss in the cavern. Clay reflexively pulled away, and patted his singed scales, laughing.

"Ow, geez, haha! Not like that!"

"I- I- Huh??"

Peril stepped back, but looked up and peered at his expression.

He really doesn't hate me, she thought wondrously.

As Clay turned looking over himself, his scales settled, and as the smoke rose, he looked at Peril.

"You know, someone else actually said something similar to me a little while ago." He sat back down.

Peril crooned. "R-Really?"

"Yeah. It was - it was Sunny."

Peril's jaw dropped open.

"She'd mentioned to me how she'd - during our time fulfilling the dragonet prophecy, she'd... we'd kind of ignore her most of the time. Not take her seriously. When we first planned on escaping the cavern, we didn't tell her.... she was so upset, afterwards. And in all of our discussions and planning afterwards, we'd step on her feelings. Actually, you remember the Nightwing invasion? Or, well, whatever came of the invasion before they all came crashing into Glory's rainforest under fealty."

"Yeah?" Peril looked at him.

"She was the one who came up with the idea of using the sleeping darts! But Glory was planning, and the others were shouting, so she had to ask me to use my voice and SHOUT it at everyone. The point is, she felt small. And overly protected - we didn't respect her whole, y'know, feelings as part of the team."

Peril flicked her tail, anxious.

"So... A couple nights ago, she talked to me in private, and she told me how she'd been feeling, and... she said she didn't really feel like it was right to be a Queen anymore. Given Thorn had safely secured the position, and was doing a good job... And with everything about the Eye of Onyx." Clay shifted on his talons. "She could trust it to pick a new leader. And the thing is, you know how... you've seen Deathbringer. You've seen Riptide. You've seen Starflight and maybe even Winter and Qibli. And maybe even Darkstalker, and Clearsight."

He sighed.

"Male dragons have a strong feeling to protect one person, the one person who brings them all the light in the world. Sunny said she didn't really feel like that - like one person had captured her whole heart in their hands. But she certainly didn't want to be the object of that kind of affection either. And Sunny didn't feel like Queen Coral or Thorn or Scarlet either, where she wanted to protect her own kin, her own future. She wants to protect everybody. And more than that, she doesn't want to be Sunny the small and weak and lovable, or Sunny the fierce and possessive and loyal. She just wants to be... Sunny, helping out wherever she can."

Peril stared at him intently, blue eyes locked in brown. "And?"

"Well, at first we tried just referring to Sunny by name to sort of, you know, respect her decision, but Starflight looked through the library and found in some old scrolls people using 'they' to refer to - did you even know there were dragons who decided to live past being a boy or a girl in the past, just like Sunny? I was surprised."

Peril's mind was racing. "They must be so happy," she said, eyes sparkling.

Outside, the rain had cleared, and Peril noticed out beyond the cave was a huge field of sunflowers, waving and dancing in the cool wind.

Suddenly her thoughts returned to her.

"But that thing you said earlier about protecting..." Peril looked down at her talons uncomfortably.

"Oh yeah - sorry, I... I didn't mean to. I just..." Clay caught himself. "I... I'm sorry Peril. I know your feelings about this must be really, really complicated. I..." Clay looked away again with a twinge of guilt on his face.

Peril stared at him, trembling.

"But Sunny taught me something I hadn't even thought about before." He chuckled. "I did think about it too, but after a long night of restless staring at the sky and thinking I figured I was perfectly happy being a guy. But that look on Sunny's face... they must have struggled as much with telling us as you did."

"I love you, Peril. I don't think you're anything like Chameleon at all. He only used his identities to trick and manipulate others, to get what he wanted for himself. But you've only ever been trying to find yourself - with Scarlet twisting your thoughts from birth, with how everyone's avoided you and you've been excluded from all the Skywings and, man, even the other dragon's games on Jade Mountain. It must hurt so much to be that isolated."

Peril stared into the field, unable to meet his gaze, tears running down her face.

"I just want you to know, Peril, I love you for who you chose to be. For all of your heroism, and your kindness. Your self-restraint. Chameleon had none of those qualities. But you do."

He stared her straight in the eye.

"What you chose is noble, and so so hard. Being true to yourself - more than Chameleon ever was, he couldn't handle being boring old him - is so, so hard. I know."

Peril thought about the Chameleon's enchanted necklace that removed her firescales. She shuddered deeply."

But you did it. And you shouldn't have to live with the shame, or the guilt anymore. You can have a new beginning just like us." His eyes creased as he looked into hers so warmly, making her melt. "You might protect my scales, but I want to protect your smile. I hope you can let me do that."

"I-"

She rushed forward and hugged him, squeezing him tight. Tears streamed down her face, and she choked down a sob, but she hugged him as tight as she could, not letting go.

"Thank you, Clay," she said when she finally let him out of her little death trap.

"Woof!" He stumbled backwards, breathlessly. "I know I said be true to yourself, but maybe we can work a little on the intensity." He looked at her with a silly expression on his face. "Just kidding. You're perfect the way you are."

"Ha ha," she guffawed. "Tell that to anyone else at Jade Academy." She joked, but she knew deep in her heart that the others were starting to see her for what she could be, too. Not just a monster, or a weapon - but a friend.

"So my queen, shall we return to the mountain?" He curtseyed awkwardly, then looked up with one eye. "Actually, wait, that sounds kind of weird? Girlfriend? Babe?" He started scratching his head. "Names were never really my strong suit."

She howled with laughter and smacked him on the back, taking flight. "Just call me Peril," she triumphantly roared. As Clay lept into flight behind her, grinning, Peril thought... Not gonna lie - I like babe too.

#wings of fire #wof #wings of fire spoilers #wof spoilers #wof clay #wof peril #i did it #i wrote my first fanfic

[hlizr50]

You Belong with Me

Azriel and his brothers are high-power executives, and while the Valkyrie ladies always attend the fancy dinners and events, Gwyn is NOT wealthy and is the only one who isn't attached to someone who is. When Gwyn volunteers to take Azriel to the cabin early to prep for their big family/friends vacation, they have a conversation about how she might have to cut back. Add in banter and hours of Gwyn unabashedly belting Taylor Swift, and Az realizes that not having her around is just not an option.

Guys... I've never cared for AU, never been big into song lyrics. But my soul just needed this to be a thing. So here it is.

Read on AO3

“You sure this thing is gonna get us there?” Azriel’s smug grin only earned an eyeroll from the redhead on the other side of the car, opening the driver’s side door.

“Just put your shit in the trunk and get in the car,” she huffed across the weathered blue of the roof. He chuckled, slinging his suitcase into the trunk as the door slammed – maybe with a little extra force. He loved poking at her, and he knew she would dish it right back. After closing the trunk he returned to the open door on the passenger’s side and lowered himself into the well-worn leather seat. “You know not all of us are fortunate enough to be high-level executives at multi-million dollar companies. But rest assured that this historical document restoration expert and her 16-year-old Toyota with 154000 miles are going to get you to the cabin safe and sound. Because you insisted on getting there a day early to make sure everything is secure.” Gwyn deepened her voice, giving him her best Azriel impersonation. And maybe he was being a bit… overzealous. But he had always been the most keenly aware, the most protective. He may have been CFO, but he was also deeply involved in security – both from the standpoint of the organization and of it’s employees. And his family.

He simply smirked, “If you say so.”

“You’re insufferable,” she groaned, turning the key. The car rumbled to life, and Azriel had to admit that he was impressed with how quiet it still seemed to run. He was sure Gwyn was a stickler about maintenance. “Just for that, you are sentenced to three hours of me serenading you with the best songs Taylor Swift has to offer.”

“Oh, Gods, anything but Taylor Swift.” Azriel grimaced, hiding the secret joy he rarely let her see. He loved it when she sang. Her voice was lovely, of course, but what hit him harder was how she seemed to radiate joy when she did it.

Gwyneth Berdara wasn’t quiet and shy like he tended to be – not by a long shot. She was irreverent and blunt and bold. But he could see the shadows that hid just behind the shimmer in her eyes – he could tell there were demons there. Her sister had been murdered four years before, in the apartment they both had shared, and it had wounded her deeply. Nesta had mentioned that there was more to the story, but that it was only Gwyn’s to tell. So, yes, she definitely had darkness that followed her, but she kept it well hidden. He’d learned, as they had become friends, that she often grew anxious in large crowds or chaotic environments. She didn’t feel safe, and that had always bothered him. Regardless of how many people were around or how crazy it was, her friends were there with her. He was there. Whatever it was that kept her so on edge, he imagined that the lingering sadness in that deep ocean gaze and the faraway wistful look that sometimes passed over her features were a part of it.

But when she sang she was a beacon of light, with the brightest smile and rosy, freckle-flecked cheeks.

“Don’t you dare disrespect the goddess T. Swift,” she glowered, and as they pulled onto the highway he lost himself in the lilting notes of her car concert.

He wasn’t sure how long they’d been driving – at least seven works of the goddess T. Swift – when he reached for the volume knob on the console and turned it down.

“Are you coming to the charity gala in a couple weeks?” Azriel looked over at her, noting the light stain of pink gracing her cheeks. She kept her eyes on the road.

“Oh… No.” Gwyn glanced over at him and gave a tight smile, causing him to purse his lips.

“Why not?”

“Az,” she chided, throwing him a stern look. “It’s too expensive. I can’t afford a seat and a dress. Hell, I probably can’t even afford one or the other.” He stayed silent, mulling over the understanding that money wasn’t something he ever had to worry about, and how he could make that not a problem for her. “Besides, you know how I am with crowds like that. I’d probably just have an attack and ruin everyone’s night.” She tried to laugh it off, and that troubled Azriel even more. Because she had seemed disappointed just then when she said she wasn’t going.

“Do you want to go, Gwyn?” He prodded. I want you to go. She sighed, adjusting herself in her seat to straighten her back.

“It doesn’t matter. Like I said, it’s really not possible for me.” She shrugged, as if that was it.

But that wasn’t it. Everyone was going to be there. She should be there, too. She should be there, with him.

“You know we would help –“

“I know, Az. But I’m not asking you, or Rhys. I’m not asking anyone. I can’t keep depending on everyone else just to go to events and dinners and whatever else.” She sucked in a breath. “I just… I don’t live the same life that the rest of you do. And there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s just how it is.”

“Gwyn, you know nobody cares about that.” Azriel frowned. “I understand that my family is… fortunate. Privileged. But you and Nesta and Emerie are a part of us.”

“It’s not the same, Azriel.” Azriel. The full name. This was more serious than he realized. “Nesta is with Cassian and Emerie is with Mor. It makes sense that maybe they’re taken care of. I’m just… a friend. A friend who is poor.” He opened his mouth to argue but she beat him to it. “And it’s not just about covering food… you go to places with dress codes and too many forks for dinner, and with the company’s increasing success the three of you are only growing more popular and more press-worthy. Especially you.”

“Me?” Azriel swallowed, brows furrowed. “Why especially me?”

Gwyn cast him a pointed look, eyes dark and serious. “You’re the last single brother, Az. You are eligible bachelor number one. All the single ladies in the metropolitan area, if not further out, will be pining for you. If they’re not already.”

Eligible bachelor number one. He rolled his eyes. “I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

“Oh Az. Sweet, precious, innocent Az. Have you seen yourself? You’re gorgeous. You’re wealthy, successful, and absolutely beautiful.” Azriel raised a brow and gave her a sideways glance, but she was so stubbornly keeping her eyes trained ahead. It was responsible, of course. She was driving. But not even a peek meant that she was intentionally avoiding looking over at him. The corners of his mouth turned downward, not quite understanding how this conversation had gone the way it had.

“Is that so? Please, tell me more,” he snickered. If there was anything that he knew, it was how to draw her back with teasing. She wouldn’t back down from a challenge, and Gwyneth Berdara was ruthless when it came to having the last word. The corner of her mouth twitched, and he knew she was doing her best not to smile.

“I hate you so much,” she huffed.

“Now, I don’t think that’s even remotely true.” He reached out to pinch the apple of her cheek, but she slapped his hand away, sending a glower that only made him laugh.

“The single ladies can have you. Maybe you’ll find someone else to annoy.”

“Aw, Gwynnie. You know nobody could ever replace you.” And even though it was in jest, it was also… true. “And what would you do without me?”

“Get some peace and quiet for once?” And when the redhead turned with that scrunched freckled nose and her tongue stuck out at him Azriel was relieved to have the playful girl – his best friend – wearing a smile again. “Now shut it or sing along, you have not been punished with nearly enough of our lady Taylor Swift.”

And so the ride continued, but Azriel chewed on his lower lip, contemplating everything Gwyn had said. She was fiercely independent, so he could understand how she might not want to accept what she might perceive as charity, or worse, pity. But the idea of her just not being there… it made something inside of him feel hollow. He reached out and turned down the volume again.

“Why wouldn’t you say anything? About where we’re going to dinner? Or about not being comfortable at big events?” He didn’t even try to hide that he was staring at her, trying to pinpoint any reaction she may have. Once again pink stained her cheeks.

“Az, it’s not like you guys are going to stop going to fancy restaurants so you can come to Wendy’s with me. I don’t want to take away from anyone’s fun.” Fucking ridiculous.

“Did you ever stop to think that maybe we would have less fun without you there?” Azriel tried to keep his tone light, but his temper was flaring. He wasn’t sure why, but it bothered him that she would think she could just… not be there and they would all just go on like it didn’t matter.

“Of course I did,” Gwyn shrugged nonchalantly and threw him a wink. “I know it will be hard but I’m sure you’ll manage somehow. Besides, I don’t plan on just disappearing. I just… need to be more thoughtful about what I’m doing. I’ll just be around… less.” She turned the volume back up and jumped straight into the lyrics, not giving him the opportunity to tell her how preposterous she sounded.

Azriel leaned back in his seat, losing himself in thought with Gwyn’s lovely voice still soothing him in the background. He didn’t know how long he’d been brooding when the volume increased dramatically, blaring through the interior. Looking over he found her tapping on the steering wheel and swaying to the beat of her majesty Taylor Swift. Her eyes were shining, her smile was brilliant, and she sang like she didn’t have a care in the world.

You’re on the phone with your girlfriend, she’s upset

She’s going off about something that you said

‘Cause she doesn’t get your humor like I do

I’m in my room, it’s a typical Tuesday night

I’m listening to the kind of music she doesn’t like

And she’ll never know your story like I do

But she wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts

She’s cheer captain and I’m on the bleachers

Dreaming ‘bout the day when you wake up and find

That what you’re looking for has been here the whole time

If you could see that I’m the one who understands you,

Been here all along, so why can’t you see

You belong with me

You belong with me

Walkin’ the streets with you and your worn-out jeans

I can’t help thinking this is how it ought to be

Laughing on a park bench, thinking to myself

Hey, isn’t this easy?

And you’ve got a smile that could light up this whole town

I haven’t seen it in awhile since she brought you down

You say you’re fine, I know you better than that

Hey, what you doing with a girl like that?

She wears high heels, I wear sneakers

She’s cheer captain and I’m on the bleachers

Dreaming ‘bout the day when you wake up and find

That what you’re looking for has been here the whole time

If you could see that I’m the one who understands you,

Been here all along, so why can’t you see

You belong with me

Standing by and waiting at your back door

All this time how could you not know, baby?

You belong with me

You belong with me

Azriel felt like he couldn’t breathe, like he was seeing Gwyn for the first time. Unbridled joy, laughter when she turned to him when she was singing, dancing in the driver’s seat like a passenger’s worst nightmare.

And he couldn’t help but listen to the words, too. Surely that part was coincidence, but he couldn’t help but feel like she was speaking to him… something was speaking to him.

He grinned as she shimmied her shoulders and rocked her head from side to side, wisps of copper flying away from her ponytail.

Oh, I remember you drivin’ to my house in the middle of the night

I’m the one who makes you laugh even though you’re ‘bout to cry

I know your favorite songs and you tell me ‘bout your dreams

Think I know where you belong, think I know it’s with me

Can’t you see that I’m the one that understands you

Been here all along, so why can’t you see

You belong with me

Standing by and waiting at your back door

All this time, how could you not know baby?

You belong with me

You belong with me

You belong with me

Have you ever thought just maybe

You belong with me

You belong with me

“Gosh I think I went too hard on that one. I’m out of breath!” she laughed, and she glanced toward Azriel in the passenger seat. “Have you had enough yet, Az?”

“Never,” he murmured, and her breath caught. She turned her focus back to the road, but kept stealing looks back at him. She seemed unsure of how to respond, but he was also lost in his own head.

He didn’t want to be the eligible bachelor. He didn’t want to annoy anyone else. He knew that he had cared for Gwyn as more than a friend for a long time – Nesta and Cassian had always encouraged him to do something about it. Nesta in particular had assured him that Gwyn felt the same way. But no matter how much Azriel had flirted she never seemed to acknowledge it, never seemed inclined to do something about it. They bantered and challenged and laughed, but never more.

But Nesta continued to be insistent. She told Azriel that there were some things about Gwyn that might keep her from acting upon her affection for him, and maybe he should make the first move. He never had, of course, for fear of rejection and fear of ruining the relationship that they had.

But now suddenly he was looking at a future where she wasn’t always there. He didn’t like the thought of that. He would go to Wendy’s for dinner instead of whatever black-tie restaurant had their reservation. But, furthermore, he would take care of her, like Cassian took care of Nesta. He wouldn’t go to events without her, and he would make sure that she was comfortable and safe while she was there. Because he would keep her close. He would always keep her close.

By the time Gwyn was pulling the car onto the driveway leading to the cabin she was only singing quietly to herself and letting him sit in his own silent thought. And as soon as she parked and turned off the car he knew exactly what he needed to do.

Without a word he ripped off the seatbelt and burst out of the car, slamming the door behind him. He was already crossing across the front when Gwyn popped out.

“What the hell, Az? The car is 16 years old you can’t just slam doors like that –“

Azriel grabbed the back of her neck and crushed his lips to hers. Gods, they were perfect – warm and lush. She inhaled shakily against his mouth and he tugged at her bottom lip with his teeth. He swept his lips across hers once again before pulling away only slightly, resting his forehead against her own. They were both breathing hard, and her expression nearly sent him to his knees. Gwyn’s teal eyes were wide, shining with surprise and confusion. Her lips were swollen and her freckled cheeks stained crimson. Azriel wasn’t going to give himself enough time to question this, though.

“You’re coming to the gala,” he insisted, gaze flitting wildly between her lips and her eyes before drowning in the ocean pools. “I’m buying your ticket. On our way home after this weekend we’ll go shopping for a dress. And no matter what you wear you will be the most exquisite thing there.”

Gwyn looked up at him, chest still heaving and eyes still wide, and nodded.

“And you’re coming to every dinner and event and anything else after that. Because, no matter what you might think, I don’t want to be there if you’re not there.”

“Az –“

“And when you’re there, you won’t think about money or crowds. Because I’ll be there. I’m going to take care of you and make sure you’re safe. Because I don’t just want you to be there with all of us. I want you to be there with me. Okay, Gwyn?” His eyes bore into hers, willing her to understand, to see what was in his heart.

“Okay,” she nodded. Her breaths had quieted, her eyes were warm, and there was a ghost of a smile there. And Azriel dared to hope that Nesta had been right, and all he’d needed was to take the leap.

“Can I kiss you again, Gwyn?” he asked.

“Please,” she giggled at him, smile widening. He leaned in, this time with much more restraint and care, slanting his lips over her soft ones and gently moving against them. When he pulled away his face was plastered with a shit-eating grin, which grew impossibly bigger when he saw her blushing.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he laughed, still not believing that he had done all that, and that it had… worked?

