#i can understand why flor pulls back for a moment

[masonscig]

bittersweet

part two

pairing | felix x flor

word count | 3.2k

warnings | smut. minors dni.

author’s note | so i wanted to write like 2 more parts to this, but honestly... i feel like this turned out great. also yes, i probably should’ve made this a lot shorter, but the prompt got away from me as per usual. not proofread because i’m tired :/ this is for day seven of hot in wayhaven, aftercare!

•─────────────────•

Things have been weird since that night.

She just kind of went back to treating him exactly the same as she had before. She held him at arms’ length like she did with everyone she was wary of letting in.

He was sure that this time he’d made progress.

For the few months leading up till he almost throat fucked her in her dimly lit apartment, she’d been warming up to him.

He managed a few genuine smiles and laughs despite trying less hard to do so. He caught her watching him across the room during meetings, trainings, briefings… anytime they weren’t alone, he caught her staring at least once.

She’d even started asking about him. Any time he was late to a meeting, she bugged Mason with a punch to the shoulder or a scuff of her shoe against the toe of his own.

Didn’t matter how much progress he’d made if it’d just been ruined by one big fuck up on both of their ends.

This particular night, Felix is mulling over the events leading up to when she left, still trying to figure out where things went wrong.

He paces around the room once, twice, before plopping into his giant bean bag chair.

Before he can really settle in there, he’s restless again, jumping to his feet to cross the room once again, climbing into the hammock in the corner.

This isn’t right, either, he huffs to himself, rolling awkwardly out of the hammock and to the middle of the room, flinging himself onto his bed.

He picks up the Gameboy on his nightstand, tap-tap-tapping away on full volume until he hears a single loud thud against the wall across from him.

Abandoning his game of Galaga, he groans in frustration, rolling his eyes at Mason’s feeble attempts to silence him. Tossing the Gameboy to the foot of his bed, he opts instead to grab his tamagotchi, feeding his pet till he’s bored again.

He has lots of things. And these things keep him occupied and hold his attention for a while.

But none of them keep his attention long enough to satiate his wandering mind.

Flor’s been his main focus for a while, but it’s particularly bad this week since she’s taken a vacation for the first time since he’s met her.

It’s not even that she’s a hard worker – she’s just on such bad terms with the captain that she never bothered asking for days off when she knew she wouldn’t get them even if she had plans to get outta town.

Her being on vacation doesn’t bother him at all – it’s the way he’s got unfinished business and he can’t do anything about it.

He can’t seem to think of anything else without her creeping into the back of his mind one way or the other.

He twists off of the bed and walks to his dresser, where his phone’s charging on its surface.

He’s confused. He misses her, he’s angry at her, he wants her –

To say he’s confused is an understatement, really.

He’s been patient, he’s been kind, he’s been understanding – and for her to ignore him for the entire summer?

He’d been counting down the days till they got back to normal. He’s in the hundreds now, and there’s no end in sight.

There’s two endings if he decides to fix it tonight – he’s either getting treated better, or he moves on from her.

The latter option is a painful thought, one he doesn’t give himself time to digest before he taps the number at the top of his favorites.

The phone rings once, twice, and his finger hovers over the end call button. He’s so close to chickening out – this is an awful idea –

“What? Huh?” Flor asks, voice raspy and twinged with sleep. She yawns around her greeting, and he can picture her running a hand through her thick dyed hair. “Who is this?”

Does she really not even have his number saved?

“Uh, it’s Felix. I, um, this is a check in call,” he lies, tensing immediately.

Why’s that his knee jerk reaction? Two seconds into the call and he’s already making excuses instead of standing up for himself.

He really can’t help it, though. She’s so intimidating.

“It’s four thirty in the fucking morning,” she groans. “If you and your little team aren’t gonna respect my sleeping schedule consider any calls from this point on fucking rejected.”

“No, no, I, uh –”

He has no excuses. He can’t lie again… and she already sounds upset, and it’d make the rest of the call even more unpleasant.

“I lied. It’s not a check up,” he sits up in bed, nervously fiddling with the tamagotchi.

“Well then what is it?” She spits, clearly cranky and sleep deprived.

“I have some things I need to say to you, and… I, uh, I don’t know if you’ll like it,” he twists the keychain around his finger, but tosses his little friend to the end of his bed alongside his Gameboy. He needs to focus.

She’s silent. He knows he’s on limited time. 

“I… miss you.”

She goes silent, the static of the phone crackling because of both of their poor signals.

“Thanks.”

The one word response has him silently screaming at himself – he flings himself back on the bed, kicking his legs and flailing.

I miss you. Thanks.

The most embarrassing response he could’ve ever gotten.

“I was gonna say more than that. I’m just… gathering the courage,” he says, takes a deep breath, anchors himself.

“I don’t like how you’ve been treating me, Flor, honestly, and I think you owe me an apology.”

“Oh, I do,” she responds, a deadpan question, nearly mocking.

“Yeah, you do,” Felix bites back immediately, surprised even at himself with how forceful he’s being. “You almost fucked me at the beginning of summer, and now you’re not talking to me? I thought we were, I don’t know, friends at least? I know I’m not your Tina and I never will be, but I want to be there for you.”

“I’m not…” she trails off, and there’s a swishing sound like she’s shifting in bed. “Trying to avoid you, alright? It just seems like that, I guess.”

He can’t stop his hand from clenching into a tight fist, can’t stop it from shaking with rage, can’t stop the venom bubbling up his throat and dripping off his tongue.

“Don’t… tell me how to feel, Flor. I’m upset, so don’t try to downplay it, okay? I know you’re trying to avoid me, and that’s fine, I guess, as long as you, I dunno, let me move on.”

“Move on?” She asks, her tone (surprisingly) cushioned with sincerity.

“Yeah, I, uh,” he stands, striding across the room to the window, and back to the door, pacing (He’s wondering if she’s pacing too). “I like you a lot, but I have to protect myself, too, y’know? If you don’t want me around, you’ve gotta tell me so that I can stop, uh, investing too much of myself into… this.”

“Felix…” she sighs, and quiets. “I know you’re looking for answers, but I don’t have them. I don’t know.”

“So, what, that’s it then?”

“I… yeah. Yeah. That’s it.”

Flor sounds unsure, but he’s not gonna press her further. It hurts, but he has to move on or she’ll consume him in a fiery blaze.

He’s let the flames lick at him, but when it comes down to it, he can’t handle the inferno. He’s walking away before he gets burned, when all he wants to do is be engulfed by her.

It’s easier this way, in theory, but saying goodbye is harder than he’s ever anticipated.

“Bye, Flor. Sweet dreams.”

He disconnects before she can say another word, and he crumples onto his bed, pulling his knees to his chest.

He’s losing another person he cares about, and just like last time, he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Tears are falling freely now, and he angrily wipes them away with a rough backhand.

It’s not her fault. It’s not your fault. You’re just not compatible.

That’s what he tells himself, at least, as he’s drifting off to sleep. He’ll deal with Rebecca and Unit Bravo in the morning.

––––

Flor clutches the phone in her hand, her jaw tight.

She didn’t get the last word, and she sure as hell didn’t get to say what she wanted to say.

Felix was hurting and she couldn’t even manage kindness for one goddamn moment.

No one asks to be emotionally detached – it's just easier that way, for Flor, at least.

Wading through the mess of her apartment, she steps into the bare kitchen. Pours herself a cup of water. Chugs it to clear her head.

When that doesn’t do the trick, she takes a hefty shot of tequila. Bad idea, but the burn gives her a sense of clarity she doesn’t have when she’s completely sober.

You’ve been dragging your fucking feet for years now. Get the hell over it. Go to him. Be with him.

Every instinct she has is dragging her towards the front door where her car keys hang. Another bad idea, as per usual.

Before she can talk herself out of it, she shoots him a quick text. Come over. Please. We need to talk in person.

It’s not the wisest idea for her to face her problems head on, but the tiny, reasonable part of Flor’s mind is telling her she needs to fight for him instead of letting him slip through her fingers.

––––

He doesn’t see the text till an hour and a half after she’s sent it.

It’s just past six in the morning. The sun’s just barely creeping its way into his room, golden streaks across his wood floor.

He assumes she just wants the last word and that’s why she sent it – but an even louder part of him entertains the “what ifs” that are bouncing around his mind.

What if she wants to apologize? What if she wants to hear how I feel? And tell me where her head’s at? 

After going back and forth for a few minutes, impulse wins, and he’s tossing on a vibrant graphic tee and shorts before he sprints out the door. 

Nate’s the only one up, reading the newspaper and filling out the crossword puzzles in the soft lighting of the kitchen, and he shoots Felix a knowing look of encouragement.

Unit Bravo knows how infatuated Felix is with Flor, and they constantly flit between telling him to let her go and chasing after her.

Today’s a good day in that regard – Nate’s given his wordless blessing with nothing but a soft smile.

He’s at her place in ten minutes flat, staring up at the apartment like it’s a creaky, spooky haunted house.

His courage is thinning the closer he steps to her front door. His bones are gelatin, and his brain is equally as mushy.

It’s not an ideal state, but he doesn’t know when he’ll get another chance like this. Get the courage again like this.

Rapping his knuckles against the stained door, he waits. He rocks back on his heels, taps his feet, does anything he can to get the jitters out of his system.

When the door finally does open, his heart leaps at the sight of her.

Her hair’s a mess. Her leftover eyeliner is smudged all around her eyes. Her dark eyes are lined with red from lack of sleep. She looks exhausted.

“You came.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, and steps into her apartment when she gestures for him to come in.

She shuts the door behind him, and this time instead of shoving him up against the door to kiss him, she takes his hand.

Laces her fingers through his own, tugs him toward her couch.

He doesn’t know how to start this conversation, and from the looks of it, neither does she.

“What’s up?” He asks, simply, feeling like an idiot almost instantly for making things that casual.

“I’m…” she trails off, nearly black irises softening when she looks at him. He could live in those midnight pools.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.”

He raises both brows in surprise, and his gaze flits to their hands. She’s death gripping one of his hands with both of hers, her jaw set.

“Uh –”

“I’m getting to the why. I just don’t know how to say it –”

She grunts, shifting on the couch. “I’m not a nice person. You know that.”

“You’re nice in your own way,” he offers, rubbing a thumb over her knuckles.

“God, Felix, I’m a mean bitter bitch. Don’t sugar coat it,” she laughs. “I don’t really wanna be this way, but it’s easier than getting… invested in people.”

“Whaddaya mean?”

“It’s just easier to shut people out than to have expectations for them,” she starts, shrugging. “And having them expect things from you, too.”

“So, what you’re saying is, you don’t want us to have expectations for each other?” He asks.

“I’m gonna say this as bluntly and straight forward as I can, because I don’t think I can do anything else,” she answers after taking a deep, shaky breath.

“I like you. I’m attracted to you. I want you in my life,” she holds his eyes, speaking as earnestly as she can manage. “But I need you to be patient with me. I don’t know how to do… this. I don’t know how to get close to people anymore. Last time I did it was fucking toxic and I told myself never again.”

“Bobby,” he murmurs, and she nods.

“If you want me, too, we’ll both have to compromise,” she continues, stiffening a little like she’s bracing for impact. “I have to get used to the way you do things, and you’ll have to get used to the way I am, too. But I promise you, Felix, I’m gonna try.”

“Try what?” His voice is a little shaky, and she’s coming towards him, slowly closing the gap between them.

“I’m gonna try to love you, if you’ll try to love me,” she whispers, her jaw set again.

That’s all he needed to hear.

He closes his eyes and kisses her sweetly, softly, letting go of her hands so he can cup her face.

She’s so precious to him, so he cradles her face like the gem she is.

“Flor…” Her name’s a quiet promise as it falls from his lips.

I promise as long as you’re trying, I’ll try, too.

She clutches his hips as she kisses him, moaning sweetly into his mouth.

He doesn’t know when she starts slowly tugging his clothes off, but soon enough, they’re skin to skin, and he can’t tell where his body ends and hers begins.

She’s different this time, he notices. She’s more timid. Maybe she’s never been taken care of like this before.

As he bows his head between her legs, he can’t help but wonder if he’ll be her favorite or not.

She’s slack jawed and grasping at his head, squeezing her tattooed thighs around his face.

God, she’s beautiful, all spread out for him – she’s a gift of brown skin (and a pretty pink pussy).

She writhes and pants with each stroke of his tongue, his name broken and garbled on her lips.

When she tugs his head upwards to press sloppy kisses on his mouth, he knows she wants more.

“Flor…” he trails off, feeling sweat bead on the back of his neck. “Do you really wanna do this?”

“Only if you want to, doll.”

God, he can barely breathe. A proposition and a pet name. To most, that’s nothing. But to him, it’s the entire world.

She anchors herself on top of him and settles onto his cock, keeping direct eye contact while she stretches around him.

His eyes are fluttering shut, rolling back, and his head is threatening to loll to the side – she grabs his cheeks between her hand and tugs him back up, her half lidded eyes lustful and determined.

“I want to see you… watch me, and I’ll watch you,” she pants as she flexes her hips, his tip the only part inside of her, but she flexes again, taking all of him (every delicious inch).

“Fuck,” he curses, and she grins, bouncing against him.

He fists his hands at her hips, running a hand up her stomach to rest at the barbed wire tattoos lining her under boob. He can’t figure out what part of her he wants to touch so he opts for it all, squeezing, nipping, kissing every piece of skin his hands and mouth can cover.

“You feel so fucking good around me, doll – fuck me just like that,” she grunts as he bucks up into her.

He’s never been one to have a filthy mouth, but boy does he fucking love it.

The sun’s fully engulfing her living room at this point, the golden glow warming both of their exposed skin already, glistening in the Wayhaven sunrise.

She’s so pretty like this. She’s in her element like this, too. Confident.

The nervous, rigid version of herself was long gone.

She’s opening up to him. Albeit emotionally and physically, she’s trying. She’s blooming for him.

Flor means flower right? She’s finally in season, and it’s worth the wait.

––––

In the heat of it all, they’ve kicked all her clean laundry to the floor, but she grabbed a thin blanket from the top to cover them.

She’s cuddled up to him on the small couch, her head resting on his sweat slicked chest.

They’d been at it for a while when they both finally came. He didn’t expect her to want to cuddle, but they did.

“We probably need to clean up, huh?” she murmurs, soft kisses against his skin.

“Lemme take care of it,” he grins, crawling over her before she can protest.

He’s back in a flash with a damp towel and a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” she smiles, taking the bottle from him. When she tries to grab the damp towel, he holds it away from her.

“Can I clean you up?” He asks timidly.

Flor shrugs, mouth still on the bottle. “Okay.”

He bends to his knees and pulls the blanket away, dragging the cloth gently along her thighs, cleaning up the mess he’s made.

He folds the towel and rubs her stomach and thighs again, before kissing her knee. “You’re so pretty.”

Before he can stand up, she grabs his arm and tugs him back down for a long kiss.

When she pulls back, her eyes are shiny, soft. Midnight pools, and he’s submerged in them.

“I’ve never been fucked by someone who cares about me like you do.”

He grins and pulls her in for a kiss again.

“Well, get used to the feeling.”

He wants every messy, unpolished part of Flor he can get, from her crass humor to her sailor’s mouth.

This is the farthest they’ve ever taken things, yeah, but he’s willing to go further and further with her, as long as she’ll have him.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc #felix hauville #twc detective #hotwayhavensummer #my fic #felix x flor #detective flor majano #n*fw

[averykedavra]

Ready As I’ll Ever Be

It’s late, here you go! Thanks to @becca-becky for the support and Remus jokes! I just needed some more happy Sides, and it kind of turned into hurt/comfort at the end, but I still like it! This fic is on Ao3 here!

Warnings: spoilers for the new ep!! And some nsfw-gore jokes typical of Remus.

Summary: After Roman and Virgil retreat to the common room to gush about Thomas’ new date, they have to confront both the other Sides and their growing worry. Because maybe they’re not ready for this, after all.

Words: 5596

It was quiet in the Mindscape when Roman and Virgil appeared. But not for long.

“--and maybe we should get him flowers, red ones, bring them to the first date--”

“We haven’t gotten a date yet,” Virgil reminded Roman, flopping onto the couch and pulling a pillow to his chest. “Well, a date for the date.”

Roman perched on the top of the couch and pouted. “He said he wanted to!”

“He said he wanted to,” Virgil agreed, his mouth twitching in a smile once again.

“So it’s as good as given!” Roman beamed, waving his hands in circles. “Besides, flowers don’t have to wait for a date!”

“What do you suggest,” Virgil asked, “toss them in his mailbox?”

Roman drew himself up. “Yes!”

“We don’t know where he lives!”

“We could find out!”

Virgil smirked. “Creepy.”

“Romantic!” Roman placed a hand on his chest in affronted indignation, but his smile was still wide. “You just don’t understand love. We place the roses--roses? Roses--the roses in his mailbox, along with a note of our undying affection--”

Virgil huffed and started tugging at the edge of the pillow to work out the bubbly energy in his hands. “Undying affection?”

“Yes! He has agreed to a date, and therefore we must woo him!”

“Sure.” Virgil tossed the pillow at Roman’s face. Roman batted it away with ease. “Look, Princey, I know glass houses and all, but you need to relax.”

“I am relaxed!” Roman screeched. “Perfectly relaxed!”

“Sure,” Virgil said again, grabbing another pillow and worrying it between his hands. Roman was rocking back and forth on the couch now, kicking his legs out, muttering something about “learning the language of flowers so he can convey the message that they are soulmates, bound by destiny.”

“Relax,” Virgil said again, his voice going softer than he intended. “He’ll like us anyway--actually, he’ll probably like Thomas more if he doesn’t send him flowers like a stalker.”

Roman threw back his head and glared at Virgil with no real anger. Virgil scrunched up his nose.

“I want to woo him,” Roman complained, crossing his arms petulantly and balancing even more precariously on the top of the couch.

“You don’t have to,” Virgil said.

“I want to!” Roman waved a hand in a complex motion. “Why would he buy what we’re selling if we don’t woo him? Where’s the fun? Why would he--if we’re not trying to impress him, what if he--”

“Hey.” Virgil sat up and gave Roman a little smile. “He’s--it’ll be okay. Don’t worry about it.”

Roman laughed. “You’re telling me--”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” Virgil threw another pillow at Roman and realized he’d run out of pillows to fidget with. He settled for shifting his weight back and forth and shaking his fists.

“He’ll like us anyway,” Roman said, and Virgil hadn’t heard him sound like this ever since--ever since their ex wasn’t their ex. Soft and fragile and delicate and so...loving. “He likes us.”

“He likes us,” Virgil repeated, a smile spreading over his own face, unbidden. He’d never felt like this ever since their ex. Bubbly and shaky and popping at the edges like fireworks. Sparkles and rainbows and all sorts of stuff that was seriously not his brand. This shouldn’t be safe, this should be setting off every alarm he had, throwing him into panic.

Instead he was just smiling. Smiling like he’d never done anything else. Hands flapping and knees hitting each other and breathless in the best possible way.

Not love, of course. Not yet. But a chance at it.

A chance that Virgil hoped they’d take.

“He likes us, Virgil!” Roman squealed, falling over the back of the couch to land in a pile on the one remaining cushion. He adjusted his sash and let his head droop to the floor, giving Virgil an upside-down smile. “He’s so cute, and nice, and funny, and smart--”

“And supportive,” Virgil added despite himself. “Thought it was cool that Thomas makes videos--”

“His song! The one he showed Thomas!” Roman placed a hand on his heart and sighed. “Pure music.”

Virgil blushed harder. “U-um. You know what--we could probably--duets. We could--”

“Oh my flipping goodness.” Roman’s eyes somehow widened even further. “Oh my hecking heck, by the alluring song of the seductive siren, Virgil, we could do duets with him.”

“We could!” Virgil grinned wildly. “We could sing--sing from--”

His words were getting jumbled. He shook his hands more and bobbed his head, trying to settle all the bubbly feelings. Too many thoughts, and not in the usual overwhelming way--like they were all clamoring for attention and squeezing into every space in his brain. He couldn’t stop thinking, remembering Nico’s smile and twinkling eyes and the exact cadence of his voice. He couldn’t stop beaming.

“Sing from what?” Roman asked when Virgil’s dissolved into a few hums and silence.

“Nightmare Before Christmas,” Virgil said. “You know--”

Roman gasped and Virgil swore he saw stars in his eyes. “Oh my goodness! Thomas and Nico need to do that right now, immediately.”

“I know,” Virgil said, “right?”

“I know,” Roman said, “right?”

They were quiet for a few seconds, grinning at each other, then Roman chuckled and Virgil snickered and they dissolved into giggles. Virgil rocked back and forth, cupping his mouth. Roman did a whole-body shimmy that made him slip further off the couch.

“You look ridiculous,” Virgil managed between snickers.

“How dare you.” Roman stuck out his tongue and tried to maneuver himself back onto the couch, only managing to hit his head on the ground. Virgil laughed even harder and Roman laughed too, sash rumpled and eyes wide, looking at Virgil like Virgil was the reason he looked so happy. Like Virgil had done something right.

Well, Virgil had. Apparently.

He’d made this happen.

He’d put this smile on Roman’s face.

How was he supposed to calm down and stop laughing when he’d done that?

“Nico,” Roman sang, riffing so much it ran through two or three octaves. “Nico, Nico, Nico Flores.”

“Composing a ballad for the occasion?”

“As a matter of fact, yes!” Roman wrinkled his nose. “Nothing rhymes with Flores.”

“Bores.” Virgil leaned back and rested his head on the arm of the couch, still shaking his hands out. “Snores.”

“No, no, it’s Flor-es.”

“Snore-es.”

“He’s not a snore!” Roman retorted. “He’s--he’s perfect.”

“Nah, nobody’s perfect.” Virgil sighed in a sickeningly sappy way. “He’s ours, though.”

“He’s ours,” Roman agreed.

For a second, there was blissful silence, save for Virgil’s happy hums.

“Nico,” Roman sang again, this time sliding up and down the scale. “Nicoooo--”

“Stop,” Virgil said, not really caring too much but feeling he should try and be a little cynical and bitter to offset all the soppiness. Roman stopped immediately. “At least have a tune,” Virgil amended.

“Nico,” Roman sang to the tune of Can You Feel The Love Tonight. “Nico, oh lovely Nico, light of my life, my eternal soul--”

“Please tell me you won’t actually sing this to him.”

“I promise nothing.” Roman waved his hands around more energetically. “Nico, dearest Nico, lovely one--”

“Doesn’t have a tune anymore,” Virgil said, grinning. “You lost it.”

“I’m improvising, Dull Out Boy.” Roman snickered. “Nico, you’re very cool, would you like to come to France--”

“We can’t go to France--”

“But picture it!“ Roman spread his hands. “Soft candlelight, the starry skies over the city, the rush of cars below as the wind whips our hair, a scrumptious meal spread over the tablecloth, his eyes shining as we eat atop the Eiffel Tower--”

“Whoa, hold on, what?” Virgil waved his hands. “You can’t eat on top of the--plus that’s like really high up--”

“Fine, then, we’ll just be looking at the Eiffel Tower.” Roman pulled his hands to his chest and squealed. “Nico though!”

“Nico though,” Virgil agreed. “You’re a sap.”

“You’re a sap.”

“I’m not.” Virgil felt a need to defend himself. “We’re all wired up ‘cause of this. We’re parts of Thomas.”

“True.” Roman laughed. “I bet Specs is completely fine, though.”

“Why?” Virgil asked.

“Well, you know, he’s--” Roman looked more uncomfortable with every word. He petered out with a weak wave of his hands.

“I’m Anxiety and I’m head over heels,” Virgil said. “He’s probably a mess just like you and me.”

“You’re head over heels?” Roman asked, grinning even wider.

“What--” Virgil spluttered. “I mean--yeah, I thought it was obvious--Thomas is--”

“And you’re--” Roman wriggled closer. “You like him.”

“Yeah, duh?”

“You like him!” Roman laughed triumphantly. “I knew it!”

Virgil snickered. “You agreeing with me isn’t, like, a win for you,”

“You like him!” Roman repeated once more. “You don’t like anyone! And you--you like him!”

“Um, yeah.” Virgil flushed and rubbed at the back of his neck. “He’s, um--pretty cool.”

“You’re such a softie,” Roman said, shaking his head.

“Roman,” Virgil complained.

“Oh, was that--” Roman’s smile fell. “I didn’t mean to--was that the wrong thing to say?”

“I--” Virgil jerked upright. “No. Dude. I’m acting silly over this guy. It--it’s fine.”

And, he realized, it kind of was. Just for today. Virgil was a bit soft today, and only Roman could see, and that was alright for now. Virgil was riding high, over the moon, every stupid metaphor in the book. Virgil’s guard was all the way down.

He’d regret this later. Obviously. But hindsight was 20/20 and right now he was enjoying the moment.

“I like him,” Virgil said, blushing but keeping his chin up. “It’s fine.”

“Yeah,” Roman said, smiling back. “So do I.”

“I’ve heard.”

“Hey!” Roman rolled his eyes. “You’re just mad because my song moved you to tears.”

“Tears of laughter, yeah.” Virgil grinned. “Ask Logan for help, he’s better with the rhymes.”

“He’d mock me!” Roman complained. “He wouldn’t understand the love behind every word!”

“Hey, like I said, we’re all sunny and whatnot.” Virgil shrugged. “It’s probably your best chance, if I’m being honest.”

Roman tapped his chin. “No time like the present, right?”

“What?” Virgil’s eyes widened. “I dunno if that’s a good--”

“Specs!” Roman called, waving a hand. “Get in here, we need your help!”

Virgil scrambled into a sitting position and tucked his hands under his legs. Just in time. Logan rose up next to the stairs, notebook in hand, a pen tucked behind his ear and his tie slightly lopsided. His hair was fluffed up a bit around his forehead and he rubbed at his eyes as he turned around to blink at Roman and Virgil.

“Sup,” Virgil said, feeling suddenly a lot less confident. He betted his eyeshadow had gone back to black.

“Specs!” Roman cried, grinning. “Why, hello!”

“What do you need?” Logan asked, folding his notebook to his chest and giving Roman a cool glare. “I’m busy.”

“I need your help!”

“You--” Logan looked taken aback for a second. “With what?”

Roman spread his arms. “Words!”

“Could you be more specific?”

“Words for our precious prince!�� Roman paused. “Not me, but, you know, him. Well, me too, since I’m making the words, they’re just not addressed to me--”

Logan blinked. “What are you talking about it?”

“Oh, he doesn’t--” Roman jumped up and waved his hands. “So! Specs, you’re seriously not gonna believe this--”

“Let me tell it,” Virgil interrupted. “So, we were at the mall--”

“--there was this guy, and he was a ten out of ten--no, eleven or twelve, beyond numbers--”

“--Thomas was being an idiot like usual--”

“--fake with a plastic plant--”

“--guy came out of the bathroom stall--”

“--carrots are still vile and villainous--”

“--and I encouraged his stupidity for some reason--”

“--and now we have a date!”

Logan didn’t look enlightened by their frantic explanation, probably because they were talking over each other excitedly, Virgil starting to flap again and Roman bouncing on his heels.

“Date!” Roman squealed. “Date, Logan. His name’s Nico and he’s so wonderful and--”

“You realize I know all this?” Logan said slowly. “I’m also a part of Thomas.”

“Oh.” Roman stared at Logan. “Oh, right.”

“But you’re not--” Virgil didn’t know how to explain it. Logan looked normal. Kind of pissy, actually. Not like he’d been affected at all--well, maybe Roman was right. Maybe Logic wasn’t affected. He’d been affected with Thomas’ ex, though--did that mean their attraction to Nico wasn’t as full--did that mean there was something wrong--

C’mon, Virgil. In and out. This wasn’t worry time. Not yet.

“Aren’t you excited?” Roman finished. “We have a date!”

“You seem to be covering the excited portion of things,” Logan said cooly. “Besides, it’s not like we haven’t been here before.”

“He’s so cool though!” Roman burst out, rocking on the balls of his feet. “And smart, and he writes poetry, I know you’d appreciate that--”

“I know--” Logan tensed a bit. “Poetry?”

“Poetry!” Roman squealed, doing a little twirl on the carpet. “Poetry, Specs, he’s a poet!”

“Huh.” Logan coughed a bit, and Virgil saw a bit of red on his cheeks. “Well, I--didn’t notice that part. That’s--adequate, I suppose.”

“Way more than adequate!” Roman spun again, arms wide.  “Spiffing and spectacular and supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!”

"Whatever you say.” Logan backed towards the door. “I still am busy, though, so if you’ll excuse me--”

“No, come on, celebrate with us!” Roman darted forward and grabbed Logan’s arm. “You can’t seriously say you’re not happy for Thomas!”

“Of course I’m not,” Logan said, removing Roman’s hand from his sleeve. “I don’t feel happiness.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, but love.” Roman batted his eyes. “True love. How can you scorn it?”

“We’ve known him for less than a day.”

“A wondrous day! Calooh calay!” Roman spun back over to Virgil. “Emo Nightmare knows what I mean.”

“He does?” Logan blinked at Virgil as if registering him for the first time. That made sense. Roman was good at stealing the spotlight. Virgil squirmed under Logan’s gaze, giving him a little salute. “I would assume you were nervous.”

“Well, now that you say it--” Virgil huffed and leaned back into the couch. “This is--cool. He’s--cool. I don’t mind.”

“Huh,” Logan said again.

“See, even our favorite gloomy goober is on board!” Roman clasped his hands in front of his chest. “Please, Specs, can’t you give us your seal of approval?”

“I cannot give you a seal,” Logan said, “surely you could summon one if it was necessary--”

“Wrong seal.” Roman pursed his lips and widened his eyes. “Pretty please?”

Logan’s mouth curled into an incredulous wince. “Don’t. Please don’t do that. Ever again.”

“Aww.”

“Look, I don’t see why you need me to condone any of this,” Logan said, waving a hand. “It’s already happened. You both seem excited. Logic plays no role in these proceedings. It’s clear that my endorsement of this would mean absolutely nothing.”

“To Thomas, maybe,” Virgil said, working up the nerve to address the wrongness he felt welling up. “To us, though--”

“It’d mean we’re doing the right thing,” Roman finished, his voice quiet. “You’re the smart one, right? You’d know if this was--a mistake.”

“Oh,” Logan said softly. “Oh, I see.”

Virgil pulled at his sleeve, avoiding Logan’s gaze.

“So,” Roman said, the word drawn out and fragile. “What do you think of him?”

Logan took a deep breath. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”

Virgil’s hands twisted tighter around his sleeve.

“You already know that I believe Thomas has far too many acquaintances,” Logan continued, looking like he hated every word that came out of his mouth. “A new romantic relationship, despite being the end goal of some humans, would distract him even more. Not only with time spent, but also with emotional capacity.”

Roman frowned. “Yeah, but--”

“It will make my job ten times harder,” Logan said, starting to pace back and forth. “Logic will be figuratively overwhelmed by hormones and feelings, and schedules will be harder to maintain. And what if he affects our future goals? We have a solid career and this could jeopardize it, as a public figure an ill-advised relationship could have serious consequences--”

“Lo?” Virgil asked.

“And don’t get me started on the--ugh--emotional ramifications.” Logan ran his hand through his hair. “Are we ready for a relationship at this scale? What if we aren’t compatible? Most relationships do not last forever, and we would have to navigate yet another heartbreak, which would send Patton into turmoil and once again rob me of any sort of control. With Thomas as fragile as he is, emotionally, it’s a loaded choice to dive into another situation that could make or break his self-esteem--”

“Logan!”

Logan jerked his head up. Roman’s eyes were wide and he’d stopped bouncing.

“I--” Logan took a breath and smoothed his tie. “Apologies. I seem to have--upset you.”

“Don’t,” Virgil said. “I’ve been thinking all that stuff too. It’s fine.”

“And that’s not what I asked,” Roman said. “I asked what you think of him.”

“Him?”

“Nico.”

“Nico,” Logan repeated, and Virgil swore he heard a dip in Logan’s voice. “Nico, he’s--he seems like an upstanding citizen and a good fit for Thomas.”

“Boring,” Roman teased. “Try again.”

“He’s--he’s financially stable to a degree--”

“Try again.”

Logan groaned and rubbed his nose. “Roman, you’re being insufferable--”

“I want to know what you think,” Roman said, his voice achingly soft. “Not Nico’s Pokemon stats.”

“Nerd,” Virgil mumbled.

“Punk,” Roman fired back.

“He’s--” Logan took one more shaky breath, drawing Virgil and Roman’s attention again. “He’s a poet.”

“Yeah,” Roman agreed, a smile poking at his lips.

“He understands music theory,” Logan said, his voice stronger. He tapped his foot on the ground. “He held up an entire conversation about lyrics and diction, and he clearly understands the subtleties of creating an effective song.”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, grinning. “And he let Thomas talk--”

“He let Thomas talk!” Logan agreed. His hand was tapping in time with his foot now. “Even when Thomas was incorrect, he was kind about it, and Thomas was able to teach him things too--he said Thomas was smart--”

“He said Thomas was smart!” Roman gushed, fists balled under his chin.

“He’s smart!” Logan burst out, eyes wide and his hands flying. “He’s smart and he’s capable and he has all sorts of knowledge and we could learn things from him, so many things, and he’d let us--”

Logan trailed off with a wild squeak and a shimmy of his fists, pretty close to Roman’s bouncing. He was flushed, eyes sparkling, and the corners of his lips were definitely turned up. Logan was smiling. Just a bit. And that made every doubt in Virgil’s stomach disappear.

“You like him,” Virgil breathed, because he had to make sure.

“I--” Logan looked self-conscious. “Yes. I like him a lot.”

“Specs approves!” Roman declared, rushing up and grabbing Logan’s hands, pulling him in a circle. “Today is indeed a glorious day--oh, did you see part of his song--”

“The lyrics were extremely well-crafted,” Logan agreed, his voice brighter than Virgil had heard in weeks, his smile growing wider as Roman spun him around and around.

“You like him!” Roman gasped, beaming. “You like him, Specs--”

“Yes!” Logan burst out, and his smile turned into a grin. “Yes, I do, he’s wonderful--”

“He’s wonderful!” Roman echoed, still pulling Logan around the room in a makeshift dance. Logan allowed himself to be led, giggling under his breath, hair falling over his forehead and eyes shining.

“We did it, guys,” Virgil couldn’t help but say, shaking his fists once again. “We did it, we did it--we have a date--”

“A date, and all thanks to you!” Roman swept over and offered a hand. Virgil took it hesitantly and Roman tugged him gently to the middle of the living room. No twirling, but Roman’s huge smile made Virgil just as breathless as if he’d been tugged around. “A date, a date, oh, I’m so excited--”

“I didn’t do much,” Virgil protested, grinning.

“Didn’t do much?” Roman repeated as if Virgil had insulted another Disney movie. “You did everything!”

“There was a problem, and you solved it.” Logan leaned over to Virgil and squeezed his hand, and if pressed, Virgil would never admit how his eyeshadow deepened. “Thank you, Virgil.”

“He’s so flustered!” Roman teased, and Virgil stuck out his tongue and pressed closer to Logan’s side.

“Your eyeshadow,” Logan murmured. “Virgil, it’s--”

“Sparkly? Yeah.” Virgil bit his lip. “You know. Tingly feeling after achieving something you didn’t believe was possible.”

“It looks heavenly on you!” Roman clapped his hands. “Now I want some sparkly makeup, hold on--”

“Focus, Roman,” Logan said fondly.

“Focus on what?”

“I don’t know, whatever you wanted from me originally?”

“Which was--” Roman blinked several times and stuck out his tongue in concentration. “Hmm.”

“Heh.” Virgil elbowed him. “Poetry?”

“Poetry!” Roman twirled. “My good nerd, you understand the need for an epic aria to commemorate this day, correct?”

“I--” Logan raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“And I’m struggling with the rhymes and the reasons.” Roman clasped Logan’s hands to his chest. “I beseech thee, provide me with words that do justice to his wonder!”

“Effervescent,” Logan said automatically. “Vivacious. Pulchritudinous.”

“I have no idea how to rhyme any of those, but it’s a start!” Roman pulled Logan to the couch and tossed himself onto one end. Logan sat at the other end, kicking up a leg on the armrest and already scribbling in his notebook. Virgil took his time sitting on the floor next to them, enjoying just seeing his idiots getting along, swapping rhymes and smiling widely and already spreading bits of paper on the floor.

It was freaking awesome.

So of course it couldn’t last.

In the middle of a long monologue from Logan about the pros and cons of using iambic pentameter, which both Virgil and Roman were dutifully listening to, a bloody heart sailed through the air and smacked Roman in the face.

“Ew!” Roman cried, wiping blood off his cheek. “That��s vile, Remus!”

“You were looking for metaphors, right?” Remus appeared next to Virgil with a manic grin on his face and a notable cavity where his heart should be. “Thomas would tear out his heart for him.”

“Put it back in,” Roman pleaded, shoving the heart at Remus and covering his eyes. “Put it back in.”

“Wow, Ro, you really don’t understand love.” Remus reluctantly popped the heart into his chest, and with a sickening squelch, the skin grew back. “It was beautiful and poetic and you’re sleeping on it.”

“Just because a metaphor would work well in-poem doesn’t mean it fits literally,” Logan said. “What are you doing here?”

“Yeah, we’re busy,” Virgil said, hunching up his shoulders. “I don’t have time for your stupid attention games today.”

“Rude!” Remus complained, scrunching up his nose. “This is a special occasion, calm your tits.”

“A special what now?” Virgil groaned. “Oh no, did you stab Patton again?”

“No, you’d hear the screams.” Remus shimmied. “Thomas has a boyf!”

“They are not officially partners,” Logan corrected.

“Eh, bullsh*t.” Remus waved a hand and flopped onto the carpet, kicking a leg in the air. “Thomas is head over heels over d*ck, googoo gaga googly eyes, a small chicken in the woodchipper of love.”

Virgil winced. “The what now--”

“Which means they’re as good as f*cking!” Remus grinned. “Which means we gotta celebrate!”

“Oh, no.” Roman stared at Remus in abject horror. “You’re--don’t you dare start talking about Nico like--like--”

“Like what?” Remus put on an innocent face that fooled nobody. “All I’m saying is, I’d main him in Super Smash Bros--”

“Nope.” Virgil waved his hands in front of his face and squeezed his eyes shut. “Nope, nope, nope--”

“We’re done here,” Roman announced. “We are done here.”

Logan just sighed.

“Guys, c’mon, we were all thinking it!” Remus rolled his eyes. “He’s a hottie, a hunk, a piece of meat, and I would commit murder for him!”

“Please don’t,” Logan said.

“I would!” Remus sat up and stared at them intently. “I would cut a million throats and watch the blood pool from the bodies if it made him smile. Okay? Okay.”

“You’d do that anyway,” Virgil pointed out.

“It’s different!” Remus folded his arms. “You don’t get it. But I would--I would drive a tractor into a wall for him. I would jump out of a moving car.”

Roman shook his head. “I fail to see how this is different than your usual modus operandi.”

“Because him!” Remus waved wildly at everything. “Him! He’s all, you know--yeah!”

“Yeah,” Virgil agreed reluctantly.

“Yeah,” Logan sighed.

“Yeah!” Roman squealed.

“All I’m saying is,” Remus said, doing another full-body shimmy that made his frills wiggle, “he’s cute, okay? He’s cute. And I would die for him.”

“Then perish,” Virgil said, because he had to.

“He is cute,” Roman said slowly, like he’d just realized Remus was speaking English.

