#I love writing mean banter between him but I would fold immediately

[bunny-extract]

I want Johnny to bully me so fucking bad

[hooman4ever]

Hello! I like your writing! I'm new to this blog, how are you? Are you taking care of yourself? Did you have a good day?

I wanted to request headcannons of Herman with a partner who is completely in love and just super obsessed with him. In awe when he walks in. Head empty, only Herman.

How would this effect things in bed as well?

GNC reader preferably

My day was actually not half bad which is good. I may have gotten carried away with this because I am currently having Herbert brain rot. Kinda turned into a more of random dating Herbert HCs with your prompt lmao.

Contains: NSFW Themes, Mentions of Oral, Herbert and his little big god complex, Gender Ambiguous Reader

One word- annoying.

Before you and Herbert got together the man had loathed you completely.

Calling you “a weak good for nothing sap,” and “over clingy lap dog desperate for a keeper,” over time Herbert begrudgingly found himself adoring the way you would look at him, your eyes filled with so much love and adoration it catches him off guard the first time he noticed it.

Usually when people looked at him– especially when he had been treated them as he had been you he would see jealousy or scorn. You intrigued him at that moment.

Herbert started to look forward to seeing the way you would light up and gravitate towards him as soon as he entered a room.

The way you would zone out the entirety of the world when he spoke, focusing solely on him, and only him had his heart throbbing, palms clammy.

Finds himself confiding in you more and more over time– you were the only one willing to listen and take him seriously no matter how crazy the ideas he spewed may be. For that, he learned to value you as a person. You weren’t someone disposable anymore.

He loves how you show so much genuine interest in his work. Will even try and get you involved in some less risky things helping you mix some safe chemicals together.

Might set up some small experiments for the both of you as a date night of sorts.

This man wouldn’t know his attraction for you even if it hit him in the face– or stole his reagent. Most likely will have to have Dan point it out to him after one of your many visits to their quaint basement lab, leaving Herbert with a strangely soft smile on his face. His eyes watching you leave a mixture of longing and fondness behind his eyes.

Immediate denial, “I have no clue what you mean, Dan.” Herbert said tight-lipped as his eyes stayed focused on the beaker held delicately between his fingers, eyes trained on the green solution sloshing inside. “Now don’t you pull that on me, Herbert. I see the way you look at [Y/n]. I’m not stupid.” Herbert gives Dan a look asking the man ‘Really, Dan?’. Successfully Herbert had diverted the conversation, starting a friendly banter with his partner.

After Dan exposed Herbert’s feelings, the man won't be able to get the thought out of his head. Just him laying on his sheets hands folded on his chest as the time ticked by– next thing Herbert knew it was morning and he had spent his whole night thinking of you.

Thinking of how soft your hands were– how warm you were– and how your voice was like a soothing melody that worked wonders on talking Herbert down when it came to his angry outbursts due to experiments not going his way.

“I’m fucked,” he would say as he stood up in the morning readying for the day.

Your relationship starts with Herbert conducting his mini experiments on both himself and you– everything builds up starting from Herbert simply randomly grabbing your hand to see how he feels to his lips on yours working feverishly against your shockingly soft lips.

Once the both of you are officially together expect Herbert to get overly possessive and obsessive when it comes to you. Well, he’ll get worse than he was before the two of you became exclusive.

When in public will love to constantly have his hands on you. Around your waist or brushing against the side of your neck. Even just holding hands will do it for him.

Just like how you are absolutely infatuated with him in every which way he will become equally if not more in love with you.

Will he voice the extent of his emotions? No.

Will he show it by intimate small gestures and allowing you to be in his lab along with sharing all his work secrets with you? Yes. To him, his lab and secrets are his entire life so the fact that he is letting you see that part of him is a big sentiment.

Nearly forgot the ‘how would it affect things in bed’–

Now it is no secret, whatsoever, that Herbert has a HUGE god complex. So the fact that you are so utterly obsessed with him will be a huge ego stroke for this man.

He will use that in his dirty talk constantly asking him if you “Want to please him,” if you want to “Be a good little assistant,” or to “Come here and take care of your master,”

Will love watching you give him head. He gets off knowing that you derive pleasure simply from pleasing him. Basically, anything that is you worshiping him in any way had this man hard as rock and ready to go.

“I need you,” you whimpered, hands gripping Herbert’s arm, a pleading look in your eyes as you begged Herbert to take a break from his work for you. “Please, Herbert–” your desperate voice was like music to this man's ears and his patience was running thin as it was. All it took was one more pleading glance for him to set his work down dragging you upstairs.

An excited gleam was in your eyes– a wide smile etched into your lips. You were absolutely giddy.

Herbert’s hands enveloped yours as he controlled your hand movements making sure the beaker filled with a strangely collared liquid didn’t slip from your grip. “Now, just pour it– slowly.” his hot breath fanned against the back of your neck. Even as heat flooded your face you refused to let yourself get distracted from the task at hand.

Herbert was making an effort to spend time with you– albeit it was by teaching you in his lab– but it was precious time together that you would enjoy to the fullest.

The liquid flowed out Herbert’s hands sliding to your waist as he supervised making sure nothing went wrong. “Good job, my precious assistant.” he praised smiling softly as the two liquids in front of the both of you mixed together– glowing slightly before swirling into another color entirely.

[bluesora]

celebrating mother’s day with you

tsukishima kei ; sugawara kōshi ; oikawa torū ; kita shinsuke

headcanon ; fluff ; age up ; snippets of cuteness ; parenthood ; special edition — mother’s day

note: i’m not sure if i portrayed each characterization well but i just thought it’ll be fun to write one. after all, i was blessed to be born with loving parents and i just wanted to share the love i’m grateful for.

tagging: @forgetou @amjustagirl @yacoka @haikyuutothetop @luvnami ;; thank you for dropping these characters as i couldn’t decide who to write for. (of course it was more exciting without context)

ps. it’s longer than expected i’m sorry :’)

tsukishima kei

tsukishima isn’t one who would remember special occasions unless someone had schedule a plan in advance with him. when he wondered if he should do anything for you after hearing his colleagues whispering during break, his work got busier than usual so he had forgotten about it.

that was, until he realized he had ten missed calls from his son; which was odd because he weren’t one to call him so often.

“i was in a meeting, what hap—” before tsukishima could finish his sentence, his son interrupted him, “i bought mom’s favorite cake since you’re slow. hurry home or there’s none left for you,” the line was cut right after; which of course left poor tsukishima’s partner to deal with the aftermath. “tsukishima-san, about the report—”

“it must be so urgent that it needs my immediate attention even when i’m packing up right?” his words dripped of pure sarcasm despite the polite smile hanging from his lips. everyone could literally see the panic swirling in his partner’s pupil.

“i’m sorry!! good work today and see you tomorrow!!” it’s the weekend tomorrow, but tsukishima was too hung up on his son’s attitude to shoot another of his sarcastic reply.

you, on the other hand, were neither someone who would celebrate such occasion unless it was for birthdays or holidays. therefore, you didn’t really had anything in mind nor were you expecting anything as well.

when you finally reached home from a tiring day at work, you were definitely not expecting to see your favorite cake on the table while your son popped a party popper with a party horn in his mouth right beside you.

“happy mother’s day!” he tried to mumble out with the horn still in his mouth. you couldn’t help but chuckle at the unexpected surprise, dropping your bag on the counter just so you could hug him—one that he wholeheartedly hugged you back because tsukishima wasn’t around.

it took an hour for tsukishima to be home, a small bouquet of flowers in his hand when he walked over to where you and the cheeky lad was sitting. “oh! you didn’t have to though,” you smiled in surprise.

“dad’s just guilty he forgot about our promise and didn’t want to come home empty handed.” you chuckled at that, perhaps it wasn’t entirely wrong either but you still appreciate the sentiment. it was rare for him after all.

“those who break promises don’t get desserts.” he continued to press his dad’s buttons, only to see tsukishima loosened his tie with an expression he could not understand.

“oh, but that’s on your mom to decide if i’ll get one tonight or not.” you could feel your face heating up at your husband’s words, the tone and smile that dawned on his face was a look you knew oh so well.

“tch...i thought i hid it well.” of course, your clueless son didn’t know the true meaning of those words and thought the strawberry shortcake he bought for his dad was found out.

sugawara kōshi

sugawara would definitely plan in advance with the children. especially when they were the ones who excitedly wanted to do something for you.

“mama like animals! lets go to the zoo!” the middle child exclaimed with so much enthusiasm, sugawara could only chuckle at her adorable smile.

“you only said that because you wanted to go to the zoo, dummy.” the eldest one huffed, feeling proud that he saw through her obvious tactic.

it didn’t take long for the two to start crawling over each other in a fight while the youngest one giggled amusingly as if she was watching a performance. that was, until an insult was thrown at her so she joined in the fight to prove her worth.

“if you don’t stop now, we’ll be celebrating at home like how we did the past two years.” that immediately ceased all action, since they haven’t had the chance to go out together as a whole family thanks to your busy schedule.

“how about the park? the cherry blossoms have bloomed and mama likes going to the park!” of course, sugawara was fond of this idea. it’s been a while since there was a family picnic session.

and so on that very day in which you finally managed to take a day off, you weren’t expecting to be blind folded while having your children guide you to wherever you were supposed to be.

knowing how clumsy the trio could be, he wanted to accompany them as well but was outright rejected when they said they could do it themselves with so much confidence, he wasn’t sure who they got it from.

with their tiny hands, it took a while for them to tie the piece of cloth around your eyes, and even when they did, it wasn’t tied well enough so you could actually still see your footing (which saved you immensely from all the accidental knocks along the way)

after what felt like forever, you finally reached the park where they shouted ‘happy mother’s day’ in unison. you kind of already knew it’ll be a picnic from the soft grass beneath your feet and those fallen pink petals, but you were still moved to tears when you saw your children squeezed together into your husband’s arms while cute decoration and plates of food were spread between you and them.

“mama, try the cookie first! i made them myself!” the middle one was the first to break the silence.

“no! try my sandwich first, i’m the eldest!”

“so what if you’re the eldest? mama must be thirsty from walking so have my ultimate happy berry juice!” the youngest chirped with pride, as if her logic was a straight pass to winning.

you laughed at their competitive nature, which was oh so endearing at the same time. and it was obvious if you don’t decide soon, an all out food war was going to happen.

“before that, shouldn’t mama receive papa’s present first?” sugawara’s cheerful voice interrupted their little argument, and just before the youngest could ask what it was, her eyes was covered by the eldest son along with the middle one.

you couldn’t help but hit his arm in embarrassment when his lips met yours longer than it should’ve been.

“hey! that’s not fair, i didn’t get to see papa’s present,” your middle one sulked, only to be carried into sugawara’s arms as he peck her little cheek with a wink. “why don’t you ask mama what it was, baby?”

oikawa torū

it was supposed to be a big surprise where he came home earlier than the date he had told you. he even told the kids about it and they promised to make it a success (money was definitely involved to be honest)

“make sure you delay mummy at the grocery store long enough for me to set everything up in time.” he reminded his daughter time and time again, only to have her sigh at his impatience.

“i think i’m old enough to not forget something so simple dad. and please stop addressing mom like that, it’s creepy.” she cringed, wondering how you even deal with oikawa every day.

“dad, have you even baked a cake before? do you think you can get it done within an hour or maybe two?” his son asked the third time that day, which did irk oikawa with that tone of his.

“of course i can! are you looking down on me? it’s just a simple vanilla cake and some fruits on top. how hard can it be?”

of course, with every rhetorical question that pose a challenge, there would always be an answer exactly of what’s to be expected.

you, with no idea that your husband was making a mess of your kitchen, took your own sweet time at the grocery store since your daughter was there to help and it’s been a while since you had a mother and daughter bonding time.

“do you think your dad would like to have curry tomorrow? or should we just have hamburger steak?” you asked, still unsure of the menu for a celebratory dinner.

“i think he would like anything you cook, so don’t worry about it. dad’s always so happy to eat your homemade meals.” she answered with shrug, but you could tell she was happy to rely the same sentiment.

everything went smoothly and she did managed to stall your time with her longer than the agreed duration. that was, until she received a text from her brother saying dad’s cake was a failure and they should just get one outside; you two were already at the apartment lift when she read it.

“dad, i think you should just give up. they are already walking over from the—” oikawa having enough of his son’s constant nagging about how he should’ve just bought a cake instead, threw a whiff of flour to his son’s face without thinking.

and of course, which kid would not retaliate from that. the kitchen, which originally wasn’t as messy, turned into chaos of white fluff and sticky childish banter between the two.

you, not expecting to see your husband, was clearly surprise when you heard his voice by the door. the only excitement that came from that vanished the moment your eyes fell onto the state of your kitchen.

“happy mother’s day?” oikawa managed to choke out when he felt your growing presence with each step towards him.

“i’m sorry mom, it was my fault please don’t kill dad—” your son pleaded softly by the side, only to fell speechless when you threw yourself into oikawa’s arms instead.

“welcome home,” you greeted with so much warmth, oikawa couldn’t help but embraced you tightly as he replied, “i’m home.”

“mom? you’re not mad?” your daughter asked in disbelief when she brought the groceries – including the ones you dropped – over to the kitchen.

“mad? why would i be when you dad’s sleeping in the kitchen tonight.” you were so serious and certain, the two broke into fits of laughter as they ran from their father (which was fertile because they got caught immediately and was tickled to tears)

“why are you laughing when you two are having a sleepover with daddy tonight.”

“please dad, just stop.”

kita shinsuke

there was no surprises because kita’s way of celebrating was just regular activities but doing it together. which was honestly, what you love to do most since you don’t always get the chance of spending weekdays with your family often.

from preparing meals to visiting town, usually it would be done by kita himself. however, this time because of the special occasion, you took time off to accompany your husband while bringing your little ones along with you.

“mama here’s the carrot,” your little girl placed the orange vegetable on the chopping board before humming a tune while the other twin helped kita with picking the ends of the beansprouts.

“papa are we going to town later?” she beamed excitedly, hands still working on the tiny vegetable while her legs swung to the rhythm of her twin sister’s melody.

“yes, we are. do you have a place you want to visit?” he was done with his side so he continued onto the pile his daughter was removing.

“yes! we want to go to onigiri miya!” they both said at the same time, giggling right after when their father looked surprise.

“all right, let’s go after our lunch.” and everything went along smoothly with the little twins setting the table together while you and kita took turns to cook up the dishes. lunch was pleasant despite minimal words being exchanged since the twins were taught to not talk with their mouth full (and their mouth are always stuffed full)

while you and kita held hands with the twins walking hand in hand by themselves in front, the feeling of nostalgia seemed to tickle your bones at the memory of how you used to take long strolls with kita during your younger days.

“what’s wrong?” kita tugged your hand gently which snapped you back to reality when you realized you all have reached the store.

“nothing...i’m just grateful to be your wife and mother of two beautiful angels.” your smile had him press a fluttering kiss to your temple as he softly replied, “me too.”

“i see yer two are still as lovey-dovey as ever captain.” atsumu popped his head out from the entrance, both twins sitting comfortably on his arms as he carried them as if they were feathers.

“i’m not your captain anymore atsumu, but i see they both seemed to like you.” kita smiled at his two lovely dolls, one that atsumu have never seen much of because of his busy schedule.

“of course, who do you think i am? the better—” but before atsumu could even finish his flex, the two snapped their head over at the appearance of osamu in his apron. their hands immediately reaching out for the man to hug.

“uncle osamu!!” they squealed happily, trying their best to squirm out of atsumu’s grip.

“i guess not huh ‘tsumu,” osamu smirked at the annoyed twin, patting his hands dry before prying the little twins from his brother’s vice grip. of course, they both would fight over the kid’s affection. who wouldn’t right?

you watched the pair of twins in amusement with your head against kita’s shoulder as he wrapped an arm around your delicate frame. this too will be yet another moment kita would not forget, for he felt blissful to be their father and your husband.

[arrowflier]

I absolutely loved your last ficlet, the one inspired by Take Me to Church (well, I love EVERYTHING you write), so I'm here with a thought that maybe you can turn into something:

What if, for some reason, Mickey has to speak in Ukrainian (your pick why, maybe directions to tourists or a phone call with a distant relative) and Ian witnesses it and just goes: 😳🤯🤤🥵😍, followed by "can you do that again when we're in bed"?

Thank you anon! Disclaimer that I do not know Ukrainian, so if google led me astray I apologize.

That Foreign Tongue

They were out in the rig, on their way to a pickup, when Mickey got a call.

He fumbled in his pocket to pull out his phone, frowned at it in consternation as it blared.

“Who the fuck?” he mumbled to himself, then swiped to decline.

Ian looked over as he pulled to the curb outside their destination, curious.

“What was that?” he asked.

“Fuck if I know,” was all he got in answer. “Not a fuckin’ Chicago number, that’s for sure. Not New York, either,” he added before Ian can check. Mandy wasn’t great at staying in contact, but they knew to answer if it looked like it could be her.

Ian shrugged, and reached back to grab the cash bag from behind Mickey’s seat.

“Sure it wasn’t Mexico or something?” he prodded with a forced casualness, and Mickey rolled his eyes as he shoved open the door to get out.

He met Ian around the front of the ambulance, and promptly poked him in the chest, hard.

“What was that for?” Ian asked, wounded, and Mickey clicked his tongue.

“For still fuckin’ fishin’ about that,” he told his husband. “It’s been two fucking years, let it go already.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ian huffed. “Sorry for wanting to know more about what you did down there that has people calling in the middle of the—”

“That was one time!” Mickey exclaimed, arms going wide. “One fucking time, and I told you what it was about! Roberto needed me to check on his damn kid, it had nothing to do with—”

“Well how was I supposed to know that,” Ian interrupted loudly, “when you were speaking a whole different language?”

“Oh, for the love of…” Mickey trailed off as he stormed away from Ian down the sidewalk.

He wasn’t really mad. They did this song and dance around once a month, still, ever since one of his old contacts had found him and called him up. It stuck in Ian’s craw that Mickey had had people down there, without him, even though, as he explained to him once, he was glad about it at the same time. They both knew it didn’t really matter—sometimes it just needed to come out.

Sure enough, Ian caught up with him after only a few strides, falling in beside him naturally. His cheeks were slightly flushed, but otherwise there was no indication of their brief argument.

Mickey gave him two minutes before he tried to smooth it over.

Ian didn’t last one.

“You know,” his husband started, reaching up to scratch at his jaw. “I’m just making sure none of those foreigners come up here and take what’s mine.”

Mickey snorted. “Yeah?” he prompted. “Think they’re coming for our jobs and our husbands, now?”

Ian’s lips lifted in a grin, their banter back on track the way they liked it.

“I mean,” he said, “I can’t really blame them.” He grabbed Mickey by the arm and brought them both to a stop right outside their drop, tugging him close enough for their boots to kick together on the pavement.

“A hot, red-blooded American man like yourself,” Ian murmured, getting his arms around Mickey’s waist. “You’re quite the catch, Mr. Gallagher.”

“Mmm,” Mickey hummed, leaning up to bring their faces closer. “That right, Mr. Milkovich?”

He was just about to follow it up with a good old-fashioned make-up kiss, when his phone blared again from his pocket.

“Damn it,” he hissed as he thumped his heels back down and dug it out again. This time, he answered it immediately.

“Whoever the fuck you are,” he shouted into it, “you’re interruptin’ something here.”

An unfamiliar voice came down the line, barely audible to Ian where he still stood close but with a clearly chastising tone, and the fight went out of Mickey in an instant.

“Prīvіt,” Mickey muttered, looking almost bashful, and Ian did a double-take. That wasn’t English, or Spanish…he had to try and listen in on a third language, now? When did Mickey even find the time to learn this shit?

Ian watched silently as Mickey listened to whoever was on the line. His husband had folded into himself, holding the phone to his ear with one hand and his elbow with the other, casting a quick glance up at Ian before turning his attention away again.

“Shcho novogo?” he asked into the phone, and then a brilliant smile crossed his face a moment later. “Dobre, dobre,” he said, then “vitayu”.

It sounded like the caller asked him a question, next, but Ian couldn’t hear what Mickey answered, his husband lowering his voice and turning his back. Ian tried not to let himself feel hurt at the sudden shut-out.

A moment later, the call was over with a quiet “do pobachenn'a”, and Mickey faced him again.

Ian wanted to ask, but he waited instead, hoping Mickey would explain. Thankfully, he did.

“So, uh,” he started off nervously. “That was my…like, my great-aunt or something?”

Ian could feel his eyebrows rising. “You have family you still talk to?” he asked, and Mickey shook his head immediately.

“Nah, not really,” he admitted. “But this one, she’s back in Ukraine still, guess she calls around sometimes to check on me and Mandy.” He looked down at the dark screen of his phone, lips twisted. “Been a couple years,” he added. “Didn’t think she had the new number, but uh. Guess one of my cousins just had a kid or somethin', so she wanted to catch up.”

Family was a touchy subject, Ian knew. So he went for the next obvious question instead.

“Ukraine? That mean you speak Ukrainian?”

Mickey just looked at him. “No, Ian,” he offered dryly, “I just thought I’d make some weird sounds and see if she could read my mind from across the fuckin’ ocean.” Ian didn’t respond, so he tacked on, “Yes, I speak Ukrainian. Sort of.” He rubbed his nose, looked away and back. “That gonna be a problem for you?”

It was a fair enough question. But this wasn’t like the Spanish, which was never really the problem anyway. It wasn’t a reminder of time they spent apart, or things he didn’t now. It was just Mickey. And Mickey's voice, and the way it rolled over those unfamiliar phrases so cleanly, so...attractively.

“Not at all,” Ian clarified quickly. Too quickly, maybe, because Mickey’s cautious look gave way to a slow smile.

“Oh, really?” Mickey said, apparently delighted. He grinned even wider when Ian felt his face flush. So his husband sounded hot in other languages, fucking sue him.

“Better watch out, man," Mickey warned. "I hear foreigners like me are out huntin’ down men like you nowadays.”

Ian cleared his throat, and closed the distance between them again. “And that’s a problem how?” he asked.

“Didn’t say it was, miy cholovik,” Mickey murmured lowly, raising a hand to grip at Ian’s hair once he was close enough. Ian’s breath caught at the soft look on his eyes that accompanied the foreign words.

“What does that mean?”

Mickey pressed their lips together once, twice, before pulling back just enough to answer.

“Nothing bad, moye sontse,” he breathed, and Ian shuddered.

“We have a job to do,” he reminded Mickey weakly, like he hadn’t been the one to start this. “You keep saying that weird shit, we’re gonna have to cancel all our pickups today.”

“You better make some calls then, miy kokhanets,” Mickey chuckled against his lips. “But first…”

He pushed Ian back into a convenient alley right next to their original destination, shoving until they hit the rough brick wall. Ian didn’t protest as Mickey started to tug at his camo jacket, getting the zipper down far enough to mouth at Ian’s neck.

“Ya tebe kokhayu, Ian” Mickey muttered against his skin, pressing tighter as Ian clutched at his back. “Let me show you how much.”

--

Hours later, at home, Ian asked Mickey what else his aunt had said.

"Oh, not much," Mickey answered, snuggling closer. "Wanted to see if we could catch a flight sometime, go visit the old country, that kind of thing."

"Is that something you'd want to do?" he prodded, and Mickey shrugged, shoulders moving against Ian's chest.

"I guess," he said, unconvincingly disinterested. "I'd have to teach you the language, though, none of my mom's folks speak English."

Ian's brain ground to a halt. If the day had been any indication, he wasn't sure he could survive language lessons with his husband.

But never let it be said that Ian Gallagher backed down from a challenge.

"Sure," he agreed, and he was sure of one thing when he felt Mickey smile against his neck--it was going to be the best worst decision of his life.

--

According to my admittedly poor research, Mickey basically says hi, what's up, good, congrats, goodbye, then calls Ian my husband, my sun, my lover and says I love you. It's most likely all horribly butchered because I only speak English and a tiny bit of German, if you know Ukrainian I would happily take correction.

[cj-sparkss]

hi! if your still doing the event, could i request gojo + 5? ty!

physical affection event

masterlists

a/n | ofc! hope u enjoy ;) warnings | none.  category | fluff  wc | 900+  pairing | gojo satoru & reader

physical affection event | prompt 5 (giggly cuddles)

“darling! guess who’s decided to grace you with their presence?” the door to your office clicks open, a loud and playful voice booming in the air, interrupting the once quiet space. you don’t even have to look up from your papers to know who it is.

you sigh, continuing your writing on the sheet. “satoru. what do you want now?” 

he doesn't answer immediately, instead silently striding over to your desk where you are working.

you hear his footsteps as he walks, but you stay focused on the work right in front of you, hoping that if you don’t acknowledge him he would get bored and leave.

but instead, satoru just stands right behind you, leaning over your shoulder to see what you are working on. “humph, can’t i simply just come and see my lovely sweetheart?” he asks.

you already know that he has his signature enormous grin on his face right now, and you can hear the mischief laced in his deep voice. 

“seems boring…” he mutters to himself, standing back up to his full height.  

“hmm, not when i’m trying to do my work.” dropping your pen, you turn around in your spinning chair, finally facing the white-haired shaman.

of course, he is wearing his famous blindfold, hair sticking up to the sky. you were right, the big smile is right there, planted smack on his beautiful face. 

you tilt your head, giving him a disapproving look “and of course it’s boring, but i still have to do it.” you fold your arms against your chest, looking up at him challengingly. “tell me, satoru, do you even do work? or is that too much for the strongest?” 

he scoffs, smile widening even more in amusement. “of course i do work, what do you take me for, hmm?”

you raise your eyebrows, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “do you really want me to answer that question?” 