“I… I’ve wanted you to do that for a long time.” Gwyn sighed and then dragged her bottom lip between her teeth. “So… so just to be clear. You want me… to be…?” Azriel chuckled and ran his hands down her arms and then tangling their fingers together.

“I want to date you. I want you to be my girlfriend. I don’t want to aggravate any other single ladies. I don’t want to be an eligible bachelor. I just want you. We can go to fancy dinners or charity events or the finest fast food restaurants in the metropolitan area.” He pressed his lips to her forehead and then kissed her cheek. “Will you?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “Of course, Az.” He bent his head and kissed her again. He couldn’t get enough of it. It was like he was making up for lost time.

“As her holy highness Taylor Swift said, you belong with me,” Azriel grinned devilishly. “I can’t help but be suspicious that you planned that… planned to make me fall for your beautiful voice and how adorable you are.” Gwyn tilted her head back and laughed, nearly a cackle full of amusement and contentment.

“I did not plan it, but I’m not going to complain about how it turned out.”

#gwynriel supremacy #gwynriel fanfic #gwynriel #gwyn singing taylor swift is a mood #and she totally would #not my usual style

[fortunatelysweetvoid]

screaming about newtmas songs (long post)

a lot of these songs are from this playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4rfa3w0fo3oEq7UKVcAnBx 

this playlist was made by a tumblr but unfortunately, i can’t find the original post. huge thank you to the original creator though; it’s super amazing.

Photograph, Ed Sheeran

newt’s last letter being inside the necklace. keeping it “next to your heartbeat where I should be”. the reminder that they were only around 16 or 17 throughout the entire series. 

“And if you hurt me“- the flare, their last fight. the “i’m sorry tommy“ and “it’s okay“. IT FITS SO PERFECTLY.

Dancing With Your Ghost, Sasha Alex Sloan

a sad one, but this song really fits with thomas being alone in the safe haven. sleepless nights, just remembering what it was like when newt was still there.

the melody is kind of hauntingly beautiful and adds to the melancholy mood of the song so well. do give it a listen!

Please Tommy, Please John Paesano This isn’t a song, but a piece from the movie soundtrack. It’s one of my personal favorite orchestral pieces of music, ever. It’s around 10 minutes long and includes so many different mood changes, which are all amazing. 

It’s action-packed and exciting at times, mysterious at others, or ambient and wistful/longing at others. Please do consider giving it a listen:

https://open.spotify.com/track/1C3r2snScjilmjqKd6FjIQ?si=4c67a90288814eed

Kindly Calm Me Down

could be interpreted as relating to newt having the flare.

or it could be newtmas in the safe haven, comforting each other’s nightmares. there is an amazing fic by amatus_jj with this concept: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13937601

Pink in the Night, MItski

movie-verse au where newtmas pine for each other through the scorch, through the 6 months between tst and tdc. there are moments that could’ve been something, but they never talk about it.

and when newt (almost) dies in the last city, thomas realizes how little time they always had. wishing that they could’ve done something earlier.

maybe the last “And again, and again, and again” means a good ending in the safe haven  :)

Dancing After Death, Matt Maeson

How to Save a Life, The Fray

Happiest Year, Jaymes Young

the whole of tmr takes place over 6 months + a few more. less than a year.

from the fever code, it’s revealed that newt was one of the reasons why thomas wanted to go into the maze. he started his new life so that he could save newt. but it never worked.

All I Want, Kodaline

thomas grieving in the safe haven. that’s it.

Let Me Down Slowly, Alec Benjamin

i don’t even know how to describe it, but it just works with newtmas? IT’S THEM.

there is this edit with this song that hit me pretty hard: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wWeCrRUAyd0

Arcade, Duncan Laurence

Loving you is a losing game, huh :’)

Just Add Water, Cavetown

book-verse newt leaving for the crank palace. him wanting the others to just leave him and continue on without him.

it happens in movie-verse too. at the end of tdc, when he says to leave him behind, and he gives the necklace to tommy.

Someone You Loved, Lewis Capaldi

I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved.

And Then We Get Hit With The Major Character Death :D

Before You Go, Lewis Capaldi

could be so many things. thomas watching newt attempt suicide in the glade, wishing he could’ve saved him.

thomas finding out that newt had the flare / wasn’t immune to the flare.

newt dying, and thomas wishing that he could’ve done more to save him.

Follow You, Imagine Dragons

“I would follow you anywhere“, of course.

The Light Behind Your Eyes, My Chemical Romance

newt repeating the names of their friends every night

newt knowing that he wasn’t going to make it, leading to him writing the letter, hoping that everyone else would.

Heather, Conan Gray

newt’s jealousy over teresa. him always thinking that thomas liked her more.

eventually, newt hating her over the betrayal. seeing that thomas is still attached to her somewhat.

---

thank you so much if you actually read this whole thing :0 hope you discovered some music or lyrics that you might like!

#newtmas #the maze runner #tmr #tmr thomas #tmr newt

[lulu-zodiac]

Title: Peppermint

Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Tags: Fluff, Pining, First Kiss

Summary: Dean shares a Christmas tradition with Cas.

If you want to be added to my fic tag list, let me know! <3

.

There’s a little red tin in the glove compartment of the impala, and when Cas picks it up, he can feel the way it’s scratched and dented with age.

“What’s this?”

Dean glances over, and something unreadable passes across his face. It reminds Cas of how he looks when Sam talks about their childhood, nostalgic and complicated – not happiness, but something close. “Where’d you find that?”

“It was just in here with your Dad’s old phone, under the map,” Cas replies, turning it over interestedly in his hands. There’s a faded image on the front he can’t quite make out, worn green and silver and gold. The colours of Dean’s eyes, as he looks at Cas in the half-light of the unfolding road. “What is it?”

“It used to have peppermints in it,” Dean says, looking back to the road. There’s a wistful kind of sadness in his gaze, but a slight smile playing across his mouth. “Sammy begged Dad to buy it at some gas station when he was, I don’t know, maybe four. He didn’t even like peppermints, he just liked the Christmas tree on the front of the tin, wouldn’t shut up about it. It was filled with those red and white striped candy canes, you know the ones?”

Cas nods, watches the moving December colours play across Dean’s features.

“Well, that year we were stuck in here all Christmas day while Dad was wrapping up a hunt. Sammy was old enough to know it was Christmas, so it kind of sucked. But I got Sammy singing Christmas songs and we drew stupid snowmen cartoons on the windows, and it was okay, we passed the time. Dad was gone so long we ended up eating most of the candy canes while we were waiting, but Sammy insisted on saving the last one for Dad. He still hero-worshipped Dad at that point, even though Dad was barely a father to him – was barely even there, to see Sammy growing up” Dean breaks off momentarily, shakes his head like he’s trying to surface from deep water. Cas notes the set of Dean’s jaw, the way his knuckles are white around the wheel, resists the urge to reach out, soften them.

“Sam knows how much you did now, Dean,” he says, instead, into the quiet.

Dean makes a dismissive sound, carries on as though Cas hasn’t spoken at all, but the tension in his hands is less strained; “Anyway, when Dad finally came back that night he was only a little beat up, in a good mood for once. He tried to take us for some real food, but everywhere was closed by that time so we just sat in here together and Dad broke the last candy cane into three for us to share,” Dean glances at the box Cas is still holding. It feels warm in Cas’s hands now, the mental heating up in his palms as he listens to the story, as though it’s slowly coming alive. “It was one of the better Christmases, actually. Dad refilled the box with them each December, handed them out to me and Sammy when we’d been driving all night. It was one of the few traditions we ever had,” he shrugs, adjusts his grip self-consciously on the wheel, “Stupid, really,” he adds, in that way he has of diminishing anything personal he says, “It’s probably empty now.”

Obligingly, Cas opens the box. It is empty, save a couple of crumpled silver wrappers, but it smells of ghostly peppermint. Cas sniffs, imagines little Dean and Sam sitting in the impala alone on Christmas day. His chest aches at the thought of Dean trying to distract Sam, keep him happy and amused while Dean was probably afraid. “I’ve never tried peppermint,” he tells Dean, inhaling again and trying to figure out the scent. It’s sharp, clean, a little powdery. Like dusty snow. “What’s it like?” he asks, curiously.

“Hard to describe to anyone who hasn’t tasted it,” Dean says, “Like most things. It’s – sweet. Kind of makes the inside of your mouth feel cold when you inhale.”

Cas looks at him, watches the lights of the road reflect in his green gaze.

“Hey, we can get some, if you want,” Dean says, nodding towards the road, “There’s a gas station just up ahead, I wouldn’t mind stopping to stretch my legs anyway.”

“I would like that,” Cas smiles at the thought of getting to taste a little piece of Dean’s history, watches as the lights get brighter and the car slows, pulling into the empty gas station.

Outside, it’s cold, the dark biting at Cas’s skin as he waits for Dean to return from the kiosk. He leans against the cool, smooth metal of the impala, stares skywards for a while. It’s cloudy, the sky is swollen with snow. Cas likes not being able to see the heavens, sometimes. On days like this, earth is full enough of wonder all by itself. The greasy spill of gas station lights on frozen concrete, a little metal box of memories in his pocket, Dean’s footsteps echoing through the quiet towards him. The lights of heaven could never compare.

“Here,” Dean’s nose is pink from the cold, eyes bright as he leans back against the car beside Cas, hands him a paper packet. “Peppermint candy canes. Go on, knock yourself out.” He sticks his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and stares up at the sky, like Cas had been moments before. Cas wonders whether Dean is comforted by the blankness too, or if he aches for the far-distant twinkling lights and their warmth, so long absent from his own life.

“Will you have one too?” Cas asks, peering into the bag and tentatively drawing out one of the striped candies before handing it back to Dean.

“Why not?” Dean’s fingers are warm against Cas’s for a moment, rough with calluses, and then there’s nothing again. He pulls out a candy and stuffs the paper bag into his pocket, begins unwrapping the little umbrella-shaped stick. “I can’t remember the last time I had one of these, you know. Probably the Christmas before Sam went off to college.” He puts the candy between his lips, sucks. Cas suddenly has to catch his breath, cold and startling in his lungs. “Hey, what are you waiting for?” Dean is looking at Cas, lips red and plump around the candy, eyes bright in the cold air.

“Oh,” Cas looks down at his own untouched candy, brings it up to his mouth and sucks experimentally. “It’s like… toothpaste,” he frowns at Dean, letting the cool, clean taste fill his mouth. He sucks again, slower, trying to get a sense of the flavour. “It’s quite nice.”

Dean’s cheeks are pink with the cold now too. “Uh – yeah, it is, I guess.” He’s looking at Cas intently in the muted lights of the deserted gas station, with an expression that is familiar yet unreadable and makes Cas feel warm even in the cold.

“This is what Christmas tasted like to you?” Cas sucks the candy again, looks at Dean.

“Once, I suppose so,” Dean sounds distracted, but his tone doesn’t match the intent focus in his gaze as he looks at Cas. The cold has made his cheeks flush darker still, and the light is muted enough that only an arc of green is visible around the black of his pupils.

“It does make my mouth feel cold,” Cas observes, with interest. He sucks the candy further into his mouth and pulls it out with a pop, feeling the cool cleanness of the air being pulled between his lips. Dean clears his throat slightly. “I haven’t encountered any other food that has this effect,” Cas licks slowly at the tip of the candy, and is aware of Dean inhaling sharply, “Do you know what causes it?”

“I don’t,” Dean’s voice is slightly hoarser than usual.

“Very interesting,” Cas contemplates, licking the tip of the candy again with a swirl of his tongue. Dean makes a stifled sound, and Cas looks up with a frown. “Don’t you want yours?” he asks, eyeing Dean’s uneaten candy, “Or do you only enjoy them when you can eat them with Sam? I’m sorry, I know I can’t provide that part of the tradition for you.”

“Sam isn’t the only person I can have good memories with, Cas. This can be a new tradition, okay?” Dean says, and he’s glowing, so beautiful here in the cold all lit up. “But,” he pauses, swallowing, “You’re right, I’m not sure I want mine.”

“You don’t?” Cas frowns, worriedly. He pulls his own candy away from his mouth.

The colour is high on Dean’s cheeks as he shakes his head, “No. I think I’d rather have yours, actually.” And before Cas can say anything, Dean’s lips are suddenly on his, soft and warm, so warm in the cold air. Cas feels as though he’s been holding his breath for years and is suddenly able to breathe. It’s wonderful, the heat of Dean’s mouth against his, the slick of his tongue twining with Cas’s, tasting of peppermint and making something hot curl deep in Cas’s stomach. His hands are cupping Cas’s face, rough skin, tender touch. Cas is breathing hard when Dean pulls back, both of their breath clouding the December air between them. “Tastes better on you,” Dean grins, and it’s a beautiful thing, tentative and free here in the cold without heaven watching.

Cas reaches out and grabs the lapels of Dean’s leather jacket, pulls him in again. This time it’s harder, urgent, Dean’s breath coming in stifled gasps into Cas’s mouth as Cas presses him back against the impala, sinks into the heat of Dean’s mouth, the warm, hard line of Dean’s body, pliant under him. He can taste the desperation on Dean’s tongue along with the peppermint, and he chases it, deepening the kiss until Dean is groaning against him, clutching at Cas’s coat. Cas thinks he might be making noises too, but he can’t think about anything except Dean, here at last in all the ways he should be, warm and real. Oblivion.

In his coat pocket, he can feel the outline of the little peppermint tin where their heartbeats edge closer to each other. He smiles against Dean’s mouth, loves that he’ll never be able to taste peppermint without remembering this; the shine of Dean’s eyes in the muted December lights, the heat of their bodies pressed together, the sky frozen and empty overhead, a blank canvas for their own stars.

#reorganising all my fics onto tumblr! #feedback is very welcome <3 #destiel #destiel fic #destiel fanfic #destiel fluff #deancas #dean winchester #castiel #supernatural #spn #spn fandom #spn fanfic #my stuff #my posts: fanfic

[peggyrose19]

Falling

Some LeLo fluff for you all to distract everyone from the possible impending doom our country is currently facing. There’s some mutual pining but we all know there’s a happy ending so it’s all good, right? Sure. Anyway, characters belong to the wonderful @lumosinlove. Headcanons belong to her as well. I didn’t read this over, as I’m sure you all can guess. #sorry not sorry. I’m working on doing FinnLo and LionFish at some point too so look out for that. Not too closely cause we all know I suck at deadlines. But at some point. Hope you guys enjoy! If you comment I’ll love you forever!!! <333

They had lost 4-1. Kasey was out again, his thigh continuously bothering him. Leo was in. It was his fault. That’s what was running through his head as they boarded the bus. Hours later he laid in his hotel bed that night fighting back tears, unable to stop himself from feeling the weight of their loss. Logan hadn’t come in yet. Leo hoped he wouldn’t at all. He didn’t want company. He wasn’t sure he could handle it. 

 But then there was a knock at the door and Logan pushed it open, looking at him nervously, hands shoved deep in his pockets. 

“Hey,” Logan said softly. 

 “Hi.” 

Logan stood uncertainly in the doorway for another minute, feet twitching restlessly. After a moment, he jerked into movement, crossing the room before practically launching himself into bed beside Leo. Leo jumped at the sudden contact, but relaxed as Logan lay next to him, tugging the blankets over both of them. Logan didn’t say a word, just curled into Leo’s side, burrowing farther under the blankets. 

 He was asleep in minutes, breathing deep and even. His head rested on Leo’s chest, tucked under his arm. Cautiously, Leo reached out and stroked his hair. It was as soft as it looked, brown locks falling from his fingers like water, still damp from his shower. 

 Leo stayed where he was, petting Logan’s hair, and trying to calm his wild heart. Somehow, without him saying a word, Logan had known exactly what he needed. He hadn’t asked questions, he hadn’t tried to make him feel better. He had just climbed into bed, seemingly aware that Leo didn’t want to talk.

He had told himself he wasn’t going to fall for him, for any of his teammates. It was too hard, too painful to want someone so close yet so far. But as Logan let out a small sigh, Leo knew there was no going back. He was in free-fall with no end in sight. And as Leo looked down at the sleeping boy beside him, he couldn’t quite bring himself to be mad about it. 

 ~ 

A week later, they reached their hotel on a high. It was late. But they had won. And now Logan was dragging Leo down to the pool, the hallways empty and echoy. 

“Allez! It’ll be fun!” Logan said as he pulled Leo down the hallway. He didn’t look convinced, but followed anyway, shaking his head a little. 

The carpet was rough beneath Logan’s bare feet as he hurried down the hallway, still holding Leo’s hand. The pool was empty, barely lit. Moon shone in through the floor-to-ceiling windows along one wall. It was warm, humid, the air thick. Logan grabbed a towel from the rack and set it down on one of the chairs before tugging his sweats off, leaving him only in his boxers. 

“Are you really going swimming in your underwear?” Leo asked. Logan just shrugged. Then, with a smirk, he took a few running steps and jumped into the pool. 

“LOGAN!” 

 He popped up a moment later, dripping wet and grinning like a fiend. 

“Something wrong, Nut?” he asked innocently. 

Leo glared at him and very pointedly brushed water off his shirt and pants. 

“Was that really necessary?” Leo sighed. 

“Oui.” 

 Shaking his head, Leo shucked off his clothes too, setting them carefully on the chair beside Logan’s, and walked carefully to the edge of the pool. Logan swam over to meet him, grinning. He could get used to this, Logan thought, staring adoringly up at Leo. 

 Leo, whose smirk was his only warning before he launched himself into the air and cannonballed into the water. 

 Logan ducked as Leo sailed over him, then spluttered as he hit the water and splashed water all over him. He spun around right as Leo surfaced. He was grinning, dimples deep and perfect. Logan’s heart skipped a beat. 

 “I deserved that, didn’t I?” he said, barely keeping his voice even. 

“Yup.” 

“Yeah.” 

 Logan watched Leo as he swam over to him, grabbing the edge of the pool. Then they were standing next to each other, hands just inches from each other. Leo’s blond hair shone under the moonlight. He looked ethereal, drops of silvery water trailing down his face, hair glowing under the moonlight and dim pool lights. 

 “Lo?” 

He shook his head. “Yeah? What’s up?” 

“Where’d you go there?” 

Logan flushed. “Sorry. Got distracted.” 

Leo smiled easily. “It’s all good.” 

 He pushed off from the wall, gliding to the other side of the pool. His arms moved powerfully under the water, pulling him easily through the water. Logan watched, entranced. Leo glanced back at him with a small smile and flipped onto his back. 

 “I haven’t gone swimming in ages,” he sighed, staring up at the ceiling. “Not since high school, at least.” 

Logan let go from the wall too, laying back and letting the water hold him up. “You go swimming a lot, Nut?” he asked. 

 He could hear Leo’s smile as he responded, “Yeah. My mom would take me all the time. It kinda became our ‘thing’ when I was in middle school.” 

“Sounds nice.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“What was middle school like for you? I’d imagine it’s quite different from Canada.” 

 “Probably. It was alright. I wish I had siblings growing up. All my friends did, but I was an only child. But I guess that made me closer to my mom.” 

 “Merde, I wish I was an only child. Try having three older sisters and see how you like it.” Leo glanced over at him, eyebrows raised. He sighed good-naturedly. “Okay, fine. So maybe I like having sisters. But it wasn’t always fun, I’ll tell you that right now.” 

