#*takes on new asks while anxiously avoiding old ones*

[angstyaches]

Christmas drabbles, anybody? 🎄

[cryptidcasanova]

Four Sugars

Bob Reynolds x Reader

I’m a sap.

Summary: Late night talks and inside thoughts.

Warnings: Angst, soft pining.

Shaky fingers. Fragmented nightmares. Disheveled hair. You knew the look a mile away.

"Wanna get out of here?" you offer. "Just for a little while?"

Steel eyes locked on yours for a brittle moment. Bob was spiraling.

"Please."

The 24-hour diner was outdated, but it was quiet. Empty. It was perfect for two stragglers fighting to stay awake and keep a low profile.

The booth was against the window, and as Bob slid in, the faint purple glow of the neon light outside lingered on his cheeks. An old sweater covered his shoulders, almost blanketing him. He wore it for…goodness. He must have worn it all week.

It was a safety net.

A waiter strolled over, setting down menus and taking drink orders. Two coffees.

They brewed a new pot - you could smell it a minute later. And then, two ceramic mugs were brought over. You mumbled thanks, and Bob offered a half smile at the waiter before he stepped away. It didn't make it up to his eyes.

You watched unsteady hands dwarf the cup, then pull at the little sugar packets in the holder. Four sugars. No cream. Shaky fingers tore at the paper. The metal spoon clinking in circles was hypnotizing. You didn't mean to stare.

With a clarifying blink, you reached for your own. Two creams. One sugar. And when you finally looked back up, it made your belly ache.

Bob was still struggling, his eyes flitting anxiously and his Adam's apple bobbing. So you laid out a hand. An olive branch to calm the storm. His eyes caught yours again. A heavy breath.

His hand dwarfed yours, and still, you gave a tentative squeeze. Walker would have teased you.

But perhaps it was the grounding that Bob needed.

"Sometimes," he breathed, eyes darting outside the window, deflecting even when you could see his reflection in the glass. "It feels like I'm living just to feel the drop."

Oh. Your chest ached for him.

"I-I'm going to hurt someone," Bob thought. "If I do nothing, someone's gonna get hurt." Guilt chewed through him.

Ah. There it was. The last mission was challenging for everyone. Abrasions and contusions were common, but everyone seemed to need medical care this time. The most notable of the bunch was Alexi pulling barbed wire around his ankle. The metal dug deep. He had never needed a tetanus shot before. He pretended it didn't bug him, but super soldier or not, he wasn't indestructible. You noticed the limp still taking time to heal.

Bob's owlish expression and lingering presence when you landed didn't help. He was stuck in the tower, stuck on the sidelines. He had clearly let it fester. He took a sip of coffee.

"Careful," you warned at last.

It was a whisper, and his eyes landed back on you from the other side of the cup. Your stare was intentional and careful. And he kept steady, shoulders tensing. You leaned in gently.

"That's something a hero would say."

But there was a soft smile at the end of your words. And you swore you could see the upturn of his lips from behind the coffee cup.

"Is that," you dared ask. "is that what you want?"

He set his cup down with a swallow.

"I'm not a hero," he admitted, the words sour in his mouth. "I just. I just," and another pause, "I don't want to be a burden."

You laced your fingers with his. Warm. Bob was always warm.

"You know what I think?"

His tired eyes perked up, lips pursing as he shook his head. It was sluggish. Tired.

"You bring out the best in us." you flashed a self-deprecating smile. "I'm- we're lucky to know you. I can't imagine where we'd be without you." The quick correction didn't change the look in Bob's eyes. Strong. Hanging on every word.

This time, it was you avoiding eye contact.

"And when," not if, you made a mental note, "you are ready to be a hero, I think we're all a little afraid of where it will leave us."

Because as fucked as being twisted in Valentina's web was, she did make a good point. Bob was Earth's mightiest hero. He was it. He had that spark - something broken and perfect.

You were broken, but you weren't perfect. Not a god. Not a super soldier. Not even a half-decent assassin. If anyone was a burden, it was -

"Stop."

Bob's voice was more decisive. He squeezed your fingers. You looked up to find his eyes already on you. It was as if he could see the invisible spiral of your own line of thought.

"You're - you're incredible."

It was more confident than he had been all night. You didn't know where it put you. You didn't know where it would lead you. You chewed on your lip - perhaps you saw the best in each other.  And you weren't alone.

"Then, if we can't trust ourselves," you thought aloud, brows furrowing before relaxing, "Then we'll just have to trust each other, yeah?"

Slate eyes were tired of the internal battle. But even then, Bob looked more at ease. Talking about it did help. And as he looked at his hand in yours, Bob's focus changed. You thought you spotted a flash of color in his cheeks. But maybe it was just the glowing neon sign.

"I'm not going anywhere."

The promise passed your lips before you could stop it. Idiot. Why did you have to- your breath hitched, feeling before seeing.

Bob's thumb started rubbing slow circles on the back of your hand. Slow. Grounding. Calming. Warm.

You'd never seen someone so hopeful. Like your words were valuable. Like you were valuable. And the soft cadence of his voice? Groundbreaking. And you couldn't help but believe him.

"Then I'll try," he promised. "I'm not going anywhere."

[meganx]

Just One Weekend // Lando Norris x OFC // Part Two

Summary: Alice has been a Formula One fan all her life. When the opportunity came up to enter a competition that could mean attending an actual race, she pounced on it. When the news finally came that she had won, she was cautiously optimistic about what the experience would hold. Lando, on the other hand, would rather eat fish than spend an entire weekend entertaining a stranger.

All My Works

Series Master List

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Part Two

Alice paced the space between her bed and cupboard, anxiously deciding what needed to go in and what didn't. Her two helpers weren't being entirely helpful either.

Her mother sat with a printed checklist on her lap. Nora had always loved checklists and created one for Alice's trip the day after she told her she had won the competition. Although at first Alice found it helpful, all too soon she realised it would take at least three suitcases to pack everything her mother wanted her to.

Rory, on the other hand, sat next to the suitcase and snickered at everything Alice packed. "You can't pack that jacket. You've had it since you were twelve."

"It's my warmest jacket. What if it rains?"

Rory just rolled her eyes and flopped onto her back on the bed. "Do whatever you want, Alice."

Alice took that to heart. She did, of course, pack in everything that she had bought on her shopping spree with Rory. But she also packed her favourite pair of skinny jeans, the most comfortable hoodie she owned, and her bright orange cap - much to Rory's dismay.

"Here." Alice was handed a makeup bag. Rory explained, "It's all my extra makeup. Figured you could use it. Just in case."

"Did you pack the sunscreen?" her mother asked from where she sat at the desk.

"Yes. Sunscreen is in. So is the aloe vera gel, the jumbo pack of plasters, and the knee guard that I definitely won't need."

Rory snorted a suppressed chuckle. Alice just smiled at Nora. Taking care of others like this has always been her love language.

Just one more night and she would be on her way to Silverstone. Alice fell asleep that night watching old interviews of the drivers and the team.

__________

The next morning, she woke up still exhausted. She had been restless all night with thoughts running around her head so quickly she couldn't stay on one for long. The sun hadn't even started rising yet when she climbed out of bed.

She immediately opened the email app on her phone and reread the thread with the McLaren PR team. Just to get even a little bit of reassurance that this was really happening. She also decided to finally go through all the screenshots Rory had sent her of what she was supposed to wear.

Her confidence flickered as she scrolled through the photos. All she had been thinking of was seeing the cars and the drivers in person. She hadn't truly stopped to consider the unspoken expectations that she would have to live up to when she entered the paddock.

Of course, she was still excited. Her only bucket list item was about to be ticked off. But as she sat now, in the sheltered darkness of her room, she allowed herself to feel terrified.

This wasn't just about how she would dress. Although she knew she would need to video call Rory more than once while she was getting ready, and probably YouTube a few makeup tutorials. This was also about behavior.

Growing up, Rory always lived in the spotlight. Which was good because it meant Alice could avoid it with very little effort. But she would probably have to do interviews where she could say a hundred different things to embarrass herself. She'd be meeting people she truly, deeply admired. And again, there were so many scenarios running through her head of her saying something that would leave her embarrassed and on the first flight home.

She quietly opened Instagram and went to the post that was made to announce her as the winner of the helmet design competition. She hated the photo they had used, but it was all she had. Her hair was frizzy, and her smile was something she had always felt insecure about. It wasn't symmetrical enough. Not photogenic.

She looked through the comments. There weren't many. Just a few congratulations. But then she saw the latest comment. 'I'm dying. Lando's interview about this whole thing makes me feel sorry for this girl.'

Lando did an interview? Almost without a thought, she opened YouTube immediately searching for the latest interviews Lando had done. She watched two and found nothing where he spoke about her joining the team for the weekend. But then, she watched the third video and it felt like her heart sank through her body and onto the floor.

"Honestly, I think it's a waste of time. Right now, the team has more important things to focus on. We're competing for a championship, and somehow I'm supposed to prioritize entertaining a fangirl for a weekend? Yeah, I'm just not looking forward to it."

__________

Six hours later and Alice and her family were standing in the airport saying their goodbyes. Nervous energy still flowed through her bones and she used all her focus to mask her anxiety.

Her dad stepped forward and handed her what looked like headphones. "They're an old pair of ear defenders I found in my closet. Should help dull some of the noise." He placed a tender kiss on her forehead and took a step back.

Her mother also stepped forward and gave her a tight hug. "Call us if you need anything. We love you."

"Love you too, Mom." Alice smiled as she turned to face Rory and Mia.

Mia smirked. "Take lots of pictures. Of you, of the car -"

"Of Lando's face," Rory interrupted.

Alice blushed so deeply she felt sunburnt.

"Definitely take pictures of Lando's face," Mia agreed.

Alice laughed and pulled them both in for a hug. There hadn't been a moment of her life that she hadn't shared with either Mia or Rory. The thought of spending an entire weekend without either one of them just fueled her anxiety.

Rory whispered, "You'll be fine. Just breathe."

__________

Alice had finally made it through security and check-in when her phone rang. The Formula 1 theme song echoing around her.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Alice. This is Imogene from McLaren's PR team?"

"Oh. Hi, Imogene." Alice walked towards a nearby bench and plopped herself down. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes. Everything is in order. I actually wanted to talk with you about a slightly sensitive mater."

Alice's eyebrows furrowed. "Okay?"

"You'll be shadowing Lando for the weekend, as I already explained in our call a few days ago. But we just wanted to give you a polite reminder to keep to yourself and allow the team to do what they do best."

"You want me to make myself invisible?"

"In simple terms, yes. Enjoy your flight, Alice, we'll see you on the track in a few hours."

Alice sighed as the familiar click indicated the call had been ended. First the interview, and now this? More and more, she was wishing she hadn't entered the competition in the first place. It wasn't being invisible that bothered her. She had always enjoyed that. It was not being wanted that really got under her skin.

__________

Her carry-on bag thudded into the overhead compartment with far more force than necessary, but it felt like all her emotions were on overdrive. She didn't know what to do with all the anxiety and frustration.

"Sorry," she mumbled. The man in the next seat had looked up at her, startled as she shoved her bag into the tight space. She offered him a small smile, which felt incredibly awkward, and slid into her seat by the window. She gripped the strings from her hoodie so tightly that her fingers were starting to feel numb.

She still couldn't believe that this was happening - that she was actually flying to see a Grand Prix. But still, she couldn't find the excitement and joy she had first felt when she opened the email.

The thought of shadowing Lando all weekend after he had made it clear he didn't want her there made her stomach twist in a way that not even the turbulence of the flight could accomplish.

Running low on sleep after being up all night, worried about embarrassing herself, did not make calming down any easier. Even the advice she had googled on how to behave in the F1 paddock didn't give her any confidence. All the advice was the same. Advice like 'don't ask for selfies' and 'don't trip'.

Which was valid advice, she supposed, but she wasn't planning on doing any of that anyway. None of the advice she had read covered the intricacies of looking like a complete and utter idiot in front of Lando Norris, who would probably hate her from the moment he saw her.

As she walked out of the plane and into the airport she received a text from Mia.

Mia: Send me a pic the second you see him. Preferably of him shirtless.

Alice just smiled at Mia's antics. She was always an agent of chaos, and Alice loved her for it. She locked her phone and put it in her pocket while she waited to collect her suitcase at the baggage claim.

The carousel beeped and groaned as it moved. The conveyor belt was a mass of luggage that the people around her were lunging forward to grab. Her nerves were still electric as she took a step closer. People's necks, including her own, were craned to spot their bags as they slid out with a heavy thud.

As the carousel moved, she spotted a luminous green hard-shell case. Another suitcase was covered in Barbie stickers. A black bag with plastic wrapped around it.

But not hers.

Ten minutes passed. Everything is fine, she tried to convince herself. Then fifteen minutes.

She watched the same black bag circle by for the fourth time when her stomach finally twisted.

This is impossible. This cannot be happening.

She double-checked that the baggage tag info was correct. Everything matched up perfectly. So where was it?

Her backpack was still slung over her left shoulder. That meant she at least had her wallet, her phone, and some bare essentials. But everything else was in her suitcase.

Her clothes. Her shoes. Her toiletries. Every outfit that Rory had carefully picked for her. All the outfits she had packed because they were familiar.

Gone.

She quickly walked to the airline's lost luggage desk, nerves bubbling through the surface now. She was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack.

The woman behind the counter looked exhausted, and entirely over the day, as she smiled a careful, practiced smile and asked, "Lost bag?'

She nodded. "Pink suitcase. Hard-shell. White tag with my name on it, Alice Richards."

The woman nodded and typed on her very loud keyboard with the speed of someone who does this far too often. "Okay, so it looks like your bag is still at the airport of departure. It never made it onto the flight."

Alice just blinked at the woman.

"It happens more often than you think." She handed Alice a crinkled form and a pen. "Fill this form out and we'll have it on the next flight. Should be delivered to your hotel by tomorrow afternoon."

Alice forced a tight, polite smile. "Of course. Thank you."

By the time she stepped outside, looking for the driver who was supposed to be here for her, the panic had officially set in. She had no clothes with her except for what she wore. No makeup. No shoes other than her well-worn sneakers. Even her comfort hoodie, gone.

This would be the perfect first impression.

She yanked her phone out her pocket and quickly typed out a message to Mia.

Alice: My bag didn't make it onto the flight. Mia: Is this a joke to get back at me for the chocolate prank? Alice: Do I seem like I'm kidding? Mia: Not ideal. Can they still send it to you? Alice: Yeah but not before tomorrow. Mia: Okay. This is fine. Channel some main character energy. Go buy some expensive clothes and act like this was all planned.

Alice just groaned and slipped her phone back in her pocket. She barely had the money for the clothes she had already bought. Never mind buying another entire outfit.

She saw a man in a black suit holding up a sign with her name on it, and she dragged her feet towards him.

"Miss Richards?" the man asked. Alice nodded, and he continued, "There's been a change of plans. Imogene has said I am to take you straight to the hotel for a team dinner."

Great. She was about to walk into the most high-profile weekend of her life in nothing but worn jeans, battered sneakers, and a severely crinkled hoodie. Was there an award for worst outfit in the paddock?

If this was the universe testing her, it was doing a phenomenal job.

__________

The hotel lobby was sleek and modern. And Alice felt wildly out of place standing under a chandelier that probably cost more than her family's house.

She adjusted the strap of her backpack and tried to breath through the anxiety coursing through her veins.

"Alice Richards?" a voice called.

She lifted her head up and came face-to-face with Oscar Piastri. He strode towards her in a McLaren polo and a warm smile on his face.

"That's me," she said. Her voice came out a lot softer than she intended. Could he tell she had just been panic texting Rory about needing to find a toothbrush?

"I'm Oscar," he held his hand out for her to shake. "Imogene asked me to greet you. She told me about the whole luggage dilemma. I thought I'd make sure you didn't completely combust."

"I'm holding it together," she said. Oscar gave her a look that said he didn't really believe her. "Okay, I'm barely holding on. As long as the new trend is 'lazily-dressed and sweaty from a long flight', I'll be the best-dressed person in the paddock."

"I've seen worse," Oscar said. "One of our mechanics wore crocs to a race once."

"Was it a dare?"

"Nope. A personal fashion choice. The images still haunt me to this day."

Alice huffed out a small chuckle. This was the most relaxed she had felt in days.

Oscar handed her a McLaren-branded duffel bag that had been slung over his shoulder. "Actually, I brought you something. Emergency merch drop and some clothes courtesy of my girlfriend Lily. She said she put some toiletries in there as well."

"You brought me clothes?" she blinked up at him.

"I thought you might prefer some team gear and second-hand dresses to walking around in airplane mode. At least until your suitcase decides to grace us with its presence."

She took the bag from his hands, her heart feeling unexpectedly full and warm. "Thank you. Seriously. I was terrified of becoming a meme."

"Anytime," he smiled. "Apparently, you're joining us for a PR dinner tonight. It's not too formal, but Lily says there's a dress in there you can wear."

"I'll take whatever I can get. What exactly is this PR dinner going to be about?"

"It's mostly just introducing you to a few key people you'll be working with over the next few days," he explained. "We're only meeting in an hour, so you can go to your room and get ready. Your key should be at the front desk."

"Thanks Oscar."

He nodded and turned to walk away. "Oh! I almost forgot." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a lanyard covered in McLaren's logo. It had a paddock pass attached to it.

Alice took a deep breath and took it from his hand. Her fingers carefully brushed over the plastic.

Alice Richards. McLaren. All Access.

It felt heavier than she expected. Though she wasn't sure if it was the weight of expectations that she was feeling.

"You okay?" Oscar asked, head tilted slightly.

"Yeah," she took another deep breath. "It's feeling properly real now."

"It is. Make sure you enjoy every moment. See you at dinner."

He turned once again and walked to the lift. Her stomach did a flip.

She clutched the lanyard close to her chest and walked up to the receptionist, ready to wash the flight and anxious sweat off her skin.

_________

Lando sat at the table in the rented restaurant. He stared at his drink and wondered why he had even agreed to this dinner in the first place. He wanted to be back in his room and preparing.

Instead, he was surrounded by the buzz of soft conversation and the occasional clink of glasses. The PR team was sitting on one side of the table with the engineers and drivers on the other. Oscar and Lily sat across from him quietly talking between themselves.

Lando just wanted to get through the weekend. He wanted to win. Do his job. Go home. But, he was sat in this restaurant waiting for the contest-winner to actually show up.

A fan. A girl. A distraction.

He rubbed his hand along his jaw, the muscles tense.

"You're brooding," Oscar said.

"No, I'm not," Lando replied and shot Oscar a venomous glare.

"You absolutely are. And before you say anything, yes, I know you hate this whole arrangement. But she's already had a bad day. Please try not to make it worse."

Lando leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, "If she's not happy to be here, she shouldn't be."

Oscar just rolled his eyes, but it was Lily who spoke. "It's not like she's joining the pit crew. She's a guest. And she's also just a person."

Before Lando could reply, the restaurant door opened.

Heads turned as a woman stepped inside, flanked by two PR reps. She was smallish, definitely shorter than Lando. And she looked absolutely exhausted, wearing a white dress that looked suspiciously similar to one Lily had worn at the previous race.

That must be her.

Lando watched as she scanned the room, rubbing her hands on her skirt from what he assumed to be nerves. She held her head high, though. She didn't fidget more than that one action, and she didn't shrink under all the gazes turned towards her.