“how rude. you’re always so mean to me sweetie.” he playfully sticks his glossy bottom lip out in a pout, crossing his own arms against his chest. 

you laugh, turning back in your chair to continue your work. “someone has to deflate that ego of yours.” you shrug your shoulders, picking up your black pen and playing with it in your fingers. “might as well be me.” 

satoru huffs in annoyance from behind you, letting out a whine. “so mean. i just wanted to spend some time with you, sugar. it’s so boring without you.” he places his hands on your chair, spinning you back around so that you are facing him. 

you roll your eyes, shaking your head at him. “but i have to work. maybe if some people did what they were supposed to...,”

you fake cough into your fist, murmuring a quick ‘gojo’ before clearing your throat and looking back at him, causing him to laugh at your antics.

you squint your eyes, “- i wouldn’t be here right now.” 

“i don’t know what you’re talking about, darling.” he repositions his arms, moving them to your chair’s handles, now caging your body in between.

smirking, he leans down so that his face is right in front of yours, noses almost touching, his hot breath softly fanning over your lips. “i missed you.” 

“i saw you an hour ago.” 

“an hour too long,” he whispers, tilting his face to the side. his body being so close to yours, his scent takes over your mind — sweets and candy — typical, but entrancing. 

as he moves in, your gaze trails down to his pink lips.

giving up on your banter, your eyes flutter closed in anticipation, silently waiting for him to kiss you —only for him to move to swiftly peck your cheek and pull away before the gesture even registers in your mind. 

your eyes snap open, and you see satoru standing there in front of you with a smug grin on his face, trying to stifle his stupid laughter, but failing. 

you shake your head, a scowl now present on your face. you glare at him as he dramatically laughs at your expression, wiping a fake tear from his eyes, that are literally covered by a blindfold. “you’re such a child.” 

“and that’s why you love mee~” he sings out.

you sigh, “unfortunately.” 

he only smiles before snaking one muscular arm under your thighs, and another behind your back.

you yelp as he easily lifts you up, latching your arms around his neck as if you might fall. “satoru! what are you doing?” 

“carrying you. is it not obvious?” he looks down at you, a mischievous grin plastered on his face as he takes his long steps. 

“that’s the problem!” 

you don’t get to continue before satoru reaches the grey couch, located on the other side of your office.

he lets the back of his legs hit the edge of the cushions, plopping down on the material, you following down after in his arms. 

he drapes your legs over his lap, wrapping his long arms around your waist.

you giggle as satoru places random wet kisses all over your face, kissing your eyes, nose, pecking your lips and cheeks. 

he pulls away with one last soft kiss on your lips, and you place your hands on both sides of his face, cradling his cheeks.

you look at him with a soft smile on your face, as he looks down at you with a lovesick smile as well, one reserved for you, and you only. 

“satouu,” you whine, calling him by his nickname, given to him by you.

giving him a playful kiss on the nose, you ask, “how am i going to finish my work now?” 

he leans down, resting his forehead against yours. “that’s a problem for another day, love.” he softly rubs his nose against yours, pulling you closer to his body. 

you glare at him, although the smile on your face says otherwise. “you’re an idiot.” 

“i’m your idiot.” 

“sadly.” 

“baby!”

[wornoutmouse]

Valentine's Day with Zora

I'm getting ready to watch black clover either when I finish Mob Psycho or when I finish that time when i got reincarnated as a slime. But based on what I've learned this nigga is an asshole for the most part. And that's how I wrote him. Low key kinda toxic

Idk how popular black clover is amongst the fanfic community but here goes

This would be your first Valentine in 6 years so why were you so damn nervous!? Well if anyone were to ask, it would be because of who your Valentine was. Your hands swayed as you placed each chocolate neatly in their heart shaped tray.

You weren't romantically driven, but you and Zora had been dating for 6 months and had yet to do anything nice besides roasting the dog shit out of each other. Zora was sweet for you, but would not hesitate to state his feelings which is something you thanked yet despised him for.

The man in question was currently in your room playing video games. Taking a deep breath, you summoned up all the courage you could find and shuffled your way to your target.

He was dressed casually, with no shirt and a pair of black sweats hanging low on his waist. His creepily sharp teeth on full display as he cursed at npc's. "Zozo..?"

Zora doesn't pause the game but he glances over at you briefly. "Yeah?" You roll your eyes and stand in front of the TV much to his annoyance, "Please pay attention to me." With an over the top groan, he paused the game and looked at you with an annoyed face.

"Happy Valentine's day!" You yell out and hold your chocolates in front of you with a bright smile. Zora looks down at them then looks back up at you with a concerned look on his face. "Oh for me? You shouldn't have." You pressed your lips together in a tight smile.

The tone that Zora spoke with really served to make you think that you really shouldn't have. Red eyebrows raised in acknowledgment as he plucked a square toffee from it's selected area. He observed it before popping it in his mouth.

"Real good, extravagantly stuck in my teeth now." Strike one you thought as your heart sank from the verdict. You should have thought this through. I mean, a sticky substance with shark like teeth is not the best combo.

You push your braids to the other side of your head as a nervous habit. "Well try the other ones." Zora's eyebrow twitched, you could see he really didn't want to. "Is there a reason for all this?" You huffed, "Yeah it's Valentine's day."

Zora popped a fudge centered chocolate in his mouth, "You celebrate that? I didn't take you for a hopeless schmuck." Strike two, you could feel your mood dipping to the less than happy stage. Zora sighed a little more, "I mean, what's next a card declaring your love for me?"

Strike three was immediate and you were glad you left your handwritten card on the kitchen counter. Your lower lip trembled as you wring your hands nervously. Zora seemed to catch on to the incoming flood and quickly raised his hands in submission.

"Hey, I didn't mean it like that babe, if you wrote me a card I would love to read it." You shook your head turning away as you could feel incoming tears forming. This would be the last time you'd try to do something nice for the bastard. Zora stood up and his normally comforting height only made you feel more pathetic.

"Don't be like that, come on, let me see it." Zora places his hands on your shoulders and herds you towards the living room. The sparkly envelope could be seen from a mile away the way it shined in the steel counter. Zora delicately picked up the envelope, wary of the glitter that fell when he opened it.

"Well would you look at that, I didn't know you could write in cursive." Zora tried to sound convincing but that is a hard feat when your permanent resting face is a cocky smile. Zora tossed the envelope when he realized his half-assed attempts were not helping in the slightest.

You sniffed harshly as you tried to wipe away your fallen tears. Zora tried to comfort you but you turned away with a huff, "What did I hurt your little feelings?" You ignored his attempt to playful banter and walked away. You could hear Zora following you into the living room and stood over you hauntingly as you plopped on the couch.

"How should I make it up to my baby huh? Should I go eat the rest of your candy?" You cross your arms and ignore him. Zora sat down next to you with a playful look on his face. "You want me to write you a letter back? What type of glitter should I use?"

The couch dips as Zora leans closer to you. The hate rates in your neck as you feel the tip of his nose running against your cheek. "Should I fuck you nice and silly so you forget about this stupid holiday?" You have to stop yourself from crossing your legs at such a bold sentence.

But that was Zora for you, can never be serious when it doesn't pertain to him. "Come on Y/n, you know I'm sorry. I didn't know it meant that much to you." You watched from the corner of your eyes as Zora takes a red braid and curls it in-between his fingertips. You had done it just for him yet he never commented on it.

You shake your head defiantly, "You ain't sorry, you just want me to stop being mad at you." An amused chuckle escapes Ideale's lips and you find yourself being pulled closer to him. "This must really be important to you huh?" You raise your head and look Zora in the eyes. He looks back before shaking his head.

You watch him stand up and head back to the room. For a while you felt your heart break from the thought he really didn't care about your feelings. The sound of his footsteps returning made you look again curious as the color black catches your eyes.

Zora places the box down next to you before taking a seat on the floor before you. You watch as he opens the box of candy with one hand, and places the other in your knee.

"Open your legs."

Out of habit, you do, and Zora takes the initiative to pull your pants down. You allow him to do so but remain quiet. It wasn't until you were bare from the waist down that Zora began to speak again. "You know I love you?" You nodded with a graceful eye roll, "Yeah I love me too."

Zora but down on your left thigh making you jump. "Don't be a little shit I'm trying here." A small kiss was pressed against your pussy lips as Zora pinched a small piece of chocolate from the box. They had begun to melt and he uses this to his advantage by rubbing it up and down your slit.

"Some chocolate on my chocolate." You exhale slowly as you feel the sick substance coating your sensitive skin. "That's corny as hell." Zora ignores you as he rubbed the remaining chocolate against your skin.

Once it completely dissolved, he covered your clit with his lips, licking the candy off lightly. It was a strange feeling as the melted chocolate dripped in-between your folds only to have his warm muscles following afterwards. "Do you forgive me?" "N-No."

Zora takes the time to clean your nethers fully of the chocolate in record time as you began to leak your own special nectar. Zora was a man of many annoying words and unsurprisingly he could put them all to good use when eating you out.

You could feel the threat of teeth as Zora left a wet kiss against you. Your feet flexed with electric pressure when Zora's tongue thrusts inside of you, stopping every so often to caress your clit one again. "You always feel so good against my face."

You pressed your lips tightly together to keep from making any sounds. Zora sticks two of his long fingers inside his mouth and covers them in his own saliva. A hitched moan leaves you as they are shoved inside without a care in the world.

"Oh so you can make noise?" You glared at your boyfriend as his bony fingers pumped inside of you. During each retreat of his hand, you could feel his knuckles bump ever so slightly against the top of your cavern. "You're a real dick you know that?" Zora laughs darkly, "Only for you."

A wide grin stretched across his face as you rolled your hips against his palm desperately. "Don't worry I'm going to start, just be patient." The feeling of his fingers spreading apart in a scissoring motion felt illegal as you feel yourself slowly stretching for him. "Faster!"

At that he pulls his digits out and allows his pants to drop. "If you're ready enough to request a speed adjustment, you're ready enough to take the rest."

Of course like everywhere else on him, his dick was long with an am dark red mushroom tip and at this point in time, extremely hard. "Happy Valentine's." He muttered, and as you pondered your retort, Zora focused on pressing the tip of his cock inside.

Contrary to popular belief, two fingers is not enough stretching for the average penis. So Zora got the glorious opportunity to watch your face contort from the full stretch of his cock. "If...this is your way of apologizing, you're doing a shit job at it Zora!"

Zora licked his lips as he looked where you two were connected. "You're as sharp as always huh?" Zora slips his hand in-between your many braids and cups the back of your head bringing you up for a kiss.

As he nudged his hips deeper, his tongue traced your mouth soothingly. To your shame you moaned into the kiss, encouraging Zora to try harder. Your lower bodies became one as you ravaged each other's mouths. "You're an ass you know that?" You mumbled when you separated.

Zora nodded as he focused on fucking you just right. Your hips were raised off of the couch forcing you to hold yourself up by your elbows. "I feel like you've forgiven me from how much your pussy is shaking." You grit your teeth still holding on to your bitterness, "I'm only going to cum because you haven't fucked me in ages."

Zora sighed and folded your body against the couch. "Can never take a compliment can you?" The couch creaked with each pump. Zora's legs were spread in a low crouch as he leaned over your limp body.

The feeling of being full and the heavy stimulation was welcomed as a hot orgasm goes through your body. Zora smirked as he fucked you though your high before pulling out and tucking himself back in.

You furrowed your eyebrows when you realised he wasn't getting himself off. "What about you?" Zora shrugged at your question, "That was my apology. Happy Valentine's day."

While you never got a genuine apology, you never did say anything when you found a peice of your letter in his wallet.

[by-nina]

A Cordial Invitation

AO3 | FFN Royai Week 2021 | Day 4 – Communiqué Rating: K+ (light drinking) Genre: Comedy/Fluff Word Count: 2,840

A/N: This fic takes place when Roy and Hughes are both still stationed in East City, before Hughes is transferred to Central—or in an AU where that happens, if that wasn't the case in canon. Brain empty, no thoughts but Royai. Screw canon. What's important is that Hughes is here. 😂

There is the briefest pause as Hughes leaps back, startled by the outburst, then he laughs again upon seeing the look on Roy's face. Roy can only shake his head in horror—what the hell does the man find so funny? Well, he might have laughed at this little comedy of errors himself if the situation weren't so ridiculously flustering for him. Instead, he is left to imagine it in sheer panic. R. Mustang. Riza Mustang.

His face is burning red.

———

MAES HUGHES, son of Thomas and Evangeline Hughes,

and

GRACIA EVANS, daughter of Rupert and Georgina Evans,

are delighted to announce their blessed and loving union come Saturday, the 25th of June 1910. The ceremony shall take place at Charlotte Hill, attended by their immediate family and beloved friends. Comprising their entourage are Mr. A. Armstrong, Mr. and Mrs. H. Elliott, Miss S. Garber, Mr. and Mrs. C. Marshall, and Mr. and Mrs. R. Mustang.

———

Five different people have congratulated Roy—two of them expressing mild surprise at his previously unknown marriage—by the time he comes across the root of his very confusing Friday morning. He reads the announcement in the paper thrice, flipping the page back and forth as if doing so might correct the error. When it doesn't, he picks up the receiver of his office phone, then replaces it and instead decides to see the man himself.

He passes by Breda and Havoc on the way out, but he isn't quite sure if they’re watching him because they know what's going on, or if they're just as puzzled as he is.

Two floors down, Roy raps away at the door of the Intelligence Division office. "Hughes," he calls out. "Hughes, I need to talk to you about—"

He cuts himself off, rubbing his temple as he realizes the pointlessness of his visit. It's at this moment too that Maes Hughes opens the door with that old, damning grin, the one Roy has known from Hughes' courtship with Gracia and all through their engagement. It's the grin that precedes the talk, as Hughes has annoyingly come to call it. Roy is ready with any of several retorts, such as—

"I don't have time for this, Hughes," or;

"Go bother someone else," or;

"Stop telling me to get married, I'm not looking for a girlfriend, leave me alone—"

But to Roy’s surprise, he doesn't find reason to say any of these today.

"What brings you here, old pal?" Hughes chirps in a tone that hardly suggests he has Roy's romantic prospects on his mind at the moment. Of course he doesn't—his wedding is just around the corner, and it's not like he's marrying Roy.

Roy opens his mouth, closes it, and sighs as he enters the office. He heads straight to Hughes' desk, where he drops his copy of the East City Times, folded open to show the incriminating page.

"Oh, you've seen the announcement!" Hughes is beaming. "I would've taken out an ad every single day after the proposal, but here we are! Can you believe I'm getting married tomorrow?"

"Thanks to your constant reminders over the past three months, yes, Hughes, I can," Roy says dryly. "But how come your announcement is printed like that?"

It's only then that Hughes realizes that an error, not excitement, brought his best man to his office. Roy manages to remain patient as Hughes leans over the paper, a finger trailing the announcement word for word until he reaches the end. Hughes then grabs the paper right up to his eyes and blinks incredulously, and his expression quickly changes. It’s somewhere between incredulity, hilarity, and exasperation—as much as a cheery man like Hughes is capable of, anyway. Hughes breaks into laughter and shakes his head.

"It's not funny, Hughes,” Roy snaps, but not quite. He isn’t so upset as to be eager to start an argument. “I've spent the entire morning wondering what the hell people were congratulating me for!"

"Oh my goodness, Roy, I am so sorry that this happened. I truly am." Hughes rubs at the side of his head, tutting in good-natured disbelief. "I can’t believe it, and on the day before my wedding, too! Ah, but I think I know what happened."

"Mm-hmm?"

"I went to the newspaper office yesterday over lunch, right? It was a last-minute thing because my beautiful bride-to-be doesn't really want too much of a fuss over our wedding. So, at their office, I fill out a form—"

"Mm-hmm."

"—and these announcements are usually short, so there wasn't much space on the form. I write down the date, the location, and then I start to run out of space towards the end as I'm listing the guests."

 "Mm-hmmm."

"So, the names are squeezed into the little space I've got left, there's the Marshalls, the Elliotts... and I suppose they assumed that you were a couple with Lieutenant Hawkeye."

"WHAT?"

There is the briefest pause as Hughes leaps back, startled by the outburst, then he laughs again upon seeing the look on Roy's face. Roy can only shake his head in horror—what the hell does the man find so funny? Well, he might have laughed at this little comedy of errors himself if the situation weren't so ridiculously flustering for him. Instead, he is left to imagine it in sheer panic. R. Mustang. Riza Mustang.

His face is burning red.

"No, no, no," Roy sputters, "this—this is serious, Hughes! Hawkeye is my adjutant, and if anyone from the top brass hears this and thinks—"

"Okay, slow down, Roy. Deep breath," Hughes says, gripping Roy's shoulders. "Let's be real. They're not actually gonna think that you would just carelessly break military laws. Ambitious youngster rising up the ranks after becoming the Hero of Ishval, who would suspect you? You know what else, they also think you're some kind of heartbreaker going on dates all over East City, up to Central—and her name isn't actually on the paper next to yours, is it?"

"But what—but—so why was it written like that anyway?"

"You’re right. Lieutenant Hawkeye is an important guest. I owe her an apology.” Hughes pauses in thought. “But while we’re on the topic, maybe you two should go together, considering how much she’s actually helped with your best man duties. You know what I mean? It shouldn’t be a big deal. Take her along as a companion, save yourselves the trouble of finding dates—don't play cool, I know you haven't invited anyone—it'll be more convenient for the two of you!"

Roy runs a hand over his face, now nearly out of things to argue about short of something more personal, something more selfish, more... honest. "I don't know what you're talking about, Hughes," he sighs sharply, interrupting his own thoughts. "All right, the announcement—it’s not your fault, we can let that go. And I’ll extend your apology to Lieutenant Hawkeye—”

“And take her as your date?”

“No, because she’s already invited anyway, so there's no reason for me to do that—and if I do, then I'd have to explain to people that I'm not actually married, and she—"

"Come on, it'll be no trouble. No one’s gonna think much of it!”

"I’m thinking much of it! It’s just not a good look.” Roy begins his way back to his own office, stopping at the door just to finish saying, “And I’m not dragging Lieutenant Hawkeye into your crazy ideas!”

———

“Lieutenant Hawkeye, would you like to go to Hughes’ wedding together?”

There is a brief pause when, all at once, Roy bristles with panic for the impulsive utterance, and mild surprise breaks through Lieutenant Hawkeye’s typically impassive face, and Lieutenant Hawkeye regains her composure as Roy watches and wonders what she actually thinks of the invitation, hoping that it’s welcome.

“I don’t think I could, Sir,” she says, deadpan, “Mrs. Mustang would be devastated.”

“What the—Hawkeye, you know I don’t have a wife—”

“Damn it!”

Breda bursts into laughter behind them, drowning out Havoc’s frustrated groan as the latter reaches into the pocket of his trousers, then drops a few coins onto the table where they have been working. Roy scowls at them, partly perplexed and partly exasperated by having to deal with the ridicule twice over. When Breda recovers somewhat, he explains, “We had a bet. Havoc was so sure you really were secretly married.”

“I was counting on it, okay?” Havoc grumbles. “I haven’t had a proper girlfriend since I started working with Mustang, no one will even look twice at me—”

“There you go,” the Lieutenant says as Havoc and Breda banter on. She continues sorting the reports on Roy’s desk into dated envelopes, having been momentarily distracted by his surprise invitation. “Any of Havoc’s girlfriends would be happy to be your date to the wedding.”

“Well, I just thought—I mean, Hughes suggested that maybe it would be more convenient for you and me—for the two of us to attend together.” Roy clears his throat when he realizes that his voice is quivering slightly. What is he so nervous about? He affects a smile to regain a casual confidence. “As colleagues, of course. Friendly companions in the entourage. That’s how all of this happened, there was a mistake with our names when they printed Hughes’ wedding announcement.”

The Lieutenant remains quiet, focused on her work. A moment later, Roy asks over the sudden, quiet thumping in his chest, “Are you… already bringing someone with you?

“No,” she promptly replies, eyes remaining on the reports before her. “I was just wondering what brought this on. You don’t owe me a favor for helping out with your preparations.”

The nervous thumping subsides, only to be quickly replaced by dull dismay. Never mind the idea of being each other’s date to a special occasion, or the imaginary scenario of being a couple. He and Riza—he and the Lieutenant have been working together for over a year now. He would like to think that in that time, they would have broken down enough walls between them for her not to think that everything they do or say to each other can only be strictly pragmatic. Roy certainly sees her in a warm, friendly light, not unlike the way he did as a boy. Surely she could at least not hold him at arm’s length after a year.

Roy finds it easy to be honest when he says, “It’s not that at all. And it’s not just because of what Hughes said.” A careful pause. “I think I genuinely would enjoy your company.”

He watches Riza carefully. No expectations, he reminds himself—and then he childishly proceeds to imagine all the ways that she could react to the whole situation. Roy lingers a little too long on the scenario where she might have imagined him with some mysterious Mrs. Mustang, then felt the relief of disproven jealousy when he explained what actually happened. No—it’s far too complicated an expectation for the time being.

She looks up at last.

“All right then, Sir.”

———

The Hugheses’ wedding is the happiest, most beautiful thing that Roy remembers witnessing in a long time. The ceremony proper and the reception beginning at sunset both take place in a pavilion overlooking a lake, awash in shades of gold from the table draperies to the twinkling lights and the flowers swaying in the breeze. There isn’t anyone in his opinion who deserves a day like this more than his best friend, which is why when Roy prepares to give his best man's toast that evening, he finds himself easily turning sentimental. He drains his glass of wine, then pours himself another just before beginning his speech.

Towards the end of the toast, he says, “Gracia, I have no words for how grateful I am that Maes met you, and that you’ve loved him through some of the most difficult times of his life. You showed him that it’s possible to be truly happy even when it might appear to be difficult or impossible.”

He draws a quick, sharp breath as emotion wells up in him. Laughing to conceal it, he quickly adds, “I’m sure he tells you that enough, of course, but I’m saying this now because you’ve also made the rest of us believe it. We all see it in him. And the two of you give us hope that it can happen for anyone, with anyone who can break down our walls.” Roy raises his glass towards the newlywed couple. “Maes, Gracia, may you be a home for each other for the rest of your lives.”

The modest crowd erupts in applause, accompanied by the clinking of glasses all around the pavilion and sweet, light music for the Hugheses’ first dance. Between the spirits he consumed during his speech and the infectious joy that fills the venue, Roy soon starts to feel lightheaded. He steers clear of the dance floor as the guests pair off and weave around one another, and it’s easy to spot Riza in the crowd from where he stands.

Riza sits at the far side of a table occupied by some of Gracia’s friends, chatting away good-naturedly with a drink in hand. She’s laughing, and what a sight she is on this night away from work, so relaxed and carefree, wearing a honey brown dress that brings out the color of her eyes. She should be dancing, Roy thinks; she should be enjoying this night, not just sitting back to watch it go by as if she had come here alone.

Well, some date he is.

It’s even more outrageous now, the idea of being Riza’s date to this wedding. Not that he knew what he was thinking even when he asked her to go together, but he never actually planned as far ahead as dancing or dining or anything they can do together now that he has completed his duties as the best man. Above all, this isn’t how he had pictured Riza to look tonight, so warm and friendly and beautiful—no, different from the one he invited to be his date yesterday. This is closer to a Riza he hasn’t seen in a long time, not since he left for Ishval, anyway. How does he even strike up a conversation with an old friend from a lifetime ago? What is he supposed to do?

Roy knows one thing—he will mind seeing her dance with someone else right now.

Gracia’s friends rise from the table after a while, leaving Riza by herself. By this time, Roy has helped himself to one, now another glass of brandy, and he isn’t sure whether he’s still on his feet despite the drink or drunk enough to be bold. He takes the long way around the venue to Riza. She turns her head when she hears him approaching.

“That was a very beautiful speech, Sir,” says Riza as Roy sits at the table, leaving one empty seat between them. “It’s a shame Mrs. Mustang isn’t around to hear it.”

Roy laughs, only now realizing that no one has brought up that gaffe since yesterday. “Well, shame it isn’t my wedding. But thank you. I’m glad you think so.” He breathes a deep, thoughtful sigh. “If I’m being honest, this is perhaps the happiest I remember being in a long time.”

Riza nods slowly. “I see.”

Without directly looking at her, Roy can tell that Riza is watching him, deep in thought. She takes a sip of her wine. After a long silence, she admits, “I haven’t been to a wedding in a while, myself. I’d forgotten it was possible for people to be this… happy. It hasn’t been easy to find things that make everything we’re doing worthwhile.”

The look on her face now is different from her usual quiet expression. There she is again, Roy thinks—perhaps she suddenly looks so much like her younger self because her thoughts have wandered to a much simpler time, before all the pain they went through together. Or could she perhaps have carried those thoughts in the back of her mind all along, never allowing herself to pay attention to them, but hoping she might find a place for them in the complicated circumstances they have found themselves in?

And in this moment, Roy realizes that more than remembering the Riza from his past, what he wants is to care for the Riza he knows in the present. To be a companion to her, and for her to return the favor; goodness knows how much they have needed each other all this time, and how much more they will need each other moving forward. Above all, she is someone he knows well enough to want to know better.

So, after a while, he quietly asks, “What are you thinking now?”

Riza smiles. “That what you said in your speech is true.”

Roy raises his glass, and she clinks hers against it. This is the first time in a long time that he has seen her smile like this, that Riza has smiled at him. It feels now as if he has been newly welcomed into her life, that at last—once again—she could trust him as much as he does her.

He rises to his feet.

“I’d hate for you to have just come to watch a speech, Hawkeye. Would you like to dance?”