 “Oh I believe you,” Leo laughed. “I have a lot of cousins, so they were kinda like my siblings. We used to be a lot closer, when I still lived at home. It’s a bit harder now, for obvious reasons.” Leo fell silent for a moment, and Logan looked over at him. He was smiling at the ceiling, looking a bit wistful and maybe a little sad. 

 Logan would do anything to get that look off his face. “Hey. Tell me about them.” 

 “Who, my cousins?” 

“Yeah.” 

 “Okay.” Leo smiled, and began speaking. 

 Logan just watched him, Leo’s voice fading to the back of his mind. It wasn’t often that he got to admire him without being noticed. Leo just had something about him that drew him in, made him want to keep him smiling, keep him happy. He’d burn worlds to keep him happy. As he stared at the blue-eyed boy beside him, he wondered how he ever thought he could stop himself from falling. 

Dimly, Finn surfaced in the back of his mind, face swimming beside Leo’s. In the quiet loneliness of the hotel pool, Logan let himself think of Finn, with his bambi eyes and easy smile. And he let himself imagine what it would be like to have both of them.

#lumosinlove #fluff #mutual pining #lelo love #o'knutzy #cubs #distract yourself from the real world #A+ coping skills here

[greymantledlady]

you are my sweetest downfall

Adam squeezes Michael’s hands again, reassuring. 'Remember – back down there – how we agreed to talk to each other if anything bothered us? This is like that, okay?’

Michael looks stricken. ‘Oh,’ he says in a small voice. ‘Oh. I didn’t – it really isn’t anything worth your time – ’

My second fic for @midamweek! People seemed to really enjoy Adam calling Michael 'sweetheart' in the previous fic in this verse, so I decided to expand on it. Michael is a dork, honestly.

Read on AO3 or below the cut:

Having an archangel as your boyfriend is really good, actually. Better than good.

Adam, in all his years of (largely) calm and resigned pining in the Cage, had never actually, truly believed he had a chance of anything like this with Michael, anything so soft and domestic and - well, astonishingly, normal, really. It still hits him sometimes, that warm rush of astounded happiness when Michael can't stop looking hopefully down at his lips until Adam simply has to press in close and kiss him, when Michael flushes at Adam making the mildest and most low-hanging of innuendos, when Michael asks him what would be the best gift to give Adam for St Valentine's Day. 

The last incident had occurred in July, because Michael had thought Adam would probably forget all about the conversation by the time February rolled around, and he had been so endearingly pleased with himself over this plan that Adam had started laughing and pulled him down onto the couch by the fire and kissed and sucked all the way down his neck until it bruised.

Given that Michael was at the time a metaphysical projection of grace shaped into a copy of Adam's own body and existing in a dimension faintly to the left of the mortal plane, it probably didn't actually need to have bruised, but Michael had warmed extremely quickly to the concept of hickeys, apparently. He likes them a lot, likes to keep them and nurse them and admire them in the mirror when he thinks Adam's not looking, and Adam thinks it's kind of the best thing ever.

Right now, though, Adam's a little worried.

Michael has been - off - for a little while now. Not worryingly so - nothing like the shaking bouts of grief that Adam had held him through when he'd first gotten back, when he'd been mourning the asshole father who'd never loved or deserved him. Nothing like that, it's just - a sort of odd wistfulness that seems to fall over him sometimes, at the strangest of moments, and Adam is determined to work out what’s causing it.

***

They're in bed, Adam happily boneless and tired out and curled around Michael, stroking his hair while Michael smooths his hand up and down Adam's back in the firm way that Adam likes, his grace-formed body firmly anchored to the physical world this time, as warm and solid as Adam's own. Adam nuzzles his cheek affectionately, smiling against his skin when Michael hums with contentment. 

'Hey,' he says quietly, squinting a little to focus on Michael's face.

'Adam,' Michael says, just as soft. He looks hopeful for a moment, as though he's waiting for something. Adam's not quite sure what it is. He traces his thumb gently over Michael's collarbone, waiting to see if he'll come out with it, but eventually Michael just sighs quietly and turns his face to press it into Adam's hair.

***

Adam, before he’d been killed and resurrected, had enjoyed baking.

Of course, that had been more than a thousand years ago, but – well, time was weird that way, when it came to being trapped in an archangel cage in Hell. It wasn't that he'd forgotten any of it, of course, and he valued those memories, the way Michael had softened, increment by increment, until somewhere along the line he'd become someone Adam couldn't live without.

It was just that, once they'd gotten out, the memories seemed condensed, so that you weren't sure at all if it had been ten years or a thousand. Adam wondered sometimes whether that was what Michael's billions of years of existence must feel like to him, too.

Anyway, he'd liked to bake. When he'd come back, after the first long pain-filled months of negotiating with the Winchesters to bring Michael back too, and after the first whirlwind of joy of finding out Michael wanted him the same way, he'd started again, searching up recipes online on his phone and writing them out in a notebook if they turned out successfully.

Today, he’s craving choc chip cookies, so he looks at the pantry and pulls out flour and sugar and chocolate chips, opening the packet immediately to sneak a few to nibble on as he starts to measure everything out. They need a medium-sized mixing bowl; he needs to put that on the list for the next time they go grocery shopping. The big one is fine for today, though.

‘What are you doing?’ Michael asks, coming up behind him. He touches Adam’s elbow with a soft hand as he passes, leaning on the counter to watch.

‘Baking!’ Adam says. He bumps his hip gently against Michael’s. ‘I’m making choc chip cookies.’

Michael shifts a little closer so they can stay connected, and leans over to inspect the ingredients, poking a finger into the well of flour Adam has measured out, leaving a little dent. He’s always been surprisingly tactile, liking to touch new things, test them on his fingers.

‘Don’t eat that,’ Adam warns. ‘It tastes awful raw. Choc chips are better, here.’ He picks out a single chip – no need to overwhelm Michael’s still-developing sense of taste – and says, with a grin, ‘Open your mouth.’

Michael raises an eyebrow, looking at him, soft-eyed and so in love that it makes Adam’s heart pulse with warmth. ‘Okay, kid,’ he says, and opens up.

Adam puts down his spoon, buzzing with affection, and presses closer, leaning up against Michael’s chest and delighting in the way Michael’s arms come up to circle his waist. ‘Hey,’ he murmurs, up close, and runs his thumb along Michael’s parted lips, just to tease him a little.

Michael sighs, soft, bending forward, only to be foiled by Adam’s hand. ‘Choc chip,’ Adam reminds him, and pops it in.

‘Mm,’ Michael says, nibbling. He looks so surprised at the small burst of sweetness that Adam grins again.

‘Good, yeah?’ he says. ‘Do you want another one?’

Michael licks his lips. ‘It was good,’ he says. ‘I don’t want another one, though.’ His eyes dip downwards, his hand stroking a hopeful little circle on Adam’s back.

‘I can’t imagine what you do want,’ Adam teases. He snuggles himself a little more firmly against Michael, runs his hands down his sides and around to fit into his back pockets, enjoying the way Michael shivers. ‘Oh, get over here.’

‘I am here,’ Michael says, but then Adam kisses him, slow and sweet, smiling against his lips before pulling back. ‘Oh,’ he says softly. ‘Adam.’

‘Michael,’ Adam says, just as softly, and leaves another tiny kiss at the corner of Michael’s mouth, the moment drawing out soft and gentle; the kind of moment that you could live in forever. Michael’s eyes are soft and hazy, leaning into him, and Adam reaches up to run his knuckles over his cheek.

Michael exhales, and strokes his hands gently across Adam’s back, watching him closely. He has that odd, hidden wistfulness in his face again, as though he’s waiting for something, and Adam wants to do something about it, wants Michael to tell him what it is so he can give it to him.

‘What is it?’ he says gently, and holds back the endearment that wants to spill out, absurdly tender. He’s pretty sure it will only make Michael more embarrassed.

Michael sighs again, very soft, and glances away. ‘No, it’s nothing,’ he says.

Adam’s pretty sure it’s not nothing, but he doesn’t press. They have all the time in the world, after all, and he has cookies to bake for them. Michael will come out with it eventually.

***

Except Michael doesn’t come out with it, and it keeps happening, and Adam is honestly starting to worry. They’ll be together, and happy, so happy – he knows Michael is happy, can feel it in the grace that’s constantly twined around his soul. They’ll be kissing, or snuggling, or making love, and it will be a perfect moment, the kind of moment that makes everything worth it, like a warm soft blanket to lose yourself in.

And then suddenly Michael will be looking all wistful, like a sad little puppy wanting a morsel, and disappointed, and Adam is beginning to really, really not like that at all.

He’s tried everything – more kisses, cuddling, even that one thing that Michael really likes during sex but gets incredibly flustered and blushy over, so Adam saves for special occasions. And Michael loves it all, he really does, Adam can feel it, but none of it manages to soothe that particular, wistful little ache in his grace.

When he was small, and he’d had a problem, or felt bad, or unhappy, or guilty, Mum had always managed to coax it out of him eventually. She would sit him on the couch and give him a glass of milk, and tell him that it was always better to talk things out, not hold them inside of you till they hurt. Bad feelings were like appendicitis, she’d say, they’d make you very sick if you left them inside.

Adam thinks Michael has the equivalent of emotional appendicitis at the moment, honestly, and he’s pretty sure he needs to do something to fix that.

***

When Adam comes to find him, Michael is sitting at their kitchen table, inspecting a small pile of rocks. Months ago, he’d read a magazine article about gemstone tumbling, and then read it again, and again, and again, until the pages were dog-eared and Adam couldn’t help but notice. So he’d gone online and bought him a little tumbling kit on Ebay, as a surprise, and Michael had been hugely and gratifyingly pleased about it. Now every time they go for a walk, he comes home with his pockets full of bits of quartz and such, and their house is filled with shiny little piles of gems, like some kind of dragon’s hoard.

(‘It reminds me of creating planets,’ he tells Adam once, softly. ‘I used to polish them until they were so beautiful and round.’)

Now, he looks up as Adam comes up behind him, leaning his head back against Adam’s stomach as Adam slides his arms over his shoulders. Adam kisses his ear. ‘Hey, you,’ he says. ‘You got a moment?’

‘Of course,’ Michael says immediately, at attention. ‘What do you need, Adam?’

‘Just you,’ Adam says, and gives his shoulders a little squeeze before pulling out the chair next to Michael’s and sitting down, swivelling towards him. Michael puts down the rock he’d been inspecting and turns to face him, the full force of his attention directed onto Adam’s face.

‘Okay,’ Adam says, and reaches out to take Michael’s hands in his own, squeezing. ‘I need to talk to you about something, Michael – oh, no, don’t look at me like that,’ he breaks off, running a comforting thumb over Michael’s knuckles. ‘It’s nothing bad.’

Michael nods, still looking rather worried.

Adam decides to get it over with. ‘Look, I’ve noticed that there’s something bothering you,’ he says gently. ‘Something that you want, that you’re not telling me. I can feel it in your grace – like last night, when we were falling asleep, and when I made cookies, and other times, too.’ He squeezes Michael’s hands again, reassuring. ‘Remember – back down there – how we agreed to talk to each other if anything bothered us? This is like that, okay?’

Michael looks stricken. ‘Oh,’ he says in a small voice. ‘Oh. I didn’t – it really isn’t anything worth your time – ’

‘Oh, sweetheart,’ Adam says softly, because he can’t help it, ‘of course it is, it always is – ’

And suddenly, bizarrely, Michael’s grace is going wild, elated, looping and twining, wrapping around his soul with little, soft, shuddering ripples of happiness. He looks as though he’s about one step from breaking down, swaying a little towards Adam with his eyes shiny and his lips a little unsteady.

Okay, what?

‘Okay, what?’ Adam says, and reaches out to touch his face. ‘Michael, what was that? What happened? That was it, wasn’t it?’

Michael swallows, his grace still buzzing with happiness, turning his face into Adam’s touch. ‘You said it again,’ he says, closing his eyes for a moment like he’s basking in Adam’s warmth.

‘Said what?’ Adam says – and, ‘wait, ‘sweetheart’?’ His heart feels like it’s melting. ‘That was all you wanted? For me to call you pet names?’

Michael is going pink now, avoiding his eyes. ‘You must think I’m foolish,’ he mumbles.

‘Of course I don’t,’ Adam says, overwhelmed with sheer fondness. ‘Well, maybe just a little bit, for not just telling me, honestly.’ He knuckles gently at the corner of Michael’s eye, and it actually comes away a little damp. ‘Oh, sweetheart,’ he says, knowing he sounds ridiculously tender, and that pulse of sheer bright happiness ripples through Michael again, through his grace.

‘It was the first thing you said,’ Michael says softly. ‘When you brought me back. My name, Michael, and – and you called me that. And I asked about it, and you kissed me and I was happy, but you never said it again. I,’ he swallows. ‘I don’t know why I. I wanted you to say it.’

‘Okay, you need to come here right now,’ Adam says, and climbs directly into his lap. He brings his hands up to hold Michael’s face, looking down at him. ‘Fuck, I love you,’ he says helplessly, and Michael’s whole face twitches, his hands coming up instinctively to fit at the small of Adam’s back.

‘I love you too,’ he says immediately, honestly. ‘Adam.’

‘Yeah?’

‘I – would like it if you said it again, please.’

‘Yeah, sweetheart, okay,’ Adam murmurs against his lips. ‘I’m never going to stop.’

#midam week #midam #michael/adam #michael spn #adam milligan #my fic #supernatural #my post

[pleasereadmeok]

Matthew Scene by Scene - A Discovery of Witches Season 2 - Episode 9  #7 - Matt and Bess.

Spoilers if you haven’t seen ADOW season 2 episode 8 + book spoilers.  

At Water Lane, Cecil finds the Book of Life and declares that Matthew won’t be needing his books anymore - due to the lack of a head.  Meanwhile, Matthew returns to talk to Queenie.  

Everything depends on what he says and does now.  Matthew starts with a deferential bow.  He needs to show he is completely in Liz’s power now or it’s over for him.

Queenie doesn’t really looked shocked at his return, or angry for that matter.  She just looks sad.   

Matthew gives Liz a slight smile and she watches as he bites his finger to draw blood.

Eew!  But Liz doesn’t react in that way.  She looks on intently but it’s like she knows exactly what he is doing and that this is something she has seen before.  

Matthew’s actions are charged with something else.  It’s an intimate moment and it is telling us something deeper about the relationship of trust between these two.

Matthew extends his finger, complete with a drop of his precious healing blood, towards Liz with a little tilt of his head and a smile. 

Queenie grabs Matthew’s hand but she obviously knows he is trying to help her so she relents as his finger lands on her aching tooth.   

Again - EEW!   The relief from pain seems to be immediate. But will that be enough to put the Queen in a better mood?  Don’t think so.

Liz looks so sad and wistful when she says that Matthew’s blood could make her immortal.  Matthew patiently explains that making her a vamp and altering the course of history was not something he would do - as he told her father Henry VIII before her.  Interesting.  So maybe Liz has known Matthew all of her life.  In the books we learn that he was one of Henry’s trusted aides in a former life as Sebastian St Clair.  I always think that name conjures up an image of a lothario, a serial seducer of the women of the Court. I imagine Seb St Clair to be like Matthew Goode’s fantastic portrayal of the seducer George Wickham.  But that’s just me - and purely based on the name.  But if anyone wants to take that idea and write about it - I’ll read that!  

Anyway - back to the scene.   Matthew reckons a vamp queen on the English throne would lead to chaos but on the contrary Liz feels that her death would lead to chaos coz her enemies snap at her heels.  

What will happen when I am gone?! 

Matthew sees his chance.  He reassures Queenie about her future and how the Spanish and the witches need not concern her.  How can you possibly know your Queen’s future? 

Because I have seen it.

Matthew tells the truth about Diana and his presence in the 1590′s and guess what?  Liz believes him - in her heart she knows it is true. 

You are a future Matthew.  

Your true Shadow would not have disappointed you so. 

Liz gently places her hand on Matthew’s cheek.  It is an intimate gesture that we can guess has often happened before.  

Liz asks about her realm.  

It is secure. 

And Matthew plays his trump card and feeds Queenie’s vanity by assuring her of her glorious place in history.  

Right on cue the lighting flares to bathe Liz in a regal glow. 

Matthew obviously feels his work is done - you can almost hear the mic drop. 

As Matthew leaves, Queenie ends the audience with a wistful - Matt. Thank you. 

You’re welcome, Bess.

OMG - where do I start with this.  I LOVED this whole scene.  

In the book, the scene plays out with Diana in the room as well but I think it was a goode call to keep the scene as an intimate two hander.  Even if you haven’t read the books you can pick up how close these two have been in the past.  Bess has known Matt for years and he has been this unchanging, gorgeously handsome man in her life.    In the books Diana concludes almost straightaway that Liz is in love with Matthew and has been for a very long time. Their relationship had gone beyond mere ‘favourite’ and monarch.  They were close, very close.  How close?  Well for a young Princess, and then Queen, who could never risk her ‘virgin’ status being blown out of the water with an unplanned pregnancy, a vampy boyfriend would be pretty ideal wouldn’t it?  This is hinted at in the books. Maybe I imagined that - someone correct me if I’m wrong.  At the very least, it’s clear that Liz had a longtime crush on the handsome Seb. 

Elizabeth wants to live forever and is pining for her youth and former beauty when, perhaps, Matthew/Seb was the object of her affection.  Now, poor Queenie is old and her looks have gone but her former ‘lover’ [?] has the audacity to still look like a GOD and marry someone who is not her.   Also, you can see that it was not all one sided.  There is a gentleness in Matthew’s conversation with Bess in this second audience, like he is remembering the goode times as well.  

It was never gonna end well but it feels like they have reached an understanding.  In the books ( so far) we don’t find out if these two ever met again but if this was their last meeting - it was a goode end. 

All of the awards for these two for such a poignant and wonderfully played scene.  Matthew is a totally brilliant actor and he was perfect in this scene.  I’ve not seen much of Barbara Marten before coz she’s been in TV stuff like ‘Casualty’ [basically a hospital soap?] that we don’t watch but she was so goode in this role - maybe the best portrayal of Liz that I’ve seen.

I just want to end on the make up, coz Barbara Marten is a beautiful older women who I would LOVE to look like when I am 74 coz ..... look at her!

The ADOW make up department worked a bloody miracle.

[Pics - ADOW S2:09 edits/screenshots]

#matthew goode #a discovery of witches #adow #adows2 #adow spoilers #barbara marten

[guudak]

andante, andante

pairing: jungkook / oc genre + tags: college au, f2l, alcohol, pining word count: 7,522 The aftermath of your best friend singing that ABBA song, clumsily flirting with you and then drunkenly professing his love to you multiple times in the same night.

“Is he ok? Namjoon, what’s he doing?” 

“He’s severely hungover,” he explains to you, propping an arm on the windowsill. His hand gestures. “This is his remedy.” 

You look out the window again, overseeing the frat’s backyard, and down below at the deck - is the person you sought. The gales shake the trees, you can hear it howl, and not to mention the downpour of rain that had you soaked to the skin through your jeans between your sprint from the bus stop to here. You look back at Namjoon, disbelieved. “What, sitting in a hot tub outside in the middle of a hale storm?”

“Erm, well, not the storm bit. That was just unfortunate. Sitting meditatively in a hot tub though, yeah. He does that a lot, moreso when he has something on his mind.” He peeps a discreet eye at you while you claim a seat on the ledge. Your arms cross, huddling your oversized cardigan over yourself as you glance back at the mop of matted black hair on the deck. Jungkook is sitting very still, laying back, eyes closed and his neck craning upwards towards the gloomy sky. A breath of air expels from your nose when you imagine how cold the rain must be. 