“He is cute!” Remus squealed. “He’s all--and you know--and--”

Then he screeched. A full-blown foghorn wail. Virgil clapped his hands over his ears and Logan scrambled back instinctively. Remus wasn’t fazed. He vibrated up and down and squealed long and loud, eyes squeezed shut, hands in the air. It barely dipped in register and volume, and Virgil wondered if Remus needed to breathe. Wait, of course he didn’t. Which meant he could do this as long as he liked.

And it was really loud, and it was also--kind of--sweet?

Virgil cracked both his eyes open. Remus was still wiggling and squealing and a smile was threatening to burst off his face. Logan was rolling his eyes but giving Remus an indulgent smile. And Roman was looking at Remus with wide eyes, but not the usual ew-Remus-wtf eyes. And Roman was smiling, too.

And Roman squealed.

Roman squealed just as loud as Remus and managing to hit an even higher note. His hands came up and shook in front of his face, and he squealed.

Remus blinked and looked almost shocked, before his smile grew somehow even wider. And they both squealed. It was so loud and should have put Virgil so far on edge that he’d be falling off it.

And yeah, it was loud. Earsplitting, in fact. But not really that bad. Actually, it was kind of nice to see them smiling. Squealing. Vibrating at the speed of light and filling the room with happy noises.

Logan caught Virgil’s eye and shrugged. Virgil shrugged back, half-smiling.

Slowly, the squealing morphed into words. Garbled, choppy words, but words regardless.

“He’s--cute--I can’t handle--” Roman waved his hands wildly. “Cute! Pretty! I wanna--sweet--him!”

Remus nodded so much that he looked like a bobblehead doll. “Cute good very nice.”

“Very very nice!”

“Cute!”

“Cute!”

“Cute,” Virgil added, grinning.

He got a double serving of bright smiles for that. Logan was chuckling to himself, watching Remus and Roman rock back and forth and seemingly communicate through singular words, hand motions, and occasional squeals. Virgil flapped along in rhythm and got another few glittering smiles, and Logan scribbled in his notebook, chewing on the top of the pen and even giving a few encouraging murmurs when Remus and Roman paused in their squealing.

Then footsteps.

Patton dashed into the room, Janus at his heels. “I heard screaming?”

Both Logan and Roman looked like they’d been hit in the face with a pan. Virgil probably looked the same. Remus grinned and waved, but even his hand fell to the ground soon enough.

Dead silence. For an achingly long time, so long that Virgil considered just ducking out. He settled for worrying the laces of his hoodie and staring at his sneakers.

“We were--” Logan opened his mouth, closed it, and swallowed. “There’s no cause for alarm. Roman and Remus were simply excited--”

“Date!” Remus yelled, jumping up and practically tackling Janus. “Date, Janny, and he’s a hottie--”

“Yes, do suffocate me, I didn’t have anything planned.” Janus pried Remus off with a grin. “Congratulations on your boy toy.”

“You helped!” Remus pointed out.

“Hardly,” Janus said, but Virgil knew him well enough to see the proud edge to his smile. “Virgil and Roman clearly had everything under control.”

“Hey,” Roman grumbled.

“He’s so cute!” Remus squealed.

“He’s dreamy,” Patton agreed, sighing.

“He’s certainly--” Janus coughed, his face red and scales gleaming. “He’s. Um.”

“Don’t hide it,” Remus teased, bumping Janus in the shoulder. “We all see your hands flapping.”

Janus looked down at his extra hands, which were twisting in several patterns and shaking around his sides. “Ah. Well--”

“It’s cute,” Patton gushed, doing a twirl and flap of his own. “Everyone’s happy, it’s okay--”

Janus glanced at Roman--and Logan, still silent on the couch--and Virgil, who looked away. His eyebrows pulled together.

“Well, I’ll certainly stick around for the aftermath,” Janus said, stepping away delicately and giving them all one last loaded look. “Have fun, and congratulations.”

“Jan,” Patton said, speaking up for the first time and grabbing his elbow. Janus turned to look at him and they seemed to have a whole conversation with just their eyes. Virgil’s stomach twisted at the sight--they knew each other so well now, and it had only been weeks, weeks of Patton and Janus getting close and Virgil skirting at the edges of their happiness, weeks of being alone--

The happiness in Virgil’s chest flickered and faded.

“It’s good news,” Logan said, and everyone jerked around to look at him. His hands were folded in his lap, but his voice was strong. “We should all celebrate.”

“Sure,” Roman said, an edge to his words, “doesn’t mean we have to do it all together--”

“We’re all parts of Thomas,” Logan said quietly. “We all helped make this happen.”

Roman let out a long sigh.

“Only if you’re comfortable,” Logan added, his eyes skimming over Patton and Janus and resting on Virgil. Virgil squirmed under the eye contact, his hands flying over his sleeves, mind racing.

No. He didn’t want them there. He was celebrating and things would just get weird.

He’d thought that about Remus too, though.

“Do what you want,” Roman said, his voice defeated but just a bit soft. “It’s a big day. I get it.”

Janus swallowed. “I don’t want to--”

“Special occasion, right?” Roman rubbed at his arm. “And you did--try to help. With all those...lies. And I don’t like them. But--like Logan said. You tried to help. And now we have a date, and...it’s only fair that you get to stay.”

“Fair,” Janus repeated, an unspoken question hanging off it.

“Yeah.” Roman looked up, his eyes firm. “You’re a part of Thomas, and for today, let’s--put off all the overthinking?”

Janus pressed his lips together, and for a moment of a second, something soft flashed in his eyes.

“Sounds like a plan,” he said, his face smoothing over.

“Both of you,” Roman added, his voice stretching even thinner as his eyes flickered over to Patton. “That--goes for both of you.”

Patton stared at Roman, eyes wide, hand pressed to his mouth.

“We’re celebrating,” Roman said, waving his hands in something that didn’t really seem all that celebratory. “I’m not going to ruin the moment.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Logan said, giving Roman a loaded look. “Again, if you’re truly uncomfortable with this--”

“I’m ready if you’re ready.” Roman took a deep breath and looked at Virgil, a smile flickering at the edge of his mouth. “Are we ready?”

Virgil swallowed.

Patton and Janus were staring at him, Patton’s expression achingly soft, achingly hesitant. Janus was more guarded, but Virgil could see the hesitance there--he knew Janus so well. And Virgil had changed, and so had Janus, but if they’d managed it once upon a time, that meant they weren’t completely screwed now.

And Patton. Patton, who was practically glowing, freckles on fire and eyes bright. He liked this guy. Of course he did. He was Thomas’ heart--and once again, Patton was falling. Who would Virgil be to leave him stranded? To not catch him, to not steady him, to not pick up the pieces.

And Logan. Logan was smiling a bit, giving Virgil a reassuring look. So supportive. Logan would support Thomas all the way, and Logan would make sure things worked out, and Logan would be their anchor in the storm. Virgil trusted Logan more than he’d trusted anyone in his life.

And Remus. Grinning, bouncing, hanging off Janus’ arm.

And Roman. Smile slowly returning.

Virgil had messed up so many times, and so had they. And here was another chance to do things right. Another chance at happiness.

Sure, it might crash and burn, but that was a worry for later.

“I’m ready,” Virgil said, and found he meant it.

“We can be ready,” Patton agreed, smiling. “If we try.”

And Virgil would try, again and again and again. He’d throw himself into danger and throw Thomas into danger. He’d take every leap and chance and opportunity. He’d fight the world for them--and of course their love needed work, it was rough around the edges and thin in the middles, but it was still good. Still worth another shot.

“Party time?” Roman asked.

“Party time,” Remus agreed.

And that night, gathered around the kitchen table with old streamers and a makeshift pie, almost nobody argued. Almost nobody fought. Janus and Virgil exchanged nods, Janus and Roman kept their distance, and Logan and Patton cooked together, bumping shoulders and smiling.

Not perfect. Not real. Not everything Virgil could dream of. Not yet.

The world was wide open, though, and one day this could be more than his fantasies.

It was a new beginning, and Virgil, for once, wasn’t afraid.

Taglist:

@the17thmeatball

@most-likely-fandom

@csi-baker-street-babes

@caffeinated-cryptid

@thefivecalls

@ollyollyoxinfree

@the-gay-is-back

@dramaticsnakes

@stoicpanther

@chaospersonified

#sanders sides #remus sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #averywrites #ts spoilers

[whirlybirdwhat]

belong among the wild flowers

For kyo for the 2021 Sake Exchange!!!! I hope you enjoy <33333 READ ON AO3 - outsider pov, ‘you’ are the outsider pov, gen, straw hat focus

--

You’re a seller. A seller of flowers that is. Beautiful flowers from seeds grown all over the world, grown by you and your wife – and.

Well.

Grown by you now, but it’s all the same. 50 years and your flowers haven’t lost their vibrancy, only gained. 

This morning you smile, breathing in the cool air so soothing on your old lungs and head out into the fields of beautiful flowers, filled with oranges, blues, pinks, and –

Red.

There’s – 

There’s red in your fields, between the blues and the yellows. 

The reds are the complete opposite side of the farm, by your wife’s grave, because she loved the color so much.

What is red doing here?

“Shishishi!”

Ah.

The hackles in you calm. Its just a boy.

(Your wife had loved children.)

He’s small, thin, dressed in vibrant baggy blue shorts and a red tee, open to display scarring on his chest. His head is turned away from you, black hair flying in the wind to shield his face but –

There is gold upon his head. Golden straw.

Odd. 

(The last man who came here wearing golden straw had died, his death in the newspaper. Oddly, already, you hope this boy won’t be the same.) 

Its wrapped in a red ribbon, bright red. Red doesn’t belong. Red –

“Shishishi!” The boy laughs and turns to her again, smile wide, scar under his eye sloping and wave like, so much more faded than the angry red across his chest. “Ah! Old person! Do you know where these flowers came from?”

You blink. Once. Twice. Eyes darting to the watering can in your hand and to the dirty but lovingly patched overalls you’re wearing, then back up to him. “Come again?” Is all you can say, but he’s already off on a tangent. 

“Ooh! Pretty! Hey, old person, these are almost like the flowers from back home! And the ones on Robin’s flower beds, the ones from where she grew up – Shishishi, I’m gonna take a few, kay?”

And he reaches down, down down and –

“No!” You yell, sudden, grabbing his hand, and hitting him over the head with your watering can. “Don’t pluck those flowers young man!”

“Owwwwww-why do you have haki?” He rubs at his head, eyes wide, and huh. 

Who knew such a scrawny brat could know haki?

“It’s the New World, brat! All old people know haki!” You tell him, a faint whisper of laughter in your voice. “Stop stealing my flowers!” You snap again as his hands snakes out and snaps back with a rubbery twang. 

“But they aren’t your flowers!”

“Yes they are”

“No! They’re Robins!”

“NO!” You shout, forehead to forehead with this boy. “They’re MINE! I grew them! I loved them! They are mine to pluck!”

He stares at you, pulling back, head cocked to the side, before his eyes brighten. You look at him critically as you bend down, easing dirt back into place and burying a worm back into its home. 

“Ah!” The boy shouts, fist landing in his hand. “They’re your dream!”

Your dream…

You haven’t had yours in a long time. 

When you last did, it was with your wife by your side. 

You shake your head at the boy, irritation bleeding into melancholy. “No. These flowers aren’t my dream.” You ease a petal up, gently brushing off dirt and giving it a gentle kiss. Your wife had always laughed when you did that, right before she gave you a kiss as well. 

“What is?” The boy asks, bending down with you, sitting on his heels and now careful – so very careful – not to touch your flowers. 

“Mm?”

“What’s your dream?” His hand drifts to the same petal you are touching, and you look up, and oh – 

There’s earnesty in his eyes. Honesty. A raw kind of hope, a raw kind of belief. He’s open, and you can never understand him, never want to, never will be able to look deeper than that bone deep honesty but –

You know this boy is a pirate. Only pirates chase dreams as honest as this. Only pirates want dreams as honest as this. 

(How old is he? The last pirate you saw was an old man, and the closest to this boy’s age was still a cabin boy. You don’t think this boy is like that – he can’t be. He’s got too much in him for that.)

Your tongue speaks without your bidding, without your permission. 

“I used to have one. Don’t have it now.”

He gives you a look. And maybe – maybe his eyes catch on the lines on your face, the etches of sorrow, the pockmarks and signs of age and the places your wife kissed.  Maybe he knows that you’re a liar as much as this boy is not. 

“Then what do you want?”

Again – your mouth moves without you wanting it to. This boy has power, some strange presence, a compelling to him that you can’t seem to fight. 

“Well, the Duke’s head would be nice.”

The boy nods, standing up, casting a shadow on you as the sun rises behind him. “Alright! I’ll beat up the Duke for you, and then you’ll give me flowers!”

Wait what –

“Let’s go!” Unstoppable as a whirlwind, this boy grabs your hand and tugs you forward, and off you go,  running through the paths of the flowers and determination in his eyes. 

“BOY WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING!” You scream, panicked, watering can left behind. 

“Shishishi!” Is all you get for an answer, a laughter like petal in the end and –

Well.

It’s been awhile since you went on an adventure like this.

-

The boy’s name is Luffy – Monkey D. Luffy.

(There hasn’t been a D. on this island since the last man with a straw hat.)

You learn this because a red-haired girl screams it when you crash into her, raging and furious, leaving Luffy with large bumps on his head. 

“MONKEY D. LUFFY!” She cries, fists raising down and bracelets and log pose catching in the light. “DON’T DO THAT!”

“Owwwww – Nami!” Luffy looks to her, giving her a long reminiscent of puppy dogs and pleading. 

Nami sighs, brushing off dirt from her orange overalls, and gives him her own look, something between terrible fondness and annoyance. “Don’t rocket!” She tells him, before tossing him a tangerine – one of your neighbors, by the looks of it. “Look!”

(You and your wife had walked through the groves when you were young and in puppy love. You had taken a flower and put it in her hair, just as your neighbors’ father had chased you out of the grove for theft. It had been fun.) 

Luffy catches the tangerine, looking it over, then up at Nami. 

“They’re just like Bell-mere’s!” Nami tells him, her eyes bright with something like nostalgia, so different from the rage only moments before. Her enthusiasm is earnest, just like this boy’s, and oh -  they must be crew. “I can’t believe Cocoyashi trees are all the way out here!”

The name catches your attention, with the disbelief, and you smile at her. “Our island, Flors, has plants from across the world – the rarest, prettiest, sturdiest you can think of. Are you from Cocoyashi? Must have been a long time since you saw trees like these.”

She gives you a glance, an assessing look, then tosses her head back and laughs. “No, I have my own trees back our ship. Ah – who are you?”

Trees on a ship? Tangerine trees? What- 

“NAMI!” Luffy interjects, before you can give your name, dancing on the tip of your tongue. “Which way is the Duke?” 

“The Duke?” Her attention switches from you to him in a moment. “There’s a Duke?” You don’t think it’s possible, but her eyes – they seem to turn into belli signs. “Where? Why do you want him? Is he rich?” She’s shaking Luffy now, and you can’t help but let out a laugh, same time as Luffy. 

“Shishishi! If I beat up the Duke, I can get flowers from the field for Robin!” He says, as if it makes perfect sense. It doesn’t. You aren’t sure where he got the idea that you would give him flowers, or that he’ll be able to beat up the Duke, but –

“Okay!” Nami says, brightly, soundly, understanding this wild boy. “I’ll find out where the gold is.”

Gold?

When had gold come into the equation?

“You go ahead – I’m sure if you run around enough someone’s going to come out and yell out you. Then I can have all the Duke’s gold!” In seconds, she’s pulling a staff from her waist, snapping it together and twisting, so that electricity crackles at the top. Her eyes alight, and there’s something dangerous about her. Something a bit deadly, a bit wanting, a bit fierce. “Be done soon Luffy! The log pose should settle by the end of the day, and I want to get out of here before the storm hits!”

Storm?

“Aye Nami!”

You remember deciding that this boy was a pirate, for how he talked about dreams.  You decide this girl must be a pirate, for how she’s unafraid of the storm, the wind, the weather. 

You stare at her, old limbs creaking, bewildered. She reminds you of your wife, when you had first met her, all wild hair and adventure. Something aches, quietly, inside your chest – but, strangely, this time, it isn’t a sad ache. 

Just a nostalgic one.

In  moments, Luffy arm is around yours, and he’s running, your feet off the ground and yourself carried in a side hold. 

“BRAT!” You say, elbowing him with Haki, but this time his own defense is up and you simply have to bear the running for now.

Seeing the island go by, faster than it ever has, you can’t seem to make yourself mad.

-

The next stop is apparently up in a tree, though why you can’t fathom. All you know is Luffy was running and running, and running despite your yells of terror again, and then he stopped, slamming you into his back. It had lasted all but a moment, before he was reaching a hand up and shouting that absolutely dreadful phrase –

“GUM GUM ROCKET!” 

-And dragging you high into the sky, crashing through branches, and into the waiting arms of a long-nosed man. 

He screams. 

You scream. 

He doesn’t drop you though, only settling you on the part of the branch closest to the trunk, and continues scream.

You stop, then start again, because there is a living plant wrapped around him, moving like a wolf, and a bug the size of your head fluttering next to his.  

You are a seller. A gardener. You deal with bugs. Just not the bugs this particular orchard has, because Old Man Johnson is terrifying and likes to collect bugs bigger and bigger than your face. 

Fuck, you think, looking down to the bottom of the forest floor but finding it far too high for your old, brittle legs, even with haki. 

Luffy has no such problem, falling off the branch only to bounce right back up, tumbling into the long-nosed man just as he had tumbled into Nami. “Usopp!” He cries, joy in his face and –

Usopp’s face, morphs from terror to joy and pride and happiness in an instant, his arms coming around to circle Luffy as if this wild boy had always belonged there. It’s sweet. It’s comforting. 

It’s rocking the sturdy branch you are sitting on, and you have no idea how Usopp is managing to keep his balance.

Then you notice the living plant pushing against Usopp’s back, the bug helping, and immediately understand how.

But not why.

Does this man have control over plants or something? A bug devil fruit? His crewmate, Luffy – for what else could Luffy be than his crewmate – has a devil fruit, you think, so it wouldn’t be so surprising.  It’s like magic the way the vines grows and growls, familiar to you in some distant way that you can’t quite name and – 

“Luffy!” Usopp cries, holding Luffy to his chest. “You’re here! When you shot off I tried to look for you, but had to fight a thousand giant flowers first! Each threatening to swallow me whole but I defeated them with my trusty slingshot!”

What? You start to think, something that you think is far too common with these people, before noticing the way Luffy’s face shutters at giant flowers and swallow whole. Odd, you think, odd, but you aren’t the only one to notice. Usopp’s face flicks over Luffy’s with careful affection, cautious notice, and then lunges into another tale. 

“It was after that I stumbled upon these! Look – Luffy they’re just like the island I trained on!” And Usopp shoves a bunch of seeds into Luffy’s face, seeds that split before your eyes and grow into beautiful figures and designs. 

Luffy’s eyes turn into stars as you watch. “OOOOO! From the mystery Island with the plants!”

“Ah Bowin Archipelago Luffy.”

“Bowie Archipelago!”

“Ah, close enough! Anyway – with these I can breed new types of Pop Greens! Like maybe a dragon!”

“A Yeti!”

“A giant tiger!”

“A giant!” They go on like that, trading amazing fantastical thing after amazing fantastical thing, each more incredible with the last, each with full surety that this thing could happen. It’s… its foolishness mixed with childish glee. 

(You remember looking after your neighbors’ children with your wife, watching as they laughed and laughed and laughed. They had the same tender joy that Usopp and Luffy have, though where the children were edgeless and free, Usopp and Luffy’s joy is tempered with age and hard muscle, truth of pirates beyond the fantastical wildness of dreams. Its joy brought into reality.

You wish your wife as here to see it.)

Usopp takes a pause from chattering with Luffy, and also a pause from making the branch bounce far to much for what you’re comfortable with. 

(Your wife had always teased you for your fear of tall, wavering places. It made you smile when you climbed crows nests for her.)

“I do wonder,” the long-nosed sniper ponders, “How these plants got all the way here. The Bowin Archipelago is in Paradise – nowhere near here.”

“Shishishi! Nami’s tangerines were here too!” Luffy tells him with glee. “And Robin’s flowers!”

“Really!? Amazing! Hey – who’s your friend? Do they know anything about this?” Usopp turns to you, gaze piercing like any sniper should.

You gulp.

Then register what he called you. 

“I’m not his-“

“They’re a mystery person!” Luffy cuts in. “I gotta beat up a Duke to get Robin’s flowers from them!”

You would face palm, but that would mean letting go of the trunk.

“A Duke!?” Usopp cries, a mix of fear and readiness. “Did you tell Nami? She’s going to want his money before you beat him up.”

The confidence these people have in this boy – you don’t get why. 

(Maybe you’re starting too. He’s pulled you away from your garden, hasn’t he?)

“Shishishi! Nami knows! She’s gonna get the gold while I beat him up!” 

“Do you even know where the Duke is? What if he’s strong? Terrifying? What if he has a thousand teeth and eyes and wants to eat me for picking his flowers – Luffy you gotta beat him up, you gotta!” Usopp chatters, wavering between fear and terror and sheer bravery. An odd one, this boy is. You like him though. 

“Shishishi! I will!” Luffy promises him, grin stretching wide on his face and promise ready on his tongue, not a doubt in his mind. “Just watch me!”

Usopp melts, just a little. Ease ripples through him, and he lets out a quiet, proud “I know.” Then – he turns to you. “Uh, would you like a ride down?”

Yes. Yes you would. You nod, before Luffy stretches out his hand and oh god not again, your joints are not good for this adventure –

“OI! SHIT HEADS!”

Luffy’s arm stretches back, a laughing tumbling out of his mouth and you turn to your savior.

It’s a man, in the most god-awful shirt you have ever seen, with boat shoes and horrible matching shorts. 

It’s a man, with blonde hair and cigarette and swirly eyebrows shadowing a glare on his face as he holds giant fruits from the seeds of the giant land of Elbalph inn either hand with ease.

It’s a man, who is floating in the air. 

You let out a large squeak but no one seems to notice. 

“SANJI!” Luffy cries, and this must be another one of his man crewmates, and just how many of them are on this island, exploring and racking up havoc. 

You spare a moment to consider how Sanji got over the giant fences Farmer Green had set up. Then you remember, right, he’s flying, and wonder how that’s happening.

Sanji gives a kick, and dodge Luffy’s lunge, letting him fall to the forest floor and bounce back up. “Hey Captain. You guys know where Nami-swan or Robin-chwan are? I found some rare fruits that I can use, and I want to give it a try.”

“Sanji! Meat!” Luffy cries, practically salivating. 

Sanji gives a shrug. “No meat, Captain. Haven’t found anything like that on this island – just plants, plants, and more plants.” Luffy sags where he stands, in a pout so childish, and Sanji’s next words come out in a rush that he tries to play off as nonchalant. “Me and the shit-swordsman can go and cut up a sea king. I think I saw some off the coast.” Here, his tone turns ponderous. “I could make a Sea King platter with this dressing – and palate that with a fruit salad or start shish-kabobbing if we are more pressed for time…”

“And dessert!” A voice pops up, tiny and squeaky, and a racoon dog in a hat pops up from behind Sanji’s shoulder. “You promised me desert!”

“CHOPPER!” Luffy and Usopp cries, and in an instant, the animal is  jumping from where it was clinging to Sanji’s back and into his apparent crew-mates arms. 

“Usopp! Luffy!” The animal cries, holding up his bag. “I was able to restock EVERYTHING I had from the Birdie Kingdom! Even the rare ones that only grew there! I even found the herbs that can help with heart stuff that everyone thought went extinct! This place is AMAZING!” There’s sheer glee in the animal’s – Chopper’s?- gaze and-

Oh dear sweet mother of oceans. The animal speaks. The animal has a name, speaks, and knows medicinal plants.

You want to faint. You want to go back to our flowers. You – you –

Chopper is right next you, holding a vial of spicy something underneath your nose, rescuing you from your faint.

You somewhat wishes he didn’t. You are old and quite done with this, you think. Are any of these folk even paying for what they are grabbing?

“Ah! You’re awake! Make sure to drink more water okay?” Chopper tells you, looking so concerned, and oh, he’s adorable. 

You nod, belatedly, then tune back into the conversation.

“…beat up the Duke for Robin’s flowers!” Luffy is telling Sanji determinedly. 

“Ah! Anything for Robin-chwan!!” Sanji twirls in the air, eyes like hearts. “I’ll help – ah, Never mind. I need to get these to the ship – this kind of fruit supposedly decays within five hours of being cut from the branch, which is why they’re so rare. I think the Duke’s mansion is that way though.” Sanji tilts his head, blonde hair shifting, and gestures to the distance. Luffy follows his line of sight like a dog after a ball. 

“Shishishi! Thank Sanji! Make a biiiiig feast for when we’re done! A party!”

“Alright captain. Chopper!” And Sanji turns to you and the tiny – doctor? Is he a doctor? – and calls over. “You coming with me or do you want to help Luffy beat up a Duke?”

Chopper perks up and turns from you, leaving Sanji to glance over you, mostly hidden behind the very fluffy reindeer. “With you! I want to make these medicines soon as possible so I can get more if needed.” 

Sanji nods, and gives another kick with his legs, keeping him in the air somehow – even with Haki, you have never seen this – and turns to Usopp. “Usopp?”

“Ahhh I would only overshadow Luffy if I went! Too little a job for me!” Usopp crows, hands on his hips, grin on his face. 

“Coward.” Sanji tells him, deadpan clear. You remember the tale this man told at the beginning and wonder what his role on this crew is. 

Usopp squawks but doesn’t deny it to both Chopper and Luffy’s uproarious laughter.  Sanji gives a sly grin, and in seconds, faster than you can tell, Chopper is back on his back and Usopp beside him on the branch. He nods to Luffy, and with a brief “See you, Luffy!” he’s off, kicking his way through the sky.

Usopp stares for a moment then starts yelling again, leaping fearlessly from branch to branch, and you realize, with sudden clarity, that it was not the bravery that was the façade, but the cowardice.  

Luffy’s crew is odd. You just want to wonder how he fits into it all.

-

Luffy takes you on his back this time, scratchy straw placed carefully on his head instead of crushed against your cheek. 

It’s running, so much running, and stretching and stretching.

You have time to think. To wonder. To question.

It builds in you, tumultuous and roiling. This boy – he’s running across the entire island, all for a chance for some flowers. He wants to face the Duke, the Duke who is so terrible, so terribly horrible, just for some flowers. For some Robin.

It’s clear he could so easily take them anyway – you may have haki, but you are no match for the muscles rippling under this boy’s back – but he doesn’t.

You’re dream,  he had said, and it marks him as a Pirate but it just makes you question – 

What’s his dream? Who’s Robin? Why is this straw hat so familiar? Who is he? Cabin boy or crewmate or something more?

You start with the simplest.

“Brat. Who’s Robin?” You ask him as he pauses upon the top of one of Flors’ giant mushrooms. He pauses for only a moment, before turning to you with the most blinding grin. 

“She’s Robin! My archeologist!” My, he says, like she’s his. My, he says, like he’s in charge.

My, he says, like he’s the captain, and suddenly, you realize that’s because he is. 

This boy, smaller than you were when age didn’t bend your back like a willow, with sloping and burning scars, and a smile like the sun – is a captain, the captain of Robin and Nami and Usopp and Sanji and Chopper, and more you haven’t met. A pirate crew in the New World. 

It humbles you, in a way you didn’t expect. 

“She likes flowers?” You ask, instead of voicing why, why does a pirate crew need an archeologist, why do they follow him, who are you straw-hatted boy?

“Yeah! She has a whole garden on the Sunny! And the flowers in your garden are from her home! She showed me a book of them once.” Every word is said with pride, and you wonder how you missed it all before, the way he cried Usopp and Nami and Chopper and Sanji with mine, and love, and protection all those times before. This boy is a Captain.

Then, his words strike you.

Home island.

Those flowers in your garden were from Ohara, given to you by a woman so long ago, a gift from her home island in turn for a glimpse of the stone at the center of Flors. Your wife had loved those flowers.

Ohara is gone now.

These flowers are all that’s left.

These flowers, and Nico Robin.

Oh, you think, oh. 

Straw Hat Luffy, 1.5 billion berry wanted man, laughs from where he carries you, dashing from mushroom to mushroom.

He’s so young, and yet, not really. He’s 19, or so the papers say, and he’s taken on all three of the government strongholds and come out almost on top each time, has fought emperors and warlords, saved kingdoms and islands. He’s young, but not in the naïve way, the childish way. Only the youthful way, in that his face still has baby fat and his smile has crinkles from laughter not rage.

(No one who holds a loved one in their arms like that is young. You speak from experience.

Your wife had been soft and bloodstained when she brush the hair from your face.)

He’s…

This boy – this man…

You have run out of words to describe him.

Suddenly, like before, like in your field of flowers, the words spill from your lips unbidden. This boy has revealed so much by only praising his navigator. You could so easily turn him in. Yet –

“The Duke is a cruel man,” You begin, not really sure if Luffy is listening, not really caring in the end. “He came here ten years ago, drawn by our beautiful, beautiful flowers and plants. He thought he could make a profit, thought he could earn billions from this place and – he – “

Luffy stops moving. 

He doesn’t interrupt. But –

There’s not a lack of care in him. In his eyes as he turns to look at you. It’s a lack of need. 

“I don’t need you to tell me this. The Duke hurt your dream, right?”

You nod, small, quiet. 

“Then I’m going to beat him.”

Simple as that, he smiles at you, not brilliant, not vibrant, but safe. Sure.

(I’m going to turn the world upside down! The last wearer of this hat had cried, so sure, so confidant.

The echo of that – louder and changed and triumphant – is here.)

Luffy moves again, and you don’t speak. You don’t think you possibly could.

-

(Here’s a story, that the future King of the Pirates will never know, but one that draws close to your chest.

You were born and raised on this island, collecting sea grass by the sea, when your wife had washed up on the shore, wild haired and half drowned. You had rescued her, your strange, sea-faring wife, and learned of her travels, her tales, her losses at sea. It’s a miracle she made it to shore.

It’s a miracle she wakes up in your arms, and offers you a kiss. 

You loved her then, and you will love her for the next infinity. She tended the gardens with you, loving the colors and the reds that you had saved her in. She loved and lived and so did you.

Then the Duke, cruel faced and greedy, had shown up, making each of you sell your wares in stead of trade, bringing in outside sales, and taken all of the profit for himself.  

Then the Duke, cruel faced and greedy, had fought your wife who was bold and terrifying and a pirate with her sword still strapped to her waist, even at 30, 40, 50 – 

And struck her down. 

That’s the end of the story, for you are just a gardener, a seller of flowers, with old bones and the haki your wife taught you, who once saw the Pirate King and the archeologist of Ohara, collected seeds from a thousand islands and planted them with care, who had a dream, once, shared with your wife but –

Your wife is dead, and so the story ends here.)

(A boy in straw is here, and so your story blooms.)

-

A voice sings out from the flowers, and it’s with joy that Luffy jumps down, rubber easing the impact that shocks up your back, to sing with a skeleton.

A skeleton, who has an afro and a guitar and who can sing.  

“Yohohohoho!” The skeleton laughs, melodious even without vocal chords. “Hello Luffy!”

“Brook!” Luffy smiles, “Franky!”

Who –

“YEOW LITTLE BRO! Isn’t this island SUPER!?”

A singing skeleton, and a cyborg, with a hair shaped into sunflowers. Sunflowers.

If it weren’t for the sting of the vial still sniffling in your nose, you think you would pass out again. The New World is weird – but not this weird.

Dear mother sea almighty – these two tower, yet are dressed in sparkling floral patterns and shirts. 

Luffy jumps into their arms without hesitation, setting you down just before he does in the first time since the tree and the other members of his crew. The cyborg – Franky, you think, by Luffy’s laughter – catches him easily, swinging him about and finally settling him on his shoulder, where the skeleton, Brook, places a crown of flowers around his hat.

It’s sweet, with love and adoration in every motion. This whole crew is like that, and it hurts you, emboldens you, does to you a thousand things to see them be like that. Loving, without restraints, without fear, whole and happy. It is incredible that this boy, only a teen, this man has been able to gather to him such authority, such power, such loyalty.

It warms you, you think. 

(It strikes a chord in you, you think, of something like jealous but not all at once. You want this, but you will never be a part of this crew, and you never wanted to have this, never knew it was missing before this but – here it is. 

Without you.

You miss your wife.) 

“Who’s this, Luffy?” Franky asks, gesturing to you with a large red hand. Flowers are painted over it, in the colors that the children use to paint the fences. Little handprints scatter about, and its obvious that these two had had a run in with the children of the island, and cared for them, gentle and loving. 

“Shishishi! They have the flowers Robin likes! From her island! I’m gonna beat up the Duke for them so I can get the flowers!”

It’s an old routine by now. You still don’t quite believe he can do it, no matter that you know he has beaten billion belli pirates and warlords and emperors. He’s just – The Duke is –

“Sounds perfect, Luffy! We beat a few of the Duke’s ah, lovely gentlemen there.” And the skeleton waves his hand to the path behind him, sweeped beneath giant flowers, to where bodies lay in the ground, bloody, barely breathing, and decidedly unconscious. 

All covered in the white uniform of the Duke’s men.

Oh, you think, feeling familiar rage bubble up at the sight of them. Oh. 

“They were picking on some SUPER kids! Had to put a stop to it, knew you wouldn’t mind.” Franky enunciates, striking a pose. “Zoro helped out, but we lost him when we turned away for a second.”

“He really blends in with all this green, Yohohohoho!” Brook snickers, and you remember bounty posters with a piercing glare and green hair and none too little blood, and wonder how you lose an entire ex-bounty hunter turned pirate.

You don’t think you will ever know what these people are. Ever. 

“Shishishi! We’ll find him!” Luffy reassures, already grabbing onto you again. 

“Bro, you’re just as bad!” Franky tells him, and you wonder with what? Before Luffy has hauled you onto your back.

(Maybe you should invest in hiring someone to do this. You haven’t been off your feet so much in YEARS.) 

“Shishishi! Bye Franky! Bye Brook!” Luffy shouts, ignoring his crew and dashing off into the woods yet again. “Sanji’s throwing a feast after I beat the Duke!” 

You leave the clearing, bouncing through sunflowers, to the sounds of cheers of “Knock ‘em dead Luffy!” and “A party! How delightful!”

-

Running, and running, and running. Always more running. Are these pirates always like this – running from location to location, dashing and jumping, never settling more than a moment?

“Shishishi! Yeah! What’s the fun in staying still?”

Oh, you said that aloud, didn’t you?

“You’re funny old person!”

“Oh, shove off you brat. What happens when you can’t beat the Duke?”

When, you say, purposeful, deliberate, smothering the hope in your chest. When. 

“I will.” Comes Luffy’s response, and you should have expected that, you should have but – 

“But-”

“I Will.” Comes Luffy’s grin, and – 

“Why?”

It comes out of your throat strangled, half dead because you don’t get him, you don’t, you don’t, an you don’t know why because this boy is just like your love and your wife, adventurous and outgoing. 

“Remember?” He looks at you, never moving, and oh,  you do. “The Duke hurt your dream! He can’t do that!” And he won’t, goes the unspoken promise. 

“Oh,” You say, like you said before, trying to commit that truth to heart. Oh.

-

It’s mid-afternoon by the time you arrive at the Duke’s mansion.  It’s gleaming white, made off the backs of the poor farmers of this station, who only wanted to grow plants and share seeds in peace. It fills you with rage. Horrible, horrible rage that consumes your very soul and makes your bones ache. 

The place where your wife last caressed your face burns. 

“This it?” Luffy asks you, and you give a nod. He slides you off his back, offering a steady arm for your to grab onto, and you both stare at the mansion. You have dreamed of setting this place on fire. Dreamed of it. 

Here, Luffy is ready to make it a reality. 

“Now – where’s the Duke?” Luffy tilts his head to the side, peering at the building. You peer with him, trying to remember where the Duke liked to make his nest when – 

“You! Peasant! Off my lawn!” Comes a voice, a voice that fills you with rage, from the Duke’s own personal garden. 

“Oi – what’re you doing old man? I’m trying to sleep here,” Comes another voice, younger with a deep timber and ooh–

Luffy’s tugged you by the wrist and you go over the hedge, landing squarely in front of – 

“Zoro!” Luffy cries, and tackles the man with three swords, lying on the ground.

Ah.

That’s why Franky and Brook thought this man would blend in. He’s so green. Like a little moss ball. A marimo! 

Adorable. 

Zoro caves easily to Luffy’s demands, catching him and moving aside so Luffy can find his own place wrapped around him, ease in every motion. Comfortability in every act. 

“Hey, Luffy – you know where everyone else is? I was beating up some of the weird guards around this place and wound up here.” Zoro asks, seemingly entirely genuine.

Luffy only throws his head back and cackles. “You got lost!” 

“No, I didn’t! This place moves that’s all! Like Usopp’s plants!”

“No, you’re just stupid Zoro.”

“I am not!”

“Are too!”

“A-HEM!” The Duke calls, interrupting, and to his credit doesn’t even flinch when the unimpressed glares of Zoro and Luffy land on him.

The Duke is – he’s towering. Eleven feet tall with muscles toned and strong, haki perpetually on his fists and a war hammer on his back. He wears pristine white suits, a flower in the lapel, red and plucked from your own garden, and his servants lay out a carpet before him, so he doesn’t have to deign to step in the mud in on an island of farmers and gardeners.

You hate him. You hate him. 

Something flies in the air, landing perfectly on the Duke’s white clothes.

A – a booger?

You look to your right, and there is Luffy, picking his nose and looking entirely unimpressed. “Heh – Who are you?” He asks.

The Duke, pale skinned and furious, goes red.  “I,” He declares, pompous, his servants cowering in the background, “Am The Duke of Flors, Lord” –“

“Ooooh, you’re the Duke! Zoro doesn’t he look like the axe-dude?” Luffy cuts the Duke off before turning entirely to Zoro. Zoro, for his part, cocks his head to the side.

“You know, if I cut off his arm, he really does.”

You stare.

The Duke stares.

Luffy wheels back his hand and smashes his fist into the Duke’s face, coated in haki and a direct hit to the man’s face.

There’s a cracking noise and a scream as the Duke goes flying. 

You stare.

The Duke is too far to see.

Zoro snorts. “What he do?” He asks. Luffy cocks his head toward you and Zoro gives a hum before settling back down into the ground. “Wake me up when you’re done. The bastard interrupted my nap.”

You stare.

Zoro snores.

The Duke comes crashing down from the sky with furious screaming, fist cocked back, only to be met with Luffy bouncing him off and back – blowing himself up like a balloon.

You stare.

The Duke screams.

Luffy laughs, and jumps into the fray, easily knocking back the guards that attack him, and Zoro defending himself easily with one sword as he lies down.

(He has three swords though. Why? Why do you need three swords? You are so confused.)

You stare, surrounded by  guards attacking you as this invincible fortress, surrounded by walls of white and a legacy of blood, begins to be torn down. The Duke comes back, white clothes ruined, trading blows with Luffy who almost looks as if he’s toying with him. In the midst, a skeleton and a cyborg appear, riding atop a motorcycle of all things, knocking down entire walls of this palace that should have never been. 

Usopp appears, the same time as the aerial squadron of the Duke’s arrives, and giving you a small nod head into the battle without a second of fear. He’s – he’s no act of bravery, and now, yyou think you could believe in every one of his tales, as you watch plants bloom to life to become dragons and snakes and forces of nature hundreds of feet tall. Chopper, the small raccoon dog – he’s different now, charging and shifting forms in an instant, and he’s a zoan, but you thought zoans had three forms. 