[bearseokie]

boyfriend! oneus

[ gender-neutral! ]

oneus m.list | navi. | nsfw! bf! oneus (M)

Ravn:

selfie game, strong! between his insane visuals and like-minded camera angles, you're never let down by his pretty selfies that he sends you throughout the day. mainly paired with his chin to his chest while he's pouting and a silly caption.

if you think his selfies are good, the way he takes couple pictures? chef's kiss. you're never low on pics to post to social media or to put on your fridge. even the embarrassing ones, but he'll whine about those later.

matching onesies or couple pajamas.

walks up to you just to rest his chin on your head or shoulder and breathe you in.

holds your hand in the way that his entire hand envelops the width of your fingers while you hold on to his thumb.

asks for you to buy him flowers more than he gets them for you. you can't help but want to see his eyes sparkle at the sight of a dozen roses, though.

is probably biting his lip unwillingly but also on purpose. it's a habit you learn to enjoy. he does it when he's focused too, so you always know if he's paying attention or not. as confident as he is, he blushes when you call him out for it.

wraps his arms all the way around your torso and picks you up in a hug just because he can.

will see something out of the corner of his eye and make a whole circle to turn towards it. usually it's a gift of a random item he thinks you'll adore, and you always do. you'll gain a little collection of things you never imagined you'd own being with him.

genuinely not used to physical contact and tends to be rougher than he means to be. he's a temperate boy that has a habit of patting your head or kissing you a little too hard because he's in love and is still learning.

talks your ears off when you're alone. if you don't pull his beanie over his face, he won't shut up.

comes across as intimidating, but is literally the most considerate person. like he will physically reel you backwards just to gently push away an eyelash from your cheek and kiss your lips.

big pant, big shirt. aka his and your big pant and big shirt. sharing is caring. he gets butterflies in his stomach watching your hand caress over the clothes hanging in his closet as you search for something to wear.

unintentional - but completely intentional - lip locking. like he'll bend over to reach across your form laying on the bed when you’re distracted and he’ll be right in your face. before you know it, you're sitting up and your lips are colliding. especially loves doing this in public because your warm face is his rapid beating heart.

will admit to others how much he loves you but will be so stubborn behind closed doors. says things like "are you sure we're talking about the same person? me, wait— me? I'm in love with you? no— no, you're right. I'm guilty."

pouty boy with big, pleading eyes all the time.

runs his fingertips over the lines of your hands. you catch him mimicking them on his own and smiling like an idiot when they match.

take his flannels. do it.

late nights where he bursts through your door while you're sleeping and shakes you awake to run a few lyrics by you. always second guesses himself, but when he sees that you're actually taken back by the words, he gets all smiley bolts back to work.

snuggles into your pillow until you lay down with him, then you're his true cuddle buddy.

Seoho:

dramatically pulls his coats off to put over your shoulders. his constant body heat can warm you up immediately.

takes you on movie dates just to sit in the very back and have heavy make outs with you. like panting, fingers laced in each other's hair, bodies fighting to get into each other’s seats — make out sessions.

his! laugh! the way you can get him to laugh is definitely one of his favorite things in the world, and his smile could light up a room. also has the tendency to laugh at you even when you're not being funny.

pushes his face into the crook of your neck to fall asleep. his breath on your skin can make you feel weird and loved at the same time, but his sound sleeps are worth it. also pushes you to lay on your back so he can curl up beside you and rub his forehead against you.

more chaotic dates where he does things you're afraid of just to show you not to be so scared. hugs you like a koala for the rest of the day.

matching outfits like crazy. even down to the accessories. loves spoiling you with new outfits even if you tell him you hate getting gifts so often.

hugs your waist and lifts you up to reach something instead of getting it down himself.

will have the same pic of you and him set as everything. his phone’s lockscreen, wallpaper, his laptop’s lockscreen, wallpaper, profile pics, it’s the only post on his social media.

so in love that it can come across as icky. blushing cheeks, sweaty palms, a bounce in his step.

mocks you like you’re already an old married couple. but his loving banter comes off as charming.

the saying 'know you like the back of my hand' had to have been written by him, himself, because he does, in fact, know you that well. he knows the different sounds of your sneezes - aka whether you have a cold or not. he knows the change of your morning voice versus the tone you have in the middle of the day. anything going through your mind, this man has down pact.

random night calls where he just goes 'I'm at the door, let me in." because his hands are too full to reach for his key. stumbles in with bags full of snacks and treats just to have you both sit on the floor eating and ranting until dawn.

the softest kisses. and I mean the softest kisses. like michael angelo adding details to his paintings, type soft. you can hardly ever feel them and barely knows he's there until he starts laughing or vibrating from the sudden eye contact you're giving him.

would rather waddle side to side in a back hug than let you go to walk somewhere alone.

has a list of everything he loves to share with you over time. movies, music, random memos in his phone.

included in those phone memos are literally so many details about you that it can make your eyes roll. he has the smallest details noted and little asterisks to remind him to write them down in a physical journal one day, but you might have to do that for him.

a lot quieter than he makes himself out to be. is basically a ghost when you're around him. the only way you really ever know where he is is if he's lugging around a bluetooth speaker with music playing.

messy! hair! he will literally refuse to brush his own hair until you do it for him. loves it more if you just use your fingers to comb his locks.

squinted eyes because he's smiling at you so hard that he'll probably bump into something in the process.

lets you hold both sides of his face in your palms. especially if he's cold. sometimes you can squish.

Leedo:

being with gunhak — it is literally a love novel.

warm eyes that sparkle when he looks at you. you notice it and keep quiet just to bask in his affection, but it’s always the first thing people mention when they talk about your relationship.

can’t help but reach his hand across the table to hold yours while you eat.

scrunches his nose when you say silly things.

the most attentive person when you’re telling a story. will sit with his chin in his palm and his eyes going between your gaze and lips as you speak. makes constant “mhm” and “ohh” sounds to let you know he’s right in the story with you. stops you to laugh at the way you say a specific word. you both spend hours sitting somewhere together just telling stories back and forth until the sun rises or sets.

can’t go a single day without throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you around.

has his hand on your lower back all day. like all day. in public, at home, in bed while you're sleeping. as long as his hand is on your back, you know he’s next to you.

his face is always a hotter temperature than the rest of his body, especially if you’ve been looking at him all day. crimson cheeks, red-tipped ears, reddened lips because he can’t stop kissing you.

sleeps with you laying in between his legs and your head on his chest. you fall asleep to the beat of his heartbeat while he plays with your fingers and listens to your breathing.

puts you in the shopping cart before any items just so he can wheel you around and listen to you laugh when he pretends he’s going to ram into something.

will pull the shirt/jacket/top he was wearing over his head and toss it to you to wear or hug if he’s leaving so you don’t miss him too much.

isn’t extremely good with speaking words to express what he wants to say, so oftentimes you find little notebook pages folded around the house with love notes written on them. him telling you how much he appreciates how much you do for him. him saying ‘i love you’ in different colored ink in different kinds of ways. sometimes a smashed flower in between the pages just for added scents. completely a cheesy romantic with love notes.

likes to let you drive so he can put his elbow against the window and stare at you from across the front of the vehicle. while you’re focused he’s grinning and giggling because it’s ‘super adorable’.

sends flowers to your work at the most inappropriate times in order to keep anyone that’s been flirting with you in their place. very subtle about being protective, and thankfully never has to make large leaps to have others understand you’re unavailable. thinks it’s the best thing in the world when someone is eyeing you and you come running to him to dramatically toss your arms around his neck and place a kiss on his lips.

enjoys having cleverly matching pieces. a pair of earrings shared between the two of you. matching bracelets. soft cotton shirts you can wear on your days off. two blankets of the same designs but different colors.

severely embraces breaking his shyness when it comes to pda. will pull you into his arms and kiss you while walking down the street. lets you sit on his lap in a busy place. carries you on his back around big stores.

works out with you around him. if he wants to do sit ups, you're holding his feet. if he wants to do push ups, you're laying under him giving him kisses every time he comes down.

forehead kisses. temple kisses. cheek kisses. literally all of the softest kisses.

terribly difficult to wake up, but the sound of your voice will draw his lids to open in an instant so he can see your smiling face.

super nervous about the entire relationship so you have to guide him at a reasonable pace. hold his hand first, kiss him first, even say 'i love you' first, but he'll return it all in a beat after you express your love.

Hwanwoong:

would be the one to have that situation where you met by running into each other at full force and had to laugh it off despite how much pain you were both in. he does something like offer to buy you a drink as an apology and then he never leaves your side.

sits with him between your legs and his back pressed into your front so you can hug him around his waist and lean on him.

smells are a huge deal to him. hoards light scented candles and renames them with comic titles or references to your relationship just to make you laugh when he calls them out in conversations.

runs his fingers through your hair as a way of showing affection on a regular basis. if you’re in public, he’ll sneak in a quick kiss just because he isn’t huge on pda.

but not liking pda doesn't mean he won't cling to you behind closed doors. he can't go very long without brushing his skin against your own, even in a subtle way.

physically capable of making meals on his own, or with you, but he's too lazy. enjoy the take out! also huge on getting snack foods to feed you in a romantic way without it being intentional.

quiet. very quiet. he enjoys silence while holding you or waking up in the midst of the night just to hear you sleeping peacefully. it's his solace.

although he gets whiny, he will let you do anything you want to him. test out makeup looks on him, play with his hair, make him dress up for you. just as long as you can reciprocate by going on sweet dates with him or let him read his favorite stories to you, he's all for it.

gets you random, very personal gifts. his attentiveness is insane, so he'll give you something like a better-formed pillow to help you sleep or a journal of your silly inside jokes to keep around when you have to be apart.

pretends he's not emotional during the day only to spill the deepest things to you at night. you're his diary and he loves you for that.

but with his distant state, you're still the one to notice things first. if he's too tired, if he's hungry - you know the tell-tale signs and can quietly get him back on his feet. you’re basically his weakness and muse all at once.

he might be the last one to wake up, but that's just because he enjoys knowing you slept by his side all night.

tilts your head to the side to kiss you because he thinks it's romantic.

doesn't care who you think you are, he will give you a piggyback ride.

does that thing where you'll be doing something important and he'll be sat next to you whispering jokes into your ear to keep you from getting stressed. also has to hold your hand the entire time or else he'll get up.

intuitive to your emotions and feelings. if you're in pain somewhere, he's in pain. if you're laughing, he's laughing.

the most pleasing, deep morning voice ever. doesn't even have to try. it's like two octaves lower than his regular voice and will always give you the shivers.

instead of big things for dates he does tasks like have all of your house chores done when you return or studies up on your school work to help you out. it's his way of showing affection and appreciation. but he does bigger things too like cover your bathroom in flower petals with a nice bath running when you get home.

has a tendency of saying your name the most when he’s sleeping.

makes choreography and dedicates them to you all the time. will tug you into the practice room to show you moves. but then he's giggling uncontrollably and starts complimenting you until you kiss him.

Keonhee:

records everything all the time. has backup storage just so he can film everything you both do or take a thousand pictures. spends literal hours printing out the pictures to make photo albums or put them on his wall so he never has to go a moment without seeing you. carries around a physical, mini album just to stare at while he’s traveling or feels lonely.

loves showering with you. will take the showerhead off of the wall and hold it over you while making lightsaber sounds.

loves the sound of you saying his name more than anything. when he's happy, upset, angry - just a call of his name can settle his emotions. and maybe a kiss too.

will sit or lay somewhere and just stare at you with a big, goofy grin on his face and loving sparkles in his eyes for no particular reason.

claps your hands together before he holds them.

makes music playlists titled with hysterical names that are more distracting than the chaos of the actual list. names them with emojis and such to see if you can code his secret love messages.

his lips are always redder than normal around you. quite literally doesn't know when or how to stop kissing you.

cannot comprehend how he could love someone more than you. it's that dumb love like he'll trip over his own two feet, say your name instead of his own when ordering something, or even intentionally get something he hates just because you like it.

changes the color of the led lights to define the mood. happy, sad, sexy time. the room is a rainbow every week.

contrary to popular belief of the cancer man, he's not clingy until you tell him to be. postpones all physical contact to the last moment when you ask why he's distant and give him consent to holding you whenever he wants. then he never lets you go.

has to be even in height with you ninety percent of the day, even if you're off by a few centimeters. helps you sit on the kitchen counter, hunches to kiss you, lifts you up by your waist.

being on opposite ends of a room while he's doing hand gestures and silently singing you the song stuck in his head.

his most genuine habit is giving away all of his emotions in his eyes. one glance and you know exactly how he feels, even if he isn't speaking about it aloud.

thinks being out in the rain is extremely romantic but will pull you back inside at the first drop because "you might get a cold".

hardly wears clothes when he starts getting seriously comfortable with you. no shirt, maybe some pajama pants, maybe some socks with random patterns on them. if he gets hot at any point, shield your eyes.

pouts without actually pouting. you'll hear a little huff from beside you instead.

put your belongings into the rips of his jeans instead of his pockets. they're 'safe'.

visibly shudders when he gets to hold your hand after a long day.

so many shoulder kisses you can't even keep up with them anymore.

you have a collection of him scrunching his nose when you're trying to get soft couple pictures because he can't take it seriously.

Xion:

if you fall asleep on him at any point during the day, he'll wrap you in his jacket or a blanket around you and carry you to bed. he'll let you rest comfortably while he lays beside you and watches you sleep while running his fingers across your face in a loving way.

sleeps holding your hand no matter what position you're both in.

dates are basically: carnivals to sit at the top of the ferris wheel and make out peacefully, picnics in the park to pick flowers and put them in your hair, going to bookstores just to shuffle through the comics and mangas.

bites you. slowly. he’s not the type to just bite into your skin randomly, more like you’ll get big puppy eyes and know he’s up to something before you feel a little nibble.

competitive in an ‘i’ll let you win if you give me a kiss’ way. guess who always wins. sike it’s him because he can use it as an excuse to make you pouty and then kiss you until you can’t even pretend to be angry anymore.

loves singing to you and only you.

hand-makes you jewelry because he finds it more endearing than buying them. plus it's sentimental.

hates blushing in front of others, but you can make him blush from a few words. loves the pet names you come up with. they sound like common conversation pieces so no one questions why you said them until they notice his face is nearly crimson.

unintentionally does romantic stuff. plays ballads over a speaker while prancing around until you take his hand and dance with him. finds a rose bush and gently clips a single flower to put in a vase for you. absentmindedly kisses your knuckles when he sees you for the first time in a while.

has the hardest time showing emotions, but does have the tendency to cry when parting or send you chain texts about how much he misses you when he's away.

random cheek kisses throughout the day.

sweater paws because you're both wearing his large hoodies and holding hands.

has more soft objects than you've ever witnessed a person own. now they're partially yours, so choose a stuffed animal.

random store dates where you go inside and find the strangest items you both fall in love with and get to put on display at home. you know when you go to someone's house and see an object that makes you question how it got there? he gets a lot of those for the two of you. 'conversation pieces', he says.

remembers cheesy quotes to tell you throughout the day to make you smile. if he wasn't in love, he'd never think twice about memorizing them.

probably thinking about kissing you every second of every day, but he uses his kisses wisely.

steals your shirts to sleep with when he's away because they smell like you.

cannot handle more than holding your hand in public at first, but he'll learn to love pda very quickly if you enjoy it.

where has all his phone's storage gone? oh, they're just pictures of you sleeping.

so adorned by you that his eyes literally sparkle, even if you're in his peripheral.

[delaber]

Could you do like a short piece where Daveed and reader are a thing but not really a couple. And he ruins it by not wanting more but comes back and apologises. Thanks!

Title: Stepping Up

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x Reader

Note: Thanks anon! First time I’m writing Daveed. This was fun and challenging.

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: mentions of sex. Slight angst. I think that’s it but let me know

"U up?"

Two words and a question mark. That was all it took and you felt your heart start pounding in your chest. Your feet started moving around, unable to stay in one place. You had to shred the duvet, you had started sweating. Two words and a fucking question mark and he could make your body betray you. Two words and you were ready for him.

You had to actively remind yourself that you were in withdrawal. That you couldn't hit him back no matter what. That he hadn't treated you the way you deserved. That he was fine and sweet and wonderful - but a dick nonetheless.

Still, it was hard to resist temptation. If you finally allowed yourself to text him back he would be here in a jiffy. You needed it. You missed him. And suddenly everything came rushing back: Daveed's athletic body the first time you'd seen him jump around on stage, his smile as he had introduced himself to you, his teasing manner as he had thrown around millions of jokes to you and the rest of your cast-mates. How you had already fallen for his wicked charms by the end of the first rehearsal. How you had flirted desperately to get him to notice you, and how he had finally pulled you backstage and kissed you in secret. It had all lead to a daring affair between the two of you, Daveed fucking you roughly every day in between rehearsals and later in between shows. His long fingers curling inside you while you moaned his name, the taste of him on your lips, his demanding movements as he took you in various positions all over your dressing room.

And no one could know. Not even Jas or Leslie or Oak. Daveed had made you promise not to tell - that this was your personal thing. You had agreed and said 'of course' right before he had hoisted you up beside the powder room mirror and slid into you. At first, the sneaking around had been nothing but arousing - you one hundred percent condoned it; your only goal back then had been to keep fucking Daveed in your costumes, the blue revolutionary jacket always open against his toned chest, but as the weeks proceeded, you felt yourself wanting more from him.

You wanted to be able to snog him senseless every time you saw him. You wanted to intertwine your fingers with his in public. Treat him to dinner. Take him home. Watch movies on lazy Sundays. Run your hands over his abs in your own bed. Waking up to find him covering your body with kisses.

But Daveed had said no. That he didn't want those things. That he didn't want to engage in anything serious with someone he worked with. That you were just co-workers who helped each other relieve some of the stress that the highly demanding job craved. Nothing more. In other words, you deduced that you were his stress ball - and you got angry! You yelled, and you threatened to kick him out of your dressing room, and you even threw a small lipstick at him, but his chocolate brown eyes were so sweet and so kind that you eventually felt yourself nodding along to his arguments of how the two of you could mess up the entire production if you started dating and things didn't work out. You sighed and you nodded and you agreed with him. And not even ten minutes later had he pulled off your panties, bent you over the couch, and dropped to his knees behind you. A lousy way to make up for it.

You had let it continue like this for eight months until his contract finally ran out and you were no longer co-workers. You had been looking forward to this. On his last night at the theatre, Daveed had stumbled into your dressing room in his Jefferson robe. The door behind him had barely closed before he had ripped your corset open, his warm fingers immediately rolling your nipples they way he knew you liked it. He had pressed his pelvis up against you and whispered in your ear that he had been hard on stage all night, patiently waiting for the show to be over so he could come see you. And you had decided that now was the time; slowly, you had turned around in his arms with a smirk and you had asked him out seeing as you wouldn't be working together anymore. You had thought it was a sure thing. But Daveed had pulled down your pants mumbling "My contract's in effect until tomorrow," right before you had felt his tongue on your skin.

"So what happens if I ask you again tomorrow?" You'd panted as his tongue was joined by his fingers.

"It'll still be a no," he grinned up at you, apparently unaware of your aching heart. He was a good man. If he knew the effect he had on you, he would've either stepped back or stepped up.

"And what happens after tonight?" You'd asked.

"We keep fucking," he had grinned with a content sigh as he spread your legs apart.

That was five weeks ago.

Now you had endured five weeks of Daveed constantly texting you that he was stressed, or hard, or thinking about you. Five weeks of him sending you dirty texts explicitly describing what he wanted to do to you. Five weeks of you ignoring him completely.

And now you were staring at his text consisting of two words and a question mark, contemplating if a small toe-dip into your old addiction was such a catastrophe. You felt your phone buzz in your hand as another text from him ticked in: 'I know you're reading my texts. Please stop ignoring me I miss you.'

You almost choked. In the year you'd known Daveed this was the most sensitive he'd ever gotten with you. You read the second text over and over and over again contemplating what to do; text him back? Call him? Or keep ignoring him?

In the end, you decided to call him up. He needed to be told of. He answered before the fourth ring.

"Hey," he almost whispered.

"Daveed," you let out a sigh, "you can't keep texting me."

"I know. I know I'm sorry," he mumbled, "are you mad at me?"

"Of course I'm not mad at you," you said quietly, "but things can't go on like this."

"I know... Are you in love with me?" He said abruptly but in a soft voice.

You went completely quiet when you felt your heart ache. So he did know about it. He had managed to put two and two together... "it isn't fair of you to ask me that," you almost whispered, "you know I am."

Daveed went quiet too and you could hear his steady breathing on the other end of the phone line. After a couple of seconds he finally said, "can I come over?"

"I'm not sure it's a good idea."

"Please. I have to see you. I want to apologise properly," he groaned painfully, "can I please come over?"

Unable to resist him, you breathed a short "yes," and ten minutes later opened the door to him.

"Hey," his face curled up in a smile the minute you came into sight. He stepped closer to you, and pulled you in for a soft hug, "you look cute."

"Yeah, well thanks," you mumbled against his neck. You didn't want to reciprocate his compliment even though he did look awfully cute too.

He followed you to the living room.

"Whiskey?" You asked him.

"Nah, I gotta stay sober for this," he shook his head.

"Sober for what?" You asked quietly.

"I - ehm - I wanted to apologise. Like a man," he looked at you with a firm gaze, "I've been a dick and I've been treating you badly."

"Yeah," you nodded and folded your arms across your chest, "you've been acting like an ass. When did you realise?"

"It's embarrassing for me, but I honestly didn't realise before you started ignoring me. I was so used to having you around me all the time, and suddenly I missed you like crazy," he took a deep breath before he continued, "I was so sexually frustrated that I called a friend back home in California and told him about it all. I thought he would agree with me and call you stone-cold or something like that but instead he called me an idiot. He called me out for the way I've been treating you. He made me realise why you wanted to ask me out. I didn't even realise. I'm very sorry."

"It's okay," you said softly, "I know you didn't mean to."

"Good," Daveed nodded and looked like a schoolboy who'd just been scolded and you suddenly felt bad for him.

"I didn't mean to ignore your texts. After your time was up at the theatre, I wanted to keep seeing you - it was just too rough. I had to back off."

"I'm glad you took care of yourself. It's made me realise some stuff about myself that I want to change. I want to be better."

"And how do you plan on doing that?"

"Let me start by making it up to you," he smiled, "tomorrow's Valentines day. Let me treat you to dinner. Give you the proper date you deserve."

"I'm not going on a date with you just because you're sexually frustrated and you know I'm an easy fuck," you huffed.

"No! Never! But how about going on a date with me because I like you and I want to see where it could go?"

You shot him a look.

"I understand if you don't believe me but in the past couple of weeks I haven't just missed having sex with you. I've really missed... you. The goofing around, the banter, your infectious laughter. I want to treat you to a date. Let me take you out."

You looked at him suspiciously, "romantically?"

"Yes. Rafa was right. I have a crush on you too. Let's see where this goes."

A small smile crept onto your lips, "okay. If you're sure."

"I'm positive," he grinned and pulled you in for a hug, "fuck I've missed you."

@ramp-it-up

[cherryhanji]

all the love, hyunjin.

oneshot. hyunjin x jisung, hyunjin x female reader

genre: college au from the onset, high school au, neighbors au, tinge of fluff, angst

words: 2.8k

warning(s): super duper slight mention of alcoholic drinks, and nothing heavy at all except for the extreme trashy plot twist pfft, italicized words are in present times

•••

alexa's note:

y'all its good to be back after a month(?) of not writing hihi, good thing that my fam @districtninewriters decided to hold a valentines' event for their writers! Go check them out here! make sure to read my fellow writers' entries coz u won't regret it, they're amazing as hell!

•••

_____

It feels so good to be back home (even tho you went back last christmas but only for two days). Three years are too much and you missed staying for long at your childhood home. This time, you'll stay for a week so you will do everything with all your might while you're at your parents' house. And one thing from the list is to clean your room. Though you are aware that your parents sometimes clean it. But since you were here, it's time to declutter all the things that are no use for you.

You started by cleaning your closet, removing all the clothes that you don't need anymore. Bringing out all the ones you needed when you come back at the dorms. While rummaging through your clothes, you saw the brown box nicely placed at the bottom of your closet. You forgot that the box was here since your closet was stuffed with clothes. A smile crept up on your face as you grab the box. That box contains all of unnecessary things that you kept from your high school years.

You sat on your bed as you open the box, completely forgetting that you have things to do as soon as you open it. Torn pages from notebooks, folded papers, pictures, arcade tokens and random stuff are inside. Smiling as memories rush back everytime you see a specific stuff. The smile that was on your face eventually disappeared when a pink folded paper caught your eye. You picked the paper up and opened it. it was the letter from your neighbor, your bestfriend hyunjin. remembering how you felt after reading this letter from him.

•••

y/n. it's hyunjin.

i know you know why i made this letter. but if not, well i just joined our school's event. this is nuts and unexpected. but i guess this is the right time..? or probably not but i think of this as an opportunity. so why let it slip?

i know you'll be weirded out, and i'm expecting it tho. but pls don't worry. you don't have to do anything. i just want to give this to you so you can be aware of what i'm going to tell you.

•••

you suddenly remember that he made this letter because of the foolish idea your school came up for the valentines' day that time. it was when you were all in your ninth grade, almost 6 years ago.

•••

"So how many letters are you going to give to Jisung?" your friend, Ryujin asked as she fiddled with the letter she received from someone.

"Ryu, I already told him that I won't give him and he understand. And please, couples aren't required to do it. We already know that we feel the same for each other, so why bother? Jisung knows how special he is to me." You said, frowning at her. you already told Jisung about it. It's not that necessary and it won't affect your relationship, like it was such a shallow thing to do.

"Your annoying bestfriend's outside." Ryujin said and pointed at the door where you saw Hyunjin.

"I'll just go to him. Go read that letter with all your heart. Maybe they're the one for you." You said and gave her wink which made Ryujin roll her eyes at you.

"Hey stupid." You said as soon as you approached Hyunjin who pinched your arm jokingly.

"Hello too, my stupid best friend. So what are you up to?"

"You were the one who went here and you're the one asking that? I'm gonna ask that to you, what are you up to?" You said making Hyunjin silent, but the boy just rolled his eyes at you. What's with people and they keep on rolling their eyes on you?

"Whatever. You busy? Just wanna ask you to go with me to the mall. My treat." He wiggled his eyebrows at you and showed her mother's credit card.

"What the-- did you just stole your mom's card again? Wait let me tell her--" Hyunjin tapped your arm when you tried to get your phone from your pocket. He looks like he's the type of guy who wouldn't do it, but you've known him for years and he can be a sneaky rat sometimes.