“I really wanted to talk to him in person … I don’t know, do you think I should have waited a few days?” You turn to Namjoon who shakes his head. 

“It’s good you came here. I think it would have left him to assume the worst and overthink otherwise, and you know what he’s like - better to confront him sooner than later. He’s been in a kind of sad, mopey daze since this morning.”

Your lips purse together as you mull this over. “I don’t necessarily want to confront him about it now, not if he doesn’t want to yet. I just want to see him and … make sure he’s ok. Because you know, that … overthinking thing he does.”

The upward lift of Namjoon’s lips is soft, the same kind of softness that’s perceptible in his eyes. The look reminds you of Jungkook’s own gentle demeanour. “I think seeing you here will disorient him a litte, but I think deep down he’ll be relieved. ” 

He invites you to sit in the warmth of the lounge downstairs while you wait. The house of Beta Tau Sigma is cosy, and your favourite visits are always during the winter period when they’d decorate the interior, reminding you very much of the setting of a classic Christmas movie. Alas, however, it isn’t winter, and there are still strewn cups around and a broken lamp on the table in front of you; consequence of the party they hosted the previous night.

You’re surprised Jungkook remembers. He’d been so far-gone yesterday, yet you woke up this morning to four successive texts from him -

i’m sorry

im so so sorry.

can we talk

please

You’d thought over a tactful reply; taking into mind Jungkook: despite the calm, rational front he has - is emotional, an individual with a soul as sensitive as they come. You had to be careful with what you said, but soon after aborted all efforts when you’d found yourself backspacing each time. You prefer face-to-face conversation, and for something like this - you couldn’t possibly venture any other approach that would be befitting. For anyone else, perhaps. But Jungkook isn’t just someone else. He’s your best friend.

You check the text in reply that you’d left for him from two hours ago, which is still left unread.

 hi jungkook i’d love to talk

are u ok

Sleeping it over had dulled the shock from the night before, as hearing it from him had been a double whammy for both your head and heart. You hadn’t known what to think, hadn’t known what to say.

In his tastefully tipsy state he’d been very happy. The chirpy go-lucky sort of happy that made you coo. Tipsy Jungkook is sweet and endearing, more affectionate and made it his mission to pull you with him to the karaoke machine. You’d been friends with him long enough to know that he could sing. He’s a soft singer; has a voice that could be lullaby to late sleepy evenings, it’s one you’d heard snippets of because he did it without conscious thought; he hummed in the car, while waiting in line - one of his many mannerisms that makes clear when he’s in his head.

“ABBA? Good choice,” you’d commented, after he jabbed the numbers on the remote. He budged over so you could sit beside him on the armchair. So cramped and close that you moved to drape your leg over one of his, and he welcomed it. “Not their most popular song, but definitely one of their most soulful. That’s a good one, it’s one of my favourites,” and then he stilled. 

At the cease of his movements, you’d found your spine straightening just slightly, as if on guard, but for what you hadn’t been sure. You were about to ask him if he was ok, only to be taking the brunt of his bright puppy eyes that smile at you.

“Me too,” he’d said, with that characteristic gentleness shining in his orbs. 

A few hours later, he’d morphed from sweet boy-next-door with the angel voice to himbo football jock slash and quote “pussy-whisperer,” courtesy and words verbatim of Park Jimin, who vibed with Jock Jungkook like a long lost brother. 

The amount of girls that suddenly flocked to him and sat on his lap had you reeling in hysterics to the extent that you had to bury your face in Hoseok’s shoulder. Even when Jungkook’s on the football team, you’d never thought of him once as a jock. Didn’t they say all jocks are athletes, but not all athletes are jocks? He’d never lived up to the greasy college stereotype. Turned out maybe some alcohol was missing in the mix. Was this what you were missing? Who knew he had it in him?

“How many have you had, man?” Hoseok had asked, and Jungkook grinned, mouth lop-sided, before then thwacking him solidly on the back. 

“I’m good, thanks for asking, man.” 

“That wasn’t what I - ok,” Hoseok winced, clutching at his shoulder blade, and exchanging a bemused look at you. 

You were alert to the sliding gaze of Jungkook on you. He slid into the chair close beside you, and you propped your elbow onto the counter. Head resting in your palm, you’d anticipated it.

“Hey, cutie.”

And there it was.

Your mouth twitched during your attempt to stifle your laugh, but you were eager to play along. You straightened, not shy to look him direct in the eyes, even when his own wandered to your midriff. “Hey.”

A moment’s pause, before he let out a wistful sigh. 

“Holy shit, I love your boobs.”

Hoseok spat into his cup, a succession of coughs after.

“No, I’m just saying, from a non-biased, impersonal point of view …” He made a vague, rounded motion in the air with his hands, “- they’re really nice. I’m saying this objectively.”

“Objectively,” Hoseok wheezed. You aimed a calculated kick at his ankle.

“Thanks! They’re not much but they’re cute, I grew them all by myself.”

Jungkook hummed in acknowledgement, a critical eye on you and his head bobbing solemnly. “You did a good job.”

“Oh my God,” Hoseok was crying; head ducked, full-blown tears of laughter, ears pink and slapping the countertop. “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

“Yours are pretty neat, too,” you told him. 

He looked down at the outline of his chest. “You think so? I’ve been working out but they could do with a bit more volume.” 

Hoseok was doubling over, desperate to leave but at the same time rooted to the spot, thumping his chest to stop himself from choking. “I can’t take this anymore. I’m gonna die if I stay any longer. See you, guys.”

He left, leaving you alone with Jungkook and a few others in the kitchen. “You alright?” you asked, and he nodded again, smiling tiredly and head lolling a little to the side.

“Did you like the song I sang for you earlier?” 

“You sang it for me? How sweet of you,” you cooed, cuddling up to his side. “You know, if you wanted to touch my boobs, if you asked I think I’d be ok with that.”

He seemed hesitant. “You’re bullshitting.” 

“Ok, maybe I am a little,” you chuckled, feeling the rumble resonating from his chest. 

“Seriously,” he murmured, and for a millisecond, you swore you detected the tone of the Jungkook - not this Jungkook who was a confident force, but the one you were most familiar with, “I think I’d -”

Jimin’s voice boomed above the stereo, “Jungkook! It’s your turn! Get your ass back here!”

A heavy sigh was drawn out from him as he slid his chair back. Though, he waited for you to lift your head from his chest before doing so. 

“See you.” He winked at you before following Jimin’s ongoing calls. Though, more of a wink and a half. He never could wink properly with just one eye, both had to be involved.

Then came the finale.

The most recent drunken Jungkook phase - one you’d never witnessed beforehand. If there was anything you could have concluded, it was that beyond his sober level-headed exterior, he must have a lot of pent up anger. Jungkook in drunken phase three transitioned between a three colour spectrum of moods and you’d barely caught up. 

Exhibit one -

“The ocean is so important!” he cried, literally cried as he began bumbling about blue whales and the sheer plastic in the ocean, morosed how the first piece of plastic ever produced still hadn’t decomposed. 

It was no help that Namjoon enthusiastically joined in - the fucking nerds, until Jungkook started bawling and knocked back the salt shaker on the countertop mistaking it for a shot of tequila. 

You’d panicked and dragged him to the nearest bathroom to wash it out of his eyes. The seconds that followed afterwards, was you rubbing his back while he sobbed and puked the hearty contents of his stomach into the toilet.

Exhibit two - 

“If any dude is giving you a hard time, chances are - you’re hotter than them. And on top of that, they made you cry, making you a better person than them!” he proclaimed. Once you’d helped him clean up, he’d bumped into Ola - a girl you recalled was in his media class, and was crying outside of the door of the bathroom you and Jungkook had been in. 

She’d sniffled her way through a story about a boy she’d been talking to for six months, and Jungkook was as revved up as his ocean speech while he pep-talked her about how heartless the guy was; that he gave good guys a bad rep; and that she simply deserved better. Of course, you’d agreed with him. It sounded all too familiar to something you’d said in the past, though who could blame him for adopting your mannerism of speech when he’d spent so much time with you?

Exhibit three -

“Hey, Chad! Why the fuck do you hate poor people?!”

You were mortified. “Jungkook! Literally, where did you get that conclusion from?!” 

“He plays lacrosse and owns a golf cart!”

You groaned, yanking at his arm away from Chad - captain of the boys’ lacrosse team, and who’d also fortunately passed out on the couch, otherwise Jungkook for sure would have had his face beat in. Though, you’d like to think that Jungkook would win, for sure, but you promised sober Jungkook that you’d take care of drunk Jungkook. 

So that was that. 

By now you’d contracted a stress-induced migraine, by which your own best friend was accountable for. And you thought - by God, did he have to deal with this every time you went to a party together while you’d run rampant? This had been an eye-opener, and you should definitely be considerate next time because drunk people were babies, and not in the cute way either.

And finally: exhibit four.

“Hey.” 

You endured all the pet names, had endured being called the Apple of his Eye, Angel Face, and his Compass Star, because flirty Jungkook had been throwing pet names around all night. You’d seen and heard it yourself. But nothing would have prepared you for what he’d say next. 

You glanced at him, just a second to look away from your phone screen. “Yeah?” 

His eyes drooped, form slouched, and head atop his folded arms on the countertop. It was just after midnight, and the kitchen was a quiet lull, besides you and Jungkook who were sitting together; and then there was Jimin and Taehyung, and Seokjin by the sink in their own private conversation … and whatever it was that Taehyung was doing. Admittedly you hadn’t been paying much heed nor did you endeavour to find out.

Body curling into himself; Jungkook looked so much smaller than when he stood to his full stature. 

“I’ve got it bad,” he mumbled, wistfully, “real bad. So bad - I’m doomed bad. End of the fucking world baaad.”

Your hands rubbed at his nape, tender fingers toying with the longer hairs there. He’d been growing it out, and he looked good. You tucked a tuft of hair behind his ear. “What makes you think that?” 

Again - the glossy puppy eyes that gazed up, contemplating you like you’d fallen from heaven. 

His smile was meek, as shy as the drawling voice that spoke, “I … I really think you’re my soulmate. I don’t like saying it too much but I … like, love love you, but we’re only best friends. Someday you’ll date for real - instead of flings, I’d have to accept it. I don’t think I’ll be ok, but I will be, jus’ will take time to get over you. Have done it a few times before. I’ll be ok.” 

Your hand stilled, fingers still tangled in his locks. 

Rendered motionless, like air had been punched out of you from the stomach, unable to bring yourself to salvage the words. Breathless, all you could bring yourself to do was to weakly call his name. 

He hadn’t heard you, and he yawned, leaning into your touch. His body trembled with his giggles. “One time, you were sooo drunk. You were so drunk, don’t think you remembered - blacked out. You flirted with me that whole evening. After that … after that I became obsessed with you forever.”

It was with a sinking stomach when you’d realised that you couldn’t recall that night at all. 

Gulping, you peered down at the mop of tangled hair on the countertop, wishing for nothing else but to properly see his face, but it was half-hidden where he’d snuggled into his arms. 

“Jungkook?” you whispered, gently moving away the hair that flopped over his eyes. “Jungkook?’

No reply. Just steady, heavy breathing.

No reply, because he’d fallen asleep.

It’s a splitting headache that rouses Jungkook from heavy sleep. One of those slumbers where he wakes up groggy, as if he hasn’t rested at all despite it being hours since. He tries to get up, but to no avail. His limbs are leaden heavy, and he collapses back onto his bed within seconds of mustering the strength to hoist himself up.

There are a series of knocks on the door but what’s the point of knocking when Jimin barges in anyway. He snickers seeing Jungkook: a sad, spectacular heap on the bed with a bitching hangover to boot.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen.” 

“Shut up,” Jungkook drawls, barely recognising the cadence of his own voice. He throws an arm over his face, brow tightening as he shuts his eyes to recall anything that happened hours prior, but even that’s too much of a Herculean effort that his brain isn’t willing to commit to at nine in the morning. Hangovers are not worth the night before for this - this is a different kind of hell. 

Jimin places a glass and a jug of water on his bedside table. “Good morning to you too, sunshine.” 

“Thanks,” he replies. He at least has enough strength to reach for the glass. When he sits up a hand goes instantly to knock against his temple, as if it would stop whatever invisible vice it is that’s squeezing and hammering at his brain from all directions. He notices Jimin’s narrowing scrutiny on him. 

“You remember anything from yesterday?”

“Honestly, not really. Just some bits here and there.” 

“Blacked out, huh.” If Jimin hesitated it’s only for a split second, he stuffs a hand into his hoodie pocket for his phone. “There’s something I wanna show you. Not sure if you’re gonna like it much.”

“Can’t be that bad,” he says, but Jimin proffers a look, and Jungkook frowns. “... Right?”

Jimin licks his teeth in a way that makes Jungkook’s stomach drop just slightly.

“Famous last words, bud,” is all he replies.

 /

The slide of the back doors from the kitchen is what jerks your head up, followed by the sound of feet pattering on tiles. Suddenly, there’s a rise of anxiousness. Until you drum into your head that, no , this is nothing for you to be anxious about. There are the natural nerves budding that stem from confrontation, and you think this may be it.

Towel around his shoulders and dampened hair swept back, Jungkook doesn’t notice you at first when he appears by the doorway. He walks, gazes ahead like his legs are functioning on autopilot - but when he does notice you, he could have skidded. The way he halts and how his body almost springs backwards into the kitchen as soon as he sees your form huddled on one end of the couch, and how Basil - the frat’s cat, is curled by your lap, peacefully asleep and indulging in the soft stroke of your knuckles on his head. 

His expression mirrors a man who wants so desperately to sink into the floorboards. Or to dash back into the hale storm and fully immerse himself head to toe into the hot tub’s waters and never surface again.

The first few seconds of silence is heavy. As if you’re both still trying to process the presence of the other. It’s an uncomfortable silence you’re not accustomed to when with Jungkook. He’s always leaned more to the quiet side of the spectrum; introverted, introspective. But silences had always been comfortable, even when you two clashed. 

You endeavour for eye contact but he’s suddenly so transfixed on a shadow upon the wood flooring. 

“Hey,” you begin, quietly, like the walls are listening in on you. It’s enough gentle encouragement for him to peer up. He hides his hangover well but the mirth, the glint; the starry eyedness that reflected in his orbs from the night before is absent, and no amount of hot tub therapy could conceal the physical and mental exhaustion. 

“Hey.” He sounds almost breathless, smothers the tremor in his voice with a cough. “You’re … you’re soaked.”

“So are you.” Your tone is apologetic, “Sorry I came on short notice, I messaged you but I don’t think you saw it.”

He winces. “Right - sorry. My phone died. Haven’t checked it since.”

You muster a small smile. “I thought as much.” 

Another breath. Another nervous lilt in his voice. “I’m sorry. Not just the phone thing but everything I said to you last night.” 

You sigh. “Don’t be. It’s just … I’m surprised you remember what you said.”

He takes a breath, bicep flexing when he rubs anxiously at his nape. “I don’t,” he admits. “Jimin told me. It’s in this video he took last night of Taehyung eating cake off the floor, you could hear my voice in the background.” 

“Ah. That explains it.” Your lips pursed. “Did you mean what you said?”

His eyes round and flash to yours. He chews his lip, throws a glance at his feet. “... Yeah,” he whispers. 

“Not just the alcohol talking?”

“No.”

You’re quiet, continuing to stroke Basil who’s still fast asleep beside you.

“Sor—“

“Stop apologising,” you snap. You didn’t mean to, but his shoulders tense, and it makes you wallow in guilt that only he out of everyone has been able to make you feel. You haven’t thought this through and now you’re here you’re saying all the wrong things and asking all the wrong questions. But you remember it’s him, and recollect yourself. “Jungkook - it’s just … it’s just a lot to unpack.” 

You peer up, his nod is slow, but he gets it.

He’s tired, you see it clear as day. See it in the trudge of his walk, the dim in his eyes, and neither of you talk on the way up. Not until you reach his room. 

Despite your protests, he insists you help yourself to his draws for a spare change of dry clothes. It’s with that thought when you realise you still have yet to return several shirts to him with the promise of them all being washed and folded; washed and folded they are, but you never have been great at remembering to give them back. Putting it into perspective - maybe it is a little weird. Weird for two people who fall under the label of best friends. But then again you borrowed clothes from your own roommates all the time to the point you sometimes forgot whose is whose. It isn’t weird. Right? 

While Jungkook goes for a brisk shower, you peel off your soaked clothes, hang them over a spot on his clothes rack. His room is mostly devoid of personal touch, though there are a few photos of his high school football days and some of him and his friends pinned to a board. Otherwise, he’s never had much interest for interior decoration, but he likes his room clean and uncluttered. 

There’s a knock on the door a few minutes later. “Are you …?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I’m done.”

The door cracks open, and Jungkook appears, adorned in another change of clothes. His hair is still damp, fluffed at the patches that have managed to dry and his cheeks are pink from the heat of the shower, but he’s less rugged than earlier. Still tired, though. So tired that you don’t question it when he makes a beeline for his unmade bed and collapses face-first into his pillow. You perch on the edge, pulling his duvet over him. 

He wriggles closer to the wall, like he’s making more room for you to sit. You appreciate the gesture and shuffle closer. Outside, the wind still howls.

“You should dry your hair properly,” you murmur, fingers at the damp ends of his nape. 

“Yeah … prob’ly should,” he sighs, muffled where his mouth is buried in his pillow.

You came here to talk about yesterday night, but maybe it’s a conversation for another time. You out of everyone should know how strenuous it is to have a heart-to-heart while being victim to a hangover that gives you the same capacity as someone half-dead. 

You’re staring blankly at the wall, so occupied with the whistle of the winds, so lost in the strands between your fingertips - that when you peer down you’re met with half-open shining eyes, and a lazy blinking gaze directed upwards at your face.

“Yes?” 

“Nothing,” he murmurs, like clockwork, and buries half his face again into the plush of his pillow. It’s enough time for you to catch the shy tilt of his lips before they hid again. It’s almost ironic, how you’re the one next to him while he nurses a hangover when it’s always been the other way round. Here, he’s so vulnerable. Your mind wanders to the possibility - what if it was the other way around? An alternate universe where it was you who serenaded Jungkook with karaoke and confessed. 

In whatever reality, you imagine him to confront you in the way you did now. Perhaps approached it a little differently, would perhaps be a little gentler, but he would never give you the cold shoulder.

For now, you both pretend there’s been no drunken confession. Best friends, like how it’s always been, and you’ll discuss it all when the time comes.

At some point you’re lowering yourself next to him; your head on the same pillow, and your bodies beneath the same blanket. He’s warm. 

And it’s peaceful, as comfortable as it always has been. 

/ 

“Oh my God, where the hell’s your shirt? I haven’t seen you swim once so far,” you scoff, and Hoseok pulls a sour face.

“You’re talking big for being the one in the string bikini.”

You look at him in disbelief. “Yeah, but I actually used the pool?”

“Scooch over, babe.”

Your eyes roll skyward as he plops beside you on the loveseat. It’s another weekend, another frat, another party, another excuse for Hoseok to walk around without a shirt because there’s a pool. Correction: a further excuse for hoards of frat boys to walk around without a shirt, but at this point you’re desensitised to it.

The music booms, a dull vibration you feel through the ground. 