Not seven.

Not – Chopper crunches something and grows and roars – not eight. 

You are frozen, held in place, even as Sanji comes to drape a jacket over you before heading off, by this crew.

The Straw Hat Pirates, they are called. Dangerous they are called.

And they are.

But you can’t help but feel anything but awe as you stare at them, magnificent and beautiful and deadly, wielding nature and bending it to their very whim. They know they can win – and they know that this is nothing. 

They’re having fun while they do this, with amazing feats and sights that you – even living in the Grand Line, the New World, thought you would never see. The last straw hatted man who came through here, walked these fields and touched these flowers – he had nothing on this. 

“Ah!” A voice next to you says, loud enough amidst the explosions of laughter and fear, familiar and sweet. “Should have known this was where Luffy got up to!” It’s Nami, with a large bag on her back. 

You give her a look, then look at Luffy – now fighting the Duke in the sky, with a giant fist, covered in haki and fire.

This boy – 

“Amazing, isn’t he?” Nami asks you, settling down and adjusting the solid gold crown on her head. “He saved all of us – saved entire kingdoms. Just because we were his friend.”

Really!? Amazing! Hey – who’s your friend? Do they know anything about this? Usopp had said, and Luffy hadn’t protested.

Friend.

The Duke had hurt your dream, and here Luffy is, destroying an entire kingdom for you and your dream. 

It’s – it’s incredible. This boy, he – 

“He’s the man who will be King of the Pirates,” Nami tells you, nothing but truth ringing loud and free in her voice. “And we’re going to follow him, and chase our own dreams.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you watch the Duke fall from the sky, chased by a man made of rubber, chased by a king in a straw hat, chased and chased and chased and –

“So,” Nami smiles to your side, looking into your face. “Are you ready to chase yours again?”

The Duke slams down into the ground in a flurry of petals and red, and oh – 

It’s red. Red your wife’s favorite color, wife the color of your favorite colors, red the color of the horizon and everything god, red, red, red –

Red, the color of the ribbon around a straw hat, and red, the color of the vest of a king. 

It’s beautiful. 

“Yes.” You say, trembling as the Duke fails. “Yes – I’m. I’m ready. My dream – my dream –“

Luffy raises a fist, and delivers a single punch that frees your entire island, avenges your wife, saves you. 

He smiles as he does it, a grin on his lips and a shout to the sky – “I’M THE MAN WHO WILL BE KING OF THE PIRATES!”

It’s red.

“My dream is to collect all the flowers in the world! To shelter them! Even the flowers at Raftel!” It’s like an oath, spilling from your lips, last said hand in hand with your wife but now – now alone, but not, because your wife may be gone but she’s still here – never forgotten, always loved, and alive in your shared dreams.

Nami smiles, Luffy laughs, and you think red looks beautiful in your garden.

-

There’s a party on the shore, next to a ship with a sunflower head, decorated in flowers and the fruits of the island. The Straw Hats celebrate, as well as with the other residents of the island, who praise them and thank them and welcome them, lading their arms with all sorts of delicacies.

You aren’t there. Neither is Luffy.

Instead, the two of you head back to your farm. This time your back is straight and there’s a smile on your face. You stand tall and on your own but not alone and – 

It’s good.

It’s good.

Luffy smiles at you, gentle and brilliant, and you look to the fields where the flowers he wants are – 

Being tended to, by a woman with long black hair and a tender smile. A fishman is next to her, blue and tall, seemingly awkward amidst the yellows and blues and delicate petals, but just as willing to stand with who you can only assume is Robin. 

“Luffy!” She cries first, so happily, showing the petals to Luffy. He jumps into her arms, swinging her arounds, and in quick motions you carefully take the plants from the earth to wrap into a boquet, roots attached to be easily replanted, and had it it Luffy. By the time he sets Robin down, he’s pressing the flowers into her hands.

“For you!” He says, bright, and you know he gave you a dream back  but –

You know, in truth, he really defeated the Duke for his crew. For his family, his nakama. For Robin, to see this bone-deep happiness on her face. 

She smiles, and later you will hear tales from the guards of the stone, who speak of a women who could read the ancient script inscribed upon It while having a thousand arms but – 

For now, you see a woman gifted the world, and know joy. 

The fishman beside her – Jimbe your recognize, first son of the sea – gives a laugh and oh, is there red here, is there love here.

This boy, this king to be, Luffy, he came in and swept you all like wildflowers in the wind, simply to make one person happy.

Amazing, you think, looking around your island that’s unchained and your dream restored and your fields filled with red, how one man’s selfishness, leads to an island’s freedom. 

-

You wave goodbye from the cliffside, your wife’s grave beside you. Upon the ship of a king is a bag, to be filled with the flowers of the island at the end of the sea and returned to you after that.  You had been given a hug before you left, one made of rubber limbs and crushing weight, and watched as he rejoined his crew and celebrated another adventure. 

You had watched the party they had upon the shore, so wondrous, so amazing, and had watched them sing out victory over the crowds, with chopsticks up their noses and a rock star as their backdrop.

The Straw Hat pirates – their names dance on your tongue.

How amazing, how wonderful, how world-shaking to know them, even for just a moment. 

You have met straw hat wearers and archeologists and kings but never – never have you met anyone, just like them.

So you wave from the shore, your wife with you, and belatedly, tragically realize that you gave them your dream, but never your name.

Damnit!

#rbs appreciated!!! #op #one piece #whirlywhat #whirlywrites #flowers #outsider pov #luffy #monkey d. luffy #zoro #roronoa zoro #nami #usopp #chopper #sanji #brook #robin #nico robin #franky #jimbe #jinbe #jinbei #jimbei #so many NAMES #think thats it #sunny #thousand sunny #opfic #ao3 #fanfiction

[bellakitse]

Resonant Frequencies

TK and Carlos are friends with benefits. When a nosy neighbor of Carlos' mother runs into them kissing on the street, they pretend to be a couple to get out of the awkward moment. As a result, Carlos' mother wants to meet the secret boyfriend Carlos has told her nothing about. Cue the fake dating of two dumb boys who are more serious than they realize.

For @howtosingit, happy belated punk! Sorry it took so long, but I simply adore you and hope you like this. 🥰🥰

@daybreak96 asked to be tagged in this.

9.9k

The Texas noon sun beats down on TK Strand’s back as he stands in line waiting to order his lunch; next to him stands the man responsible for them being out in the first place. He turns slightly to look at him, studying every small detail. Carlos Reyes stands tall, his posture straight, but relaxed. He’s in street clothes like TK, a blue cotton t-shirt that clings and does nothing to hide the hard-earned definition of his drool-worthy body.

As someone who is personally acquainted with said body, TK feels he’s accurate in his description.

“Why are we here?” he asks, making a face when he hears the childish pout in his voice.

“It’s lunchtime, and we are at a food truck, TK. I would think the answer is obvious,” Carlos replies, turning to face him. TK can’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but the smirk playing on the hot cop’s lips is enough to make TK scowl, partly at Carlos, but mostly at himself for finding Carlos’ smugness so attractive.

In the last few months, he and Carlos have fallen into a ‘friends with benefits’ situation that TK finds highly enjoyable – like blacking out from the best sex of his life, enjoyable. Which is why he’s more than a little annoyed that they’re out here now, instead of enjoying the fact that neither have a shift until the afternoon by being alone and naked back at Carlos’ apartment.

“We could’ve eaten at your place,” he continues, voicing his thought.

“I haven’t done any groceries,” Carlos says smoothly, and while he’s not smirking, TK can hear the amusement in his voice. “Besides, why am I the one that keeps feeding you?”

TK rolls his eyes at the question; he already knows Carlos isn’t serious. The guy enjoys feeding TK and not just his cock.

“We could go back to your place, and I’ll pay for the Grubhub,” he shoots back, grinning when Carlos takes off his sunglasses; now that he has his eyes on him, TK lets his grin get dirty. He licks at his bottom lip slowly, silently cheering when Carlos’ pupils dilate as he stares at his mouth.

“I’m pretty sure you can make me come, screaming your name at least twice before the food arrives,” he says casually, as if talking about the weather, and not the knee-buckling orgasms Carlos tends to bring out of him. “Maybe even three times,” he smiles as Carlos exhales sharply. “We both know how good you are at getting me to do that.”

Carlos touches TK’s hip for a moment before slipping his arm around him, pulling him towards his body so quickly it’s TK’s turn to gasp.

“Flattery and cock-teasing,” Carlos murmurs against his ear, and TK can feel his body’s temperature go up a few notches that have nothing to do with the Austin heat. “That’s your plan here?”

“If it gets us back to your place and me under you, sure,” he answers, gleefully laughing as Carlos lets out a low groan, his lips brushing against TK’s throat before moving up again. He has him now.

“Tease,” Carlos whispers against the corner of TK’s mouth. The word is said with fondness and amusement that warms TK’s belly. He lifts his arms to wrap them around Carlos’ shoulders, smiling as Carlos pulls him even closer, thankful that no one is behind them on the line that they might annoy.

TK closes his eyes as Carlos kisses him softly, sighing when Carlos touches the tip of his tongue to his lips, parting them as he deepens the kiss. TK is so lost in Carlos’ feel and taste, he doesn’t notice the old lady walking up to them until she speaks.

“Carlitos Reyes, is that you?”

TK feels the moment Carlos’ muscles tense under his hands before he breaks their kiss with a jerk, swiveling his head to the left.

“Doña Flor!” Carlos exhales, his voice coming out loud, cracking slightly at the end. He smiles as he turns his body towards the older woman who called his name, but TK can tell the smile is artificial and awkward. “How are you?”

Doña Flor, a short, plump woman with grey hair pulled into a loose bun, and a weathered face, looks at them with a curious glint in her eye. “I’m doing as well as I can for my old age, mijo,” she tells Carlos. There is the beginning of a grin on her face as she shifts her gaze to TK, before looking back at Carlos with a raised eyebrow. “But it seems, not as well as you,” she continues, her tone pointed.

TK bites down on his lip as Carlos lets out an embarrassed laugh while rubbing the back of his neck bashfully; when he looks at him, all TK can do is raise his eyebrows at him, waiting to see how he wants to handle the situation.

“TK,” Carlos starts, looking at him with wide eyes. “This is Doña Flor Moreno; I grew up across the street from her, she’s a close friend of my mom.”

TK understands the implication in Carlos’ voice instantly and turns towards the lady with the most charming smile he can muster. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

Doña Flor smiles at him, that twinkle still there in her eyes. “And you – ” her question trails off, looking back at Carlos expectantly, causing Carlos to look like a deer caught in the headlights yet again.

“Right, Doña Flor, this is TK Strand,” Carlos says, looking at him. “He’s a firefighter; we work together.”

TK bites his lip again, this time to keep himself from laughing at the incredulous look the old lady gives Carlos.

“Very friendly coworkers,” she says dryly, reminding them exactly what she’d walked in on. Now TK can’t help the chuckle that escapes him as Carlos blushes a rosy pink color that is just too adorable.

“Doña Flor – “ Carlos starts to say, only to trail off when the woman rolls her eyes.

“I have known you since you were in diapers,” she reminds him with a huff. “I know you like boys, cariño,” she continues, her expression softening. “You don’t need to lie to me, Carlitos.”

Carlos stammers a few ‘umms’ before turning towards him completely at a loss. His helpless expression has TK opening his mouth and speaking before he can second-guess his decision.

“I’m his boyfriend as well as coworker, ma’am,” TK answers with a smile, trying to ignore the way the words suddenly make his heart race. He can feel Carlos’ eyes drilling into the side of his face, but he doesn’t focus on that when Flor is laughing with delight.

“Yes, sweetie, that hot kiss I interrupted kind of clued me in,” she says to him with a grin, before turning back to Carlos. “Good going, Carlitos, es muy guapo tu novio.”

“Flor!” Carlos exclaims, his blush spreading from his hairline over his face and down his neck. “Dios mio,” he mutters, covering his face with his hands as the old woman laughs.

“I know that word, it means good-looking, right?” he asks, looking for confirmation from Flor when Carlos just groans into his hands.

Flor nods, a wide smile still on her face. “Si, cariño, that’s what it means, and it’s true, you’re beautiful.”

TK can feel his own face heat up at the compliment. Trying to distract from it, he leans in to press his shoulder against Carlos’ playfully. “How come you don’t call me beautiful?”

Carlos lowers his hands to scowl at him. “That is a blatant lie,” he accuses him. “I call you beautiful all the time.”

TK feels himself go redder; it’s true, Carlos calls him beautiful all the time. Usually, when they’re in bed having sex. Carlos tends to whisper in his ear how gorgeous TK is, how good he feels as he slowly and torturously sinks deep into TK until he doesn’t know where he ends, and Carlos begins.

What he’s thinking must show on his face, because Carlos’ eyes darken as he watches him, and TK can’t help but sway into him. He places his hand on Carlos’ stomach to keep himself from melting under that gaze.

“You two are so sweet together,” Doña Flor sighs happily. “Young love is always so beautiful. Your mama must be so happy you’re dating someone, Carlitos.”

The mention of his mom seems to snap Carlos back to attention, his expression going panicked again. “Actually, she – “ he starts but is stopped as Doña Flor’s purse starts to ring; he pauses as she roots through it to take out her cell phone.

“Oh!” she exclaims as she looks at the caller ID. “It’s my daughter, she’s in the farmers market across the street,” she explains as she takes the call.

He and Carlos remain silent as she speaks rapidly into the phone. The conversation is rushed before she’s hanging up again and turning to them.

“I have to go,” she says quickly, stepping forward to kiss Carlos on the cheek. “We have to go pick up my grandkids, half-a-day at school,” she explains before surprising TK by also kissing him on the cheek. “It was so nice to meet you, TK, make sure this one brings you to my place when you visit his mama, okay? I make the best sopaipillas in all of Texas.”

TK nods because he doesn’t know what else to do, watching as she turns and walks away, leaving him and Carlos alone again.

It’s quiet, and TK waits as Carlos frowns into the distance for a moment before he speaks. “What’s a soap – “ he trails off, not knowing how to pronounce the word.

“Sopaipillas,” Carlos tells him quietly. “It’s fried dough, drizzled with honey and powdered sugar, Doña Flor makes them from scratch.”

“Oh, that sounds good,” he says, hesitant as Carlos sighs.

“This is so bad,” he mutters, mostly to himself as he shakes his head.

“What?”

“She’s going to tell my mom she saw us here,” Carlos explains, his frown deepening. “That you called yourself my boyfriend,” he continues with a groan. “This is a nightmare.”

TK swallows around the sudden ache right below his chest at Carlos’ words. “Gee, thanks,” he says sarcastically, cringing when he hears the hurt in his voice.

Carlos hears it too if the way his expression goes apologetic instantly is any indication. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he says quietly. “I just wasn’t prepared for you to answer the way you did.”

“You froze when she called you out on calling me your coworker, and she caught us making out,” TK says defensively, hating how the sting of Carlos’ words still lingers under his skin. “Was I supposed to tell that nice old lady that I’m just the guy you fuck a lot? Boyfriend seemed like the more PG answer.”

“TK,” Carlos whispers, and TK has to curl his hands to keep himself from reaching out as Carlos looks sorrier than before.

“Whatever,” he mutters, mostly to himself as he tries to shake off the hurt. This is why he avoids getting attached these days. “Maybe she won’t say anything to your mom.”

Carlos lets out a dry snort, shaking his head like TK has amused him. “That’s not how Mexican moms work.”

 ֍֍֍

 It’s a few hours into the evening when TK sees Carlos again. They didn’t go back to Carlos’ place like he had hoped initially before they’d run into Carlos’ old neighbor. Instead, they had stayed to order their food from the taco truck and then eaten it at a nearby bench in somewhat uncomfortable silence before TK asked Carlos to drop him off early at the station.

Now, as TK works on top of the truck, he watches as Carlos lingers by the bay doors, searching the room. It gives TK a moment to observe him, swallowing down an appreciative sound. He’s never had a kink for uniforms before, but he can admit – if only to himself – that Carlos fills out his exceptionally well.

Carlos finds him quickly, and TK tries to ignore how his heart speeds up when their eyes meet.

“Hey,” Carlos calls out to him as he nears the truck, looking up at him. A few of his teammates look over at the voice. Carlos answers their curious gaze with a half-hearted wave before focusing on TK again, making it obvious he’s there to see him. “Can we talk for a second?” he asks, looking nervous.

TK gives him a small nod. “Yeah – I’ll come down – ”

“Officer Reyes!”

TK turns his head and sees his father come out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee in his hand. He sighs quietly as he starts to climb down the top of the truck. His feet touch the floor just as his father comes to a stop in front of Carlos.

“What a nice surprise,” Owen says with a friendly smile, lifting his cup. “Would you like some coffee?”

“Carlos doesn’t drink coffee this late,” TK answers just as Carlos shakes his head. “Only tea,” he tells his father and tries not to squirm under the gaze of both men as Carlos looks at him surprised but also pleased while his father looks at him questionably.

His gaze lingers on him for a moment before turning back to Carlos with a smile. “What brings you by, officer? Paperwork for me?”

Carlos shakes his head again, his eyes straying back to him, and TK keeps from rolling his when his dad looks at him too knowingly.

“Maybe you’re here to see Michelle?” Owen continues, and this time TK does roll his eyes as he hears his dad’s familiar shit-stirring tone.

“He’s here to see me, dad,” he says with a huff as Owen looks pleased with the reveal. “But you figured that out already,” he accuses him, shaking his head as his father looks seconds from laughing at his aggravation. “A little privacy would be nice.”

Owen chuckles, raising a hand in mocking surrender. “I’ll leave you too it then,” he answers with amusement as he turns to leave. “Carlos, if you decide you want tea, make sure TK makes you some.”

Carlos gives him a slight nod with an awkward smile on his face. “Thank you, Captain Strand.”

Owen smiles once more before he heads for the stairs leading to his office, leaving them alone.

“Do you want to talk outside?” TK asks after a moment of silence between them. Carlos looks around the station, lingering on TK’s crew before agreeing.

“Yeah, that’s probably best,” Carlos answers, still looking anxious.

TK leads them to one of the benches they placed after the remodel, sitting down with an exhale. Carlos doesn’t sit next to him; instead, he fidgets where he stands.

“Okay, what’s up?” he asks when it becomes obvious that Carlos isn’t going to stop shuffling and get to why he’s there anytime soon. “You’re vibrating energy,” he says, frowning, not used to seeing Carlos nervous. “Is this about before?” he asks, biting down on his lip when Carlos nods.

Carlos lets out a sigh, a smile that is more a grimace on his face as he finally takes a seat next to him.

“Well, what is it?” TK can’t help but blurt out when Carlos doesn’t continue. Instead, he pulls out his phone, opens it to his messages, and passes it over to TK.

TK takes the phone in his hand, raising both eyebrows when the first thing he sees is a picture of them from earlier, right before they kissed. TK swallows hard, feeling his face heat up as he looks at the moment that was captured. Them in profile, with his arms wrapped around Carlos’ neck, while Carlos holds him by the waist. The picture’s taken from a bit of distance, but even so, TK can see a smile on his own face.

“When did she even have time to take this?” he asks, trying to focus on that and not how happy he looks in the picture.

“Latina moms are part ninjas, part spies, this is nothing,” Carlos answers with the voice of a man that is resigned to that fact.

TK looks back at the picture and realizes it’s part of a group chat called ‘Las Reinas y el Rey,’

“What does that mean?” he asks, not ready to look at the conversation just yet.

“Oh,” Carlos smiles, this time more sincerely as he leans over to look. “It means ‘the queens and the king.’ Reyes means king, and since my immediate family is my mom and my sisters, that’s what they decided to call our family chat.”

TK smiles, liking the reason behind the name even as he realizes who exactly saw their picture. He scrolls past the image and breaks out into a cold sweat as he reads the messages. When he looks back at Carlos with wide-eyes, he gets a solemn nod in return.

“Yep,” Carlos answers this time, grimacing outright.

TK looks down at the phone once more, the message from Carlos’ mom right under the picture sticking with him the most.

‘Do you have something to tell me, Carlos Aurelio Reyes?’

The question is followed by his sisters teasing him over their mother middle naming him and how that meant he was in trouble. It ends with his mother telling him to call her. Now.

“I didn’t know that was your middle name,” TK says softly, not knowing what else to say.

“It was my grandfather’s name,” Carlos tells him. When he doesn’t follow it up with anything else, TK finally cracks.

“Shit, Carlos,” he starts apologetically, anxiously running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble with your family.”

“Hey, no, don’t do that,” Carlos says quickly, turning in his seat to face him. “You don’t have to apologize; you were just trying to get me out of an awkward situation.”

“And landed you in a bigger one,” he shoots back dryly, relieved when Carlos lets out a small, wary chuckle.

“The conversations with my mom – “ he trails off, shaking his head. “I’m 27 years old, and yet that woman can make me feel like I’m five again when I’m in trouble with her.”

“How in trouble are you?” TK asks, biting down on his lip when Carlos shrugs.

“She’s disappointed,” Carlos answers, making air quotes that have TK huffing out a laugh, and Carlos shoots him back a grin. “Apparently she called Flor to confirm what she’s bringing to a block party we are having this Saturday. Flor mentioned seeing me with you, of course, and then sent her the picture as proof, asking if I was bringing you to the party. Mom got caught off guard because I haven’t mentioned you to her and then lectured me about having a boyfriend she doesn’t know. She asked if we aren’t close anymore.”

“Ah, she gave you the mom guilt-trip,” TK says knowingly.

“Carlota Reyes has a Ph.D. in that field,” Carlos answers, but there is a fond smile on his handsome face that says he finds it endearing. “She just wants to know you, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her that we’re not actually like that,” he tells him quietly with a helpless shrug.

TK doesn’t speak for a moment. Instead, he lets himself consider something that sends his heart racing in a way that surprises him. That alone should be enough for him to realize it’s a bad idea, but still, he finds himself ignoring that little voice in his head that tells him he’s getting too close.

“We don’t have to tell her,” he says, taking a calming breath when Carlos shoots him a confused look. “As far as she knows we’re dating, she doesn’t need to know how serious it is or not.”

“TK – “

“You can take me to that party,” he continues, talking over Carlos quickly. “Then, your mom can get the satisfaction of meeting me.”

“She thinks you’re my boyfriend, not my – “ Carlos trails off, not knowing how to finish the sentence.

“Fuck buddy?” TK finishes for him, holding his breath when Carlos frowns.

“I’d like to think we’re friends, Tyler,” Carlos says softly, not realizing how the words make his stomach somersault in a pleasant way that makes TK feel happier than expected.

“We are,” TK answers just as soft. “You’re right, we’re friends. I like you.”

Carlos smiles at him; it’s gentle and happy as his eyes crinkle at the corners. “I like you too.”

“Right,” he gets out, clearing his throat as his stomach does another flip. “So, we shouldn’t have a problem pretending to be together for a night to appease your mom,” he continues. When Carlos looks hesitant, he leans into his space with a teasing grin. “I mean, it’s not like it will be hard. We usually spend our alone time with our mouths on each other anyway. Pretty sure we can pull off acting like a couple.”

Carlos shoots him a look, his mouth twitching with reluctant amusement. “You are so much trouble, Strand,” he accuses him, but the glint in his brown eyes lets TK know he means it with fondness.

“Yeah,” TK answers with a chuckle. “But you like it. So what do you say, Reyes? Wanna be my boyfriend?”

Carlos locks eyes with him, the intensity in his gaze causing the breath to catch in TK’s throat. “Yeah.”

 ֍֍֍

 Saturday arrives faster than expected; he sees Carlos during calls and after work before the day. Each time Carlos tells him with a nervous smile that his mother and sisters are very excited to meet him.

Carlos drives them that late afternoon to Austin’s outskirts into a neighborhood with modest one-story ranch houses. They can hear music and people laughing before they pull up right outside the closed-off block. Carlos turns off the engine to his Camero before letting out a deep breath.

When he turns to face him, TK wants to tell him that it’s going to be okay. Instead, his nerves that have been getting the better of him since Carlos picked him up, have him blurting out – “Are you sure I look okay?”

He frowns down at his black and white polka dot short-sleeved dress shirt. “Maybe I should have worn the green palm leaves; you like that shirt better, right?”

“I do like that one,” Carlos concedes. “The green brings out your eyes, but,” he continues, giving TK a smile when TK lets out a sigh. “I like you in the polka dots too.”

TK looks at Carlos doubtfully before turning the look back to his shirt, running a hand down the front to smooth out the material. “You sure?” he asks, startling when he feels Carlos’ hand touch his jaw; when he looks back at him, he finds Carlos giving him a soft, reassuring look.

“You look amazing in everything, TK,” Carlos tells him with naked want shining in his eyes. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

TK lets out a shaky breath at Carlos’ words. Licking at his lips, it hitches in his lungs as Carlos stares at his mouth. He closes his eyes a second before Carlos presses his mouth to his, moaning into those full lips when Carlos moves his hand from his jaw to his hair, clutching it tightly as he moves TK where he wants to deepen the kiss. Carlos’ tongue touches his lips, and TK lets out a needy sound as he lets Carlos in, his hands blindly grabbing at Carlos’ strong shoulders to keep him grounded. There are times when Carlos kisses him like this, that TK is convinced he’s going to float away from how light Carlos makes him feel under his touch.

There is a hard knock on Carlos’ side that makes TK jump back. Carlos turns from him, letting out a deep groan when he sees who it is.

“Great,” he mutters as he wipes at his mouth. Leaning forward to look around Carlos, TK finds a beautiful woman with brown eyes staring at them, and there is a smirk on her red-colored lips as their eyes lock. Her features are similar enough to Carlos to instantly recognize the family resemblance.

“Which one is she?” he asks, hoping he can calm his nerves before they have to exit the car.

“That would be Lola,” Carlos says dryly, as TK mentally goes over what he knows about her. Closest in age to Carlos, a local artist, and in Carlos’ own words, a pain in his ass.

“Right,” he says quietly, taking a deep breath, he starts to reach for the door handle when Carlos stops him by placing a hand on his forearm.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, looking concerned and nervous himself. TK doesn’t like the look one bit, and even though Carlos’ sister is still leaning down to look at them, TK turns towards him and kisses him again.

“We got this,” he whispers against Carlos’ mouth, smiling when he lets out a sound of agreement. With that, he pulls back, missing Carlos’ reassuring touch instantly as he opens the door to get out.

“Hi,” he says to Carlos’ sister from across the car, flashing her what he hopes is a charming smile. “I’m TK.”

“Lola,” she answers with a grin of her own; it grows as TK nods that he knows. “Gotta say, you’re so much cuter when my little brother isn’t attached to your face.”

“Ha, ha, ha, hilarious,” Carlos says sarcastically as he too gets out of the car. “When was the last time you had someone as gorgeous as him attached to your face, Lola?” he asks, and TK has to cover his mouth to hide the smile that takes over instantly. That has to be the most childish thing he’s ever heard Carlos say, and TK can’t help but find it absolutely endearing.

“You brat,” Lola teases, her eyes crinkling at the corners from the massive smile on her face as she talks to her brother; it matches Carlos’ own.

“I learned from the best,” he shoots back with a laugh before he’s pulling her into a hug, lifting her off the ground. Lola lets out a squeal, clutching his shoulders. “How’s your show doing?”

“Amazingly,” Lola answers as he puts her back down. “But you would know that, if you bothered to stop by,” she says purposely, earning a sigh from Carlos.

“I’ve been busy,” he argues back as he and Lola walk around the car to him. He holds out his hand to TK, which he takes gratefully before they start walking towards the music and the crowd. “With work and – “

“ – a hot firefighter boyfriend that you tell us nothing about until you get caught by nosy neighbors?” Lola finishes for him, jokingly.

Carlos clams up, shooting his sister a look, but it does nothing to stop the teasing one Lola shoots back at him.

“Carlos said you’re an artist, but I didn’t know you had a current show,” TK jumps in, hoping to ease the tension. “Is it close?”

Lola turns to him, nodding. “Yeah, a small art gallery downtown, it just opened.”

“That’s exciting,” TK continues. “We should go,” he says as he turns to Carlos.

Carlos raises an eyebrow at that, trying to read if he means it. “We barely have dinner before we’re in bed.”

“I don’t need to know about your sex life,” Lola butts in, smirking when Carlos scowls at her.

“To sleep, pervert,” Carlos answers rudely, much to Lola’s amusement. “TK works really long, exhausting shifts.”

“We can go the next time we have a day off together,” he answers before Lola can continue messing with Carlos. “We’ll make the time. Carlos says you are really gifted.”

“Carlos complimenting me?” Lola jokes, but TK can see the pleased look in her eyes at his comment.

“Don’t tell her that,” Carlos hisses at him without heat. “She’s already insufferable enough as is.”

Lola shakes her head, stopping as they come to a pale mint-green house. “Secrets out now, mano, you say nice things about me.”

“A momentary lapse in judgment, I assure you,” Carlos answers, much to his sister and TK’s amusement. He’s never seen such a playfully combative side of Carlos, but it’s fun to watch.

“You’re so cute when you’re pissy,” Lola mocks him, before leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “But I know it’s just cause deep down you’re scared to go inside and see Mami,” she says, pointing at the house they’re standing in front of. “She’s waiting, said to make sure you came inside the moment you showed up.”

Carlos doesn’t say anything, but TK can feel him tense up as he holds on to his arm, giving weight to Lola’s observation.

“Relax,” she says, her tone softening as she goes from messing with Carlos to being supportive in a flash. “She’s going to like him,” Lola continues. “He’s cute, polite, and the way you two are holding each other,” she points at their linked hands and at TK’s other hand holding on to Carlos’ bicep. “It’s freaking adorable. Mami is going to take one look at you two and start daydreaming of weddings and babies. She’ll love him.”

TK swallows hard at her words, feeling Carlos tense even further under his hold. “I don’t think that’s as reassuring as you hoped it would be,” he tells her honestly. It earns him a toothy smile that lets him know Lola is greatly amused by them.

“She’s not trying to be reassuring; she’s being a shit-starter,” Carlos tells him, rolling his eyes at his sister before they soften as he looks back at him, squeezing his hand as he leads him towards the house. “She is right about one thing, though, Mami is going to love you.”

“You sure?” he questions nervously, walking up the small set of staircases with Carlos.

“How could she not?” Carlos questions gently, the affection in his eyes warming TK’s insides. TK leans into Carlos, pressing a kiss on his shoulder in response.

“You two are nauseatingly cute,” Lola groans, making TK jump; for a moment, he had forgotten that she was coming up behind them.

“What are you doing?” Carlos questions with narrowed eyes as Lola types away on her phone.

“Updating Valentina and Sofía,” she answers, unconcerned when Carlos makes a sound in protest. “They’ll be here later, Vale is still on shift at the hospital, and Sofía said she’d come after she puts the kids to bed. They want a full report on you and the gringo.”

“I hate you all,” Carlos informs his sister, shaking his head when she waves off his words, still texting away. “Come on,” he says to him, opening the door. “Time to meet the big boss.”

Lola snorts at the comment, following them.

The inside of the Reyes household is colorful and warm, not just in temperature but love; just in the foyer alone, the walls are covered in pictures of the family.

TK instantly gravitates to a medium-sized frame picture of a young Carlos, no older than four in the picture, massive curls, and a bright smile with missing teeth.

“Holy shit, Carlos,” TK breathes, letting go of him to get a closer look. “You’re adorable.”

“Oh god, please don’t look at that,” Carlos pleads as he tries to pull TK away from the picture.

“Not look at it?” TK questions incredulously. He turns to Carlos with wide exaggerated eyes. “Are you kidding? The first thing I’m going to do after you introduce me to your mom is ask her if she has a copy I can have,” he explains, grinning as Carlos scowls at him in return. “You’re the cutest thing ever!”

Lola snickers as Carlos turns a pretty shade of pink at his compliment; he goes to protest some more when they hear someone clear their throat behind them. Turning around, TK finds an attractive older woman with shoulder-length salt and pepper hair, a pretty face, with those familiar brown-eyes looking straight at him; she holds in her hands a tray of delicious smelling taquitos.

“I do have a copy of that photograph. If you really want it, it’s yours,” she promises, the corners of her mouth quirking upward when Carlos groans loudly.

“Mami, no,” he complains, making TK laugh.

“Yes, please,” he tells her, smiling back as her own smile grows.

Carlos comes to stand next to him, wrapping an arm around his waist. “I didn’t bring you here to gang up on me,” he tells him with a pout.

“No, you brought him here to meet me after keeping him a secret,” Carlos’ mother reminds him sternly.

“Mami – “ Carlos whines before letting out a dramatic sigh. “Mami, this is TK Strand, TK, my beautiful, forgiving mother, Carlota Reyes.”

Lola snickers to the left of them. “Suck up.”

TK lets out a nervous laugh, as Carlos makes a face at his sister and his mother shakes her head. “It’s very nice to meet you, ma’am. Thank you for inviting me to your party.”

“Thank you for coming,” Carlota says politely. “Do you eat meat, TK?”

“I limit how much of it I eat for work, but yes,” TK answers, curious why she’s asking.

Carlota holds up the tray of food in her hands. “I’m about to take this outside for the potluck; would you taste it first?”

TK looks at Carlos for a moment, getting a pleased smile out of him. “I learned to cook from my mom, and you like my cooking.”

“That I do,” TK answers; now that he doesn’t walk out of Carlos’ dinners, he’s learned that Carlos is a fantastic cook, everything he makes, TK loves. He steps forward, taking a taquito from the top of the tray and eating half in a bite.

Carlos, Lola, and Carlota watch him as he chews, waiting for his verdict.

“Well?” Carlota questions, curious.

TK finishes the rest of the taquito, going as far as licking his thumb. “That is probably the best thing I have ever had in my mouth,” he answers truthfully.

“Beaten out by a taco for that honor, “ Lola says wickedly without missing a step. “Gotta be pretty embarrassing, bro.”

“Lola, you absolute brat,” Carlos hisses over his sister’s unrepentant laughter, while TK chokes, blushing furiously.

Carlota shakes her head, taking a step forward, she places a hand on his arm as TK finally stops coughing. “It’s times like this that I don’t claim them as mine,” she says with him with wry amusement. “Come with me, mijo, I’ll introduce you to the neighbors while the children fight.”

Carlos lets out a protesting sound, whether for being called a child or because his mother is guiding him out of the house, TK isn’t sure. He catches up to them in a few steps, throwing an arm around his shoulders. TK wraps his own arm around Carlos’ waist, feeling comforted by having him at his side again.

“You’re not going to say anything about Lola being a jerk, Mami?” Carlos pouts at his mother, and TK once again is struck by how different he is around his family and just how cute he finds it that he’s not as calm and collected as he usually seems.

“It was funny,” Lola complains, bringing up the rear as they head towards the crowd.

Carlota rolls her eyes, ignoring them both in favor of waving at a few neighbors. “If you two could start behaving, that would be great,” she tells them. “The neighbors are used to your spectacles, but TK is looking a little flustered,” she continues, nodding towards him before continuing towards a set of tables at the edge of the street with food on it. Lola follows her, but Carlos holds him in place, keeping him from doing the same.

“I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable,” Carlos rushes to say when TK looks at him; out of the corner of his eye, he sees both Carlos’ mom and sister sneaking looks back at them. “Lola just likes to tease me.”

“You said your other sisters are the same,” TK reminds him, getting a grimace back.

“Yeah,” Carlos agrees, still making a face. “Maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all.”

TK frowns at that.

“We’re going to scare you away with our crazy,” Carlos continues, explaining, and TK feels his insides squeeze at the worry he hears in Carlos’ voice.

“Hey,” he says softly, cupping Carlos’ cheek. “I’m made of stronger stuff,” he jokes lightly. “It will take more than outrageous sisters with admittedly wicked burns to send me running.”

“Don’t you dare encourage her behavior by letting her believe you think she’s funny,” Carlos says sternly, and the laughter that has been threatening to bubble up finally spills.

“Great,” he continues dryly, his arms going around him as TK laughs into his chest. “Pick her side.”

“So pouty,” TK teases, still chuckling as he lifts his head to grin up at Carlos. “Who knew you were so cute like this.”.

“You’re enjoying this,” Carlos accuses him with narrowed eyes. TK shrugs a shoulder, not bothering to deny it. He’s still nervous about pulling this off without Carlos’ family and friends realizing that they’re faking the seriousness of their relationship. Still, TK finds interacting with Carlos’ family entertaining so far, especially because of the opportunity to see Carlos’s more playful, silly side.

“Yeah, you’re enjoying me being embarrassed a little too much,” Carlos continues as TK grins. “Well, come on then, might as well keep your entertainment going.”

Carlos’ dry voice makes TK chuckle, and he finds himself tilting his head, making up for the inch of height difference between them. Carlos’ mouth lifts at the corners as he closes the tiny gap between them, brushing his lips against his a few times, causing TK’s lips to tingle from the light contact. He lets out a sound from the back of his throat that has Carlos smiling against his mouth. TK groans in response to the teasing, wanting more than anything to deepen the kiss but knowing they can’t. Not when they’re around people who have known Carlos since he was a kid.

“Introduce me to your friends before we give them a show they’ll never let you live down,” he whispers, taking a step back out of Carlos’ hold.

Carlos groans softly before taking his hand and walks him towards his neighbors.

For the next hour, TK plays the attentive boyfriend, sticking close to Carlos as he gets introduced to his nearest and dearest. He listens as the older neighbors who watched Carlos grow up tell him about a playful younger version of the man holding him. Kind and helpful, bringing in groceries for the older folks on the block and getting paid back in cookies. TK enjoys as the comments make Carlos blush. And he smiles as the kids on the block all come around to say hi to Carlos, some trying to climb him as they hug him. It’s obvious to TK, Carlos is well-loved by his community.

He meets Carlos’ other two sisters, and like Lola, they take great joy in messing with Carlos about him, making teasing comments that make even TK blush, much to their delight. Carlos scowls at them over every comment pleasing them even further.

In response, TK is even more affectionate with Carlos, snuggling to his side, kissing him under his jaw to ease the sting of his sisters’ teasing, earning a happy smile from him, and even more ribbing from the Reyes women. He likes them; he likes how they tease with love, bright smiles on their faces, their eyes full of affection and easy acceptance of him in Carlos’ life. It becomes clear that if he makes Carlos happy, he’s welcomed into the fold.

It makes something ache inside TK to know all of this is for show, and he realizes quickly he’s not the only one feeling this way.

He can see the situation getting to Carlos the more his mother smiles in their direction. When she starts talking about Sunday dinner and how Carlos needs to bring TK for the next one, he can feel Carlos tense under his hand as TK tells her that he works long hours, and they’ll have to check with the station’s schedule for him first.

“You know, you didn’t give me the house tour earlier,” he says to Carlos, his tone flirty, but his expression meaningful as he turns to him. He can start to see the cracks in Carlos.

“That’s code for ‘take me to your teenage bed,’” Valentina says dryly, proving she’s just as bad as Lola, while Sofía, the quietest of the sisters, snorts into her drink.

“I thought that was clear,” he says with a smirk as he looks at them over his shoulder, his smile growing as they both roll their eyes at them.

“Go,” Sofía shoos them away, amused. “Go make out with your boyfriend. Lola was right, your love is nauseating.”

“They’re just jealous we’re so cute,” TK tells Carlos, laughing when they boo him. “Shall we?”