"She lost her luggage and still showed up," one of the PR reps at the table muttered. "That scored her bonus points."

Alice stepped up to the table, smiled in a way that showed her uncertainty and said, "Hi. Sorry, I'm late. There was a small ... travel disaster."

Her voice was softer than Lando expected. Something in it tugged at his heart. One thing was clear to him. She had a presence without even trying.

Oscar stood to greet her. Lando did not.

"Alice, this is Lando," the PR rep said cheerfully. Like they were introducing her to a friendly coworker and not a man who lately had the emotional range of a rock.

Alice extended her hand towards him, "Nice to meet you."

He shook her hand and noted the slight tremble she was trying to hide. "You made it."

"Barely. But yeah."

She took the empty seat next to him, and the table launched into light chatter about the next day's schedule. But Lando only half-listened.

He watched her instead. Quietly. Discreetly.

Some voice in the back of his mind said that maybe this wouldn't be a complete disaster. He ignored that voice and steeled himself.

[mitskicodedwukong]

💓 CRUSH 💓 || Triad!Wukong x Reader Oneshot

» crush (ethel cain) « 0:21 ─〇───── 3:20

╔⏤⏤⏤⏤╝🍑╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗ AUTHOR'S NOTE ╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗🍑╔⏤⏤⏤╝ ➤ This is reposted from my old account, @nothyenlowz :3 ➤ This is a oneshot. ➤ This is romantic. ➤ Reader is gender neutral (except for one use of "maiden" in reference to you). ➤ This oneshot includes Dragonhead/Triad!Wukong, who is apart of the Triad AU belonging to @/skittlescripts! ➤ This oneshot in based off @/dumplingsjinson's 4th unrequited-but-not-actually-unrequited-love prompt! ➤ TRIGGER WARNINGS include use of "name" (couldn't avoid it, sorry </3), profanity, denial of feelings, avoidance, lying, self-deprecation, angst, and crying. ➤ Word count: 4,340

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

❝ Camo jacket, robbing corner stores; hard odds to beat when you're on all fours .❞

You didn't want this.

You didn't want this.

It started off innocently enough—a blush when you caught the Great Sage's eye, a bit of a tremble to your voice or your knees when his hand brushed yours, squealing into your pillows when he gave you gifts. Embarrassing reactions, yes, but not surprising. Afterall, whole gods have found themselves swooning for the Monkey King—what chance did your mortal self stand against the demon's wicked charm? But surely your little... celebrity crush didn't mean anything significant.

Except it did.

You barely ever had crushes growing up, much less attractions so passionate you could call them love. But with Wukong, it came far too easily. You loved the way he spoke, the way he held himself, the way he managed to create a community of loyal allies despite his many enemies. But then you also loved the simple things—his real laugh, the one that made him clutch his stomach and cackle until tears were dripping from his eyes; the way his tail swayed like a dog's and curled into a something preciously heart-esque when he was excited; the way he smelt of peaches and flower. You were always finding out new things about him through opportunities presented to you and you alone, as if he was a whole world just for you to—

No!

No, no, no!

This is how the greatest friendships crashed and burned. That initial spark of attraction and a hopeful heart paired with a traitorous brain poisoning you with sweet what-ifs and flowery dreams is all it takes for you to make one irreversible, permanent step; for you to pour your heart out only to hear we can still be friends! and watch him drift away.

Well, not you. You weren't going to risk breaking your heart nor your and Wukong's friendship over a crush, no matter how insistent. So after many sleepless nights of brainstorming, you finally devised a plan to squash your feelings for the Monkey King.

1.) Create distance physically.

You tap your fingers against your thigh anxiously, fighting the urge to scratch angry red blotches into the skin while you wait for Wukong to pick up your call. You thought this method would be easiest for enacting Step 1, assuming Wukong and Macaque wouldn't be able to pick out any lies over the phone. But with how long it's taking him to answer, maybe you were better off just ditching your phone altogether—

"Hey, peaches!" Wukong's cheery voice greets over the line, making you huff in relief. "What's up? You're not calling to ask if you can come up, right? Because you know I've told you you can just come, riiighttt?"

Your heart swoons pathetically, and you have to aggressively remind yourself that hanging out with Wukong is the exact opposite of what you want to achieve.

"Yessss, I remember," you force out in a nasally, cracking voice that you pray sounds convincing. "But no, that's not why I'm calling."

"Oh, peaches, are you sick?" Wukong asks worriedly, and you can feel his furrowed eyebrows through the phone.

"No," you snark, and then you force out some rough-sounding coughs, grimacing at the way your throat stings. "This happens every year. Sometime near spring I get super sick for like a month—might be the pollen or something, I dunno."

"I never noticed," Wukong replies softly. "I'm sorry, peaches. I woulda helped you before if I'd realized."

Your heart flips again and you lean away from the phone to muffle a quiet squeal into your palm before returning. "It's—" cough "—fine. I'm a big girl, a little springtime bug isn't going to kill me. But it is gonna keep me in my house for a few weeks."

"In that case, why don't I let Macaque handle things for a bit and come over—"

"No!" You snap out, your hand immediately smacking over your mouth at the outburst. Fuck! You think, mind racing to recover from your fumble. You let out a series of coughs as you think, then lick your lips. "S-Sorry... while it means a lot that you'd do that for me, when I get like this... it's just easier to handle it alone. I don't really have the energy to be around people or have them around me."

You cross your fingers, your opposite hand gripping your clothes in a white-knuckle grip as a few beats of silence pass. God, let him believe me so I can hang up—

"Alright, peaches," Wukong replies in that same gentle voice, the one that makes you melt like butter, and you have to lean back so he won't hear the relieved puff of air you let out. You're so busy rejoicing you nearly miss what he says next. "But I'm still going to drop food off to you, alright?"

Seeming to sense the coming argument from you, he adds, "I'll just drop it off at your door and send you a message."

You sigh, a small smile forcing it's way on to your face despite the situation still not being as perfect as you'd hoped for. "Guess I can't stop you, sunshine."

"Nope!" Wukong laughs, popping the p. "Get well soon! Who knows what mischief I'll be up to without my angel to keep me on the path of grace?" he coos with a subtle purr to his words. A wild blush blooms on your face, burning your ear tips as you soak in what he said.

"You're supposed to be able to do that on your own, Great Sage," you croak out, burying your flushed face in your unused hand even though the cheeky monkey isn't here to see it.

"What's the fun in that?" Wukong snickers. Then his voice lowers again, squeezing your heart. "But seriously, take care of yourself, peaches. If you need space, that's fine, but if you need help, ask. There's nothing you could do that would chase me away."

What he says is sweet, so sweet, and dream-like. His words make you think of a fairytale, with you a fair maiden and him a brave, persistent, dragon-slaying knight.

But life's not a fairytale, and things won't go your way just because you wish on a star.

"Will do, Wuks," you say quietly. "Bye."

"Bye, peaches."

Beep-beep.

Step 1... achieved.

2.) Create distance emotionally.

You couldn't just get rid of your crush (well, you probably could, but that'd entail some magical intervention you're not quite desperate enough for yet), but maybe you could weaken it by limiting how much exposure you had to Wukong. Hard, considering how popular he was, but surely not impossible!

So, to start off easy, you got rid of your merch. You were able to sell most of it online, but the more stuff you got rid of, the more... upset you felt. Which made sense, sure—they were things you loved, of course, and if you hadn't fallen in love with one of your best friends, you'd never part with it—, but your thoughts felt... insane. You found yourself wondering if people would take care of it, if they'd love it and find the same joy in it that you did.

The idea of someone doing anything less made your skin crawl, and for a few brief moments, you considered doing full deep dives on buyers to make sure the merch was going to a good home. Then you reasoned you sounded absolutely obnoxious, like some creepy fangirl and not a close friend of Sun Wukong, and gave the rest away without any further hesitance.

Goddamn, did it sting though.

True to his word, Wukong stopped by your house once every few days with food and medicine. At first, you were worried he'd try to talk to you or ask to come in, but the only way you even knew he'd been there was when he alerted you with a message. You were grateful for it, but words couldn't describe the relief you had that he left no gifts in the bags.

If he had, that might have set you right back to square one.

Your house felt... empty without Wukong's memorabilia, but you chopped it up to your distaste for change. Obviously the nearly crippling discomfort in your own home was because of the now-barren walls (no way it was because you'd just given away dozens of sentimental items), so you bought some pretty posters of bands, artists, and games you liked and hung them on the wall. It wasn't the same, but you supposed that within time, it'd become your new normal.

You decided to ignore the way that settled on your body like gloomy fog.

Now... for the harder part.

Aside from merch, Wukong had gotten you plenty of personal products. Clothes, jewelry, perfumes, cooking utensils you'd been eyeing, plushies—that sort of thing. You knew just by looking at it that it was expensive, probably things that would land you in debt for life if you'd bought it yourself, and rare, too. Likely some one-of-a-kind stuff, knowing Wukong.

You spent three nights despairing over what to do with them. Giving them away to the masses felt disrespectful to say the least, and you didn't have it in you to fight with your heart so much when it protested the idea. Throwing them out didn't feel much better, and neither did burying them, but you couldn't keep them. No, no, no, it'd just encourage your stupid crush if you caved and kept anything, especially the personal stuff!

So you did the only thing you could think of: gave it to your family.

It still didn't feel great either way, but at least you knew they were being cared for. And if Wukong happened to ask for any of it back, it'd be easy to retrieve.

Later in the day, you expect to feel relieved at having found a solution, but it only fills you with dread.

All that's left are the notes.

You keep them in a pretty box in your desk. It's a deep red covered in bright splashes of color meant to resemble fireworks, with bright iron hinges on the back so it could open and close. It's perfectly pristine, not so much as a speck of dust upon it, its well-cared-for appearance taunting you as you lift it out of its drawer and sit on your bed.

You know you shouldn't look at them, but it's not like it'll change anything—you already have them memorized by heart, anyway.

Dear (name), "Sunshine", huh? Can't say it reflects much of who I am as an infamous, invincible god, but I'll take it over "simian" anyday! I think I'll call you "peaches" in return. It has a nice ring, doesn't it? Sunshine and Peaches. Like two peas in a pod. Anyway. I hope you like the clothes!

You laugh softly as you read the note. This had been after you mistakenly let your unspoken nickname for him slip after one of his meetings, flustering both you and the unprepared Dragonhead. Despite your furious blush and profuse apologies, Wukong had made you explain your reasoning behind the nickname (which was mostly Macaque's fault—damn him and his "sun and moon" metaphors). You were mortified, thinking you'd set your and Wukong's relationship way back, but when he started calling you peaches...

Sunshine stuck, and you two really did become peas in a pod.

You've torn through the whole box of notes by the time you realize there are tears running down your cheeks. When the realization hits, you bend over and press your hands to your face, open-mouthed sobs wracking your body.

Why'd it have to be him? You could've fallen hopelessly in love with anyone, and your heart chose him?

Wukong isn't the problem. No, not at all. Next to you, the Monkey King seems wild, volatile, too much. But that's only because you're a mortal, incapable of shining even half as brightly as he does. Wukong's a god, an immortal king, a being who'd felled thousands in mere moments—your best friend deserves someone who could meet him at his level, not force him into some domestic role.

Someone better than you.

The thought sends a sharp wave rocking through your chest, but with it comes some rush of desperation—you don't know if it's to fight for or against something, but it leads you to pluck one of the notes from its place on the bed,

turn it over so you can't see the words,

and fucking shred it.

That night, you lie amongst the torn pieces of paper like they're ruins of a city—something you used to know, used to love, used to find strength in.

Now they're something to be forgotten.

Step 2 is done.

3.) Find somebody else.

You have to admit, Step 3 was definitely a desperate plan B if nothing else worked, and, well...

Nothing else was working.

Your "sick" month had passed, and you were now three months into simple ignoring Wukong. You were honestly surprised the Monkey King hadn't broken into your house yet, but based on some demon conflicts you'd seen on the news, you figured he was busy.

But that wasn't the problem. What was the problem was your crush hadn't waned in the slightest! In fact, your attempts to get rid of it had only made you want to run further into Wukong's arms, where you'd be drowned in the scent of peaches and flowers and the feeling of soft fur and a strong body against yours and—

Goddamnit!

Part of you felt... tired; sick of what you perceived as dramatic and begging for a break from the heartache. It whispered to you, questioning how good Wukong was to keep around if he would cut you loose just for a crush—even saying that it'd be good for you. Save you the trouble and put you on the path of healing before it got real bad... whatever that meant.

But the other half of you fought and it fought hard. You wanted Wukong, even if it meant you could only have him as a friend. He made you feel good and you'd die before giving that up—that was why you'd started this whole mess in the first place!

Besides. Even in the highly unlikely, fantastical world that Wukong didn't reject you—you were a mortal, temporary and simple. Unfortunately, the same would be applied to your relationship. When you ended, so would it. If you couldn't grow old together, if you'd inevitably leave Wukong heartbroken and alone, was it really worth even considering?

No. That's why you're here at a café (far away from Wukong's headquarters, you made sure), sitting across from... your date.

They're gorgeous. With fawn-colored skin, soft brown eyes, and wavy, blonde, orange-dipped hair, they make you think of summer, of beach days and ice cream in the park. And they're sweet, easily cracking jokes with you and complimenting you without overwhelming you. They're... perfect.

But they're not Wukong, and the way you remain acutely aware of that as you share sweet treats with them destroys any hope you had of destroying this crush.

You're trying to think of ways to let your date down gently when you hear the door chime go off. A new customer is nothing to draw any real attention, of course, but a chorus of sharp gasps and your date's frightened stare looking past you makes you turn.

And, god, you wish you hadn't.

Wukong walks into the café calmly, his face unreadable as he scans the booths. You're fairly certain you already know why he's here, but when his eyes meet yours you just know you're fucked.

The café owner bee-lines to Wukong. "G-Great Sage!" They greet, bowing low. "What brings you here?"

Wukong doesn't break eye contact with you. "Nothing to do with you," he answers smoothly before approaching you in long strides.

You can do nothing but watch as he approaches, pinning your tongue between your teeth as you hold the intensity of his stare. Your date, seemingly noticing the tension between you two, reaches out to grasp your hand, but you gently pull away with a shake of your head.

"I'm sorry," you whisper sincerely, sliding enough money for the meal towards them just before Wukong reaches your booth.

The monkey eyes your date, unblinking. If this was any other situation (one where you hadn't avoided him for three months), you'd give him a gentle kick to the leg or something so he'd knock it off. But the situation is too tense, his presence too damning, and you're grateful for the few seconds you get from out beneath the demon's fiery gaze.

"Peaches," he finally murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear. "We need to talk."

Fuck.

You get up without a word, placing your purse over your shoulder and heading towards the front door with your eyes on your feet. You can feel everyone's eyes on you—or rather, the two of you, as Wukong walks beside you until you reach the door, which he opens for you. Then he follows you out, staying just far enough behind you that he doesn't step on your heels.

Neither of you speak until you get to a bridge, void of people and surrounded by cherry blossom trees. It's adequate shade from any noisy individuals, and you're not sure if it was purposeful or not, or how you feel if it was. Wukong stops beside you as you peer over the edge.

"Peaches," he says, his voice still soft. "What's going on?"

Fuck.

You immediately deflect. "How did you find me?"

You hear him suck in a breath.

"How?" You hiss out, glaring up at him.

He stares at you in silence for a moment, then turns on his phone. As he presses a button, your phone vibrates in your hand.

"You tracked my phone?" You ask, blinking owlishly.

"You weren't answering me," replies Wukong simply, pocketing his phone again.

Your face flushes in frustration. "I was out—"

"For three months?"

That makes you go silent. Your phone vibrates again, making the screen light up. You can see Wukong's name in your notifications, but you dare not look to see how many there are, lest it condemn you further.

"You know, I went to your house," Wukong carries on, his voice thickening. "All the stuff I got you is gone."

Fuck. Fuck, fuck.

"Yeah," you mumble, your gaze falling to the ground.

"Why? Did you not like it?"

You're torn between honesty and further denial. In the end, Wukong speaks before you can make a choice.

"You didn't throw out the notes."

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"It took—" his voice chokes out for a second. Your body tenses, your hands turning to white-knuckled fists at your sides. You don't look up. "It took a lot to put them together, surprisingly. Were really dedicated when you tore 'em up, huh?"

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Did you lie about being sick? Did you... were you just trying to get away from me?"

"It's not like that," you say, rushed, and you know as soon as the words leave your lips that you shouldn't have spoken.

"Then what is it like?" Wukong chokes out in a thick voice, but you still refuse to look him in the eye.

"I... needed alone time," you mumble.

"Why couldn't you say that?" Wukong replies, a bit of sharpness to his tone, and you can't help but feel like you've opened up the floodgates. "Do I make you feel so unsafe that you'll lie to get away from me?"

"Don't assume things about me," you snap hotly, your eyes flickering to his. They glow with a subtle red color, fixated on you, a testament to how much this has really affected him. But that's not what gets you.

It's the tears collecting in his eyes.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

"What else am I supposed to do?" He grits out. "You ignored me for three months. You didn't even text back to say if you were still sick, or if you just wanted me to stop contacting you—"

"Wukong, I—" you try, taking a step backward when the monkey flings his arms.

"And you didn't answer MK or Macaque, either!"

"Wukong—"

"You scared the shit out of me, peaches!"

"And I'm sorry for that," you bite out, managing to shut him up for a minute. You gulp, your grip on your purse tightening. "But I had... I have a problem I have to fix—"

"What is it? If you would just tell me I could help!" Wukong exclaims, reaching towards you.

"No!" You shout, twisting away from him. "You can't help, Wukong!"

"You don't know that!"

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

"I do! I do know that!"

"How?! How could—"

"BECAUSE HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU GONNA FIX ME LOVING YOU?"

Wukong falls silent. Still. Your hands slap over your mouth.

The two of you stand in silence for what feels like forever. The river feels deathly silent, and not even the wind blows. Finally, you remove your hands.

"I-I mean, I can fix it, don't worry," you say quickly, the words spilling from your lips like water. "T-These... feelings—they're temporary, I promise. They're just, uh, a b-bit more stubborn than I was expecting, y-y'know? But they're nothing serious, I swear! I-I know I've been difficult these past few months, I know, I'm sorry, just... just—"

"They're what?" is all Wukong utters, his stare burning through you.

You startle for a second, hands dropping to your chest. "T-They're temporary," you repeat. "Not serious, I swear. Nothing has to change."

Wukong doesn't reply at first. Then:

"What if I want them to be serious?"

Your heart nearly stops in your chest at the force of your surprise. "What?" is all you can get out, staring owlishly at the demon.

"I said," he speaks slowly, stepping towards you. "What if I want them to be serious? To be permanent? What if I want you to be head over heels for me, hm?"

You shiver as he stands before you, hands ghosting over your hips.

"What if I want it all to change, peaches?"

Your heart thumps in your chest, your mind desperately trying to make sense of what he's saying.

Surely he's not... he doesn't mean...

"I don't understand," you whisper, your hands hesitantly pressing against his chest.

"Oh, peaches," he coos softly, leaning in until his forehead rests against yours and all you can see are his eyes.

"Wu—"

"I love you, (name)."