"No I didn't- I asked her okay? And she let me because she knows I'm with you. She likes and trusts you so much she lets me use her card for our mini-date" He said and wiggled his eyebrows at you. This kind of banters are normal between and it doesn't really affect you, tho sometimes, or you should say, you used to feel moved by this kind of retorts from him. this means nothing to you now, as you said so to yourself.

"Okay, okay fine. But Jin, Uh, uhm. Jisung already asked me a while ago, and I said yes. So I might not be able to join you with your mini-date. Sorry." It's obvious that his expression changed into something that made you feel somewhat guilty.

"Oh, why did I forgot about that? Okay, nevermind. Enjoy your date then." He said and flash you a smile, and you can really tell that it was just a facade. But you decided to brush it off.

"Why don't you ask Ryujin? Seungmin? Felix?" You decided to suggest, since the three are his friends too.

"Uhm, yeah. I'll just ask them. Good luck with your date, by the way. I know Jisung will make you happy, especially it's your first Valentines' date together." He replied making you grin like an excited kid.

"Don't smile too much, you look ugly, remember?" He retort making you glare at him. He's back with being a mood breaker. He is really your best friend.

"Whatever, you look ugly too, you know that? Anyways, I need to go already, maybe Jisung's waiting for me. See you tomorrow then?" He nod before bidding each others' goodbyes, a little pained knowing that you won't join him for the first time on Valentines' day. Every Valentines', You and Hyunjin have a tradition of mini-date every Valentines' after school. Treating each other foods, but mostly Hyunjin was the one who always spends since "he proposed this idea to you" which you immediately agreed because Hyunjin's so fun to be with. But after rejecting him for the very first time, makes you a tad guilty. But he understand it, right? Yeah, he understands it.

•••

You had a nice and special day with Jisung. It feels surreal, because you were able to celebrate Valentines with the person you like, the guy who cherish you with all his heart. Jisung is a nice guy, and you'll do everything not to hurt him. He has a special space in your heart. The guy you're sure who will stay with you no matter what happen. Like Hyunjin.

You shook your head when Hyunjin suddenly passed by on your train of thoughts about your boyfriend. Hyunjin is different, he is your best friend, your confidant. The guy who you grew up with and also has a special space in your heart. But they are utterly different. Jisung is Jisung, he is your boyfriend. Hyunjin is Hyunjin, your bestfriend.

"Y/N! Y/N" You went out of your trance when you heard your mother calling your name downstairs. You just got home from your after school Valentines date with Jisung, and you must admit, you feel giddy, extreme butterflies took flight in your stomach. Everything was just perfect for you.

"What is it, Mom?" You went downstairs and saw your mom at the kitchen.

"Hyunjin's outside, calling for you. He's outside, I'm letting him in but he said he won't stay long, he just need to give you something. Go to him, don't let him wait." Your mom beckoned you to go to Hyunjin, you checked the time first and its already 7 in the evening, what's with him?

You saw him standing outside, looking edgy, making you baffled. Your "hey" made the boy jump a bit and flash you an obviously nervous smile.

"What's up? Mom said you'll give me something. What is it?" You said as you approached him, the higher the proximity, the nervousness he feels also increases. But why?

"Uh, hey. Uhm yeah. I'm gonna give you something. Uuhm- here it is." He gave you a folded pink paper with his trembling hands. You attempt to open it but the guy moved faster.

"Please open it after I leave. Please?" Your eyebrows knitted and nodded slowly, agreeing with the way he prevented you from opening the letter, making you more confused.

"So what's this all about, Hwang Hyunjin? Is this some sort of prank? A blackmail?" You said joking. Hyunjin just gave you a sheepish grin, completely lacking of words to reply to you. The answers are inside the paper he gave you. So what else would he say to you?

"No. Just promise me that you will open that one when I leave, okay? So, I'm gonna leave now. See you tomorrow?" Hyunjin bit his lip, bidding his goodbye to you before he sprint out of your sight, didn't dare to wait for your response. You just rolled your eyes and shrugged, examining the paper he gave you. But there's a sudden strange feeling crept inside you, didn't have an idea why and where it came from. You went back to your room and decided to read the letter there.

•••

Just promise me one thing. don't you ever dare avoid me after reading this. but maybe i'll understand it if you do. i am not insensitive you know?

yep, i like you silly. i don't know when this whole thing started. i swear, it's like wow, what's this i'm feeling? do i like y/n? oh yeah, i like her. i see and feel things differently when i started liking you, but not in a creepy way! i'm not that kind of person! it's like even if you're just doing those normal things like you always did back then, it feels more special, bizarre. is it always like this if you feel something romantically towards that person? or am i just overreacting? whatever it may be, that's what i felt.

remember when you slipped on the hallway because of the slippery wet floor, good thing i was with you and i am able to catch you, then you told that you really can't live without me? maybe for you it just casual, just a friendly banter, but for me? not gonna lie, it made my heart jump out of my chest. and luckily my face don't blush that too much, you're not able to see how affected i am with that. there are more, but i won't write that anymore. It won't fit in this goddamn piece of paper!

•••

Did you expect this? Absolutely not. But you wished he told you sooner, sooner so you won't feel any regrets now. He likes you, but do you still like him? You definitely don't know. You already have Jisung, but do you think that reason is enough? Your mind is rambling with thoughts. All you were aware of is you used to feel the same way for him. But is it still here? You really don't have an idea. Why does it have to be late?

Hyunjin is the type of person who you will easily like. With his bubbly, sometimes slow-witted (yeah he is) but caring and loving persona, you'll just eventually love everything about him, no wonder all girls from your school are after him. And you are an example of it. Having an advantage as a best friend. You are lucky that you are one of the women he treasures the most. And you are grateful for it. Too grateful that you started growing feelings for him that exceeded the line of being just best friends. It lasted for about two years, you know you were too young back then, but it's Hyunjin and you know how much he cares for you. But soon you realized that he's just being like that since you are his best friend. So you tried moving on, thoughts of telling him about what you feel passed your mind but didn't have enough courage to do so. Now, knowing that he feels the same way too, made you feel somewhat regretful. You are mad, just mad. But do you have any rights to be mad at Hyunjin? Actually none. Guy doesn't even have an idea you like him too. This whole situation is so much frustrating than you've ever imagined. You never want this to happen, no one wants. Now, you have no idea what to do, with Hyunjin's feelings. He did mention that you don't have to do anything, he just wants you to know how he feels, but it's like something inside you was telling you otherwise. What are you gonna do now?

•••

you know, you've been my bestfriend for years ever since you live in this neighborhood, and i am so grateful for that. i am grateful enough to know you, grateful enough to be a bestfriend that is always by your side. So please, please don't say sorry if you don't feel the same way. i just want to tell all of this to you, because i can't always keep this secret. i needed to vent it out. i need to tell you. so that i won't regret it in the future.

i can see how happy you are with jisung. and i am not planning to steal that happiness from you. what kind of friend am i if i'll do that? i know you too will last, i can feel it. but don't forget me, yeah? i am still your bestfriend, your neighbor, and your best boy.

all the love,

hyunjin xx

•••

You were thankful that Hyunjin stayed by your side after all those happened. He accepted that he won't stand a chance anymore. You tried and tried, to get rid of those feelings left you have for him and luckily, you did. You were happy with Jisung.

You picked up another folded paper, this time it was a letter you made. For Hyunjin. You planned on giving this to him, but you soon realized that all your feelings for him are much better left unsaid. You don't want him to feel remorseful just because he didn't tell you what he feel sooner.

You heard the doorbell rang, immediately jumping out of the bed, thinking that it was your parents.

"Coming!" You shouted as you run your way down the stairs and greet the person from the other side of the door.

"Mom? isn't it too earl- Oh." Your rumblings abruptly stop when you saw who is the person, are the persons outside your home.

"Hey Y/N! how are you?" Ryujin greeted you and envelope you with her warm bear hug, a smile automatically creeping up on your face, as the other people flash you a smile.

"I-I'm good. How about you guys? Come in, come in!" You said and let them inside your house.

"I'm definitely fine! These two? I don't have an idea." Ryujin said as he rolled her eyes at the two, making the other guy frown.

"Don't tell me you two fought right before going here?" You asked the guys nod in unison.

"Exactly, because he almost declined from going here. What a brat, didn't you miss your best friend?" Jisung said making Hyunjin sigh in defeat.

"I do! It's just that I am not in the mood to get up from my bed. Our very entitled professor just rejected my proposal that I worked for almost two weeks, just wow." You can't help but to laugh at your best friend, he really did not change, so dramatic ever since.

"You know, you just need a date. You're depriving my best friend hm? Maybe Jisung's not being a responsible boyfriend I think, do you agree Ryu?" Ryujin sneered and nod in agreement, making Jisung groan.

"Am not! He's the one ignoring me these past few weeks, and you'll pass the blame on me? What a sweet best friends you are." Jisung babble making you all laugh.

"Well, don't fight now, please? Let's just all catch up with our lives. What do you guys want to do?" You suggested.

"Pizza delivery and soju please! I need that" Hyunjin suggested and you immediately agree.

"Gotta go upstairs and grab my phone, be right back." You said and run upstairs to get your phone.

You bit your lip and realize that you still have an unfinished business in your bedroom. You just shrugged and tidied the box, storing the letters back and putting it back inside your closet. For now, you just want to catch up with the people you cherish.

•••

oh my, this is my first time writing a scenario involving member x member pairing, tho not the main pairing, but i rlly hope u like it🙃

- alexa

[saphie3243]

First Solstice

For my Secret Snowflake @tomtenadia

Nesta spends her first Solstice sober in Illyria, unable to bring herself to brave the inner circle celebration for a second year in a row.  

Word Count: 5500+

Read on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28297182

There  was something soothing about a room being so crowded it became hard to breathe. Better still when the music was so loud you can’t hear yourself think. Best when bodies are grinding, booze is flowing, and something to smoke is being passed around. Everyone was here for the same reason, everyone wanted a distraction. Amren had made several comments that she couldn’t believe Nesta got males to go home with her when she smelled like sweat and a distillery. She apparently didn’t understand that everyone smelled the same at places like this. 

The band was better than usual. The music was… actually good. Maybe that’s why the bar was extra packed today. Or maybe it was because Solstice was tomorrow and no one wanted to think about all the ways they’ve disappointed their families this year. 

Disappointing. The male she dragged into the bathroom was just that. He wasn’t even worth the time she wasted not getting another bottle of wine. She didn’t even let him finish before booting him out and stumbling back to her favorite stool. The bartender knows her by now and has mulled wine waiting. 

It’s warm and more mulled than wine. She nodded to him. They know how to take care of her here, she certainly spends enough. Leo is decent enough to warn her off of the less than savory types that might be interested in more than even she was willing to give. She sighs back into the glass. Why she felt the need to judge herself when tomorrow she was going to get 5 times over from Feyre and insipid little family was why she needed another glass. 

She turned around in her stool, facing back out, watching the crowd move in a formless mass. This band had changed over. The new one wasn’t nearly as good. Several months haunting bars and clubs to all hours in the morning had provided Nesta a proper sampling of Velaris’ bands, and, in her mind, gave her a liberty to criticize as she saw fit. This crater-faced crooner was pitchy and couldn’t move a room if he winnowed them. That earlier one had a woman out front. She was unusual for a Fae. She was beautiful, yes, but she wasn’t the wispy waif most fae women were. She was tall and built, covered in a layer of extra fat that filled out wonderful curves and jiggled when she danced. But that wasn’t what made her remarkable. Her voice took your heart by the ears and pulled you into the emotion she wanted you to feel.

“Weird compliment, but I’ll take it.” 

__

“Lor-Cass said you weren’t going home this year,” Emerie placed the breeches she was folding into a pile of identical wares. 

“I didn’t go home last year, either,” Nesta swished the black liquid in her cup as she reviewed the ledgers. Last Solstice only served to remind Nesta how much of a stranger she was to her own family, to Feyre’s new one. She would never be able to call that debacle “going home.” This year, however, she could avoid Velaris. Being banned from the city meant Feyre no longer had the ability to force her into attending farcical family meals, no matter how pissy she was about it. 

She closed the books with a sigh and placed them back into a drawer. “Numbers look good.” 

Emerie moved her pile of pants over to their shelf. “Thanks for looking over them, I haven’t had anyone to check my math since dad.” Nesta nodded and pulled out the books and notepads Emerie kept hidden with her accounting ledgers. 

She leafed through to the furthest marked page. “You didn’t get much further last night,” she commented. 

“Ah, no time, had to process a big shipment.” 

“It’s fine,” Nesta muttered. 5 words underlined. Not the most, not the least. She reviewed the best-guess at the words definition in Emerie’s notebook. Most were correct. She added pronunciation guides next to some. “Macabre means bloody, gruesome.” 

“Why is there an R in it?” 

“Because the gods are cruel.” She heard Emerie’s answering laugh. “You’re doing well though. We can probably move on to actually writing.” She didn’t really think it would be that hard for Emerie to learn to read and write. She ran this business - she was clearly whip-smart, just uneducated. It could easily be remedied.  

“In the meantime, can you answer the orders?” 

This little arrangement worked out nicely. Nesta lended her books and made her literate, meanwhile she would help out with store correspondence and would review the books. Reviewing the books was less about checking Emerie’s math - that she had a natural understanding for - and more about making sure each transaction had sufficient notes. 

She took another sip from her night-black liquid. The best part of Illyria, in her mind, was this coffee thing. It didn’t grow locally, needing a warmer climate for the source plant to thrive, but it had become a staple in the tribes as a way to keep troops moving with minimal sleep. Hot and bitter, it really shouldn’t have been as pleasant to drink as it was, but she found herself unable to stop. 

“When does Lo- Cass head down south?” 

“He should be meeting everyone Solstice morning and be back the day after.”

“What are you going to do?” 

Stare at the liquor bottles he filled with water to tease me.  Drink my weight in coffee and stand outside Devlon’s house at 2 am sending waves of power over the door to fuck with him until some asshole walks by and works up the balls to ask me back to their place - or die of exposure. Whatever’s first. 

“Not sure, why?” 

“Would you… I don’t know… want to spend tomorrow with… me?” Emerie had approached the table, tapping her fingers with each phrase. Nesta looked her up and down. If it was anyone else, she would have thought Cassian put her up to it. But she was also alone for the holidays, and Nesta knew that was probably a much bigger deal for the Illyrian than it was for her. She had mentioned once that she didn’t have many people since her father died. Adding in that Emerie didn’t do anything she didn’t want to do... If she was asking, it was because she wanted to spend this day with Nesta. 

She smiled at her friend, “Come over whenever.” 

___

Dinner was hot and ready when she came in. Cassian always made sure that their meals were piping. His own way of combating the awful wet cold of Illyria. She had to wonder if part of it also had to do with keeping the fires low in the house.  

Nesta kicked off her boots by the door and carried them to the fireplace. She set them down next to Cassian’s - the secret to warm feet, he’d said. Their coat rack was also by the fireplace for similar reasons. She gently felt the socks left hanging there- warm, thank the Wall. She pulled off her damp knits and left them in a pile on the floor while pulled on the fresh clothes. They went up to hang immediately after.

“Do you need to take every peg? Emerie’s store is only 5 minutes away,” Cassian called from across the house. He was standing in the kitchen with two bowls of stew. 

“Five minutes flying, 25 walking,” she turned to him. “Through a foot and a half of snow.” 

She pointed to the bottom of her dress and the crust of ice that had formed there. He grimaced. 

“I would have picked you up if you asked.” 

“Unnecessary.” She pulled the dress over her head and left it to hang on the coat rack. After months of living together, they had long overcome the initial discomfort with mild nudity. Not that she was anywhere near naked. She still had the chemise that ended at her knees, her wool sleeves, her knitted belly warmer, and a double layer of wool hose. She was more covered than either Amren or Morrigan on any given day. Finally in only dry clothes, she marched over the kitchen and took the bowl from Cassian. 

Four months of living with Cassian in Illyria was… surprisingly easy. The mountains were peaceful, simple. The way of life here is more similar to the human society she grew up with than the magical speed of Velaris. Emerie was a pleasant discovery. She still wanted a drink, desperately, but the biting cold had a similar numbing effect if you stood out in it long enough. The worst part was being dragged out of bed at dawn for “training”. Though her training was less about learning to fight herself and more about standing around the training rink terrifying males while Cass tried to teach little girls to throw a punch. 

Coincidently she hadn’t gotten laid in 4 months either. 

“As much as I love seeing you in your underwear, you do have very nice, very warm leathers.” 

“Bite me,” she said as she shoveled food in her mouth. She had made it this long avoiding putting those damn things on. She wasn’t going to cave now. No matter how much imagining the fur lining made her whimper. 

He smiled down at her, making a point of flashing his teeth. “Gladly.”  Whatever mischief was running through his thoughts cleaned itself up as he changed subjects. He was the other surprise. The animosity between them was turned down to a polite simmer. Oh they still bickered, and they flirted. They never said it, and God willing never would, but any edges of disgust in their banter had long been smoothed by fondness. “Az will be picking me up at 7 tomorrow. If you change your mind about coming with me, be ready to go then.” 

“I won’t,” she answered, choosing not to tell him that she would be spending the day with Emerie. 

Surprisingly, he didn’t push. 

“Oh good, you’re up. I’m making breakfast, if you want.” 

__

Nesta woke up in a bed that was far too clean to be her own. Her head ached, her throat was dry, and she was naked. She sat up and took in her surroundings. This room was not hers. She had less furniture and more piles of shit everywhere. She was trying to figure out how she got there when the door opened and a woman came wandering in. 

Nesta recognized her as soon as she spoke and finally recalled the night prior. She was the singer for that band. They chatted each other up at the bar for hours, getting progressively drunker. By the time the bar closed they stumbled home - going to hers because it was closer. They jumped each other as soon as the door closed. It was a new experience for Nesta, being with a woman. And it was good. The singer sounded as lovely when she came as she did when she belted. 

Staying for breakfast would be nice. Something real in her stomach to soak up the alcohol was very needed. And if she played it right, there was a chance for as lovely a morning as there was a night. 

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute.” 

Nesta waited until her partner had left the room before she pulled on her dress and snuck out the window. 

Lovely wasn’t what she deserved. 

___

No training didn’t mean that Nesta didn’t wake up at first light. It just meant she didn’t need to get dressed. Part of the initial torture of first arrival was learning that Cass put her in an east facing room with larg windows on the walls - and refused to let her have curtains. Privacy apparently wasn’t as important as making sure she didn’t have oversleeping as an excuse.

She swore at the sun, as she did every morning, and felt around in the bed next to her. Before getting out from under the covers, she pulled on her fluffy robe. This little trick she learned back in the hut. Sleep with the clothes you’re going to wear if you want them to be warm in the morning. 

She trudged out to the main room and kitchen, beginning the process of preparing breakfast. Another rule of the house, if you are up first, you cook first. Same for dinner and coming home. Lunch they were on their own. There was a housemaid when she first arrived, but… she didn’t last long. She found the tea kettle and set about making hot water while she poured oats into bowls. From their icebox - a box they just left sealed outside to let winter keep cold - she pulled out a package of cured bacon. The kettle whistled, and she used the entire batch to steep the coffee. The next round of water was for the oatmeal.

The shadows between the windows grew and darkened. Before he even stepped out, Nesta greeted him. 

“I’m making coffee. Get a cup if you want some.” 

“Thank you. I’ll take bacon, too, if you don’t mind.” 

“It’s Cass’s money,” she answered, adding three more pieces to the griddle. 

Azriel was the only one from Velaris that visited with any sort of regularity, mostly due to how closely he needed to work with Cassian. He would come up about once a week for updates or meetings or to winnow Cass somewhere. He had begun to make a habit out of arriving early to chat with Nesta. Sometimes he just came up to hang out with them. He probably only came up to spend time with Cassian, but since she was usually around, they included her.

No one else from the Inner Circle bothered to visit. Rhysand and Feyre came up once, but that… did not end well. Elain felt too guilty to come see the sister whose banishment she had consented to. Morrigan wasn’t even on the island, so it wasn’t a surprise she didn’t stop by. And Amren… Amren was keeping her vow to not speak to Nesta until she apologised to Morrigan. Something Nesta still didn’t think she needed to do. 

Morrigan spent 4 nights a week at a gay bar. How the fuck was Nesta supposed to know she wasn’t out? 

“Elain asked me to bring this,” he conjured a set of books and hand-knitted socks into existence, placing both onto the table while pouring himself a cup. The books were tied together with ribbons and decorated with small bows, clearly meant to be her Solstice present. The socks - well, Elain had taken up knitting sometime in the last year and had Azriel deliver a pair every time he visited. 

“Why didn’t she just ask Cassian to bring it back with him?” Nesta scooped some brown sugar into her oatmeal. 

The ever so slight blush on his cheeks told her what his answer did not. “She wanted to make sure you had a present for the holiday.” 

“Because she knows how much I care about holidays,” and it had nothing at all to do with you leaving from her room this morning and it seeming convenient at the time. They wanted to be discrete, and Nesta accepted that - no matter how bad they were at hiding it. She poured in the hot water into her breakfast and stirred. “Any messages with that present?” 

“The bacon looks done.” 

“Azriel.” 

He sighed. “No.” 

Nesta tightened her jaw and moved the bacon from the stove to a plate, allowing him to have a piece. She wasn’t sure if she was more pissed that he didn’t have a message or that she was still hoping he would. Either way she was going to play it off. “I’m surprised they didn’t have you hock me about going, too.” 

Az cocked his head. “Cass made it pretty clear you weren’t ready for that.” She snapped up at him. 

“And what was his barometer for knowing if I was ready?” She sneered. 

But Az only shrugged, well accustomed to playing referee for Cassian and Nesta by now. “You not wanting to go.” 

__

Nesta was still thinking about Azriel’s answer by the time Emerie came over. She couldn’t decide if Cassian was being a presumptive ass or if he was being genuinely considerate. He had a habit of being both interchangeably. Like when he finally made his way to the kitchen, fully dressed and demanding breakfast. He added in some last minute jabs about coming back early if she got lonely as Az winnowed away with him. And even through the mocking tone, the message was clear. “If you don’t want to be alone, just say the word and I’ll come back.” 

He still didn’t know she was spending today with Emerie then. 

“Do you not own any decorations or do you just not like them?” she asked, looking around the room. 

“What decorations?” Nesta strained in her thoughts, there was a lot of extra shit in Feyre’s living room last year… 

“Solstice decorations.You know, candles, holly, garlands,” Emerie explained. It sounded like what Feyre had up - and what most of Velaris had up -  but in all honesty she was not sober enough last year to make the connection that it was for the holiday and wasn’t just some seasonal nonsense. Emerie squinted at her and placed a wrapped box on the table. Presents! 

Fuck. That’s right. Fae exchange presents on the Solstice. 

“I honestly don’t know.” 

Emerie squinted at her. “What do you mean you don’t know?” 

Nesta shrugged. “Humans don’t have holidays.” At most they had festivals, but they were distinctly not holidays, just an excuse to drink and dance with as many strangers as possible. The closest thing they had to a formal holiday was Treaty Day, and even that was not the intimate affair this seemed to be. She hadn’t even heard of a Solstice dinner until Feyre asked her to go last year. 

“How do you not have holidays?” she asked. 

“Holidays used to be very dangerous days to be human.” There were plenty of horror-stories around the suffering of human slaves on religious days. Whether they were being traded as gifts or killed as sacrifices...  even if the stories were exaggerations, it led to whole-sale rejection of everything religious by human society. 

“So you know nothing about solstice?” Emerie placed a hand on her hip. 

“It is the longest night of the year.” 

Emerie made it her mission to instruct Nesta on the finer points of an Illyrian solstice. First and foremost, every 5 years it was the last day of the Blood Rite. The theme of doing battle still continued in the other years, most tribes had hunts or tournaments for the men to mark the occasion. Women were expected to work the day to prepare for the night. The night of the Solstice was the only true peace Illyria ever saw. Solstice nights were for feasting, music, and dancing. Fighting after dark was strictly forbidden. Gifts were expected between families, friends, and especially rivals. It symbolized an acceptance that though Illyrians may compete with one another, they were still members of one army. 

“Does this tribe have a tournament?” Nesta asked. Cassian hadn’t mentioned anything about it, or a feast afterwards, but he might not have thought her interested. Or ready, she thought ruefully.

“Devlon hosts a melee tournament. Puts all the entrants in the ring together and waits to see who comes out. The large feast at the end is prepared by entrant’s families,” Nesta knew she meant women in those families, “For the entrants and their families. Dad didn’t enter, so we would just watch the tournament and then spend the night at home.” 

“Do you want to watch the tournament this year?” 

“Yeah but you’re still in your pajamas,” Emerie laughed. 

She watched by the door as Nesta dressed in her warmest clothes. Watching men fight on her day off wasn’t exactly Nesta’s idea of a good time. But Emerie wanted to go. And Cassian had tried to make the decision of whether or not she should go by not telling her about it, so that in and of itself made her want to go. Because neither were entering, and certainly neither were cooking, they wouldn’t be able to attend the feast after. But that’s just as well. A night back at the house with hot drinks and Cassian’s pantry seemed just fine to both of them. 

The tournament took place in the training rings. Normally the 5 or so rings were roped off from one another, allowing different ages and skill levels to train separately. But today Devlon had taken down the separators, providing an obnoxiously large space for his melee. But it was needed. It seemed every one of Devlon’s soldiers signed up for the tournament. About 200 competitors, ranging from small boys to grown men. There were even some father-son pairs helping each other warm up in the ring. 

Outside the rings, there was yet another crowd of voyeurs. Women and girls taking breaks from their preparations to watch, the merchant families - like Emerie’s, and the men too old and frail to compete anymore. Standing at the head of it all was Devlon, a poor-man’s Cassian. He caught wind of them walking up and immediately flared at the sight of Nesta before turning back to the tournament. Being a witch in Illyria had certain perks. Devlon’s apprehension being only part of it. The crowd parting for them, allowing them to stand at his side and have the best view, was another. 