Carlos nods, turning them in the direction of his mother’s house. They walk towards it quickly, smiling back at the neighbors they make eye contact with, but the moment they’re inside the house, TK feels Carlos deflate under his touch.

“Oh man,” he exhales tiredly, walking away from him and down the hall.

TK hesitates for a moment but eventually follows him towards the far end of the house. He looks inside the room Carlos has gone into, obviously his, by the band posters and multiple sports-related paraphernalia on the walls.

In the middle of the room, Carlos sits on a twin-sized bed.

“So this is your room,” TK comments, moving to a wall with trophies and awards both in academics and sports.

“Yeah, Mami has kept all our rooms the same even after all of us left for college,” Carlos tells him with a small smile. “We tell her to turn them into something else now that we’re all moved out, but she says they’re our rooms, and that’s how they’ll stay.”

“That’s really sweet of her,” TK says softly as he comes to sit down next to him. “She’s really nice, and so are your sisters even if they really enjoy messing with you,” he smirks, remembering all the jokes the sisters have had tonight. “I like them.”

“And they like you,” Carlos says with an exhale. “Which isn’t surprising at all.”

TK bites his lip, not knowing what to say, the words sound positive, but Carlos’ tone tells him it’s anything but.

“I hate lying to them, TK,” Carlos looks at him with a frown. “They probably think we’re in love, and I hate how easy it was to fool them.”

TK swallows hard at that particular word Carlos uses. Love. It sends his pulse racing in a way he’s not prepared for.  “You can tell them the truth,” he suggests gently. “You can tell them we are still figuring us out.”

“That’s not really true either, is it?” Carlos answers, giving him a sad smile. “We’re not figuring anything out. I know how I feel about you, and you know that you don’t want anything more serious than what we have.”

“How do you feel about me?” TK whispers hesitantly, his heart thundering under his chest at the look Carlos gives him.

“Come on, TK, you have to know,” Carlos whispers back, sighing when TK doesn’t say anything. “Fine. I’m willing to settle for a small piece of you, because even that little piece, is better than not having you at all. That’s how I feel about you.”

 ֍֍֍

 The drive back to TK’s is a quiet one; after Carlos’ confession leaves them in awkward silence, they return to the party playing the happy couple until they’re able to escape. Carlota and the sisters give him an affectionate good-bye, telling him they hope to see him soon. It hurts in a way TK isn’t ready for.

Carlos pulls the car to a stop in front of TK’s home and turns off the engine.

“Are we going to talk about this?” TK asks quietly when a few minutes pass, and nothing is said.

“Yes,” Carlos answers finally, just as soft. When he turns his head to look at TK, he aches from how tired Carlos looks. “But can it not be tonight?” there is a quiet plea in his voice that TK can’t deny.

“Okay,” he says, reaching for the door handle.

“Hey,” Carlos starts, touching his arm, reeling him back before he can get out. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

“I – “ he starts helplessly, it feels suddenly like there is this giant drift between them. Something he’s never felt before, and he doesn’t know how to fix it.

Carlos seems to understand instantly and, as usual, tries to make it better. “Come here,” he murmurs, tugging him forward. TK closes his eyes, feeling the sting behind them as Carlos gives him the softest of kisses.

“Whatever you decide about us,” he whispers as he presses his forehead against his. “I’m here for you either way, okay?”

TK lets out a soft sound, swallowing hard around the lump forming in his throat.

Carlos makes a sound of his own, pressing his forehead a little harder against TK’s for a moment before moving back. “You should go,” he whispers. “Get some rest.”

“Carlos – ” TK tries again, no less sure of what he wants to say or how to mend the drift that keeps growing with every passing second between them.

Carlos just gives him a slight smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Good night, Tyler.”

Knowing that he has nothing to say to make it better right now, not when he doesn’t even know what he’s feeling, TK reaches for the door again. “Good night, Carlos,” he sighs before stepping out of the car.

He walks up the driveway to the front door, pausing when he opens it to look back, not surprised in the least that Carlos is waiting until he’s safely inside.

He enters the house and leans against the closed door with a heavy sigh. Resting there for a moment, he tries to work through the whole evening and, in the end, gets nowhere. He hears movement in the distance and follows it; walking through the house, he finds his father sitting at the island counter in the middle of the kitchen, stirring his tea.

“Hey, kid,” his father greets him with an easy smile. “Didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

“Why not?” he questions, opening the fridge to get a water bottle.

“Because you were out with a certain Austin Police officer, and you have a tendency to come home late or not at all when you’re out with him,” Owen answers bluntly, smiling brightly when he chokes on his water.

“You know,” TK gets out after a series of coughs.

“That you’re messing around with Officer Reyes?” Owen questions, his tone disbelieving. “Of course I know.”

“Then what was that the other day when he came to see me?” TK asks back. “You made it awkward on purpose.”

“That was me messing with you,” Owen answers without shame, his blue eyes dancing with amusement.

TK rolls his eyes. “Thanks, dad,” he says dryly as he comes to sit down next to him with a heavy sigh.

“Did something happen, TK?” Owen asks him, frowning as TK runs a hand over his face and through his hair.

“You could say that,” he says tiredly, staring at the counter. He closes his eyes when he feels his father’s hand on his neck, giving it an encouraging squeeze.

“Tell me,” Owen says softly, and TK does. The story just pours out of him. How he and Carlos started, the botched dinner he walked out of. Getting arrested, and the conversation between him and Carlos at the station. Them starting over, with no commitment, just friends and casual sex. How getting caught by Carlos’ neighbor ended with playing the loving boyfriend to Carlos’ family and friends tonight, and finally, he tells his dad, Carlos’ world-tilting confession.

“Wow,” his father blinks a few times as he stares at him; it makes TK chuckle without humor.

“That’s all you got, dad?” he questions. “I tell you that I have a ‘friends with benefits’ situation going with Carlos. That we played fake-boyfriends to his very nice family, which I enjoyed more than I should have. He then basically tells me that he only agreed to that because he has feelings for me, and went along with this because some of me is better than nothing. Which means I’m a selfish ass for not realizing sooner that this whole situation has been for my benefit, and Carlos gets nothing out of it but hurt, and all you can say is wow?”

“You’re not a selfish ass,” Owen says seriously, reaching out to touch his forearm when TK shakes his head. “You didn’t know how Carlos really felt until tonight.”

“I should have though,” he argues back, realizing how true it is. Everything Carlos does, from cooking for them after their shifts even though he’s tired himself. Listening to TK and never once judging him for his past. The sex, which TK now realizes even from the very first time, has never been just sex, not once. Carlos has cared about him from the start, it’s always been there, but because he was nursing a broken heart, he ignored it, wanting the comfort Carlos gave him. “He’s so good to me, dad. So kind.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Owen agrees with a soft smile. “I like the kid.”

“I like him too,” TK whispers. “A lot.”

“But?” his dad questions.

“But what if I’m too messed up and broken to really try this?” he asks, swallowing hard around the question.

Owen shakes his head at him, frowning. “You aren’t a mess or broken, TK.”

TK sighs. “Dad – “

“No, listen to me,” Owen cuts him off with a stern expression on his face. “I get that this is about your addiction and about Alex. I get it. But your past doesn’t make you a mess. You fight your addiction every damn day, you’re a survivor, TK.”

TK takes a shaky breath, his eyes stinging from his dad’s words. Looking at his father, he can see that he’s holding back the tears too.

“And Alex didn’t break you,” Owen continues gently. “He bruised you up a bit, but you’re not broken, kid, not one bit. If he did, you wouldn’t be able to care about Carlos the way you obviously do.”

“But what if I try, and I mess it up?” TK whispers, giving voice to his fears.

Owen smiles at him with understanding. “What’s scarier, TK? Being with Carlos and making a mistake,” he pauses, his blue eyes serious, his next words freezing the air in TK’s lungs. “Or not trying at all, and losing out completely on the great guy you’ve obviously fallen for?”

TK stares at his dad, and this time when his eyes burn, he doesn’t hold back the tears that roll down his cheek. “Damn, dad,” he says softly, wiping at his face. “Way to not soften the blow.”

Owen chuckles gently, his expression loving, supportive, and a little amused. TK smiles back, knowing the answer.

“Can I borrow your car?” he questions, earning a large smile from Owen in return as he digs into his pocket. He places his keys in TK’s hand.

“Go get your guy.”

 ֍֍֍

 The drive over to Carlos’ is a quick one, but that doesn’t mean TK doesn’t have enough time to second-guess himself and work his nerves up into a frenzy. By the time he pulls into Carlos’ driveway, he’s practically vibrating with nervous energy.

He bounces up the small pathway and knocks on the door sharply before he can stop himself to think that Carlos might be in bed. It takes a few minutes for the living room lights to go on, and maybe another minute before the door opens.

“TK?” Carlos questions, his expression tired and confused. He’s shirtless, just a pair of soft-looking sleeping shorts on. TK looks at his face, and his heart lurches; underneath the tiredness, Carlos’ eyes look red and a little puffy. “What – “

TK doesn’t let him finish, Carlos has obviously cried tonight, and he’s the reason. He takes a step forward, wrapping his arms around Carlos’ waist, hoping his hug is welcomed.

He feels Carlos tense up, jerking in surprise. TK holds his breath, letting it out in a hard exhale when Carlos finally wraps his arms around TK’s shoulders and hugs him back tightly.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispers over and over into the crook of Carlos’ neck. His heart thundering with gratitude when Carlos’ body loses more of its tension.

Carlos sighs against the side of TK’s face. “You don’t have to apologize,” he whispers into his skin.

“I do,” TK answers, pulling back to look at Carlos. “I have been hurting you, and that’s the last thing in the world I want to do, Carlos. You have to know that.”

Carlos sighs again, taking a step back out of TK’s hold. “Come in,” he says, gesturing at the living room.

TK passes Carlos and sits on the couch, licking his lips nervously as he waits for Carlos to join him. He turns to face him when Carlos sits down.

“You’ve been crying,” TK says as he takes Carlos in again, his stomach twists when Carlos just shrugs in response. “I’m sorry.”

Carlos shakes his head. “You don’t have to apologize,” he tells him quietly. “You can’t help how you feel or don’t feel about me. I knew what I was getting into. I knew you just wanted to keep this light. I’m the one that went along and fell for you anyway.”

TK takes a sharp inhale, feeling his heart soar at Carlos’ words. Before coming over, he knew that Carlos had feelings for him, to hear him be so honest sends a spike of fear, but even more powerful is the sense of joy that overcomes him.

“Carlos,” TK starts, reaching out to take his hand, grateful when Carlos lets him, even going as far as covering it with his own. “You have to understand I didn’t plan for you at all,” he tells him, swallowing around the lump in his throat before he continues. “I came to Austin nursing a broken heart that wrecked me so bad I lost years of sobriety over it. Getting involved with anyone so quickly after my breakup was the last thing on my mind, especially with someone as wonderful as you. All I have been focusing on is my pain, and trying to keep my head above water.”

“I know that, sweetheart. I know you’ve been hurting badly; it takes time to heal,” Carlos squeezes his hand, and his expression is so full of understanding and compassion, it leaves TK in awe, and well, in love.

“That’s just it, though,” he says quickly, leaning forward in his rush to explain how things have changed. “I don’t hurt when I’m with you. When I think about you, I get excited about the next time I’m going to see you. And then when we spend time together, I’m filled with warmth and contentment,” he smiles, mostly at himself; he’s been an idiot not to realize this sooner. “For a while now, you, Carlos Reyes, have been the definition of happiness for me.”

“Really?” Carlos whispers, his expression tentative and hopeful.

TK nods, he raises their joined hands to his chest. “I have to admit that it’s scared me; I didn’t plan to care for anyone the way I care for you.”

“I don’t want you to be scared, TK,” Carlos answers quietly.

TK smiles again. “I’m always going to be a little scared, Carlos,” he says, reaching out to touch his cheek, swallowing a sigh when Carlos instantly leans into the touch. “How I feel about you means that you have the power to hurt me.”

Carlos opens his mouth, but TK continues before he can say anything.

“Caring about you also means being terrified of messing this up,” he says carefully.

“I worry about that too,” Carlos answers. “I don’t want to push you into something you might not be ready for.”

“You haven’t,” TK reassures him. Carlos has been letting him set the rules and the speed to them from the start. Even now, TK knows that if he tells him he’s not ready yet, Carlos will be nothing but understanding.

“I told my dad about tonight – well, I told him about everything,” he confesses, laughing softly at the surprised look Carlos gives him. “Yeah. By the way, he already knew we’re involved and was messing with us the other day,” he tells him, grinning when Carlos cringes. “Anyway, my dad asked what was scarier, giving us a fair shot and making mistakes along the way – or not trying at all. Not making any mistakes but also losing out on the chance of us being amazing together.”

Carlos visibly swallows before shifting closer into TK’s space. TK follows until their faces are inches away. “So, what’s the answer?”

TK smiles, his heart racing when Carlos does the same as he gets closer still. Carlos lets out a soft puff of air when TK brushes his lips against his. The kiss is chaste and unhurried.

“Tyler – “ he sighs when TK ends the kiss to rub his nose against his. “Are you sure?”

TK pulls back to make sure Carlos is looking at him. “Yes, I am. I want this. I want us,” he answers, relieved by how sure he feels. He licks his lips before biting down on the bottom one. “I mean – if that’s what you want too.”

Carlos lets out a huff, but the smile on his face is so bright it could rival the sun. “Keep up, Strand,” he teases, tugging TK forward again until their mouths are pressed against each other. “It’s all I want,” he says between them.

TK grins into the kiss Carlos gives him, moaning softly when their mouths part and their tongues dance over the other. The kiss goes from zero to sixty in a second, and TK finds himself groaning in pleasure from the wet heat of Carlos’ mouth and the hard press of his frame as he pushes him back on the couch, covering him with his half-naked body.

“Wait,” he gets out, letting out a breath as Carlos quickly unbuttons his shirt and starts kissing down his chest. “Baby, wait. I have something to ask you.”

Carlos whines, flicking his tongue over TK’s left nipple, causing him to gasp, his body responding instantly before Carlos pulls up to look at him expectantly.

TK lets out a shaky breath as he takes him in, his skin flushed, his warm brown eyes a few shades darker, and so much love and desire for him on his face that TK has to wonder how even for a second, he thought he could do without this.

“Wanna be my boyfriend?” he asks, laughing joyfully as Carlos lights up, both of them remembering how he asked this just a few days ago. “For real this time?”

Carlos presses into him more, his muscular body anchoring TK to the couch, enveloping him in his warmth. His face, inches away from his as he smiles sweetly at him, and TK knows he loves him.

“There’s nothing, TK Strand,” he answers, his beautiful brown eyes shining. “That I want more.”

#911 lone star #tarlos #tarlos fic #911 lone star fic #tk x carlos #my writing

[seanfalco]

Double Trouble | Misfits Timeline Anomaly’Verse

a/n: The next installment of my collab with @super-unpredictable98 💚 featuring our girls: Win and Lydia. Follows The Aftermath. I know I said I was gunna post this on Sunday, but I wanted to post something today to cheer me up and I’m having such a fun time writing with Flor. 💖

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Language, Mild sexual content, Alcohol (nothing too intense)

——

"Does she know about Barry?" Nathan whispered as he and Lydia arrived at the Community Centre.

"She knows everything," Lyddie laughed.

"Everything?"

"Well, almost everything... Calm down, it's gonna be alright." Lydia sat down and took a deep breath. She was just as nervous, but didn't want to show it.

Nathan hadn’t let go of Win’s hand the entire time as they walked to the Community Centre and she could feel his nerves radiating off him in waves, only serving to make her more anxious too. When they turned the corner however and Lydia and the other Nathan came into view he nearly stopped in his tracks.

“Holy shit, you weren’t jokin’. He looks exactly like me.”

“I told you,” Win hissed, giving his arm a gentle tug to get him moving again until they were standing face to face with the other couple.

Lydia's heart lept in her chest. Two Nathans... Yeah that was hot, but two Nathans and Win? That was a dream come true.

"Hey there!" Lyddie tried not to sound awkward, which was hard given the circumstances. "Nathan, this is Win. Win, this is Nathan, but I think you know that already."

"Jesus Christ..." Nathan mumbled, staring at his clone.

Win smiled hesitantly at Lydia while her Nathan’s mouth fell open. “I know we’re th’same an’ all, but I swear I’m slightly better lookin’,” he muttered with a twist of his lips before subtly eyeing Lydia.

“Nathan!” Win hissed, rolling her eyes.

"Better lookin'..." Nate scoffed. "How many girls traveled in time for you, huh?"

"Natty, I can't believe you're falling for your own wind-up," Lydia giggled as her cheeks flushed. Seemed like every Nathan had the same effect on her.

The other Nathan’s brows shot up at his comeback. “Yeah, well, how many girls have decided t’share your immortality with you and spend eternity t’gether?” he exclaimed, jabbing his finger in his look alike’s chest.

Win dragged her hand down her face before stepping between the two to split them up. “Can we stop with th’ dick measurin’, please?”

Her Nathan’s lips twisted. “Yeah well I bet mine’s bigger!”

“Nathan, what’re you doing?” she hissed, pulling him away a few paces. “This isn’t helping! You don’t have t’be jealous of him. He’s you!” she cried exasperatedly. “Now, behave,” she begged, giving him a pleading look.

Nathan’s smug grin dissipated as he looked at her. “‘m sorry, okay? I’ll... I’ll try.” Clearing his throat, he straightened and approached once more.

"Did you see the way that bastard was lookin' at'cha?" Nathan muttered angrily and Lydia rolled her eyes. "And you got all giggly for what?"

"Nats, stop being such a baby, of course he looked at me, he's you, and you’re attracted to me, so he must be as well. Just like you must be attracted to Win?"

"Well, she's cute, but he..."

"I love you, there's nothing to worry about," Lydia assured him as Win and her Nathan came back.

Nathan heaved an exasperated sigh, but thrust his hand out in front of the other Nathan, waiting for him to shake. “Guess I’ll play nice, for Win’s sake.”

"Oh really? 'Cause I was gonna..."

"Nathan!" Lydia cut him off, somehow knowing he was gonna try to keep bickering.

"Alright, but just because I love yeh." Nathan shook his clone's hand.

Win flashed Lyddie an apologetic smile, tucking her short hair behind her ear. For a moment she let her gaze linger before returning her attention to the two Nathans.

“Did you happen t’know about any of this?” Win’s Nathan was asking, giving Lydia a pointed look.

"Well, you see..." Lydia had to put a lot of effort into looking away from Win and her beautiful smile. "I found out recently. It might be my fault, but it might be Simon's, I don't really know."

Nathan still looked slightly confused but he shrugged. “Okay, I guess it doesn’t matter whose fault it is. But I was more talkin’ about, did yeh know about them,” he exclaimed pointing from Win to Lydia and back while raising his eyebrows pointedly.

"Well, yeah," Nathan smiled smugly. "Lyddie told me all about their little night out... Why? Ya didn't know?"

Nathan spluttered indignantly. “You’re tellin’ me you knew about it beforehand? And y’weren’t the least bit jealous? At all?” he demanded.

"Not beforehand, but... Y'know, I had a gut feelin'," he shrugged, surprised at the reaction. "I wasn't jealous as much as I was horny. Can you imagine these two?"

"Oh, God..." Lydia shook her head with a smile.

Win rolled her eyes, she could already see the differences in their two Nathans and she had to fight back a smirk. Her Nathan considered for a moment, looking between his girlfriend and Lydia appraisingly, as if imagining it for himself. “Okay, maybe y’have a point,” he admitted, a hint of a smile curling his lips.

"I'm glad you can see eye to eye on something, boys." Lydia raised one eyebrow, idly playing with her colorful hair. "Should we get a drink? Get to know each other better…?"

"Yeah, I wanna know about this sharin' your immortality thing, how does it work?" Nathan asked, seeming much more relaxed now.

“Sounds good t’me,” Win exclaimed, taking Nathan’s hand, while itching to reach out and take Lyddie’s in her other.

——

“So, Win’s basically a leech,” Nathan was explaining to his twin, yelping in pain as Win jabbed her fist into his bicep.

“I hate it when y’call me that!” she growled, turning her attention to the other Nathan.

“What he means is, I can borrow anyone in close proximity’s power, if they have one. I used to have t’touch them for it to work, but it’s getting more powerful. Simon thinks eventually I might even be able to like project the powers I’ve shared to other people in a similar way.”

"I think he's right, Si knows about this king of thing... I think your power is awesome, you're arguably the most powerful one." Lyddie let her chin rest on her fists, a silly smile tugging at her lips as she watched Win.

"Careful there, Lollipop," her Nathan teased. "You're droolin' a bit."

"You twat," Lydia leaned back, her cheeks burning from embarrassment.

Win cleared her throat, flushing a little at Lydia’s praise, flashing her a smile. “I dunno, I don’t feel all that powerful, but if it lets me stay with Nathan, then I’d never get rid of it.”

"I wouldn't either. If I'm being honest, that's the main reason why I bought my self-healing... but I never mention it because Nathan's already cocky enough. Both of them." Lydia looked between the two clones with a sigh.

“You got that right,” Win murmured, shooting a fond glance at the Nathan sitting next to her. “You guys want another round of beers?” she asked, noticing how low their glasses were, jumping up before anyone could answer and heading to the bar.

"I'll help you," Lydia exclaimed, eagerly following Win to the bar, leaving the two Nathans alone. "This is going better than I expected," she mused, flashing Win a smile.

"Hey, y'know what we gotta do, right?" Lyddie's Nathan smirked mischievously, making sure the girls were gone.

Win’s Nathan cocked an eyebrow at him, having the strangest feeling he knew what this other him was going to say. “A little switcharoo?” he asked, a mirror image of the other Nathan‘s grin spreading across his face.

"Wow, it's like we're the same person." Lydia's Nathan nodded. "D'you think they’ll notice?"

Lydia caught the two boys talking out of the corner of her eye, but she was too busy watching Win leaning over the counter to worry about them.

“I’d sure hope they would,” Win’s Nathan laughed. “It’ll be a little test to see how well they really know us. But hands off th’goods, yeah!” he added after a second thought, pointing meaningfully at the other him. Not exactly fond of the idea of him touching his girlfriend just yet.

"Hey, you too!" Lyddie's Nathan replied, almost offended. "Besides, Lyds would notice right away if y'did anythin', you don't know the tricks..."

“Oh, she would, would she? Maybe I’m just a better lover than you. Besides, whatever tricks you have I have too,” Win’s Nathan retorted, but the two quickly switched places while the girl’s backs were turned. “Maybe she’d like it better.”

"I think I finally understand why people call me a twat so often," Lyddie's Nathan mused. "I'd like t'see you try, but it would be too pathetic."

Before Win’s Nathan could make a comeback the girls were heading back to their booth, drinks in hand. “What did you guys talk about while we were gone?” Win asked sliding into the bench next to Lyddie’s Nathan, who promptly slipped his arm around her waist, drawing a dirty look from the Nathan across from him.

"Yeah, I'm curious too." Lydia handed Win's Nathan his beer, staring at him with an expression her fiance knew very well, so aptly named ‘her horny face’.

Win's Nathan swallowed his anger and smiled, draping his arm defiantly around Lyddie's shoulder. "Is something wrong?" she asked, noticed the lingering silence that seemed to eat them alive.

“No! No, nothing’s wrong,” the Nathan with his arm around Lydia answered quickly, flashing her his most charming grin. “We were just talkin’ bout... guy stuff. Y’know?”

"Interesting," Lydia mused distractedly as she watched as Win's Nathan take a long drink, his adam's apple moving slowly with each swallow, something her Nathan quickly noticed, twisting his lips disdainfully.

"I love to talk about guy stuff," she murmured as she looked around the table, her gaze sweeping over the two Nathans and Win. She couldn't help but imagine them all spoiling her at the same time, or even better... punishing her. Moving closer to the Nathan by her side, she placed her legs on his lap and leaned her head against his shoulder, pressing a kiss to his neck.

Win’s Nathan stiffened momentarily as he felt Lydia’s lips on him, his breath catching in his throat. This time it was Lydia’s Nathan’s turn to look sour, quickly turning in his seat to catch Win’s lips, surprising her with a rather heated kiss before directing a smug grin at the other Nathan while Win caught her breath.

“Not that I’m complaining,” she murmured, her hand still curled lightly in Lyddie’s Nathan’s shirt where it had wandered as he kissed her. “But what was that for?”

"Y'just look so sexy today, couldn't resist," Lydia's Nathan murmured in the pettiest way possible.

"Um... so, funny stor--" Lydia began awkwardly only to be cut off when Win's Nathan decided to retaliate, pulling Lydia close, trying to kiss her even more eagerly, his hand sliding down her back. She was already having the most unholy thoughts, so uninhibited, she kissed him back, one hand firmly squeezing his thigh.

Nathan couldn’t help but moan softly as her hand traveled upwards and the Nathan next to Win scowled. Not wanting to be outdone, he pulled Win closer as well, his tongue slipping between her parted lips as she clutched tighter at his shirt, nipping at his lip as she pulled back.

“Nathan, really, what are you doing?” she murmured, looking up at him. “What’s gotten into you?” At first she thought it was just more of the same competitiveness as earlier, each Nathan trying to outdo the other again.

"What? I thought we were all havin' fun." Lyddie's Nathan gave his look-alike a death glare.

"You two are so weird." Lydia didn’t wanna complain as the Nathan next to her started kissing her neck. In fact, she wanted to drag everyone home, but something felt off. "Are we really doing this in public, Nats?"

“Course, it just makes it more exciting doesn’t it?” he murmured against her skin.

“I dunno, this just feels like another competition,” Win mused, her breath hitching as Lyddie’s Nathan’s hand traveled to her hips, pressing her into the back of the booth.

Lyddie felt deep inside that something was wrong, but it was so hard to concentrate with Nathan fondling her and kissing her chest, however an idea came to her that could either fuck her over or solve the puzzle.

"Nats, why don't you tell Winnie about my little secret?" she asked, smiling coyly, while her fiance tried not to laugh, thinking 'good luck with that'.

The Nathan at her side lifted his face, panic filling him as he tried to think how to answer. "Which one, babe? You have so many," he exclaimed.

Damn it, he was right about that, Lydia thought. But he would know which one, right? "Y’know, that thing I don't let you say. You can say it, I trust everyone enough here," she pushed.

"Uhhh," Nathan hesitated and Win caught Lyddie's eye, understanding now what had felt off. Hadn't her Nathan been wearing a hoodie today? Not his flannel lined jacket.

"Now I'm interested," she mused, sitting up straighter and tilting her head as she fixed the Nathan across from her a curious look. "I wanna know Lyddie's little secret."

"Me too, man, I'm really curious!" Lyddie's Nathan flashed him a shit-eating grin, despite the fact they were about to both lose the game.

"So... why don't you spit it out?" Lydia twisted one of Win's Nathan's curls with her finger. "You did tell everyone back when we were in community service."

"I... I, pshhhh, that was so long ago, how d'you expect me t'remember that?" he blustered and Win narrowed her eyes at him.

"That's funny, you were talking about it just yesterday with me. Unless you hit your head really hard while we were gone, something isn't right here,” Lydia exclaimed, looking between the two guys.

"Hmmm, how about you, huh babe?" Win murmured, turning her eyes on the Nathan next to her, tracing her finger down the side of his face. "How about you tell Lyddie something about me that only you know?"

"You... you do that thing--" Lyddie's Nathan's grin disappeared, "--when you're feelin' a certain way, y'know, the thing."

Win tilted her head. Oh, it was quite obvious what was going on now, but she wanted to make them both sweat a little bit. "You'll hafta be a little more specific than that, Nathan baby," she purred, her finger falling from the side of his face to catch on the collar of his t-shirt, tugging it down. The way his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed was exactly the reaction she was hoping for.

"Well, you... you... like t'eat food and..." Nathan sputtered helplessly. "Hey, man, what was that secret you were about t'tell us? I don't wanna interrupt or anythin'," he exclaimed suddenly, trying to divert their attention.

Win turned to Lydia and cocked an eyebrow before turning her gaze on both Nathans. "Did you two think you were being clever?"

“What do’you mean--?” Win’s Nathan spluttered.

"We just wanted t'do a little prank," Lyddie's Nathan answered, looking down.

"You might look the same, and you're both wankers, but everything else is different," Lydia laughed. "Not gonna lie, you had me for a second there..."

"What was it? My stellar snoggin' skills?" Win's Nathan asked, sparing a wink for his girlfriend.

"If you knew me at all you'd know that I like my neck kisses a little more aggressive than that... you cocky bastard." Lyddie wrinkled her nose, though a small grin curled her lips.

"HEY! You only call ME that!" Lyddie's Nathan snapped.

"So, now that we've all snogged each other... well, with the exception of th'two of you," Win muttered, gesturing to both Nathans, "which would be kinda weird, are we good? Like ice broken and all that?"

"I'd say so, yeah," Lyddie's Nathan replied, rolling his eyes.

"I think the ice is melted at this point alright,” Lydia mused, “I hope you didn't mind the hands, Natty... I can call you Natty, right?" Lydia flashed him a teasing smile.

Win's Nathan's brows rose at the nickname, his gaze flicking to Win for a moment who looked strangely sullen before he focused on Lydia. "Uhh, sure, I guess?"

Win frowned at the Nathan next to her, but didn't say anything, instead grabbing her glass and chugging her beer suddenly.

Lydia's attention immediately switched back to Win and she tilted her head, a cryptic look on her face.

"Jesus, remind me t'never challenge you to a drinkin' game," Lyddie's Nathan exclaimed, quirking an eyebrow at her, looking impressed.

"Yup," she countered, "I'd drink you under the table," she muttered, setting her glass down harder than she meant to. She wasn't sure why she was so suddenly upset. Maybe it had something to do with the strange feeling she had that Lyddie's Nathan didn't like her much… and it was unsettling to feel that while looking at the face she loved more than anything.

"Hey," Lydia said softly, trying to ignore how much it turned her on to see Win chug her beer like that when she noticed her discomfort. "I gotta fix my lipstick, do you wanna come, Winnie?"

“Huh?” Win looked up at Lydia, grateful for the distraction, though it was obvious the other woman wanted to get her alone, no doubt to ask her what was wrong. “Yeah, sure,” she replied, making to stand.

“Winnie?” The Nathan next to Lydia yelped. “You never let me call you that!” he whined petulantly, watching the girls walk away.

As soon as the two of them walked into the bathroom, Lydia locked the door and took a deep breath. "What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" she asked, taking Win's hands.

“It’s stupid,” Win muttered, turning her head.

"Oh, come on..." Lyddie pulled Win into her arms. "You can tell me, maybe I can help."

Lydia often considered herself the queen of overthinking, always fighting against her own awkwardness, it was odd to see Win like that.

“I don’t think your Nathan likes me very much. I could... feel it when he kissed me. Like there was nothing there, and it... I dunno, it’s fuckin’ with my head, Lyddie,” she muttered, sniffling softly.

"What do you mean, you didn't feel anything? I mean... I know he has the hots for you, he told me so." Lydia tucked Win's hair behind her ear.

Win rolled her eyes, but leaned into Lyddie’s touch. “Yeah, but it’s... I dunno, it’s not th’same is it? It didn’t feel like when I kiss you, or... my Nathan.” She sighed. “I told you it was stupid.”

"It felt off for me too, but it's nothing wrong with you or me, it's just so new and we're all getting used to it... it's not stupid," Lyddie insisted, kissing Win's forehead.

“You’re right, of course you’re right,” Win murmured, wrapping her arms around Lydia. “Thank you.”

"You can always talk to me,” Lydia exclaimed. “I'm not just here for the sex, even though it is some amazing sex..." she joked, pressing her forehead to Win's.

“Mmm,” Win hummed in agreement. “God, don’t get me thinking about that again or you’ll get me hot all over again,” she teased, brushing Lyddie’s hair from her face to tuck behind her ear as well. “How did I get so lucky to find you and Nathan?” she murmured, smiling softly.

"It serves you right for getting me all hot back there." Lydia grinned. "I think we're both just crazy lucky -- first, struck by lightning, then this."

“Wait, how did I turn you on back there?” Win exclaimed, pulling back slightly to look her in the eye.

"You know... the chugging, that's really sexy," Lydia admitted, blushing, looking down to avoid Win's eyes.

“Oh! Well, that’s certainly good t’know,” Win teased, a grin tugging at her lips. “Maybe I should challenge the boys to a drinking contest,” she laughed, poking Lydia’s steadily darkening cheeks.

Before she could say more a heavy knock at the door was followed by a familiar voice and somehow Win just knew it was her Nathan. “Hey? You okay in there? Win? Lydia? Don’t tell me you’re shaggin’ in there!”

"Oh! Oh, Win, please! I'm almost there!" Lydia moaned mockingly as she headed to the door to unlock it. "By the way, that sounds like the best idea anyone has ever had," she murmured in response to Win’s suggestion.

Win laughed harder, mussing up her hair to make it look like they’d been fooling around a little, her eyes instantly seeking Nathan as soon as Lydia pulled the door open. “Well, it doesn’t smell like sex in here,” he pointed out as he leaned in the door way, his gaze running over Lydia before finding Win. “Has Win told you how much she likes doin’ it in public toilets?”

"No, she hasn't." Lydia turned to look at Win. It was only fair she got to know one of her secrets as well. "Glad to know," she mused before frowning dramatically. “We weren’t having sex, just heavily snogging.”

Nathan leaned in closer, frowning thoughtfully. “Then how come your lipstick‘s not all smudged, huh?”

Suddenly the second Nathan appeared behind the first. “What’s goin’ on in here?” he asked impatiently, his eyes seeking Lydia first.

“Startin’ to get little crowded in here, huh Lyds?” Win asked pointedly.

"I agree, it's getting crowded..." Lydia nodded.

"Wait! If you're gonna shag you promised t'let me watch!" Lyddie's Nathan protested.

"Shag? We're just... Talking about girl stuff," she winked at Win, taking her hand.

“Yeah, th’shaggin’ll happen later,” Win said with a wink as she passed, grabbing her Nathan’s hand as well.

As they left the pub, her Nathan pulled Lydia to the side, wrapping both arms around her waist. "What happened?" she asked, taking her by surprise. "Y'know, this wasn't as traumatic as I thought it was gonna be..."

"I'm glad you think so." Lydia huffed a laugh. "Y'like her, don'tcha?" she asked, nodding toward Win.

"I guess I do…” he replied, chewing his lip. “But be honest now, I'm a better kisser than her Nathan, right?"

Lydide didn't miss the shadow of insecurity in his voice. "He doesn't know what I like, but you do. We've been snogging for over a year, that's a lot of practice."

"Good," Nathan smirked. "As long as I'm better than him..."

As Lydia and her Nathan moved off to the side, Win leaned against the side of the pub, distractedly fishing a cigarette from her jacket pocket.

"Hey, you okay?" Nathan asked softly, trying to catch a glimpse of her downturned face.

"Yeah, 'm fine," she murmured without looking up. At her answer Nathan frowned, snatching the cigarette from her lips to get her attention and she huffed in annoyance, reaching for another one until Nathan stopped her.

"Win," he insisted and she sighed, deflating. "Are y'mad about the prank we played? Or, or th'kiss? Because I admit, I might've wanted t'get back at you a little," he confessed.

Win rolled her eyes, but she managed a smile. "So does that mean you like Lyddie?" she asked.

Nathan grinned as he slung his arm over her shoulder, leaning against her side. "Yeah, she's cute. Never thought I'd meet a girl as handsy as you," he teased.

"Though... that other Nathan," he mused with a twist of his lips, "I dunno how I feel about you snoggin' him."

Win shrugged, looking up at him. "Yeah, well, if it's any consolation, I like kissing you more."

#misfits #nathan young #nathan young x oc #nathan x win #nathan x lyddie #otp: green apple lollipop #timeline anomaly verse #oc stuff #collaboration

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

Mamihlapinatapai Or The Season Of Longing

A/n: Here is another fic. Since it's been raining like crazy and I have spent way too much time indoors because of the weather, I decided to write this. The poem featured in this fic is called Lluvia by Jorge Luis Borges. I finally figured out how to put things under the cut so that my followers don't have to scroll through a large post 😅 It's another piece set before Doofus Rick and the reader were dating. Feel free to check out the other fics in my Masterpost.

In this fic the reader isn't the only one longing

___________

Imagine that instead of a blue sky, there was an off white, almost grey sky, and what should've been wispy white clouds were blankets of rumbling thunderstorms without a drop of rain; that was how you thought you might've felt. There was a name to this feeling, but you weren't sure what to call it; as though you were missing something you couldn't place; not sadness or grief, but whatever came in between. No, nothing bad had happened, and there hadn't been any disagreements between you and Rick, but something did occur which fed this alien feeling. It seemed that only a few days ago you were alright, but then you invited him over and he had a chance to look over those books you had mentioned. That day he had returned home from work and came over right after; offering his best of smiles and a piece of candy from his labcoat pocket as soon as he crossed the threshold of your doorway; it was nothing out of the ordinary, but it was charming all the same.

With swiftness, you had led him to your hallway closet so that you could bring down the box of books sitting on the upper shelf; that was where you kept a great portion of your father's old books. Father had been a fan of languages and botany, but ventured into the bizarre mystery from time to time; being a master of neither, you had hidden them away for a later date; mostly because the memories were more disheartening then they space they took up. With all your might, you stood on the tips of your toes in a vain attempt to reach, but your fingers barely brushed the edge of it; you should’ve just used the step ladder. It was Rick's small huff of effort which alerted you to his nearness as he unexpectedly stretched up and grabbed said box when you had a little trouble. Goodnaturedly, he carried it towards the kitchen while you took a moment to calm your girlish heart.

Coaxed away from your thoughts by the dusty cardboard and the delighted guest, you nodded lightly to give him the go-ahead to help himself. His gentle presence made him a joy to study; not in the way he examined things in the world or of the world, but in the way one does when fascinated by a butterfly or a fresh bloom hidden in an otherwise barren bush; he was a miracle. With care he pulled out one book after another, glancing through their pages and making piles for which one's he'd like to borrow. In a way he seemed to belong to this house; as though what wasn't found within pages of novels could be sought, and felt beyond reason; flowing calmly and relished in these favorable moments. Although it wasn't much, and that borrowing books could be of little consequence except to the reader itself, you hated to see him go.

Now thinking of it days later, you found yourself wondering about its significance as well as a plethora of other things as you walked to the store and back. You hadn't needed anything in particular, but you felt slightly better being outdoors; the fresh air allowed you to believe you could think better. The sounds of light traffic and grass being cut somewhere along in the neighborhood felt timeless as you walked around the corner, almost home. The wind blew, rustling your clothes and you narrowly lost the receipt that hung out of your pocket, but that didn’t bother you.

Rain clouds were rolling in from the west and you hoped it wouldn't rain before you reached home. And the closer you got, the more you could see the familiar house of your lovable neighbor. A smile couldn't help but stretch across your face at the thought and you hoped he was home so that you could ask if he'd had a chance to look those books over but that alien feeling bloomed again; the sinking, drowning, heavy feeling. How you wanted to be with him despite what reason thought was logical. The dance of your heart would've loved nothing more than to place a dozen or more kisses upon his smile lines while he stammered into the next week. Oh, your foolish heart had taken on a personification of its own these days; speaking and thinking of itself and it's wants like a second brain; draining you whenever it appeared.

Yet, before you knew it you had reached home and dropped off what you had bought before stepping out again. From your front yard, you could see that he was in the garage and you questioned whether you should go over and attempt to alleviate this feeling; it’d vanish whenever you were with him. You must’ve stood there thinking for a while as to what ought to be done for the pitter-patter of rain broke this trance-like state and you ran back towards your front porch. How silly you have become as of late with this strange crush of yours. Weren’t you past these sort of schoolgirl feelings? Perhaps, but it was more than that.