Your breath catches in your throat, your mouth falling open in shock. Your entire body freezes, your thoughts halted as you process his words...

and then your heart soars.

"Me?" You crack out, a blush warming your skin exponentially. It's a bit overwhelming, the mix of love, surprise, and unfiltered relief. So much so that you can't stop the tears from building up in your eyes and slipping out as you stare up at him. "You love me?"

"Of course," Wukong says softly, his fingers reaching up to brush your tears away. "How couldn't I?"

A sob leaves your mouth at the question. "'C-Cause you're... I'm—"

"Simple?" Wukong ventures, frowning at your nod. He huffs, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. "Peaches, you are anything but simple. You're brilliant and talented and witty and a quick-learner. You keep me guessing even now, and I've been around for a while," he soothes you sweetly, a breath of laughter to his voice.

You can't help but laugh a little with him, your heart swelling at his compliments. Your hands slide up his chest and his neck, feeling the soft fur slide through your fingers, and settle on his cheeks. You mirror him then, your thumbs petting his cheek bones and brushing away the wetness in his eyes. Another wave of fresh tears overcomes you when he leans into your hands.

"You're the closest thing to perfection I've ever seen," Wukong murmurs emotionally, one of his hands retracting to engulf one of your's. "You're my girl. My peach. My qíng rén."

A sob breaks free of your lips again as you pull Wukong against you, hiding your face in his chest as you cry. The Dragonhead curls around you, as if shielding you from the outside world, which you're thankful for.

Damn. All of this to find out the great Monkey King loves you back? You're not complaining, god no! Despite your tears, your heart is doing tricks, somersaults and great leaps and cartwheels. It's just...

You definitely have some communication skills to work on, you think.

That can wait, though, you think then, your crying finally tapering out. You manage to tilt your head enough to see Wukong's face, the demon smiling down sweetly at you. Your fingers fiddle with his tie for a moment before drifting upwards and holding his face again.

"Peaches," Wukong calls softly, holding your gaze. "What're you thinking?"

You pause before answering. "I... I want to kiss you," you admit, watching the monkey's face turn a red hue similar to your's. "Can I?"

His ears wiggle, his nose twitches, and then he nods, and you can feel his tail wagging by your legs.

The time for picking on his adorable monkey mannerisms will come later, because right now all you're focused on is bringing Wukong's lips to yours and finally knowing how it feels to kiss the Great Sage.

It's done at an awkward angle since Wukong didn't let you go, the both of you straining a bit to meet each other in the middle, and you break away fast, but it's perfect to you. Maybe not how you imagined a requited crush kiss going, but it's your greatest wish come true in spite of that.

"I love you," he breathes.

Your breath catches again, your heart still flipping ecstatically. "Say it again."

Wukong grins, fangs peeking out of his smile. "I love you, qíng rén."

As you bring the Dragonhead into another kiss, you think of one thing.

Maybe fairytales do exist after all.

❝ Good men die too, so I'd rather be with you .❞

[sunnyrealist]

Chapter 48: Be Vulnerable with Me

The Sun, the Moon, and All Our Stars

Summary and Details…

Previous Chapter Recap/Context: Sebastian and Kate have decided to move in and officially begin their life together. He checked out of the inn where he had been staying for the final time and packed his belongings into a trunk. In this chapter, the two of them unpack, and Sebastian tells Kate all about his family as they view old portraits.

Pairing: 25-year-old, post-Azkaban Sebastian Sallow x 24-year-old Kate Mayflower (my OC), the assistant librarian at Hogwarts

Content warnings: In general, this is rated 18+, so minors should not read or interact with this story. This chapter doesn't have any smut, but there is a discussion about using an excessive amount of potions to sleep/escape trauma and recounting memories of lost loved ones.

Art credits: @hogwartslegacypics provided the screenshot in the background, and @giselsann-opencommissions perfectly depicted these mischievous little munchkins. Giselle is an absolute pleasure to work with and has provided all of the drawings for the story. I cannot recommend her enough if you're looking to commission some art!

The full chapter is available below the cut; it can also be found on AO3 (link is posted below). Please leave some feedback if possible, especially if you like what you read! 🥰

Chapter 48: Be Vulnerable with Me

It’s well past lunch time, and Kate hurriedly puts together a lunch of roast turkey sandwiches with crunchy carrots and cucumbers on the side. At the table, Sebastian absolutely wolfs it all down, and she has to put together an additional serving for him.

“Tomorrow, we’ll go to Feldcroft, yes?” Kate asks. “We’ll visit the cemetery, and perhaps you can show me where you lived.”

A sensation of panic erupts inside of him. “I don’t think we should actually go into Feldcroft. I… I’m not sure that the villagers will be friendly to me. Surely, they all know what happened to my uncle.” He imagines apparating there, watching anxiously as Feldcroft’s inhabitants begin to whisper to each other warily, close their doors quickly, perhaps even summon a local Auror out of fear. His heart couldn’t take it. “We should just visit the cemetery. It’s far enough outside of town that we shouldn’t encounter others. I don’t want to… cause a commotion or involve you in a difficult situation.”

Kate studies him and accepts his suggestion. “I guess we’ll avoid the Floo network and apparate, then.” 

The next few minutes pass in comfortable silence as they finish their meals. 

“Let me take care of the clean-up,” Sebastian offers, standing and gathering the plates.

“Thanks, dear. In that case, I’ll just be outside with the laundry.”

When Kate eventually returns, she finds Sebastian on the loveseat, engrossed in one of the books she had nicked for him from the Hogwarts library. Flicking her wrist to magically turn on the gramophone, she and Sebastian both smile as soft music begins to play. She continues on her way to the bedroom to fold the clothes and put them all away. 

“I’ll help you in a little while. I just want to finish this chapter,” he calls out.

Several minutes later, Sebastian enters the room and finds Kate a bit flustered. It was simple to put her laundry away, but she doesn’t know where to put any of his garments. Together, they conduct a magical extension charm to construct a closet, and Kate transfigures two wooden bowls into doors. He comes to a happy realization - this spell isn’t one that can be taken back, and she hadn’t had any second thoughts about creating the space for him.

Sebastian levitates his trunk into the bedroom, and little by little, everything gets placed in his brand-new closet. Some of his clothing has seen significant wear and tear, and Kate makes a mental note to try to mend some of the items when he is at work next week. 

Though he had previously warned Kate that he didn’t have much, she is still surprised to see that it was not necessary for Sebastian to magically extend it. The bulk of its contents were clothing; the rest, now, are miscellaneous items like his broom, razor, toiletries, a case filled with various potions, several dragonhide-bound journals, a quill and ink pot, and some old photographs, which Kate requests to view later. 

In the bathroom, Kate organizes the potions, adding them to her own store, organized by type. Some are new additions to her potions cabinet: his contraceptive potion, an invigoration draught, and a few antidotes for poisons and ailments. Kate is familiar with but has never seen such a large quantity of Wiggenweld potions, sleeping draughts, and Dreamless Sleep potions. She eyes them curiously as Sebastian enters the room. 

He immediately stiffens upon noticing what is left in his potions case and tries to distract her. “What shall we do for dinner tonight?”

“I’ll decide later,” she answers quickly, then studies his face as she asks, “Sebastian… do you typically not sleep well?”

The chestnut-haired man hesitates, not wanting to admit the truth - that he uses the potions as a crutch to avoid being plagued by insomnia, nightmares, and the phantoms of his past. “Well…”

“We’ve been sleeping together for almost a full week now, and I’ve never noticed you having any difficulties, so why do you have all of these draughts?” His eyes dart around, avoiding her gaze. “Seb… I need to know these things. We’re going to live together now. Someday, we’ll be married.” She takes his hand. “Please tell me. It’s alright. You can be vulnerable with me.”

Sebastian sighs in resignation. “You’re right... I should be honest with you. It’s just… difficult to talk about.” He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “I struggle to sleep. I have frequent nightmares and night terrors. When I’m alone with my thoughts and can’t fall asleep, I can’t help but relive the past - all of my mistakes, what I experienced in Azkaban, what I’ve had to do for the Kelpies… It’s so hard to manage it all. The draughts are my way of… well, avoiding further misery. I… In truth, I- I rely on them heavily.”

Nodding solemnly, she considers her words carefully. “Anyone in your place might struggle, love. You and I… together, we are going to get you some help from a Mind Healer. Using sleeping potions so often isn’t…” She trails off, unsure of how to say what she means without offending him.

“I know it isn’t healthy,” he admits quietly. “But other than sleeping with you lately, nothing else works. At least my sleep is undisturbed when I take them. I have to be able to function during the day…” He runs a hand through his hair, clearly distressed and starting to panic. His voice becomes shaky, his words spilling out quickly. “Look, K- Kate… I- I understand if you think it’s t- too much to deal with. You don’t have to stay with me - you don’t-”

“Seb, sweetheart - no.” Kate brings his hand to her chest, slipping it under her blouse and placing it over her heart. “Do you feel that - my heartbeat?”

He nods shakily as his fingers tremble. He closes his eyes for a moment, focusing on the steady rhythm of her heartbeat and the warmth of her skin.

Kate gazes into his eyes, speaking calmly and seriously. “My heart beats… for you, Sebastian. I’m here to stay. It’s not too much for me, I promise. We will get help for you. I just need you to be open to the help.”

Sebastian’s shoulders slowly start to relax, but his hand remains over her heart. “I’ll try,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll t- try to be open to help. For you. For us. I don’t want to keep living like this. I… really do want to get better.” 

She reaches up to caress his cheek. 

There is a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “Being with you… already makes me feel safer, more at peace than I’ve felt in the past decade.” He inhales and exhales slowly as a calming mechanism. “I- I’ll do whatever it takes to get better.”

“I believe you. Just remember, I’m not going anywhere. You can tell me anything.”

The two of them return to the bedroom and finally move the trunk, still containing various miscellaneous items, inside the closet.

“Now, can you show me those pictures?” Kate asks eagerly, grinning. She settles herself on the bed, sitting up and clutching a pillow against her abdomen. 

“Sure,” he replies, opening the trunk once more to fish out the photographs. He holds them close to his chest, as though they are precious and fragile. Before revealing them to her, he explains, “When I got out of Azkaban, I accessed my parents’ old vault in Gringotts. There wasn’t much there - certainly no money or valuables. Just a few mementos that Solomon couldn’t sell. I found these portraits and some journals that had my parents’ research.” He lays the pictures on the bed upside down, and then goes back into the trunk to retrieve some of the books, also placing them on the bed.

“What exactly did they research?”

Sebastian smiles, exhaling through his nose as he sits down next to his girlfriend. “Just about everything. They were experts in their fields. My da taught Magical Theory at Hogwarts, and my mum taught Defense Against the Dark Arts. They both researched heavily - especially during summers. Before they died, my mum was studying…” He grabs one of the blue notebooks, opening it and flipping through the pages. “Well, her work is quite varied. Healing Muggle children from werewolf attacks, non-traditional teaching methods for nonverbal offensive and defensive spells, and… erm… the Unforgivable curses.” He pauses, clearing his throat. His Adam’s apple bobs.

“So… your mum was also interested in the Dark Arts,” Kate notes.

“It was her job,” Sebastian quickly responds. “She had to know all about them. She… She and my da… they didn’t look at Dark magic as completely bad… just as regular magic is not always completely good.”

Kate nods, feeling as though she’s put him on defense. She tries to make up for it. “I suppose that is true.”

“My da traveled often for his research. He actually… believe it or not, studied reincarnation at one point in India. In fact…” Sebastian’s eyes narrow. “I should read his journals again, now that we know about our past lives. Perhaps I could pick up his research where he left off…” He trails off, looking thoughtful and determined, before continuing on. “My mum and da teamed up at times, too. They focused a lot on defensive magical theory and trying to find an engaging way to teach it to students. They also spent a good deal of effort… researching love as a form of magic in its purest form.” He smiles. “You know… they were… honestly, madly in love.”

Sebastian reaches over to the photographs and flips the first one over. Kate grins, her eyes scanning over every little detail. It’s clearly a portrait of his parents on their wedding day. Sebastian is the spitting image of his mother, who appears to have lots of freckles and soft curls. Her wedding gown is fashionable for the era; she wears a veil and carries a simple bouquet of roses and baby’s breath. His father has dark hair with a mustache and beard, and he holds and gazes at his wife in complete adoration. They look so cheerful.

“I remember how they would read together at night, holding hands,” Sebastian murmurs. “They’d whisper sweet words to each other, and much to my dismay as a young lad, they would kiss often. They supported each other fervently, and they loved working together. Our house in Aranshire was filled with books, and the cellar was their official workspace. Anne and I were told that if they were in the cellar, they were not to be disturbed unless there was an emergency.”

Kate reaches out to touch Sebastian’s hand. “That’s so sweet. How did they meet?”

“At Hogwarts,” Sebastian answers with a grin. “They were academic rivals. My mum was in Ravenclaw, and my da was in Slytherin. They had classes together over the years, and they were always competing for top marks. Supposedly, it all changed when they were assigned to work on a yearlong project in Potions class their seventh year, and they realized how similar they actually were and became friends… and then, it turned into love. When they graduated, they got married straight away. Anne and I didn’t come along until quite some time later.”

“Do you think their Potions professor put them together as partners on purpose?” Kate giggles. “I feel like I would do something like that if I was a teacher… just to see what happens. The drama. But I can’t imagine Professor Sharp, for example, ever doing such a thing…”

Sebastian laughs at the thought. “No way would Sharp do that.”

“What was your mum’s name?” Kate asks.

“She was Selina Ware,” he replies. “She had a brother, but he died in his twenties in a work accident, so I never met him. The entire Ware family line - they all passed away before I was born. That’s why Anne and I were forced to live with Solomon, my da’s brother.” He looks into the distance, stony-faced.

“Hey. Let’s focus on the good.” Kate squeezes his hand. “Leave your uncle out of it. Don’t let the bastard weasel into your happy memories. I’ve heard enough about him to know I would have hated him.” 

Sebastian laughs out loud, surprised by her reaction, and he leans over to kiss her cheek. “You have no idea how much I love you.” 

The next picture is one of Anne and Sebastian as young children, likely around seven years old. Kate grins in delight as she sees their coordinated sailor-type outfits. Both of them look incredibly mischievous - Anne more so than her brother. She has a cheeky smile on her face and a slingshot in hand. Sebastian carries a book - no surprise there.

“Oh gods, you were adorable!” Kate coos. “Look - you were missing a tooth! And your hair was so curly…”

Sebastian huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, my mum could never get my hair to behave. It was always out of control. Honestly, my hair’s always been like that. Now, I just keep it shorter, and it seems to be more manageable that way.”

Kate looks even closer at the photograph, examining the setting. “Where was this taken?”

“In front of our house in Aranshire,” Sebastian answers. 

“Seb… If our children are even half as cute as you were, I’ll never be able to say no to them,” Kate murmurs. “And Anne - what a beauty! And how interesting - her hair doesn’t look curly at all…”

“She took after our da,” Sebastian explains. “My mum never had a problem putting her hair into braids or other styles. It was always my hair that was the issue.”

“Did they put you and Anne in matching outfits all the time?” 

“No. They wanted us to have our own identities outside of being twins,” he says fondly. “We only matched when we were really young, when there was an occasion for it, like posing for a photograph.”

When they view the final portrait, Sebastian puts his arm around Kate. This is a family portrait, and Mr. and Mrs. Sallow appear to be more than a decade older than in their wedding photo. His mum wears her hair pulled back with a hat, and her outfit consists of a jacket, white blouse, and a matching skirt. Sebastian’s father wears a formal suit with many pieces. They stand behind the twins with their hands on their shoulders. Sebastian is wearing a collared shirt with a bow tie, suspenders, and breeches with tall stockings. He is grinning from ear to ear, showing all of his teeth. Anne is wearing a floral dress that flows just past her knees with a bow in her hair.

“How old were you here?” Kate queries, her focus fixed on all of the little details.

“Around ten years old. I remember this was taken shortly before they passed,” Sebastian recounts. “I remember that our parents were so excited for us to get our Hogwarts letters. It was practically all Anne and I ever wanted to discuss. They knew we were going to do so well in school.” His eyes soften. “Since they were professors, they were aware of the curriculum and had us read some of our textbooks in advance so that we could get as much out of our education as possible. I devoured those books - so did Anne. In fact, we sometimes fought over the textbooks. We also knew our way around Hogwarts because our parents would bring us there once in a while during summer.” 

After some time, Kate murmurs, “What a tragedy that such brilliant minds could be snuffed out by a gas leak from a lamp.”

“Yes,” he replies softly. “A silent killer. I… I wish there was something I could have done, but it was too late when Anne and I found them. If… If I had been close by, I might have heard it go silent…” He stops talking for a while, attempting to put aside his typical, go-to negative and unproductive thoughts. Focus on the good. “I… I guess for me, it’s a reminder that nothing is promised. We have to treasure all of the time we are given with our loved ones. And, Merlin, we spent so many happy years together in Aranshire. I miss them so much. All of them.” 

Kate pulls Sebastian close, kissing his hair. 

A sense of warmth and contentment fills Sebastian’s soul as she continues to study the photographs in depth. It’s been a long time since he allowed himself to really reminisce about family - at least, the positive aspects of his childhood. Seeing Kate so engaged and wanting to learn as much as she can about his mum, da, and Anne, a newfound appreciation grows within him. He relishes the moment, nuzzling into her chest as they bask in the comfort of each other’s presence. There is a profound tranquility in their connection - a sense of being understood and accepted completely. He knows their road ahead may not be easy, but he is more sure than ever before that they can overcome anything as long as they stand together.

“Do you… think they would have liked me?” Kate wonders quietly. “Or might they have envisioned someone very different for you?”

Sebastian considers her question for a moment and shifts, sitting up. “They would have loved you, Kate. You embody so many of the qualities my family valued deeply - intelligence, loyalty, an open mind… And your ability to see the best in me is… well, something truly special. They would have recognized your kindness and the way you uplift me. So… yes, I genuinely believe they would have approved of you wholeheartedly.”

Kate doesn’t respond right away, feeling a bit emotional. “I wish I could have known them.”

“I know,” he replies. “I wish you could have known them, too. They would have adored your joyful spirit and your warmth. But maybe… Maybe, in a way, they know you now. Every time we share memories and make new ones, perhaps they are with us.”

A tear slips out of Kate’s eye, despite her attempt to blink it away. “That’s… the best way to think of them, Seb. I’m sure you are right.” She finally places the portraits on the bed beside her. “We should frame these. They should be displayed in our home.”

“You’re right,” he murmurs. “They should be cherished, not locked away in my trunk.”

Kate’s eyes light up with an idea. “Let me pick out frames next week.” She looks into the depths of his eyes. “I know I will never really meet them, but it’s important to me that your family has a place here, too.”

Sebastian’s eyes are locked on her, a mixture of awe and gratitude in his expression. “Thank you, Kate. I… can’t fully put it into words, but it means the world to me that you care so deeply about honoring my family’s memory.” He places a soft kiss on her forehead.

“And we can add our own portraits someday,” she adds. “Did you know that a photographer just opened a shop in Hogsmeade?”

“I wasn’t aware of that,” he replies, his interest piqued. “Did you… have something in mind?”

Kate blushes a little. “I mean… I guess I thought it might be nice for us to pose for a portrait together.” She looks a little pensive - dreamy, even. “I might like to keep a picture of you in a locket, if I may be so bold.” 