“Soldiers!” Devlon called as he stepped forward. All 200 men turned to him at attention, well trained by now. “You know the rules. No siphons, no weapons, no flying, no killing. You fall, you’re out. You yield, you’re out. You get knocked out of the ring, you’re out. The last men standing at sunset wins.” He raised his arm in the air, making it visible to all. He took one last look around the ring, took a breath, and dropped his arm and stepped back as he bellowed, “Lay on!”

The chaos was immediate. One of the younger kids, there without a father to hold them up, fell immediately. The rest were at each other's throats, kicking, punching, wrestling. Part of her was worried that the battle-royale would be too similar to the war. But without the clang of steel and the geysers of blood, she found this was more similar to the crowded dance halls in Velaris. Devlon, now standing next to the girls, kept his eyes on the mock-battle as he spoke. “I thought you’d be with Cassian today.” 

“And miss a battle royale? Honestly Devlon, do you know me at all?” She smiled at him, relishing how he flinched at her grin. “Can’t help but notice none of the girls are competing.” 

His jaw tightened. “The Solstice melee is not training. It’s tradition.” 

“Now you said the same thing about the girls training, too, did you not?” Nesta had no interest in ever learning how to fight herself, and didn’t really care if girls trained or not. But there was a difference between choosing not to do something and not being allowed to do something. 

“If Lord Cassian wants to insert his views here as well, he should be here to do it himself.” The harsh words were undercut by the bead of sweat racing down his cheek. He wasn’t wrong. That was part of the reason Cass was stationed up here full time. Changing the rules around women required full time intervention. In Nesta’s mind, it also required more input from the women, but that was a discussion for another time. 

“Maybe next year,” Nesta yawned. She watched the battle progress. After the initial early eliminations, they had plateaued into a minor stalemate. Some alliances also became clear. Groups of friends or families fighting together, watching each other’s back, catching each other before they fell. She didn’t cheer as the crowd or Emerie did. Rather, her and Devlon seemed to be the only calm people there. 

Then… something odd happened. One of the teenage boys fell suddenly. He didn’t seem to get hit particularly hard, for one. And secondly, he didn’t get back up. Both Devlon and Nesta leaned forward, looking closer. She saw it first, sniffed it out. Blood. The boy had been hit in the side and was bleeding from the wound. 

“Devlon,” she said very carefully. 

“I know, I didn’t see who did it.” 

“We need to get him out.” 

“His friends will get him out.” 

She held her breath, watching. No one came. She hadn’t been watching him particularly, but she didn’t remember him teaming up like the others. The way they walked around him… “He doesn’t have friends,” she snarled. Even Emerie gulped as Nesta’s anger stirred the well of her power. Cass told her stories. Back when the shakes and cold sweats were unbearable, he stayed up with her and told stories, trying to distract her through it. Trading one dark truth for another. She told him about watching her mother die, he told her that he was alone for years until Rhys. A bastard that was left to fend for himself, potentially to die if he wasn’t strong enough. From the way they walked over this kid, he was the same. She needed to get him out of there. He was bleeding out and no one was doing a damn thing about it. 

“We cannot interfere with the melee,” Devlon said, “it’s against the rules.” 

“So is weapons, but someone clearly has a knife,” she spat. Devlon didn’t say anything to that. He just kept scanning the make-shift battlefield, searching. “There!” he shouted, and his green siphon flashed. Another teenager was plucked into the air by his wings. He kicked and thrashed, a small knife in his fist. Devlon pulled the kid to him, releasing his magic’s grip and decking as asshole as he got in range. The boy went down with just that one hit. 

But the first boy was still out there. He was still bleeding out. Alone in a crowd. He was going to die. He was going to die in this little mock battle where killing was strictly forbidden. Was this why Cassian didn’t tell her about it? Did he have holidays like this? Did older boys gang up on him and try to kill him without anyone noticing? Was he left alone to bleed on his own? 

“Nesta!” 

Emerie’s voice was farther away than it should have been, and muffled by a crowd of idiots fighting with one another. She wasn’t entirely sure how she got here, but Nesta was standing over the fallen boy. As they registered her presence, one by one the soldiers stopped. “The witch.” “It’s the witch.” “Why is the witch here?”  She ignored them all, kneeling down to the injured. He was pale and grimacing, having lost a lot of blood - still losing it, actually. The knife had gotten him just below the ribs, catching who knows which organs. Without another word she picked him up, allowing his head to rest against his shoulder and his body to rest on her torso. 

She turned back to Emerie and Devlon, one watching with concern, the other pissed as hell. She stepped towards them, slowly, carefully. She didn’t want to jostle the kid’s injuries more than necessary. No one came near her as she walked out of the ring. At first she thought it was the same as the audience, that they were simply afraid of the witch. But a glance around gave her a different answer.

Her power extended around her in a sphere, creating barriers of ethereal flowing silver. The grass around her withered and died, and no man here wanted to see what would happen if they touched the walls of silver flames. When she got to the edge of the ring, the rope touched her power and rotted to nothing. She didn’t know how this boy still lived in her arms, but he was still breathing- barely. She spoke to both Devlon and Emerie. 

“He needs a healer.” 

“I’ll find Marta and have her meet you at the house.” 

Nesta nodded to her friend and turned to walk the familiar path to Cassian’s house, her power dying down as she crossed the threshold.

__

Marta arrived at the same time she did. They set the kid down on the kitchen table as the old woman got to work. The boy did get stabbed, but only in the liver. It took longer than Nesta would have thought, certainly longer than the battlefield-healing she remembered from the war, but Marta was able to stabilize him and stitch him up. She left them with instructions to make sure the boy didn’t get infected or pop a stitch in the night. 

“Not how you planned to spend the Solstice, I’m guessing?” Nesta asked. 

Emerie tilted her head, “No but seeing every warrior in the village piss himself is worth it.” She slumped down on the couch. “We have a moment, want to open your present?” she gestured to the box on the table. 

“Y-yeah, just let me grab yours.” Nesta ran back to her room. She grabbed the stack of books Elain bought her, still wrapped from this morning. Definitely a faux paus, but she would never know. 

Nesta came back out with the present and set it in front of Emerie. “Happy Solstice.” The look of awe and excitement was worth it. As Emerie began to untie the books, Nesta began to unwrap her present. Under the paper was a long, thin box. She unlidded it to find a set of leather and wood hair pins - Illyrian style hair pins, made to not get cold in winter. 

“Thank you,” she said, still admiring the etching on the leather thong. 

“I’d thank you but, I think mine goes to Elain.” 

“What?” Nesta whipped her head up to see the first book open on the table and Emerie holding a hand written note. She was clearly reading it but let Nesta snatch it from her anyway. 

“So should I let you borrow the books or-”

“Shush.” Emerie laughed and paged through the first novel as Nesta read the note. 

Dear Nesta, 

I know you are still upset with me, and with Feyre, for sending you away. And you are right to be upset. You were there for me, after the Cauldron and after Grayson. You held our family together after Feyre left. And when you needed us, needed me, I didn’t know how to help. 

I don’t know if it is the power or just my own knowledge of you, but I knew there was nothing I could do. I knew that if I tried to help, I would only fail. And that is not an excuse. Fear of failure does not make not trying ok, but it is what I did. And I am sorry. 

I know putting this in a letter hidden in a book is still the coward’s way, but I don’t think I could face you if I didn’t apologize first. I hope to have Azriel take me for a visit after the Solstice if you would have me. 

Your sister, 

Elain

___

They stayed up most of the night, playing cards, reading, and watching over the boy. Nesta had planned to stay up the full night, but using her power that day and waking up at 6 am had taken its toll. She found herself drowsing into her cards. Around 3am, Emerie sent Nesta to bed, agreeing to stay up and keep watch. Nesta’s head barely hit the pillow before she was out. 

She woke in darkness. Not odd for her. Waking up in the middle night was fairly common. But when she looked to her window, she saw that it was not night. There was sunlight shining behind the makeshift curtain someone had thrown over her window. She pushed herself up. Who? 

“You’re up.” 

She turned her attention to the chair on the other side of her bed. Cassian sat there, watching over her with an indecipherable expression. She sat up.

“When did you get home?” 

He ran his fingers through his hair. It was down and knotted, unusual for him. There were bags under his eyes. “Last night, before dawn. Az brought me back,” he brought his hands together and looked at her. “Emerie told me what happened. You lost control again.” 

“How’s the boy?” 

“Petros is fine. I moved him to my room to sleep off the rest of the potion the healer gave him.” 

“That’s good.” 

“No, you couldn’t,” his hands gently reached out and lifted her face to look at him. “Why couldn’t you?” 

Cassian moved to the bed, sitting next to Nesta. “You lost control for him.”

“I-I couldn’t just let him bleed out,” she explained, staring at a spot on the bedspread.

Because he reminded me of you. She didn’t know if she said the words out loud or not. But Cassian’s answering kiss was so soft, so gentle, so sweet, she didn’t care. She responded to his kiss in kind, her hand cupping his face, finally feeling those perfectly chiselled cheekbones. His tongue passed over her lower lip and she opened for him, inviting him deeper. She met his tongue with her own and wrapped her hands around the back of his head, pulling him closer. He grinned through the kiss, gently placed his hand on her shoulders, and pushed her back down on the bed. 

It was the first time Nesta stayed for breakfast after.

___________

Tagging potential readers:

@perseusannabeth

[kyber-kisses]

What About Y/N?

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: spoilers for season 14, blushy Dean, idk my dudes

Summary: When John is yanked into the future he sees that his oldest Son still hasn’t made a move on y/n.

A/n: this has been swimming around in my head for awhile so I’m finally writing it. I hope you guys like it! If you wanted to be added to the forever taglist, just hit me up.

When you returned to the bunker after a rare solo hunt, you had no idea what insanity you were about to walk in on. The only thing you were looking forward to was a much needed hot shower, a decent meal, and maybe enough time to get through an episode of Game of Thrones with Dean. But that was a long shot even.

Parking your car in the garage, you took your time gathering your things and walking down the hallway towards your room. Throwing your duffel onto your bed, you stripped the dirt and blood stained clothes from your body. Dean and Sam could wait. The hot shower was your top priority right now.

You knew you had made the right choice, ten minutes later stepping out of the shower and feeling like an entirely new person. And fresh clothes only made it that much better. Wrapping a towel around your hair, you ventured out of your room towards the library. It was good to be back. It was good to be home.

“Sam! Dean! I’m back from that Wraith hunt in Washington!” You announced, ascending the stairs into the library, busying yourself by rubbing the towel through your hair in an attempt to dry it quicker.

The brothers had been so per-occupied by the event unraveling in front of them that they failed to remember you would be returning tonight. Your voice sending them turning in unison to face you, revealing the figure partly hidden behind them.

And then things got weird.

You were stopped dead in your tracks at the sight of one John Winchester, standing very much alive between his two sons. Meanwhile your towel was still pressed against your hair.

“What- the- hell is happening?” You stated slowly, eyes darting between the brothers. Dean shot you a smile, beaming at the sight of you.

“Hey y/n! Our Dads back!” Dean grinned, bringing up the obvious. You dropped the towel, eyes still wide as you nodded slowly.

“Yeah.” You breathed out, “ I can see that.” You put your hand up in a half wave at their father, still trying to steady your breathing. “ Hey, John. How’s it going?” You tried, still looking very confused.

You were one of the very few that had been in the Winchesters lives long enough to have known John, hell, you met them when you were in your pre-teens. The point was, John knew who you were and you knew who he was.

John let out a light laugh, an amused look on his face. “ I’m doing alright y/n. Thanks for asking. Apparently it’s been awhile.”

You locked eyes with Dean again, silently asking for a explanation. “Yeah, you could say that.” Dean could see that you were dying for an answer so he quickly stepped forward.

“Y/n, I was just gonna go out to grab stuff for dinner, you wanna tag along?” He asked, grabbing his jacket off the nearest table along with the set of keys for Baby.

“Uh yeah- sure.” Your words coming out slow as you had trouble taking your eyes away from their father. This was too weird.

As Dean stepped down the stairs, you quickly forced your body into motion, following him down the hallway. Once you knew you were out of earshot you turned to your best friend.

“Okay, mind telling me what I just walked in on?” You asked, looking over at Dean who, if you were being honest, who looked happier than you had seen him in a very long time. A huge smile on his face as he looked over at you.

“I’ll explain on the way. Long story short, Sam and I found a pearl that can give you what you want most in the world- or something. One minute there was nothing and then all of a sudden, BOOM. Dads standing there with a shot gun pointed at the two of us.”

“Well that definitely sounds like your dad.” You nodded, sliding into the passenger seat of the Impala.

Over the next hour Dean filled your in on the entirety of the story. From the odd wishing pearl to the fact that it wasn’t a permanent thing. While John was here, time would continue to warp and change. They would have to reverse the wish after dinner. You could see the sadness in Deans eyes as he told you, and you wanted nothing more than to be able to fix it for him.

When you returned to the bunker, you helped Dean unload everything from the car, pausing mid way to the kitchen. Dean stopped when he saw you frozen in the hallway, adjusting the groceries in his arm as he walked back over to you. “ you alright?”

You let out a sigh, giving the green eyed hunter as small, faint smile. “ Dean, I shouldn’t be here.”

Dean let out a huff, giving you a confused look. “what the hell are you talking about?”

“This is a family thing Dean. You always talked about wanting this. I’m not going to intrude. I’ll just go back into town for the night.” You shrugged. Moving past him, you stepped into the kitchen, setting the groceries on the table.

“Okay, first of all-“ Dean corrected you, moving to set his own bags down next to yours. “ You are family and second, I want you here. You’re my best friend.” He turned to look over at you, a smile lighting up his face.

Oof. There it was again. That one little title that had you so conflicted. Of course Dean was your best friend as well, but you also wanted something more than that. And you were sure Dean didn’t feel that way about you. “Are you sure? What if they don’t want me here?” You questioned.

Dean gave you another annoyed look before turning to unpack the groceries. “ are you kidding me? My mom loved you from the moment I introduced her to you and my dad? Even though he would never admit it, he thought of you as his other kid.” He chuckled. “So in conclusion. Your staying and that’s final. Got it?”

“Alright fine.” You exhaled, smiling over at the older Winchester. It was good to see him happy.

*. *. *. *.

And that’s how you found yourself seated down at one of the library tables, wine glass in hand as you watched Sam and Dean retell an old story about how the three of you had to go digging through a pond when Dean lost the keys to the impala during a wraith hunt a few months back.

You smiled into your wine glass as Dean rolled his eyes. Another memory came to your mind, making you slap Dean in the shoulder. “You gotta tell em the story about the fairy!”

Dean whipped his head around to glare at you, wide eyed. “ I’m not telling the fairy story y/n.”

“I’m sorry- fairy story?” John questioned, leaning forward with a raised eyebrow and a light smirk.

“Oh yeah. It’s one of Deans greatest victories.” You nodded, a grin appearing on your face as you took another sip of wine. “ He fought a fairy.” You swiveled your head, sending Dean your growing grin.

“I haven't heard this one either. Now I’m interested.” Mary laughed, leaning forward in her chair and resting her chin on her palm as she looked to her eldest son.

Without much choice, Dean groaned, diving into the story about how he was abducted by aliens and then forced to fight a fairy. The whole time you were trying to keep a straight face, but with everyone else laughing it was terribly difficult.

“It was a little glowing, hot naked lady.” Dean sighed, looking down at his hands which were folded in his lap.

“And then what happened Dean?” You smiled, trying even harder now to hold in your laughs.

“And- and she hit me.” He mumbled in defeat, sending you back into a full fit of laughter along with everyone else at the table. You were laughing so hard tears were streaming down your face as you grabbed your stomach. The rest of the Winchesters not far behind you.

“Oh god, I’m gonna pass out.” You heaved,looking back over at Dean who was shaking his head, only this time he had a small smile on his face.

“Okay get your laughs out.” He sighed.

“Oh, we are.” You laughed again, wiping away the tears on your face. You looked over at Dean, eyes locking almost immediately. You gave him another smile, silently apologizing for teasing him. The smile was returned, which made your heartbeat quicken.

You didn’t see it, neither did Dean, but for a good portion of dinner John was watching the two of you, smirking at the playful and childlike banter between you. Sam and Mary had noticed it too, but they were used to it. You and Dean dancing around each other , both afraid to make the first move.

It reminded John of him and Mary way back when. When times were simpler. Just two young idiots very much in love.

As dinner finished up, you helped clear off the table, you and Dean maneuvering around each other in perfect sync. It was interesting to watch to say the least.

As Dean left with the last of the dishes, heading towards the kitchen, your eyes settled on John, who was leaning against one of the pillars in the library.

You ventured over, tucking your hands into the pocket of your sweatshirt. “ Is it weird? Seeing how much they have changed?” You questioned.

John turned to you, letting out a breath. “ it’s definitely weird, but I can still see somethings haven’t changed.”

You tilted your head, wondering what on earth he was referring to. Shaking it off you sighed, “ you should be proud of them. They have helped a lot of people and they’re easily the greatest men I have ever had the joy of knowing.”

“I am proud of them. Hell, I got no words to express how proud I am of those two. I mean, Dean is still stubborn as hell-“

You let out a laugh, turning your head towards the kitchen.” Yeah, and I don’t think that’s going away any time soon.” You agreed, also realizing there was still work to be done. “I should probably go help in the kitchen.” You ended, giving John a nod before walking away.

You passed Dean in the hallway, who sent you another smile and gave your shoulder a squeeze as he entered the library.

Once John knew you were out of earshot, he turned to Dean, raising an eyebrow. “ I can see you still haven’t told y/n how you feel?” He smirked.

“Is it really that obvious?” Dean sighed, dragging a hand down his face as he fell into one of the chairs. John sitting down across from him.

“Yeah, Son. It’s still insanely obvious.” John laughed, picking up his glass of whiskey. “ I just feel bad for Sam, having to go all these years watching you two dance around each other like a couple of kids.”

Dean let out a defeated laugh. “How do I know if she even feels that way about me?”

John rolled his eyes, leaning forward. “ You two really are blind arn’t you? Just tell the girl. You’ll be fine Dean.”

“How do you know that? Y/n is a loose canon, you never know what you are gonna get with her!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air before letting them run down his face again.

“Just trust me on this.” John sighed, still mildly amused by how his eldest was reacting.

Dean was quick to lean forward, pointing his finger at his father. “Alright, but if this goes wrong, I’m blaming you.”

*. *. *. *. *.

This was not how you expected your night to go when you initially got home. You thought it would just be another night of microwaving takeout and watching some dumb show with Dean. And then you got the exact opposite. A full home cooked meal, a night of laughter, and a very happy Dean Winchester. Your heart was fucking full.

But slowly as the night came to a close, you could see Dean starting to sink, the inevitable goodbye he would have to give to his father drawing ever closer.

You eventually found yourself perched on one of the tables, the jade eyed hunter by your side. Mary and John were having one final discussion together, and Sam was leaning against one of the pillars in the library, clearly lost in his thoughts.

Turning your head, you looked over at Dean, a small sympathetic smile tugging on your lips. He looked so sad, and it broke your heart. Carefully you reached over, intertwining your fingers with his and leaning against his shoulder.

“It’s gonna be okay Dean.” You sighed, feeling his hand squeeze yours. You were keeping him grounded through this whole thing. Keeping him sane. He was grateful to have you in his life.

“I know- I just- I’m tired of saying goodbye to people.” He mumbled, going to rest his head against yours.

“Well I’m not going anywhere- you’re stuck with me till the end Winchester.”

“Good. I wouldn’t want it any other way.” He agreed with a light chuckle, eyes falling towards your intertwined hands.

It was unusual, he didn’t think anything of it at first, but now? He was only just realizing that you had never held his hand before. Sure there was the I’m grabbing your hand and pulling you with me while we run from this monster sort of hand holding, but this was different. This was gentle and loving.

You watched as his eyes stayed locked in your hands, slightly amused by how intrigued he looked by it. You smiled, taking your free hand and placing it on his face, before pressing a sweet and firm kiss to his cheek. The action surprising the both of you slightly.

And then something happened, that you never expected to see in a million years. A warm red bloomed across his face, his eyes quickly looking away. He was blushing. Dean Winchester, your best friend since childhood was blushing, turning into a rosy faced mess.

And it was fucking adorable.

The two of you out so caught up in the moment that you failed to notice the grinning Winchesters in the doorway.

*. *. *. *. *.

“You keep these boys out of trouble for me, you got that?” John grinned, pulling you in for one last hug.

You let out a light laugh, stepping back. “I don’t think the strongest power on earth could do that. But I’ll try.”

Moving back, you watched as one by one said their final goodbyes. The pearl that caused this all to happen, sitting ominously on the table next to you. Dean stepped forward, his father pulling him into a bone crushing embrace.

“She adores you, you know.” John stated slowly, low enough that you couldn’t hear it. “I can see it in the way she looks at you. So can Mary.”

The beginnings of what could only be a smile tugged on the corners of Deans lips as he slightly nodded. Yet at the same time he looked pained. Too much was going and he didn’t want to lose his Dad again.

“If you love her, tell her. Even if your scared it’s not the right thing. Even if your scared it will burn your life to the ground, you say it, and you say it loud. You got that, Dean?” John continued, grabbing Deans shoulder and pulling into another crushing hug.

All Dean could do was nod. His dad was right. You never knew how this life would play out- when your time was up. Life was too short to wait in fear.

“Now let’s get this show on the road.” John chuckled, pulling back with glossy eyes that matched everyone else’s.

You watched with a sad smile as the Winchester family collapsed into one last group hug. They all looked so terribly sad, but happy at the same tile that they got this at all.

“Get in here y/n. You’re our damn family too.” Before you could register it, you were being pulled into a massive Winchester sandwich, nestled snugly under Deans arm.

This was nice. To have a family. To have people who loved you. To have a home.

It took the strength of all of you combined to pull away from each other, Dean stepping back to the place where the pearl lay. Mary remained next to her husband, their hands wound tightly together.

You could see Deans own hand shaking as he picked up the bowl to smash the pearl. He was breaking. Doing what you could, you reached out taking his empty hand in yours once again. He looked down in surprise, before going up to meet your eyes in understanding.

“It’s Okay. I got you.” You assured him. He slowly nodded, showing you he understood.

You looked back towards John, who sent you and Dean both a wide smile. Who knew your lives could so quickly change in matter of hours.

And then Dean brought the bottom of the bowl down hard on the pearl, shattering it in one go.

You felt Dean slightly jump in pain besides you, his hand gripping yours tighter as he ignored the tears freely rolling down his face, eyes frozen on the spot where John had been standing just seconds prior.

You could tell he was heartbroken. Shifting the bowl from his grasp, you wound your arms around him, pulling him into you. “It’s alright. I got you. I got you.” You repeated, running your hand up and down his back in an attempt to help calm him. Though delayed, he moved to wrap his arms around you, chin coming to rest on your shoulder as he sank.

“Thank you.” He mumbled, attempt to regain his breathing.

Everything was going to be alright. He was gonna make sure of that.

(A/N: Tell me what you guys thought! this things been sitting in my drafts for ages and I finally finished it. If it gets enough notes ill write a second part.)

[okay-j-hannah]

Summer Lovin’

The Marauders : Fic

Sirius x Reader

Word Count: 3567

Warnings: Just a lot of adorable banter over the beautiful Sirius and his constant denial over the fact he needs to let people in 😂❤

Request: “Can you write something with sirius where he meets a girl over the summer and they never really talk about Hogwarts so he doesnt know her house and when they go back he finds out shes a slytherin” - Anon

A/N: Unbeknownst to them, the two kids from seemingly different worlds had so much more in common than meeting during the summer holidays

She sat below the grand tree, leaning against its rough bark as she flipped through her book. The breeze made its way through her hair, ruffling the pages between her fingers; she could barely register the cool touch it fell on her nose.

Her mind was entirely too enthralled with the chapter written before her, describing wonderous tales of a quiet, simple life. One that didn’t hold so many frivolous magical duties or exuberant ministry bound parents.

A swift shift above her caught her otherwise occupied attention, sending her to gaze ahead instead of downwards. However that view was quickly taken up by a wavy-haired boy of sixteen, hanging upside down by his legs hooked onto a sturdy branch.

“Sirius!” she shouted, unable to jump back due to the tree she rested upon, but nonetheless pressing herself flat against it.

The boy hung there, a ridiculously impish smile on his face, “Good evening, (Y/N).” He dropped his arms, revealing a tiny maple seed in his hand.

“You about made me bend the pages of my book,” she scolded, placing the object neatly beside her, “I need it for school.”

In an instant Sirius was right side up again, very nonchalant about what he’d just done. Instead he held his palm up to her eyes, presenting the maple seed before blowing gently.

The little seed immediately became airborne, but not at all as you would’ve expected. It was almost as if the wings of the plant flapped ever so slightly. But (Y/N) knew that to be entirely impossible, Sirius wasn’t a wizard – just a newfound friend from the city over.

“What are you reading?” he asked, just as he always did when they met, planting himself beside her.

“Little Women,” she responded, instantly feeling the warmth come from him where their shoulders touched. “It’s quite good.”

He frowned, pulling a comical face, “You sure? It looks like a bunch of boring words strung together into agonizingly long paragraphs that’ve been extended into impossibly confusing pages.”

She couldn’t help but giggle, slapping his hand before he could fiddle with the novel, “What you’ve just described is called a book, Sirius. And you’d know that if you ever bothered to pick one up.”

The offended look he gave her was dramatically overdone, “I will you have you know I’m passing my classes with adequate grades!”

“Adequate?”

He bent his head side to side in thought, “Well, adequate enough to pass.”

It always made her smile when she was able to figure him out. It wasn’t at all that difficult though, once you broke through the initial barrier. Sirius was a boy that desperately did want people to know him, although those people had to be very select and definitive.