You sunk into your wicker bench and listened to the sound of the rain as it hit the roof and walkway. The earthy scent of the lawn and the splash of puddles as cars drove by was a welcomed distraction. A nap didn’t seem like such a bad idea. Yet, gentle footsteps and the sound of a closed umbrella woke another sort of feeling within you; that of hope.

“Golly, it - it sure is raining cats and dogs t-today.” he commented.

The words were out of your mouth as soon as you were aware of him; of this creature who walked out of a daydream. “I didn’t think I’d get to see you.”

“Huh? Are you alright? Did s-something happen?”

“I'm fine,” you answered; all at once conscious of him and your surroundings. “it’s just...I thought about coming over to ask if you checked out any of the books but it started to rain.”

“Th-that's part of the reason I'm here,” he confessed. “I-I had noticed you went out for a-a walk and wanted to make sure you had come home safely.”

“As you can see, I made it back in one piece. Although, I did get my hair wet. Though, that's the least of my problems.”

“Do you mind if I-I-I take a seat?”

Patting the space beside you, you nodded. “Not at all.”

He set his umbrella to the side before he seated himself and turned towards you. His warmth radiated from him and being as tall as he was, the bench might’ve been too low to the ground since his legs seemed to stick out too much, but he made no complaint. From his inner labcoat pocket, he pulled out a small book. “I thought y-y-you might enjoy this.”

“A book?”

Handing it to you, he commented. “I thought y-you might enjoy this collection of poems. I um - I bookmarked my favorites but I'd like t-t-to know what your thoughts about them would be.”

You knew this whimsical creature was well-read in many respects, but you hadn’t given much thought to the possibility of including works of a more abstract nature. “Sure, that sounds lovely. Though, I hope you don't mind me asking. Do you read works like this often? It's not because I find it strange. Honestly, I find it fascinating and wonderful that you would even consider it, but I ask because I thought….well, I thought you only read serious works related to your work.”

Scratching the back of his neck, he explained. “I read whenever I-I-I find the time and it uh - it usually doesn’t matter what the subject may be. In the pursuit of knowledge, one reads everything. For example, th-the terms and conditions for some computer programs or limited warranties at times list amusing reasons why y-you might be able to get a replacement for a damaged product. It keeps things interesting.”

“I see. It certainly makes sense.”

With a smile, he sighed with contentment as he looked towards the street. “Boy, th-this weather reminds me of a certain poem. It's called um - it's called Lluvia. That's the Spanish word for rain.”

“That's right,” you remembered; his last name should’ve been a reminder enough. “you can speak Spanish. I forget sometimes since you only talk to me in English. So, tell me, how does this poem go?”

“Please forgive me since my Spanish is a-a little rusty.”

Taking a deep breath, he recited calmly. “Bruscamente l-la tarde se ha aclarado, porque y-ya cae la lluvia minuciosa. Cae o cayó. La lluvia es una c-cosa qué sin duda sucede en el pasado. Quien la oye caer ha recobrado, el t-tiempo en que la suerte venturosa. Le r-r-reveló una flor llamada rosa y el curioso color del c-colorado. Esta lluvia que ciega los cristales, alegrará en p-p-perdidos arrabales. Las negras uvas de una parra en cierto. Patio que ya no existe. La mojada, t-tarde me trae la voz, la voz deseada, de mi padre que vuelve y que no ha muerto.”

You stared at this man, amazed by his fluency and ability to fascinate you with the simplest things. Yet again, a reason to be marveled by him. “Whoa, I don't know what you said, but it sounded beautiful when you said it.”

Turning towards you, his smile seemed brighter than usual albeit a bit sheepish. "It's n-nothing special."

"But it is, especially since you can think and speak in more than one language. I can't do that."

"I-I can teach you if you'd like."

"No, that's okay. You're busy enough as it is, but I appreciate the thought. You really are so incredibly smart."

"And you…eres maravillosa."

"What?”

His smile faltered a bit, and he thought to himself for a bit on what he was about to say before his smile returned; albeit more gently. “Eres amable y-y dulce. No soy digno de una amiga como tu.”

“Rick,” you started; confused as to why there seemed to be some sort of admission that you weren’t able to understand. “all the poetic talk is lovely, but I don't think it's fair if you reply in a way I can't understand."

"Si pudieras entenderme," he sighed, wringing his hands in the nervous way he did. "me pregunto qué creerías si te expresara cuánto me preocupo por ti."

Raising from the bench, he said to himself. "Si puedo llegar a la luna, algun dia podria...¿Q-que estoy haciendo?"

"Rick?"

“I’m o-okay. I uh - I zoned out there for a second. I’m sorry.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

He studied you for a moment longer; a world of words unsaid in his melancholic glances. Was something secretly hurting him like it was hurting you? You could only wonder as thoughts were drowned out by the sound of the rain.

———————————-

It was warm and comfortable with him sitting beside you. His presence always provided a sense of calm that was softer and sweeter than that of the sedatives that eased your anxiety. Why you could fall asleep right here if it weren’t for that fact that you’d be mortified if you allowed it to happen.

“Are you a-a big fan of the rain?” he wondered.

This question had come after a half-hour of companionable silence. “Hmm, it’s not the rain so much as the memories that accompany it.”

“Do y-you want to talk about it?”

“Only if you don’t mind hearing it.”

“I-I don’t mind.” He reassured you.

“Well,” you started. “my dad enjoyed rainy days since he said the plants almost seemed to smile when rainwater hit their leaves.”

“Th-that’s a nice thought.“

“Yeah, I thought so too. When it rains like this, and I’m watching it fall,” you softened; feeling lighter because you had someone to share your thoughts with. “it feels like I’m looking through a curtain. It’s not completely see-through, but the shapes I can see appear softer and more mysterious like how you must’ve appeared when you showed up. Too bad I wasn’t paying attention.”

Oh, you did not just say that out loud. “Or something like that.” You added.

If he had noticed you had tripped over your words then he gave no indication of it. “Gosh, I-I never thought of it that way b-before. I usually see it as part of the pr-precipitation cycle and it smells nice, doesn't it?”

“It does. I wouldn’t mind bottling up this scent, but then it might lose what makes it special.”

Yet, if you could bottle up his scent, it would’ve been nice to keep nearby just in case you wanted a little piece of him.

“That um - that reminds me,” he brightened. “I had baked some mandarin scones before walking over tonight, and I-I-I thought you’d like t-t-t-t-to try them but I didn’t want to risk them getting wet. I-I thought we could share some over tea tomorrow if that’s alright with you.”

Tea time with Rick was like what others did over rounds of drinks; it was to unwind and talk about the day; minus the drunkenness and the unforeseen embarrassment. “Don’t you have to work tomorrow?”

“Gee, I um - I was supposed to, but there was a shift change. Actually, I have a shift t-t-tonight in a-about an hour, but I had wanted to make sure you were alright before I left.”

“Why?”

“Because I-I thought you were going t-to walk over.”

So he had thought the same thing. “Oh, well like I said earlier I had planned to or thought to, but the weather put a damper on things.”

“Yeah.”

“Though, isn’t it funny that we both had the same thought?”

He smiled at that. “It's because gr-great minds think alike.”

What right did he have to be this adorable you thought. All you could do was smile up at him and fight the urge to run your fingers through what appeared to be soft hair; as odd as you had initially thought his haircut was when you met him, you couldn’t imagine him any other way. Still, drawn to his bright, kind eyes, you wondered if you were being attracted by some invisible force to test the limits of this friendship, and yet you knew well enough that now wasn’t the time. Following a slow blink of his, you mentioned without looking away. “Now that we have gotten to see each other, it's probably time to let you go. I wouldn’t want you to be late for work.”

“Y-you’re right.” he straightened; jumping up on his feet with much more agility then seemed possible for someone so mature. “Until next time.”

There he was leaving again when you didn’t want him to. Still, you had no right or claim to him. At least, not yet. “See you tomorrow.”

Grabbing his umbrella, he motioned to open it but paused, and slowly, but surely turned back; his smile almost boyish. “Gosh, I-I will see you tomorrow, right?”

Clutching the book of poems to your breast, you giggled. “Whichever way it may be, we will. I promise.”

Fin

#doofus rick x reader #doofus rick #rick sanchez x female reader #j19z7 #j19ζ7 #j-19-zeta-7 #rick and morty #rnm fanfiction #rnm #Rick x reader #my fanfiction #my works #rick sanchez x reader #Rick Sanchez

[notes-from-sarah]

Poinsettias for Maria

Link on Fanfiction.net

Link on Archive of Our Own

Rating: G/K

Summary: It’s Christmas time in Los Angeles and a young girl decides to bring an offering to the shrine of Santa Maria in the hills. When a bandido shows up to rob her it’s up to Zorro to save her and ensure the gift makes it to the shrine. Set during season two or after. One-shot.

A/N: In Mexico the Poinsettia flower is known as La Flor de la Nochebuena (Flower of the Holy Night)

"Tomorrow," said the priest to the congregation at the end of Mass, "Padre Felipe and the community of the mission will make a pilgrimage to the shrine of Our Lady in the hills. They are bringing offerings to place at her shrine for Christmas and the community will also offer prayers of thanks for the prosperous year we've had. I encourage all of you to join Padre Felipe at dawn as we begin the pilgrimage." With that he dismissed the congregation.

Exiting the church Diego nudged his father. "What do you think, shall we go on the pilgrimage with Padre Felipe?"

Alejandro shook his head. "I'm afraid I'm a little too old for that sort of thing, Diego. I think you should go, however, it would be a nice gesture."

"I think I shall, Father." Diego nodded.

"What will you bring as an offering?"

Diego thought for a moment. "During the summer I made a bouquet from some of Mother's flowers and left it to dry, I think it'd make a good gift for Our Lady."

"Pardon me, señores."

Diego and Alejandro paused to look at the girl who had addressed them. It was Mercedes, the ten-year-old daughter of Clara and Marcos who made and sold pots in the pueblo.

Mercedes curtsied in an attempt to be polite and said again, "I beg your pardon, señores, may I please ask you a question?"

"Why of course," said Diego. "What's on your mind?"

"I heard you say you are going to bring flowers to Our Lady tomorrow." Mercedes hoped that admitting she had overheard them talking didn't sound like she was eavesdropping.

"That's right," said Diego, "the shrine of Our Lady looks so beautiful when it's decorated with flowers. Do you like the idea?"

"Oh, yes, Don Diego, I think it will be the most beautiful thing ever. I also want to give her a gift of flowers, but there are not so many flowers that bloom in the winter." Mercedes hesitated a moment before continuing. "I know that you live outside of town, Don Diego, Don Alejandro, and I was wondering if you'd allow me to search in the hills behind your hacienda for something beautiful to bring to the shrine; flowers, a beautiful stone from a creek bed, or maybe some feathers. Everyone knows that the de la Vega land is the most beautiful in all of California, I'd be sure to find a suitable gift for Our Lady there."

"Of course you can," said Alejandro. "Tell your parents and you can go to the hacienda with the Cresencia and the other servants, and when you are done Bernardo will bring you back to town."

Mercedes beamed. "Muchas gracias, Don Alejandro, Don Diego, I can't thank you enough."

...

Mercedes searched through the hills of the de la Vega rancho. The sun was shining and the skies were clear making the day noticeably warmer than it had been for some time. Mercedes quickly combed through the lands closest to the hacienda before moving further afield. She wasn't sure exactly what she was looking for, but she would know it when she found it. The shrine of Santa Maria deserved something special.

He explorations led her to the crest of a hill where she saw from the top a crumbling hacienda that looked long abandoned. In the courtyard a flash of crimson caught her eye. The color was magnificent, she had to find out what it was. Deep inside she just knew that whatever that color belonged too was going to be her offering for the pilgrimage.

Scrambling down from the hilltop she made her way to the gate of the old building. Over the doorway some words were painted and a symbol that Mercedes knew as the sign of the del Toro family. They had moved away from Los Angeles many years ago, but people still talked about them. There was a rumor that their old hacienda was haunted.

Steeling herself, Mercedes entered the courtyard. No ghost was going to keep her from finding a good gift to bring to the shrine. All the same, she said a quick prayer for protection as the gate creaked open, barely hanging on to its hinges.

Across the courtyard, directly in front of the gate, was a flaming cluster of deep red flowers. They were the most beautiful thing Mercedes had ever seen. Checking to ensure she wasn't observed by anyone (living or dead) she raced across the patio and dropped to her knees in front of the amazing discovery. Gingerly, she reached out a hand and stroked one of the red blossoms. It wasn't delicate like she expected it to be.

Reaching into the pouch on her sash she withdrew her small knife and carefully cut a stem as close to the ground as possible. Holding the flower in her hand she marveled at it. The deep, dark green of the leaves, the brilliant red of the flower standing in stark contrast. In her minds eye she had a vision of the pilgrims coming up the hillside the following morning. The day would be golden and sunlight would illuminate the shrine in a most glorious way. And there before the shrine, like a carpet of fire, would be these red flowers. Oh what a sight to behold! She knew what she had to do.

Unlooping her rebozo from around her shoulders, Mercedes laid the cut stem on it. "You will be a most glorious gift," she whispered.

***

Bernardo drove Mercedes back into the pueblo that evening, all the while keeping an eye on the bulging shawl she balanced on her lap. She hadn't shown him what she'd found in the hills behind the hacienda, and honestly, he was a bit curious. With all the adventuring he did with Diego, he knew the countryside around the rancho pretty well. He tried to come up with some idea of something a child would find out there that she might also consider enough of a treasure to gather it to take to the shrine. He didn't come up with much. Perhaps she found a piece of wood in a stream that had been worn smooth into some lovely shape. It was about all he could think of.

When the carriage stopped in front of the plaza Bernardo went around to help the girl down. As he lifted her to the ground the rebozo almost slipped from her arms and tumbled to the ground. Snatching it close to her chest at the last minute, Mercedes sighed with relief.

"You have no idea how valuable this is, señor." Mercedes adjusted the bundle to be more tightly wrapped. "This gift for the shrine is priceless."

Bernardo still had no clue what the gift even was, but he nodded cheerfully all the same.

Mercedes gazed at the bundle in her arms for a moment, speaking to herself, "I will go to the shrine tonight by myself and leave my gift so that the pilgrims tomorrow will be greeted by the loveliest thing they've ever seen." Looking back at Bernardo she smiled. "Thank you again, señor."

Bernardo waved as she ran across the plaza towards her home. She waved back then disappeared down an alley. Turning back to the carriage, Bernardo noticed a man he didn't know. He was leaning against the well wearing the nondescript garb of a drifter, but the way he watched where Mercedes went gave Bernardo pause. Climbing back into the carriage, Bernardo headed for home.

…

Bernardo found Alejandro reading in the sala. He tapped Alejandro on the shoulder to get his attention in the politest way possible. While he didn't know that the drifter had overheard Mercedes, or that he intended her any harm, Bernardo had a bad feeling about the girl's plan to make a secret pilgrimage in the dark. After all, even without bandidos, the wild hill country outside of the pueblo was still dangerous. Bears, lions, snakes and other dangers could lurk around every boulder.

Alejandro took off his spectacles and looked up from his book. "What is it Bernardo?"

Bernardo asked where Diego was, he hadn't been able to find him in his room or elsewhere in the hacienda.

"Diego is visiting one of his friends, Ramón I think. Do you need him?"

Bernardo nodded, then shrugged. He wasn't sure if he needed Diego or not, but Diego would know what to do about the information he had.

"Well I'm afraid Diego might not be back for a while. You know how he is when he's with his friends." Alejandro was about to put his spectacles back on when he paused. "Is there some business you think Zorro needs to look into?"

Bernardo nodded uncertainly.

"You don't know?" Alejandro looked at Bernardo carefully. "Well, why don't you tell me what's the matter?"

Bernardo decided he might as well. Alejandro might have some non-Zorro solution to the problem at hand. Putting out his hand at the height of a child he started his story.

"Something short?" Alejandro looked puzzled.

Bernardo tried again. Holding his hands up he traced the form of a woman, then held out his hand at child's height.

"Oh, I see, a short woman."

Not quite what he'd been going for. Repeating the gestures he added some skipping at the end.

Alejandro furrowed his brow. "A short woman was skipping?"

Diego's father had a lot to learn still when it came to interpreting his signs. Bernardo shook his head vigorously, he needed to start over. Trying to think of something the old don would definitely understand, Bernardo pulled out his handkerchief and with a few quick tucks and folds fashioned it into a crude doll. Bernardo pointed to the doll.

"It's a doll." That, at least, was plain enough to Alejandro.

Bernardo nodded encouragingly. Holding the doll in one hand he again held his other hand at child height. Waving the doll back and forth he held it in the spot of the imaginary child.

Alejandro looked at the scene for a long moment. "Are you saying something about a child?"

Bernardo sighed with relief, nodding.

"What child?" said Alejandro, confused.

Bernardo scratched his head, trying to think of a way to remind Alejandro about Mercedes, but the old don got there first.

"Do you mean the little girl, the potters' daughter?" Alejandro leaned forward in his chair.

Bernardo nodded.

"You took her home, didn't you?"

Again, Bernardo nodded.

"Is she in some sort of trouble?" Alejandro put his book on the side table and got to his feet.

Bernardo started to nod, but ended up shrugging half way through.

"Perhaps we should go find Diego after all. I would be very regretful if something would happen to the child."

Bernardo nodded one last time and followed Alejandro out of the sala.

***

The sound of the mission bell rung throughout the darkened countryside marking the hour as nine o'clock. Creeping past her parents with her priceless bundle, Mercedes snuck out of their small home. Her shawl, filled to bursting with her secret treasure, was carefully tied across her back. She knew the way to the shrine and the night was clear. The waxing moon shone brightly, lighting her path. It was almost a sign from heaven.

Mario Alvarado sat outside of the pueblo, waiting for the girl to come bearing her burden. He hoped that she wouldn't decide that she was afraid of the dark last minute and not show at all. He needed her to follow through with her stupid idea to visit the mountain shrine at night. He wasn't a man prone to taking risks, but he could use a break. Nothing seemed easier than taking something priceless from a kid. Since the night was clear, and the weather not so cold, he had opted to follow her at a distance. Once she left the treasure at the shrine, he would swoop in and steal it. A simpler scheme couldn't be found.

He wondered what sort of gift she was going to leave at the shrine. He doubted it would be a figure cast from gold or silver, but there were many other valuable things to be had. Maybe she carried some fine cloth to drape over the statue? Perhaps it was a finely wrought item of brass or copper? It could be a bag or other item of finely tooled leather? The possibilities were seemingly endless. Anything was better than nothing. The girl had said it was priceless, which meant it had to be worth something. All he needed was enough coins to get home, someone was depending on him.

His patience was rewarded. Just after nine he caught sight of the girl with her bundle of promises. The fullness and bulk of the shawl alone told him that the haul would be good. Perhaps it was all that he had imagined – and more. The girl walked quickly through the dark outskirts of the pueblo and headed up the path to the hills.

The girl kept up a good clip leaving Mario at a distance very quickly. He didn't want to be seen or heard by the kid, or anyone else for that matter, but he also didn't want to loose sight of her in the dark either. He quickened his pace to keep her within eyeshot while still staying off the path as much as he could, the last thing he needed was to run into some highwayman.

The brisk walking went on for some time, all the while they were climbing uphill as the path wended to the hilltops. Mario felt a twist in his gut as he tried to mentally prepare himself for what he was about to do. The kid was just leaving the treasure at the shrine, after all, no one would even miss it. At the same time he was a little irritated by the amount of walking being done. Part of him wanted to draw his knife and rob her right here on the path. Convincing himself not to do so, he continued his trailing at a distance. If the kid was robbed there would be much more excitement over it in the pueblo than if the goods just vanished overnight.

...

Mercedes powered through the uphill climb, the most difficult portion of the trail was right near the shrine itself and it left her breathing hard as she crested the hill. It was a sign of devotion to make it all the way to the shrine, and she was most devoted to her cause. She thought about how much easier it would be to climb down from the hilltop when she returned, it would be a sweet reward for her current labors. Keeping her chin up and her eyes on the path ahead she scrambled up the last part of the trail and into the clearing where the shrine was located.

Falling to her knees before the shrine and crossing herself she beamed up at the figure of Santa Maria. Confidentially, she said, "I have brought you an early gift, Santa Maria, I don't know what it's called, but I am most certain you will like them." Catching her breath, Mercedes stayed in a kneeling position before the shrine. "First, however, I will offer you my prayers."

Mario cursed internally at the child's words. He didn't have the time to wait around while she fulfilled her pious duties, she needed to leave her treasure and get back home. From his hiding place on the hillside he saw the shrine bathed in moonlight, the tiny devotee almost illuminated in the pure silvery light. A twinge of guilt panged Mario's conscious, but he quickly squashed it. He had to do this, there was no other choice!

Faintly, the mission bells rang the midnight hour, he couldn't stay here all night. Drawing his knife he pulled a bandanna over his nose. If he was lucky – which he wasn't – but if he was, he would be able to scare her into running away and that would be the end of it.

Leaping from the shadows he brandishing his knife. "Give me the bundle and run away, little girl!"

Mercedes jumped to her feet, eyes wide as she caught sight of the knife. "Please, señor, don't take my gift for the shrine."

Mario took a step towards her. "I said give me the bundle."

Mercedes grabbed the bundle from the ground. "But, this is for Our Lady, you cannot steal her gift."

Mario didn't have time for this. Striding to her he grabbed a handful of the shawl, wrenching it from the kid's grasp.

Mercedes screamed as the rebozo was yanked away from her. The bundle came undone and flowers cascaded over the ground.

Mario stared at the strewn flowers. They weren't a treasure at all, they were absolutely worthless.

"Put down the knife, señor." The firm voice was accompanied by a sharp prick of a blade in Mario's back.

"Señor Zorro!" gasped Mercedes.

Mario glanced over his shoulder, his bandanna slipping from his nose and drooping to his chin. He caught sight of a dark, masked figure, moonlight glinted off the steel blade in his hand. Mario dropped the knife, falling to his knees. "Please," he pleaded, "don't hurt me."

"Are you all right, chica?" Zorro addressed Mercedes. "Did this man hurt you?"

"I'm not hurt, Señor Zorro, the man was only trying to steal my flowers." Mercedes looked at the scattered flowers around her feet.

"Please," said Mario, "I didn't mean her any harm, I didn't even know she was carrying flowers."

"Then why," said Zorro, picking up Mario's dropped knife, "did you follow this girl here and threaten her with a knife?"

"I wanted to wait until she left and quietly take her gift for the shrine, but she wasn't leaving. I thought I'd scare her away, I haven't any time to lose. I was going to take whatever she left and sell it." Mario gulped. He'd heard that Zorro was a fair man, but he'd also heard he could be vicious. A fox has teeth, after all.

Mercedes edged away from the two men and took refuge by the shrine. Her heart was pounding, she didn't know what El Zorro might do to the would-be thief.

"Please, señor," Mario was certain he was pleading for his life. "I just need a few coins so a can get back to my village. I know it's wrong to steal, but I didn't know any other way. I know no one in this town and I must return home as soon as I can."

Zorro walked around Mario so that he stood between him and Mercedes. "And why must you return to your village with such haste? Are you being pursued by the army for some other crime?"

Mario dropped his eyes to the ground. He had done a most shameful thing. "I have been traveling for many days now, I had news that my mother has fallen ill, but on my way back to my village to care for her I was robbed by a highwayman. I walked for two days to come to the pueblo of Los Angeles and I don't even have a single centavo to continue my journey. No one needs any extra work in the winter, so there was no way for me to earn the money. If I were to beg I would be scoffed at, a young, healthy man does not deserve alms. I had no other choice. I didn't think doing this would hurt anyone, maybe just cause some little disappointment."

Zorro considered Mario. Turning to Mercedes he motioned her to come closer. "Muchacha, what do you think about this matter? Do you believe his story?"

Mercedes looked at Mario a long minute. She turned to Zorro. "I do believe him. I don't think he meant to hurt me. When he first came out of the dark he told me to run away." Glancing back to the shrine she caught sight of the figure of Santa Maria, moonbeams playing across her features. Looking back at Mario she said, "I think Christmas is a time for new beginnings, I think this man deserves another chance."

"Out of the mouths of babes," said Zorro. "Stand up, this sweet girl has given you a reprieve."

Mario got to his feet, stunned. "Sweet child, how can I thank you for your mercy?"

Mercedes thought for a moment. "Go home and take care of your mother."

"A good answer," said Zorro, patting her on the back approvingly. Turning to Mario he said, "In the spirit of Christmas and second chances I am going to give you a chance." Reaching into his sash he withdrew a coin. "You now have enough money to conclude your journey, go home, take care of your family." He handed the coin to Mario. "However, mercy goes hand in hand with justice, if I find that you have abused the mercy of this girl, you will have my sword to deal with."

Mario gulped, understanding the meaning clearly. "Thank you, señor, thank you little señorita, I promise that your faith in me has not been misplaced. When I return home I will make a pilgrimage for Our Lady and pray for her tender mercies to fall upon you both. Thank you again."

Zorro handed Mario back his knife. "Now," said the masked man, "I think you had best be going."

Mario didn't need to be told twice. Quickly as he had come, he ran down the trail toward the pueblo.

Zorro watched the retreating figure until he was no longer visible. He then turned to Mercedes and knelt down to look her in the face. "That was a very kind thing you did, I'm sure Our Lady is smiling on you."

Mercedes smiled shyly, pulling on one of her braids. "He didn't seem like a bad man, just someone who lost his way. I hope he doesn't loose it again."

"Somehow I don't think he will." Zorro had seen sincerity in the man, it was sad, really, how something as small as a coin could make the difference between being a sinner or a saint. "Now, little señorita, I must advise you against ever coming out to the hills by yourself after dark. This can be very dangerous, and Zorro cannot always be nearby."

Mercedes lowered her head, ashamed that she'd been the cause of such a ruckus. If she'd just waited until the morning like everyone else then there would never have been a problem. "I'm sorry, Señor Zorro, I didn't mean to cause any trouble. It's only that I found these amazing flowers, which I have never seen the like of before, and I wanted to bring them to the shrine secretly so the pilgrims would be surprised in the morning when they come." Mercedes bent and scooped up one of the fallen flowers. "They look like fire in the sunlight."

Zorro plucked one of the flowers from the ground and twirled it between his fingers. "These flowers are most amazing indeed, and you are right, they will make a most lovely surprise for the pilgrims tomorrow." He stood back up and smiled. "And since we are here, why don't we complete your plan, then I will take you back to your home where you will be safe."

Mercedes grinned, then dropped to the ground to re-gather all the stems. None seemed too damaged after the tumble from her shawl. Even though she was a little embarrassed at making so much trouble with her silly idea, she thought that maybe it was better this way.

She and Zorro spent a few minutes arranging the red flowers. Standing back to admire their work, Mercedes glanced up at Zorro. "Señor, there is just one thing I do not know."

"And what is that, muchacha?" Zorro looked down at her.

"The flowers, what are they called? I have never seen anything like them before."

"They are called La Flor de la Nochebuena, they bloom just for Christmas in Mexico City."

"A most magnificent Christmas gift," said Mercedes.

***

The sun glowed golden as the pilgrims crested the hill the next morning. All in company gasped as the flame-like flower tendrils swayed in the gentle morning breeze. Diego grinned to himself, the girl's gift really was most magnificent.

#Zorro #Zorro 1957 #Disney's Zorro #Diego de la Vega #Christmas #Poinsettias #Flowers #Fanfiction #Fanfic #Holiday #Fluff #Feel-good #Second Chances #Adventure #Yes this is three weeks late for Christmas #But that's just how I roll when it comes to holiday themed fics #Maybe next time #4k words

[tiannas-ocs]

𝐈𝐈. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄

masterlist

"Guys, why is she staring at me?"

For what felt like hours, but was really only a couple of minutes, Flora had been staring wide-eyed at the leather-clad drummer. She was still in shock over seeing the boy she had a vision of, and her mind was going a million miles a minute trying to figure out what the hell was happening. The only other time she'd drawn a person was when she predicted her mother's death, but she hadn't been dead at the time. She'd never drawn someone who was already dead, so this was all very new and scary for her.

"I don't know, dude. I think she's just terrified."

"Oh, okay." Doing the first thing he could think of to help, leather jacket boy quickly jumped at Flora, trying to scare her out of her daze.

It worked, as Flora shrieked before instinctively swatting at him in defense, only for her hand to go right through him. What the fuck?!

"Hey, guys! It worked!" the boy turned to his friends with a proud grin. The tall blond one just pinched his nose and sighed while the other one shook his head, laughing at his friend's antics.

"Wait wait wait. My hand just went through you!" She couldn't understand why the boys were acting so calmly about this, staring at her dumbly as she freaked out. "What the fu-"

She was interrupted by the boys frantically shushing her, leather-boy trying, and failing, to cover her mouth with his hand.

"Guys, the other one is coming back!" Without warning, the boys disappeared right in front of Flora's eyes. She looked over the garage door as her sister walked back in holding a wooden cross.

"Are they still here?" she asked hesitantly. She held the cross in a tight grip and at arm's length. She continues looking around before turning exasperatedly to her sister who was still frozen, processing what was happening. "I know I saw something. You saw them too right? I'm not crazy?"

The boys decide now was the moment to pop back in.

"Well, we're all a little crazy."

The sisters turned around quickly at the messy-haired boy's words, both screaming as Julie held the cross out further as protection.

"Oh my god! Please stop screaming!" the blond one yelled over the noise, covering his ears.

"Who are you and what are you doing in our mom's studio?" Flora nodded at her sister's words, putting her arm out in front of the younger girl in case they were dangerous.

"Your mom's studio? This is our studio!" The one in the middle tried moving toward the piano, but Julie kept pushing the cross at him, causing him to scramble away. Flora felt kind of stupid as she didn't have anything to defend herself against these....whatever they were.

"The grand piano is new and.....my couch!" The boy lept on the couch with the biggest grin Flo has ever seen. Jeez, it's just a couch dude.

"But that is definitely not my six-string." The boy surveyed the room, noticing all the differences, like the chairs hanging from the ceiling. Clearly confused, the boy got off the couch, looking at the sisters with a pleading look. "Can you give me just one second? Just...give me a second! Thank you."

The boys huddled up, all of them starting to realize that something was not right. Well, besides the fact that they were dead. All of them were whisper yelling, not realizing the girls could hear them.

"They aren't very good at whispering, are they?" Flora whispered to Julie, earning a slight chuckle from the nervous girl.

"They're not witches!" they heard the blond one yell, causing both sisters to look at each other strangely.

"Did he just call us-"

"Witches? Yeah."

"....should I take that as a compliment or...???" Flora had always secretly wished she was a witch, thinking it was wack that she was only able to predict the future through art and not even have any other cool abilities. Although, she figured maybe seeing ghosts could count as a power.

"Let someone with a softer touch handle this." The tall blond one broke away from the huddle, approaching them. "Why are you in our studio?" he asked in a raised voice. Softer touch???

Julie responded by shoving the cross at him, but all it did was go through his chest, not affecting him at all.

"Are you kidding me?!" The older Molina sister exclaimed. "Well, there goes our only defense."

"How did you do that?!"

"Clearly they're not understanding." he throws his hands up, looking back at his friends in frustration. "Okay, look. We're ghosts, all right?"

"Thanks, Captain Obvious!" Flo said with a sarcastic tone. The boy just rolled his eyes, continuing.

"We're just three ghosts, and we're really happy to be home. So, thank you for the flowers. They really brighten up the room."

"Oh, well you're welcome!" Flora said with a proud smile. Julie turned to her with an 'are you crazy?' look. "Oh shut up." She turned the boys, stilling grinning. "I planted those."

"Cool!" leather-boy said, making the older Molina sister blush and mutter a small thanks.

"We're actually in a band called Sunset Curve."

"Tell your friends!" the bass player exclaimed, making Flora snort in amusement.

"Last night was supposed to be a really big night for us. It was gonna change our lives."

"I'm uh...pretty sure it did." blondie whispered.

"Are you guys sure you're a band and not a comedy group?" Flo said, laughing the joke.

"This is freaking me out." July pulled out her phone, Flor looking over her shoulder as she typed.

The boys had the same idea, leaning in to catch a glimpse at the screen. "What is that? What are you doing?"

The sisters turned to the leader with confused glances. "It's my phone," Julie said in a 'duh' tone. "No. Stop talking to them. They aren't real. There's no such thing as cute ghosts."

"Oh, think we're cute?" leather-boy asked with a confident smirk.

Flora briefly glanced at him before looking at Julie. "Yeah...I don't think I'd be seeing them too if they weren't real." Flo whispered to her sister. She just rolled her eyes before continuing her search.

"Who ya calling?"

"I'm Googling Sunset Swerve."

"Sunset Curve!" all the boys corrected in a loud voice, while Flo corrected in a much more gentle tone.

Both looked at Julie's phone as the search brought up an article about the band. "Woah, there is a Sunset Curve." Julie said, causing the boys to look at her like 'I told you so!'. "You did die...but not last night. Twenty-five years ago?"

"Oh shit. Y'all are old!" Flo exclaimed with a laugh.

"What? No. Th-that's impossible. After we floated out of the ambulance, all we did was go to that weird dark room where Alex cried."

Clearly in denial, blond-boy, who she's guessing is Alex, defended himself. "Well...I don't think...I think we were all pretty upset. Okay?"

"But that was just for like an hour. We just showed up here."

With a sigh, Julie showed them the article that was on her screen. "Look. I'm just telling you what my phone says. See? You died in 1995 when you were 17. It's now 2020."

"So this is the future?" leather-boy whispered in astonishment, eyes glued to the screen.

"Yeah, I know, not as impressive as in the movies." Flo shook her head in disappointment.

"Wait. So...so it's been twenty-five years? I have been crying for twenty-five years? How is that possible?!?!"

"Well, you're a very emotional person." his buddy tried comforting him.

"I AM NOT!"

All of a sudden, Carlos comes into the garage, making both sisters' eyes go wide. "Thought you were afraid to come out here," he says directed at Julie. "You talking to your ghost friend? How does he look? Is he hideous?" he asked with his arms crossed, teasing them.

"He can see you," Alex said with a smirk to leather-boy.

"No, he can't," Julie said confused. Flo was also confused, wondering why he couldn't see the ghosts when they could.

"What?" Carlos looks around before turning back to them with a questioning look, thinking she was talking to air.

"Okay, this just got super weird." Flora whispers frantically to Julie.

"Uh...what do you want?"

"Normal sisters, for starters."

"Rude." Flo crossed her arms, glaring at the young boy.

"Stop being weird and come eat." With that, he walks out of the garage and back to the house.

"He couldn't see you." Julie and Flo glanced at each other, both equally confused and freaked out.

"Yeah. I mean...that's usually how ghosts work." Okay, listen smart ass-

"Look," Julie starts walking out the garage, turning to address the boys. “I'm very sorry for what happened to you guys, but this isn't your studio anymore. You have to leave." She tries to leave again before getting stopped.

"But wait. We...we didn't get your names."

With a huff, Julie turns back around. "It's Julie."

The boys all turn to Flo, waiting for her to speak up. "...Oh! Yeah, uh...hey. I'm Flora." she responded with finger guns.

"Cool. I'm Luke, by the way. And this is-"

"Reggie! I'm Reggie."

"I'm Alex. How's it going?"

"Not that great actually," Flo mumbles under her breath.

".........Okay?" Clearly done with the whole situation, Julie leaves the garage, causing the boys to turn back to the remaining sister.

"She seems nice!" Reggie said optimistically.

"Did you miss the part where she kicked us out or..." Alex turns to his friend, who clearly did miss that part. "Yeah, okay."

"Yeah, uh...sorry about that," Flo speaks up, the boys looking back at her. "I would actually let you guys stay, but this place means a lot more to Julie than it does to me, so what she says goes." She starts to make her way out, saying another quick 'sorry' before leaving.

The Molina family gathered around the dinner table, leaving room for mom and joining hands to say grace.

"Okay, your turn Carlos," Ray says as he grabs Flora's left hand and bows his head.

"Thank you for our leftovers and the power of the mighty microwave. Amen."

"Amen," they all repeat before grabbing stuff to put on their plates.

"So...Carlos tells me he found you guys in the studio."

"They were out there talking to themselves." he snitches, causing Flo to lightly kick him under the table.

"I was rehearsing for a play," Julie says, coming up with a lie so their dad wouldn't be concerned for their mental health. "Flo was just helping me run lines."

Flora gave an impressed thumbs up and wink at Julie, causing the girl to shake her head, trying not to laugh.

The family suddenly hears their Aunt call out to them, causing them all to go into a panic. They quickly took their Mom's plate off the table and hid it.

"Spaghetti. Again?" She says in a totally unsurprised voice, noticing it's what they had last night as well. "That's too bad. I brought you my pasteles and arroz con pollo." Flora dropped her forkful of spaghetti, looking longingly at the food her Tía brought.

"Yum." their dad said before turning to Flora. "Stay strong!" he whisper-yelled

"I'm trying!" she harshly whispered back.

"Thanks, Tía. It smells great," Julie compliments.

"You can have it tomorrow," she says dismissively.

"Oh thank god," Flo mumbles, causing her dad to glare at her again.

"I can't let you have leftovers every night. My sister would kill me, may she rest in peace." She walks towards the table, noticing the empty spot where her sister used to be. "I see things here are going better?"

"Actually, the girls have been cleaning out mom's studio," he tells her, proud of the progress Julie has made since their mom's death. "Hopefully we can get the house on the market and some offers soon."

"Well, I like the sound of that. Moving from here is only gonna help you move on," she says squeezing Julie's shoulder in encouragement. Flora just rolls her eyes. She brought up the fact that she didn't wanna move only once, and she was quickly shut down. Her father insisted it was what was best for the family, but she really knows it's code for 'It's what's best for Julie.' "You've got to rip that Band-Aid off and get the pain over with."

All of a sudden Julie's eyes go wide and she lets out a shriek, startling everyone. She looks around trying to come up with an excuse for her odd behavior. "Uh...that's me. Ripping off the Band-Aid." Everyone chuckles, thinking she was just being silly, but Flo still looked at her strangely. Julie noticed and casually nodded her head in the direction of the hallway. Flo followed where she was gesturing, before realizing she got freaked out by the ghost band appearing in their house. The boys just casually waved to them like nothing was wrong.

"Hey Julie," Luke walks up to Julie and whispers, even though the rest of the family couldn't hear. "I really like what you guys did with the place."

"You shouldn't be here," Julie whispers back.

Thinking she was talking to her, their Tía gasps, looking hurt at her niece's words. "Oh, I'm just here to help, mija."

The boys take this as their cue to leave, heading back out the door.

"I mean...you should be at Pilates!" Wow, look at Julie with nice saves. "Thanks for bringing us food."

The older woman gives her a hug, happy that she was still appreciated. "Oh, it's nothing. And now that you're no longer in the music program, you can concentrate on classes that matter," she says, completely unaware of the bomb she just dropped on her family. Realizing the table got quiet, she looks expectantly at Ray. "You got the e-mail from the school, right?"

"Yeah." Liar. "We're still discussing it."

Flora looked questioningly at Julie, the girl giving her a half-hearted shrug in return. Why didn't Julie tell me?

"Bueno. I'm off to Pilates." She blew a kiss to Carlos before leaving the family to deal with the awkward tension.