Sebastian reaches out to tuck some hair behind her ear, his touch gentle and his smile genuine. “The thought of you keeping a photo of me in a locket… is incredibly endearing, my sun. I dare say I may like to keep a picture of you on me as well.”

“I’d like you to be near my heart always, so that I can feel your presence… especially when you’re on these dangerous missions,” she explains, lifting her hand to his cheek. “You have no idea how much I am going to worry about you.” 

“Trust me, I know your worry is genuine,” he acknowledges plainly. “And I can’t promise you that I’ll be completely safe - not with the nature of my work. But I will always do my best to come back to you in one piece. Carrying  your image with me will be a constant, heartening reminder of what I’m fighting for.”

“I just wish your work was not so dangerous. I wish… you had a choice.” She looks down for a moment, her eyelashes fluttering, before glancing back up at him again. “Sweetheart… we need to get you out of there.”

“I know, but it just isn’t that simple,” he replies, threading his fingers in hers. “The DMLE isn’t exactly keen on letting me walk away. I have a contract to honor, and they have leverage over me… because of my past.”

Kate nods solemnly. “But then… What can we do? How can we end this contract? There must be a way out that doesn’t involve you going back to Azkaban.”

“There are some possibilities,” he says quietly. “But none of them are pleasant. I don’t want to worry you any more than you already are. Just know… I’m exploring every avenue to earn my freedom.”

Staring at nothing in particular, she is silent for several moments. “I trust you, Bash. I know you’ll figure out a solution. The Kelpies must be brought to justice, and I am confident you’ll be the one to do it. You’re… cunning, resourceful, and determined - and I love you for it. You’ll succeed - I just know it.”

“I won’t lie to you, darling. It’s going to be a tough fight. But knowing of your unwavering support and faith in me gives me strength. I won’t give up. Our future together is too important.” 

“Is there anything I could do?” she genuinely inquires.

Sebastian’s heart swells with gratitude at her offer, but his countenance turns serious as he considers her question. “It’s important to me that you stay safe, first and foremost. Really, the most helpful thing you could do, Kate, is simply be here for me, provide a safe haven where I can feel comfort and solace. That alone means more to me than you can fathom.”

“Right,” she responds, looking aside and biting her lip. “I can do that. I just wish I could do more. I would do anything to help you, Seb. Truly.”

Sebastian gently takes hold of her chin, turning her face towards him once more. He leans in to press a gentle kiss to her lips. “Darling, you do more for me than you realize. You give me strength and resolve and hope. And I know you would do anything for me… That’s why I have to protect you.”

Kate leans in and kisses him again, lingering. “I want to protect you, too. You’re everything to me, my moon. It just isn’t fair - I wish I could free-”

She suddenly sits up, hearing a loud tapping coming from the kitchen. “Oh - it must be an owl with a letter.”

Sebastian lets out a small sigh, carefully untangling himself from her embrace. “Stay here, love. I’ll go check it out.”

He makes his way to the kitchen, where, indeed, an owl is perched just outside the window, hooting. After opening the window, he unties the letter from its foot and watches it fly away. The envelope is addressed to Kate. When he flips it over, a flicker of recognition comes across his face as he notices the seal of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

[writingforstraykids]

Addicted to you - Chp. 9

Pairing: Minlix | Minchan (mention of Changlix)

Word Count: 4252

Summary: Felix decides to try a new way to cheer Minho up for a bit, falling back into old patterns with him. Chan walks in on them and at first, Minho doesn't care...until he does.

Warnings/Tags: smut, sub!felix, switch!minho, friends with benefits, panic attack, emotional hurt/comfort

A/N: This for everyone who wished to see a little more of Minlix. I hope you like it~🌙

Chp. 8 | Chp. 10

How am I supposed to go out and find love again? Only know what it is 'Cause you showed me it exists How am I supposed to feel all the things that we felt But with somebody else? Knowing you exist Knowing you exist - Alexander Stewart

The following week, the atmosphere turned frosty whenever Chan and Minho were in the same room. Whilst Chan pretended nothing had happened and went on like before, Minho simply ignored him. To everyone else, Minho acted as normal, but Chan got the cold shoulder. The gap forming between their two hyungs worried the rest with every passing day. Especially when Minho started skipping group dinners, locked himself up in his room, or overstayed his welcome after dance practice. He refused to practice the new dance with Chan pressed up against him, and with every passing day, his appearance looked worse. 

During interviews, he stayed quiet, and looking at the footage, everyone could tell he was feeling like  shit, including the fans. When asked about the most important person within the team, Minho honestly answered Felix and Jisung since he didn't know what he'd do without them at the moment. Chan said Minho, saying he owed him a lot and hoped they'd always find each other no matter what. This caused Minho to stand up during the midst of the interview, stumbling over Seungmin's feet with tears in his eyes. Their management forced him back only shortly after, and for the rest of the interview, he kept his head hung low, hot tears threatening to spill down his cheeks after removing his microphone. He was shaking, and neither Felix’s hand on his back nor Jisung taking his hand calmed him. The others glanced at him worriedly occasionally, and Chan tried his best not to look, seeming anxious. The video later got him into serious trouble with staff and raised even more questions among fans. 

Felix and Jisung had the most insight into what was going on since they were the only ones Minho really talked to. They knew that he was slowly destroying his knee by practicing harder and even more than before instead of resting. They knew that he had skipped meals quite often by this point. They were there to hold his hand before interviews or in situations when Minho had no choice but to deal with Chan. They ensured he got something to eat from time to time, held him when he felt sad, and helped him out when his body would shut down after a particularly long day.

Felix and Jisung took turns staying with him at night, knowing this was the only way Minho was able to sleep now. They didn't know how to make him feel better because deep down, what Minho needed was Chan, the one he’d been avoiding like the plague. It was a habit he formed a long while ago, to distance himself from anyone or anything that felt unsafe.

But one evening, Felix decided to try something new, wondering if it would help make Minho forget his pain, even if it was just for a few hours. They were sitting on the broad window sill in Felix’s room, leaning against opposite walls, facing each other. Minho was staring out into the night, anxiously fidgeting with the fabric of his sweater. 

“Min?” Felix spoke up gently, and the older one turned to look at him. “What are you thinking about?”

Minho shrugged his shoulders. “Everything and nothing at once,” he told him, rubbing his neck. “I’m starting to have serious doubts about Chan and me staying.”

“What?” he asked, written in his expression.

“I feel like I need a break from all of this. I’m not saying I want to quit, but some distance might be better than trying to avoid something I live in the same house with,” he sighed, defeated. Felix tilted his head at him.

“You think you’ll love him any less once you’re back? Your heart won’t break seeing him again?” he asked gently. They both knew it wasn’t possible, and Minho couldn’t bring himself to say it even if his was. 

“I…I just want to feel whole again, Lix. I can’t go on like this,” he told him and hugged himself. “It was alright before because there was nothing to miss…but I miss what we had so much. I never thought I’d feel so lonely and-,” he trailed off as Felix scooted closer, cupping his face with one hand. “What are you doing?” he whispered. Felix caressed his cheek and leaned in close. Minho's eyes widened as their lips brushed together. "Felix, you have a boyfriend." 

"He knows, he’s fine with it," Felix told him quietly, and Minho's resistance crumbled slightly, but he was still on alert. "Relax, I got you, remember?" 

Minho nodded, eyes fluttering close as their lips met. He melted into the familiar feeling and let Felix take the lead. He missed being held and kissed like that. He missed having someone close, showing him his worth with every passing day. Sometimes he really fucking missed Felix. 

Felix pulled him onto his lap, hands tracing down his back. His heart hurt at how desperately Minho kissed him. The way he gripped his shirt, pressing himself as close as he could to feel something again. Felix leaned back against the wall and smiled into the kiss as Minho moved to cup his face in his hands. His hand slipped beneath his shirt, gently gliding up Minho's spine and resting between his shoulder blades. "Gosh, sometimes I really miss you," Felix mumbled against his lips. 

Minho stopped in his movements and blinked at him. "You do?" he asked quietly. 

"You were my first for so many things," Felix gently brushed back his hair and nodded. "You meant a lot to me, you know." 

"Not enough, though," Minho said, and Felix hummed softly. 

"Did I?" he asked, and Minho's eyes flickered guiltily. 

"No, not like that," he then admitted, and Felix nodded. 

"We both knew it would end sooner or later," he said, caressing his cheek. Minho leaned into the gentle touch and inhaled shakily. "And that's okay because we were open with each other about it." 

"I miss you too sometimes," he told him honestly before covering his hand with his own. "I felt a different kind of safety with you." 

Felix searched his eyes as if he was trying to memorize every little detail he could. "I think I didn't tell you how beautiful you are often enough."

"Yongbokie," Minho said softly, eyes radiating nothing but warmth. 

"I mean it. You're beautiful," he told him and connected their lips. "Loving," he continued before kissing him again. "And too kind for this world," he added before pressing their lips together hard and full of desperation. Minho made a soft sound at the impact, and Felix grabbed his hips, leaning forward and pushing him onto his back. 

Minho shortly searched his eyes, wondering how far they'd go. Felix didn't seem to think much of it, hovering over him and chasing his lips hungrily. Minho let him, spreading his legs to make room for him as Felix almost fell off the window sill, bracing himself next to his head. Felix giggled softly and rolled his eyes at himself. Minho reached out for him, thumb brushing over his lower lip. "God, I lo-," he stopped, closing his eyes and remembering that this wasn't like what he thought he had with Chan. 

"You can say it, Minho. I know how you mean it," Felix told him, and Minho shook his head. "I love you, Min." 

Minho looked up at him with teary eyes. "I love you too, Lixie." 

Felix smiled gently, eyes sparkling with joy. He went back to kissing him, and the way Minho gripped his hair and arched up against him told him everything he needed to know. Deep down, Minho longed for more, longed to be close to him like they had been long ago. Felix knew better than to deny that he was feeling the same way. He reached down, smoothly opening the strings of Minho's sweatpants before palming him and rubbing his hand between his legs. Surprised, Minho gasped against his lips, unable to stop himself from bucking up into his touch. Felix slipped his hand into his pants, wrapping it around his dick, and stroked him experimentally. Minho moaned sweetly and gripped his hair tightly. 

"Felix," he breathed out. 

"I'm here," he said gently. 

"You don't have to -," he broke off as Felix continued his movement. 

"I want to," he promised, grabbing Minho's chin with his free hand. "Trust me," he told him and grabbed the bottle of lube stored in the drawer of his bedside table. He poured some onto his hand before reaching back into his pants. 

Minho did trust him, and his eyes fluttered close as he allowed himself to enjoy this. He pulled Felix back into a kiss, trying to stifle his moans as he rolled his hips. Felix leaned down, kissing his neck and leaving soft bites down from his ear to his collarbone. "Mark me up," Minho breathed out, desperate to feel something. 

"Are you sure?" Felix asked gently, nose still buried in his neck. 

"Please," he said quietly. 

Felix bit down below his ear in response, softly licking over the bite. He started sucking on his skin, moaning deliciously against his neck. 

Minho moaned out loud, and the way Felix's body responded reminded him of how much he had enjoyed him being vocal. "Fuck, Min," he moaned as Minho pulled at his hair and bit down harshly. 

Minho's eyes rolled back at the pleasurable pain, and he slammed his hand against the window, trying to brace himself somehow as Felix picked up the pace. His head fell back with a loud moan of Felix's name, making the younger one hum satisfied. 

Felix barely noticed the door to his room opening, lips attached to Minho's neck and being pressed against his skin by him. He pulled a beautiful moan from his lips, and glanced over at the door at the intruder. He realized it was Chan staring at them in pure shock. Felix locked eyes with him but didn't stop, not wanting Minho to notice. He knew Min would feel guilty, and in his eyes, there was absolutely no reason for it. 

"Fuck, don't stop. Please don't sto-," Minho moaned out, and Felix didn't intend to. His eyes were squeezed shut, chasing his high and indulging the weight of Felix's body on his. 

"I got you. You're doing so good, babe," Felix mumbled against his skin. 

He didn't expect him to use that old pet name for him. Minho arched up against him, pulling at his hair with a groan before tensing up and spilling into his pants. A broken moan of his name left his lips, and Minho pulled him up and into a needy kiss, panting against his lips. Felix kissed back fiercely, and Chan was gone the next time he looked up. Minho caught his breath before giggling softly and rubbing his face. "I can't believe you just did that in front of the fucking window." 

Felix smirked and planted a tiny kiss on his nose. "You're so pretty," he told him adoringly, and Minho blushed a little. 

"Stop it. I’ve been a mess lately," he chuckled. 

"I mean it," he assured him. 

Minho kissed Felix's lips softly, making the younger one moan. His hands traveled down his back and squeezed his bum. Felix melted against him with a soft groan and looked at him, eyes filled with need. "You want to do this properly for once?" 

Felix nodded quickly before frowning. "I uhm…I never..." 

"Me neither, but I'm fine with it," he assured him, and Felix jumped up quickly, pulling him with him to his bed. 

"Do you mind doing this without a condom?" he asked. 

"Do you?" he gave back, and they nodded in agreement. "But I have to clean up first. You made a mess of me." 

"Wait here," Felix giggled. 

Not much later, Minho was on his back, and Felix was straddling his lap. Their clothes were scattered across the floor, and Felix had pulled the curtains closed, turning on the lights instead. Felix leaned down, kissing him passionately as Minho's hands traveled down his body. He reached out for the bottle of lube. "May I?" he asked. 

"Please," Felix nodded and buried his face in Minho's neck as he started preparing him. "Oh fuck," he breathed out as Minho opened him up one finger at a time. Felix took deep breaths and relaxed as he adjusted to the amazing feeling. Soon enough, Minho found himself four fingers in and Felix was breathless. "I forgot how skilled you are with your fingers- a-ah," he broke off with a moan as Minho's fingers brushed against his prostate. 

Minho smirked and buried his hand in his hair, pulling him back and making him look in his eyes. "Huh, I forgot how easy you fall apart in my hands," he said and grinned succeedingly as Felix shivered above him, eyes rolling back as he poked at his prostate again. 

Not much later, Felix was riding him, slowly working out a rhythm that felt good for both of them. Felix stopped suddenly and closed his eyes before shaking his head. 

"What's wrong?" Minho asked gently and swallowed at the guilt clouded in his eyes. Did he regret it already? 

"Chan saw," he whispered. 

"What?" he asked, confused. 

"He just walked in suddenly and stood in the doorway right as you…Min, I'm sorry, I should've told you," he said nervously. 

Minho blinked, comprehending the information just shared, before shaking his head. "I don't care," he said and laughed weakly. "I actually don't care if he saw us or not." 

"Don't you think he'll be pissed?" he asked. 

"Let him be," he nodded. "I'm not his boyfriend, I never was. He has no right claiming me as his own, Felix. I can do whatever I want," he said, and for the first time, he actually believed it. "I've been patient for long enough, and he never made a move. Right now, he fucking lost me." 

Felix stared at him for a long moment. "That's the first time you’ve said that and I actually believe you." 

"It's the first time I believe it myself," he said, grabbing his hips. Felix squeaked, surprised as Minho flipped them over, hovering over him now. "And right now, I really don't care about him either. I have you here." 

Felix's lips parted a little. "Don't you think we would've been amazing together in another life?" 

Minho smiled gently. "Perhaps," he nodded and cupped his face. "I'll always be here; however you need me. You know that, right?" 

"I know," he nodded. "The same thing goes for you Min. Now move before I really lose my mind," he giggled and lifted his head up to meet his lips. 

Minho let him as he pulled out a little and thrust right back in. He worked out a rhythm that drew sweet moans and deep groans from Felix's throat. His hands found Felix's, and he pinned them down next to his head, fingers intertwining. Felix was chasing his lips whenever he pulled away to catch his breath, and Minho remembered how needy for physical reassurance he could get. Minho was moving slowly and gently, drawing the moment out as long as he could. Their kisses grew more passionate with every passing minute, and Felix wrapped his legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper. 

Felix was a little overwhelmed right now. It wasn't like Changbin and Hyunjin weren't loving or gentle with him. He and Changbin didn't have sex often due to their busy schedules, which always included fleeting moments of desperate passion. Hyunjin loved to tease and help Felix explore what he liked and what he didn't. But Minho…Minho was making love to him. He'd always been gentle and caring and knew when to push which button. Today was no different, still. How he moved on top of him, held his hands, and kissed him with so much love felt different. 

Minho met his eyes, and his heart skipped a beat at the expression in Felix's bright eyes. A deep longing mixed up with pure love and adoration stole his breath for a moment. "My beautiful sunshine," he whispered, and tears brimmed Felix's eyes. Minho gently caressed his cheek. "Are you okay?" 

"That's the first time you called me yours," he whispered, not trusting his voice right now. 

"Oh, I…I'm sorry," Minho stammered but relaxed as Felix chuckled. 

"This might be selfish, but I don't mind Chan being an asshole if this is what I get for it," he said, and Minho couldn't help but laugh. 

"You're an idiot," he said fondly before kissing him again and thrusting in deep and slow, hitting every sweet spot just right. 

Felix shivered beneath him, his now free hand shooting up into his hair. He moaned needily into the kiss, and after a few more thrusts, he felt his stomach flip. "Min, I'm close," he told him. 

"Go on, I got you," he told him, and Felix smashed their lips together before pulling away with a broken moan of his name. Minho watched his face as he stumbled over the edge, admiring how effortlessly beautiful he was. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if that was what Chan thought about him. He chased his own high, moaning sweetly as Felix pulled him in close and clenched around him. It didn’t take long for him to stumble over the edge and fill him up.

“God, you’re amazing, baby,” he said, and Minho’s throat tightened.

“You too,” he whispered, trying not to think of Chan saying those exact same words so often before. 

Later, when Felix was asleep next to him, Minho still couldn’t sleep. He was thinking about the time he had shared with Felix in the past and today. He wondered if this had been a mistake or if he was actually alright with it. And somehow, he couldn’t stop thinking about Chan and the fact he saw them. Minho closed his eyes and felt his throat tightening, wondering if he just destroyed the mere chance of them forgiving each other and working this out. Before he knew it, he was up on his feet and leaving the room.

Minho closed the door quietly and stumbled down the hallway to his room. Tears brimmed his eyes, and he couldn't see clearly anymore. A sharp pain shot through his chest, and his throat tightened painfully. He clutched his chest, unable to breathe, and fumbled the door open, stumbling inside. Minho grabbed the desk in front of him tightly and leaned forward with a groan before realizing in panic that this wasn't where his damn desk was located. Only Chan had it this close to the door. How the hell had he walked into the opposite direction? "Fuck, no," he pressed out, frustrated, and straightened up, bracing himself on the wall to find his way back outside. Someone pulled him back, and Minho found himself pressed against Chan's chest, his arms wrapped around him from behind. "No," he whined. 

"Shh, Min, you'll wake everyone up going outside like that," he said gently and closed his door again. 

Minho was breathing heavily, still feeling like the air wouldn't reach his lungs. "I can't breathe," he said panicked. "Chan, I can't -." 

Chan held him in his arms and made Minho lie down on his bed, climbing on top of him. Minho squirmed beneath him, protesting against it and hitting him forcefully against the chest. 