(Y/N) fit the description apparently.

“Have you gotten any word from your parents?” She waited patiently, letting that cool breeze draw them almost instinctively closer to one another.

Upon mention of his family, Sirius always grew a bit darker, his eyes down-turning to his fiddling fingers. “No – I don’t suppose they ever will. Seeing as they’ve already got their perfect son, they can leave me for the scrap heap.”

“Don’t say that,” she muttered, nudging into him, “From what I’ve heard it sounds like you don’t necessarily want to be associated with them anyway.”

It always did surprise him whenever she’d give negative feedback on a person. She was normally entirely against pointless gossip and ignorant bullying.

It also always made his heart pump a little bit faster.

“You think?” he mused, finding another maple seed on the ground and opting to pulling the leaves off.

She gave a rather vocal thinking cap, scrunching her face up in the way that amused him, “Do I think you’re a pompous, ever-livid, critic that shoves anyone you think is beneath you into the gutter? No I don’t.” She pushed him a little harder that time, making him fall over with his guard down.

“I hate when you compliment me so.” He whipped up to push her back, sending her a bit farther away with a squeak in her voice.

“Then you hate the truth,” she muttered, fixing her hair and spitting blades of grass from her lips.

He couldn’t help but stare at her as she did so, his knees drawn up to his chest and his gaze soft and dreamy. It was as if he was envisioning something far away and barely within his grasp.

“Besides, things are better now that you’re with your friend.”

He blinked his eyes rapidly to attempt to clear his foggy dream, “Yeah, James’ folks have been real delights.”

“Don’t say it so sarcastically,” she wriggled her nose feeling a sneeze come on. It only made him smile further.

“I wasn’t being sarcastic.”

She hummed, “I guess it’s just your natural tone of voice then.” That brought a laugh out of him – she loved it when she could make him laugh.

“How’s your family been, then?” he questioned, too worried she’d wonder about his considerably quieter demeanor that evening.

It didn’t phase her at all that he was being simple; she quite enjoyed when he didn’t feel like he had to be a clown all the time.

“Proud and defiant as always. Sometimes I wish I had a James I could runaway to.”

Very faintly she could have sworn those words made him flash with anger but thought it merely a trick of the eye. Things were never complicated with Sirius and they weren’t about to be now. Conversation always flowed between them as the breeze was through the leaves above them.

“In that case, you’re going to have to write me at least twice a month,” he decided, turning himself so he was facing her. “I don’t want to miss out on you finding yourself a James at your faraway school.”

She feebly punched him in the shoulder, sheepishly retracting it to fold her arms, “You know I’ve never been that popular with the boys.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

It was the first bout of silence they had in days, Sirius finding his throat growing dry. His eyes diverted to her hands rubbing up and down her arms.

“You’re cold.”

Still a bit stunned at what he stated before, she slowly nodded, cracking a small smile. Quite unlike him, Sirius shyly opened his arms to her, urging her to come closer. And without hesitation she inched forward, leaning into him with his arm wrapped around her shoulders, keeping her safe and warm.  

(Y/N) always had a hard time discerning when Sirius was being truly sincere or not, normally when it came to more serious statements. In her gut she knew she’d rather have liked to believe most of them, but she would scold herself for putting faith in silly beliefs.

Sirius didn’t honestly feel for her in that way.

The problem was… Sirius felt completely and whole-heartedly in that way.

And as he skid home that night, he couldn’t help but feel a little lighter than before – secretly accomplished in himself for having held (Y/N) that night. He could almost remember the pleasant feeling of her leaning into his chest – the soothing touch of her hand in his.

A stupid smile was plastered onto his face as he rounded the corner and spotted his best friend lying on the front grass of his home. A glittering snitch was whizzing around his head as the sun faded still.

“Hey, well isn’t it lover boy coming back with a triumphant look on his face.” The wild-haired boy sat up, clutching the snitch in his hand, “Did he manage to steal a kiss from our little muggle friend perhaps?”

“Shut up, James,” he replied, plopping down on the grass beside him, “Just because I bunk with you now doesn’t mean I get to share every part of my summer.”

“No, that’s exactly what it means,” James stated, straightening his glasses, “Come on now, at least tell me you got a cuddle.”

Sirius drew his knees back towards his chest, wrapping his arms around them and resting his head on top, “Maybe just a little one.”

Punching him in the shoulder, James grinned, “Progress, mate. Now just you wait – soon we’ll see it in the papers: Double wedding with James Potter and Sirius Black, marrying their lovelies Lily and (Y/N).”

Sirius couldn’t help but snort, “The day Lily Evans accepts your date proposal is the day I face my parents with an apology and full allegiance.”

They shared a laugh, enjoying the company of having another to talk to, especially about things such as who they fancy.

“But I suppose it’s going to end soon,” Sirius muttered, gazing at the grass with that same drowsy stare.

James then became overly serious, “What you talking like that for? Just cause summer is ending doesn’t mean (Y/N)’s going to disappear forever. You can come back here next year, and she’ll still be living down the street.”

“That’s just it – what if something happens over the school year? You never know.”

It pained him to see his friend like that, so far away from the carefree expression he was accustomed to. All he did in that moment was give him a reassuring nudge, showing that he understood and would be there for him if it happened.

But as quickly as that silence enveloped them, it dispersed – James making a point to shove Sirius out of the way as he sped to the house.

“Last one to the room has to clean up the owl droppings!”

“By Merlin’s baggy y-fronts are you going to make me clean up after your ruddy owl!”

~~~

The school year was going by slower than she expected, the seasons falling into autumn with agonizing speed. As the days went on, all (Y/N) seemed to focus on was when Sirius was going to write her.

It was becoming detrimental to her declining grades as she dwelled on this wish throughout every class. Even Professor Binns mentioned the lack of participation as she was normally the only one who’d ask questions in History of Magic.

Professor McGonagall requested that she seek some extra tutoring before her scores became too steeply down.

It was just the overwhelming thought that Sirius hadn’t made any sort of attempt to contact her. And he promised he would.  

Was it just a summer fling?

“You’ve got to eat something, (Y/N).” Her friend Gwendolyn shoved a breakfast plate her way, “Slughorn is going to be upset if you pass out in the dungeons because of malnutrition.”

She could only faintly smile in return, “I’m just not hungry.”

“It’s that boy you won’t stop thinking about. This mysterious boy you refuse to name,” Gwen bit her toast, eyeing her friend suspiciously, “Come on, you’re starting to look greener than your robes.”

(Y/N) snuck a feeble giggle, “McGonagall was saying something similar just yesterday.”

“I don’t think it’s right for you to be pining over a boy that isn’t putting forth the same effort.”

That created the frown that harshly etched (Y/N)’s chin, “I just don’t get it…”

A crash from the other side of the Great Hall made her pause, simply some surprise that halted her thoughts.

“He was so kind, so attentive – he was always there; cracking jokes and making fun of my reading and…”

“And being so secretive,” Gwendolyn concluded, extracting her wand to fiddle with it against the table. She eyed the commotion happening across the sea of students, “He told you even less about his life than you did!”

(Y/N) sighed, resting her chin in her hand, “I just thought maybe he actually meant it all.”

Another thundering disturbance hit the hall, a number of students standing from their meals to catch a sight of what was happening.

“Probably that Potter gang,” Gwen muttered, turning to console her friend once more. “Look, how about you talk to Professor Kettleburn about some owls that can find his house. Just write a letter explaining the circumstances, owls probably come as a shock to some muggles…”

But (Y/N) had turned her attention to the commotion Gwen pegged as being caused by the Potter gang. Not one too familiar with other social gossip of the school, nonetheless too observant to not know who Potter was, she was suddenly engrossed by the gang of boys surrounding him.

“(Y/N), I’m trying to help you in your stupid dilemma,” Gwen pouted, leaning forward, “The least you could do is try to listen.”

But she was too caught up thinking that one of the boys looked so familiar. Across the way, bombarding a hoard of first years in their wake, the four boisterous sixth years laughed and tossed rolls to one another.

The ringleader, obviously Potter, chucked a buttered piece of toast towards a young Gryffindor, clearly a frightened first year. The sticky bread hit his freshly bought robes, making the youngling cringe and run away with tears in his eyes, others following him.

A short blonde friend snickered, keeping his distance, but enjoying the company. A slender, scarred boy stood shyly away, a disapproving smirk on his features. And another wavy-haired boy was nudging Potter, a crazed laugh on his face as he pointed out the scampering first year.

He looked so oddly familiar. His demeanor beginning to dawn on (Y/N)’s memory.

But it couldn’t be.

“Where in the name of Salazar are you going?”

But all (Y/N) could do was walk towards the disturbance, almost in a trance-like way. Her eyes were quickly beginning to sting, her mouth falling into a look of shock.

The closer she got, the plainer it became that it was Sirius she was noticing. Her Sirius that claimed to be as innocent and clever as she. Her Sirius that portrayed such a charming façade that she completely believed he was the good guy she had always hoped. The good, simple boy she met over the summer – one that could take her away from the stupidity that the magical community gave her.

Only now she was realizing he was just another piece in it.

“Sirius!?”

At the sound of her voice, the quartet stopped their squandering, all suddenly motionless at being addressed by an unknown student.

Remus furrowed his brow, stepping farther away from the classic duo of James and Sirius. He wasn’t about to get in another one of their feuds – especially over a girl. Peter followed suit, sensing the danger and looking towards his cleverest friend.

“Merlin’s beard,” Sirius muttered, dropping the roll he had aimed for the Gryffindor Prefect leaving their food fight. “(Y/N)?”

“What are you doing here?” she fought back those angry tears, noticing sharply his red robes and the glasses clad boy beside him. “I can’t believe it.”

“You’re a Slytherin?”

She shook her head more fiercely, “You’re a wizard! All those months and you didn’t even have a clue that I was one too? God, Sirius, what are you doing?”

The only thing he seemed to be able to do was gap at her, “A Slytherin?”

“The James you were talking about was James Potter!? How could I be so stupid?” she threw her hands in the air, clearly just on the brink of an all-consuming rant, “And I thought I had a decent clue who you were. Oh my God, Black? Sirius Black? My father literally spends weekends at your house… oh my GOD!”

James finally started connecting the dots, “Holy… wait a minute – is this that (Y/N) chick you met over the summer?”

Sirius was still horribly consumed in his initial shock of the whole event that he could only slump where he stood, staring at her.

“I told you back then that I didn’t think you were cruel and indecent. I told you I thought you were incredible and a good person. And now…” she addressed the mess he and his friends had made of the table; the small group of terrorized students at the end of the hall. “You’re bullying first years! First years, Sirius?”

“(Y/N), wait – I…” Sirius was just starting to wrap his head around what was happening. “A Slytherin?”

She was beginning to reach her limit, a personality quite unlike her own snapping through, “Were you just pretending to be something you’re not? I think you’re one way and then come to find out that you’re best friends with the most infamously arrogant child of our year.”

“Hey, now wait just a second…”

“I thought you were better than that, Sirius,” she cut everyone off, “But you’re different, you’re worse, you’re just like those parents you hate.”

She began to back away as he tried to clear his throat, gathering his shocked thoughts, “Slyth…”

“Yeah, we established that, Black,” she shouted, turning around, “I’ve never been gladder that Slytherins and Gryffindors eat on opposite sides of the Great Hall! Don’t speak to me – ever. Got it?”

And as she stalked off; Sirius could feel his own blood growing colder. His thoughts fully back now, shock dwindling as James leaned into him.

“Woah,” he whistled, “You’ve got yourself a little snake now, don’t you?”

At his scoff, Sirius shoved him away, “Sod off, James. (Y/N)!” He ran from his friend group, chasing after this girl he realized he was about to lose.

And if there was anything truer to him in that moment, it was that he didn’t want to lose her.

“(Y/N), please, let me explain.”

She sped out of the hall and towards the adjacent corridor, going anywhere that was from him. “I don’t want an explanation, Black.”

“Please, come on…” he picked up his pace, chasing her in a sprint as she wavered in her steps.

Her eyes were full of tears and she was not in the mood to address them, “Leave me alone, Sirius. Didn’t you hear a word I just said?”

He reached her shoulder, tugging on her sleeve and gaining a glare from her flustered face, “But I don’t want you jumping to conclusions without the whole story.”

She swallowed hard, silently cursing herself for the tears in her eyes, “More stories? So you can lie to me more?”

Sirius bit the inside of his cheek, finding it difficult to let his guard down now that he was back into the grove of school. “(Y/N), you’re not even giving me a chance. Don’t you think I’m a little surprised to see you a student at Hogwarts? You’re clever – Don’t you think I’ve earned the right to be a bit shocked too?”

“You’re a bully.”

“And you’re a pure-blood.”

“So are you.”

“But I left my family.”

“And I despise mine.”

“Looks like we have something in common then.” He attempted a little smile, enjoying the banter a little too much despite the bad timing.

She gave him a harsh gaze, “You’re different.”

He felt his heart give way a little, that urge to open up to her becoming more of a reality. It was that feeling that initially got him to like her in the first place.

“(Y/N), I’ve never been more honest in my whole life than I have with you. You bring that out in me – the real me – the side that I don’t like others to see.”

He waited for her to explode more, but instead watched as she let a tear fall, her frown still in place and not contradicting what he was saying.

He decided it was safe to continue, “You know how school is – it’s hard to find your place and to show you’re not something to be taken lightly or made fun of. I come from a very infamous family, one that represents a lot of what I hate. I’ve tried to take every possible measure to show that I’m nothing like them.”

The look in her eyes was beginning to soften and he found more courage to speak up, “I’ve rebelled against a strict upbringing, I defy any sort of rulebook given to me, and I do the complete opposite of the expectations set for my life. I’m a Gryffindor for crying out loud! My whole family has been in Slytherin for generations.”

She sniffed, swiftly reaching to wipe away stray tears, “You’ve built a wall. And you’re too stubborn for your own good to let people into it.”

“Except James, Remus… and you.”

That made her chest hurt with a little more pride than sorrow, “Maybe I did jump to a few conclusions.”

“And maybe I’m a blithering idiot that said Slytherin one too many times.”

The smile he gave her made her giggle slightly, taking a step forward so they were closer as they once were those many months ago. “If you can promise me you try to avoid the bullying, maybe I’ll consider seeing you more.”

“Even with the distance between the tables?” he smirked.

She lifted her hand slowly to graze his fingertips, “If you make the trip worth it.”

It was like his whole body froze in place, a feeling like none other coursing up his arm and taking refuge in his steely heart.

“But of course,” she remarked much louder to the muttering she used before, “That means you’ll have to actually show you have a good heart every once in a while.”

And she walked away, heading back to her dorm as Sirius stood there with the biggest smile on his face – one he hadn’t felt in a long time.

~~~

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[unfolded73]

Today and All the Days that Follow (1/1) - schitt’s creek ff

At 8880 words, it’s probably insufficient to call this a 6x14 reaction fic, although it’s that too.  An exploration of relationships, both on the wedding day and in the future. Rated Explicit (ao3)

Other Season 6 reaction fics: 6x01, 6x02, 6x04, 6x06, 6x07, 6x13

NOTES: Thanks to Emily Hampshire for saying in an interview that David and Stevie are soulmates. Thanks to the Rosebudd denizens for speculating how David and Patrick's wedding night might've gone - I think I stole some ideas from you guys. Thanks to my husband for giving me so many ideas for ridiculous sex-adjacent banter. Thanks to Dan Levy for writing this fucking show.

And another thing: This fic does reference the "happy ending" a couple of times in a lighthearted way. It's not a big part of the fic but it is mentioned.

And one more thing: I probably only have to say this because I've written some dark shit in the past, but while it may sound like I've imperiled Patrick's health at one point in this fic, he's fine. Don't worry.

__________________________________________________

9:47 a.m.

Marcy Brewer sipped her tea, giving the waitress Twyla a smile as she gathered up their empty breakfast plates. Twyla met the smile with one of her own at ten times the wattage. “I’m so excited for this evening,” Twyla gushed. “I love weddings.”

“We’re excited too,” Marcy said as Clint pulled out his wallet.

“I mean, I didn’t love my cousin Darryl’s wedding, but to be fair we warned him that saying their vows while skydiving was a bad idea,” Twyla continued.

Marcy met Clint’s eyes and tried to keep her face neutral. “We’re just worried about the rain,” Marcy said, trying to change the subject before she learned more about Darryl’s tragic wedding ceremony.

Twyla looked out the front window of the café and frowned. “Yeah. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

“We’re just on our way to meet Johnny and Moira now,” Marcy said, “so I guess we’ll find out how much of an issue the weather’s going to be once we speak to them.”

Clint handed a credit card to Twyla and stood up. “I’m going to run to the restroom,” Clint said, patting Marcy’s hand as he left the table.

The door to the café swung open and revealed David fumbling awkwardly with an umbrella before he managed to get it folded and the door closed against the driving wind. He hurried to the counter and spoke in low, urgent tones to Twyla, who gave him a sympathetic nod and made her way over to the espresso machine.

Marcy stood and approached him, concerned by the anxious way he was drumming his fingers on the counter and biting his lip. She hadn’t spent that much time with David in person, but he looked like he was close to a full meltdown.

“David,” she said, a gentle hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”

“The rain has ruined everything,” he said in a small, breathy voice. “We’re going to end up getting married in a barn.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sure you won’t have to get married in a barn,” Marcy said, rubbing up and down on his upper arm. He wore a soft sweater with a rainbow heart on the chest, and Marcy’s own heart squeezed at the thought of him choosing to wear that sweater before he changed into his wedding tuxedo.

David laughed humorlessly. “You’d be surprised how many major events in this town have happened in a barn.”

Twyla brought over a coffee cup, handing it to David and handing Clint’s receipt and credit card to Marcy. “Listen, David, I’ll get someone to cover for me today so that I can help with whatever you guys need today. And if Jocelyn hasn’t already done so, I’ll put out the word to everybody to pitch in,” Twyla said.

“Thanks,” David said, “That’s… that’s really nice of you.”

“We love you guys,” Twyla said with another sunny smile. “The least we can do is make sure you have a nice wedding today.”

“See?” Marcy said when Twyla left to deliver someone else’s breakfast. “Everyone’s behind you. It won’t be ruined.”

David nodded, but didn’t look convinced. “I just wanted today to be perfect.”

“Well, weddings are never perfect. Did I ever tell you about how my sister stepped on my train and ripped it about ten minutes before I was supposed to walk down the aisle?”

Shaking his head with wide eyes, David put his hand over his mouth. “What did you do?”

Marcy shrugged. “We pinned it with a couple of safety pins and I got married in a ripped dress. In the end, I was still married to the love of my life at the end of the day. And you can’t really tell in the pictures unless you know what to look for.”

David took a sip of his coffee, and Marcy thought maybe he was shaking a little bit less than he had been when they’d started talking.

“Patrick is the love of my life too, you know,” he said softly.

Marcy put an arm around him, giving him a squeeze. “Oh, David. I knew that the first day we met.”

~~~

2034

“I told Patrick he wasn’t wearing enough sunscreen,” David fretted on the screen of her phone. Marcy could tell by the herky-jerky movement of the camera and the motion of the ceiling above his head that David was pacing the floor.

“David, there’s no need to catastrophize until the biopsy comes back. And even if it’s bad news—”

“Oh, God—”

“Even if it’s bad news,” Marcy said more firmly, “skin cancer is treatable. The odds are very good these days.” She ignored the ball of anxiety in her own stomach, focusing on soothing her son-in-law’s nerves.

“All those baseball games, and hikes… just last month he was outside all weekend helping to set up for the Elm County Pride events.”

Marcy watched David flop down on the sofa and run his hand over his face. “You aren’t going to be able to stop him from doing the things he wants to do, David. Believe me, I had to tell myself that with every trip we made to the emergency room when he was a kid.” There was a droning sound outside, and she looked up in time to see Clint trundle past with the lawnmower. It was a job he insisted on doing himself even though they had plenty of grand-nieces and grand-nephews who would do it for them if they asked. She supposed the reckless apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

A smirk flashed across David’s face. “That arm he broke twice aches sometimes before it rains now.”

Marcy snorted. “He deserves it. He was an idiot when he was a teenager.”

They looked at each other’s faces through their phone screens for several seconds. At fifty, her son’s husband was as handsome as ever, his hair streaked with bits of grey and the lines beside his eyes more prominent. “Also, I’m afraid I’ll be bad at taking care of him,” David said quietly.

“Well, that’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said.”

She startled a laugh out of David with that. “It’s definitely not. Just ask your son.”

“I know you think Patrick is the one who takes care of you, but the thing I’ve learned about you boys over all these years is that you have a knack for not falling apart at the same time. When you need him, Patrick is strong for you. But when Patrick needs you, you’re strong for him.”

She could see the glassiness of tears in David’s eyes. “I hope you’re right, Marcy.”

“Listen to your elders, David,” she said as David’s head whipped around toward something outside the range of the camera. “What is it?”

“He’s on the phone,” David whispered. “It might be the doctor.”

Marcy waited, trying to take her own advice not to worry until there was definitely something to worry about. It almost worked.

Finally, she could hear Patrick’s voice, followed immediately by an expression of relief on David’s face. “Are they sure?”

“Yeah, she said it’s benign, but that I should have it checked in another six months.” Patrick came within view of David’s phone camera. “Hi, Mom,” he said, his eyes darting to David. “David, did you tell her…?”

The image blurred and swooped as David likely was gesticulating with the hand holding it. “I needed someone to talk to about this, honey.”

Patrick sat down next to David and pulled him into his side. Marcy watched as David hugged her son, the camera at an angle, the phone probably forgotten in his hand.

“I’m sorry if you were worried, Mom,” Patrick said as he pulled out of the hug and David rested his head on Patrick’s shoulder.

“You need to tell me about these things, Patrick. I worry more when you don’t talk to me.” It was a well-trod pattern between them, stretching back to when Patrick was a teenager. She didn’t seriously think Patrick would change now, but it felt better to chide him anyway.

“I know,” he said placidly, turning and kissing the top of David’s head.

“Thank you for being there for us, Marcy,” David said.

“Of course.” She swallowed back tears that threatened to spill over. “I love you, my sweet boys.”

~~~

1:39 p.m.

“So,” Stevie said after she and Patrick had his car doors closed, their raincoats dripping onto the seats and floorboards. “Now we just have to break it to David that the wedding is going to be at the Town Hall.”

“Yeah, that’s gonna go well,” Patrick sighed. “But it really is the best option. He’ll see that, right?”

Stevie gave him several exaggerated nods like she was a bobble-head doll. “Sure.”

Sighing again, Patrick started the car.

“I know he’s been really extra about the wedding, but you know it’s only because marrying you is really important to him, right? Like, the most important thing he’s ever done,” Stevie said as they pulled out of the motel parking lot.

“I know,” Patrick replied. “I mean, there have been moments that I was worried that the wedding was more important to him than the marriage, but…” He couldn’t help the smile that came to his face when he thought about their future in this town. “David’s gesture with the house allayed my fears on that count.”

“David likes things to be just right, is all. So his mind kind of obsessively goes over and over and over stuff that matters to him until he has it the way he wants it. Like his wardrobe. Or the store.”

“Yeah.” Patrick took a left turn toward his apartment. “You know my future husband very well.”

After a long pause, Stevie asked, “Can I tell you something and you not take it the wrong way?”

“Well, that’s not at all ominous.”

“I think David is, like, my soulmate. Not romantically!” she added quickly. “Just…our friendship is the most important thing in my life. And maybe it always will be.”

Patrick pulled into his parking space at the apartment and shut off the car. He turned and stared at Stevie, trying to wrap his head around what she’d just said. “I’ll confess I’m struggling with the concept of a non-romantic soulmate.”

“That’s because you’re a disgustingly romantic person. I’m … not that. And look, I know that while David is the most important person in my life, he has you and you’re his person. I get that. And I’m more than okay with it. It’s great, actually. I love you guys together, and I love who David has become being with you.” She looked down at her fingers. “I just wanted you to understand… I don’t know. I’m not saying this right.”

Maybe she wasn’t, but Patrick didn’t have to understand her feelings to support them. After all, he’d never understood how she had just stopped wanting to sleep with David at some point. Patrick couldn’t imagine sleeping with David and then not wanting to do it again and again, forever.

“Stevie, I was already aware that you and David have a special bond. You guys are alike in ways that he and I will never be, and so you probably understand him in ways that I don’t.” He reached over and took her hand in his. “I think that if David hadn’t been your friend first, he and I probably would never have made it here. You made him a better person. I suspect that you still do.”

She snorted. “I’m way too much of a mess to make anyone a better person, but I appreciate that you think so.” She squeezed his hand and let it go. “You’re a close second in the best friend department, you know.”

“I’m honoured,” Patrick said, but then he narrowed his eyes at her. “That’s just because the one thing you can’t do with your best friend David Rose is complain about David Rose, isn’t it?”

Stevie shrugged, laughing. “So what if it is?”

Patrick moved to get out of the car, but then stopped. “I’ve been meaning to say, I assume I have you to thank for David’s change of heart about New York? And the house?”

“He just needed a tiny nudge in the right direction, that’s all. Same as always.”

“Thank you. Seriously.”

“Well, since I’ve once again set your love life on the right path like I always do, I expect payment.”

“How many bottles of wine?” Patrick asked.

“Nope, not that. I have demands about the house. I want to be able to drop by and visit whenever I want. And dinner at least once a week when I’m in town.”

“Should I have an extra key made for you?” Patrick asked, smirking.

“Duh.”

“Okay, but I can’t promise you won’t walk in on something you’ll regret,” he said, finally getting out of the car and hurrying through the rain to the front door of his apartment building.