"So, Julie, wanna hear how I slid into home and was almost safe?" Carlos discreetly nudged Flora, silently asking her to go along with it.

"Oh...yeah. Wow, that sounds like a great story! Tell us more, Carlos!"

"You're a good brother and sister. That's not gonna work." Their dad snapped his fingers, gesturing for them to leave the table so he could talk to Julie.

"I tried," Carlos whispered to Julie, Flora sending her sister an apologetic smile before walking out the kitchen with her brother.

Not even a minute later, loud rock music came blaring through the house. Flora ran back into the kitchen, giving her sister a panicked look which she returned.

"What's that?!" questioned Carlos, who came running in after his sister.

"I must have left the stereo on in the garage!" Julie abruptly stands from the table, rushing over to her sister and pulling her in the direction of the noise. "We'll go get it."

"Why do you need Flower?!" their dad yelled after them.

"Don't worry about it!" Flo yelled over her shoulder, causing Julie to give her a funny look. "Shut up. This is why you come up with the excuses."

Back in the garage, the guys are completely unaware of the noise they're making. When the girls get there, they're happily rocking out on their instruments that they haven't gotten to play in twenty-five years.

"Guys! Guys, stop! Enough! Cut it out!" One by one, they each stop playing their instruments. "The whole neighborhood could hear you. I thought I told you to leave."

Reggie smiles, pointing at Flora. "Yeah, but she told us she doesn't care if we stay!"

"Way to put me on blast, dude!" she glares at him, noticing the side-eye she was getting from her sister.

"Wait," Luke starts, Julie's words finally registering. "People can hear us play?"

"Yes! And so did our dad and brother!"

"W-wait. Wait." The boys all put down their instruments, giving their full attention to the Molina sisters. "So, only you two can see us, but everyone can hear us?" Alex asks in amazement, all of them getting excited at the news. "I mean, what kind of ghost are we?" The annoying kind.

"Who cares, man? People can hear us play!" Luke is practically jumping ten feet in the air from how happy he is.

"We might be dead, but our music isn't." Reggie fist bumps Alex and Luke.

The sisters quickly turn their heads away from the band, hearing their dad come in the garage. "Dad!" They say in unison, eyes wide and smiles exaggerated.

"Hey. Just making sure you're okay," he explains to the girls, but is directed more at Julie.

"Yeah, we're fine. Just had to turn off the CD player."

"Wait. Is this the junk that was in the loft?" Their dad turns and finally takes notice of the instruments the boys had been playing.

"Junk?"

He walks over to the drums, banging on them a bit, looking impressed. "Some of this stuff's in pretty good shape. Maybe we could make a couple bucks."

Alex quickly chimes in to defend his instrument. "What?! Yo, stop touching my drums." He turns to the sisters, realizing Ray can't hear him. "Tell him to stop touching my drums!"

"I like that song you had on." Ray moves around the drum, going to stand in front of the girls.

The boys crowd him, happy that people like their music. "Sweet! We're Sunset Curve."

"Tell your friends."

"It's just an old CD we found." All of the boys gave looks of hurt at being called old, while Flo tried her best not to laugh in their faces.

"Well, still. It's nice that you're listening to music again. Out here you can play whatever you want, whenever you want." He spreads his arms in a gesturing motion, unaware that his hands went right through two of the ghosts.

Unaffected, Reggie just smiled goofily up at the man. "Oh! That's nice."

"Stay out of this," Julie hissed at the bass guitarist.

Flora harshly nudged her sister, giving her a look that told her to shut up.

"I-I'm sorry, honey. I didn't-"

Not wanting him to think he'd done something wrong, both girls frantically shook their heads, coming up with an excuse for Julie's outburst.

"Oh no no no! Not you!"

Flo nods her head, adding on to what her sister said. "That's a line....from the play...that we told you about..." Julie gave her a look which Flo just smiled innocently at. "Yeah, Julie kept forgetting that one." She walks up to their dad, dragging him to the garage door. "You know what, she should probably practice some more, so we're just gonna stay here and...yeah bye!"

He gives her an odd look before focusing on Julie. "Hey! We're gonna figure out this music program thing."

Grateful, but clearly wanting him to leave, Julie helps her sister in ushering him out. "Thanks, Dad."

"Adios, my dude!" Flo closes the door on him, closing her eyes and letting out a breath. She opens her eyes to see the guys laughing at her and Julie looking at her like she's crazy.

" 'Adios, my dude'?! What the hell was that?!"

The older sister huffed and crossed her arms. "I panicked! In case you couldn't tell, I'm under a lot of stress right now."

"Guys, he likes our songs!" Luke said excitedly.

"Oh yeah. He doesn't count. He's a dad." Alex says, kinda killing the good mood.

"Why can't you guys just be normal ghosts?" Julie was clearly frustrated about having to keep three annoying teenaged ghost boys hidden from their family. "Hang out in an old mansion. I hear Pasadena's nice." With that, she growls and stomps her way out of the garage.

Flora turns the boys, looking apologetic. "Sorry about her, but you guys gotta understand how...freaky this is for us."

"Well, I think she's warming up to us." Alex shrugs, ignoring the girl's words.

"Yeah, I've always wanted to go to Pasadena." Reggie still has a bright smile on his face, either unaware or not caring that they weren't welcome in their home.

Without saying a word, Luke poofs out of the garage, making Flora's eyes go wide as she searches the room. "Where'd he-"

She was cut off by the sound of her sister screaming, alerting the girl to the ghost's whereabouts. "Oh, nevermind."

The three stood around awkwardly, the silence deafening. Alex kept noticing the Molina girl glancing at Reggie, the other boy completely unaware and in his own little world. Before he could question her, she speaks up.

"So...do you guys wanna..." She gestured out the door with her thumb, the boys getting the hint.

"Oh! Oh yeah, let's...yeah that."

Flora left the garage, the boys just poofing out, and caught the end of whatever Luke was telling Julie.

"We can play again. That's a gift no musician would ever turn down."

Flora looked over at her sister in pity, knowing exactly what the girl was thinking. That she had the chance to play and did turn it down.

"You gotta know that. Clearly, your mom is into music."

"....Was. She passed away." The older Molina sister kept her eyes on the ground, avoiding the sad pitying looks the boys were sending them. She didn't always show it, thinking she didn't deserve to feel as torn up as she did, but their mom's death really affected Flora. While others saw it as apathy, she knew that after seeing her mother's dead body twice, she'd cried all the tears she could, to the point of almost being numb to it.

"I am...so sorry."

"Yeah, we...we didn't know."

Julie gave the boys half-hearted smiles, Flora looking up when she noticed Reggie trying to put his hand on her shoulder before just letting it hover when he realized he couldn't.

"It's alright." Julie sighs, clearly not alright. "You guys haven't seen her anywhere, have you? From wherever you're from?"

Both girls looked at the boys with hopeful expressions, before their faces dropped seeing them shake their heads.

"No. No, I mean, you guys are kind of the first people we've seen."

"Yeah, but they're not dead, so it doesn't answer her question," Reggie tells Alex, thinking the boy had forgotten.

"Yeah, I think they know what we mean." Alex glares at his oblivious friends before looking at the sisters. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thanks. Sorry I got mad. You guys are kinda good."

"Yeah," Flora nodded, agreeing with her sister. "I usually don't even like music like that, but I gotta admit...you guys are pretty good."

"Kinda? Pretty good? You know that's, like, 25 years of rust just getting dusted off."

"Yeah. Do you play the piano too?" Flora goes to answer Reggie before Julie cuts in.

"No. No, that was our mom's stuff in there." Julie ignores her sister's questioning look, wondering why Julie lied.

"No way. She's an amazing songwriter."

"She was. Wait-"

"How did you know that?" Flo finished her sister's thoughts. "You said you haven't met her."

"There's a song on the piano," he explains looking at the older sister. "If it's hers...Your mom was really talented."

Flora smiled gratefully at the boy, knowing his words meant a lot to Julie. Looking like she was about to walk away, Flo loudly cleared her throat, gaining her sister's attention. The girl looked back to see Flo motioning to the boys with an expectant look on her face.

"Oh...um...I guess if you need a place to stay, you can stay in there." She gestured to the garage. Flora beamed at them, giving her sister a thumbs up for understanding what she was trying to suggest. "There's a bathroom in the back and a couch that turns into a bed...if you still use any of that stuff."

"Julie...did you forget the part where they're ghosts?" Alex and Luke laughed, but Reggie just got really excited about the shower.

"I just really like showers, and sometimes the occasional bath."

Flo backs away from the boys, going up the stairs to stand by her sister. "Thanks for sharing?"

"Your welcome!"

The girl burst out laughing at how clueless he was, which only made the ghost boy smile even more.

"This...This is just...too weird." Julie leaves the boys and Flora behind as she heads back to the house.

The boys are all smiles over the news that they get to stay in their old studio.

Alex points to the other sister with a smirk. "See? I told you she was warming up to us."

Flora rolls her eyes, shaking her head at him. "You guys are lucky you're cute or we would have thrown you out a while ago." She turns away from them, retreating back to the house.

The last thing she hears before she's completely in the house is Reggie yelling in the distance.

"She thinks we're cute, too!"

a/n: uuggghhhhhh this took too fucking long. i’m exhausted. i know i made so many mistakes but i’m too lazy to fix them. if you think you saw my mistakes, no you didn’t. :)

#butterflies #flora molina #julie and the phantoms oc #julie and the phantoms fanfic

[peonypearls-muddled-musings]

The sunshine was new and bright in his office as Malgam had only begun reviewing much-ignored documents within the past hour. Propping his elbow onto his desk, then resting his chin on his hand, he scribbled his signature on countless lines, either setting them into a tray for Koysov to claim, or sealing them into sturdy envelopes with his signature golden emblem to be taken and sent by the palace chamberlain. He paused to write out another location on an envelope, smiling at the recipient. This envelope was to be sent out to the kingdom one of his daughters led on the other side of the world. 

He was a proud father, and a proud king of a world of Shapeshifters. Malgam and his fellow Originals had seen to the rise of new and stronger generations over the past four centuries; and the Hierarchy continued to ensure the preservation of their species.

As Malgam began writing his signature on another document, The door to his office shuddered and creaked open, and as Malgam set another document into Koysov’s tray, he looked up to find his chief of medicine and fellow Original, Boxrom.

“Good morning,” Malgam greeted happily, finishing the scribble of his signature. “You look well.”

Boxrom chuckled, shaking his head as his wispy auburn hair fell over his gray eyes. Of course he looked well to Malgam; Boxrom was expecting another one of his children. 

“You’re up bright and early,” Boxrom said, pulling a chair up to the handsome desk. Malgam hummed, pulling up another document. 

“I haven’t been this behind on paperwork for some time. Between chasing down war rumors, the humans running amok over in East Unell, Reparations to old infrastructure that Barthley failed to inform me of… It’s been a mess.”

He ignored addressing the dark circles around his eyes; which were even more pronounced these days, but Boxrom hesitated to mention anything about them, hoping to keep his king in fair spirits, even though his intentions were a bit selfish. Boxrom fidgeted, and Malgam noticed the typically unusual act from him, and he straightened out the next document.

“You have something on your mind.” Malgam said, not as a question, but in acknowledgement. He looked up as Boxrom nodded.

“I hope I’m not out of line in what I’m about to ask, my lord,”

Malgam looked on, his brow furrowed in confusion as Boxrom began making his case.

“So… when Floralis and I welcomed our sons last week-”

“They are well?” Malgam interrupted, fearing the worst.

“Yes, sir, they’re perfect,” Boxrom smiled, relieving Malgam of any worry.

“Good; I’m sorry, proceed.”

“When… we had a moment, we got to talking and… I thought through these past few months Floralis had been acting strange. I took it to be hormones. But it turned out she revealed to me she… she said she loves me.”

Malgam smirked. “She has every right to.”

Boxrom’s mouth opened, but he hesitated. “I think it’s different than… us. Than the intertwinings of all of us.” His hands continued to speak with him, his fingers lacing as he tried his best to word what he’d been lost to. “She and I both know we can’t stop our duties to the future of our species. But… when it comes to life for us, she wants us to share it. Not away from the rest of you and the others; but to share our time, and our trials, and our achievements together.”

“Together,” Malgam said softly. 

Boxrom swallowed. “I’ve been feeling the same about her. She and I; we are together often. We talk and laugh and study, and…” Boxrom looked up at his king; the golden eyes that made his heart leap. “I love you, and the rest of us. But I… I want to marry Floralis.”

Malgam’s serene countenance didn’t budge with this announcement.

And that scared Boxrom.

“Over this past week, being with our boys, we mesh so well, we communicate at a rate I haven’t felt or seen with the others. We just… have a bond.”

“Marriage,” Malgam said quietly, bringing his hand to his chin as he contemplated. When was the last time he’d been married? Nearly a millennium ago. That’s right; he’d had a wife. She was good and kind and light-humored. He smiled somberly, remembering golden days with her, and her gentle countenance, and unwavering friendship. 

But; as part of the Hierarchy, marriage hadn’t been much of a need. The eight counted on one another for companionship, love, and family. 

“But,” Boxrom said, his voice already quaking. “I don’t want it to seem like I’m choosing. I can’t… I couldn’t take it to show favoritism. But Floralis is…” Boxrom’s hand touched his chest. “It feels like she just lives here within me,” he said, pressing again on his chest. “I have grown to enjoy and appreciate everything about her; and I seek her out daily now. Please, my lord; if you don’t accept it; then… do you at least understand what I mean?”

Malgam looked at Boxrom, who feared the worst; but Malgam simply set his pen to the side.

“I do understand. I know that each of us are different; we have our views and visions and minds about the world and what we do. Some days I understand it’s hard to be around a small, set group day after day.”

Boxrom nodded. 

“But we do what we must to preserve our future. With that said… To find one that your soul calls out to; who am I to deny such a treasure?”

Boxrom perked up, looking at Malgam. The king’s heavy, but often empty, eyes looked down to his desk.

It had been so long since he’d had someone his own soul felt whole with. He had the Hierarchy, and indeed they loved and adored their king; but that feeling of being whole; of being warm and lifted and bathed in light. He hadn’t felt it for centuries. He looked up at Boxrom, and he realized why the doctor had looked so much lighter these days. He smiled and stood, rounding the desk as Boxrom stood. 

Malgam put his hand on Boxrom’s shoulder. “You both have my blessing.”

Boxrom stood, looking at Malgam both in reverence and excitement.

“You mean it?”

“Of course I do; I’m not going to give you false hope,” Malgam smiled, touching Boxroms cheek. “I knew there was some chance that some of us would be drawn more to a select few in the group; but the marriage won’t-”

“I know, sir,” Boxrom said. “We’ve spoken about that; we will continue our duties to our people and our future; like we promised.”

Malgam smiled, reaching in to kiss Boxrom’s cheek. He peeled away and looked Boxrom over.

“So how soon do you want the ceremony to be? Because fittings for you may be… a bit complicated,” Malgam said, regarding Boxrom’s current state. Boxrom laughed.

“We… would actually like to proceed as soon as we realistically can. We’ve done so much waiting in our lives… if this is something we can do soon, we would be thankful.”

Thinking silently, Malgam chewed on his thumbnail, his eyes looking around as he pondered. Then his golden gaze looked up to Boxrom as his posture remained in thought. “I’ll make it happen,” he said with a smile. Boxrom, emotional, reached forward to embrace his king; who answered by holding Boxrom tight. “I’m happy for you two. Truly.”

For a moment they remained; Malgam fought for his own emotions as Boxrom was an unspoken favorite in his eyes. Boxrom’s witty countenance, his charm, and his curiosity could always bring joy to the king. Their friendship and countenance was known as one of the strongest in the Hierarchy; but for Malgam to see two of his fellow Originals so close that, for the first time in centuries, marriage had been uttered, it was both exciting and worrisome.

And he did admit, a bit of him felt left behind; but he hoped the others would be happy for them.

Boxrom pulled away, his gray eyes glistening. “This doesn’t change anything for you, my lord,” he murmured, putting Malgam’s hand on his chest. “You are still my guiding light.”

Malgam smiled, pleased to hear this.

“And I will continue to light your way. Go on; go rest; I’ll take care of everything from here.”

Watching Boxrom finally tear away from him, Malgam watched, folding his arms behind him, as Boxrom made his exit. The door clicked shut, and Malgam turned back towards his desk; noting the new angle of the rays of the sun through his tall, decorative windows. He sat, both lost in thought and inspired as he texted another in the Hierarchy.

_____________

“How’s the fit?”

Boxrom looked in the mirror, adjusting the cravat at his neck. “Well, it’s going to work either way.”

Boxrom allowed Belisia, the resident artist of the Hierarchy, to circle him, tugging and fastening his garb as he looked in a mirror.

“How many people are out there?” He asked. Belisia pulled a safety pin out of her mouth and tucked another layer in. 

“Well, it’s the first wedding of the Hierarchy, so… a lot,” she said absentmindedly. She rounded him, moving continuously like a hummingbird. Her expert fingers adjusted and tweaked as fast as they could as he stood still for her.

Boxrom wore a handsome dark copper suit that parted just at the top of his bump, allowing a pleated ivory tunic to drape down. His cravat was golden against the neck of the tunic to match the gold scrollwork on his suit. He wore dark slacks that Belisia had to alter quickly, but otherwise, she smiled. “Lookin’ good,” she beamed, smoothing out her own lavender dress, dotted with yellow and pink fabric flowers. “Floralis wanted her dress to match your ensemble.”

“What, no white?”

Belisia smirked up at Boxrom. “Wearing white at a wedding was already outdated in human customs. And if we’re going by human customs; trust me, none of us should be wearing white.”

Boxrom laughed as Belisia added the final touch of jewelry and baubles, complete with an ornate circlet on top of his head. 

Boxrom noticed a sliver of light appear in he mirror, and a figure stood at the doorway. “You look as radiant as Floralis.” 

Turning to see the source of the voice, Boxrom smiled as Malgam entered, his chest puffed with pride as he was dressed impeccably for the occasion. 

“My lord, Flor is always radiant. As are you.”

Belisia straightened up, playfully pouting.

“And you, of course, dearest Bel. I can’t thank you enough.”

Smiling, Bel added a ring with a crest to the hand opposite the one that would wear Floralis’ ring, and she kissed his knuckles. “Thanks for giving me something new to do.”

Belisia bustled out of the room, leaving Boxrom and Malgam.

“Nervous?” Malgam asked. Boxrom laughed. 

“I’ve faced much scarier futures that I’ve survived. This is a journey I’ll enjoy partaking in.”

“And we will see you both through it.” Malgam said, gently stroking his knuckles against Boxrom’s cheekbone; the doctor closed his eyes, touching his king’s hand. “Shall we?”

Putting his arm in Malgam’s as they walked down the grand staircase of the Gathering Hall, they passed the numerous flower arrangements that circled the pillars and staircases. “The people are excited. I think this was, in essence, a very good idea.”

“You think so?” Boxrom asked. Malgam nodded.

“Apparently merchants have been profiting off of this. The city is bustling.”

And certainly, as they neared the main hall, Boxrom could hear the crowd inside; but his attention was soon broken as he saw someone waiting in the atrium. 

Holding a generous bouquet of burgundy lilies and draping ivory wisteria, Floralis turned his way, and Boxrom halted for a second to look at her. Her long, dark hair had been pinned up in an ornate fashion, completed with her own circlet around her forehead. Her eyes gleamed, surrounded with eyeshadow in colors of cream and rust to accentuate her dark eyes and the colors of her gown, which mirrored his. She wore an empire-waist to flatter her figure, which was still recovering from having twins; and it trailed behind her, the cloth expertly embroidered and pleated; she glittered and gleamed no matter what angle she turned in; and he smiled as she turned his way. She caught his gaze and she gasped, lighting up.

“Look at you!” They both said to each other as they approached. Malgam let go of Boxrom’s hand as the two looked upon their soon-to-be spouse. He watched, silent, patient, and proud.

“Stars; I can’t remember the last time I saw you so dressed up!” Floralis said, taking note of the fine attire. Boxrom laughed.

“I haven’t had a need to be,” he said, sighing as he took in the sight of her. “But you; oh; you’re beautiful.”

Malgam silently walked past, and as they turned to him, he nodded. Boxrom and Floralis stood side-by-side, arm in arm, as Malgam opened the doors.

The crowds didn’t slow them down, even with the room at capacity. Boxrom and Floralis approached the altar, with Malgam leading the way. The people bowed as Malgam walked past, holding their postures as the three Originals walked past. Floralis held tight to Boxrom’s hands as they looked around at the room, decorated at great length with what felt like more flowers than they’d ever seen in their lives.

Stepping up to the altar after Malgam, Boxrom and Floralis faced each other, holding hands as the event commenced. They looked down to the front row, where the rest of their Originals sat, and they smiled as Nadlia held one of their boys, the other sleeping in the pram. Koysov sat next to her, poised to approach the stage soon to officiate the ceremony. Belisia took her seat between Nadlia and Tuvra. Tuvra seemed the least interested in the ceremony, but the infamous hermit was known to dislike crowds, However, next to him, Ev’Elle was just happy to be able to join in the ceremony, as her work kept her away often.

Malgam motioned for the crowd to sit, and he nodded for Koysov to approach. The spindly lawmaker bustled up the steps, and he took to the stand. Before he spoke, he regarded his fellow Originals with a smile. He put his hands on theirs, warmly and protectively. His bright green eyes met Floralis’ deep brown, and Boxrom’s sky-gray before he looked out to the crowd to speak.

“Four hundred and fifty-seven years ago, it was us that remained of the Travelers. Eight of us out of the original nineteen, from whom the populus at large had sprung. And to this day, eight of us still continue to provide to the populus. We gathered together for the first time since the very beginning, to create a new life for this world, and for ourselves. And today, we celebrate a new chapter in that life.”

Boxrom shook, not worrying about the people, but in anticipation of this event. He pressed his forehead to Floralis’, their circlets clinking as they did.

Koysov smiled. “Our beloved Boxrom and Floralis have come together, soul by soul, to create a new union. We are proud and excited to join them in this journey; and to see them through it.”

Koysov nodded to Malgam, who then provided two important pieces; rings for the two that he placed into their hands. He put Boxrom’s sturdy, dark band in Floralis’ hand, and Floralis’ filigree-style ring into Boxrom’s.

“With tokens of a permanent promise, they bind their past, present, and future. Here, they combine their lives, their days and nights; their trials and happiness; their successes and failures.”

Boxrom slipped the ornate ring onto Floralis’ finger as she smiled at him; she then took his hand, sliding his dark band on before he encased her hands in his, kissing her fingers.

“Commencing today, they share what the other has to give; and we are here to help provide. And today is the start of what we give to them; our love and hope for their future.”

Boxrom and Floralis looked to Koysov as he offered a rare, beaming smile, and he raised his hand above them, signaling his officiation. 

“From this moment on, they are hereby bound to each other, heart and soul, as husband and wife. By proclamation of hearts and ink to page, they begin their next steps as one.”

Koysov lowered his hand, looking at the two. He then blinked, realizing he wasn’t sure how to end the ceremony, and he said with a murmur: “I suppose this is where you guys kiss.”

Laughing, Floralis and Boxrom were eager to cap off the ceremony, and they met each others’ lips happily, and they reveled in the cheers and applause from the crowd. Parting, they looked to their fellow Originals, who shared their excitement; even glum Tuvra offered a smile as he clapped.

The reception was like a ball, glamorous, exciting, full of dance and song and laughter. Boxrom and Floralis walked through the crowd, both holding one of their twins, as they greeted guests. Malgam watched from the table of honor, happy to see the newlyweds already in sync as they rounded the room to meet back up, exchange twins and a kiss, and return to the floor. 

“‘Bout time he should be getting off his feet, isn’t it?” Koysov suggested, returning to his seat with a glass of wine and a generous slice of cake. Malgam smirked.

“You know Boxrom can’t sit for longer than a blink,” he said, much to Koysov’s agreement. “That was a nice speech.”

Koysov laughed. “I, uh, wrote it last night. I’m not good with this romance stuff.”

“Could have fooled me,” Malgam chuckled.

Koysov regarded his king, making sure to not talk with a mouthful of fluff and icing. “You look tired.”

“… Nothing out of the ordinary.”

Koysov worked through the thick icing of his next bite as he knew that wasn’t true.

“You should talk to someone about them. Don’t go suffering through these nightmares alone,” he said. 

Malgam turned to his lawmaker; for a rare moment, a veil of fear shone in his face. “How... how did you know?”

Koysov hesitated to take another bite of the cake. He turned to Malgam as camera lights began flashing.

“You fell asleep in your study the other day when I came to get the documents you’ve been reviewing. You were talking and...;”

Koysov paused, finding his words. There was more to it; Malgam hadn’t just been talking in his sleep; he was begging. Pleading; then threatening.

“...and I didn’t know how to wake you without...”

“Without?”

“... You were shifting; your hands became claws; you were angry.”

Malgam realized it. Koysov feared for his safety. 

“You were the one who slammed the door,” Malgam said. Koysov nodded. 

“Yes, sir. I took my leave and thought that would help wake you. I looked back in and you had woken up; so I resumed my duties.”

Malgam looked at him, the bustle of the crowd now seeming so far away. Koysov tried to find more words to soothe his king.

“If you have more nightmares, come find me. Besides; I don’t go to bed til late anyway,” he said quickly, finally stabbing another helping of cake off of the plate.

Blinking, Malgam registered the offer. “Thank you, Koysov,”

Hesitantly, Koysov reached over to touch his king’s hand before he managed to look him in the eyes. Koysov wasn’t romantic; and Malgam was surprised even at the offer of help. 

“I know you and Boxrom have always been close; and this has probably been... quite a day for you. But... you will never be truly alone, my lord. Not if I have anything to do about it.”

Malgam opened his mouth to speak, but the crowd drowned out any hope of words. They Hierarchy looked out to see Boxrom and Floralis meeting at the center of the room, sharing a quick kiss, holding their boys, and smiling for photos.

Malgam felt Koysov’s hand remain on his; and with a gaze towards the lawmaker once more, Malgam could have sworn he felt that brightness in his heart gleam somewhere in the dark.

#my writing #PDatSK #The Hierarchy

[hardlylo]

como la flor

synopsis: best friend’s dad! luke (also lawyer!luke) and montserrat are about to enter a world full of pain, tears, and happiness. inspired by the amazing series by @morningfears (pls do not expect this to be nearly as beautifully written as her series)

warnings: like one little word of swearing, age gap? (montserrat is aged 22 with luke 43/44)

author’s note: latina!protagonist because i feel this needs to be more of a thing. portrayed by cierra ramirez. please, puhlease provide feedback! i plan to make this a series unless it fails miserably then we’re just gonna forget this ever happened, capeche? i plan to make this like a telenovela: full of angst and drama that’s so ridiculous it’s good.

word count: 2,239

taglist: feel free to message to be added!

“Mr. Hemmings?” She whispered, gently rasping her knuckles over the hardwood door frame. She was met with the ocean blue eyes she dreamed of every night. “I’m all finished up, I’ll be heading out here in a few minutes. Just wanted to thank you again.” Her voice remained low, the tiredness seeping through her tone.

Montserrat Valdez had just finished up a grueling summer internship. It was a start in the right direction, putting to use what she paid thousands of dollars to learn, but it was no less than daunting. It was an amazing opportunity that practically fell in her lap. It was hard, exhausting, and she wasn’t sure if it was the case files or the gorgeous boss that made her have constant sleepless nights-but, she made it.

Luke glanced up from his paperwork, meeting the dark amber hues of the brunette. He had been so busy with his case that time had completely escaped him. He gave her a warm smile, slicking a loose piece of hair from his face. “Please, come in.” he gestured, pen in hand, to the leather chair in front of him.

Her heels clicked on the hardwood floor, the leather squeaking from her sudden presence. “If you’re busy I can go! It’s not like I won’t see you this weekend,” she chuckled, reminding him of the constant weekend plans she had with his daughter. “Besides, this looks important.”

“You worry too much,” he consoled, “I was just finishing up anyway.” With a flick of the folder the papers disappeared. He folded his hands on the desk top, “I wanted to see you before you left anyways, congratulate you on surviving your first two months of adulthood.”

Monte laughed with a blush, her eyes breaking the contact to sweep the floor. “Thank you, I appreciate it immensely.”

He gave her a soft wink, “That’s the fifth time you’ve said that. You’re quite welcome. And to congratulate you further I was hoping you’d let me buy you a drink.” Her interest peaked, her back straightening. “Unless that’s too awkward for you.”

“No!” she squeaked, “n-no. I would actually love to. I could definitely use a drink.” Her laugh was light, filling the room with a melodic sound. Luke felt a small flutter in his chest, but he quickly convinced himself he was just getting hungry.

“In that case, meet me at the house at six? It’s not like you don’t already know where I live.” He chuckled back, their moods bouncing off one another.

Montserrat stood, straightening out her pencil skirt, “will Lynnly be coming?” It wasn’t that she didn’t want the other girl to come, but there was a small hitch in her mind that desperately wished for alone time. Besides, she saw her nearly every other day of the week-being best friends and all. Or sisters, as they called themselves. They had been close ever since they both joined the same sorority in college. They stuck like glue for the next four years and found themselves as friends, sisters, and even neighbors.

The girls also found themselves at the older Hemmings house every weekend when they made their ventures home. Montserrat’s parents didn’t even live in the country, which made Luke welcome her with open arms-not wanting such a delicate soul to be left alone in the world. They also grew to be close, sharing little moments here and there. But nothing ever came to fruition. Not with Lynnly around every corner.

Maybe that’s why the internship had been so hard. Montserrat had finally had chances to be near him without a mediator. Yet, it never got better. They were either in a professional setting or joining his daughter on the couch for family night. It was a never ending cycle of missed chances and she wasn’t so sure she had anymore hope In her. Until today.

“I’ll throw the invite out, but I think she mentioned something along the lines of going out with Peter.” He shrugged, clearly not bothered if he missed the other’s presence.

Montserrat made her way back to the door way, her head looking back for a last look in the office. “See you at six, boss.”

 -

A hand reached for the doorbell in hesitation. It pulled back. It pushed forward again. It pulled back. Why was this so difficult? All she had to do was enter the same house she’d barged into plenty of times before. Yet, this was different. She felt that she had to be proper, respectful. Should she ring the doorbell? Knock? What if he was in the shower? He’d never hear her.

The door drew back with a creak, the sudden movement making the brunette jump back in surprise. “Were you just going to stand here all night or were you going to come in?” An arrogant smirk lay on his lips as he took in the girl before him. He’d never seen her so nervous-she was usually a go getter, someone with so much confidence she could easily make friends with just a hello.

Montserrat let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. Her heart was still pounding from the scare; or, maybe it was the fact that the only thing on him was a white towel, loosely bunched at his waist. “Um, I just-“ she fumbled, “I didn’t know if you’d want me to just barge in like that. I didn’t want to be rude.”

“Come on in,” he mused, making way for her to enter the house. “I would tell you to make yourself at home, but you practically live here anyways. I just need to freshen up and we can get going.”

She didn’t even realize she was staring until she heard his throat clear. “Y-yeah. I’ll just go…sit on the couch.”  Her voice was weak with nerves. The butterflies in her stomach seemed to multiply. ‘stop staring’ she repeated in her head, trying to regain some of her dignified composure.

Luke’s eyebrow raised in humorous curiosity. “Did you have some drinks before you came over?” he asked as he made his way up the stairwell. “You never could pregrame. Your pregaming is gaming. Always were the lightweight, Monte.”

Her eyes never left his silhouette until the closing door blocked her view. She placed a hand to her chest, trying to still her racing heart. She shuffled through the hallway, glancing at the pictures up on the wall. God-he had always been so good looking. It was a wonder to her that he wasn’t married, but you’d never find her complaining.

She plopped on the couch, crossing her golden toned legs. Her fingers absentmindedly played with the hem of her romper. She needed to snap out of this trance and quick. It was bad enough that Lynnly wasn’t around to be a mediator, now with the promise of alcohol looming in the air it was only a matter of time before Montserrat was word vomiting all over the place.

“Are you alright?” He questioned, appearing from the hall. Montserrat jumped again, a small squeak of surprise leaving her lips. How did he manage to keep sneaking up on her? You would think he’d be heavy footed enough to give her ears an incoming warning of footsteps.

His body plopped down next to hers, so close that he could smell her floral perfume. “I’m fine,” she lied, her knee gently knocking his. “I think I’m just tired, you know? It’s been a crazy two months.” What a load of crap.

“Look at me,” he softly demanded, dipping his head down to try to search her eyes for answers. He couldn’t understand what the sudden change in personality was. She was usually so warm and inviting to him. Now he seemed to be cast out like a puppy in the rain. Her pitiful eyes met his, giving no sign of her true feelings. “Did I do something?”

Montserrat practically flew off the couch, her legs immediately pacing in the large living room. “God, of course you didn’t!” A hand moved through her hair, trying to keep it from her reddening face. “I’m just-“ she let out an exasperated groan-“fuck!” He couldn’t help but watch her in amazement. He’d never witnessed her so flustered.

“I’m mad at myself,” she continued, seemingly talking to the air. “You know, for the last three years I’ve only ever looked at you as Lynnly’s dad. The guy who let me pass out in his guest bedroom when I drank too much getting over my ex. You were just my best friend’s dad. And then you give me this internship and suddenly I’m with you all the time. I get to know you so personally. I call you by your name, not just ‘Lynnly’s dad’, we were up late all those nights ordering takeout in your office, you even stood up for me when those clients were yelling at me. And here I am, feeling like I’m 15 years old because I have a crush on my friend’s dad. Who was also my boss. Yet I’m scared it’s not just a little school girl crush because it’s been progressing for months now. And then you go and ask me for drinks! Now here I am, trying to act like I didn’t just witness you half naked twenty minutes ago, but I can’t. So yeah, I guess I’m a little mad at you too for answering the door in a fucking towel.”

All the months of flirting, sending subtle ‘come get me’ signs, were finally boiling over. Everyone had noticed the care free, love induced banter that went between the two. A lot of people wrote it off as them just being close friends. Some could see through the facades, sensing the sexual tension. She always looked at him with sweet lovesick puppy eyes, and he always returned the sentiments. He would leave his hand on the small of her back a few seconds too long as he passed by her in the conference rooms, she’d let her head fall on his shoulder as they watched another boring movie Lynnly picked out. The tension had been building for too long. Montserrat had finally burst. She never knew how much her love struck tantrum would change her life.

There was silence. Dark, ear shattering silence. Luke didn’t know what to say. Had he noticed the girl getting flirtier? More open? Of course he had. But he was twice her age. He couldn’t just ask her out for dinner and drive her home afterwards. There were jobs and lives involved. He figured she’d grow out of it-meet someone else at the club, go on double dates with Lynnly and Peter, never to be seen in the Hemmings house again. But she was always there. No matter what happened he could always count on the spicy, kind hearted girl to show up on his door step.

Montserrat’s movements finally ceased. Her chest was heaving trying to catch her breath. She couldn’t even bring herself to look at him. “Ay dios mio,” she whined, her eyes beginning to well with tears. She had never felt more embarrassed. “I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

Luke gently pushed himself off the couch. His hands cradled her cheeks, bringing her face to look at him. “You don’t want this.” He murmured, his forehead pressing to hers. “I’m not worth anything. I’m an old man to you. You are way too gorgeous, sweet, intelligent, too everything to even bother your pretty little head with thoughts about me. I’m completely undeserving.”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t want.” She softly nipped. He couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, noticing her usual spark coming back. Her hands clasped onto his, “tell me you want this. That you’ve at least thought of it like I have.”

He contemplated his words carefully. He could easily lie to her, let her down gently. But their current position made it impossible for him to look her in the eyes and not tell her the truth. “Of course I’ve thought about it.” He spoke truthfully, “I never told you this, but that night you came over to help with the Brennings case, you had a little too much champagne, and fell asleep on my shoulder in the office, remember?” She nodded in remembrance as he spoke, “I carried you to bed that night. And I held you for a while after that because that’s all you wanted. You woke up long enough to ask me to hold you and I did. But I had to leave you before I fell asleep because I didn’t want Lynnly to get the wrong idea the next morning. Ever since then, all I’ve ever wanted to do was to hold you again without having to let go.”

Montserrat lifted herself on her tip toes, bringing her lips within mere centimeters of his. Her eyes flicked from his lips to his eyes, silently asking for permission. He gave her a nod before lightly pressing their lips together. Her hands fell to his chest, slightly gripping the tshirt material. There were no sparks. There were no fireworks. There were no feet popping up in the symbol of true love’s kiss. Instead there was a feeling of normalcy. Like this was how she was supposed to feel. This was comfortable, relaxing. It was as if they’d always known each other’s taste.

Luke reluctantly pulled away, taking in a deep breath. He gave her a smile, a genuine, deep smile. He hadn’t felt this way in years: excited, fresh, completed. There were still tons of fears in the back of his mind, but the blushed smile on her face blew them all away without a word.

“I think we’re going to have a lot of talking to do,” she mused, pressing her lips to his again for one quick peck.

He led them back to the couch, pulling her gently onto his lap. Her nose instantly nudged into his neck, breathing in the comforting sandalwood cologne. He brushed hair from her face, laying a hand to her hip to keep her close. “I have all the time in the world to talk about whatever’s on your pretty little mind.”

#luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings x reader #bfd!luke #luke!au #luke hemmings #5sos imagine #5sos series #luke hemmings series #luke hemmings imagines #luke hemmings x oc #calum hood #calum hood imagine #michael clifford #michael clifford imagine #ashton irwin #ashton irwin imagine #luke hemmings smut

[possiblypeachy]

tea & schemes (8.)

―; summary: Florence grapples with far too many feelings and, as always, Lissie comes to the rescue.

―; pairing: jacob frye x ofc

―; word count: 4.8k

―; warnings: light swearing.

―; A/N: flor is too lovely for all of this and i just want her to be happy guys im :(( but also, can we start a felicity marlowe fanclub?? please leave applications below to become an official member bc everyone should love her she’s like a rockin’ older sister. 

also, if i was okay with writing like 6k word chapters they would’ve kissed in this one so keep an eye out in the next chapter people

―; part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

― ❊ ―

The walk back to Florence’s home was filled with light, cheerful conversation but brushes against the shoulder and moments of her simply studying Jacob’s face seemed far more frequent. Or were they like this usually? Florence was unsure; she’d begun to overwhelm herself inside her own mind, though she kept Jacob none the wiser. The last thing that she could afford right now was him, of all people, digging through her conscious.

“-- and I was trying to enjoy a pint but along comes Evie with this huge bloke’s head in her hands and she just slams him into my table. I tell you, beer in the eyes is painful but not as painful as the splinters that man had to pull out of his face.” Jacob grimaced, gazing into as though he was envisioning the wound’s that very moment. Then hazel eyes met hers, amusement mirrored in both of their eyes. “So, the moral of that story is to never go drinking with my sister.”

“Such a shame, that.” Florence’s brows drew together in faux disappointment. “To think, I was going to invite your sister down to the pub this weekend.”

“Without me?”

She shot him a little wink, a finger coming up to tap her nose. “Girl talk, Jacob; you wouldn’t understand.”

He huffed out a laugh, taking a familiar turn into her street. “I’m not sure Evie would either.”

Florence’s gaze fixed to the profile of his face for a moment too long, just watching the curl of his lips and the jovial light flickering in his eyes. Why did she find it so impossible that he actually wanted to spend time with her? Remnants of Thomas prickled at her heart, despite Jacob’s work to remove them. The thought that she might allow herself to fall fully for this man-- this assassin-- only for him to break her again terrified her more than Florence would like to admit. Yet, his presence had been lingering on her mind for longer than she’d previously realised.