"What the fuck?!" Minho shouted at him, and Chan quickly covered his mouth, which only fed his panic. He started kicking, and Chan groaned at the impact on his body. 

"Fucks sake, Minho I'm trying to help!" he snapped at him, and Minho stopped kicking. He carefully pulled his hand off his mouth and swallowed hard at the tears running down his face. "It’s okay, you’re okay Min" he said gently, resting his hands next to his head. "I'll lie down on you now, okay?" 

Minho pressed his lips together tightly before nodding. Now, he understood what Chan was trying to do. Minho needed to be held down, feel some weight on top of him to feel grounded again when he was too far gone already, and Chan was the only one who knew about it. He exhaled softly as Chan put his full weight on him, making himself heavier than he was. 

Chan felt his heart race against his chest and very gently fondled his knuckles. "Take deep breaths, Min, you can do it," he encouraged him. 

Minho tried his best and felt his chest opening up slowly again. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore how good it felt to have Chan so close again. He tried to ignore his familiar, comforting scent and warmth. He tried to ignore the way Chan's hands felt in his, his hair tickling his neck and his heartbeat against his chest. But he failed miserably. "Please get off me," he whispered more so to himself than Chan. When Chan didn't react immediately, he squirmed. He started pushing again as hot tears made their way down his cheeks. 

"Hey, hey, relax," he told him and moaned softly as Minho's hand hit his chest again, pushing him off. "Minho, please," he told him firmly, already on his way to give him space. 

Minho sat up, panting, and stared at him before burying his face in his hands, sobbing quietly. "I'm so sorry," he whimpered. 

"Don't be," he told him gently and sat down in front of him. "You panicked, it's okay." 

Minho shook his head firmly. "That's not what I meant," he said, looking up with pained eyes. "I…I just had sex with Felix." 

Chan nodded, already knowing of it. "Him giving you a handjob can hardly be-."

"No, Chan, I just…I just came inside of him," he said, and Chan's face fell. "We did have sex." 

Chan audibly swallowed and closed his eyes briefly. "Okay," he whispered. 

"Okay?!" Minho asked in shock. 

"I'm not mad at you," he told him, and Minho's eyes filled with tears again. "Un-Unless, that's what you want?" he asked anxiously, not knowing what was going on in his head. 

"I said I wouldn't care about what you'd think," he said and closed his eyes, shaking his head. "I was never officially yours in the first place, so why would I keep on pretending I was?" Chan swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. "And it's true, I never was your boyfriend…but I still care about you," he said and sucked in a sharp breath. 

"Why Felix?" Chan asked quietly. "I thought you were done being the second choice for him." 

"You think he's my first choice?" he asked sadly, and Chan's eyes clouded with pain. "Felix always felt safe, no matter what, that's why. We knew what we were getting into, and that was fine." 

"Sounds complicated," he said. 

"Why do you even care?" Minho asked tiredly. "How am I any different from your one-night stands?" 

"What?" he asked, frowning. "Min, I fucking lo-," he stopped himself abruptly and Minho nodded. 

"You can't even say it now that it's real, can you?" he asked quietly, and Chan contorted his face. "It used to be one of the first things you said to me every damn morning for years now. You're so scared of the consequences that you’ll deny everything. You can't even allow yourself to tell me you love me." 

"I'm the leader of this group, I can't afford to get kicked out because of some dating amongst members drama," he said firmly. 

"We were never dating, though, were we? You weren't ready to label our relationship, and I should've stopped it all months ago," Minho said and swallowed hard. "Don't act like I said something wrong. We've never been a couple. You never called me your boyfriend. How is that any different from what Felix and I just did?" 

"That's not fair," Chan shook his head. 

"Calling me all those things and acting like I forced you into a situationship is not fair. Denying almost a year of shared intimacy isn't fair. Promising me to fight for us but not being brave enough to say those three little words isn't fair," he told him and saw Chan's firm expression falter. 

"Min," he tried softly. 

"Look, we’ve been having fun. And the fun has been amazing…but I want more. I want to be close to you in every single way, not just in bed or when we’re alone. You have to figure out what you want and quickly because I won’t wait around much longer Chan,” he told him quietly. "But anyways, I'm sorry for bursting in like that, I didn't know where I was going and-." He tried to change the subject, but his eyes widened as Chan suddenly moved forward and kissed him hard on the mouth. He shoved him off and panted softly. "What are you doing?" he whispered. 

"That's what I want," he said, pointing at him. "I want you, Min." 

"I got that," he nodded. "But that's not enough, not like that." 

"Please, give me a chance to explain. We can talk about this," he pleaded. 

"Not tonight, alright?" he asked, and Chan nodded reluctantly. Minho got up and looked at him for another moment. "Good night, Chan. Thanks for helping me out."

"Of course," Chan nodded and watched him leave.

Minho stood still in the hallway for a moment, fingertips pressed against his lips. What the hell was he doing? 

Chp. 8 | Chp. 10

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/ removed from the taglist)

@soullostinspaceandtime @mal-lunar-28 @malfoygalaxies @brownieloved @rebecca-johnson-28 @euphoric-univers @hyunniebunni

[milkemim]

Day 14: Outdoor Lights

im late again eee

WC: 842

Link to all chapters

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Today is December 14th. Russia has put four people to work and enslaved them to make his front yard look pretty and festive. These people were Estonia, Lithuania, Latvia and [Name]. Not only did they have to decorate, they also had to shovel the snow and ice off to make it look neater. Thankfully that part was already done, even if it took a while.

Latvia and [Name] had temporarily gone inside to find the lights from the storage. Russia had a lot of stuff and other trinkets, and all the boxes looked pretty much the same, so it was harder than anticipated, but they did eventually find it. They quickly ran back outside to avoid getting a lecture from their mean host.

“We found it, guys!” Latvia says, running over to Estonia and Lithuania, who had been anxiously waiting and planning out where to hang the lights and in what order. He puts the cardboard box down on the ground and quickly starts to put his gloves and hat on to avoid the freezing cold.

“Finally! You were gone for forever, we thought Russia got to you…” Lithuania worries and opens the box, to see a horrifying, but mostly just annoying, truth. “It’s all tangled…” he sighs.

“Best get to work!” [Name] smiles cheerfully and sits down on the snow.

“How can you be so relaxed about this…?” Estonia quietly wonders.

“Because they don’t have to worry about being torn to pieces for taking too long,” Latvia says and glares at [Name], “It’s unfair! Unfair!”

“Don’t be so loud or big, bad Russia will get you, kid~” [Name] ruffles Latvia’s head over the hat, making it go over his eyes.

“Eek!” He quickly adjusts it and pulls a tangled mess of cords.

Lithuania sighs and sits down as well, giving [Name] a look, “Don’t scare him,” He says.

All four begin to try to efficiently untangle all the cords.

“I really hope we get this done before dark…” Estonia whimpers.

“Me too…”

“Me too.”

“Me too.”

It takes a little while, trying not to break the delicate cords from all the pulling. It was also an extremely irritating task to the mitten-wearing half of the group, but eventually they got it all done.

“Me and Estonia will handle making sure the bulbs work as supposed to, so you two can hang them up however you were planning to.” [Name] says to Lithuania and Latvia, standing up and pulling Estonia with them.

“Okay, good luck.” Lithuania smiles at them and starts telling the plan he had made with Estonia to Latvia. “I hope it will be good enough for Mr. Russia…”

Estonia and [Name] walk over to where they had planned to set up all the cables. “So, how old are these lights?” [Name] asks.

“I don’t know… Too old. Every year they’re in worse and worse condition, but Mr. Russia refuses to get new ones as long as they still look fine.” Estonia answers.

“Maybe you just need to persuade him a little more?”

“No thank you.”

The two connect everything and prepare to turn it on. “Now we just have to hope neither Latvia or Lithuania get electrocuted.” [Name] says, ready to switch the power on.

“Maybe we should yell out a warning first?” Estonia looks at them, a little worried.

“Too late!” They press on the switch, watching as it all lights up. Well, most of it lights up. The two walk over to get a better look.

“You guys could’ve given a little warning first! That was scary.” Lithuania complains to the two.

“Estonia’s fault.” [Name] points to Estonia.

“Hey, what??” Estonia looks at them.

“Lithuania! Come help me already!” Latvia cries out, struggling with the cable that he was trying to put in its place.

“Ah! I completely forgot, sorry!” He runs over and helps him set it up.

Estonia and [Name] also help with the rest of the preparations of setting the lights up. It didn’t take long with four people on the case.

“Hmm… All we need to do is replace the lightbulbs that didn’t light up, right? Easy.” [Name] says.

“Yes, but we’ll need to go buy some.”

“Wow! It’s beautiful, I love it!” A new voice makes everyone flinch and turn to it. Russia was here!

“M-Mr. Russia! It’s almost done, we promise!” Lithuania stutters.

“Good job, everyone,” Russia smiles and ignores him, “I think you all deserve a treat for your hard work. Let’s all go inside and eat something good and warm together. Oh, and thank you for helping Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia out, [Name].” He pulls them into a hug, which they reciprocate.

“It was no problem! Thanks for having me. Do I get to join you for dinner as well?” They smile.

“Of course.”

And so, the day came to a close. Russia had insisted on keeping the lights like they were now, since he said he was going to buy new ones for next year and would like to use all the leftover light from the current lights.

[princessdreamie]

Divorced Billionaire Heiresses part 33

A long time not much is going on bc the grown ups have a ton of drama as usual.

Dont blame me, i got so used to the trash of the normal story that i know that things like that happen more often that we would like. And i try to avoid to write it too fanfic like. But we all can agree that most 'events' are either filler or just skippable eitherway. Unless the story parts involve your fav characters or has a story arc that is (somewhat) acceptable. In any case, you can just pretend to skip a story line or imagine something 4 yourselves. Back to the show

The wedding finally comes around and, while not as extravagant & special as E & S's was back then, it was still a nice ceremony.

Co was very happy with her orders she received from Me and Me was happy that her har work finally paid off. Fa knew to have faith in his GF so it didnt come as a surprise to him.

His boss let him attend the wedding for publicity, knowing that he will get some attention for his looks alone.

Me was not so keen about their reasons but she had not much to say in that matter.

Nonetheless, the couple enjoyed the little alone time they got b4 some bigshots offered them movie role or two.

As expected, J, K & Na arrived as guests alone. N and the rest stayed home since they have other things need taking care of. The aforementioned thing we dont care about, as a reminder.

Na was in awe seening the wedding reception and all the well dressed guests around them.

At first she worried thaat there would be reporters in the mids but C assures her that this was a private event. The only ppl she would need to be worried about are E & Se.

Once asked why that was the case, he elaborated that both had a rough ride to this place.

The wedding was held at a farm house in the country. That place had a significant place in the bride's heart so they of course they would get married here.

Problem was that E didnt like the country site that much, & Se had to wake up super early to get ready for the wedding. So thr young boy was understandable cranky.

They were not allowed to use the copter either, no matter how many times they asked the ppl living around the place.

Reason being that those aircrafts would scare their livestock. So there are quite a few farms around so he was outnumbered by a lot. Not to mention stubborn.

S went already ahead with Co to help her with the dress.

J sat on one of the tables while her husband does under the crowed and makes new connections.

Na goes back to her mom, who is already on her last nerve with K's behavior. Na talks to her mom to keep her mind of things.

Which works for the most part.

2 hours later

The guests finally took their seats as the frolm stood at the altar, waiting anxiously for his future wive.

E, who (begrudgingly) was taking the role as his best man, told him to stop fidgeting b4 he does.

Mt was grateful that his boss agreed to be part of the wedding but he wished that he would stop acting like one at his special day.

Co came around and everyone was astounded by how pretty she looked. The accessories and the dress complement her very well.

Her elderly father (Derek, De for short) took her down the aisle with a smile on his face.

He knew that Co & Mt were a great match. Much more than the previous guy could have been. So it wasn't hard to get his blessing, although the mother (Helena, H for short) was hesitant for her child's sake.

Still she was glad that Mt was a honest man, that was enough for her at least.

Once Co & Mt finally stood next to eachother the priest, an old friend of H's, started the ceremony.

Everything was fine until someone crashed the wedding.

[nether-twins]

Though the memory of what happened the last time the paid a visit to the junkyard was still fresh in both of their minds, the twins couldn't avoid the place forever. They were running low on supplies for their little business and since neither of them felt like spending thousands upon thousands of bolts on new spare parts from the store then, well, they had no other choice but to return to the place where Vendra fell for Nefarious' prank.

Still, though, as they began to make their way into the place, the small Nether didn't dare to leave her brother's side- yet. She floated close to one of his massive arms and looked around anxiously while the other was as calm as could be.

"See, I told you nothing bad would happen this time, sis. We're okay. That old bot haven't done anything to the place since we last were here. There's nothing for you to worry about."

"Riiiiight... nothing to worry about." Though it did little to help her nerves. It still felt like something would happen, but she didn't know how or when. "I should, um, probably head to another part of the junkyard to see if I can find anything useful. Orvus knows we need it."

So, even though a part of her brain was screaming at her not to do it, Vendra finally decided to leave her brother's side so she could cover more ground. Flying straight towards what looked like a completely normal, and quite nice looking, full-length mirror while Neftin headed towards a pile filled to the brim broken parts from machines. The small Nether hadn't had time to look herself in the mirror in the morning since they had been in such a rush to get out, so she thought it wouldn't hurt to take quick look before starting the search. Now if she could juuuuust get close enough to it...

"GYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

Suddenly, without any warning being given, a loud, high pitched, and absolutely gut wrenching scream could be heard from none other than Vendra herself in the junkyard before her voice was suddenly cut off. Silenced by whatever had made her scream in the first place.

"VENDRA?!!?" Neftin wasted not ime to get up as soon as he heard his sister's scream, completely forgetting about the job he was supposed to be doing. He had to run as fast as his legs allowed him to to see what had happened. And, um... he didn't know what he had expected, but it definitely wasn't whatever this was. Vendra was standing as still as a statue in front of some kind of mirror, arms raised at her side, and covered in neon green goo laced with glitter. Oh! And there was a note stuck to her face.

"Huh, what's this?" Reaching a hand out, the giant began to slowly peel off the note from Vendra's face. It took a bit of effort since it had gotten stuck pretty good, but he got it off eventually- and without ruining it! It was a small victory but he didn't get the chance to feel happy about it for too long once he read what was written in the blasted thing. "Oh he really isjust asking for trouble now... that damn old robot."

NEFARIOUS! The old bot had done it again, setting up a trap in the junkyard for his sister to walk into. Speaking of her...

"Hey, sis...? You... um... okay...?" Neftin used his free hand to try and wipe away the goo from Vendra's face and almost immediately regretted doing it once her eyes were visible again. Her eyes... they were burning with nothing fury in them. The giant couldn't tell what was going through his sister's mind at the moment, but it surely wasn't anything good. "I'm just gonna head over to the entrance and send our parole officer a quick message. He should, um, be able to drive you back to our apartment so you can take care of... that."

And he made sure to do it as soon as he was done explaining his little plan. Though he knew for sure that his sister would never hurt him on purpose, Neftin did not feel safe around Vendra. Not when she was this angry.

@nether-twins

This wasn't just a prank—it was revenge. His masterful response to weeks of glitter bombs, horrifying projections, infuriating letters, and countless other indignities. So, Vendra wanted to make a fool of him, did she?! Well, two could play at that game!

The robot chuckled with anticipation at the thought of what he'd set up, imagining the chaos Vendra was about to walk into...

While the Prog twins had been out, Nefarious had crept into their junkyard to set up his scheme. And in his incredibly unhumble opinion, he had outdone himself!

The setup was deceptively simple. A full-length mirror pulled from the scrap heap was positioned in a place where it would eventually be noticed. But hidden within its frame was a sensor, programmed to trigger the moment Vendra leaned in to inspect her reflection.

But she wouldn't see herself for long~

Instead, a holographic caricature would be projected on the mirror's surface, complete with exaggerated features, googly eyes, and a clown nose to top it all off. A grating laugh track would blare on loop from a hidden speaker nearby, but the final touch? A concealed device nearby, aimed to release a huge torrent of neon green slime directly at her. The goo was laced with glitter, of course.

Finally, a card would launch toward her, and the message read:

"I figured you'd appreciate this, since you like glitter so much!! HAPPY NEW YEAR, LOSER!!!! MY RESOLUTION IS TO MAKE YOU AS MISERABLE AS POSSIBLE!!!! Worst Wishes, Dr. Nefarious. P.S. TOUCH MY DESK AGAIN AND I SWEAR I'LL TURN YOUR ATOMS INSIDE OUT!!!! I'M NOT PLAYING AROUND HERE!!!!"

Oh yes, this time, vengeance would be his.

[captainkingsley]

Mollymauk knows it's a long shot. Hell, it's probably a shorter shot to throw his scimitars to Tal'dorei — but he knows he'll never forgive himself if he doesn't ask. There will always be a part of him that will nag at the back of his thoughts if he doesn't say something.

(And Yasha will nag him, too. Which is probably worse, because he can't disappoint Yasha.)

So he breathes deep, runs his hands over his hair, and stares at the mirror for just a moment longer. 

"Alright, Tealeaf. You can do this. You've only been friends through near apocalyptic catastrophe — this won't affect you or your friendship if he says no." He says, now gripping the edge of the sink. It's a rather nice looking sink, actually, but that's to be expected in Rexxentrum. Not the basins or tubs of smaller towns, but proper water service running through the city, and yes, he knows he's stalling thinking of running water versus still basins of water, but he's itchy with anxiety.

Mollymauk breathes deep, pulling his coat on once more — not the old coat, that had been ripped and turned into a blanket by Yasha, since she knew just how important it was to him — and he inspects himself once more. 

He's grown. His hair has grown out, closer to how he'd had it before he'd met the Nein. He's added a couple more tattoos, one visible from the open collar of his new, silky blue shirt, a peek of vibrant lines of a tree branch extending up from his ribcage and onto his pectoral muscle opposite the peacock. Some of it seems to glitter in the light thanks to Orly's handiwork. Molly thinks it looks rather nice with the rest of his ink, and he hopes everyone else does, too.

One person in particular. 

He fiddles with his sleeves, picks at his fingernails for a moment before turning with a new determination to the door. 

Say it now while you've got the chance, he tells himself. 

The rest of the Nein are beginning to head up to the room where Caleb has set up the tower for the night. The last few remaining are Yasha, Veth, and Caleb — Yasha meets Molly's eyes and seems to read him immediately, giving him the shortest smile and a nod of encouragement before she begins to head up.

"Veth, you should come with me," Yasha says, "I have something to show you."

Oh, Moonweaver bless you, Yasha, Molly thinks. 

Veth asks what it is Yasha wants, but Yasha simply stammers through some excuses as she encourages Veth to follow. Once they've both disappeared up the stairs, Molly finds his pulse quickening. 

It's been quite some time traveling together. Caleb looks tired, but he also looks accomplished, happy, healthier than he had in the beginning. Molly finds that the most attractive part of him, these days, that he looks like he's happy with himself. Confidence, newfound steadiness in himself. 

He thinks back to the things they've done, the risks they've taken for each other. How many fights had turned to Mollymauk diving in front of Caleb to take a hit, to defend him from something that would easily cut through Caleb's coat, and in turn his body?

Caleb seems to be reading Mollymauk in return, but what he's thinking, Molly can't tell. He's too scared to imagine what he's thinking of. 