Kappa Omega is infamous for their extravagant parties (at least, as extravagant as college parties can go). Compared to others it’s vastly over-the-top, with most of the guys getting in through connections just like how their college applications got past admissions, but it is what it is. They’re not all bad people, they hold parties for fundraisers but sometimes it can’t be helped not to feel sour when you see what they blow their money on. The Kappa Omega mansion is so big that you’d spent a good portion of the beginning of the night lost.

“Lucky bastards,” Hoseok mutters. He’s said that several times this evening. He’s only here for the booze and the cheese tray. He pops open another beer, chucks the bottle opener onto the low table in front of him, besides the cheese tray he stole from the kitchen. “Which frat party was it again when you blacked out and dived into the pool fully clothed? I can’t remember anymore.” 

“We don’t talk about that, thanks,” you utter, wrapping your long cardigan tighter around your torso. “Have you by chance seen Jungkook around? I thought he’d be here by now.”

He looks up, mid-way from tipping back his beer. “Yeah, I saw him some time ago.”

“What, where?”

“Sat with some food by himself somewhere.” His arm gestures vaguely. “He looked a little sad. You know, in signature Jungkook fashion, you know how he gets sometimes.” 

Your form slumps. “Right,” you murmur. It’s been over two weeks since the last time you saw him. Not that it’s unprecedented. He has football among other commitments that strung him away for days and sometimes weeks at a time, and you had your own as well.

Be that as it may, somehow it feels like the both of you are drawing the whole thing out. Not purposely, but definitely unnecessarily. Neither of you brought it up in your messages to each other either, and it hit you recently that, well - you miss him. You’ve seen him around campus, but never for too long. Nothing more than fleeting sightings of him and his disheveled hair in a half-pony while he rushes to class after football practice; a hand usually holding onto a snack while the other held onto the strap of his half-open duffel bag, but you only had time to exchange a wave and a look that held promise of your next meeting. The fact remains that you miss your best friend, and it would kill you for your friendship to be awkward because of what happened. You had every intention to talk to him tonight in person, and no dallying or delays this time.

Hoseok’s eyes squint your way. “What’s going on between you guys, anyway. You guys a thing or what?”

You sigh, “That’s the thing, I have no idea yet.” 

“Yet.” His lips purse, contemplating you. “He really likes you, you know. So, like, go easy on him.”

Your eyes narrow. “How long have you known, then?”

“As if it was hard,” he scoffs, sitting back. “Guy wears his heart on his sleeve. You have to be thick as a brick not to notice.”

“Wow. Thanks,” you deadpan.

He stabs his fork into the blue cheese. “You know why him and Yerim broke up?” 

“Oh no,” you morose, frowning, “don’t tell me it was because of me. I talked to her after they broke it off and she said it wasn’t.”

“Not entirely. But I think she was bending the truth a little so that you wouldn’t berate Jungkook about it. She’s a cool girl, really nice and a good sport. Knew you two were close and accepted that like a champ. But -” and he pauses for emphasis. A pause which is seconds too long, and then finally he puts his fork down, clutches one of your hands in both of his, and waits for you until you’re hanging on to his every breath while he chews and swallows the remaining in his mouth. He resumes, brightly, “it’s not my story to tell. So you better go and find him.”

You shove him. Harder this time - enough that he topples over, and he cackles obnoxiously. 

“Prick,” you laugh, but rise to your feet. Your gaze spans the backyard, the pool. You spot a hot tub, but it’s filled with other students who are laughing and raucous. 

“Ok, I’m going,” you announce, glancing at Hoseok who’s still very much captivated by the cheese tray before him. It does look really good. “See you in a bit.”

“Yeah, yeah, bye.”

 /

The problem with knowing so many people, and having the same friends as those people - is that in situations where you try to pull yourself away from yet another drinking game you’re taken by the elbow by someone else. Having all of your mutual friends congregated in one domain that is the Kappa Omega House has made your search for the ever-elusive Jeon Jungkook a grand Pain in the Ass. He’s like gold dust. You’ve texted him but you’ve yet to receive a reply.

“Hey, have you seen Jungkook?”

“I saw him at the front porch a few minutes ago?”

“... Seriously? I’ve literally just been there.”

You even scrambled over a balcony and leaped over a hedge when you tried to get away from Chad’s third invitation to join the game of chicken fight in the pool (a parkour stunt that you like to think would put Peter Parker to shame). You give yourself a quiet moment to catch your breath. 

It’s then you realise you’re in a part of the backyard you swear you haven’t been in before. You can presuppose why. It’s dimly lit, less people, and the boom of the stereo is still loud, but is more of a distant noise in comparison to the other parts of the house you’ve been in. Like what the hell, how big is this place? 

“Sooo, you’ve found him yet or what?”

You hear the voice before you see the face. 

Unbelievable. So you cross paths with shirtless Hoseok for the third time and yet haven’t so much as had a hair’s glimpse of Jungkook. 

“Nope,” you reply, quite miserably, hands stuffing into your cardigan’s large pockets. You feel for your phone. He still hasn’t seen your message. At this point you’re one teetering step away from letting go of the remaining wisps of your dignity and yell his name through a megaphone with a hope he'll come to you instead … you’ve probably done that while drunk before but you’re nowhere near tipsy now, and that’s besides the point. 

Behind you, Hoseok hums, quite serene. When you look back you see he’s lowered his back onto the grass, his eyelids shut.

Eyes scanning this part of the backyard, it’s a different ambience to the atmosphere by the pool. More relaxed. There are students either sat or lying on the grass in small groups, their conversations a low murmur with the occasional twinkling sound of someone’s laughter rising above it. There’s a slabbed stone pathway that leads further up the grass, which then disappears behind a tall row of hedges, and with that you find yourself on your feet again. 

“As much as it pains me to leave, there’s only so much of you I can take in one evening before I go crazy,” you tell Hoseok, who’s unbothered reply is no more than a lazy thumbs up from his spot on the grass.

It gets darker the further away you are from the house, but you’re led by the quiet warm-white glow of the lawn lights that highlight the path. It calms your mind to a lull that puts you at peace, something you desperately sought after your hopeless goose-chase just minutes prior. 

The waters of a hot tub glow blue up ahead. You skid to a stop when you come closer and see someone’s in there; shoulders immersed and their head just above the water’s surface. What’s the phrase? When you stop looking for something, it finds you? That’s probably not how it goes, but it doesn’t matter. After futile searching, hedge jumping and greasy frat boy dodging, you finally found him. Of course he’d be in a place like this.

His eyes are dazed, mesmerised by the ripples in the water that his smallest movements create. He hasn’t yet noticed you coming.

You pad closer. “... Jungkook?” and like a switch, his spine straightens, goes rigid as a ramrod at your voice. He’s blinking, head shaking side to side as if to snap himself out of the trance that clouds his head. 

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” you exasperate.

He blinks. “You … you have?”

You scoff, amused at the way his brows knit. “Yeah,” you sigh, stopping so your forearms can lean on the sides of the tub. “May I join you?”

After a beat of hesitation - “Of course you can.” 

You shrug your long oversized cardigan off of your shoulders, and double check that your phone is still in the pocket before you chuck it in a heap on the bench. You secure your footing on the step, eyes intercepting his own. His Adam's apple bobs when the rest of your body comes into view, and you shiver at the breeze but warmth engulfs you the second you’re in contact with the bubbling water.  

“Feels good?” he asks, and you sigh contentedly, leaning back.

“Yeah.” If you really wanted to, you could fall asleep right here, right now. “What is it with you and hot tubs? Always knew you had a thing for them but never asked specifically why. Or does it just feel good?”

“Mainly that. The guys on my team use the excuse that it breaks up the lactic acid in your muscles after training, but it just feels good when you’re sore.” 

“Huh.” When you crack an eye open, he’s already looking at you. 

His lips purse. “Did you want to talk?” and when you nod he sighs, wearily. “I wanted to, honestly. But I … I guess I never felt ready to hear what you’re going to say.”

You frown. “What do you think I’m going to say?” 

“I don’t know. That you don’t feel that way about me, which I’m fine with. I was never meant to let it slip, but I ended up saying all the things I didn’t want you to hear yet. And while I was drunk, of all things.” 

You consider this, broach your tone carefully. “Were you ever going to tell me?” 

His eyes avert to the water. “... Eventually. It would have been after graduation. No step three beyond telling you, no secret ploy to get you to fall in love with me, I only would have wanted you to know how I felt. I’d leave you alone and we’d finally move on with our lives. And what better timing than after graduation? But that’s not how it turned out, did it?” He laughs, but it’s with rueful discomfort.

“How long?”

He exhales. “A while.”

“I see.” You think hard for a second. “Even when you were with Yerim?”

He gnaws on his bottom lip, but you can tell he’s honest when he replies with, “Yeah. But I never pretended she was you.”

“Of course you didn’t, you’re not that type of person.”

At last, he does smile at that, and seeing the tilt of his mouth settles a warmth in your heart.

Part of you wants to ask what happened between him and Yerim, but you think perhaps it’s for the best you don’t know, at least now. It’s not your business nor his obligation to tell you.

Before you could dwell too much on your oncoming words, you continue barging forward or you’ll chicken out from what you’re going to say next.

“Jungkook,” you begin. “What if I said yes?”

A pause. 

“What do you mean?”

“If you asked me out, and I said yes.”

He’s so bewildered he looks as if he’s just been slapped. Suddenly, something more serious shadows his features. “You know I’d never want you to date me just because. I’m fine with rejection, seriously, I’ll get over it. But I don’t want you to settle for less than what you want. You deserve someone you want, and if I’m not that person, that’s fine. You deserve -”

“Last time I checked, you don’t get a say on what it is that I do and don’t deserve. Who I deserve is for me to decide, so stop cutting yourself so short because you’re more decent than most of the guys I know.”

He shifts, looks away. “So what are you saying?”

“Should we try it?”

“What if it doesn’t work out?”

“Then it doesn’t work out,” you say, simply.

“But then it’ll be awkward.”

“You telling me that you became obsessed with me after I flirted with you for one evening while I was drunk already made it awkward. Not like we have anything else to lose.”

A breath of air expels from his nose in a chuckle. “Oh, ouch.”

“Jungkook,” you sigh. “It’s so easy to be around you. If it doesn’t work out, then it doesn’t work out, but how are we supposed to know how it’s going to turn out if we don’t even give it a chance? It’s going to be awkward either way but we’ll figure it out. Like with all the other crap we’ve gone through. I’ve been with enough guys to know that guys like you come far and few between, I trust you enough to want to do this. You’re one of those few guys I know I can trust, alongside Hoseok. Even though he can be a real bitch sometimes.”

Jungkook doesn’t rebuke you, but he laughs. It’s a sound you’ve never been more relieved to hear. 

“So what do you think? I don’t want to force you into it. If you don’t want this, I’m fine with it. If you do, I’m fine with that too. Everything on my end is fine, so what about yours?”

If him confessing happened a year, or maybe two years earlier, you don’t think you would have confronted it in the way that you’d done now. You understand why Jungkook wanted to bide his time. You’re stubborn, fiery, and don’t think things through in the way that Jungkook does. If this happened two years ago, you can imagine you’d have yelled at him on impulse, asking him why, why he let it happen.

But there’s a very particular fondness you’ve honed for your best friend that has unfurled in the years of your friendship, to the point you couldn’t possibly imagine yourself putting blame on him for his feelings. It seems being friends with him has really mellowed you. While Hoseok is the friend you’re most similar to, your other pea-in-the-pod, Jungkook is the friend who balances you out. Someone so different to you, yet someone who still knows what makes you tick.

He’s a friend who doesn’t judge, but yet is always first to call you out whenever you’re out of line. A friend who waits until you’re inside of your dorm building before driving away. The type of guy who pays for dinner and doesn’t expect you to pay him back. A friend who makes sure you’re back home safely when you’re drunk, puts a glass of water next to you and watches over you to make sure you don’t choke on your vomit in your sleep.

Finally, after careful consideration, he nods. He nods, finally.

“So we’re doing this then.” You crack a smile, and he finds it difficult to suppress his own.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

With an unchanging temper, as still and as serene as waters below the turbulent surface - Jungkook is your anchor, he always has been. The anchor that tethers your feet to the earth when the elements threaten to topple you over.

In the blue glow, you shuffle closer forward on your knees. 

“Can I kiss you?” you murmur, and he chokes on his saliva, spluttering. You smile sheepishly. “Sorry it’s weird, you don’t have to let me if that’s going too fast. I just … I want to see what it feels like.” 

He hesitates. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

He mulls it over, but it doesn’t take much thinking. He stares at you, hard. But then you disrupt the stillness with a disarming smile, and unable to resist, he beckons you over. “Come here.”

It’s odd to straddle his lap at first. In the same way it is when you’re getting on a bike for the first time or any kind of first. He doesn’t make any first move, it’s you who he waits to initiate. 

The path of your fingers trail slowly upwards, until they’re splayed against his chest. They remain there, and you detect the quick pattering of his heart, the rise of his chest. His breaths are deep but they’re controlled, and he feels sturdy beneath you. 

Jungkook is stupid handsome, with the body to match. But that’s not what swells your heart. It’s not what pushes you to move further forward in his lap and finally press your mouth to the seam of his lips before you could think twice.

It’s how tenderly he gazes up at you. With the same sincerity and adoration he’d shown the night he’d confessed drunk. His eyes, an opening to his soul which is a whole other wonder. 

When was the last time someone looked at you like that? 

The kiss is soft. No sparks, no butterflies on your end - not yet, but somehow it still feels right. Like missing pieces that have finally fallen into place. Warmth and love spills from him. It saturates your body to the very tips of your ears, all the way down to your toes, like a slow, spreading glow. It feels good.

When shy pecks don’t become enough anymore, you get needy, touching and grasping for more of him. His palms press against your lower back, massaging the skin there, and eventually your mouth parts pliant for him. 

“Oh,” he croaks, his head leaning forward so his cheek brushes yours. You can’t see his eyes, and you attempt to move but he curtains the planes of his face with his hair. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, having to strain to catch his whisper. 

“I’m embarrassed.”

You chuckle, warmth spreading from the spot on your ear that his lips hover over. “How come?”

“Like, there are probably bricks softer than my dick right now. And … I really, really don’t wanna jizz my pants in a Kappa Omega hot tub. I would have hit my lowest point in life if I do.” 

“Oh my God.” You’re almost crying, shoulders shaking with how hard you’re laughing. 

“Please, I’m so serious right now. I’d never be able to redeem myself.”

“Would jizzing in an obscenely expensive hot tub be so bad?”

“Yes,” he emphasises. “Really bad, actually. Have you heard of that guy who ejaculated in a swimming pool and accidentally got twenty girls pregnant?”

“That sounds like fake news. There’s no way. Sperm aren’t homing torpedoes, Jungkook. They’d be unviable as soon as they’d be in the water. But if you want me to move back, I’ll move back.”

His face is taut, like he’s trying so hard. “Yes, please.” His eyes go stern, but there’s a nervous jitter you feel with the skin beneath your fingertips. “And just because I think it’s worth mentioning, I don’t think we should have sex straight away.” 

“Oh. Right. I see,” you deadpan.

It’s his turn to cackle at the dead-set, disappointed look on your face. “What’s with that?”

Your eyes roll. “You know I’m kidding.” You brush the hair out from his eyes. “Jungkook, will you wait for me?”

His expression softens, and he hoists you until you’re pressed impossibly closer.

“Of course I will. However long it needs to be.”

a/n: when jk says you flirted with me the whole night and i became obsessed w you forever, yea that was from b99

originally posted on ao3! thx for reading!!! <33 

#jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader

[rune-writes]

Of Love and Long-Lasting Connections

Fandom: Persona 4

Word Count: 2982

Rating: G

Summary: Yu's leaving in a few weeks, and Rise wishes she could tell him her feelings.

Note: Another piece I wrote for @thezinearcana that also focuses on love confessions and flower languages

Read on AO3.

~*~*~*~*~

“These are so pretty!” Rise squealed.

It was the weekend and Rise was in Okina City when she spotted a cute little florist on the side of the street. A variety of colorful plants in pots, vases, and boxes stood on display—the pinks and reds and yellows, purples and blues and greens all giving off sweet scents.

Rise crouched down in front of them. Should she bring some back for her grandmother? It’d be nice to liven up the place. Though, maybe not at the tofu shop. The house? She could decorate the living room, or maybe the veranda. She could place them in her room if her grandmother didn’t want them in the house.

As her eyes scanned the various flowers on display, Rise found a cluster of blue ones by her feet. Potted plants, ready to take home. She absently reached over and stroked the small petals.

“Do you like them?” a voice came from above her. A man stood there, just a little to the side, wearing the amicable smile of a salesperson. She noticed the name of the shop on his apron. “Forget-me-nots,” he went on. “A flower of remembrance, they say. Of long-lasting connections.”

Rise smiled, wistful. She knew, though there was one other meaning that made her romantic self long to give them to that boy a year older than her—true love. Maybe he would finally realize her feelings for him.

“Would you like to get them, miss?”

Rise shook her head, rising from her crouch and dusting off her clothes. Turning to the shopkeeper with a bright smile of her own, she said, “I’m looking for something that’ll brighten up a room.”

***

A small bouquet of sunflowers now nestled between her hands as she made her way to the station, their long yellow petals bright under the light of the setting sun. Here, the florist had said. They’ll brighten your day. Had it been that obvious that she was feeling melancholic? She looked down to find the flowers staring back, as though trying to give her an answer. Her lips parted into a smile.

Maybe they really did have magic.

Rise brought the flowers to her face and inhaled the sweet scent. Her grandmother would love these.

“Rise?”

Rise looked up and saw a certain upperclassman with steel gray hair not six steps in front of her. “Y—Yu-senpai?!” Rise couldn’t keep the squeak out of her voice.

Yu smiled at her and she felt more heat creeping up her face.

“Are you here alone?” he asked.

Rise nodded. She waved her sunflower bouquet in front of him. “Bought some flowers for grandma,” she said, and then she looked at him, half-expecting to find the other boys coming up from behind, yelling at him to wait, but there was no one else. Yu was alone.

“What about you, Senpai?” she asked. “What are you doing here?”

A slight pause and a distinct scratch to the back of his neck before he said, “Just some things.” Yu averted his eyes, suddenly finding an interesting spot at a nearby store awning.

Rise blinked, feeling her grin widening at his obvious fluster. “Are you hiding something, Senpai?” she asked. Closing the distance between them, she peered up at his face.

Yu’s dark gray eyes captured her. She noticed the widening of his pupils and realized how close they were. She could almost see her reflections in them, grinning mischievously. And maybe she was being mischievous, probing him with questions she knew would get her farther away from hearing what she wanted. That no, he wasn’t on a date, that she was being ridiculous for even thinking so, that she didn’t have anything to worry about because he had always known how she felt and had always felt the same way. He would never forget about her.

Yu didn’t back away, and neither did she. She could almost feel his breath, smell the scent of pine trees on his clothes. A clearing of his throat brought her back to the present and Rise blinked, leaning back on her heels.

“Are you going home?” he asked. She nodded and he smiled. “Wanna go home together?”

She had thought he would only accompany her throughout the train ride to Inaba, but Yu insisted on walking her all the way to her, even after she told him he didn’t have to. It was a wonder how Rise managed to keep her emotion in check throughout their long walk—her face kept threatening to smile. So she talked about anything and everything to distract herself while he listened. But what started as a light conversation about their days gradually moved closer to the topic of their school, and when they talked about school, it naturally led to talks about their friends, and finally to his transfer.