His eyes dragged from the bunting strung above her street to her and the worried little crease between her eyebrows. Florence appeared to be in another world entirely. “Flor? Are you alright?”

She blinked once, then again, before refocusing on the world around her. A gentle smile tugged her lips upwards and she nodded. “Yes, of course. I was just thinking…”

… that I’d very much like to kiss you.

… of how you always seem to make me feel at ease.

… about you.

“... that we should perhaps part ways here, lest Freddy interrogate the both of us. You know how he is.”

Jacob chortled, nodding, his brows raised. “Indeed I do.” There came a little sigh, hardly noticeable, though gave the impression that he was almost sad that their time together had come to a close. The smile she gave him said the same.

Something heavy hung above their heads.

“Well, thank you for today, Jacob. There’s nothing like watching someone you know beat a crowd of grown men up.” Florence breathed out a laugh, shaking her head slightly.

There was a softness to Jacob’s face; the curve of his lips was gentle, the glint in his eyes screamed of something more than a simple care, and his gaze studied each of her features-- from that little mole on her bottom lip to the hump in her nose to the strands of mousy hair that had taken to resting on her forehead. The arm that had been hooked around hers moved forward but he paused before putting his hand on her hip. Instead, below her sight, Jacob’s hand balled into a loose fist-- a sign of a change of heart. “Florence,” her full name, “look, I really--”

Her hand came to his shoulder to stop him, heart roaring her ears. “I should really be getting inside, Jacob.” Ah, Christ Almighty, he looked like a kicked puppy. It was near indescribable how much her heart wanted her to push forward embrace him, tell him of all the tangled worries occupying her mind, but that very mind insisted that Florence had to make sense of it herself first. So, as to appease her heart enough to allow her a few hours of restful sleep tonight, she rolled up onto the tips of her toes, placed a hand to one of his cheeks, and gave a featherlight kiss to the other. She muttered a soft “Visit me again soon.” before turning and hurrying into the safety of her own home.

Jacob watched after her with wide eyes and parted lips. It was rare that Jacob Frye was speechless but, for a few moments, his brain was completely incapable of comprehending words. Was he blushing? His own hand came to his cheek and he frowned slightly. Maybe.

Bloody Hell.

London does have its surprises.

---

“A letter came for you while you were out, Florrie” was the first thing she heard as she walked in the door. Freddy, from the lounge chair, glanced over the newspaper he had been reading and to his sister, furrowing his brows at the red tinge to her ears and neck and the otherwise lost look in her eyes. “You look flustered.”

Florence hung her shawl beside the door and tucked a few strands that had come loose from her bun behind her ear. “Oh, it’s…” Eyes flickered over to the letter on the tea table before flitting to Frederick, giving him a reassuring smile, “... it’s nothing. I think Lissie made my corset a smidge too tight this morning and, well,” Her lips pursed and her brows rocketed toward her hairline, “I’ve already told you how overwhelming Willard can be.”

Freddy hummed, uncomfortable with the thought of a man being so shameless with his sister. The newspaper flopped at one corner when he gestured to the letter now in her hands. “What’s that about, then? Is it mother and father?”

She tapped the back of the envelope with her thumb for a second or two, having vaguely recognised the handwriting as most certainly not her mother’s, before tearing it open. It was an invitation to meet again the day after the next from--

“Willard. He’s asked to meet with me again.” She muttered, scanning over the contents of the letter.

Freddy frowned. “Couldn’t he have asked you that at the library?”

Ah, shit.

“He had to leave on ‘important business’ earlier than I expected so he must’ve just forgotten.” Florence had a talent for lying through her teeth, though whenever it was to her brother she did feel the need to pray to the Lord above at the same time.

Freddy was quiet for a few moments then sighed. Florence held her breath. “No doubt his ‘important business’ was--” The pitch of his voice heightened somewhat and it drew a smile up from his sister, “-- ‘collect my latest pomade shipment, make a fancy speech to parliament, plot the demise of Frederick Abberline.’”

She snorted, folding the letter back up and balancing it between her middle and ring fingers. “I’m sure he’s arranging the hitmen as we speak, dear brother.”

Freddy shrugged and raised his eyebrows in response, a motion that said “probably” before letting his eyes drift back to the newspaper. Florence paused for a few moments in her place, toying with the letter. She needed to speak with Lissie.

“When you see her next, can you tell Lissie to come up to my room? I’d like to get out of this corset and into a nice bath.”

“Of course.” Frederick gave her a little farewell smile as his sister made her way towards the staircase.

Lissie was something of an agony aunt and, goodness, did she need someone’s ear to chew off. In fact, merely thinking of it made her hands shake and breathing heavy. Even the gentle meowing of Duncan behind her bedroom door did very little to calm her nerves.

A gentle knock came to the door and Florence didn’t even have a chance to answer before the figure of Lissie bumbled through the door. She had two cups of tea in her hand and a concerned glint in her eyes; she already knew that Florence was worrying. Felicity was a good woman and Florence appreciated her very much.

Without a word, Lissie passed a cup to Florence and she began to blow over the surface of it, steadying it when the older woman took a seat on the bed beside her. There was a slurping noise-- how did she drink it while it was still so hot?-- then Lissie settled the tea into her lap, turning slightly so she could take Florence in fully. “What’s the matter, dear--”

“I like him.” She blurted out, honey eyes flickering from her tea to her maid. There was a look of desperation there-- as if she was hoping that Felicity could simple somehow magic away that clenching of her heart.

Lissie furrowed her brows. “You like who?”

“Jaco-- Mister Frye. We’ve been spending more time together recently and I-- and we--” Florence held her breath, keeping eye contact with Lissie for a few moments, before finally sighing. “He almost kissed me.” There was a pause. “I almost kissed him.” Another. She threw one hand up into the air and the cup of tea in her other hand wobbled dangerously. “I don’t know-- I don’t know! I just--”

“Lovely!” A hand came to Florence’s shoulder. “Lovely. Calm down.” Lissie’s smile was so kind that Florence actually felt her shoulders relax. Blue eyes met hers and, to reassure Lissie, she gave her a little nod. “It’s fine. He’s not a bad bloke, is he?”

“No, of course not. Jacob is… well, he’s really charming. He’s not a huge gentleman but he doesn’t have to be. I just--” Florence glanced to the corner of the room, where Duncan was watching them both, then back to Lissie. “I just think I really like him.”

That smile curled at Felicity’s lips and Florence stifled a laugh of disbelief. Before she could say anything though, Lissie was already speaking, “Oh, to be young and in love.”

“You’re lucky I need you, Felicity Marlowe.”

Lissie grinned, crow’s feet appearing at the corners of her eyes. “I know, I know. But,” The same hand that had been on her shoulder moved to her lap, giving Florence’s thigh a reassuring squeeze beneath her skirts, “you seem quite smitten with this Jacob fellow and, from the sounds of it, he likes you enough too. Is he why you’re always out?”

Florence took a sip of tea, avoiding the answer to the question for as long as she could, and flinched when it burnt her tongue. She swallowed once, with brows pulled downwards, then answered a simple: “Yes”.

“Do you enjoy yourself with him?”

A pause. “Yes.” Honey eyes met blue ones, remnants of the day swimming about in them. “Did you know he took me to a fight club today? I watched him fight; he’s the champion there.”

Lissie’s fingernails tapped along the ceramic cup and her lips pursed for a moment. “So, why is it such a dilemma that you fancy him, then?”

There was the real question. Why did it bother her so much that she liked someone-- liked him? It wasn’t like Jacob had done any wrong by her yet. In fact, he’d gone out of his way to make her happier. And, the way he had looked at her: as though she was everything that existed in the world at that moment. God, it made Florence’s throat tighten and heart swell.

“I should be looking for a wealthy husband. I need someone my father would benefit from.” Lissie looked unconvinced. Florence looked panicked. “Freddy wouldn’t approve either.”

Felicity set her tea down and held her hands out. Florence did the same and placed her own hands in the maid’s grip. A thumb glided over the back of her palm as an effort to comfort. “Firstly, you have never been concerned with such tripe. My Florence would rather die than marry into wealth.”

Florence’s lips curled into one of those smiles that said: “You’re right but I don’t want to admit that I was wrong”.

“Secondly,” One of Lissie’s hands came up to raise Florence’s gaze back to her, “in the politest way possible, fuck your brother.”

Florence frowned. “I’d prefer not to.”

Felicity groaned, rolling her eyes and giving a slight pinch to the back of Florence’s hand. “Hush, you terrible woman.” She huffed out a laugh, allowing Lissie to continue. “Freddy would disapprove if you got with the son of Queen Victoria herself. He might yap on about you needing to marry a ‘good man’ but all he cares for is your happiness, lovely. He’s probably just worried about Jacob’s intentions.”

Florence sighed, teeth gnawing at her top lip. She was right. Lissie was always right.

“What is it that’s really worrying you?”

That clenching in her chest began again but it was sadder this time-- scared. When she looked back up to Felicity, there were the beginnings of tears in her eyes. “I’m frightened he’s going to break my heart or--or--” One fell down the curve of her face and Lissie was already pulling Florence into a hug, burying the younger’s face into her own shoulder, “-- if he might leave me because I’m too b-boring and I--”

A gentle ‘shh’ came to stop her blubbering and stuttering. “Florence, lovely, you’re one of the most interesting, lively women I’ve ever met and anyone would be blind to not see the same.” Florence hiccuped into her shoulder, pulling away slightly to rub her eyes. At the same time, Felicity’s hands cupped her cheeks to ensure that Florence was looking at her. Red circled honeyed eyes, lashes thick and dark with tears. Lissie frowned slightly and moved forward to plant a kiss on her forehead. “If he’s gotten into your heart, it’s because he tried. I reckon Jacob wants you as much as you want him.”

God, he had tried. Jacob was so kind to her-- so willing to help her outside of this little box she’d been put in by her class. He wasn’t afraid to show her new things in fear that it’d ‘ruin her innocence’. He’d tell her horribly lewd jokes because they made her do that silly snort of hers. He, despite his sister’s words of concern, always went out of his way to see her.

Florence’s heart calmed down a little bit.

Maybe this all wouldn’t be so terrible after all.

Through a small sniff and her hands coming up to wipe away the moisture on her cheeks, Florence sighed but it sounded somewhat like a laugh. “That sounds terribly dirty, Lissie.”

Obviously pleased with how Florence had stopped crying and now had the beginnings of a smile playing at her lips, Felicity released her face and grinned, pointing an accusing finger. “I’ve seen the bloke’s shoulders-- nice and broad. Don’t lie to me and tell me you haven’t thought about him above--”

“Felicity Marlowe!” Florence slapped the maid’s arm, stifling a naughty little giggle. There was a wonderful sense of joy in the genuine smile of someone who had just been sobbing. It was their emotion in its rawest form-- walls torn down by the breakdown moments before. Despite her eyes and the red around them, light shone in her pupils eyes again. “Just go and sort me out a bath, please.”

“What? So you can think of all his muscles alone?”

Florence shot her a sharp look but the dimple in her cheek made an appearance, her head shaking. “No.” Then, a playful little smile graced her features and she glanced away briefly. “So I can plan on how I’m going to kiss him.”

Lissie’s grin was proud. “That’s the spirit.”

---

The park she’d been due to meet Willard in was quaint enough, with a little gazebo in the centre that a band played in. It was mid-morning, so the soft chirps of birds accompanied this melody, which calmed Florence’s heart to some degree, she supposed. In the light of the rising sun, it wasn’t difficult to spot Willard’s golden crown of hair. The mottled sun painted gorgeously against tanned skin and, when he heard the small clicks of her footsteps, he turned, green eyes appearing almost icy in the light.

“Dear Florence!” He stood from the bench he’d been sat on and took a few steps towards her. His head bowed and his hand took hers, placing a featherlight kiss upon the back of it. “I hope nothing terrible happened to your brother, hm?”

Florence’s smile was courteous and sweet but the sickness in her stomach remembered Willard and his feelings toward Freddy-- how he planned to use her. “Well, you’ll be pleased to know that he was fine.” Willard raised a brow, asking her to elaborate. She did, hooking her arm through his so they could walk together, “He had ripped my favourite dress accidentally and had begun to panic far too much-- the poor sod. Oh, sorry for the language. I’m--”

For once, Willard seemed to smile genuinely, breathing out a laugh. “It’s charming, Florence; you shouldn’t apologise. I have siblings, so I know it’s not always so easy to refer to them nicely.” He had leant into her somewhat to say this, as though it was a little known secret. Much to her own surprise, a little grin tugged at her lips. “If you’d like, I can put some money in toward reparations? I would hate for you not to feel as gorgeous as you always look.”

Here start the compliments again.

“No, it’s fine; I’m unsure on if I’d even fit into it anymore. I’ve had it for far too long so it’s about time I chose another.” Did Florence have actually have a preferred dress? No. She chose all of her dresses because she knew that she’d look good in them. There was no purpose in her having one particular ‘favourite’.

“Well, perhaps you should make the one you’re wearing now your new favourite. If I might say, blue is a beautiful colour on you. It really brings out the paleness of your skin.”

Great. She supposed blue couldn’t be her favourite colour anymore.

Florence’s previous thought that her conversation was going quite swimmingly with Willard, although brief, flew completely out of the window. In an effort to hide her growing grimace, she turned as if to look at the birds in the trees above them. “Thank you, Willard. I’ll keep that in mind.”

They walked in silence for a while, following a path lined with flowers. The quiet was welcome for a time until the realisation that Willard was never quiet for this long hit Florence across the face. She finally shot a glance toward him to find him looking less-than-happy with the world.

“You seem troubled, Willard. Is there something you wish to speak with me about?”

His eyes met hers after a few moments. Then, he gestured for them to sit on the bench just beside the gazebo. “What is your opinion of me, Florence?”

Genuine confusion washed across her expression. “Nothing bad, Willard. You’ve only been nice to me. Why?”

“It’s just that there have been… unsavoury rumours going about with concerns to my intentions with you.” Willard shifted in his seat so that he might hold her hands. Florence allowed him to, upholding that look of bewilderment. “I simply hope for this to be the start of something grander and I would hate for you or your family to think of me in a bad light.”

What did he know? What had he heard?

“What rumours might those be?” The speed of her speech made her seem panicked but, if he had picked up on it, he didn’t comment.

Willard frowned. “After Sergeant Abberline arrested my brother, some people have this sick idea in their minds that I’m out for revenge. What my brother did--” He swallowed, appearing quite disgusted. A terrible feeling began to stir in Florence’s stomach. “What he did was… horrible and I am ashamed to have the same blood as the wretched man.”

Was he lying? He must be. A barrage of doubt slammed into her. Maybe he was being truthful and the note was a set-up of some kind. But, on the other spin of the coin, perhaps he’d noticed he’d lost the note and wanted to cover up his tracks. There was a flashing memory of the look in his eyes when Jacob introduced himself. None of the puzzle pieces were connecting and Florence was beginning to feel quite light-headed.

She blinked once. Then, twice. Her hand came up to tuck a few curled strands of brown behind her ear in an effort to self-comfort. “I have never thought such a thing and nor has Freddy.”

“I’d still feel horrible to just leave it at that; I feel like I must prove that I’m not the creator of some dastardly plan. So,” Was that a shy smile? From Willard? “I’d like to invite you and your brother to dinner at my manor at the end of this week.”

What had she done to the Lord above for Him to invoke such wrath upon her?

Florence felt like her body had frozen, bar the heavy swallow she took. Dinner wouldn’t be… so bad. Yet, there was this pang in her chest that told her that living this double life-- split between being this Florence for Willard and the real Florence to Jacob-- would be her downfall but she felt that she had very few options in the matter.

“That sounds lovely, Willard. I’ll be sure to tell my brother when I return home. Speaking of which--”

“Oh, don’t say you must leave, dear.”

Florence’s lips tugged into a sad smile, patting Willard’s shoulder to comfort him. “-- I must leave to go home. Our maid is due to do the shopping soon and I must go with her; my cat has a very specific diet.”

Willard huffed out a laugh at this and stood up with her. “Well, I look forward to seeing you again this weekend. Do say ‘hello’ to this diva cat of yours from me, too.”

At that, Florence grinned and said her goodbyes. Beneath her, her feet went a little faster than usual.

---

The door was unlocked when she got back, Freddy obviously having forgotten to lock it on his way out to work. As soon as she stood on the creaky floorboard near the entrance, the door closed behind her, Florence let out a heavy sigh, shoulders relaxing somewhat. She set her little purse down on the little table beside the coat rack but stays there to lean on it for a small while, simply gathering her thoughts.

Her opinion on Willard was much like a metronome; sometimes, he was delightfully charming and today told that he had at least some sense of humour but, other times, he was like the wolf to her rabbit-- ready to consume everything she had ever stood for in a grapple for power. It made her feel weak either way; she didn’t want to kneel for any man.

Her breathing was deep and slow-- an attempt to comfort-- and one of her hands had begun to work on undoing the bun on her crown. Florence had had enough of today and it was barely the afternoon. She would write her parents another letter, read, and wait for Freddy to get home; she didn’t have the emotional energy for much else.

“A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.”

Florence jumped, all of her muscles tensing in one go to look toward the source of the voice.

There was Jacob, all amused at the sight of Florence so surprised, holding Pride and Prejudice in his hands. “Who knew books could have such profound words? Now I know where your fancy vocabulary comes from.”

Florence, despite her racing heart, laughed softly, shaking her head. With a brow raised, other hand out to ask for the book back, she asked: “How did you get in, Jacob?”

He took a few steps forward, around the lounge chairs, to give her the novel. “That maid of yours-- Lissie, was it?-- let me in just as she was leaving.”

The image of Felicity’s dirty little smile came to the forefront of her mind and Florence bit back a grin. “If Freddy had come home, you’d have been killed.”

“Oh, yes-- because your brother is capable of murdering me.” Jacob narrowed his eyes at her, snark dripping from his voice, and plonked himself down onto the nearest chair, playing with the fabric beneath him. Florence sighed, amused, but said nothing more, going to hang up her shawl. Jacob soon noticed the tension in her movement and the tiredness in her eyes. “What’s got you in a twist, lovely Flor?”

Of course he’d notice. He noticed everything. That feeling arose again when she turned to look at him, concern in those hazel eyes, but she swallowed it. “I met with Willard again today--” The slight frown Jacob adopted was nearly missable, “-- and he’s invited both me and my brother to dinner this weekend.”

He made a mock ‘ooh-la-la’ noise, despite there being a little part of him that hated the whole idea. “Sounds like a date. Perhaps he’s courting you and you don’t even know it.”

“Oh, I know it; he makes it all too obvious. I just don’t want to be… courted.” Florence paused, rolling her shawl in her hands. “Not by him, at least.”

Jacob’s little grin never left but there was something in his eyes as he asked: “Did you have anyone else in mind?”

Blood rocketed through her veins. She could hear it in her ears-- feel her pulse in her neck. Their gazes locked for a moment too long and his expression softened into one reminiscent of the other evening. Florence broke the moment by dragging her eyes away. “The only thing I have on my mind is alcohol; I need to relax.”

“I could help with that.” Briefly, she looked back to him only to be met with a cheeky wink. Her shawl flew through the air and landed on his face, muffling his chuckling.

“You’re terrible, Jacob.” Try as she might, she was unable to keep the dimple in her cheek away, facing away from him for a few moments so he didn’t get the satisfaction of seeing her laugh. When Florence finally looked back to him, he was still grinning, now wearing her shawl like a pretty scarf. “You can stay and share some wine, if you’d like--”

“No, no. Certainly not.” He stood up, shuffling around the table to get to her. “Come on.”

She frowned, confused. “What?”

“You’re not going to drink wine and mope at home. If you want to drink, we’re going to go to the pub.”

“Jacob--”

One of his hands were already on the doorknob, tugging the door open. The other he held out toward her like an invitation. “I won’t hear it. It’ll cheer you up.”

Florence bit her cheek, arms crossed beneath her chest, unconvinced.

“I want to see you happy again-- like the other night.”

Felicity’s word from earlier echoed about her head. Jacob did only want to make her happy.

Florence’s resolve broke in the form of a tilt of her head and a little smile. “Fine.” She placed her hand in his and he helped her step out of the door. “You have to give me my shawl back.”

Jacob, closing the door behind him, hummed. “You know what?” The hand that wasn’t holding hers stroked the fabric of the shawl. “I don’t think I want to.”

Her jaw dropped in mock offence and he half-shouted when her hand came up to try to pull the damned thing from his shoulders. “Give it back to me, Jacob; that thing cost me a pound!” Florence’s words came out through laughter, drawing attention to the pair of them from people strewn about the street.

“Alright, alright! I’ll give it back--” She went to grab it again and he leant away. That gooey feeling in his centre returned when she pouted, “-- if you promise to hold my hand on the way there.”

Florence sighed. “People will talk.”

“Damn them.”

She frowned-- thoughtful. Then, honey eyes melded with hazel.

Damn them.

“Deal.” Jacob didn’t have a moment to react when she tugged it off of his shoulders and draped it over her own. “Thank you.”

He stared at her for a little too long, the beginnings of a certain smile curling at his lips. “I think it looks better on you, anyway.”

Florence gave a little grin, unable to keep the red twinge away from her ears.

Their fingers stayed interlocked for the short journey there and Florence, it seemed, had underestimated how much more it made her love him--

Like him.

She only liked him.

#assassin's creed #assassin's creed syndicate #ac: syndicate #jacob frye #jacob frye x reader #jacob frye x oc #frederick abberline #florence abberline #evie frye #writing #THEY'LL KISS SOON #I PROMISE #but please enjoy this little cheek kiss for now #and also the beginnings of jealous!jacob

[it-snotam]

klein durm (erik durm fan fic) chapter 2

Well, that same afternoon, after thinking about it for a couple hours, I decided to grab all my things, I turned my computer on with the idea of getting out of Dortmund, or Germany as soon as possible, I wasn’t going to stay any other moment here waiting for Erik to fall in love with me. 

The cheapest and sooner plane I could catch was one that would take me to Denmark, I bought it before I could give it a second thought. I grabbed my things and I left to the airport, my plane was supposed to leave in an hour, so I had time to do the paperwork and I could even sit down and wait for my flight to be called. Soon I was in the air, leaving all behind, leaving Erik behind. 

I didn’t even imagine what was waiting for me as soon as I put a foot in this new country, finding a place to sleep wasn’t that hard, I found a bed and breakfast that helped me to get through the first days, but then finding a more stable place to stay wasn’t that hard either, the hardest part was trying to forget about Erik. And it’s been 2 years already and I couldn’t take him out of my head, he got under my skin, and I couldn’t stop thinking about those blue eyes. 

Well, and forgetting about him got even harder, because, ok, a couple feels after I left Germany, I found out that I was pregnant, I know you would wonder, how the hell you didn’t know you were pregnant before? but the thing was that I was kinda forgetful and so was Erik and well. 

A couple times I thought about going back to Germany, and tell Erik about it, especially when I was about to have the baby, but I didn’t. Mainly because a part of me didn’t want to know anything about Erik, and I didn’t think he would even care, I mean, he didn’t want to have something serious, he was focused on being a good player and if he considered that a relationship was something serious, well, a kid was something even more serious than a relationship. And that’s how Erik doesn’t have idea about Leo, and well Leo doesn’t really know much, but he doesn’t know about his father either. 

I won’t lie and say that everything was smooth at the beginning, it was kinda hard to go and live in a completely different city to the one I had lived these last few years, but I was lucky enough to find a girl who was looking for someone to share a house with her, and that was perfect for me. And with the years, she has become a really good friend, who didn’t kick me out when she found out I was pregnant, and who wasn’t mad at the idea of sharing the house with a kid.

I had managed to continue studying while I looked after Leo and I also worked some afternoon to pay some of the bills, my parents send me money every month but it wasn’t a lot of it. Since University was officially over until next term, I had a couple days off, I mean I still had to work, but I had managed to have some days off and go out of town with Florencia (the girl I live with) and Josephine, who was Florencia’s friend and also mine. 

The other thing I wanted to do during my sort of vacation was to wake up a little later, or at least try, since during most mornings I had to get out of the bed and go to classes and some other morning I was woken up by Leo, who wanted something to eat, or just wanted some attention, the boy looked just like Erik, he has blondish hair, same blueish eyes and his cheeks were constantly getting red, just like Erik’s. 

Talking about Leo, I suddenly felt some smalls hands pulling my hair, what a wonderful way to wake up. I slowly opened my eyes and I found that big blue eyes looking at me, and he made a loud happy noise when I looked at him. He achieved what he wanted. He woke me up. 

“Hey you” I say and the baby smiles at me and tries to mumble some words at me, but I can’t really understand, he can only say a couple of words. “Are you hungry little one?” I ask and he nods.

I sit on the bed and I take him in my arms, I walk to the bathroom and I wash our faces, then I brush my teeth as I rest him on my hip. When I’m ready I head down and get in the kitchen. 

Florencia isn’t down here, and I’m not surprised at all, I mean, she always has a really rough time when it comes to get out of bed in the morning, and she never gets to win the battle agaisnt the covers, I’m often jealous of her opportunities to stay in bed, specially when Leo is sick and I have to spend the whole night awake looking after him. 

I start to prepare breakfast while Leo is sitting inhis high chair and he has a couple cookies to eat while I prepare some milk for him. I turned the tv on and it was on a sports channel, you might wonder why, oh because Florencia was the biggest fan of football and she was constantly talking about it. 

They were talking about footballer’s vacations, I mean, the Euros were this year and the players who were called to play for their national teams, were now on vacations. I’ve heard, based on Florencia’s news, who kinda enjoyed letting me know what Erik was up to, that he hasn’t been called to play the Euros, and I knew that he was probably not feeling that happy about it. 

When I was finishing my breakfast, Florencia walked downstairs, I guess the smell of food woke her up.

“Morning!” I say happily, but since Flor doesn’t really love mornings, she just grunts at me, but as soon as she hears Leo trying to repeat what I said she smiles at him. 

“He you little guy” She says and tickles him, while Leo kicks his legs and makes happy noises, loving to be in the center of attention “Are they talking about Erik?” She says looking at the tv. 

I just ignore her, because I didn’t really want to talk about him. 

“I heard he might come to Denmark for his vactions, are you hiding again?” She asks and I ust iignore her

here goes the second part, I hope you like it!

#erik durm #erik #borussia dortmund #bvb09 #huddersfield #huddersfield town #football #football imagine #fan fic

[javistg]

Delly’s Present. A bilingual Everlark Drabble.

This little experiment is the product of 2 different ideas. 

First. A few weeks ago, the awesome @jobanana7​ posted this sweet drabble with a Mexican version of Katniss and a Spanish speaking Peeta. 

Second. A couple of years ago, I met this guy who fits my personal head canon of Peeta to a T. I’m not kidding! I almost fell backwards when I met him. Anyway, he’s Danish and, for the most part, we speak in English, but I’ve heard him speak Spanish on occasion and he has the cutest accent. 

Sooo, I guess you know where I’m going with this.

Up ahead: Everlark fluff, mostly English with dialogues in Spanish. I’m hoping the context will provide enough information for those of you who don’t speak that much Spanish but, just in case, here’s a link to Google translate.

Hope you enjoy.

Peeta squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. Here goes nothing, he thought stepping into the tiny shop for the very first time.

 Rustic wood shelves laden with beeswax products lined the walls.  

 The soothing colors and the faint smell of honey which lingered in the air relaxed him as he looked around admiring the different types of candles on display.

 Slowly, he turned towards the register where a welcoming smile greeted him. "Buenos días," the owner of the smile, said.

 Peeta froze in place.

 He had been living in Mexico City and studying Spanish intensively for the past three months. He still couldn't handle big groups or long conversations, but he had been to enough markets and shops to know what he was supposed to say in this case.

 Still, the words stuck to his tongue, stubbornly refusing to leave his lips as he looked at the girl behind the counter.

 She was gorgeous; petite, with long, luscious black hair --which had been woven into a thick braid-- and olive skin that contrasted beautifully with her bright gray eyes.

 He had noticed her on his first day at the language school. She had been opening the shop at the time, absentmindedly humming to herself while she dealt with the heavy metal curtain covering the entrance.

 He had seen her every day since, but he had never been this close to her. He'd never really heard her voice before now.

 You can do this, he told himself. Enunciating as clearly as possible, he asked, "Quisiera una vela, por favor."

 "¿De qué tamaño?" the girl asked, pointing to the selection of candles behind her back.

 Peeta considered her question for a moment. He wasn't buying the candle for himself, it was a present for his sister-in-law, and he wasn't sure which size would be the best.

 "Mediana," he finally said. Anticipating the girl's next question, he added, "Cuadrada."

 With a quick nod, the girl turned around and pulled one of the medium-sized square candles form the shelf. Carefully, she placed the candle on the counter in front of Peeta. "¿La quieres para regalo?"

 "Si, es para mi herma--," With a shake of his head, Peeta corrected himself. "Mi cuñada."

 The girl hummed in acknowledgment. Moving to the side, she opened a spacious drawer full of crisp tissue paper. Peeta's eyes lit up at the colorful assortment on display.

 "¿Qué color te gusta?" she asked.

  "Naranja."

 The girl scowled. Pointing to a bright orange sheet, she asked, "¿Este?"

 Peeta chuckled. Pointing to the paler shade next to it, he replied, "No, el otro."

 With practiced ease, the girl pulled one sheet of the orange tissue paper Peeta wanted out of the drawer and placed it on the counter. Delicately, she set the candle on top.

 "¿El listón?" she asked, "¿De qué color lo quieres?"

 Repeating her own question back at her, Peeta answered, "¿Qué color te gusta?"

 The girl shrugged. "Mi favorito es el verde."

 "Okay, verde está bien."

 Reaching under the counter, the girl produced a small box. She placed it next to the candle, opened it, and rummaged inside until she found the ribbon she was looking for.

  Settle down, Katniss told herself. She could feel her hands trembling as she returned the box with the ribbons back to its place. You can do this. Just wrap the candle without tearing the paper and talk to him.

 Trying her best to keep a steady hand, Katniss began wrapping the candle. She was halfway through the process when her customer spoke again.

 "¿Tú las haces?"

 Katniss looked up. His ocean blue eyes locked with hers and, for an instant, she forgot how to breathe.

 She nodded. Then, realizing that her nod implied she made the candles, she sputtered, "Mi hermana. Ella las hace, yo sólo las vendo."

 The boy smiled in understanding, and Katniss turned back to look at the bundle in her hands. Trying to keep the conversation going, she asked, "¿Estás de visita?"

 "No, estoy estudiando," he answered.

 Katniss nodded. The truth was that she had known that already. She had seen him in the coffee shop across the street enough times to know he was studying at the language academy.

 He was handsome, with a chiseled jaw, a mop of blond wavy hair, and the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. But what she liked best about him was his smile, bright and sweet. She'd only caught glimpses of it, but it always made her heart race.

 She had never heard him speak, though, and she was surprised by how fluent he was already. Even his accent, unmistakable as it was, had a lovely cadence. She couldn't get enough of it.

 Sliding the green ribbon under the package, she asked, "¿En la academia?"

 "No. Hoy fue my úlitmo día. Tengo una beca para la Escuela Nacional de Arte."

 Katniss's head snapped up, and she gaped at him. "¿En serio, el ENA?" The boy nodded. Katniss noticed his cheeks were turning pink.  "¡Yo también!"

 The boy's eyes widened. "¿Qué departamento?"

 "Música," she said.

 The boy nodded. Suddenly, he narrowed his eyes, crossed his arms, and huffed.

 Katniss smiled kindly at him, she could almost see the words turning inside his mind as he struggled to come up with his next sentence.  

 She was about to speak, to tell him she came from a bilingual home and that her English was just as good as her Spanish, but the look of determination on his face stopped her.

 He was trying so hard, and he had been doing so well that switching languages at this point would probably feel like a defeat.

 It would crush him, Katniss thought. That was the last thing she wanted to do.

 With a resigned sigh, the boy finally asked, "¿Qué instrumento?"

 Happy to have waited, Katniss asked, "¿Qué instrumento toco?" carefully enunciating the verb at the end of the sentence.

 The boy closed his eyes. "Toco, tocas, toca, tocan," he repeated tapping his forehead with each version of the verb. "Siempre la olvido," he whispered.

 "La guitarra," Katniss answered, "pero muy mal. Estoy en el programa vocal."

 Looking back at her, the boy said, "Cantas."

 It wasn't a question, but she nodded all the same.  "¿Y tú?"

 "Pintura."

 "¿Oleo?"

 The boy shook his head. "Acuarela."

 Katniss took one last look at her work. The balance between the dark green ribbon and the pale orange paper surprised her. He's got an artist's eye, she thought.

 Pushing the wrapped candle over to his side of the counter, she said, "Listo."

 "Gracias," the boy said. "¿Cuánto es?"

  With a smile, Katniss gave Peeta his credit card back. "Tu tarjeta."

 Taking it from her, he said, "Peeta."

 Her smile widened. "Peeta," she repeated, perfectly mimicking his pronunciation. It was a soft, sweet sound that settled in his chest and made his heart flutter.

 "¿Y tú?" he asked.

 "Katniss," she said.

 Katniss, he repeated to himself committing it to memory as he absently wondered if it was one of those old pre-Hispanic names his teacher had mentioned, like Citlali or Xochitl.

 "Katniss," he tried out loud. "¿Qué significa?"

 "Es un tipo de flor, pero no es de aquí."

 Peeta nodded. He didn't want to leave, but the transaction was over, and he didn't have an excuse to stay in the store any longer.  "Gracias, Katniss," he repeated, lifting his purchase off the counter.

 "De nada," she said, her voice suddenly sounding small.

 With a sigh, Peeta turned to leave. He had almost made it to the door when a new thought flashed through his mind. Before he had time to second-guess himself, he turned back to the counter and asked, "Hey, Katniss? La fiesta de bienvenida del ENA... ¿Vas a ir?"

 Katniss's face lit up. "¿El viernes?"

 "Si," Peeta confirmed.

 Katniss chewed on her lower lip as she considered Peeta's question. She had never been great with big crowds, and she didn't really know anyone at the new school. Yes, the rational side of her knew that was exactly what the welcome party was for, but she had been planning on skipping it all the same.

 But if Peeta was going to be there… "¿Piensas ir?" she asked.

 Peeta shrugged. "¿Por qué no?"

 Katniss laughed. Why not, indeed. Trying to keep her voice from shaking, she asked, "¿Nos vemos allí?"

 Peeta nodded. His eyes, bright and hopeful, found hers. "¿A las 8:00?"

 "A las 8:00," she repeated. “Nos vemos en la puerta.”

 "Okay," Peeta said. Without even thinking, he added, "I'll see you on Friday, Katniss."

 From her spot by the cash register, Katniss watched him leave. "See you Friday, Peeta," she whispered quietly to herself.

#things I write #bilingual Everlark #Delly's present #everlark fan fiction #se habla español

[guttersvillemayor]

Goodbye My Tragic Love Story

[I wasn’t sure when it happened but I knew I needed a change when the only time things seemed to make sense was when Pedro was around. When I found myself waiting for the next time he and I would cross paths. With Pedro, it was like I was a person and alive again. But the second he went back on the road, the numbness would return and I’d miss the life I knew back in New Orleans. I had the perfect excuse to go back and spend time with my family for a little bit with the holidays coming up. So as soon as I made up my mind, I started to pack up my stuff and set the wheels in motion to return to Louisiana. The few friends I’d made travelling seemed to understand my need to go home and recharge, but I wasn’t sure Pedro would understand. The second I told him of my plans he seemed to question little details I hadn’t wanted to think about yet like how long would I be gone and where would I be heading off next.

Doing my best to brush them off for the short period of time before I left, I focused more on finding presents for my family so I wouldn’t arrive home empty handed. When the time came for me to leave, I hadn’t realized how many people I’d come to know on the road until we all got together at a local hangout in Portland, Oregon where I’d last set up base camp. It was an interesting night which made me wonder how I could have gotten to know so many people and yet still feel the need to go back home. However, I couldn’t focus on those feelings as the puppet master behind the event stayed near me the entire night. A bright smile coming to my face as I turned towards Pedro as another person came to bid me farewell before they left for the night.

Once it got late enough, the last of our group of wanderers hugged goodbye and Pedro took me back to my place for the night. I would be heading out the next day and I wasn’t sure when I’d see him next. My place wasn’t much, just a little mother-in-law type apartment over some couple’s garage, but it had an amazing few and I didn’t need much space when by myself. Wanting to take one last gaze at the spectacular night sky from the balcony, I stepped outside while Pedro was in the bathroom. The haunting thoughts slowly finding their way from the background where I’d pushed them lately. Why did it seem that I could never find a sense of home or place no matter where I went. How could I be so unhappy in such beautiful places and with great people just like how I’d come to feel when I was back with my family in New Orleans. The fears that I was somehow broken coming to me unbidden and I release a heavy sigh into the night sky. My thoughts consuming me so much that I don’t notice Pedro has come out to join me until his arms wrap around my body.

“That was some serious sighing you did there, mi flor.” The warmth of his arms help me to relax a bit as I lean back into his body letting the growing tension in my body dissipate. “What’s wrong?” I shake my head and gaze off into the stars.] Nothing, just ready to be home and see my family. It was different when I lived in Baltimore, I had a job and life I’d built for myself there that kept me from being able to go home for holidays and such. But out on the road, not going back home is a choice that makes me feel guilty for missing this time with them… if that makes sense. [His lips press a soft kiss to the side of my neck as he hums his understanding causing goosebumps to bubble up. His voice soft whispering across my skin and sending shivers down my spine. “As much as you might enjoy going on adventures and travelling these days, you are more of a homebody than you realize, beautiful.” His words aren’t meant as an accusation or to point out a flaw, but yet I feel as if he’s called me out in some way. And I don’t like how it seems to resonate with my thoughts and fears. So I quickly turn around in his arms and do my best to redirect the conversation along with my thoughts.] Last I checked, you seemed to like this homebody, if I’m not mistaken. [

Not giving him a chance to respond beyond a nod of his head, my lips capture his and with a skill I didn’t possess before Pedro, I guide our slowly-entangling bodies towards my bed. It’s not until hours later when I’m laying away next to a sleeping Pedro that those same intrusive thoughts return. My gaze now focused on the sleeping man who seemed to be the only thing driving them back and yet causing them at the same time if I was being fully honest with myself in the dead of night. I was running away. Scared of who I was becoming with Pedro and what that would do to me when he wasn’t around in the long run. I needed space and council from one of the few people I trusted and that meant running back to Louisiana. Of their own accord, my fingers hover just over Pedro’s feature wanting to touch and catalogue everything about him but not wanting to wake him up as well. So instead I settle for my favorite way of documenting this gorgeous man who let me into his life and changed mine forever.

The soft clicking of my camera eventually waking him up in the dawning light of morning. His voice rough and husky from sleep as he gazes up at me from the bed. “What are you doing there, mi flor?” I chuckle and snap one more picture before setting down my camera and joining him again in bed.] Just adding another picture to my collection. [His eyebrow raising tiredly amused at my admission as I blush and bury my face into his neck. “And exactly how many of these pictures of me are in the nude?” The light caress of my hand down his exposed back stills for a moment until I pick up on the teasing tone of his voice and let it continue its journey down Pedro’s body.] More than enough to satisfy me on the lonely nights… but I’d never say no to adding some more, if you’re willing. [His low and sleepy laugh does things to me with my stomach flipping in anticipation of his answer which comes in the form of his lips kissing my own.