So instead he avoids eye contact, rubbing the back of his neck. 

"It's been a journey," Molly says, watching as Caleb collects his things from the table. 

"It has." Caleb says, sounding level and noncommittal. "We've come a long way from hunting demon toads."

"Devil toads," Molly corrects, and he watches the corner of Caleb's lips turn upward in a smile. 

"Devil toads. Yes." Caleb says. "You seem like you have a question?"

"I… I do, actually, yes." Mollymauk says. He rubs his hands together anxiously, thinking for a moment that if he were a cricket he would be the noisiest one alive, swiped up by a predatory bird faster than he can comprehend. 

But he's just a tiefling in a tavern with a good friend, hoping not to embarrass himself. 

"I was actually wondering… Now that we're, you know, some of us are splitting ways, some are going with each other," he thinks of Beau and Yasha. "I was wondering where you plan to end up?"

Caleb hums. 

"I was thinking just outside of the city," Caleb says. "Any particular reason to ask?"

"Well," Molly says, drawing the word out. "You know, I was with the circus, and that's… not an option any longer. And while sure, sure, Lucien had family I could track down, it seems a bit rude to pursue that, gods only know if they'd want anything to do with me, so…"

Caleb says nothing. He only stares at Mollymauk with a raised brow. 

"... And Yasha and Beau are definitely going to have their own thing going on, so I was thinking maybe I could, you know, stick around town, find a spot around here, and maybe…"

Gods, when did his palms get so sweaty?

Is he shaking?

Why is asking this so much harder than propositioning a stranger?

(They've only risked their lives for each other, been through hell and back, torn down a near demigod to keep each other safe. Normal bonds of friendship.)

"I'd like to see you now and then, now that things are settling down, and I was wondering how you'd feel about…"

Caleb's watching him so closely now. Mollymauk feels his face burning. 

"Mollymauk." Caleb says. Molly stops in his stammering. 

"Yeah?" He says, his voice more a squeak than a vocalization. 

"Are you asking me on a date?"

Molly finds that the wood grain of the floor sort of looks like a dragon from this angle. 

He swallows. 

"Yes?" He says, not looking up. 

"I think, well. We are definitely at a good place to think about these things," Caleb says, "Though I do plan to take some students, and to chase down the remaining evidence of the Assembly and their actions…" 

"I'm flexible," Molly says, and then he pauses. Don't make him uncomfortable. "My schedule is flexible. I'm sorry. Didn't mean —"

"I think, perhaps, it would be nice to see how flexible you are, Mollymauk Tealeaf." Caleb laughs, and Molly finds himself taken aback. 

"You—" he starts, then laughs in return. "Caleb?"

He gets only a smile in return. 

And oh, what a smile it is. Mollymauk feels his knees go a little weak, finds laughter bubbling in the back of his throat as Caleb ushers him forward for a hug, arms wrapping around him. When he pulls away, he feels hands on his shoulders,

lips against his forehead. 

Mollymauk says nothing, but he smiles.

A return gesture, a promise of more. 

It's not quite love yet, he thinks, but it's a start. 

An ending to one story and the first page of another. 

[reidsnose]

doodles

overview: reader doodles on her hands a lot and spencer has to give into the temptation of coloring it in

genre: flufffffff

a/n: sorry ive havent posted a fic in like a week, ive been in quite a slump but i had this idea well after midnight but i just had to write it so lmk what u guys think of this one :)

masterlist

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doodling on your hands: a once nervous habit that had seeped into your everyday life and now is just a regular habit. nearly everyday you would come to work with clean hands and get home with a mini art gallery on your non dominant one.

Spencer admired this from the moment he noticed it. at first he thought you had a tattoo but when you came back the next day with it completely gone, he was a tad confused, only to catch you doodling on that very same hand a couple hours later on the jet. he thought maybe it was an occasional thing, a habit you'd quit once you got better situated into the team, but after nearly a year you still left work almost everyday with some cutesy sketches drawn on your hand.

Spencer found himself looking forward to your doodles, imagining in his head what you might draw each day, and thinking of all the colors you would add if you had the time. being the great profiler that he is, he noticed a pattern: you subconsciously correlated your doodles with your mood.

after especially hard cases or just bad days you always drew roses.

when you were very happy you drew all sorts of fruits.

anxiousness bore little swampy creatures and lily pads.

tired days filled your hands with random, intricate designs that you didn't even have to try hard to make.

and content was anything else.

he was so impressed and absolutely adored your little coping mechanism. watching you concentrate on making those teeny pieces of art simply for your own pleasure was definitely a sight to see. the way your eyebrows furrowed and tongue poked out a bit was absolutely positively adorable. and soon he had noticed that he was looking forward less to the doodles and more to watching you draw them. and after that he began looking forward to just you.

you were sat on the jet with your back to the corner of the last seat on the plane, creating a pattern of roses on the back of your hand. Spencer plopped down in the seat next to you, growing tired of watching from so far away.

"that bad, huh?" he asked, noticing the type of flower you were gracing your hand with.

"hm?" you looked up, confused.

"you only doodle roses on bad days." he explained, pointing to your hand.

"what? no i don't!" you defended, " i just think roses are neat."

to be fair, you were having a bad day but he could've profiled that without the doodle. he cant be right, can he? there was no way you had a mood system for your doodles! unless there was.

"repetitive strokes are therapeutic, so roses being rough days make sense. the spiral in the middle followed by however many layered petals you want is a perfectly repetitive while still interesting enough to doodle."

"if i didn't know any better i'd say you've been spying on me, Dr. Reid," you teased, enjoying the slight rouge that appeared on his cheeks.

"what! no! i'm- i'm a profiler i notice patterns! i just- spying sounds creepy." he stammered.

"ok. how about admiring." you jabbed, turning a little red yourself.

"fine. but you know coloring helps too." he flipped back to the old topic of conversation.

"unfortunately i only have the standard blue, black and red ink."

"roses are red." he chuckled.

"interesting point," you bent down and reached into your bag, pulling out a red pen and handing it to him, "knock yourself out."

"what?" he looked at you slightly bewildered.

"coloring is therapeutic, you said it yourself. and you and i both know that you need something to relax you after a case like that. we all do." you explained, trying to be as nonchalant as you could knowing his skin would touch yours.

he grabbed the pen and clicked it open, coloring smoothly and slowly inside the lines you had already made in black, careful not to go over them and smudge the ink. you and him both tried your best to ignore the warmth shooting through your bodies from every place your hands touched. his fingertips lightly grazing your knuckles as he worked.you worked your way up your arm, giving you both space to work and by the time you landed, you had a half sleeve garden of surprisingly well colored (and somehow shaded) red roses.

you went home that night and bought a pack of colorful (washable) pens, hoping this little rose garden with him wasn't a one time thing. and even if it was, you would want to add your own pop of color to your doodles.

thankfully it wasn't.

you and Spencer found yourselves drawing and coloring on your hand a lot. he would catch you doing it and pop in over your shoulder just to add a touch of color where he thought it fit. and you began to feel sad washing off what the two of you had created that day, feeling nostalgic for time that has hardly passed.

and sometimes on the jet you would get tired of your own skin, so you would draw little doodles on his hand, often times leaving a little heart at the base of his thumb. these little hearts he avoided washing off for as long as he possibly could because they felt like a part of you was always with him. he started doing the same thing to your hand, a sort of signature the two of you shared.

most days, the doodles on your hands were pretty much fully colored in.

but now Spencer began to worry. what if you get ink poisoning because of his coloring? sure, the risk was statistically low, improbable even; but never zero. so one night after work he went out and bought a little sketchbook and on the front he scrawled,

"y/n's super duper special sketchbook"

upon receiving it, after giving him a hug he never wanted to let go of, you took a sharpie and started editing the title he had given it. so it now read:

"y/n and Spencer's super duper special sketchbook"

the two of you used up a whole page that day, front and back filled with all types of fruits. Spencer smiled to himself, knowing this had made you very happy. you took a second to take a step back and admire him doing the very thing he admired you for. and you understood why; he just looked so precious and you suddenly realized you craved the feeling of his hand touching yours. so you leaned over and drew a little black heart at the base of his thumb. he looked up at you, smiling widely before returning a red heart to the base of your thumb.

and you guys tore through that book, using a page a day and filling it cover to cover in no time. your own personal handmade coloring book. it turned out to be both of your most prized possessions, a pang of sadness filling your chests as you finished the last page.

you felt bad taking it home with you that night, wondering if maybe Spencer wanted to keep it. maybe you should keep it at work so you can both have it. thats the fair thing to do. you looked down, smiling sadly at the little red heart on your hand.

he did want to keep it. but he had a better idea in mind. he looked down, smiling excitedly at the little black heart on his hand.

the next day when you arrived to work all your worries were solved. on your desk laid a new sketch book entitled:

"y/n and Spencer's super duper special sketchbook: volume ii"

you laughed as you read a small lilac post it note that said, "i want to keep this one please" signed with a little red heart in the corner.

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ultra mega super cool taglist:

@mac99martin @imhreid @spencersmagic @hollydaisy23 @raelady1184 @a-broken-pact @padfootswife @hey-there-angels @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos @sonnydoesrandomshit @coffeereid-deactivated20210303 @averyhotchner @laurakirsten0502 @reidyoulikeabook @rem-ariiana @spencerreid9 @vampire-overlord @takeyourleap-of-faith @s1utformgg @violetspoetic

[osakunt]

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➬ 𝗧𝗮𝗶𝗷𝘂 𝘅 𝗙𝗲𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 [𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲𝘀𝗸𝗶𝗽]

➬ 𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗔 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗯𝗮 𝘀𝗶𝗯𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗽𝗮𝘀𝘁

➬ 𝗠𝘆 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘆𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘀𝘄𝗼𝗼𝗻 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗧𝗮𝗶𝗷𝘂 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝗼𝗳𝗳𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗯𝗲𝗴𝘂𝗻 !!!! 𝗹𝗲𝘁𝘀 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘄𝗲 ?! 🦟🦗🦟🦗

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The sun smacks the crap out of Taiju when you yank the curtains open. The sun rays hit him right in the eyes, interrupting his sleep. Pulling the blankets over his head he tries to continue his deep slumber but you had other plans

Opening up the window you let the cold air come into the room, instantly making the buff man stir under the covers to find a warm spot. Feeling around for you in his sleep, he gives up, feeling that your side of the bed was completely cold. Grunting he turns back to his side while wrapping the warm covers around him tightly so no cold air could reach him.

Going another step further, you flop on the bulk of a man, uncovering his face to wake him up with ghost kisses to his face. You start at is forehead - move to his left cheek then his right. Lastly his lips. “C’mon Tai. It’s late” you whisper. In return you get a grunt and light shove.

Laying chest down on him you start to poke him and run your hand through his blue locks. Booping his nose and opening up his eyes, he finally peaks his eyes open giving you a straight but calm look. “Why are you like this ?” he smile unraveling himself from the covers to expose his naked upper body to trap you in his hold. Tattoos glistening under the rays of the sun and skin starting to perk with goosebumps from the cold air.

“I let you sleep in long enough. The business ain’t gonna run itself , ya know ?”

“I have workers for that, sweetheart. There’s no need for me to go in”

“I got a call from there just now. Your little worker bitches got in a fight over who admires you the most. You need to go deal with that” you get out his hold and get out of bed to fully slide the window open and let the cold - cold air wonder fully in. “Ohhhh - A special someone called saying they wanted to meet with you. So imma need you to get up and at least get dressed”.

“Someone ? Who the hell would want to see me ? Except for you of course” you can feel the sly smirk sliding across his lips.

“Shut the fuck up” you throw a shirt at him before walking out “the special person it Hakkai !!” You yell out making your way downstairs.

“Hakkai ?…that’s not new. He’s been wanting to hang out more….” Taiju whispers to himself. His heart warms up as he repeats your words over and over. He was happy to know that his younger siblings were reaching out. He was also happy because if it weren’t for them, he wouldn’t have met you.

“This is (y/n), don’t try to hit her” Yuzuha glared at him when you two walk into the house with Hakkai close behind.

“I don’t care. Just don’t piss me off” he glanced over his shoulder and quickly goes back to what he was doing. Only thing was that on that one little glance, you caught his attention and he had to double take what he had just seen. Turning his whole body around his eyes fall in contact with your and you roll your eyes at his way of being then going back to talk to with his siblings.

Your stops at their house became more frequent when you saw Hakkai with a swollen cheek and Yuzuha with a purple mark on her neck, with signs of choking.

You bust through the doors of their house and walk right up to the Black Dragons leader who was lounging on the couch with his feet kicked up on the coffee table. “The hell did you !?”. Taiju didn’t even blink and yet didn’t know how he had a gun to his chin and you on top of him.

He didn’t feel rage. It was more of a flustered feeling . Him avoiding eye contact was what gave it away. He sat there still not knowing how to react - he sat there waiting for you to pull the trigger.

“(Y/n) please don’t”

Hakkai grabs your arm making you pull the trigger and missing your aim. Next thing y’all know - Taiju is laughing at you having guts to even threaten him. “Not bad. You didn’t completely miss” he point to his tattooed - grazed shoulder.

After the confrontation at the church, Taiju left but found a way to get to you. He remembers picking up the phone anxiously to dial the number he was provided. When your voice was heard from the other side of the line - he froze.

It took some good convincing to get you to go out with him but at the end you noticed his character change. You saw that he wasn’t the same. He was more calm. Less annoyed and with no animosity circling him. It was like being in a presence of a whole different person.

From there things came to be to what they are now. You still being friends with Hakkai and Yuzuha, you let them take all the time they needed to ease into the idea of having an actually bond with their older brother. A sibling bond where there was no physical nor mental violence.

“-pa”

“Helloooo ?! Papa !!!!”

A young boy with blue hair and the same eyes as him looks up at Taiju - calling for his attention.

“Hm ? What’s wrong, shorty ?” Taiju looks down at the boy, bringing him up in his arms

“ ‘M not short” the child pouts

“Of course you aren’t….For a three year old” he laughs bouncing the young boy in his arms. The laughter erupting from the child was what made Taiju feel complete. He was the missing puzzle that completed the agonizing puzzle Taiju used to be. He had you, his siblings and last but most important his three year old son who had his looks but your personality - a sprinkle of Yuzuha’s spunk with a dash of Hakkai’s shyness.

“Uncle Kai is here…mommy said hurry or she’ll drag you down” his son smiles not having a clue of what he just said. He was asked to deliver a message not to understand it after all.

Knowing that you were capable of doing exactly what you said, Taiju sat his son in the middle of the bed and pulled out clothes - showing the child the options to choose from. “Help me pick, buddy”

Once finally dressed the father-son duo make their way downstairs to be received with laughter coming from you and his siblings. Hakkai looking up - he smiles seeing his brother and nephew approaching. He gets up to greet his brother along with his sister. Small hugs with cherished hello’s are exchanged.

“Just came by to see how things are, ya know ? Heard that something happened at your place of work. Bet being the boss scares the hell outta those employees” Hakkai jokes

“I’ve been wanting to punch a few of them” Taiju adds a chuckle to his statement but everyone knew that he was being serious.

“I can punch them !!” The blue haired boy exclaims with pride, showing how he’d punch one of the hosts that once flirted with you.

“No,baby - Let’s put ketchup in his pocket” Taiju’s smirk appears once again.

“C’mon Tai, do better. ” You grab your beloved son from him

“Don’t be a pussy, Taiju. Pour hot sauce into his drink” Yuzuha adds in

“Yeaa. We can watch him try to calm the heat in his mouth but we’ll add hot sauce to any other beverage” Hakkai instigates smiling

“We can even eat while watching him” you wiggle your eyebrows adding into the ‘plan’.

“Wow …..We aren’t a normal family…..” Yuzuha states states the obvious.

“Far from it” You say grabbing your coat

“I like it 🤷🏻‍♀️” Hakkai shrugs opening the door to greet the ice cold wind.

“Same here” you all agree that normal wasn’t the best word to describe the family. Even if the family wasn’t normal; to all of you it was normal and didn’t mind having it that way.

“Let’s not get arrested though”

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I just know that this man became a softy after the timeskip. I mean look at him. He showed that he cared for his brother on that time line where Hakkai dies. Not only that but I truly feel like he always cared but he just didn’t know how to show it so he resorted to violence to show that he did.

[solarwriting]

guns and gifts

carl gallagher x fem!reader

request: Hey! I hope I can send you a request for Karl Gallagher of Shameless. Maybe Karl and y / n were a couple before jail, and after leaving jail he came to her to ask her for forgiveness. y / n doesn't forgive him and he starts giving her gifts and apologizing every day. Then everything is at your discretion. Happy ending please💛 from @powerpuffluuvv

genere: fluff + angst

word count: 2.1k

warnings: swearing, ooc carl

posted on april 18, 2021

puppy love. thirteen year-olds holding hands and sharing stolen kisses. it was a sweet relationship that could’ve grown and matured with the two teens as they did. instead carl found himself a job on the corner and when he got caught y/n was done. fiona tried to get through to the boy, asking him to apologize but he brushed her off.

“can i please just talk to him? maybe he’ll listen to me.” y/n pleaded with the lawyer.

fiona stepped in, “it wouldn’t hurt to try it.”

“five minutes.” the lawyer relented.

y/n thanked him and rushed into the room where he sat. he squinted at her through the glasses fiona gave him. “i’m not fuckin’ sorry. i wish i was smarter about it. i wouldn’t have used chuckie as a mule.”

“you know what. if you don’t tell that judge you’re fucking sorry and that you’ve learned from your mistakes i will never speak to you again.” y/n exited the room quickly letting the ultimatum hang in the air as the door slammed behind her.

during the hearing her eyes were trained on the back of his head, hoping she could somehow will him to do the right thing. she kept her arms crossed as she leaned back. kev and v were sat next to her, waiting anxiously to see what he’d say.

“i’m going to make juvie my bitch.” as soon as he said those words, y/n sighed, getting up from her seat, shouldering her back and slipping out of the courtroom as they hauled carl away. he caught her eye before she left, she froze for a moment before shaking her head and making her exit.

time passed and she still spent time with the rest of the gallaghers, she lived across the street so it would have been hard not too. she helped take care of liam when needed and she got a job at patsy’s with fiona’s help.

the day carl came back had been a surprise for everyone, y/n was helping fiona with making dinner after a shift at patsy’s. the front door had slammed shut and, thinking it was debbie, fiona asked if she got a message about hamburger buns. y/n’s eyes shot up when a much deeper voice responded, “nah, it’s just me.”

excited, fiona rushed towards the boy, wrapping him up in a hug. hugging back, he looked up throwing a wave to y/n who was rooted in place, “hey, y/n.”

snapping herself back into reality she lurched forward wiping her hands and grabbing her things, pulling her bag over her shoulder and gripping her keys tightly she looked back at the boy as fiona fussed over his new appearance. “fuck you, carl.” she spat, slamming the back door shut behind her.

y/n managed to avoid carl at school the next day, he was too busy with “his boy” nick and his new white boy carl personality and selling illegal weapons in the bathrooms to bother her anyways. she rushed to patsy’s as soon as school ended and began her shift.

she spent the afternoon rushing from table to table, taking orders, passing out food, and pouring coffee. she was pouring coffee for a couple sitting near the front door when the bell twinkled, signaling a new customer.

her back turned to the door and her focus pointed and the coffee she was pouring she greeted the customer quickly, “take a seat anywhere and i’ll be right with you darling.” she smiled at the couple before turning around, finding herself face to face with white boy carl himself. “get the fuck out.”

y/n rushed away from him, pouring coffee for a man sat at the counter. carl followed, “please just talk to me, y/n.”