Stevie was grimacing as she followed him inside. “Fine, I’ll text first.”

~~~

2022

There was a sharp knocking sound on the window pane of the back door, and Patrick looked up from the tax documents spread out on his kitchen table to see Stevie’s face framed through the glass. He gestured for her to come in.

“There’s some coffee left,” he said, his eyes already back on his paperwork.

Stevie went straight for the cabinet where the mugs were, getting one down and filling it with coffee before she came over and looked at what Patrick was doing. “Hmm, looks like you’re working.”

He looked up and blinked balefully at her. “Yes. This tax paperwork is due at the end of the week.”

“Looks like you’re working at home. When you have a perfectly good desk in the back of the store,” she said before sipping her coffee.

“I have a little more space to spread out here,” he said, not meeting her eyes.

“So it has nothing to do with the fact that you and David are having a fight.”

Patrick put his pen down and leaned back in his chair. “Okay, you clearly have already talked to him, so out with it. Tell me what you’re here to tell me. And it’s not a fight, it’s a… minor disagreement.”

“Uh huh.”

“Stevie—”

“It sort of seems to me that you were having a reasonable debate over where the second Rose Apothecary location should be and then the debate experienced some… scope creep.”

Patrick raised an eyebrow. “Scope creep?”

Stevie threw up her hands and groaned. “I’ve been in a lot of meetings with the Rosebud Motel Group leadership team lately, sorry.”

“Ooh, tell me what other business-y buzzwords you’ve learned.”

“Don’t change the subject, Brewer; we’re talking about you and David right now, not my career.” She sat down at the table across from him, shoving some papers out of the way so that she wouldn’t have to set her coffee mug down on top of them.

“So what did David say?” Patrick asked, a bit afraid of the answer.

“Here’s what I think,” Stevie said, not answering the question. “I think that you do a lot in this marriage and around the store because you like being needed. And also you like to take charge and control things. Classic service top behaviour.”

Patrick had thought he was done blushing about his sex life around Stevie; apparently not. “I’m sorry, what?”

She waved a hand dismissively. “David talks to me about stuff, you know that. Anyway, my point is that when you get overwhelmed and need help, you have a hard time just asking for help. Instead you passive aggressively make David feel bad that he isn’t doing more.”

“I’m not being passive aggressive.”

“Patrick, you are totally being passive aggressive. And I’m not saying David doesn’t share some of the blame: he’s got this learned helplessness thing that I assume dates back to early childhood and believe me, I find it as annoying as you do. Maybe more so.” She raised her coffee to her mouth and took a sip. “But if you’re overwhelmed right now, maybe you should try just straightforwardly asking David to help you.”

Patrick pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Fine.” He looked up at her. “For someone who claims to not do relationships, you certainly seem to know a lot about them.”

“When would I have time for a relationship? A significant amount of my free time is taken up by being your and David’s marriage counsellor.” She stood up from the table. “So are you good?”

Sighing, Patrick nodded. “I’m good.”

“Good, because I’ve got a flight to Michigan tonight to visit some of the midwestern motels.” She gave him a little wave and left via the back door.

Patrick picked up his phone and called David.

“Hi,” David answered on the third ring.

“Hey. I’m sorry. Can we talk?”

There was a pause, but Patrick could almost hear David nodding. “We can talk. I love you.”

Patrick was already stacking up his papers to return to their file folders. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” He glanced around the kitchen, frowning. “And hey, can you tell Stevie to stop stealing our coffee mugs? She just took another one.”

David laughed. “It’s not just the coffee mugs. She has some of our dishes and flatware too.”

“Cool,” Patrick deadpanned, rolling his eyes. “And I love you, too.”

~~~

5:05 p.m.

Patrick spotted his father coming in from his reflection in the mirror as Patrick prepared to tie his tie. He dropped the two ends of it and spun around. “Thank god,” he said at the sight of the styrofoam containers in his father’s hands. “I don’t know why it just now occurred to me that I forgot to eat today.”

“Yeah, I can’t imagine,” his father said with a smirk. “Could there possibly be something else on your mind?”

They sat together at the small desk in the town hall back room where they’d sequestered themselves to change for the wedding. Patrick’s mother was with the other relatives who had made the trip into town, texting frequent updates about his extended family’s shenanigans.

“Oh, I double checked with Stevie. She has the wedding rings,” Clint said as he tucked a napkin into his collar to protect his tuxedo shirt.

“Is she absolutely sure?” Patrick copied his father’s actions with his own napkin, imagining that if he managed to get mustard on his wedding shirt, David might change his mind about getting married. Finally, he dug into his food.

“She said she texted you a picture as proof,” Clint said with an amused smile. Patrick pulled out his phone while he chewed and sure enough, there were three pictures from Stevie in his messages: one close-up of the open ring box with two wide, gold bands in it, one selfie of her putting the box in the jacket pocket of her suit, and one of her flipping off the camera. He grinned and put the phone away. “Yeah, she has them.”

“She seems like an excellent maid of honour for David,” Patrick’s father mumbled around a mouthful of burger.

Thinking about Stevie’s delight at the happy ending mishap a couple of hours ago, Patrick chuckled and took another bite of his burger. “Yeah.”

“These burgers aren’t very good,” Clint admitted.

Patrick put his down. He’d managed to take three bites out of it, but the butterflies in his stomach were making it challenging to choke down any more of the food he’d wanted so badly a few minutes ago.

“Yeah, they’re never very good.”

“And yet you eat there frequently?”

Patrick shrugged. “It’s next to the store.” He pushed away from the table. “I think I’m too nervous to eat.”

Clint put a hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, son.”

“For what, going through with getting married this time?” Patrick joked, uncomfortable with his father getting emotional right now. He felt like his own emotions were way too close to the surface as it was.

“For realizing that things in your life weren’t right, and for having the courage to go out and find what you needed to be happy.”

“It didn’t feel like courage. It felt like running away.”

Clint threaded his fingers together and fidgeted with his thumbs, a nervous tic that Patrick had picked up from his father when he was a kid. “Your mother and I probably didn’t make it any easier on you those first few months, pressuring you to come home.”

“You don’t need to apologize for that,” Patrick said quickly. Maybe there were other things they needed to apologize for, but wanting him to come home when he couldn’t articulate why he’d left, that wasn’t something he could lay at their feet. “I wish I’d been brave enough to tell you about David from the start. You could have gotten to know him a lot better by now if I’d just—”

“Patrick, no.”

“It’s true.”

“We’ll have years to get to know him. Thanksgivings and Christmases and maybe some summer trips to the lake house, okay?”

Patrick let out a slow breath. “Yeah. You’re right.”

Clint pushed himself up from his chair, pulling the napkin from his collar. “Then let’s get you ready to get married, shall we?”

~~~

2021

“So are you ready for the official tour?” Patrick asked his parents after setting their luggage in the front room of the house.

“We saw the house when we were here for the wedding, remember?” Clint said with an indulgent smile.

“That doesn’t count; they hadn’t moved in yet,” Marcy said. “Now they’re settled in and we get to see it as Patrick and David’s house.” She looked around. “Is David not here?”

“He’s at the store, but he should be home in a half hour,” Patrick said. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

He took them through the living room — where David had recently hung a piece of Japanese art above the fireplace, the mantle already crowded with pictures from their wedding; where a cozy sofa was angled toward the television Patrick had spent a frustrating Sunday mounting on the wall — to the kitchen. In the morning, the kitchen was Patrick’s favorite part of the house, sunlight streaming in through the south-facing windows as he boiled water for tea and ground coffee beans for David’s French press. One end of the counter tended to collect the detritus of their lives — junk mail, loose pens, change from their pockets, and David’s keys when he forgot to put them in the bowl by the front door. The cabinets were gradually filling up as they acquired more small appliances and salad bowls, crystal wine glasses and those proper pint glasses Patrick had always wanted.

“We’re going to paint in here next year,” Patrick explained. “I’d like to teach myself to tile so that I can replace the backsplash at the same time.”

“I could come out and help, if you want,” his dad offered.

“Sure, that would be great.”

He pointed out the dining room and then led them to the one downstairs bedroom, which was doubling as an office and guest room. “You’ll be in here,” Patrick said. “I promise the sofa bed is comfortable. Or Stevie says it is, anyway. She sleeps in here when she’s had too much to drink to drive home.”

“I’m sure it will be fine, sweetie,” his mom said. “The walls are an interesting color,” she commented, pointing out the deep plum walls.

“Oh yeah, David painted this room. I didn’t think I’d like it, but it kind of works.” He led them out and up the creaking wooden stairs to the second floor of the house where the other two bedrooms were. Stopping in the doorway of the master bedroom, Patrick said, “This is our bedroom, obviously.” He moved on quickly. Even now that he was married to David, he still felt weird about his parents seeing the bed they shared. The couple of times they visited him in his apartment, he’d felt the presence of his bed in the space like it was looming over them, daring his parents to picture him in it with David.

“The bathroom up here is nicer than the one downstairs, so you’re welcome to come up and use this one,” he said, indicating the room in question. “I’d like to redo the tile in here too at some point, if I can find the time.”

He started toward the stairs, but his mother hung back. “Are those both closets?” she said, pointing to the other closed doors.

Patrick chuckled. “In a manner of speaking. One is the linen closet, one is the third bedroom that David uses as a closet. I don’t think he’d forgive me if I showed you that.”

His parents laughed and shook their heads and followed him down the stairs and into the kitchen, where he poured them wine and set the oven to preheat so that he could bake the lasagna he and David had put together the night before. Then he pulled out ingredients for a salad.

“The house is lovely,” his mom said. “You’ve made a real home here, and it’s wonderful to see.”

“Have you decided what to do with that big yard yet?” Clint asked.

Patrick shook his head. “I’d like to try my hand at gardening, but I’m worried I won’t have the time to keep it up.”

David arrived home then in a flurry of hugs for his in-laws and a kiss on the cheek for Patrick, and in less than ten minutes he and Marcy were deep in conversation over the latest true crime documentary on Netflix. His father pulled a second knife from the block and went to work on the cucumbers while Patrick peeled carrots.

“This is what I always wanted for you, you know,” Clint said softly as they worked on the salad.

Patrick looked over at David. His excitement in making whatever point he was making to a giggling Marcy showed in his high-pitched voice and his broad hand gestures. Turning back to his father, Patrick raised a skeptical eyebrow. He was pretty sure this wasn’t at all what his father had pictured for him when he was young, and Patrick couldn’t help a tiny nugget of resentment from surfacing in his stomach for his father trying to rewrite their history.

“Okay, I didn’t know I wanted this, specifically,” Clint acknowledged. “I just… I wanted you to have a home of your own, is all. A place to settle down and be happy. That’s what I mean. And that’s what you have.”

Patrick smiled. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I have.”

~~~

5:41 p.m.

“Wow.” Stevie said when he emerged from the bathroom of the motel room.

David dismissed her reaction with a flutter of his hand. “You were with me at the fitting.”

“Yeah, but it hadn’t been fit yet so I didn’t get the full effect.” She eyeballed him up and down. “It’s really sexy, actually. Patrick’s gonna flip.”

David looked down at himself in his wedding clothes. He’d had them shorten the skirt so that the front panel hit him right at the knees, and then he’d been nervous that he’d made a terrible mistake. “Are you sure? It’s not too funky?” he joked, harkening back to the opinion about his clothes that Stevie had expressed years ago.

“No, I actually love it.” She took a sip of her champagne. “And you know I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t mean it.”

Going over to the mirror, David began fussing with his hair, making sure every strand was in place. The rest of his wedding might have been ruined, but at the very least he could look perfect.

“Are you nervous?”

He thought about it, probing his feelings. He was excited about saying his vows to Patrick and slipping a wedding ring onto his finger. He was feeling queasy that his vision for the outdoor wedding of his dreams had to be tossed aside because of the weather. But was he nervous? “Not at the moment, but ask me again right before I walk down the aisle.” He huffed. “If they even manage to have an aisle in that place. As I walk between Bob and Ronnie’s desks, I guess.”

Stevie grinned at him. “I went over and took a look at Town Hall while you were getting dressed. You might be surprised when you see it.”

He rolled his eyes, trying not to get his hopes up. “Whatever.”

The door between the motel rooms opened then and Johnny strode in, his bow tie dangling from his collar but otherwise he was dressed and ready to go. “Oh, Stevie, don’t you look lovely!” he said with a big smile before turning to take David in. “And David—”

“Yes, this is what I’m wearing, so don’t start,” David snapped, trying to head off any comments his father might make about the style of his wedding attire. Johnny Rose tolerated, even liked, all manner of fashion from his wife, but that tolerance hadn’t always extended to his son’s sartorial choices. Johnny might have accepted his sexual orientation a long time ago, but he occasionally had some old-fashioned ideas when it came to gender expression.

Johnny blinked, a spark of hurt in his eyes. “David, I think you look wonderful.”

David’s teeth clicked together in surprise. “Thanks.”

“And when I think about..” Johnny paused, and swallowed, and David could see the glassiness of unshed tears in his eyes. “When I think about how much you went through, and that now you’ve found someone to love you and share your life with…”

“Dad, you can’t do this right now; if you start crying, then I’m going to start crying, and then my eyes will be puffy in the wedding pictures and I’ll blame you for it.”

“Mr. Rose, maybe you could go check and see if Mrs. Rose is ready to drive over to Town Hall?” Stevie said gently, putting an arm around him and ushering him back to the door.

“That’s a good idea, Stevie — thank you.” He gave David one more watery smile before he closed the door behind him.

“Thanks,” David breathed. “I’m touched by how much he cares, but I can’t handle that level of emotion right now.”

Stevie nodded. “Then it’s a good thing you’ve got me, because I’m not capable of that level of emotion.”

David smirked at her. “Right.”

“Although for the record, I do love you a lot, and I’m really happy and honoured that I get to stand beside you while you marry the love of your life today.”

His eyes filled up with tears that immediately spilled over onto his cheeks. “Oh, fuck you.” He wiped under his eyes. “You did that on purpose.”

Stevie grinned. “Yes, I did. But also, it’s the truth.”

“I know.” David sniffled. “I love you, too.”

~~~

2029

When Stevie finally showed up on his doorstep the week before Christmas, David pulled her into a hug and almost started crying.

“I haven’t seen you in months,” he scolded her, his eyes squeezing shut as he rocked them back and forth.

“I know, I know, I didn’t know I’d have to be at corporate so much this year.” She slapped his arm. “Are you going to let me in anytime soon? I’m freezing.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, stepping back and letting her into the house. Stevie pulled her boots off and left them by the door, hanging her coat and scarf up before following David into the kitchen where he put a glass of wine into her hand.

“So, Dad being a hundred percent retired has been tough, huh?”

“I really didn’t realize how much work he did,” Stevie said, flopping into a chair. “So many meetings. Resolving conflicts between people with enormous egos. Making a thousand decisions every day, all the while convinced someone is going to point out what a huge fraud I am.”

“Oh my god, don’t talk about my best friend like that. You aren’t a fraud.”

“So what’s going on with the move to Elmdale, is that still happening?”

David felt his familiar anxiety arising at the mention of that topic. “We’ve looked at, like, a hundred houses. Some of them are very nice and two were within walking distance of my favorite pizza place and that new wine bar that opened up last year.”

Stevie squinted at him. “And therefore within walking distance of your Rose Apothecary location in Elmdale.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Yes, and that. Our biggest location, and the one that arguably requires most of our attention these days.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“There is every logical reason to move.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“The problem is I love this house!” He said, gesturing around at his warm kitchen. “I love it. We’ve done so much work on it over the years, and I just… I hate the idea of some other family buying it and moving in and living inside these walls that are ours.”

“You’ve always complained that it’s too small,” Stevie pointed out.

“I know. It is.”

“What does Patrick think?”

“He thinks I’m being overly sentimental, but he’s willing to stay in this house if that’s what I want. Of course. Because that’s what my husband does.”

“Maybe you haven’t found a house you like enough to replace this one, but that doesn’t mean that house doesn’t exist,” Stevie said. “Maybe you should keep looking.”

“Maybe.” He waved his hand as if to dismiss that topic of conversation into the ether. “Anyway, I read that profile of you in Entrepreneur Magazine.”

Stevie rolled her eyes. “Would you believe that stupid magazine profile got me laid, like, multiple times?”

“I used to live in New York. Of course I believe that.”

“Like, so much dick, David.”

“Okay, I get it.” He sipped his wine and debated whether to ask the question that was plaguing him. “Any, um, special dicks in the bunch?”

Stevie narrowed her eyes. “Is that your way of asking if there’s anyone special in my life?”

“Maybe.”

“There isn’t. I mean, there’s guys that I’ve seen more than once, but if you’re asking if I’ve caught feelings for anyone, the answer is no.”

“Hmm.” He heaved a sigh and decided to bite the bullet. “So are you gonna… stay in New York?”

Smiling like she could see right through him, Stevie said, “Actually, one of the things I’ve been doing this week is sitting in on interviews for a new Chief Operating Officer. Because I want to come home.”

David’s heart stuttered in his chest, but he schooled his expression to one of skepticism. “You’re a high-powered business woman and you’ve spent the last few months in one of the most exciting cities in the world, getting wined and dined and eaten out by a parade of randoms, and you want to come back to Schitt’s Creek.”

She nodded. “That’s right.”

“Why?”

“I miss the futility of Bumpkin.”

“Stevie, why?”

“Because I missed my friends, you dumb ass.” She swirled her wine. “You in particular.”

David suppressed a smile. “I love you.”

“Love you, too. Dumb ass.”

~~~

9:42 p.m.

He dodged Alexis’ wobbly nose boop. His nose had been booped by her enough for one day.

“Daaavid. You’re married,” she said, swaying in front of him, a champagne flute clutched in her hand.

“I know, I haven’t forgotten the ceremony. And if I had, you’ve told me that four times already tonight.”

“Yeah, but I just keep thinking about how lonely you were before. Not just when we first got here, but also in New York.”

“Mm hmm, thanks, I appreciate you bringing that up,” he said with an eye roll.

Alexis ignored him. “I mean, there were always people around you, but you were really lonely. And now look.” She gestured around the room. Ronnie and some of the Jazzagals were in a loose circle on the dance floor, dancing and singing along too loudly to Crazy in Love. His father and Patrick’s father were talking at one of the tables, laughing about something. Stevie and his mother (having made a complete costume change after the ceremony) were doing shots at the bar while his new husband and mother-in-law were watching with amusement. “You have all of these people in your life who love you.”

David nodded, too overcome for the moment to speak. They both watched the reception in silence for a minute.

“Do you think Mom and Dad are going to be okay without us?” Alexis asked.

“They have each other, and they’ve always been the most important person in each other’s lives. They’ll be fine.”

“Do you think we’re going to be okay without Mom and Dad?”

“Yes, I do. Well, you will be, because you’re you. And I have Patrick, so…”

Alexis nodded. “Do you think we’re going to be okay without each other?”

“I think you better call me all the fucking time,” David said, putting his arm around her. Alexis wrapped both of her arms around his waist and squeezed.

~~~

2025

“I still can’t get used to you cooking,” Alexis commented from the tablet screen that David had propped up on the kitchen counter so that he could use both of his hands to finely chop the cilantro that had come out of their garden.

“You literally saw me cooking when you were here last Thanksgiving,” he said, the chef’s knife in his hand making a dangerous arc through the air as he made his point.

“I know, and I still can’t get used to it.”

“Patrick and I wouldn’t still be married if I hadn’t taken on a larger share of the housework, and it turns out, despite all past evidence to the contrary, that I’m good at this. Okay?”

“Okay, David, god. Lighten up.”

“So anyway, you were telling me about Mom and Dad,” he reminded her.

“Yeah, she says she’s really done with Los Angeles for good this time, and that they’re staying here in New York for the foreseeable future.” Alexis was fiddling with her hair. “We’ll see.”

“That’s a relief, honestly. I feel better knowing you’re close by to check in on them more frequently. They aren’t getting any younger.”

“When are you guys visiting New York again?”

David scraped the cilantro into his bowl of chopped tomatoes and grabbed a lime, slicing it in half. “August, I hope. What’s going on with that guy you were seeing? What was his name? Larry?”

“Ew, David. Can you see me dating a guy named Larry? It’s Leonard.”

“Uh huh, that’s much cooler,” he smirked. “Are you still seeing him?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know if it’s serious. I don’t know if I have time for something serious.”

“You work too hard.”

“So do you.”

David sighed, debating internally whether to tell her the news.

“What?” Alexis asked, her eyes narrowed. “You’re keeping something from me.”

Setting his knife down, David looked into the camera. “Ted’s back in town.”

She started fidgeting with her hair again. “Oh yeah? What brings Ted to town?”

“His mother is sick and he’s here to help her get to and from her chemotherapy appointments. At least that’s what Jocelyn said. She said he might even reopen his vet practice, but that might just be the Schitt’s Creek rumour mill on overdrive.”

“I should maybe send Mrs. Mullens a card, right? Should I send her a card?” Alexis asked in a small voice.

“I’m sure she would appreciate a card.” He cleared his throat. “If I see Ted, do you want me to—”

“No. I don’t know. Just… tell him I said ‘hey.’ And that I hope his mom is okay.”

“I’ll do that.” David felt a swell of affection for his little sister. “You know, the guest room here is yours anytime you want to visit.”

Alexis nodded up and down several times. “Yeah. I’ll… yeah. Let me check my calendar and I’ll get back to you. I mean, I know you miss me, so…”

He smiled. “I do miss you, Alexis.”

~~~

12:29 a.m.

“Do you want to dance some more?” Patrick asked, nuzzling against the side of David’s neck as they sat at one of the reception tables.

“We can if you want,” David said. Stevie, Alexis, and Twyla all seemed to just be getting their second wind, gyrating together on the dance floor to “Umbrella.”

“My feet are kind of killing me, actually,” Patrick admitted. “And as you once told me, sock feet in a public place is incorrect.”

David looked down at the boots he had paired with his Thom Browne tuxedo, which were still really comfortable after several hours on his feet. “Then we don’t need to dance. We did plenty of dancing tonight.”

“Do you want more cake?” Patrick asked.

“I might explode if I eat more cake.”

“A tragic and disgusting end to a very short marriage,” Patrick said seriously, his lips quirking up on one side in a tiny smile.

“Ha ha.”

Patrick sat up a little straighter then and waggled his faint eyebrows in a spoof of lasciviousness. “Do you wanna come back to my place?”

“Mm, I would, but I’m married,” David said, trying to suppress a grin.

Laughing, Patrick leaned closer. “Oh, but I’ve heard your husband is pretty liberated about stuff like that.”

David bit his lip. “Only in special cases, like when he hires a sex worker for me. Also, he has a weakness for attractive carpenters who are up for a threesome.”

Patrick looked around, a smirk still firmly planted on his face. “Are there any attractive carpenters here?”

“You know, I would’ve invited Jake? But I didn’t want to find my maid of honour hooking up with him in a closet before we managed to pose for pictures.”

Patrick’s eyelashes fluttered as he looked back and forth between David’s eyes and his mouth. “Seriously, though. We outlasted all of our parents at this party, and the newly married couple does traditionally leave first. We can go whenever you’re ready.”

“I think my parents are out back sharing a joint with Roland and Jocelyn, frighteningly enough, but I take your point. Let’s go home.” Home right now was still the apartment, but next month it would be the new house, which David was almost as excited about as he had been about the wedding.

A swish of white in David’s peripheral vision caught his eye, and he looked up to see Alexis, Twyla, and Stevie. Twyla had an entire bottle of champagne in one fist. “We’re taking this party back to the motel. Wanna come?”

He looked at Patrick, torn between his precious remaining time with his sister before she left for New York, and being alone with his husband. Patrick, as he often could, read David’s mind. “Yeah, let’s go party at the motel.”

Anyone awake and paying attention would have seen the five of them stumbling down the road at a quarter to one in the morning in formalwear, David unable to stop himself from laughing loudly at the ridiculous rendition of “Shallow” that Patrick and Twyla were singing while they walked. As they approached the motel, Patrick took a moment to whisper something in Stevie’s ear. David watched with curiosity as Stevie ducked into the office when they arrived, emerging after a few seconds and pressing something into Patrick’s hand. Before David could follow Alexis into their room, Patrick grabbed his hand and dragged him down the walkway to the room at the end of the row.

“What are we doing?”

“Just taking a tiny detour before we go party with your sister,” Patrick said, unlocking the love room.

“This is a nightmare room, though. Also I fucked Stevie in here.”

“Yeah, like three years ago. I think I can handle it,” Patrick deadpanned as he closed the door and pushed David up against it.

“They’re going to know what we’re doing.”

“Oh, no. What will I do if your sister and our friends know that you and I are having sex?” He kissed David, his mouth open and searching. “I just need a few minutes alone with my husband.”

David groaned, his head tilting back to thunk against the shade drawn over the door’s window panel. “Say that again.”

Patrick took David’s jacket from his hand, tossing it onto the dresser to his right. David’s tie was already untied, but Patrick unbuttoned another shirt button before he leaned in close, inhaling against David’s neck. “My husband.”

“Mm, fuck, okay. I’m on board now.”

“Good.” Patrick sank to his knees. “Because ever since I saw you walking down the aisle, some percentage of my brain was occupied with the thought of doing this.” He reached up under the skirt of David’s tuxedo, pulling his underwear down to his knees.

David pulled the front of the skirt up, wary of soiling it — it was the most expensive clothing purchase he’d made in years — but also just wanting to watch.

Patrick just nuzzled against him at first, and it made David wish there had been time for a shower because he’d definitely sweated a lot over the course of the day, but then Patrick had taken his cock into his mouth and David forgot to worry about it.

“Oh my god, you’re so good at that,” David gasped, his hand coming down to cup the back of Patrick’s head. Patrick worked him expertly, and the sight of him filling Patrick’s mouth while Patrick was still wearing his wedding clothes did something intense for David. He let his hips flex, his cock pushing forward into Patrick’s mouth. Into his husband’s mouth. Fuck.

Then without warning, Patrick’s mouth disappeared.

“Patrick, I’m close, come on,” he whined.

Patrick was looking up at him with those doe-eyes of his. “I don’t know, David. You did already come once today. Maybe I’d like some parity.”

“Oh my god.”