Rise went quiet. Yu would leave once the semester ended. They only had a couple more weeks.

Just tell him how you feel, Chie had told her.

Easier said than done. How many times had she told him how she felt over the course of the year? How many times had she teased him, hinted that what she felt was real? Yu had never taken them seriously. What difference would it make now?

“Here we are.” His soft voice drew her out of her thoughts and the dark storefront of the Marukyu Tofu Shop stood before her.

“Well,” Yu half-turned, giving her one of those easy smiles, “Bye—”

“Senpai!”

Her voice was too loud, echoing off the pavement in the darkness, surprising even herself. When she looked, Yu was staring at her, eyes wide in surprise.

Be genuine, Yukiko had said.

Rise opened her mouth—

—only for the words to fail her.

Yu tilted his head to the side. “What is it?”

Night had fallen. The dim lights of the streetlamps lit his face in a way that made him seem to glow. The soft bangs falling over his forehead. His strong, high cheekbones. He was too beautiful to her, too precious. She didn’t want him to leave.

Her cheeks strained in what she hoped was her best smile. “Be safe on your way home, Senpai.”

He stared at her, brow creasing for a fraction of a second, but he didn’t pry, and after a while, he said, “It was nice seeing you again, Rise.” Rise blinked. He smiled a wistful smile and she realized this was the first time they had seen each other in a while. A lump formed at the back of her throat.

Yu lingered before he bid her goodbye, just a moment too long, like how her fans wouldn’t leave before she left. But Yu wasn’t like any of her fans, and these little gestures were the things that made her hope for the what-ifs and maybes.

***

Rise watched until Yu’s back was engulfed by the night before she trudged inside her home. Her grandmother came out of the kitchen by the time she had reached the living room, placing her sunflowers in a glass vase and filling it with water. When her grandmother saw it, she beamed. “That’s lovely, Rise.”

Rise smiled, placing the vase on a table at the corner, between the window and TV. “You don’t mind me placing it here?”

“No, not at all.” A shuffle of feet and a moment later, her grandmother joined her by her side. Silence fell as Rise watched her gently caress the soft yellow petals. But then her grandmother asked, “Narukami-kun, was it?” and Rise’s heart, which had begun to find its peace again, jumped at the name. “I heard he’s leaving soon. Is it true?”

She froze.

Thoughts of his transfer had plagued her for weeks. Everyone was sad knowing he would leave, but every time Rise saw Yu walk down the school corridor or waved at her from across the street, she couldn’t stop her heart from constricting in pain and after a while, she found it easier to just avoid him. It had gotten so bad that her usually cheerful self turned pensive every time she joined the others for Yu’s farewell party preparation.

A soft touch to her hand—her grandmother smiled at her, soft and gentle, as if she knew, despite never saying anything.

“It’ll be all right,” her grandmother murmured.

Rise heard the crack before she felt it—a painful gash deep within her heart—and tears sprang to her eyes. She desperately tried to blink them away. She would not cry. She’d told herself not to cry. But her hands began to shake and the effort to keep her emotions repressed seemed insurmountable.

Her grandmother drew her into her arms, strong and warm. A single sob escaped her lips, shaking her to her core, and any resolve Rise had to stay strong fell apart.

There, there, her grandmother whispered. It’ll be all right. She patted her shoulder and whispered soothing words to her ear, while Rise clutched at her back, the tears she had been holding back for weeks streaming down her cheeks one by one.

***

It gave her a catharsis she didn’t realize she needed. Rise didn’t know how long she stayed with her head on her grandmother’s lap, long after her crying ended and she stared into space. It reminded her of the times when she was younger, when her grandmother would hum a lullaby or tell her a story, patting her shoulder to lull her to sleep.

It gave her peace, and courage.

“Don’t dwell, Rise,” her grandmother said. “Even though he’s leaving, that doesn’t mean you can’t see him again, right?”

Rise stared at her grandmother, blinking away the stray tears from her eyes. Her grandmother was right. Why had she never realized that? Of course, her heart was still heavy every time she thought of Yu leaving, but when Chie and Yukiko got everyone together to prepare for the farewell party, Rise found herself smiling more, and laughing more, that Chie even noted that she seemed happier lately.

However, even as Rise slowly found a state of acceptance, when her phone rang early on the next weekend and Yu’s name flashed across the screen, her heart leaped into her throat, caught between excitement and apprehensiveness. She picked it up before the first ring ended.

“Hello?”

“Are you home?” His voice sounded soft and slightly husky to her ear. A smile spread across her face.

“Yeah.”

“Are you free?”

She checked the clock on the wall. It was 8 AM. She promised her grandmother she would tend the store later because her grandmother wanted to visit an ailing neighbor. “I need to tend the store around ten.”

A pause. “Okay,” she heard him say. “Can you be ready in fifteen minutes?”

“What?”

He chuckled. “See you then.”

The call barely began when it ended and Rise watched as her phone screen went dark. See you then? She let the short conversation sink in.

Did he just ask her out on a date?

Rise laughed at herself, even as she pushed herself to her feet and went to her room with a little spring in her step

It wasn’t a date, she thought, opening her drawer and grabbing a change of clothes: a pair of jeans and a warm fluffy white turtleneck.

The others would probably meet them somewhere, she told herself as she pulled her hair back into its twin tails and clipped them into place.

Rise was putting on her jacket when she heard the unmistakable sound of a motor engine approaching her house. Her grandmother was calling for her by the time she reached the front door. Yu was standing there, his breath clouding over from the chill in the air, smiling at her approach.

“Are you going somewhere?” her grandmother asked as Rise kissed her on the cheeks in goodbye.

“I’ll be back before ten,” was all she said before waving her hand and following Yu out the door. She thought they were only going to someplace near, but Yu’s scooter waited outside and Rise had to think otherwise.

“Where are we going exactly?” she asked, catching the spare helmet Yu tossed to her.

Yu’s reply was only a grin. “You’ll see.”

***

Wind whipped at her as Yu sped his scooter up the path to the mountains. Past the hilltop overlooking the town and farther still, until the smooth asphalt turned to gravel and dirt, and the trees turned to pine. Inaba was a small quiet town, where everyone knew everyone else, and you rarely heard any cars zooming past. But there was an underlying bustle different from the city that Rise only realized as Yu brought her deeper into the mountain. This was a sort of quiet she hadn’t experienced before, not when her life in Tokyo had consisted of her, her agency, and her fans.

Rise had her arms wrapped around his waist since he told her to hang tight when he started the engine, and being like this, this close, in a world where there was only him and her and the soaring trees and distant birds, Rise didn’t want this to end. She lay her head against his warm back and breathed his scent. Pine trees and winter. Rise surreptitiously tightened her arms around him. She wished he wouldn’t leave.

They reached their destination a little after they entered the mountains. At a split on the road, Yu took the path that veered off the main, leading them to a narrow and unstable one between trees and he had to slow down. The trees slowly gave away, until finally she finally saw a break up ahead.

“Where are we?” Rise asked, getting off his scooter and taking her helmet off.

Yu answered with a smile and an offering of his hand. It was such an offhanded gesture, so natural he didn’t seem to have put much thought behind it. Yet her heart still soared, even as she told herself not to think too much of it. She took his hand, hiding a smile threatening to break free, and let him lead her past the break in the trees.

Sunlight blinded her for the first couple moments, her hand reaching up to cover her eyes. The wind felt stronger here, the air chillier. A shiver ran down her spine. Rise regretted she hadn’t brought a scarf or worn a warmer jacket.

Yu let out a quiet breath. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

She adjusted her eyes to the light as she slowly brought her hand down. The sun hung low from a clear, cloudless sky. She could feel its heat slowly seeping into her bones. There were no trees or buildings anywhere in sight, just the open sky and a vast rolling hill, stretching as far as her eyes could see.

Rise blinked in astonishment. Small flowers, ones she had seen in the pots at the florist ready to take home, dotted the pale green field in clusters of azure blue. She let out a quiet gasp.

“The jeweler told me about this,” Yu went on. “A flower field in the Inaba mountains, where the flowers would often bloom a little early.” He chuckled under his breath. “He’s right.”

“It’s beautiful,” she said. She felt a gentle squeeze on her hand and she looked down, only realizing that their hands were still linked. Rise giggled to herself. “This feels like a date.”

“This is a date,” Yu replied with a chuckle.

Rise went still. She looked up from their hands and found Yu’s gray eyes already gazing at her with that softness that made her heart skip a beat.

“Here.” He rummaged in his jacket pocket and withdrew a small blue box. “I bought this for you.”

Rise blinked in surprise. She accepted the gift with trembling hands, her heart throbbing in her chest. Part of her waited for the gag, for Yosuke or Teddie or anyone to appear from behind the trees and shout surprise! But no one came, and it was just her and him and the field of blue flowers.

“Open it.”

She did. Inside was a necklace—a small blue flower linked to a silver chain. Tears burned at the back of her eyes and she tried so hard to stop it. She wanted him to see her smile, because she was happy and her heart was full and he gave her a gift she had never expected to receive.

The first tear rolled down her cheek, and Yu’s hand was already there to wipe it away.

“I wanted to buy you a bouquet.” Her voice came out as a whisper and she struggled to keep it steady. “That day I bought flowers for my grandma, I wanted to buy you a forget-me-not bouquet. I wanted to tell you I love you, and ask you not to forget me even after you leave.”

Yu slowly took her hand in his and squeezed. “That day we met in Okina City? I was coming back from the jeweler when you suddenly appeared in front of me,” he said with a soft chuckle under his breath. “I was out of my mind with worry. I wanted to surprise you.” Rise choked back on a sob, caught between a laugh and a cry. She met his gaze and saw a fondness in his smile she would not forget. “Sorry it took me so long to give you a proper reply.”

Rise blinked away the tears blurring her eyes and laughed like she had never laughed before. She threw her arms around him on instinct and smiled to his chest. “Do you know what the flowers mean, Senpai?”

His arms went around her, drawing her close, enveloping her in a warmth that drove away the coldness of the morning air. “Of course,” he murmured with a soft touch of his lips against her hair that only made her smile grow. “I love you, Rise.”

~ END ~

#rise kujikawa #yu narukami #yurise #shurise #persona 4 #persona #fanfiction #persona fanfic #p4 fanfic #loves encounter #persona fanzine #zine piece

[arigatouiris]

was it a coincidence? // shinazugawa sanemi

Author’s Note: Soft Sanemi anyone? I enjoy writing soft sides of baddies because that’s how they areeeee. Anyway, ever since I got to know Sanemi in Kimetsu Academy is a math professor, I knew this was coming. So here it is! Tell me what ya’ll think! 

Word count: 4412

Pairing: Modern! Sanemi Shinazugawa x Reader

Warnings: fluff, mutual pining, soft nemi

❝

For as long as you can remember, your interactions with Shinazugawa Sanemi have been strange. You weren’t one to abruptly jump and exclaim that it’s meant to be or the mere cinematic aspect of him popping up everywhere would actually amount to something. Nah, Sanemi as a person gave you very little to fantasize about. But, it was true and some close to you were noticing it after years.

Sanemi and you shared a fateful relationship that forced you to enter each other’s lives unexpectedly. 

It began with middle school. You never knew Sanemi before middle school, but it was when you joined did you understand that your senpai was someone no one could mess with. He was apparently very kind before—but something had happened that changed him. 

You were in your first year of middle school when Sanemi was in his last, and despite not interacting with him at that time, you knew of him. He was brash, would amount to teasing every single person he came in contact with and would pull pranks on other students. Sanemi was a force as a child, and you started to believe that it would never change.

It didn’t. 

Strangely, you joined your first choice of high school—again, where Sanemi was your senpai. This time, as luck would have it, he noticed you. He gave you a mean glare—the meaning of which you had no idea about—that caused you to whimper and look away, not wanting to run into him. You didn’t know Sanemi was part of the high school you chose, which had a fairly decent reputation. Considering his brash self, you never pegged him for a well-achieving student.

Your interactions were scarce—your ‘senpai, I’m sorry’ whenever you bumped into him (you were part of the newspaper club, you really loved writing and editing, some teased that you’d become the English teacher someday). Sanemi wouldn’t even utter your name, you didn’t even know if he knew your name to begin with, but would click his tongue and ignore you. You took that as a good sign because he normally yells at people who bump into him. 

What caused your fascination with Sanemi-senpai was a small yet brief incident during the school festival. His face, at the time, was scarless, so there was a line of girls who wanted a piece of Shinazugawa meat, not considering the fact that he wasn’t interested. Which was weird, you thought, because he could have any man or woman he so desired. But, that was the thing—he didn’t desire. 

Sanemi was criticized during the festival by a faculty member that he wasn’t taking part in the events his classmates were working so hard for. Begrudgingly, he decided to be the cashier for an event—a cat cafe event—and since Sanemi was good at math, he was asked to count and collect the revenue that came in. You and your good friend decided to pop into the cafe just to see what your attractive senpai was doing. You wondered if you were the only one who found him intimidating, whereas the whole population of girls believed his bad attitude was attractive. You wondered if they found him attractive for the wrong reasons.

     “Look at him!” Your friend cooed, and you did look at him, only to spot him doing absolutely nothing and staring blankly ahead of him with no emotion.

Clearly, he was bored and didn’t want to be there. You turned to your friend and felt several sweat drops on your forehead at her wasteful enthusiasm. You didn’t understand what she was trying to do, was she trying to impress him? 

     “I’m going to ask him if he wants to join us for a cup of coffee.”

Your eyes widened. You put your hands forward and shook your head.

     “I really don’t think that’s a good idea—”

     “Why not? You have your eye on him or something?”

You blushed at the accusation, only wishing for your friend to know that Sanemi isn’t someone who can be impressed so easily. You always believed he’d want something else, a wistful type of want where you desire after something you can’t have—Sanemi had a deep aura embedded underneath all that menacing outwardly appearance, which was clearly not who he was. And here was a girl, your friend, who was completely infatuated with his demeanor. 

     “N-No, I don’t think he can stop or pause midway—”

     “No harm in asking!”

Sometimes, you wished you were as upfront as your friend was. You let out a squeak before praying for your friend. Sanemi would yell at her and it would break her heart and you’d have to do all you could to console her and tell her that it wasn’t her but him. However,

     “Would you like to join us for coffee?” Your friend asked with a smile.

Sanemi looked at her with a blank expression, “No,” 

He turned and looked at your bewildered expression and for some reason, you felt so sad. There was nothing menacing about him right then, there was absolutely nothing scary. In one moment, all your apprehensions about Sanemi flew away, and there was no way you were ever going to be intimidated by this guy again. 

He looked down at the counter and muttered, “If you’ve got nothing to buy, leave.”

Your friend giggled and came back to you, but you stood up this time and approached your senpai. Sanemi grumbled before noticing it was you. You, whose face he remembered since middle school, whose name he kept forgetting, whose only reactions were once whimpers when you saw him, which had gradually changed to softer and hesitant greetings to now this,

     “I’m sorry if she was too forward, senpai.”

Sanemi merely looked at you, reactionless.

     “It’s fine.”

And that was that. You were impressed, and the blooming of a crush was formed. The more you thought of it, the more it didn’t make sense, and the more it didn’t make sense, the more you liked it. 

You’d smile at Sanemi whenever you saw him now, a soft smile reserved just for him, which he’d ignore obviously. You’d often bump into him on the terrace, completing his homework on his own. Your heart went out to him, you knew of his large family and how his father walked away and how he managed two more jobs alongside school to take care of his family.

You wouldn’t say anything, because that would make you friends. Whatever it was that you shared, you enjoyed it. 

Wordless, silent, and comfortable. 

You felt your heart shatter at the mere thought of him graduating, but you knew he had to go. He was selected in a college in Tokyo, for mathematics, and you knew he was going to excel in it. You wanted to give him something, you wanted to take something from him before he left, but it was strange—you knew there was no possible way you could feel something so strongly for him considering you were a mere 15-year old and he was close to being 18. 

But, here you were, tearing up on his graduation day, trying hard not to show how much you grew to like the person he was hiding behind the aggressiveness he normally displayed. 

On his graduation day, you rushed over to him—he was again, avoiding people while being on the terrace. 

     “Shinazugawa-senpai!” Sanemi turned to you with a scowl, which you’d like to believe reduced in intensity upon the mere sight of you, “I... I want to give you something!”

He’d thrown out an entire box of buttons the day before and if you were also giving him a button, he knew he’d lose it. There was no way he was going to—

His eyes widened. You were giving him a pen?

     “I know you like pens. I always find that you have a new one every month... Whenever you complete homework. I just... I want you to have it for college—”

     “Ridiculous.”

You knew he didn’t mean it and giggled at his expression. He took the pen from you and shoved it in his pockets. You knew he’d give it a good long look when you weren’t there. He was looking at you now, his intense glare directing at you, wordlessly.

     “Aren’t you scared of me?”

You shook your head as if you were expecting this question. 

     “Why? I haven’t been nice to you in my life.”

He was right. He was rude, brash and arrogant. He hadn’t been nice to you.

     “But, you haven’t been mean either.” You said, smiling widely.

You heard him scoff before coming forward and ruffling your hair. You felt your stomach flip at the contact, but that was all you could expect now anyway. A second later, you felt him hold your hand, your eyes widening at his action—a gasp exiting your mouth as you felt something cold being placed there.

     “It’s a button...” Sanemi was struggling with this, “From my shirt... The second button.”

It was a gold button—big enough as a small pendant for a chain. You already knew what you were going to do with it. You smiled before accepting it, bowing down and wishing him good luck, saying goodbye hurt but this was nice—you were acknowledged, and so were your feelings. Sanemi Shinazugawa was your first love, and that was that.

*

When Sanemi looked at you for the first time, he thought you were an idiot. 

It was a fleeting gaze, you see a person as you pass the corridors, never to spot them again or remember their face. Some faces you remember because they were prettier than the rest or uglier than the rest. Some you remember because they had a weird hair color or a big nose. Sanemi remembered your face because it looked like an idiot.

Who smiles like that anyway? Like a dumbass with no care in the world? Oh, so birds like you? How childish. He couldn’t waste his time looking at someone like you. You were three years younger than him, you were practically no one. 

When Sanemi looked at you properly for the second time, he was confused. You were once again his junior in high school. It confused him, how you—of all people—you had turned up as his junior in this school. It made no sense. Funnily enough, he didn’t think you were an idiot this time. You were kind of cute but were shyer than before. 

You would whimper whenever he scowled at you, which again, he found a tad bit cute but also insulting. He wasn’t a ghoul for you to look so afraid of him. But, something had changed—he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but things had changed after the school festival.

You voluntarily walked over and spoke to him about your dumbass of a friend hitting on him. He realized that there was no use yelling at girls who found him attractive, because 1) he knew he was attractive, and 2) he really wasn’t interested in them and 3) they approached him more when he yelled at them, and this last point made no sense to him whatsoever. 

But, you approaching him made no sense either. In fact, it confused him more. You would greet him whenever you saw him, sending him a soft smile or a wave, whatever was appropriate at the time. 

Around this time, when Sanemi looked at you, he thought you could be someone he could talk to. You could sit in silence for hours and he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. You wouldn’t try to fill the space with awkward conversation or small talk—two things Sanemi hated the most. You were just comfortable with him when he completed homework, and you read a book or did something else he didn’t quite pay attention to.