“she doesn’t want to talk to you, man.” the customer spoke up as y/n placed the coffee pot on the burner.

“what the fuck did you just say to me?” carl asked the man.

he stood up, “i told you she doesn’t want to talk. so leave.”

y/n stepped in before a physical altercation broke out, “thank so much, sir, but i can fight my own battles.” she pushed carl towards the door, “out.” she kept pushing him despite his protests, “get the fuck out. go.”

the door slammed behind them, and carl began to speak, “no, you’re going to shut your fucking mouth and listen. i don’t want to listen to you. i don’t want to talk to you. and i don’t even want to see you but that last one might be a little fucking impossible since we’re neighbors and i work with your sister so i’m going to be civil towards you but i will only acknowledge your existence when it is absolutely necessary. clear?”

carl began to protest but y/n cut him off, “are we fucking clear?” carl grumbled an agreement and y/n sighed, “good, now get the fuck out if here. i have to go back to work.”

y/n rushed back into the diner, throwing herself back into work. hoping she looked busy enough to keep the nosy man from before to leave her alone, she poured more coffee, took orders, passed out plates. until her shift ended and she could finally take the l back home.

the next run in with carl happened two days later, she was walking home from school, thankful for the day off from work when carl and nick pulled up on a bike. “y/n! wait!”

sighing, y/n whipped around, “i thought i told you i didn’t want to talk to you.”

“i have something for you.” carl explained as he got closer, y/n ignored him and started walking again, the bike quickly catching up with her. “here.”

y/n scoffed, eyeing the bag, “whatever it is i don’t want it.”

“it’s a book, debbie told me you wanted to read it.”

y/n sped up, “no thanks, already read it.” she didn’t care what book it was, she didn’t want anything from him. she took this moment to cross the street, the passing cars making it difficult for the boys on the bike to follow.

she entered the gallagher house hoping carl would be too busy to come home for a few hours while she watched liam. “i get off at nine, if anyone else comes home you’re welcome to leave but i plan on bringing something back for dinner if you want to stick around for that.”

“of course i’ll stay. me and liam are going to have a great time. isn’t that right liam?” y/n asked the toddler who nodded enthusiastically. fiona thanked her and rushed out the door.

y/n put on a movie, which liam fell asleep watching about thirty minutes in. y/n got up and stretched when the movie ended, adjusting the blanket she threw over liam when he fell asleep. she walked in the kitchen, stiff from sitting for so long. she pulled out a can of pop from the fridge and leaned her back against the fridge, using to stretch her body more.

the door swung open and carl walked in, “good you’re hear, i have something else for you.”

“whatever it is, i don’t want it.” y/n sighed into her drink.

“it’s a necklace, here.” he opened the velvet box to show her an expensive looking necklace.

she turned away from him, “no thanks.” walking back into the living room. “go somewhere else please, i have to watch liam.”

carl sighed before exiting the house with nick, who had been hanging back by the door during the exchange. he nodded to nick and the two rolled out to go do god knows what.

that night fiona came home with food, the entire gallagher clan plus kev and v enjoyed. there were enough people that y/n managed to avoid speaking to carl the entire evening. every time he tried to speak to her she’d find someone to talk to, she talked lip about something she had to do for school, ian told her about trevor, and her and debbie talked about anything.

v even pointed out the strange behavior when carl was left looking slightly dejected to fiona, who just shrugged in response.

“thank you fiona, goodnight everyone.” y/n called as she stepped out the back door. she crossed the street quickly and made it home, which as usual was empty, the rest of her family nowhere to be found.

she sighed, grabbing a beer from the fridge and kicking of her shoes as soon as she made it to her room. she threw herself back on her bed yelping when she collided with something hard. she jumped up only to see the jewelry box and book carl had bought her. she set her beer down and pulled the box open, smiling at the necklace. it was gold, with a small tear shaped pendant that held some sort of crystal or diamond.

she set the box next to her beer, which she grabbed and took sip of as she grabbed the book. it was actually something she’d been wanting, she rolled her eyes before opening it to the first page.

the next fee days followed a similar pattern, carl would stop her at school and work and even his own house to offer her gifts, which she would refuse, which would always end up on her bed at the end of the day. on a particularly rough day, y/n had enough. she was walking home from school, carl (who was alone this time) behind her, like clockwork offering another gift.

“carl, please just leave me alone. i don’t have the energy to deal with you.” y/n said not stopping. carl made a comment and y/n snapped, “god i’m not going to forgive you because you chose to go to juvie. you could have just apologized and gotten parole but that didn’t happen. and i’m not going to be your girlfriend again because i don’t even know who you are any more, this thug personality doesn’t look good on you.” y/n sighed rushing away before he could answer.

she was suddenly thankful for the day off, deciding to spend it all alone at home. it was a friday and her weekend was also free so she spent the next few days home alone. her family was gone of course, they only only seemed to show up once a month just to leave again the same day.

sunday evening y/n laid in the couch watching what was on tv when there was a knock on the door. y/n groaned, getting up to answer it freezing when carl was revealed on the other side. he looked small, he was curled into himself and he looked sad. his braids were out, soft curls in the place. “hey, y/n.” he said softly. y/n wordlessly moved out of the way to let him in.

“i’m done. no more sell drugs, guns, anything. something happened, with nick and i don’t want that to be my life anymore.” his voice cracked and y/n instinctively wrapped him into a hug, squeezing protectively. he cried into her shoulder, holding her tightly, scared to let her go.

“hey,” y/n spoke softly, running her fingers through his hair, “you’re okay. i got you.” once carl calmed down, he pulled away but y/n held onto him, hands on his face.

“i really miss you y/n. and i know i was awful before but all i want to do is be with you. i love you.” he sighed, his hands holding her wrists.

y/n pulled him closer, “i love you, too, idiot.” carl gave her a lopsided smiled before surging forward to connect their lips in a hot kiss. y/n stumbled backwards before backing into the wall behind her. carl bit on her lip softly causing her breath to catch in her throat. she tugged on his hair and he squeezed her hips. she pulled away for breath, pressing her forehead to his, “my room?” breathless carl nodded pressing a quick kiss to her lips before they rushed to her room.

the next morning the front door slammed opened, “y/n! i’m going to kill fiona!” debbie stormed through the house bursting into y/n’s room where she was laying next to a topless carl, wearing only his t-shirt, “oh my god! ew!” debbie shielded her eyes from the sight before her.

“hey, debs.” y/n mumbled, sheepishly.

debbie groaned, “just get dressed, we have school.”

[syn4k]

ashes question: did pix ever get up to anything interesting while alone in the desert? and how did he like. survive for so long

interesting? not really. unless you were the court up until two years after his disappearance, still sending people out into the desert and anxiously awaiting any news. as for how he survived, the answer is "barely".

for the first year and a half or so after he left, he still had a pretty good sense of self-preservation, no matter how much he tried to ignore it. (and ignore it he did- that's how he got to where he was at the start of Ashes. ignoring your personal needs goes against every instinct in your body. it takes practice. this did not happen overnight.) due to this, he'd find towns far out and knock on or hover in front of random doors, asking one thing: a roof for the night. no food, no water, just somewhere to sleep. it didn't even have to be a bed.

those who hadn't heard or didn't recognize him nodded usually, letting him in. he was always gone when they checked the next morning, sometimes with a small note of thanks. those who did recognize who he was and what he had done either let him in but with a pitied look or denied him entrance entirely. over time as news spread, he was recognized more and more.

for him, the pity was worse than being denied entry, and he began to hope for the second option. eventually, he stopped walking into villages entirely, and began avoiding them

after that, he subsided mostly on the dew that gathered on cacti in the mornings and rotten flesh. yep. rotten flesh. sometimes he found and cooked rabbits that had stayed in the heat too long and had overheated. mans got sick a lot.

he sheltered in random caves he found above or below the surface, sometimes abandoned homes (although those were a kick in the teeth to stumble upon more often than not because 1. most of them flew the pixandrian banner still and 2. they were a reminder of how he had failed Everyone which was why he had left and- you get the point.)

as time went on, he found himself needing less and less to get by. take that as you will, but it meant that eventually he could travel long distances without too much to go on

i mentioned that people looked for him, right? yeah. his own people did, his allies did (see: fwhip's comment in chapter 13), and in a way he was looking for himself in solitude too, but the sands only reflected his own past back to him and so all he saw most days was a wasteland.

the pixandrians conducted search parties, both official and not, but they dwindled fast since it was basically looking for a needle in a haystack. also, pix was scarily good at disappearing and hiding in plain sight. sometimes someone thought they saw a lone figure walking on the horizon, but when they got closer, he was gone. of course at that point he was little more than a myth and a mirage

(about 4 years after he left and the empire had mostly collapsed in on itself, a merchant was trudging through the wastes looking for abandoned houses to loot. something shiny caught their eye, and they bent down to look. it was a compass housed in copper, long since pitted and oxidized. they took out their own compass to see if maybe they could sell or maybe even replace the new one since it'd go for a much higher price, but instead of pointing north, the copper compass pointed southeast, the way the merchant had come, from the old desert capital populated mostly by stray dogs and librarians looking for legends and history. you can't sell history. they had been told that there was a lot of copper around here, though, so they decided to look around for some anyways.)

(the thing didn't even work properly, they thought with a scoff, and tossed it back into the sand. absolutely useless.)

(had they seen the "P.R" inscribed on the back in neat lettering, though, they might have hesitated a second before throwing it back in.)

[amynchan]

IN HONOR OF @mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess, WE HAVE A FIC!!!

Based on this post, this thing is now a few hours in the making. XD No beta, but I hope you all enjoy anyways!

It’s hard.  It’s so, so, so hard sometimes.

“Just a little to the left!  No, more left!  No—goodness, do you not know what left is?  There we go!  Perfect!  Thanks!”

Jiang Cheng watches as the workers roll their eyes at Nie Huaisang’s exuberance.  He can empathize a little, and he watches the other man flitter off to the next thing while the workers leave the banner alone.

The banner.  Jiang Cheng may need to hide in a hole after this is all done.  A miserable groan rises from his chest and is released into the equally miserable world.

“Hey, no grumping!”  Nie Huaisang appears out of nowhere to jab Jiang Cheng in the side with a ridiculous fan.  “Not today!  You can grump tomorrow.”

“I grump every day,” scowls Jiang Cheng, rubbing the now sore spot in his side.  He glares at the fan.  “What’s that thing made of?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?”

Jiang Cheng’s scowl deepens.  “Even I know that’s old by now.”

“And yet, you got it just fine.”  Nie Huaisang’s eyes twinkle with mischief and a victory he’d never admit aloud, and Jiang Cheng huffs angrily.  He turns away when Nie Huaisang starts to tut.  “Oh, come on, Jiang-xiong!  You’re the one who asked me to help with Jin Ling’s graduation party!”

It’s another victory for Nie Huaisang because Jiang Cheng did, in fact, ask.  For help.  From him.

“You know the Jins would have done something awful,” he mutters.  “He deserves something more than…”

A mental image of what he would get if the Jins had their way enters his brain, and Jiang Cheng shudders in horror.  Nie Huaisang pats his back sympathetically.

“Yes, gaudy gifts and boring CEOs to get him started ‘as a professional,’” says Nie Huaisang, the derision coming through loud and clear through tone and the finger quotes.  To drive the point home, he rolls his eyes.  “Jin Ling is going into high school, not a corporate job.  He’s still a kid.  He should have the chance to make some decent memories.”

Jiang Cheng cuts a look at the self-proclaimed party-planner.  Much as he’d loathe to admit it, his own skills weren’t here.  If he planned anything, it was a business meeting to get business running through slumps or a launch of new policies.  He didn’t plan fun things, and Jin Ling…

…he deserved better than what Jiang Cheng could provide here.  So, Nie Huaisang.

“Trust me,” says Nie Huaisang, like it’s easy to do.  “Jin Ling will have the best graduation party!”

Jiang Cheng looks around.  The workers, the decorations, the…  Nie Huaisang.  Jiang Cheng scowls, doing his best to push down the anxiousness that he’s been steadfastly avoiding since his friend arrived.

“It better be.”

“It will!  Just don’t grump, and it’ll be fine.”

“Huaisang!”

…/…/…/

“…course you’d get married to a turkey leg,” grumbles Jin Ling, side eyeing the individual he’s somehow called…  ugh… a friend.

“You’re just jealous,” cheers Lan Jingyi, taking another triumphant bite of his fowl bride.  “Iffs ve vest fing to effer ha’en to ‘e!”

“Chew, Jingyi,” Lan Sizhui says, watching his cousin with only a hint of trepidation.  He’s still somehow calm, and Jing Ling isn’t sure why he’s still smiling.  “We can’t understand what you’re saying.”

Jin Ling watches with disgust as Lan Jingyi chews happily and then swallows the entire mouthful of turkey leg.  “I said it’s the best thing to ever happen to me!”

“I can’t tell if that’s stupid or just sad,” says Jin Ling, and Lan Jingyi scowls in his direction.

“You’re lucky we’re at your uncle’s house,” he says darkly.

“Or you’d what?” asks Jin Ling as he grabs the doorknob.  “Flip me the bird?”

Lan Jingyi splutters, and Jin Ling leaves Lan Sizhui for emotional cleanup.  He has to go cleanse himself from that awful pun.

Wei Wuxian is rubbing off on him.  Gross.

However, two steps into his uncle’s house tells him that something is… off.  Very off.

“Fairy?”  Jin Ling drops his overnight bag, eyes narrowed as he takes in the empty entryway.  “Jiujiu?”

His friends come through the door behind him, and the entire place is still… empty.

“Maybe he’s at work?” asks Lan Sizhui.  Jin Ling shakes his head.

“No way,” he says, an unease creeping up on him that he’d rather not address but is getting bigger with every second.  “Jiujiu’s always home when I come home, even if he’s got work.  Especially ever since that stuff with…  No, jiujiu does the core stuff with work when I’m gone, and he does remote work the rest of the time.  He’s always here when…”

…when I get home from school.

Jin Ling blinks away some pressure that’s building up at the bridge of his nose.  Graduation seemed like a good thing just a few hours ago.  The overnight eighth-grade trip was a lot of fun, and he’s looking forward to finally being treated like someone who can handle himself, but…

…but now his uncle isn’t here…

A thought strikes Jin Ling harshly, and it’s all he can do to breathe through it.

If his uncle doesn’t have to help him with his homework anymore, if his uncle doesn’t have to sign field trip slips, if Jin Ling is expected to tackle high school like someone who can handle himself…  will his uncle stop being there?  Stop asking him what happened in his day?  Stop helping him with things?

Will his uncle’s presence…  stop?  Now that there’s no need to push Jin Ling to do his homework or to go bed on time for school because he’ll be a high school student…

Independence sounded so great a minute ago.  Now it feels cold.

“Maybe he just took a break,” says Lan Jingyi, and Jin Ling feels the anxiety rise.  “I mean, we took a break from them, maybe they need a break from—what’s that look for?  I’m just saying!”

“He’ll probably be here soon,” says Lan Sizhui, and it helps, but not a lot.  “Let’s just put our stuff in your room, okay?”

Jin Ling nods and grabs his bag jerkily.

A part of him knows that he’s being stupid.  He knows.

…but still…

…/…/…/

“Jiang-xiong, trust me!  He’s going to love it!”

Jiang Cheng will do no such thing.  He’s trusting Nie Huaisang to look after the dog and that’s it.  Party’s planned.  Good job.  Now, he has to go fix the bungling oversight Nie Huaisang made.

If the man would stop hanging like a limpet off his arm.  Jiang Cheng shoves him.

“Kids love surprises!” the man insists, and something in Jiang Cheng tenses, angry and ready to lash out.  “Don’t be grumpy about it.  He’ll be fine once—”

But Jiang Cheng is done.  He whirls on the man he’d called ‘friend.’

“The last time Jin Ling got a surprise, Jin Guangyao was charged with no less than 3,000 counts of blue collar crime and tried to take him hostage and flee the country.  Jin Ling had to deal with the scar from that stupid collar for weeks!”  Everything blew up last year, while Jin Ling was in seventh grade, and while the boy has recovered pretty well—as irked as he is, Jiang Cheng has to thank Wei Wuxian for his intervention there—surprises are still a no-go.  He knows that.  He knows that.

So who the fuck trusted Nie Huaisang to “take care of everything”??

Oh yeah.  Him.

Jiang Cheng really needs to punch himself later.  Not now, though.

He needs to go home, where Jin Ling is evidently there by himself.  Jiang Cheng remembers coming home to an empty house.  After his parents died.  After the first lawsuit.  After his sister married.  After Wei Wuxian left.  After…

He just…  he can’t.  He can’t leave Jin Ling in an empty house like that.  He can’t.

“You’re being paranoid,” complains Nie Huaisang, but Jiang Cheng doesn’t care anymore.

“If you lose Fairy, you’re dead to me,” he warns before he leaves the venue.  Jiang Cheng curses when he sees the burning sky above.

It’s so late.  The party isn’t supposed to start until a little later, he knows, but…

“Stupid Huaisang,” growls Jiang Cheng as he finds his motorcycle.  He fishes out one of the two helmets from the attached storage space, jams it on his head, and kicks the machine to life.  He’s on the street faster than he can curse his friend’s name again.

The ride home takes too long, and Jiang Cheng feels his stomach drop when the doorknob twists under his grip.

Jin Ling is home, and no one was there to greet him.

Jiang Cheng huffs angrily, and he strides inside.

“A-Ling!” he calls.  He listens for a moment, and when he doesn’t hear the thundering of teenage steps, he calls louder.  “A-Ling!”

There’s still nothing.  Jiang Cheng feels a twisting combination of worry and anger as he makes his way to his nephew’s room.  He won’t think about frantically trying to track down Jin Guangyao and Jin Ling.  He won’t.  He bangs on the door.

“Go away!”

The memory takes its share of tension with it as it leaves, and the disrespect twists relief into offense.

“What is that, brat?  Come out here and say it to my face!”

Jiang Cheng knows to do better than this.  He knows.  There are words, and he should use them.

He’s just…  not…  right now.

He needs to pull it together.

Right as he resolves to do that, the door in front of him flies open, and he’s face-to-face with his glowering nephew, and new emotions tear themselves asunder in his chest.

“Who made you cry?” he demands, putting one hand on Jin Ling’s shoulder and using the other to try to smear the tears away.  It’s clumsy and brash, and he knows it, but…  Jin Ling seemed happy to go on the trip, and he knew that the boy was mad, but he didn’t think—

Jin Ling’s hands push Jiang Cheng away before he can get any further.  Jiang Cheng doesn’t have a chance to process his own reaction to that—and boy is there a reaction!—when Jin Ling shouts at him.

“You can’t do that!” he shouts.  “You can’t just leave and then come back and pretend like— like—!!”

Jiang Cheng has never pretended a day in his life, and he isn’t going to start now.

“Don’t talk nonsense!” he snaps, brushing Jin Ling’s hands aside and scrutinizing his face.  He brushes another tear aside.  “I’ve never left you, Jin Ling, and I never will.  Where did you get this idea from?  I’ll break their legs!”