No more photos were taken with my camera, but I was left with more memories of my time with Pedro before I finally had to pull myself from my bed. How I made it through the rest of my time with him that morning without losing it, I didn’t know but as his arms wrapped around me as we stood by my car, there was such a sense of loss going through me that I seemed to hold on to him for dear life. “Be safe, querida. Text me when you get to Louisiana and when you’re back on the road, okay?” Not trusting my voice I simply nod my head and press a gentle kiss to Pedro’s lips.] Take care of yourself, Pedro. [A look of confusion passes over Pedro’s face and I know I need to get away before I say something else I shouldn’t. “I’ll see you soon, Emma Jean.” His words seeming to follow and haunt me as I head off on the road.]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[Those parting words did haunt me until the moment I saw Pedro on the streets of Fairhope, looking for me. It had been hard explaining the need for a recharge to Pedro without giving away just how much he’d become a part of my life on the road. But maybe something that last night together stayed with him until he felt he had to come here. I was still reeling from all the craziness of the pregnancy and Pedro showing up and hadn’t even noticed that it was Valentine’s Day weekend until I woke up the next morning to Pedro making breakfast in the kitchen. The noise of him trying to find certain kitchen items rousing me from my sleep and I noticed that at some point, Pedro had moved us from outside to the downstairs bedroom. As quietly as possible, I made my way to the kitchen, not stepping fully inside as I take in the picturesque setup Pedro has put together most likely to surprise me, including some flowers. Seeing the silly box of chocolates it hits me that the dreaded romantic holiday has come.

Most years I had avoided it as who would want to be reminded that they don’t have anyone special in their lives or feel ridiculous celebrating their lack of companionship. But it seemed Pedro for whatever reason was going to make things awkward this year when I’d rather just keep forgetting this weekend was even a thing. The soft sound of him cursing pulls my eyes from the tray and our gazes meet across the room. “I was trying to surprise you with breakfast in bed.” My left eyebrow raising up pretty high because while Pedro can be very romantic, this was definitely something that was more relationship-y than he normally did. Which was even more glaring after the conversation we had yesterday. He laughs at my reaction and pulls a pan off the heat on the stove which I’m guessing from the sizzling sound was bacon and I’m so very thankful for my lacking sense of smell that spared me from wanting to run for the bathroom and the porcelain throne to lose what little I had in my stomach.

I definitely had food aversions with my pregnancy but no sense of smell meant there was no heightened sense of horrible smells to cause really any morning sickness. I mean I still threw up from time to time as nausea remained a pregnancy issue but usually I didn’t realize some food was going to bother me until it hit my taste buds. So while I didn’t have to make Pedro get rid of the bacon like most pregnant women probably would, I definitely wouldn’t be eating it myself. In fact, it was only in the fridge because Dahlia and Reba hadn’t known of my pregnancy aversion to it when they bought it recently. Thankfully I had sausage patties that I could heat up instead as the craving for meat hits me. Finally stepping into the kitchen, I head towards the fridge to satisfy my current need for meat. Unfortunately the task doesn’t mean I can avoid the conversation that I know is about to happen.] As sweet as that is, you don’t have to do anything like that for me. Especially if you’re doing it for the sake a ridiculous holiday.

[My gaze leaving his so I don’t have to see whether or not that bothered him. I no longer felt on equal footing with Pedro, not that I really ever was. But now that I was acknowledging my feelings for him, I knew we had no future together and so I didn’t want to see if my words hurt him. There was already a serious chance we’d both be hurting by the end of the day with what I knew had to be said between us and I just wanted to at least enjoy my breakfast before reaching that point. “Well be that as it may, I thought you deserved to be spoiled a bit, mi flor. I’d found myself missing doing that the past few weeks.” His last words are spoken softly as if he hadn’t realized that fact himself until he uttered it out loud. My traitorous heart fluttering at the possible hope of what this could mean until the fluttering nausea in my stomach from our growing child drags me back to reality. With the sausage in hand, I press a soft kiss to Pedro’s cheek as I take over at the stove using a new pan to cook my sausage, worried that any leftover bacon grease might ruin the food for me.] Thank you for being so sweet, handsome.

[We work in tandem to finish the breakfast that Pedro had planned out at some point over the weekend and instead of using the tray he’d arranged, we took our plates outside to sit on the same piece of furniture we’d made love on last night. A heating blush creeping up my face when that thought comes unbidden and Pedro chuckles softly as if he can read my thoughts. But still we sit in silence as we eat our food and enjoy the beautiful morning and the waves of Mobile Bay. Almost as if it was the calm before the storm. Each moment making it very clear that while I could imagine a future here with Pedro and our child, he didn’t feel the same way. With each bite, I worked hard to build up the walls around my heart as well as the courage I needed to speak my piece to Pedro before things got any more complicated or drawn out. And when we both finished our food, I took the empty plates and set them aside not wanting to lose my nerve by putting it off any longer. “So what do you want to do today.”] Pedro, we need to talk. [We both speak at the same time while I turned my body to face him, and I can tell he’s confused by my words. “What’s wrong, querida.” His hands reaching out for mine but I keep them buried in my lap, clasped together. A deep breath coming through my nose before I open my mouth and for a moment nothing comes out. And it’s only my fear of what Pedro might say as I see his own mouth open that has my brain finally function properly.] I can’t do this.

[He quirks his head even more confused and I shake mine when he reaches out for me once more.] I’m sorry, I just can’t go back to how things were between us and pretend like that’s okay with me. [Tears welling in my eyes and as painful as it feels with my heart breaking to say the words, I don’t let my gaze pull from Pedro’s confused and hurt face.] You don’t want to settle down, and I respect that. Complete and total respect. But… [My voice breaking as I try to say the truth that I’d realized the night before.] I want that for myself. I might not be as religious as my parents, but marriage means something to me and I’m going to want to get married eventually. I don’t want to have some open-ended relationship, I want to be tied to someone in a more permanent sense. And I always knew deep down I’d be a mother someday. So I can’t deny that I do want marriage and kids in my future. Maybe not all of it at once and obviously not today or tomorrow or even in a year or two. But one day, and if there was a chance that one day you would have come to want those things too, the situation would be different. But you don’t and I don’t want you pretending that could change.

And, as much as I care about you, I also don’t want to continue this when I know it has an expiration date. I’d rather say goodbye now and part ways with only happy memories of each other. You have changed my life, Pedro, in ways I can’t even begin to explain, and you will always be a part of me. [My hands instinctively move to touch my stomach but at the last second I bring them up to place them above my heart instead. It’s as if the words are still hitting Pedro and I see him run a hand through his hair as he takes it all in. From his eyes, I can almost see the gears in his head moving trying to come up with some response but I know anything he might say could lead to me revealing more than I want.] You don’t have to say anything. I just care about you too much to not say something and let this continue on. [This time I’m unable to keep him from grasping my hands in his own as his words come out strong and adamant. “I care about you too, Emma Jean. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”]

No you don’t understand… [“Then make me understand cause I don’t get where this is coming from.” Our words seeming to overlap one another.] … I love you, Pedro. [This revelation seems to knock the wind out of Pedro’s sails. His gaze frozen on my face and it almost seems as a look of horror is etched on his face. “I…” he starts but doesn’t seem to know what to say next. A low, painful chuckle bubbling up at how this is all playing out and the picture of what we must look like right now.] You see now why I can’t go back because for as much as you might care about me now and hell, maybe one day you’ll love me back. Can you honestly sit there and tell me that you’ll return my feelings eventually? That we’ll be happy together? Because as much as I don’t want to admit it, I think a part of me has always known from the start that we were headed here. [Another bitter chuckle escaping me.] I always knew that you were too good for me, that I couldn’t be so lucky after all these years, but I wanted to believe it so badly that I lied to myself.

[Pedro tries to disagree but my fingers cover his lips to physically keep him from speaking words that will hurt me more in the long run.] I wish I could say that maybe someday things will be different, that we can find our way back to each other, but we both know that would be a lie. And I can’t wait here hoping for that day which might never come instead of moving on with my life. [As if taking the words literally, my body reacts as I stand up and try to put some physical distance between me and Pedro. “This isn’t fair, Emma Jean.” The gut punch of those words have me whipping around to say something and he holds his hand up to hold me off, clearly wanting to say his own piece now. “I don’t mean it like that. Of course, it’s fair for you to be honest about how you feel and what you want in life. I’d never deny you that, ever.” What space between us is gone as he closes the gap and brings a hand up to cup the left side of my face, and in my weakness, I lean into his touch. “What isn’t fair is that I do love you back but as much as I might want to, I also can’t change how I feel about marriage and kids. I desperately wish I could because I never imagined falling for someone like I’ve done for you, but I can’t deny you the chance at being a mother… because you would be an amazing one.”

If his admission of love wasn’t enough to rip my heart out, his words about what kind of mother I would make has me choking out a sob from deep inside me. How did this happened? How had it come to this? How could life be so cruel to have us fall in love and yet want such different things? This was sadly the end of my story with Pedro because I knew that if I ever saw him again, I would either have to come clean about our child which wasn’t something he wanted for his life even after falling in love with me or I would have to hide their existence which even just the thought of doing so felt like a betrayal to my unborn child who I already loved and felt protective of, even if that meant from its own father. Pedro’s lips capture mine cutting off my sobs and I can feel his own tears as we kissed one another with an urgency unlike before now. This was goodbye and we both knew it. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so blunt and given him hope, but I knew for myself and our child that it would only lead to more heartache in the future.

Our frantic energy propelled us back to the bedroom I’d woken up in and once more we’d made love. However, it was clear this would be our last time together and no matter how much we wanted it to never end, eventually it would. Just like on our last night together in Portland, I found myself laying next to Pedro, trying to memorize every little detail. Things I could tell his child in the future when they were curious about their father. I wouldn’t lie to them. They would know about the love we had for one other but how our story was meant to end this way. How thankful I was to have a piece of him with me forever, and how much I wished I could give him the same. So quietly I padded my way to the living room where my camera sat and brought it back seeing Pedro sitting up and looking around for me almost panicked. “I thought you were gone.” His voice breathless and worried and it hurt my heart because soon enough we would be gone from one another’s lives. But instead, I did my best to get out a chuckle and tease him.] This is my home, remember?

[And I can tell instantly my attempt at humor failed and he was reminded that I would always be here even after he left. My hand brings up the camera with a playful wiggle and I smile softly.] I was going to grab this. I figured we could… [I trail off, but it’s clear he knew where my mind was going and his arms reach out to pull me back into bed. We took several pictures together and I even let him take some of me by myself, which was rare as I liked to stay behind the camera not in front of it. But soon the sun starts to set and we know our time together has come to an end. So I let him pack his things up, while I quickly work on my laptop to gather anything and everything I can share with Pedro as a memento of our love story. I can feel his eyes on me from the office doorway once he was done collecting and putting all his stuff back on his camper. Tears again threatening to fall, but I do my best to hold all the emotions at bay. Which isn’t easy in my hormonal pregnant state.

Getting up from my desk, I hold out a thumb drive that he takes but not without letting his fingers caress my own.] It’s just something to remember me by and I also send you backups to your email. [A watery smile slowly forming as he clasps one of my hands in his own and leads me outside to his vehicle. Our bodies facing one another as we say goodbye for the last time. “I love you, Emma Jean, and hope you find the happiness that you’re looking for in life.” Unable to help myself, I press a wet kiss to Pedro’s one final time and then pull back as tears stream down my face while my gaze holds his.] I love you, Pedro. Please take care of yourself and be safe out there on the road. [He simply nods and steps back from me towards his vehicle, gesturing something that’s between a salute and a goodbye wave. I let my arms come and wrap around my middle, both to support myself and cradle my unborn child, knowing it was just me and them now going forward.]

#GoodbyeMyTragicLoveStory #EJMosbySL #EJ-Mosby

[rauliskafan]

A Hard Lesson in Miracles: Chapter 5

Authors’ Note: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, wonderful readers!!! To close out this festive day, here is the final part of our latest story!!! Will Natalia and Maggie reunite? Will Rafael have the perfect gift for his hermosa flor? Read on for more!!! @vintagemichelle91 and I hope that you enjoy, and we cannot thank all of you enough for taking our story to your hearts!!!

“This is the worst. The absolute worst ever,” Maggie whined. The traffic was so incredibly heavy that she swore they remained in the same spot for the past forty-five minutes. “Who had the genius idea to travel today? Oh, wait… you, did counselor.” Maggie’s brown eyes narrowed at her brother-in-law. 

“Apologies, Maggie,” Rafael said. “But you were my only hope.”

“Just call me Obi Wan Kenobi,” Maggie said, focusing on the traffic that moved just a tiny bit, but it did nothing to calm her impatience.

Along with the anxious energy trickling down from the top of her head to her tapping hand on account of the holiday…

 …and other things.

“I’d rather you and your sister call a truce,” Rafael said. “How much longer is this going to go on?”

After a few moments of silence, Maggie spoke.

“Before I knew that Natty was family, really family, I wished I had a sister.” Memories of her life with Diana and the days of loneliness invaded her thoughts. “Desperately,” she continued. “But now---” She was interrupted by an obnoxious horn blaring behind them.

“Where am I supposed to go?” Maggie screamed, looking over her shoulder, Rafael touched her arm, but she gritted her teeth and gripped the steering wheel tighter.

“Maybe this was the wrong call,” Rafael admitted.

“Think I have the monopoly on those,” Maggie said as a single tear ran down her cheek.

“Maggie, please don’t cry.”

“I can’t help it. I wanted to be the one Natty turns to. Because I want to turn to her. Especially…” Her voice trailed off, and when her tears intensified, Rafael released a heavy sigh.

“Maggie, pull over.”

“What? Why?”

“Just do it, please,” he said firmly.

She grumbled some words incoherently but nonetheless obeyed Rafael’s sudden change in course and managed to make it to the side of the road without too much of a fuss.

“Okay, care to tell me what this is about?” Maggie unbuckled her seat belt and turned to fully face Rafael who peered into her eyes.

“This has to stop,” he started. “The distance between you and Natalia… even the girls are suffering, Maggie.” He paused when fresh tears pricked the corners of her eyes, burning while the sun began to set.

“I don’t… I never want that,” Maggie said.

“I know,” Rafael assured her. “Look, you have to understand that none of this was meant to hurt you. This was me… this was all of us trying to protect you.”

“And a part of me gets that,” Maggie finally said. “I just feel like I’m in this thing too deep now. Like I can’t get out.”

“Stop that,” he said, gently grabbing her shoulders. “There’s always a way out of a bad time.” For one moment, he seemed distant. Was he recalling his younger days? Or was it still the nightmare of his most recent past? “And… and through it all, Natalia helped me heal. Helped me not to feel alone. Let her help you, too. Better yet, do it together.”

Biting her bottom lip, Maggie sighed. “I really miss the way things were, Rafael.”

“We can get it all back,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Natalia wants it. So do the girls… Maggie, I want you back in our lives.”

And slowly she laughed through her tears. “That is indeed saying something.”

Chuckling, Rafael still held her fast. “Then what do you say? Will you come to the party tonight?”

She started to speak but suddenly pulled him into a warm hug. Rafael happily returned the embrace and patted Maggie’s back.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he teased.

“Yes, I---”

Another horn blared frantically, but it seemed to magically do the trick, and the traffic began to flow steadily.

“Think we can still make it to that shop on time?” Rafael questioned with a glance at his watch.

“Watch me fly,” Maggie said, buckling up once again and merging into traffic without any hassle. “First the candy, and then… then I’m going to talk to my sister.”

Her voice trembled some, but there was no turning back now.

           “Hey! Need any help in here?”

           Natalia double checked the ziti to make sure that every cheese was nearly melted.

           “No thanks, Sonny,” Natalia said, pouring the rest of the gravy into the boat and starting to grate some Parmesan. Still, the detective lingered.

           “You sure?” he asked. “I’d be more than happy to lend a hand.”

           “Are you doubting my pasta-making abilities?” Natalia playfully challenged. “Do we need to have another cook off?”

           “I’d be game for that,” Carisi said, turning his head to the sound of Rollins’ laughter emanating from the other room.

           “That’s good to hear,” Natalia said, abandoning the cheese for a second to squeeze Carisi’s hand. “You must be happy to have Amanda back.”

           “Yeah.” Natalia’s smile widened when Carisi blushed upon meeting her eyes.

           “In the squad room,” he continued. “That’s… that’s what you meant, right?”

           “Sure, Sonny,” Natalia said, pecking his cheek.

           “Nice to be back here, too,” he said, obviously trying to change the subject. “Didn’t know if I’d ever get another dinner invite from you.”

           “Why would you think that?” Natalia asked.

           “Well, I… I mean the last date I brought by left a bad taste in everyone’s mouth.”

           She couldn’t help but cringe at the memory of Eve Selby and all that the woman left in her wake. Truth be told, she should still be furious. But Natalia shook her head and gave Sonny a quick hug.

           “We’re not wasting another moment on her,” Natalia said. “Let the past lie. And here’s to better things in the New Year.”

           “I like the way your mind works,” Carisi said, his head turned once more at the sound of Jesse calling out for him.

           “Go,” Natalia said. “It’s a party. Enjoy yourself.”

           He headed out, leaving Natalia to put the finishing touches on her main course, and Ashtonja appeared.

           “Want me to take the starters out?” she asked, gesturing to the marinated mushrooms and olives, the stuffed artichokes and the fried calamari.

           “I got it,” Natalia smiled. “Having fun?”

           “It’s… different.”

           Flashing back to the moments when they decorated the tree, Natalia envisioned Ashtonja in her lonely apartment, her mother lost, her grandmother seeking her own pleasure with no thought for the girl.

           “But better I hope,” Natalia said. She held Ashtonja’s hand, saw the girl’s face a blank slate.

           “The best, Natalia,” Ashtonja said. “I don’t know if I ever told you… cause I am like really grateful that you took me in.”

           “Stop,” Natalia said. “I’m grateful to have you here. The way you are with Violetta… that makes me smile every day.”

           Ashtonja almost looked as if she could cry when she picked up one of the platters with a smile.

           “She’s a cool kid,” Ashtonja said. “Guess she gets that from you.”

           Everything said even as so many things remained unspoken, Ashtonja left the kitchen.

           “Ash! Help me pick the music.”

           The older girl set the plate down, and scooped Violetta into her arms. Contented by the sight, Natalia’s brow still furrowed at the clock on the kitchen wall.

           Where was her husband?

           Wandering towards the window, she saw Brenna Harker standing with Fin. Trevor made a point of showing off his new gloves as Alessia and Rollins looked on.

           “And you should have seen this one on skates at Rockefeller Center!” Harker said, tickling Fin’s side and making him laugh. “He tried to play the novice, but I think we have a solid shot at the Olympic Pairs team.”

           “Who you gonna skate for?” Rollins asked, jutting her chin in the air.

           “IOC flag,” Fin said. “We’re a world unto ourselves right here.”

           “God, you are so bloody beautiful, Odafin!”

           Harker wasted no time seizing his face and kissing him full on the mouth, Rollins whistled, and Trevor applauded. As much as Natalia wanted to join in the scene, her thoughts kept turning to Rafael when there was a knock at the door…

           …and she swung it open to see Liv holding Noah with two Dodds at her side.

           “Merry Christmas!” Liv said, hugging Natalia as Violetta raced forward.

           “Noah! Look! This mistletoe! You have to kiss me every time we stand under it.”

           Now Natalia understood why her sweet pea had asked Ashtonja to braid the brand of holly into her hair, and when Noah leaped from his mother’s arms, Violetta gave chase.

           “Sorry,” Natalia said.

           “At least I know she comes from good stock,” Liv said as the Chief helped her off with her coat, and Natalia faced the younger Dodds.

           “Merry Christmas, Mike,” she said.

           “Natalia, I am so happy to see you.”

           He hugged her, and she felt as if she would cry when she swallowed the sadness back and faced him head on.

           “It’s been awhile,” Natalia agreed. “Is Maggie with you?”

           “She had something to do out of town,” he said.

           “She… so she’s not coming?” Natalia asked.

           “Your guess is as good as---”

           “Both of you can relax,” Liv promised, accepting a glass of wine from Trevor. “I have a feeling that she’ll be by soon enough.”

           Dying to know what the lieutenant meant, Natalia said nothing when the lights from a car neared the curb. She raced out the door and stood in the cold, blowing on her hands.

           “Atticus! Where have you---?”

           Her speech stopped short when Maggie emerged from behind the wheel. She seemed so small, hanging her head. But Rafael gently nudged her ribs.

           And Natalia held her breath as her sister ascended the steps, avoiding her eyes.

           “Hi,” Maggie whispered, her voice meek.

           “Hi, yourself,” Natalia said. Blinking against the chill of night air, she descended another step. Raising one hand, she nearly touched Maggie’s cheek when her sister leaned away.

           “I… I mean I know you said I was invited,” Maggie said. “Was that just lip service? Wouldn’t blame you after the way I acted.”

           “Maggie, I---”

           “Cause I… see I guess I kind of liked you turning to me for help,” Maggie continued. “Sharing secrets. Without that, I didn’t know what to… but it’s no excuse for---”

           “Maggie, I’m sorry,” Natalia quickly said. “It never felt right keeping you in the dark.”

           “So… can we be sisters again?” Maggie hopefully asked.

           “And friends,” Natalia confirmed. “The best of.”

           Extending her arms, Natalia gasped when Maggie flew into her arms, clinging tightly to her neck. She heaved a sigh of untold release to have her sister back, and as Rafael came closer, she mouthed a quick thank you.

           “You are more than welcome, mi hermosa flor.”

           Dodds commented on the cold, and the sisters finally headed inside, the room erupting at Maggie’s appearance.

           “Tia Maggie!”

           Violetta dropped her pursuit of Noah as she held Maggie’s legs and rattled on about all the steps they had taken to prepare for the party.

           “It looks amazing,” Maggie commented.

           “Are you staying, Tia Maggie?” Violetta hopefully asked. Maggie shot her sister a quick glance and sighed as Dodds helped her out of her coat.

           “Of course. Family’s everything on Christmas.”

           Violetta tugged Maggie towards the table as Lucia and Alessia played with the twins. Natalia’s thoughts turned to her ziti when Rafael pulled her into another room.

           “Atticus? What are you doing?”

           “A moment of your time, hermosa,” he said. “So, let me get the bad news out of the way first.”

           “Bad news? What do you---?”

           “I don’t come bearing gifts.”

           Looking like he had committed some unforgivable crime, Natalia moved fast to stroke his stubbled cheek and nuzzle his nose.

           “Atticus, you’re here,” Natalia started. “You’re home. That’s my gift. Don’t you know that?”

           His chin dropped to her shoulder, and Rafael pulled Natalia closer, his kisses peppering her hair. Holding her for several long seconds, the strains of Jingle Bells morphing into Rudolph and Violetta’s voice the loudest of all, Rafael finally, slowly drew back.

           “Only because you stuck by me,” he said. “Thank you for that.”

           “You silly man,” Natalia teased. “Where else would I ever want to be?”

           Their lips locked, and Natalia ran her hands up and down his arms until her fingers captured his.

           “So no sad faces, okay?” she said.

           “But I feel so… I had such a fabulous idea. Chocolates from Katie’s Kandy Kastle.”

           “How did you find out about that?” Natalia asked.

           “From you mother,” Rafael admitted. “But then the delivery got screwed up, and I had to head out there.”

           “That’s why you called on Maggie,” Natalia said, connecting the dots.

           “Place was sealed up tighter than a bank vault,” Rafael confessed. “All that candy in the window… almost like it was mocking us.”

           “Bite your tongue!” Natalia teased. “Chocolate is never wicked.”

           “Sorry. I forgot who I was talking to.”

           “The love of your life?” Natalia asked.

           “In all her Christmas splendor.”

           He kissed her again, his tongue tangling with hers until he sighed against her skin.

           “I still wanted to give you something more.”

           “You gave me my sister back, Atticus,” she said, her lips drifting towards his ear. “My gift pales in comparison.”

           “Hermosa, you don’t have to give me any---”

           “But I’ve been looking forward to it all day, Atticus!” she said, bouncing from one foot to the other, leaving his side for a split second, and returning just as quickly with a slim package in hand.

           “Merry Christmas, Atticus,” Natalia said, presenting him the gift and biting her lip as he smiled and tore the silver paper aside.

           “Oh! This was my… how did you…?”

           He struggled for words as he flipped through the storybook of black and white photographs. Edith, the Lonely Doll, stood in still frames on the city streets, imagining a world where she could never go home again. Until a certain Mr. Bear…

           “Abuelita always read this to me,” Rafael said. ���I… so many times I felt like this lost doll. Can thank my father for that. He hit my mother. And Abuelita…”

           “Atticus.”

           She hugged him, her head on his shoulder, and together they looked at the book.

           “Who wouldn’t want somewhere safe to land?” she said.

           Fearing that she had brought up too many bad memories, Natalia was about to take the book back, say that it could wait for another day when Rafael focused on her eyes.

           “Lucky I have that now,” Rafael said. “Mi final de libro de cuentos.”

           Smiling, Natalia kissed him and murmured against his lips.

           “And you’re my storybook ending, Atticus,” she said. “Te amo.”

           “Te amo por siempre.”

           Kissing him, savoring his taste, she whimpered when he left her lips but listened to his voice.

           “And I want all of us back,” he said. “Maybe you and me on New Year’s? Can I take you somewhere special?”

           Excited for him and for herself, she hugged him and tousled his hair.

           “It’s a date, Atticus. But tonight, we have a party to host.”

           “At your service, hermosa.”

           They started back into the main room and saw Alessia and Lucia showing the twins two tiny plush toys.

           “Baby Harolds!” Natalia declared. “But how did they know?”

           Rafael smirk told the tale as the Chief approached them.

           “Great party!” he said.

           “Glad you could come,” Natalia replied.

           “Glad to be asked,” the Chief said. “And look… I need you to keep this under your hats, but word is that you’ll be back in the DA’s office after the first of the year.”

           “Really?” Rafael asked, his voice beyond hopeful as Natalia held his hand.

           “Hear there’s going to be a new man at the helm,” the Chief said. “Could be good news for all of us.”

           With a wink, the Chief moved back to Liv, and Rafael embraced his wife.

           “Hermosa, I…”

           “I’m happy for you, Atticus.”

           They nearly kissed when Maggie and Dodds joined them.

           “Food’s great, Natalia,” Dodds said.

           “Thank you, Mike.”

           “We have to do this again,” Rafael said. “Soon.”

           “Can you make it next week?” Natalia asked. “Some time after the first?”

           “Of course!” Maggie squealed. “I’ve missed being here. And since we’re not keeping each other in the dark anymore…”

           Her eyes began to well up. Natalia hugged her sister and kissed her cheek.

           “No more tears,” Natalia said. “This is a happy night.”

           “I know,” Maggie agreed. “But see the thing is… these aren’t sad tears.”

           Exchanging a quick glance with her husband, Natalia saw Rafael shrug his shoulders before looking back to Maggie.

           “I’ve been with her all day, and I have no idea,” Rafael said.

           “What aren’t you telling us, Maggie?”

           The ballerina’s pearly white teeth surrounded one nail, and Dodds wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

           “Timing seems right,” he said.

           “Timing seems perfect,” she stressed, reaching for one of Natalia’s hands and one of Rafael’s. “So… my Christmas gift for my sister… and my brother… how do you two feel about becoming an aunt and uncle?”

           Rafael’s jaw unhinged, and Natalia gasped, her hands at her mouth before she extended her arms and pulled Maggie in for another hug.

           “Are you serious?” Natalia exclaimed. “How long have you known?”

           “It’s barely a month,” Dodds admitted. “But everything looks good.”

           “Let’s see if you say that when I’m as big as a house,” Maggie quipped.

           “Are you kidding?” Dodds shot back. “I’m looking forward to working more pizza into our menu.”

           “Just hold off on those desserts of yours,” Rafael quipped, and Maggie slapped his arm.

           “Oh, you’re going to head back to the Kandy Kastle on your own and keep me in chocolate for the next eight months,” Maggie said.

           He started to object when Natalia smiled at him from her sister’s side.

           “Wish granted,” he said. “You deserve nothing less.”

           He shook Dodds’ hand, and the four of them embraced as Judy Garland’s voice poured through the speakers. Natalia snuggled deeper into Rafael’s chest, and Violetta danced with Ashtonja. Trevor kissed Alessia; Harker made the same move with Fin. Liv and the Chief sang with Noah as Carisi and Rollins harmonized with Jesse. And Lucia played with the twins. After a long year their little family was intact once again, about to add another member. Natalia smiled at her husband as the snow started to fall outside.

           And everything was right in the whole wide world.

#raúl esparza #rafael barba #natalia barba #maggie dodds #mike dodds #dominick sonny carisi #amanda rollins #fin tutuola #olivia benson #chief william dodds #violetta barba #ashtonja abreu #lucia barba #a hard lesson series #a hard lesson in miracles #law & order: svu #svu fanfiction

[ac-ars]

Flower for sunflower

this happened because my girls @sky-girls and @lifesruiner wanted this to happen and ofc why wouldnt i do this for them?

(didn’t proofread bc why haha)

Luna is pretty.

That’s the first thought Flor has seeing Luna skating on the rink. She looks so free, so happy there, just like it’s her place in the universe and there’s nothing that would interrupt this nice moment. French girl moves out from the entrance just in case someone wanted to skate through it, and stands by the barrier leaning her elbows on it. Luna doesn’t notice her at all, still grinning widely about the spin she managed to do few seconds before. Flor tilts her head a little to the left smiling softly at the girl who seems to be sure of what she is doing and yet not at all, at the same time.

Luna lifts one of her legs while skating in the circle and almost stumbles, but she quickly regains her balance before giggling loudly at herself. Brunette finishes with small turn around and Flor can’t stop herself from clapping slightly and laughing with Luna.

The girl looks at Flor surprised, probably just noticing her presence, but she still moves towards the barrier.

“You’ve been watching all the time?” She smiles, blushing softly and French girl can only repeat her earlier thoughts about Luna being pretty. With this small blush she’s even prettier and definitely too cute.

“Not really, maybe like half. But you were amazing.”

Luna’s cheeks get even redder and smiles wider than before. “Thanks. It was actually easy one. I could teach you if you want.” She offers and Flor laughs out loud.

“It would be amazing.” Brunette grins and Matteo’s cousin wonder how people manage to live daily without constantly pulling the girl to their arms and protecting her. “But I really can’t today. How about the other day? I’m staying here for a while.”

“Yeah, it can work, I’m here basically all the time when I’m not at school.” Luna jokes and they both laugh before looking at each other for few seconds in silence. “You were here last year, weren’t you? You sang with Roller Band and everything. Flor right?” Said Flor nods smiling as Luna lets out air quickly with relief and leans through the barriers to give her small hug, but fails almost tripping over her feet. “Wow, I’m surprisingly bad at this today.”

“Maybe it’s because someone swept you off your feet?” Flor jokes and winks without controlling herself and Luna blinks at her few times before laughing out loud. “Yeah. Maybe this one happened.”

Flor just smirks softly.

Next time she decides to watch Luna is in Roller cafeteria when she’s sitting on the stage with Simón while Roller Band with Yam are playing their new song and Flor can’t really understand how it’s possible for one person to be able to smile all the time. Every single time she sees Luna, Luna is grinning, or laughing, or talking excitedly to one of her friends and honestly this girl is so full of light Flor feels warm from only watching her.

She remembers how Matteo was acting last time when she was here, still dating Ambar and yet throwing small glances at Luna and after these vacations he kept talking just Luna, Luna and Luna, Flor expected them to be dating or even being closer than friends, but she can’t see anything. They are talking sometimes with those grins, but that’s all and he never mentioned having a girlfriend except few days ago when they announced he was dating this Camila girl.

When the song ends Flor gets up from her chair next to Gastón who looks at her weirdly, but she goes towards Luna and the guys. Luna smiles at her greeting her with a hug and kiss cheek, just like the boys, but Flor makes sure the small girl is in her arms longer. It’s not like brunette opposes and keeps hugging Matteo’s cousin as long as she wants and Flor pulls away just second before it would be awkward.

She turns to Gastón, who seems even more confused, but moves his eyes at Luna and shakes his head. Flor shrugs mouthing him what, yet all she gets is more of head shakes and seriously, this is ridiculous, so she keeps standing next to Valente who doesn’t move away from her after the hug, and her left hip is hitting Flor’s.

It’s not like she minds of course.

They keep talking to the boys when Yam leaves looking for her friend and strand of Luna’s hair falls over her face. Flor reaches for it before brunette manages and pushes it softly behind her ear. Luna smiles at her and mumbles small thank you making French girl smile. She curiously glances at Gastón.

He seems annoyed while texting nervously.

Few days later, when Flor gets a little more used to Luna and her spontaneous blasts of energy and happiness, Valente gets actually a little calmer. Maybe it’s because Luna has exams to study for, but she doesn’t mind French girl sitting with her and Nina in Roller when they are revising some material. Nina is super nice, she’s actually great person and smart, and Flor can see why Gastón likes this girl, it’s obvious that she likes him as much and Matteo’s cousin feels really happy with this state of thing especially because Gastón is so gone for her it’s almost unbelievable.

Right now Luna is flipping through her notebook, filled with her messy handwriting and some highlighted parts; they seem be completely random, caused by boredom, but Flor can only find it cute, like everything about Luna Valente so far. After few seconds of watching, French girl can notice some doodles on the margins, mostly flowers or tiny stars, some dots or circles. Part of them is even colored and this is too much about one girl to be adorable. They are sitting on the couch, while Nina took one of the armchairs and it looks like they both are super focused. Yet, after those few days, Matteo’s cousin is able to notice how Luna is softly moving her foot in some only known by her rhythm, how she’s frowning softly and how her nails hit the back of the notebook. Her friend isn’t moving at all; just her eyes are moving with reading the text and the difference between the girls is so visible Flor wants to laugh.

She’s sitting on one of her legs, while the other is hanging off the couch and swaying in the air. Her left arm is on the back of the couch, behind Luna’s arms while fingers are gently teasing those pretty brown curls.

It is pretty calm and quiet, Roller Band is writing some song, judging by the sounds of guitar and confused voices. Valente growls taking Flor’s attention again and whines leaning her head back, to French girl’s forearm.

“You okay?” Flor asks trying not to giggle at this pout.

“No. I hate this.”  Mexican sighs pressing her face down to the notebook. “It’s so stupid.”

“It’s not.” Both Flor and Nina say is in unison before giggling. Luna just looks at them mumbling some traitors and goes back to her notes. Matteo’s cousin just smiles softly at this and winks knowing Luna throws a glance at her before blushing. Flor takes some of her pencils and starts wrapping one of those curls around it.

She notices Matteo watching them weirdly, but he’s at the counter and can’t really leave the place, so she ignores him for now; they can talk later while playing with Luna’s hair is funnier than Matteo’s life dramas no matter how her favorite of their cousins he is. Suddenly Gastón appears sitting next to his Nina, wraps his arm around her shoulders and gives her small cheek kiss. Flor grins at them not sure if they are cute or super cute, but they definitely fit together and she’s glad she had this little talk with Perida boy about his girl. He takes a chair next to her with small smile and nod at Luna and Flor.

“How are you girls?” he asks softly while playing with Nina’s fingers.

“Studying.” His girlfriend answers smiling and Luna growls under her breath. Gastón’s eyes shot to French girl who shrugs. “I’m just sitting there and trying not to annoy Luna.”

“You know you wouldn’t annoy me.” Said Luna pouts and looks at her with accuse. “Believe me, if I didn’t have to study I would be teaching you skating like I promised.”

Flor wants to answer, but Gastón jumps between them with his words. “Teaching, you say?” Valente nods and smiles at him and he hums thinking about something deeply. “Flor, Matteo wants to talk to you.”

“He does?” She asks frowning and Luna frowns with her. French almost wants to laugh at this, but she’s more curious of her cousin suddenly having time and need of talking to her. “What does he want from me?”

“I don’t know, little flower. Maybe some family shit. Don’t ask me, he told me nothing.” Gastón shrugs and probably only Luna doesn’t know that he is lying. She doesn’t notice all things she could’ve noticed if she took them as possibility to happen, but she still didn’t with Flor.

“Okay, I’m gonna go now, I think. Does anyone want something to drink?” Flor asks looking at all of them and only Luna seems to be thinking. “I will get you something, now study,” she says jokingly and Mexican whines again before Flor taps her nose with index finger making Luna giggle.

Perida walks her with his eyes until she reaches the counter and waits for Matteo to appear after getting the drink for this girl who keeps smiling at him dreamingly. He doesn’t seem to notice, but who knows him at this point; Flor surely not, because he hadn’t really called her since they were in Italy. He comes over to her while cleaning the glass and she still isn’t able to embrace the fact that this guy is working.

French knows that his father is crazy about his little baby son and he will at some point start to sending money to Matteo’s bank account soon, but Matteo has no idea about it; he probably didn’t even think of it for a second so a little work won’t hurt him that much. He looks actually angry, yet trying to calm down when he nods her to change sides so neither Luna nor any of their friends can see them. That’s weird, but it’s Matteo, so nothing new.

“Flor, you are my cousin, and we are cool, aren’t we?” he asks slowly, putting the glass away and playing nervously with the bandana around his wrist.

She nods softly, smiling at him. “Of course we are, despite you not calling or texting of course.” she rolls her eyes and he snorts.

“Then tell me…” he stops looking at the counter and taking the glass again. “Why are you hitting on my girlfriend?”

Flor almost chokes on the air, because this guy must be joking. Of course she noticed them talking. They were first thing she tried to watch when she got to Buenos Aires after all silly lovey-dovey stuff he told her in Italy, but they weren’t actually acting like a couple. There were smiles and small glances maybe when the other isn’t watching; there seemed to be some kind of tension between them and honestly that’s all.

She noticed more there last time she was in Buenos Aires, and Matteo was dating Ambar back then. So how is it possible that suddenly Luna is his girlfriend?

“Your girlfriend? What?”

“My girlfriend. Luna. Flor are you listening to me?” He is so jealous, that amusement breaks through all weird surprised and shock she feels right now. Her cousin though, doesn't seem any amused at this; moreover he is even more annoyed when she starts giggling.

“No, Matteo. Out of all this I can’t believe. Just tell me you want to hit on her first. Then you should be hurrying. I might get her before you.” French winks at her cousin who gets almost red.

“We are dating, for fucks sake, Flor. We are just having-” he stops with small sigh. “Crisis. Just a little.”

She pouts at him resting her elbows on the counter. “Is it because of your super career and super manager? If yes, I’m not surprised. I have crisis with myself while watching what you are doing.”

“You aren’t helping me right now.” Matteo sighs resting next to her and making some bitter face.

Flor chuckles softly at him and smiles. “Who said I would help you? I’m just honest, you said last time that you wanted me honest.”

“At this point I just want you to stop hitting on Luna, please.”

She sighs with thinking, unsure face, annoying him just a little. “But she’s so cute, Matteo.” His eyes soften so much that Flor isn’t sure who the guy is; she just gives up. “Okay, I will. Remember, though, that next time it might be someone who won’t chill when you tell them.”

Italian nods with resignation, taking his elbows up and stretches his muscles before taking deep breath. “Fine then, anyway, do you want something to drink?”

She grins. “Luna’s favorite. I have to get some points to beat you in her ranking.”

Matteo sends her deadly glare and Flor can only laugh out loud.

“Chill your ass, I was just joking. But seriously, her favorite. I will get some points for you.”

#soy luna #luna valente #matteo balsano #flor #i guess #my writing