He paid attention to the fact that he didn’t pay attention to you, which meant he was paying attention to you. When Sanemi understood this, he wanted to be around you more but his graduation was approaching and it was as if reality was letting him know that it was either too late or never going to happen.

However, he had always been a weird sort of fighter. When Sanemi gave you the second button on his shirt, he took a good long look at you. It was the third time he had allowed himself to give you a long, customary Sanemi-look, which took a mental picture of you for him to remember when you were not around.

When Sanemi looked at you, that third time, he knew for a fact that you would one day become his wife. 

*

There’s no way... You were bewildered, and it was as if fate wanted you to fail in the subject you hated the most. You were excelling in English and that was what you wanted to study. You didn’t want to study anything else, you were, in fact, very happy that you had your entire life sorted out at the young age of 18. You were going to attend college and get an English degree and you were going to teach.

How good is math in your life? Not very.

How good is math in your life if your first love, senpai from the past, senpai from middle school, was the one teaching you?

You were definitely going to fail.

The aura he brought into class as he was introduced as your new class’s assistant faculty was menacing. You had actually almost forgotten what this feeling was—but as soon as he stepped inside, you were reminded of it brutally, as if the aura had never walked out on you at all. He had scars on his face now, a story you knew you’d probably never know. Sanemi didn’t even look at you, you believed he forgot about you; but you stupidly still wore his button around your neck—people often teasing you about a long lost senpai you were crushing on from the past. 

Everyone remembered Sanemi, everyone was scared and no one knew that the button belonged to him. It was a secret you were sure were to take to the grave, but now the chances of that were slim. 

     “This is why I think fate is modulating your interactions with Shinazugawa-sensei!” Your friend exclaimed.

     “It’s nothing like that... I think he just got a job here and it’s paying well—”

     “What if he came back for you?”

You rolled your eyes. There was no way he’d have come back for me, you thought, your heart flipping at the mere thought. You watched as Sanemi walked into another classroom, hearing rumors about how he was incredibly strict with his students. That didn’t surprise you at all, and in fact, you liked how serious he was about the subject he liked. A soft smile sat on your lips and you were lost in thought until—

     “Thinking about Shinazugawa-sensei?” Your friend teased you before you growled and pushed her away playfully.

Once you were alone, your fingers traced the texture of the button he gave you, which was still around your neck like a small charm. You’ve worn it for two years now—the two years he wasn’t there. It wasn’t as if you never had crushes after that, you did. You even had a relationship in school, the cute and fleeting glances, hand-holding and the first kiss. You had your first heartbreak as well when you caught your then-boyfriend sticking his tongue down your junior’s throat.

In two years, you believed you had moved on from Shinazugawa-senpai, no, -sensei, but turns out, your feelings returned tenfold with him just walking into your class. 

     “Is there a problem?” Sanemi growled at one of your classmates, who was asked to solve a question on the board.

You gulped and thanked the heavens it wasn’t you. You definitely didn’t know how to solve the question, and you didn’t want his wrath falling down on you. However, you knew of him and you knew him. You knew he just wanted his students to learn. You watched as he loudly explained how to solve the question, and you unconsciously took down notes, actually paying attention. 

     “Any questions?” He snapped at the class, which was dead quiet.

Your hand went up in the air, bringing down a deathly aura around you. You looked so intrigued, your eyes closed and your hand in the air steady, your lips curved into a soft smile. 

     “I have a question.”

You were sure your classmates were fully intent on killing you and hiding your body, but since the class time was up, no one had the obligation to wait. 

     “Get out.” Sanemi told the rest of the class, and you assumed was the rest of the class because you didn’t budge, as the class exited the room, relieved. 

     “Sensei, my question—”

     “What is it?” 

You stood up and brought your book over, asking him the question. Calculus was very hard, and you weren’t very good at it. Sanemi took one look at your notes and knew you were struggling, but you were trying. He normally hated it when his students were bad at his subject, but then there was you—you, who were really, really bad, but was also trying very hard.

He explained calmly and you kept asking him to repeat—annoying him, making him yell at you, but you patiently listened, looking bashful. When you finally understood, you thanked him, and bowed, causing the button pendant to slip out from inside your collar and dangle. You hadn’t noticed it was showing, but Sanemi had. His eyes widened just a bit before noticing you walk away, causing him to stare at the pen he was using to explain a math problem to you.

The pen you had given him.

He knew of his shortcomings, but it was rare to find a person who wasn’t appalled with his attitude. He was sure of it, though. He’d looked at you properly for the fourth time and thought the same thing he thought when he looked at you properly for the third time. 

*

During your graduation, you missed meeting Shinazugawa-sensei, but luckily for you, he gave you a smirk when the assembly was about to begin. You didn’t know what the smirk meant, but on the rare times you had seen it and your heart flipped, this had managed to do the same once more. You unconsciously touched the button necklace, something Sanemi noticed you do (and he knew what you were doing because he had given you the damn button). 

You attended Tokyo University, Sanemi’s alma mater, for English. It was only for a year, luckily for you, and you knew you were going to have to come back home for your family. You’d look for a job there, but what you didn’t know was one of your old faculty members was teaching in Tokyo. 

     “You should join Kimetsu Academy!” He said, patting your back.

Your heart flipped at the thought of your old school, the school where Sanemi teaches still. He had been your senpai, your sensei, and if you were to join Kimetsu Academy as a TA, he’d be sensei again, but so would you.

Although part of your motivation in joining Kimetsu Academy was teaching in your old school, you couldn’t deny joining Kimetsu for Sanemi. You weren’t sure if he was married now—you were 22 years old, which meant he was 25. You were hyperaware of him and what he was doing and you knew he would be surprised with this move. 

On your first day, you took your time walking through empty corridors. You remembered the locker you used back in school, where you’d place your outdoor shoes and your indoor shoes. You let out a sigh as you walked past your old classrooms, feeling warm on the inside. 

     “How long do you plan on wasting time?”

You jumped and turned around to spot Sanemi, leaning against the opposite wall, looking at you as if you were crazy. Your eyes were wide and you felt like you were going to have a panic attack. Your heart was beating erratically, and your mind was blank. You were not ready to see him yet, you wanted to see him surprised and yet, here he was, surprising you!

     “Shinazugawa-senpai...” You voiced, placing a shaky hand against your heart. “You... You scared me—”

     “You still wear it?” 

You blinked, “Eh?”

Sanemi pointed to his own neck and your eyes widened. Your face reddened and you let out a soft squeak before earning a throaty chuckle from him.

     “H-How did you... I mean—I... It symbolizes the essence of my childhood, it’s... it’s not what you—”

     “Shut up,” Sanemi said, sighing. “Didn’t really think it’d be goodbye for real, did you?”

You blinked, confused. 

     “What do you mean?”

He took one good look at you. The fifth time. And when Sanemi smiled at you, you thought you’d actually die.

     “Life keeps throwing you back to me. Didn’t think it’d be a fucking coincidence, did you?”

     “What did you think it was?”

You weren’t sure why you were so nervous. You weren’t sure why this felt like he was confessing to you. He merely shrugged and walked away, leaving you there with more questions than answers.

A month passed, with bare minimum interactions. You had made new friends, and you were getting better at teaching and handling a noisy classroom. You wore your button necklace with pride, flaunting it almost, sending secret smiles to Sanemi who sent you secret glances in return. Soon, the secret glances were late-evening interactions, when the two of you would stay back to correct answer papers. 

It was one particularly long night when you realized you were utterly and irrevocably in love with Shinazugawa Sanemi. You still had four more sheets to go, and the time was over 8 p.m., in the night. Sanemi was still in the staff room as well, correcting his own bunch of papers—cursing here and there about how terrible kids were at math. You’d generally interrupt with a mild conversation, but Sanemi noticed how you hadn’t uttered a word in over an hour. He paused, noticing how he had one more paper to go, and turned and looked at you.

You were engrossed in reading the students’ papers. You had a stern look on your face, the sternest you could conjure, and you were chewing on the back of your pen—a habit Sanemi hated, but found adorable when you did it. He took a good long sixth look at you right then, your hair messy, your eyes having heavy bags underneath them, your fidgety fingers, and he thought the same thing he thought when he saw you for the fourth time and the fifth time. 

He was so sure you would become his wife. He was so sure. 

But perhaps, the sixth time he looked at you was a bit different. Sanemi felt a strange nostalgia upon seeing you, wearing his button around your neck with pride, remembering how the first time he saw you he thought you looked idiotic even. He hadn’t realized he was watching you for a couple of minutes now, in utter silence, and enjoyed the whole while.

Oh shit, Sanemi’s eyes widened. Oh, fuck.

His mother had warned him about how Shinazugawa men fall in love. They fall rock hard and it would most often kill them. The realization hits them at a young age, they were sure of what they wanted and Sanemi was sure as well. 

But for the first time in his life, he was floored. 

     “Oi,” He let out, a serious expression sitting on his face. “(y/n).”

He had resorted to calling you by your first name, not that you complained.

     “Hm?”

You were paying the papers more attention than him. You really were a good teacher. 

Sanemi stood up and walked over you, you weren’t even aware that he was approaching you, and stood by your side. He looked at the papers, the long answers and the amount of red pouring into them. He looked at your head and leaned down, his mouth right next to your right ear. You shuddered when you felt a breath on your ear, but you didn’t move.

Slowly, Sanemi pressed his lips to your cheek and stood there, waiting for a response. He didn’t want to scare you—he hated scaring you, but he did enjoy flustering you.

You were frozen like a rock when he pulled away. Sanemi wasn’t one to casually give off affection like that, but there were times you knew he could be gentle. You turned slowly, to meet his gaze, his hand supporting him as he bent down to your level. Your face was bright red, but your eyes were intense. 

     “Shina—”

     “No.”

You gulped. You understood him too well to know what he meant.

     “Sanemi-san.”

He grinned before looking at your lips once, twice and then into your eyes before noticing your hands reach up to his cheeks. The sexual tension was palpable in the air, and just as soon as your hands touched his cheeks—he took the plunge. He kissed you, like Sanemi would, rough and passionate—his hands buried themselves into your already messy hair and he kissed you some more. He captured your lips into his own, before pulling out and kissing your jaw, your neck, and your eyes, before plunging and kissing you again.

You gasped when he brought you to a standing position, pulling you closer to him and kissing you harder, but also softer—a compassionate side of Sanemi’s most people were not allowed to see. 

When he pulled away, it was as if you would die if you didn’t tell him.

     “Sanemi-san, I... I love you.”

He knew. He knew it from the third time he had seen you. He grinned before laughing, confusing you, offending you—but you had seen it.

Your eyes widened a tad bit when you saw the adoration he had in his eyes as he looked at you.

The seventh time Sanemi Shinazugawa saw you, he was floored; he was deeply, and devastatingly in love with you.

And while people relied on words to express their feelings, there you were. You were fluent in Sanemi’s own internal language. You had always been. And it had always, always been you.

     “For... For how long have you—”

The question was left hanging in the air for a bit before Sanemi answered how Sanemi would. 

     “Shut up.”

❞

#sanemi #sanemi x reader #shinazugawa sanemi #shinaguzawa sanemi #shinazugawa #sanemi shinazugawa #shinazugawa sanemi x reader #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #wind hashira #Kimetsu no Yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba spoilers #kimetsu no yaiba manga #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kimetsu no yaiba sanemi

[alittleoptimistic]

The Number Six and Other Curses

A Gravity Falls fan fic (a reincarnation AU)

Summary: Though no one knew it, Dipper Pines was born at the exact moment Ford Pines died somewhere in the multi-verse. Twelve years later, Dipper and Mabel’s summer trip to Gravity Falls sparks a flurry of intense nightmares and memories Dipper could not possibly have. Surely, it’s all a coincidence.

________________________________________________________________

Chapter One:  Dreams and Premonitions

Stanley Pines put little stock in religion or fate or all that jazz. He knew a few too many con artists and watched the wheels of injustice and felt lonely maybe a few too many times to believe in God, but he, with the sort of sad wistfulness that colored much of Stanley, sometimes he wished he did. August 31st, 1999, was one of those nights when he was weak.

He pounded up crumbling, damp dirt, a horrid terror gripping his chest like a tentacled beast. He slipped and clawed toward a gleaming red light. A book poked at his ribs and he considered opening it one last time if only to feel okay for a second longer, but the dirt poured thicker, faster, and he couldn’t risk stopping. Heart pounding, he struggled ever upward toward the gleaming red light veiled in mist, but it was too much and he was too tired and they were going to catch up to him! To think, after all this time, this got him. The dirt stuck to his thighs, up to his chest. He clawed upward, desperate to touch the red light, and the dirt clogged his throat, his nostrils, his lungs, with the wretched stench of wet earth. He screamed as it forced him to shut his eyes. It wasn’t fair! He wasn’t done! The weight of it all squeezed him, an ungodly weight, the pain beyond imagination.

Then Stanley was looking down at himself. No, not himself. He flew into the sky, away from wet, grey dirt in all directions, and into the red light, brighter and brighter. The dirt settled, leaving no sign of disturbance. That wasn't quite true. A six-fingered hand reached up out of the earth like a stripped sapling.

No. Nononono! A high-pitched ring rushed through Stanley.

At exactly six AM, Stanley Pines leaped up from the threadbare armchair in his cabin in the woods, scrambling, coughing, choking for breath, and if he was crying, he didn’t notice. “It’s a nightmare,” he heaved. “Jus’ a messed up dream.” He’d had many nightmares like it before. Well, never as vivid or as doomed as that one, but… it happened, sure. Dear lord, he could still feel the weight of that awful dirt on his chest. He could taste it. And then, because he couldn’t stop himself and he was alone, Stan slid to the mat covering the wooden floors and stayed there, eyes blank. The TV blared a M*A*S*H* rerun. It cast green and brown light over the furniture, a wall-mounted rabbit/skunk he glued himself, and Stan’s tightly clenched fists. He breathed in and scrubbed his eyes with the bases of his palms. “Good grief,” he muttered.

It was then that he registered the ringing phone in the kitchen. He considered letting it go. It was six AM, after all. Who the heck was calling him in the night (morning?) anyway? Why did Stan even have a phone? Who had the number? Why six am? Why did this have to happen? What was he forgetting? If he answered the phone and someone told him they had a very special deal for him, he was going to tear the dang thing out of the wall.

Stan struggled to his feet, cracked his back, shuttered, and shuffled in his slippers to the kitchen.

“Stan Pines here, whaddaya want?”

“Uncle Stan! It- it’s happened! Oh my goodness, I can’t even think!”

Stan pulled the phone from his ear. “David? Is that you?” It all came rushing back. Oh! Right! That’s why Stan fell asleep down here in the first place! David’s girlfriend was in labor! “Ey! Congratulations, kid! What’re you gonna name it?”

“Them, rather!” David sounded a little shell-shocked. Giddy, but definitely glazed.

“‘M sorry?”

“Twins, Stan. A girl and a boy!”

Stan blinked. A rather horrible feeling washed over him, a horrible, unfair, selfish feeling. “T-twins? You weren’t expecting twins!”

“No, the doctors are baffled! I’m just- I mean, I’m completely overwhelmed, don’t get me wrong,  we did not prepare for two babies! We only have stuff for our little Mabel and now there’s a boy too! But it’s like, the more the merrier, right? “ He laughed, breathless, “Two kids, Stan! Oh my gosh, how on earth am I supposed to take care of… you know what, I’ll think about that later.”

Stan cleared his throat. “That’s fantastic, Dave!” and he was earnest, really. He couldn’t be happier for his nephew. Even if he and his girlfriend were… quite young. She was older, he believed. Nineteen, maybe?

“Guess twins must run in the family, huh?”

“Guess so.”

“Say, I just got off the phone with Dad. He’s comin’ in with Carrie tomorrow. I know you said you were busy with the Mystery Shack and all…”

The request went unsaid, but Stan knew what David wanted to say. He rubbed the back of his neck. He avoided his family. It was bad enough taking Stanford’s name. He’d rather impersonate him as little as he had too. Luckily for his nephew, David had never known the original Stanford, so it was easier to just be himself around him. He’d planned on sitting this out. He didn’t even know David’s girlfriend- couldn’t for the life of him remember her name. But… the idea of staying in this cabin alone for a minute longer made his head spin. The dream was like a vulture circling around him, and Stan knew, deep in his gut, something he never allowed himself to truly consider. If he ever got that damn portal to work, he would rescue something to lie to rest. His thumb shook on his lip as he pushed the feeling down.

“... I can spare a few days.”

“I don’t want to pressure you-”

“You ain’t pressuring me! I’m coming and you can’t stop me! Twins! Ha! I’ll be there tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? ! Don’t do anything rash, Stan! You don’t have to-”

Stan cackled. “See ya, kid! Rest while you can!”

“... Alright, Uncle Stan. ”

Stan slammed the phone onto the receiver and swallowed. He caught his fussy reflection in the dark kitchen window. He forced a grin, more of a grimace, and patted his disheveled hair. He refused to- No, He didn’t know for certain. “Twins, Ford,” he whispered. “Can you believe it?” His reflection’s eyes grew misty.

Yeah. It was time to get out of this cabin.

________________________________________________________________

   David hated working late, but it happened more and more often. Joe needed help, and he was the only mechanic who was actually half good at his job (if he said so himself) and David needed the money. He’d been right to go to trade school as soon as he found out his girlfriend was pregnant. He was sixteen and a half and that was… well, it sucked, but it was sort of ‘par with the course for the Pine’s family.’  That’s what his dad’s wife said, anyway. He learned later his dad didn’t talk to her for three days after that comment. He did not blame him in the slightest. He didn’t hate Carrie or anything, she just wasn’t his mom and, as such, would... never measure up. She was also an incredible pain in the neck, but that's beside the point. It was a running joke that his dad had snagged a cougar for her money, which had been hilarious until Carrie shrugged airily at the suggestion and his dad turned beet red at the kitchen table, and David suddenly had the thought that oh gosh maybe the joke was- nope. Not going there. He had other things to focus on.

Like his kids and his hot wife and their tiny apartment that she’d turned into something homey and good. It smelled like tacos today. His keys rattled as he set them on the counter and hung up his jacket.

“DADDY!!” came a shrill shriek from the other room, followed by a pitter-patter of feet. A ball of pink giggled madly. He threw her in the air. “Wook, Dad!” She held up a paper… reindeer? Was that what it was supposed to be? “It’s for the chee!”

“For the tree?”

“Yes!! Cissmas chee!”

“You make that in school? I… like all the eyeballs, baby. That’s a lot of eyeballs.”

The kitchen was smoking, and he could hear Anna banging pans. “Mason, four forks! We’re setting the table, remember? Buddy, you can’t carry the- oh dear.”

   Mabel balancing on his feet, David walked through the little living room and into an even smaller kitchen. We’re going to need a bigger house, eventually.

“Hey, honey.”

Anna turned around, Mason halfway picked up, a bundle of cups and forks somehow grasped in the other hand. She pushed a strand of loose brown hair behind her ear with the back of her hand. She was in her scrubs. “You’re home! Dave, it’s almost seven thirty!” Mason squirmed out of her hands and quietly took the cups and forks. He struggled for a moment before sticking the forks into the cups, and then, problem solved, lit up and set the cups and forks on the table. As usual, David was… not getting even a hello from his son.

“Joe had me stay late.”

Anna scoffed, throwing taco meat onto plates and stuffing a taco into her mouth. “e’ can kiss my ah’” She swallowed. “Mabel, we’re going to sit down. It’s tacos!”

“Tacos!” Mabel squealed. “I LOVE tacos!”