Jiang Cheng runs through the list of people Jin Ling interacts with on a regular basis.  There are more names than in years past—Wei Wuxian, the Lan brothers, the Lan kids, that Ouyang kid—but he’d put his money on that Jin Chan kid.  He’s never liked that—

“But I’ll be in high school,” argues Jin Ling, and Jiang Cheng can’t see the connection.

“So?” he demands.  “I won’t leave you even when you graduate college.  You’ll be showing me proper respect even when you’re a fully grown adult, mark my words!”

There’s a niggling in the back of Jiang Cheng’s brain.  There are words he should be telling Jin Ling, and he’s not sure if they’re supposed to be now or…

“Why?” asks Jin Ling, and his face is so confused and so angry and…  oh, that’s hurt, isn’t it?  “You weren’t here!  You left!  Why are you telling me that you’ll never leave?”

Oh.  Those are words that are needed right now.

Shit.

Jiang Cheng’s never pretended, but he’s never been forthright either.

Jiang Yanli guide him, though, because he’s going to have to try.

“A-Ling, you are going to listen to me very, very carefully,” says Jiang Cheng, speaking slowly and lowly.  Jin Ling reacts by stopping, by glaring at him with eyes that are filled with an emotion that’s all too familiar.

It hurts.

Words.  Now.

Jiang Cheng breathes, and he stares at Jin Ling right in his eyes.  “I will never leave you because I love you.  You are my nephew, and you get nothing less.”

Jiang Cheng watches as the words hit him, and it would be too easy if they could just…  sink in.  Be useful.  Those words are hard to say, but it speaks to his utter failure that Jin Ling doesn’t look like he’ll be able to accept them.

In true stubborn fashion, the boy jerks his face away, glaring at some interesting spot on his door.

“I never asked you to love me,” he grumbles, and Jiang Cheng tries very hard not to let that hit him where he’s most vulnerable.

He doesn’t succeed.

“Love isn’t something that’s given to you just because or if you ask for it,” Jiang Cheng growls, metaphorically licking the wound that years of repeated rejection of have kept open.  He’d loved his father.  He’d loved his mother.  He’d loved his sister.  He’d loved Wei Wuxian.

He loves Jin Ling, and he is so goddamn tired of the people he loves not believing that.

What he’d like to do is shake Jin Ling until he understands, but he knows he can’t do that.  All he can do is bluster forward with these damn insufficient words.

It doesn’t feel like it’ll work.

He has to do it anyways.

He makes a low sound of frustration, and he tries to use more of those words to get the idea through.

“Love is…  it’s something that you’re given because you’re—because you’re making people happy, because you’re a good person, because you’re you!”  Jiang Cheng lifts one hand to shove one pointed finger into Jin Ling’s chest.  He can remember thinking that he loved this kid when he heard about his existence from his sister.  He can remember thinking he loved this kid when he held him the first time.

Then he can remember being so, so wrong.  Because what he felt then was excitement over an idea.  He didn’t know love for this kid until he started showing that personality.  Bopping his tiny fist against Jin Zixuan’s face, snuggling into Jiang Yanli for warmth, wailing at the top of his lungs only to calm down when Jiang Cheng held him.  First words, first steps, first argument, and every single one since.

Jin Ling’s existence brought excitement.  His presence made Jiang Cheng love him.  Every up and down made this kid more of a person and more and more lovable.

He couldn’t stop loving this kid if he tried.

Like hell he’d ever try, though.

“So don’t go telling me that you didn’t ask me to love you when you keep making it so easy for me to do it,” Jiang Cheng orders, looking at the kid he’s watched develop into a person.

Do they fight?  Yes.

Do they get mad at each other?  Yes.

Does he love this kid anyways?  Yes.  Yes, and always yes.

Because loving the right person, loving the person who just grows before your eyes like that, is so damn easy.

Jin Ling’s eyes are like faucets, and he thankfully doesn’t bat Jiang Cheng’s hands away when he pushes the water away.  There’s a lot of water.

“If you don’t stop crying soon, we��ll be late to your graduation party,” mutters Jiang Cheng.

Somehow, that stops the waterworks.  Jin Ling’s eyes widen, and for the first time since Jiang Cheng came home, excitement begins to dawn on his face.

“There’s a party?”

Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling both turn to see the two Lan boys come out of the bathroom.  The polite one is looking at the loud one, who looks a little queasy but otherwise excited.  Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes.

“What were you two doing in my bathroom?” he asks.  The polite one shakes his head, and the loud one looks a little queasier.

“Don’t eat the turkey leg.”

Jiang Cheng gets no more context for that, but Jin Ling looks smug and vindicated and the tears are stopped and the surprise party is now something that the kid can look forward to, so he’s pretty sure he can let that go.

It’s so, so, so hard sometimes to love this kid like how Jiang Cheng thinks he should be loved and cared for.

But if Jin Ling is there, Jiang Cheng knows that he wants to try.  He really, really wants to try.

So he will.

(The Lan kids have to get picked up by Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian because of course they do.  The motorcycle can’t fit all of them.)

(Jin Ling chooses to go with Jiang Cheng on the motorcycle anyways.  They whoop the entire way to the venue.)

(Jin Ling loves the party because of course he does.)

(Nie Huaisang loves being able to say ‘I told you so’ even more.)

(Jiang Cheng figures he can withstand it as long as Jin Ling has a good time.)

[valdomarx]

A Marriage of Convenience

Octoberfest romcom tropes day 1: fake dating

Jaskier pushed his ale aside and broke the wax seal on the letter. As he read the contents, his face pinched into a frown.

“Anything important?” Geralt asked, glancing up from his soup. 

Jaskier chewed his lower lip. “Not really. It’s from my family.” He took a breath. “They’re going to disinherit me.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “What did you do this time?”

Jaskier scoffed. “Nothing, thank you very much! But it’s my 35th birthday next month, and the stipulations of the Lettenhove family will are quite clear. If the oldest son isn’t married by the age of 35, inheritance passes to the next married cousin.”

“Very keen on weddings in Lettenhove, are they?”

“Rather less keen on unmarried bachelors, actually.”

Geralt grunted. “That’s too bad. I imagine a viscount’s fortune could have come in handy for you.”

“Oh, I don’t care about the money.” Jaskier waved a hand dismissively. “It’s just,” he sighed. “I have younger sisters who rely on me for support. If the inheritance goes to cousin Edward, he’ll turn them out without a penny to their names.”

“That’s unkind.”

“It is.” Jaskier slumped. He was glad to have left Lettenhove and its court intrigues behind, but the thought of his sisters being at the mercy of his greedy cousin was unconscionable. He knew too well all the terrible things that could befall a woman alone in the world.

“This will,” Geralt said, stirring his soup absentmindedly, “does it have any rules about who you have to marry?”

“No. Any old wedding will do. But it’s not like I’m going to find anyone willing to tie themselves to me in the next month.”

Geralt shrugged one shoulder. “I’ll marry you.”

Jaskier choked on his ale. “You?”

“Why not?”

“Because…” he broke off and mopped the sweat from his brow. Because I’ve been in love with you for decades. Because I’ve fantasised about you saying this in a million different ways. Because having to pretend it’s real is going to break my heart.

Geralt reached over the table and patted his hand. “It’ll just be pretend,” he said, as if that were in any way reassuring. “This is a problem easily solved. Let me help you.”

Jaskier sagged. This was going to be a disaster.

-

“This is going to be a disaster!” Jaskier paced anxiously around their room. “There are so many ways this could go horribly wrong.”

Geralt sat on the bed counting bundles of herbs. “It’ll be fine.” He was infuriatingly calm. “We’ll head to Lettenhove, have a quick wedding, get your family off your back, and be on our way. It’ll only take a few days.”

“But,” Jaskier kept pacing. “We’ll have to. You know. We’ll have to do couple things. There are certain… expectations of a newly married pair.”

Geralt got to his feet and placed his hands on Jaskier’s shoulders, stopping his anxious traipsing. “We’ll manage. Can’t be any worse than fighting drowners.”

Jaskier looked into amber eyes and felt his heart turn over in his chest. “Everyone will expect us to be holding hands, and kissing, and gods know what else. And you can’t do that.” He sighed. “You don’t even like men.”

Geralt leaned in closer, close enough that strands of his silver hair tickled Jaskier’s cheek. “I like men just fine,” he said, and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Then Jaskier did something terribly foolish. His body moved before his mind, his feet stepping closer, his arms wrapping around Geralt’s neck. He kissed him, hard, and to his astonishment Geralt kissed him back hungrily, lips parting to allow Jaskier to taste him fully, tongue exploring, hands roaming, and by the time they broke apart Jaskier was flushed and breathing hard.

“See?” Geralt said, his deep voice sending a shiver up his spine. “We can do this.”

-

Jaskier wrote to his family to tell them the good news, and he and Geralt wasted no time in heading off to Lettenhove. The journey was long but nothing they were unused to. They traveled by day, slept under the stars by night, and Geralt even picked up a few quick contracts to help pay their way.

It was comfortable, and normal, and Jaskier could almost forget about what he was about to put himself through.

At least, until they reached the outskirts of Lettenhove and they heard the whoosh of an incoming portal. The ground shook, the air rippled, and through the rent in reality stepped Yennefer, terrifying and beautiful as ever.

She raised one perfectly arched eyebrow at them. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

Jaskier couldn’t even bring himself to come up with a snarky reply as she swept past him and went to Geralt. He stood back and watched the two of them, powerful and dazzling together, each other’s equals in capability and composure.

He had never had a chance in this competition, he thought bitterly. He would be pretending with Geralt, while she had his heart for real.

Jaskier was left at camp while Geralt and Yennefer went off to do... whatever it was they did together. (He could guess what that was.) He spent a cold, lonely night with no one but Roach for company, berating himself for feeling so hurt by something he knew from the beginning was nothing but a ruse.

-

With their arrival in Lettenhove proper, there was nothing to do but face his family. The brightest spot of his day was walking into the estate and having his sisters squeal and jump on him just as they had done as children.

He stopped laughing and caught his breath long enough to introduce them. “Essi and Priscilla, this is Geralt.” My husband to be, he thought, and something twisted inside him at that. “Geralt, these are my troublesome sisters.”

Essi dipped her head and Priscilla performed a theatrical bow. “We were wondering if Jaskier would ever settle down,” Essi said with a sly smile.

“But seeing how handsome you are, I can’t blame him!” Priscilla replied, and the two of them broke into fits of giggles. 

Geralt, for his part, took them with good humour. Where Jaskier had been expecting him to be dour, he smiled indulgently and took each of their hands in turn and pressed a kiss to their knuckles, resulting in another uproar of giggling.

“Thank you for that,” Jaskier said quietly as they made their way to the room waiting for them.

Geralt inclined his head. “Have to make a good impression on the future in-laws,” he said, the corner of his lips quirking upward in amusement. 

The rest of his family were predictable as clockwork. Cousin Edward was sour, his father was distant, and his mother was simply relieved to see him married off as was proper. Geralt sat through all of it with more patience and good grace than Jaskier would have thought him capable of.

-

The day of the wedding itself passed in a blur. With such short notice the ceremony was terribly paired down by noble standards, but still, there was the formal breakfast, the dressing in formal garments, the journey to the temple outside of the city, the clamour of priestesses and officials and his family, the exchanging of rings, the reading of texts, and of course the formal dinner.

Jaskier barely remembered any of it. Looking back, the only thing that stuck out in his mind was the feeling of Geralt’s hand clasping his own during the handfasting. And the way that, whenever he was feeling overwhelmed over the course of the day, Geralt’s hand would find his own and give a comforting squeeze. 

-

Finally the ceremonies were complete and they were left in peace in their chambers, the two of them alone for the first time all day. Geralt’s hair had been braided into two slim plaits running either side of his face, though by now they were starting to become mussed. He’d even put on a shirt of dark blue silk as opposed to his standard uniform of all black. The effect was quite stunning.

As the door closed, Jaskier’s shoulders slumped and he breathed for what felt like the first time in hours.

Geralt cupped one cheek tenderly. “You good?”

Jaskier exhaled, letting the anxiety and stress of the day slowly unwind. He looked into Geralt’s warm eyes and felt, for once, safe and unjudged. “I’m good.”

Geralt brought their lips together, soft as could be, and Jaskier’s knees shook. He grabbed Geralt’s forearms to hold himself upright and, desperate for some sort of control, some sort of meaning, he pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss. 

This was a bad idea, he was aware, but Geralt felt so good in his arms. He ran his hands through silky silver hair like he’d always wanted to, he pressed himself close to that muscled chest he’d spent more time than he should have admiring, and he moaned unrestrainedly when Geralt picked him up, locking his legs around his waist.

This was a terrible idea, he knew, but Geralt carried him over to the bed with firm, confident steps, and the temptation to touch, to hold, to kiss was overwhelming. This would only lead to heartache, but he was weak in the face of love, as always. 

Geralt laid him out and took him apart with soft lips and careful fingers and a wicked tongue, and it was everything he’d been dreaming of for years, and yet so much more intense than anything he could have imagined. Geralt was dazzling beneath him, warm amber eyes and pale scarred flesh, beautiful and kind and more than he could possibly deserve.

-

Nuptial celebrations in Lettenhove were mercifully brief, and with the ceremony completed and recorded to the satisfaction of the genealogists, they were free to depart.

There were, however, some customs which could not be avoided.

“You’ll be honeymooning nearby?” Jaskier’s mother asked, with the understanding that this was not a question.

“Actually, we thought -”

“They’ll be staying in my cottage, won’t you?” Priscilla interjected. She’d availed herself of her position, such as it was, to secure a tiny ramshackle cottage on the Kerack coast. It wasn’t opulent but it was, thankfully, far from prying eyes.

Jaskier gave her a tiny nod of thanks and she winked.

“A cottage?” His mother’s lip turned up in distaste. “How quaint.”

“And there’s ever so much to pack, so we must be on our way -” he excused himself with a bow, tugging Geralt behind him.

Out of the view of their parents, Priscilla and Essi set upon him with hugs and kisses, thanked him for saving them from the horrors of cousin Edward, and packed up an obscene quantity of cheeses and wine to take with them.

By the time they departed the estate, Jaskier was even smiling.

-

It was quiet and calm on the coast. The cottage overlooked the sea, rolling and tempestuous, and had just enough space for a kitchen, a bed, and a bath. They had everything they needed, even a stable for Roach outside.

Even though it was only for a few days, Jaskier imagined Geralt would be bored and unhappy, feeling trapped in a place so small. But he seemed content: riding along the coastline in the morning, brushing Roach out, going fishing in the afternoon, preparing the catch for their evening meal.

Jaskier showed him his favourite spices and how to prepare the fish with butter to make it rich and indulgent, and in the quiet moments he wrote poetry or simply sat on the battered chair on the porch of the cottage and watched the waves.

Geralt returned to the cottage with a net bulging with fish and a smile on his face. He’d been doing that more recently, Jaskier had noticed, smiling in a way that seemed natural and unforced. He even left his armour and swords in the cottage and waded down to the sea in just his trousers and shirtsleeves, disarmingly casual.

It was comfortable, almost domestic. 

And it was a torment, showing Jaskier a tiny glimpse of a life he’d never have.

-

Their last night on the coast, Geralt cooked the remainder of their provisions into a feast, poured the best wine they had, and set a fire in the hearth. He piled up blankets and pillows, laid down their warmest furs, and pulled Jaskier into his arms in front of the flames.

“Thank you,” he said, dotting kisses in a line up Jaskier’s neck, “for taking such good care of me.”

Jaskier fidgeted unhappily. “You’re the one doing me a favour,” he reminded him. That seemed important to remember. This was a favour from a friend, nothing more.

Geralt hummed against his neck, the vibrations rippling against his skin. “I can see some advantages to me,” he murmured, continuing his line of kisses up Jaskier’s jaw and toward his lips.

Jaskier, stupidly, allowed Geralt to turn him around, hands delicate around his waist, allowed him to bring their lips together. He allowed a kiss, soft at first, and then another, more intense, moaning into Geralt’s mouth. 

“Can I interest you in an early night?” Geralt purred in his ear, and everything in Jaskier’s body said yes, and everything in his mind said no.

Eventually, his mind won out and he pushed Geralt away. 

“No,” he said, struggling to keep his voice steady. “I can’t. I won’t. I’m sorry, Geralt, but this was a terrible mistake.”

He pushed himself to his feet, ignoring Geralt’s sad expression. He was hit by the urge to run, but there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. Tears welled in his eyes.

“Hey,” Geralt’s voice was so soft behind him. “It’s okay, Jaskier. Whatever it is. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable. I won’t do it again.”

Jaskier deflated. He turned to face Geralt, watery eyes and all. “That’s not the problem. I don’t want you to stop. I want this to be real.”

Geralt stood carefully still. “What do you mean, real?”

Jaskier took a breath, tried to imagine how to explain himself, how to convey what he felt. “I’m in love with you!” he snapped in the end. Not his most eloquent work, but perhaps his most honest.

Geralt tilted his head. “I know,” he said. He looked down at the ring on his finger. “Isn’t that the point?”

“The point?” Jaskier exploded. “The point!” He couldn’t stop himself from waving his arms as he ranted. “Oh, sure, I’m certain that the ideal marriage is between one person who’s hopelessly in love and one person who’s indifferent and besotted with another. I’m sure Yennefer will be delighted when she hears about this whole situation.”

Geralt’s eyes narrowed. “You think I’m in love with Yennefer?”

“Yes! Obviously!”

He paused, obviously weighing his words. “That night when she visited us outside Lettenhove, she wasn’t surprised by the news. She told me congratulations, and that it had taken long enough. I think she knew long before I did that I wasn’t in love with her, not really. My heart already belonged to another.”

Jaskier’s breath caught in his throat. “You mean… You and her, you’re not...”

Geralt shook his head. “What she most wants is something I can’t give her.”

“And you?” Jaskier asked, dreading the answer.

Geralt took his hand. “What I most want,” he stroked his thumb over the ring around Jaskier’s finger, “is something I already have.”

Jaskier’s heart leapt. It was almost too much. It was overwhelming. “You really love me?”

Geralt smiled softly. “I really do.”

Jaskier threw himself into Geralt’s lap, arms around his neck, foreheads pressed together. “Tell me again,” he said, because he was needy.

“I love you,” Geralt said, kissing down the side of his face. “I love you,” he said, lacing their fingers together against the furs. “I love you,” he said, their bodies moving together, finally free to feel with the intensity they had been hiding for so long, their scents mingling together with the fresh salt tang of the sea.

-

The sun shone brightly and the wind whipped their hair as they packed up Roach the next morning. Jaskier paused to admire the view one last time: The rolling waves, the steep cliffs, the shingled beach. 

Geralt slipped his arms around his waist from behind and dropped a kiss just beneath his ear. 

“What does our life look like now?” Jaskier asked, eyes on the waves.

He felt Geralt’s smile against his hair. “Much the same as before,” he said. “With perhaps a few improvements.”

Jaskier turned then and kissed him fully, no need to hold himself back, taking Geralt’s hand and running his fingers over the ring there.

“Ready to head back to the Path?” 

Geralt smiled, and Jaskier would never tire of that. “Ready if you are,” he said with softness in his eyes, “husband.”