“I know, baby. Come on, come on.” She ushered her to the table where Mason was already sitting on his booster seat, attempting to pour himself a cup of grape juice. David joined them, swinging Mabel up into her seat.

“Hey!” Anna yelped, grabbing the bottle of grape juice as it wavered above Mason’s cup. “I said you have to ask!”

“I can pour it myself, Mom!”

“You really can’t, bud,” David volunteered. He got himself a taco and took a bite while scooping meat into Mabel’s tortilla. “‘member what happened in the car seat?”

Mason scowled. But he took the poured cup of juice and accepted the kiss on his forehead by his mother. Mabel hugged her mom around the neck, gushing a very enthused, “Good job for at school, mommy.”

“Thank you, baby.” Anna finally caught David’s eye. Her shoulders relaxed, just slightly, and she gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Love you, babe.” And then into his ear. “Wait up for me.” She squeezed his arm.

Oh, David would.

“And... I’m-” She glimpsed the kitchen clock. Her eyes went wide. “I’m late! I’m late!” She scrambled away. “I love you all! David, don’t forget to load and start the dishwasher! Mason can help!”

“Got it!”

The door opened.

“And their homework! They have… why do they give preschoolers homework- They have homework! Mabel still has to finish-”

“I’ve got it!” David called after her. He leaned forward in the chair to see her through the kitchen. “We’re good! Go!”

She smiled, hastily. And… just like that, she left.

For all of three seconds, the house was silent.

Mabel made a popping noise with her spoon and Mason blinked at her before picking up his own spoon and considering it.

“Okay, okay, let’s not- let’s use the silverware for food, guys.”

Mabel set down the spoon and stabbed the taco. “I’m using my fork for my food!” Mabel said with a grin that revealed the gap in her two front teeth.

“Thank you, I see that.”

“I always use my fork,” came Mason’s inevitable, irritable reply. This was rather typical. He’d probably need to have another talk with him soon. Sometimes they took it for granted that Mason was more… competent than his sister. Not unusually so. He was still a four-year-old. But he could read and he spoke clearer, and he just picked up on more than Mabel did. Maybe it was because he was quiet. He was definitely the microphone to Mabel’s loudspeaker. The two of them were fascinating to watch, if David was honest. It blew his mind sometimes. They were growing into their own little people with their own personalities and quirks. Wild.

Dinner went like it usually did, with Mabel finishing everything and Mason picking through his taco like he was checking it for poison. They cleaned up, and Mason showed David very seriously how his mom liked the dishes in the dishwasher. “No, Dad. You gotta line up the bowls. Like this , see?” David humored him because it made the kid happy.

After dinner, they decided that coloring was a good idea. Mabel needed to finish her homework, and it got finished eventually, though it was a little sparkly.

Mason determinedly drew in the ‘blank coloring book’ (as Mabel said) that he liked. He was an anxious kid, and they’d discovered early on it was easier for him to draw pictures than say out loud what was bothering him. David didn’t have any reason to think they upset Mason, but he had a blue crayon in his fist and his tongue out the edge of his mouth, and he was going at it. Maybe he’d just draw something nice for once.

David almost didn’t want to ask. He doodled a puppy for Mabel, who gasped out loud and took the crayon from him to add “Lots an’ lots of puppies fends.”

Clearing his throat, David dove in. “Whatcha drawing there, bud?”

Mason looked up. His eyes were bright. He shuffled the book around and David’s heart sank a little. It’s okay. He’s got an active imagination.

“This is ‘achnimorph. Like a people spider.”

That was… indeed, what the drawing looked like. Mason was probably going to be rather talented at art when he was older. His dexterity wasn’t great now, of course, but it was clear what he’d drawn. A many-eyed person with eight legs and a massive spider lower half- all drawn in blue crayon.

“Where d'you see that, Massey?”

“I just thought it.”

“You just thought it?”

Mason nodded, unperturbed. He flipped a page. He was leaning halfway across the table in his eagerness to show him. “This is a fairy. They’re mean. This is a cowl.”

“A… cowl?”

“A cow and an owl,” he said, like this was obvious. “They lay eggs with milk in them.”

“Oh.” David didn’t dislike Mason’s… inventions. They were just strange and neither Anna nor David could figure out where on earth he was getting the ideas? Both of the kids got nightmares easily, especially Mason, so they watched little tv, and their teachers assured them they provided nothing that would inspire these sorts of drawings. At least today wasn’t so bad. Anna had called him in a panic when Mason drew a ‘skin couch’ one afternoon, complete with bloody stitching in red marker.

“... it makes the cosmic sand go all,” Mason threw his hands in the air. “And this is my other daddy, and this-”

David straightened. Did he hear him right? He flipped back the page. “What do you mean?”

On the other side of the table, Mabel sighed dramatically and melted down in the chair. She would have to wait.

“Mason?”

Something shifted in Mason’s face. There was a timidity there. He was nervous. “You won’t like it, daddy.”

“I’m not going to be mad. I’m just confused.”

Mason considered this and then pointed at two stick figures. One a broad-shouldered man with a terrifying scowl and square eyes, and the other a stick thin woman. “This is my other mom and dad.”

“Your… other- Mason, you don’t have another mom and dad. You just have me and momma.”

Mason shook his head, “No, before I lived here. In the upstairs house.”

David was… at a loss. They hadn’t moved since Mason and Mabel were born. They’d lived nowhere but here. He must be confused. Was he thinking of somewhere they visited? David took another look at the stick figures, tapping a finger on the table. Suddenly it clicked, and David chuckled. “Mason, that wasn’t your other mom and dad. That’s grandma Caryn and Filbrick. We visited them last summer for Filbrick’s funeral. Caryn’s your great-grandma, not your momma, silly.” Mason didn’t look convinced. In fact, he looked like, if David pressed it, he might burst into tears.  David pushed bangs out of Mason’s eyes, running a thumb over the six-star constellation on his forehead with a light hand. It was a good thing that Mabel chose that moment to knock a bottle of glitter to the floor.

David pushed the instance into the back of his mind, and he didn’t even think to mention it when Anna finally got home to a (moderately) clean house. Mason filled up the little journal, and it ended up at the bottom of his toy chest, and then in a box at the top of the closet. As time went on, Mason stopped with the drawings, mostly anyway. David would find them, sometimes, in the margins of his books, little, idle doodles; eyes with bat wings, faces with too many teeth, that illuminati triangle, bearded ghosts. None of that was worth worrying about. As long as they weren’t bloody- his mother made that rule- Mason could draw what he liked. But even those doodles faded. School was more time-consuming. They moved into a new house (a house they owned!) and if some of Mason’s many journals got mixed up and lost, no one knew about it. If Mason started turning to Mabel instead of his parents after one of his near-weekly nightmares, well, that was just part of growing up, wasn’t it? He was nearly thirteen, after all.

“What was it this time?” Mabel slurred. She was still mostly asleep, her hair spread across her pillow and a wrinkled mark on her cheek. Her plump grey cat was flexing his claws into the blanket beside her head.

Dipper closed the door, shutting off the gold stripe on the carpet. He sat back down on his bed across the room and sipped a glass of milk. It was his go-to for nightmares. His skin was sticky and cold with sweat. He swiped his eyes and gulped down the rest of the glass. “Just the getting-crushed one again. I think. It’s hard to remember.”

Mabel groaned. “You always say that… need some variety.”

“Tell me about it.” Dipper sat in silence, the glass warming in his hand. He wasn’t sure he was ready to lie down again. He didn’t want to blink too slow, in case he saw it , whatever it had been, that scared him so badly. The least his mind could do was let him know what he was so scared of, but apparently that was too much to ask for.

Dipper looked down at the sound of shuffling sheets. Mabel turned to face him. She rubbed an eye with her fist and yawned. “I was dreaming ‘bout summer. We went to Grandpa Shermie’s again, and he gave me caramel but it got stuck in my braces and I couldn’t talk and I wanted to ride the motorcycle with him, but I couldn’t say anything cause… cause a’ the carmel...” Her eyes drooped.

Dipper smiled. He shifted down on his bed, eyes on Mabel, and tucked his blanket up to his cheek. Time ticked past, and before he knew it, the sun was rising. It was the first day of summer vacation.

To be continued...

#gravity falls #fan fiction #reincarnation #au #dipper pines #ford pines #character death #sort of? #in which i talk too much #i got excited about a new thing okay #and i know we're all sad i made ford dead #but its gonna be good and were still gonna see him #pinky swears #gf fanfiction #figured i post this here bc why not #ill probably include a link to the ao3 in the notes

[sunshinejihyun]

Enamored || Lucien

Author’s Note: So! This is my first time writing for Lucien, and I’m only on chapter 11 of the game so I apologize if he seems out of character for him later in the game, this is just how I find him right now.

Summary: Lucien finds love in a place he never expected: the orphanage he volunteered at

Warnings: Brief mentions of familial death, mutual pining, kinda a slow burn?

Word Count: 2568

Masterlist

On your 15th birthday, your present from the world was your parents passing in a terrible accident, leaving you to live on your own. Not too long after your family left you, you got taken in by an orphanage with a kind man as an owner who raised you as he would his own child. Now, at age 22, you were doing all you could to give back to the man who helped raise you, that included continuing to live at the orphanage and donating all your extra time to giving love and attention to all the wonderful children living there now.

As you groaned from being awoken by a soft kick to your stomach, you shoved your head into the thin mattress you were sharing with a child who had taken a particular liking to you. Peony was a sweet little girl with a kind smile, but she was a restless sleeper and you always ended with various bruises from her knocking into you during the night. Taking a deep breath, you rolled out of the bed, going over to the window that overlooked the large gate that kept all of the intruders who wanted to exploit the children out. As long as you remembered, you were completely intrigued with the volunteers who showed up early in the morning on weekends and spent their time reading, teaching, or just talking to the children. Every morning that there were volunteers there, you would wake up early as well and watch as the first group of early rising children ran out to greet the people they’d grown fond of, an endearing grin adorning your face.

This morning was different though; there was a new man in line. His clothes were cleanly pressed and his calculating eyes had a smile within them that you could see from far away. You watched as he bent down in front of a little boy and said something, a soft smile on his face, before the boy jumped up and shouted before throwing his chubby arms around the tall man in a tight hug.

Anxiety bubbled in your chest as the door to the sleeping area slammed open causing you to startle and you turned away from the window, grabbing a book and trying to make yourself look busy. “Is it possible you can start waking up the rest of the kids? They’re going to be sad if they miss visiting hours today..” One of the workers grabbed a broom from the corner of the room and smiled at you as you nodded your head. “Thanks, we’ve set aside some breakfast for you in the kitchen.”

When the worker left the room, you hurriedly went around and tried to wake them up so you could catch another glimpse of the new volunteer who looked so out of place in this environment. And when you did peek out of the window, you swore that the man was looking back at you.

The glances went on for days. Every weekend he would show up bright and early, and you would watch out the window as he greeted the kids before following them inside a room. By then, you also knew that it wasn’t just your imagination. The dark haired man was looking for you -  at you -  and watching, and that brought a flutter to your heart. You knew nothing about this person; you only knew his name from the children who came back chattering excitedly about the newest science experiment he taught them.

When the weather’s a little nicer, everyone would welcome opening a window or two and maybe then you could catch some of the soft words he spoke, but only if he was close enough to a window for the wind to pick up the sound and carry it to you. Until then, you just had to watch and wonder.

The owner of the orphanage silently watched as you curiously snuck around the orphanage, trying to catch a glimpse of the man who intrigued you so and he couldn’t help but smile as he whispered in that man’s ear that there was someone inside that day, looking for someone to help make lunch to feed the children.

You also watched the owner in horror as he whispered in Lucien’s ear before he made eye contact with you through the window, nodded, and started making his way towards the entrance near where you were currently located.

“The owner said you needed some help with lunch today?” His voice came out softer than you’d heard before and your heartbeat sped up. Lucien, noting your flushed cheeks, raised his eyebrows at you before gesturing in the general way to the kitchen.

As you chopped the apples for the children, Lucien started making the sandwiches and you both made idle conversation. You learned that he was a scientist who gave lectures and was researching a top secret project. You told him about how you got taken in here at the orphanage when you had no one and now you wanted to stay and help, to pay back the owner for the years he helped raise you. The conversation never died, it was never awkward with Lucien. One thing you’d say would lead him into talking about something else and vice versa. It was easy with him.

Before you knew it, you'd both worked your way through all the meals for the children and had no reason to continue chatting in the kitchen, so Lucien left to go back to his lab, but not before leaving without your phone number, so he can receive updates on the kids while he’s away, of course.

Late one night a few weeks later, you were awoken by your phone ringing, and you quickly grabbed it to silence it before it could wake the sleeping children. Peony only had just fallen asleep and you’d curse the person on the other end if they were the reason for her awakening.

“Hello?” Your voice came out in a soft whisper and the person on the other end laughed. You knew that laugh anywhere.

“I’m in a bit of a debacle and was wondering if you would be willing to help me out?” Lucien, the always cool and composed Lucien, sounded a bit panicked on the other end.

“Anything,” you responded before facepalming. You always seemed to make a fool of yourself when it came to Lucien and you only wished he didn’t think of you as someone who was silly and immature. “How can I help?”

“I’m actually outside the gates. Any way you can let me in and we can talk face to face?” Without responding, you threw back the covers on your legs and slipped your shoes on before quietly making your way out to where Lucien was waiting.

Sure enough, there he was, looking as dark and handsome as ever and you were thankful it was dark enough outside so he wouldn’t be able to see the flush across your cheeks and neck when you approached. “Are you okay?”

Lucien sighed and as you studied his face closer in the moonlight, you noticed the dark purples under his eyes, only barely concealed by the dark rimmed glasses he was wearing. “I’ve suddenly ran into trouble and can no longer stay at my apartment.” Glancing down at you, his mouth quirked into a small smile. “Do you think you guys have room for one more orphan for a few days? Just until I get back on my feet?”

“I’m sure we can make that work.” You replied before quietly leading the professor inside.

Lucien didn’t sleep at night and you woke up earlier than the rest of the kids in the orphanage, that much you two had figured out quickly. Once Lucien arrived, you had managed to swap beds with a few kids to get two beds next to each other so you both could stay up talking into the early morning. Peony was still right next to you, of course. Between hushed whispers in the early morning, you managed to learn a lot about him and vise versa.

Lucien told you about his hopes and dreams, to become a world renowned scientist and how all he wanted to do was research to make the world a better place. Lucien told you that he had plans to make his way around the world eventually and start a new life in a new place where he could research their lifestyle and help people in need.

What he didn’t tell you was that Lucien noticed every time you would sneak a glance out the window and your face would fall. He knew you didn’t want to stay in the orphanage forever, but felt obligated to the owner. He didn’t bring it up for the first few days but after he felt more comfortable with you, his curiosity got the best of him.

“If you could do anything with your life, what would it be?” Lucien asked, his voice coming out slurred and his arm extended towards you and goosebumps rose up your arm as his long fingers brushed against your shoulder. He had closed his eyes for a few minutes after he asked you, soft snores pouring out, and when he awoke again, you weren’t next to him; you were perched on the low window, looking out longingly. You opened your mouth to protest his questioning glance and he quieted you with a look that could command an entire room. “Don’t try to tell me you’re not looking for something, I’ve seen that wistful look across your face everytime you look out that window.”

You sighed, looking out the window once more before hopping down and crawling in the covers next to Peony before turning to face Lucien. “There’s just something about the outside. From the day I saw you, I was intrigued. Just a glance at you could send my mind racing and think of the possible life I could have led. And sometimes, it feels like that life is looking for me too.”

“What do you mean?” Lucien’s eyebrows were furrowed and you grabbed his hand and held it as close to you as you could..

“I don’t know how to explain,” you replied and you shut your eyes, moving closer to Peony for warmth. Lucien had so many questions, that much was obvious. But he knew you didn’t sleep much, so he dropped them for now, before turning over and hugging himself, his eyes closing as well.

A few weeks after your conversation with Lucien, you decided it was time to go off on your own, ready to live the life you longed for. The one that laid dormant until you met someone who made you want to live.

“Where are you going to go?”

You smiled softly, adjusting Lucien’s jacket so you didn’t have to make eye contact with him. “I’ll be around. Maybe I’ll see you again sometime.”

Lucien gently grabbed your hands, forcing you to look back up at him. “I’m thinking about trying to find a new place to go, a place where I can do the type of research I want without being watched all the time. It’s not a life of luxury but....” He trailed off and you could almost hear him finish his sentence. It’s not much, but it’s better than being by yourself. Lucien twisted his mouth into a teasing smile. “I know my life is better with you around.”

And with that sentence, you found yourself agreeing before you could even think to stop yourself. You wanted to go with Lucien, continue to help people as much as possible and just be free enough to live the life you’ve only read about in books. You’d miss the children and the owner of the orphanage, of course, but you could always visit. Come back to tell stories of your adventures with Mr. Lucien. So with one last goodbye to the place you called home, you grasped Lucien’s hand and began on your new adventure together.

Three months after you left the orphanage, you couldn’t be happier. You made quick friends with the new children in the place that you and Lucien ended up in and ended up taunting them much like an older sibling would. Lucien would watch as he worked with a fond smile and every time you felt his eyes on you, you gazed back before you shared an intimate smile with the other.

Everyone who knew you also knew about your crush on the dark haired man. All the women whose children you watched as they worked liked to sit you down and beg you to ‘just tell him, MC.’ But things were going good the way they were, you and Lucien were friends and you were happy with your new lifestyle, you didn’t want to ruin that by saying something he might find stupid.

There was a quiet air about your professor one day after you two finished work for the day, walking silently back to your shared apartment. “Lucien, are you okay?”

Lucien nodded his head and you sent him a disbelieving look. “I think so. I just, uh. Some of the ladies pulled me aside today.”

Your heartbeat picked up and your mouth went dry. “Really,”

Lucien grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers. After months of knowing him, that soft touch could still turn your knees to jelly. “They told me something,” you looked at him, encouraging him to continue. “It was about you. They told me you have, y’know, a crush on me.”

You dropped your hand from his. Taking a deep breath, you looked him in his violet eyes and felt a slight bit calmer. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to find out. It’s just like I watched you for a while and was intrigued and then when we became friends it just grew into more of a crush and-”

Lucien cut you off by putting a hand over your mouth. “Can you let me finish please?” When you nodded, he dropped his arm and grabbed your hands again. “I’m glad they told me. Do you know why?” You shook your head no and Lucien smiled at you. “Ask me why.”

You sighed, just wanting to get this over with so that you could go home and hide in your bedroom forever. “Why are you glad they told you?”

Without responding, Lucien leaned in and before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, he looked at you for visual confirmation that it was okay. Once you nodded, his slightly chapped lips met yours and before you could even relish in the taste of him, he pulled away. “It’s because I like you too.”

You felt a smile tug on your lips and Lucien’s mouth was almost mirroring yours. “Well that’s an interesting development.”

“I know a good word for how I felt the first time I saw you from the window.” Lucien said and then leaned in to kiss you once more. “Ask me what it is.”

“What was the word, Lucien?” You two probably looked like fools, standing in the middle of the street, both your hands joined with wide smiles that neither of you could wipe off your faces.

“Enamored,” Lucien responded, bringing your right hand up to his lips and kissing the top of it. “Being filled with complete love for something.”

#mlqc lucien #mr love queen's choice lucien #lucien x mc #mlqc lucien x mc #mlqc fanfic #lucien mlqc fanfic #my writing