Patrick grinned, standing up. “Can I fuck my husband in this skirt?”

They didn’t manage to get any more clothes off, but they at least managed to make it over to the bed, where thanks to some conveniently placed lube in the bedside table, a few minutes later David found himself on his elbows and knees on those horrible red sheets. Patrick prepped him efficiently, his fingers teasing David’s prostate until he had to bite his hand to keep them from hearing him several doors down. Finally, Patrick pushed inside him with a groan, setting a hard and unrelenting pace from the outset. With a noise that was more sob than anything, David worked his hand down to his cock and stroked himself in time to Patrick’s thrusts. They finished simultaneously, in sync with each other even at this frantic pace.

“Let me clean you up so we don’t mess up your clothes,” David heard Patrick say from somewhere far away.

“Uh huh,” he murmured into the mattress.

“You still want to go party with the girls?” Patrick asked as he returned from the bathroom with a couple of washcloths.

“As soon as I can feel my arms and legs, sure,” David said.

Once they were cleaned up, they flopped down on their backs side by side and looked up at the mirror on the ceiling.

“Thanks for marrying me today,” David whispered.

“Same.”

~~~

2031

David huffed and flipped over onto his other side in the bed, sticking one leg out from under the covers to try to regulate his temperature. He punched his pillow and readjusted it under his head.

Patrick’s voice pierced the near-darkness of the bedroom. “Can’t sleep?”

“I’m fine.” He shifted again, curving his spine in yet another attempt to find a position that didn’t make his back hurt.

“Really? Because you’ve been fidgeting for an hour.”

David turned over, wincing. “Sorry, I can go downstairs. I didn’t mean to keep you up.”

Patrick gestured with his tablet. “You’re not; I was reading.”

“Still, I can go downstairs.”

Setting his tablet reader aside, Patrick rolled toward David. “Do you want to have sex?”

David thought about it, shifting onto his back. “I’m not horny.”

“Me either, but I could probably get there if you wanted to. Either way, I could give you a handjob.”

“It’s the way you’ve never let the romance die that makes this such a successful marriage,” David said, reaching over and patting Patrick’s cheek.

“Yeah, I realize it’s not terribly romantic, but it might help you sleep.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can jerk off if I really want to,” David said.

“Yes, I’m aware you’re capable of jerking off.” Patrick started to turn and reach for his book again. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

“No, wait. I mean, I do sleep better after we’ve fucked than I do after masturbating.”

“You should write for Hallmark,” Patrick said.

“Hey, you’re the one who suggested a utilitarian handjob as a sleep aid.”

“I never said it would be utilitarian.” Patrick scooted closer to David under the thick duvet. “Let’s make sweet, tender love, David.”

“Shut up.”

“Let’s celebrate the beauty of our multi-decade relationship with some lube and—”

“I hate you,” David said, closing the distance between them and kissing him. His hand settled into the familiar spot on Patrick’s neck, long fingers cupped around to stroke through the short hairs on the back of Patrick’s head. He tasted like toothpaste, and even though they’d kissed thousands of times, David still felt a zing of arousal, enveloped in the sensations and warmth of his husband.

Patrick’s hand stole around David’s hip and under the waistband of his sleep pants, fingers digging into his ass cheek and pulling their pelvises flush against each other. A minute of grinding coupled with more deep, wet kisses was all David needed to go from vaguely interested to fully on board.

“Okay, I changed my mind,” David whispered against Patrick’s lips. “I am horny.”

“Mm hmm.”

“As are you,” David said, punctuating that sentence with another grind of his hips.

“Yeah, there’s just something about being kissed by my husband. I don’t know what it is.” Patrick said in that way he had that was simultaneously sarcastic and sweet.

David fumbled in his bedside drawer for lube, then pushed Patrick over onto his back, shoving his underwear down.

“Wait,” Patrick muttered when David squeezed some lube into his palm. “This is backwards, I was gonna do you.”

“After.” David flung the covers aside and wasted no time in closing his fist around his husband’s cock, setting up the rhythm Patrick liked, alternating long strokes with focused attention on the head while Patrick groaned and clutched at David’s arm. “Want anything else? I can finger you open, or get the vibrator—”

“Next time,” Patrick said, his hips thrusting against David’s fist. “Just this is gonna make me come pretty easily.”

“Yeah?” David kissed him and it was sloppy and kind of desperate, and he wondered not for the first time how they still managed to do this, go from lazy banter to being so hungry for each other they could hardly stand not to be touching.

“Yeah. Fuck, do it harder,” Patrick gasped and David did, squeezing and pumping his fist until Patrick came with a pained moan through his clenched teeth, his hips jerking and then slowing to a stop.

“God, you’re so easy,” David said, grinning smugly as he wiped his hand off on Patrick’s t-shirt. Patrick regained his breath, and then sat up in a crunch and pulled his t-shirt off, wiping his stomach clean and tossing it aside. They switched positions, but Patrick paused before he took David’s cock in his hand. “Would you rather have a blowjob?”

“No, this is good. Although can you…” He trailed off in a moan as Patrick stroked him. “Can you put your fingers inside me?”

“Yeah.” Patrick kissed him on the cheek.

David kicked his sleep pants the rest of the way off while Patrick sat up and helped himself to more lube. Then his hands were everywhere, stroking David’s cock and fingering him open, and David threw his head back and let himself feel all of it. When Patrick crooked his fingers and rubbed against his prostate at the same pace that he was stroking David’s cock with the other hand, David was a goner. He came in such record time that it should have been embarrassing.

“Fuck, you’re too good at that,” David gasped as he reached out a grabbed a fresh clean-up rag from his bedside table.

“I memorized the cheat codes to a David Rose orgasm more than ten years ago,” Patrick called as he was walking to the bathroom to clean up his hands.

“Mm hmm. Well done.” He was barely aware of Patrick getting back into bed and settling the duvet over him, and with his last shred of consciousness, he reached out and touched his husband’s hand.

“I love you.”

“Love you, too. Goodnight, David.”

“Night.”

[prettywordsyouleft]

Love Error

milkandheonnie said:

I am probably too late (as always), but it's worth a shot: I dare you to write Woong in your Becoming Human world.

Pairing: Jeon Woong x reader

World: Becoming Human (read HERE)

Genre: robot au / fluff

Warnings: none

Word count: 3051

You weren’t too worried about the complications of taking your work home with you. Sure, you had been debriefed before leaving the lab and it was no secret within the company that falling in love with your work could be a possibility.

After all, your team leader was complete proof of that. Leo had fallen in love with Yerin and fought through everything that separated them from having an organic connection, one that indicated love could exist between anyone.

Even between a robot and human.

But when it came to you, well, you had no interest in love. You were married, for lack of a better term, to your job and held no desire for anything further than that. What made your heart beat faster was watching artificial intelligence mature. When a circuit board you had spent hours on got fired up for the first run and it’s successful. As a computer scientist, you had a love for facts. For things you could see occur before you.

Feelings weren’t something you dabbled in, even when it came to your job.

“I’ll be fine, you don’t have to worry about us,” you assured Leo as he hesitated in handing over the package that contained all the information about the Woong bot beside you. You took it from his hand and smiled. “I’m only going to be working on sharpening up his errors. Nothing more.”

“That’s what I said,” a voice interjected, smiling at you both before stopping beside her husband. Kissing Leo’s cheek, Yerin then giggled. “Don’t say we didn’t warn you.”

You grinned, despite feeling confident that what had happened to them would never occur for you. “I’ll owe you if anything does!”

“Oh, make a list of rules, even so. You don’t know how long he’ll be staying for and…” Yerin turned to look at Leo in distaste as he regarded her with a dark look and then she sighed. “It’s always better to be safe than sorry.”

“I expect a full report by the end of the week of how your testing pans out, Y/N. Shall we, my hard to please wife?”

“For that, you’ll be cooking dinner,” Yerin remarked as the couple waved you off and you listened to their banter with a warm smile before turning to the bot beside you.

Kboy Cyborgs had taken off years ago, though with the advances in robotics thanks to Leo’s near human-like emotions, they had truly changed the world. Kboys were everywhere and the first line of Kgirls was already in the testing phase. You had been working on them for some time now, so it was going to be far too easy to work with Woong over the week out of the office. He was already an established robot, though he had malfunctioned during staff training. Although he was still running online, and as you gestured for him to follow you to the underground parking lot, in which he did with ease, you had a lot to fix before he could go out and be in the world. It wouldn’t take you more than the week to fix and even though most people liked the idea of having a relaxing time away from the office, you were looking forward to this additional project.

Woong cleared his throat and caught your attention once you were both seated in your car. “So are we off to your house now, noona?”

“We are,” you confirmed as you navigated the evening traffic. It was odd to have a travel buddy when you normally drove home in silence. However, Woong was curious and asked many questions on the ride to your apartment.

Which didn’t stop once inside your home. “Wow, do you live here alone?”

“Yes, it’s just me.”

“Don’t you get bored? Do you own a cat? My sources indicate a lot of people who are live alone have feline companions. A dog, given your dedication to the lab, would be impractical.”

You stared at the robot and then sighed. “No, I don’t have a cat.”

“Are you allergic? Would you like one? I could search through adoption advertisements right now-”

“No, I’m fine without one, thank you Woong.”

His lips pulled together with a slight purse before he smiled and walked towards your bookshelf. “Wow, may I read these?”

“Sure.”

He then darted into your kitchen. “Should I make us some dinner? I have the appropriate functions installed to eat food. We can share our first meal together!”

You didn’t respond, feeling exhausted with how he flitted about your apartment so quickly. Was this why Yerin suggested rules? Had Leo been like this as well? You had a lot to decipher about this bot, but with how much he was chattering, you did the best thing to solve the issue. Swiftly, you reached for the button at the back of his neck, sending him off to sleep.

And then you took in a deep breath, relaxing into the silence that enveloped you.

You had no idea how anyone could live with a Kboy full time.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t leave Woong offline to get your work done. So, once you were sufficiently fed and ready to, you turned him back on, his eyes blinking rapidly as he processed new information. He gasped at you noisily which surprised you. “I was offline for three hours?! Why would you do that?”

“Okay, Woong. Let’s get some facts in place. You’re here for me to work on. Not to become my friend or anything like that-”

“But I would like to become friends with you,” he mentioned with a pout and you heaved a deep breath, trying not to focus on his expression. You felt a surge of guilt over his surprise at being shut off and it was the last thing you wished to entertain today.

You cleared your throat. “We will begin work on your processing error. I’m going to attach my laptop to you and if anything feels odd as I work, I need you to mention it immediately, okay?”

“Of course. I want to be functioning at the best I can because that means one day someone will want to be my friend.”

You tried not to play into his pettiness, ignoring the way he folded his arms across his chest. You didn’t know a lot about the living Woong, but so far your experience with the robot form was definitely more than you had expected. He seemed so polite and quiet in the introduction video you had watched earlier. Right now, he was very playful and easily offended. You wondered if there was an error in his programming there too. Then again, Kboys had evolved into becoming their own sentient beings. Base traits were installed from the idol modelling, but each bot had the ability to grow their intelligence.

This Woong perhaps was just like this naturally.

Thankfully, he was incredibly helpful during your initial testing. Whenever he found a circuit that ran too slowly or diverted, he let you know immediately. You had developed a solid working relationship already that you could appreciate. This remained the same over the next three days, and if it wasn’t for his efficiency whilst you worked – which you chose to do for the majority of your time together – you were certain you would have gone insane with all his endless chatter.

Unplugging your laptop on your fourth session, you smiled at him. “Thank you, Woong. That will be all for tonight.”

“Will you charge now?”

You smiled at the endearing term for sleep. Nodding, you got up and stretched your tired limbs. “I will be going to bed. Please, don’t make too much noise like last night. Perhaps you could read the books as you requested when you first came to stay.”

“Charge well, noona,” he said with the widest smile. You blinked, it was so genuine and you were confused at why you chest tightened. “I’ll promise to be silent.”

You awoke to a high pitched scream, jolting upright just in time for your bedroom door to be thrown open, Woong dashing into your room in terror.

You were completely distressed by everything that was happening, especially when the robot climbed up onto your bed and tried to hide behind you.

“What is going on?”

“Oh, noona! It’s GIANT!”

“What is?”

“The… the… oh my god, I can’t say it. But it’s so big and I was just sitting there reading my thirty-fourth book for the evening when it crawled my way and-” He let out an unintelligible whine, shuddering from head to toe.

You frowned. “A bug?”

“A BUG!”

“But Woong, you’re a robot. A bug shouldn’t scare you,” you explained, attempting to move him away from your pillows. You were too tired for this kind of interruption. Honestly, a bug?! A robot like Woong could kill it with ease. You knew you would have to report this behaviour to Leo, you weren’t aware of such a trait.

However, Woong refused to move off your bed. “I’m not going back out there.”

“Woong, I’m sleeping!”

“I’ll be quiet in here! Just don’t send me back out there to the bug!” he pleaded, and perhaps because you were too tired to remain awake for much longer, you waved him off, laying down again and rolling onto your side away from your work guest. Woong breathed out a relieved sigh and then laid down too. “Thank you for your acceptance.”

“I just want to sleep Woong, that’s all there is to it.”

And boy, did you sleep well. You had possibly the best sleep that you could remember. You were just the right temperature, not overly hot that you needed to kick off the blankets, and not too cold either. When you finally woke up, you didn’t quite want to get up. You were content.

It was during this moment you became aware of what was happening around you. Or, more specifically, what was on you. Opening your eyes quickly, you glanced down at the arm over your waist and felt a leg over yours. The firm chest that was imprinted in your back cradled your entire body and at first, you were surprised to find yourself so relaxed in the arms of the soundly sleeping robot.

And then you were frantic. “Woong!”

“What?” he mumbled, nestling in further. You gasped and slapped his arm off. “Why are you moving, I was comfortable.”

“You cannot sleep with me!” As soon as you were free to leap out of your bed, you did so, eyes wide when you found that Woong’s shirt had been removed. Darting your eyes to the ceiling, you attempted to calm yourself down. But your mind connected on a thought and you pointed at him incredulously. “Please tell me you didn’t infiltrate the old AI modes. You’re not in lover mode, are you?!”

“What is a lover mode? I was just charging. Besides, it was you who did it first. In the middle of the night, you turned around and snuggled into me saying I was the right temperature to cool you down and that you loved the sound of my system purring along.” Woong knelt upon your bed after fetching his shirt and threw it over his head. And then he smirked. “You even called me your cat. Are you adopting me, noona?”

“You’re making that up.”

He shifted closer. “Want to read my memory card?”

“No wonder Yerin warned me,” you breathed, shaking your head and then pointed to the door. “Out you go, it’s time for breakfast.

The humour fell from his expression, and instead, he looked concerned. “You’re coming right?”

“Why?”

“The bug, it might still be out there.”

“Oh good grief,” you chimed, heading for the door. Woong stepped in behind you, peering around you. After searching the entire space for the bug and coming up empty, Woong relaxed and started making you breakfast.

It was surprisingly a nice experience to share a meal with someone and it had become your favourite part of the day so far this week. You didn’t really talk, Woong was somewhat aware now of your prickly mannerisms, simply shooting you several smiles over the meal. You couldn’t help but feel comfortable around him by the time you were ready to work on his processing again.

Much like yesterday, you worked on his system directory and Woong helped you figure out the issues. You had already debugged three pathways and were working on the fourth when he yelped in pain.

“Are you okay?!”

“Ow, my neck!” he cried and you looked at the hand he had raised to cup it, gently reaching out to slip your hand to where it was. You gasped when you saw the bug there, darting your focus to Woong’s face. How had he felt the bite of the bug? Of course, being bloodless, the bug had just died upon contact, but it surprised you all the same.

“You, you really felt that?”

“What was it?”

“The bug, it bit you. It’s dead, don’t panic,” you added on as he went to move and he relaxed, frowning about his experience. You checked the area of his skin. “You even have a mark. How did that happen?”

“Well our skin is fired by circuits remember, it makes sense I would feel it if I can feel the touch of your hand on me as well,” he mentioned, his tone sounding thicker. You glanced down at him and away from where your hand resided, Woong looking up at you wholly. “I can feel you.”

Where it came from, even you were surprised. The words you had proclaimed to your team leader swirled around in your mind as your lips pressed to Woong’s, his own passionately moving against yours. Somehow, in the midst of the embrace, you found yourself pulled onto him, sitting in his lap as the kiss deepened. And just like the circuits you worked with day in and out, you felt a surge fire pathways throughout you. From your lips all the way to your toes, everything felt alive and open.

You were overwhelmed.

“I felt that the most,” he breathed when you pulled away, and you gasped, lifting your hand to your mouth in realisation. Woong smiled, tenderly pushing your hair behind an ear. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

“Remember what?”

“January seventh, twenty-nineteen.”

“That was my first day in the lab,” you replied immediately, brows knitting together. “How do you know that?”

“Because on your first day you made a mistake with a robot and cried about it.”

You stared back at him, the memory resurfacing. You had been given a simple task of placing a memory chip into a robot in your first assignment, accidentally hitting a main circuit in the process. You had been told to fix it before you went home and to learn all about why circuits were critical. That moment in time had led you to become the best at repairing circuits in the entire laboratory.

How did Woong know this though?

He smiled, gently rubbing your back. “It’s okay, mistakes happen and I’ll be fine. Just like right now, with the bug. I’m okay.”

His words felt familiar and you snapped your focus to his face. “It was you. I made the mistake with you.”

“I mean, it’s fair. I didn’t have this face back then. Or any face,” he replied, cringing at the memory. Then he smiled. “But I hoped you would remember me. You told me that I would be your favourite robot if I survived. And I have.”

“Why didn’t you tell me beforehand?” you wondered and Woong smiled. “You knew I wouldn’t let you come home with me?”

“For a closed off human, you’re pretty easy for me to read, Y/N. I think we’re meant to be.”

“Oh no,” you rebutted, shaking your head with a laugh. “I’m not about to go that far. It was one kiss.”

“We could have more,” he offered, leaning in closer. “I’ve always liked you, after all.”

You blinked rapidly, that thick tone was a curse and you were entrapped by it. Pushing Woong back, you laughed. “Easy.”

“Okay, so it’s too fast. I get it. Even though both times you’ve initiated everything, noona. Just remember that.” He laid back down and then pointed to your computer. A picture of complete innocence. You scoffed. “Aren’t we working right now?”

“What am I going to tell Leo on Monday?” you wondered aloud, heaving in a deep breath before leaning down to capture his lips again. After the kiss ended, Woong grinned up at you.

“Tell him there were more issues underlying the ones we knew of and that I need further testing.”

“Then he can do that in the lab.” Woong shook his head. “I only trust you inside my mind.”

“I don’t trust you getting inside of mine.”

“Why, are you afraid you might fall in love with me?” he mused, smiling up at you.

“Well, I did make a mistake with you in the past, and you’re still full of errors. I guess it is up to me to fix them.”

“One kiss at a time?” he suggested and you moved back to your laptop, working your way quickly through his memory bank to see your name clearly there from when his memory card was inserted. You smiled.

“Let’s just see how the rest of this week goes. I might want to trade you in for something better.”

“Hey!”

You glanced up, grinning wickedly. “Well, you opened my heart up to like more than just the circuits running inside of you. I should get a model that I find physically attractive.”

“Are you saying you… wow.”

You then wrote a code into his mind, logging it there permanently. It silenced Woong as he recognised it. “I have a love error?”

“Yep, my diagnosis is that your circuits are so messed up because of me. I’ll have to tell Leo, I’ve made an error that’s going to take a while to solve.”

Woong sat up and nodded. “And since you’re so good at figuring out how to work with my circuits, I’ll definitely make sure we share that same error by the time Monday comes around.”

_________________

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[dolcenco]

Ay, Mami Likes It Rough

(CNCO x Reader)

Plot: Spa day shenanigans with CNCO

Warning/s: Semi-naked CNCO and a small smut-ish scene in the end!

Syrah’s Note: I actually had fun writing this. Also, please note that these are the same characters from my other fic: I’m So Wet. Lastly, thank you to everyone who love and support my writing and fics, it means so much to me that people actually like them 😭💕 Don’t forget to leave feed-back, loves.

But now, on to the story!

-

You and Joel decided to spend the day hanging out in his hotel room while the other boys were doing whatever shenanigans they do on a day-off.

You were on the bed laying on your stomach, editing the latest CNCOMonday video while Joel was in the bathroom, too busy staring at his zit for the past thirty minutes.

It was bearable at first until he starts complaining about his monstrosity of a pimple.

“(Yyyyy/n), it’s huge!” Joel whines for the nth time that morning and being his good friend / media manager, you ignored him.

“uUURGH! (Y/N)!”

You sighed in annoyance and rolled out of bed. You trudged into the bathroom and grabbed Joel’s face forcefully, making him look at you. 

You grimaced when you saw the popped zit and finally get why he was complaining. It was sitting on top of his nose in all its oozing red glory.

“Ooooh, that’s one hella godzilla.”

He glares at you as you release his cheeks and sighed at this man-child.

”Joelito, sweetie, you’re not supposed to pop a zit when it’s fresh and not ready, now that’s gonna scar,”

“What?!” he panics and was about to pick at it again when you slapped his hand away from his face.

“Ay dios mio, Joel!” you scolded, flicking his forehead. “What did I just say? did you even wash your hands?!”

He ignores you and continues to intently stare at it as if it was going to magically disappear.

“Just wait it out a few days, you won’t die.” You say and start to walk back to the room but he grabs your arm and pulls you back.

“Make it disappear, pweaaaase,” He begs, his two hands clamped together below his chin.

You frowned, “Do I look like the zit fairy to you? If only we can-no, wait that’s it! I know what we’re gonna do today!”

“What?”

You grinned at him, getting all excited for your amazing idea. You dashed to your hotel room and returned back to Joel’s with your skin care essentials and numerous face masks. You even brought your small humidifier with you. 

After preparing everything, you and Joel decided to have a stress-free, relaxing spa day. It was not long until you both were lounging on his bed in your bathrobes, sipping chamomile tea with clay mask on.

You both sighed in contentment as the room filled with the scent of lavender and calming sound of spa music. 

“So…” Joel starts as you take a sip from your cup.

“Are you falling for Chris?”

You spat your drink, coughing while you clapped on your chest from your sudden outburst. Once you got it together, you glared at Joel. 

“Of course n-“

Your reply was cut short by a sudden knock on the door. 

You and Joel froze giving each other a knowing look. No way you’re going to let anyone see you both with a face mask on, so you both pointed at each other.

“You get it,” You say at the same time. 

“Admit that you’re falling for Chris and I will get the door,” Joel says with a devilish grin on his face.

“You’re the one with godzilla on your nose!” You retorted and he glares at you in return.

When you realize he wasn’t going to budge anytime soon, you groaned and hopped out of bed. You reluctantly opened the door and sighed in relief when you find Zabdiel on his phone texting as he leaned against the doorframe. 

“What can I help you with zabdaddy?”

We got to admit. Zabdiel is the absolute daddy, hence, the fitting nickname you gave him. He didn’t mind you using it but what you didn’t know is that he secretly likes it when you called him daddy. 

He looks up and was slightly taken aback when he saw you in your face mask but stifled a giggle because he was just sweet like that. “Que estas haciendo?”

“Joel and I are having a spa day, wanna join?”

He smiles and shrugs in response. You let him in, closing the door behind you. He sighs when the lavender scent hits his nose, feeling relaxed already.

“(Y/N), who was it?” Joel asks lifting one cucumber from his eye.

Zabdiel laughs at the sight of Joel and takes a photo, “Te ves ridicula,”

Joel snickers, placing the cucumber back and murmurs, “Still perfect though,”

You instructed Zabdiel to change into the spare bathrobe Joel had in his hotel room while you prepare the clay mask for him. 

Moments later, you were briefly interrupted again with a knock on the door and when you open it Richard and Erick enter with a bottle of wine and drinking glasses. They were wearing their bathrobes untied so their chest and abs were exposed.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked closing the door behind them.

“Zab told us that you were having a spa day and your daddy needs relaxing.” Richard says setting down the wine on the table before plopping next to Joel, taking a cucumber off his eye and eating it.

Zabdiel emerges from the bathroom with his bathrobe on, setting his neatly folded clothes on the table. “I’m ready!” He exclaims with so much enthusiasm.

You sat on the sofa with the bowl of clay mask mixture and patted your lap, “Come lay here, Zab”

He sits next to you and rests his head on your lap as you begin applying the paste mixture. He hisses the moment the mossy green substance touches his face. 

Erick sits on the floor next to you like the little kid he is, dipping his finger in the bowl and taking some of the paste on his finger.

“Is this edible?” He asks sniffing the mixture.

“I don’t think-ERICK COLON DON’T EAT IT, GOD!” You slapped his hand away from his mouth when he was about to lick off the mixture from his finger. 

“Sooo, (Y/N)......” Richard begins, “Are you and a certain someone dating?”

“Who?” You retort mindlessly, mixing the paste. When you were about to apply it on Zabdiel again, he was already looking at you expectantly. Even Erick looked amused.

“I’m not dating anyone,” You clarified, knowing damn well who they were referring to but hey it was true. You weren’t dating anyone. Sure, you shared flirty banters but it was nothing. 

“Oh, you’re not dating our laughing ass boy?” Richard grins from ear to ear in amusement waiting for your reaction.

You sighed in exasperation. If you get a dollar for every time someone asks you that question, you’d be a billionaire by now. 

“We’re not dating!” You snarled, throwing a face towel at him.

“Sure you aren’t, kiddo,” Joel pats the top of your head, making his way to pour Richard and himself a glass of wine.

Before you could protest, a knock interrupts you once again, halting the conversation.

Did the boys arrange a party or what? 

You made your way over to the door and when you opened it, you were greeted by the devil himself: Christopher Velez.

And he was topless and wearing only his boxers.

 Oh my god, damn this pendejo and his sex appeal. 

You shot the image of you running your fingers across his chest immediately when you hear him cough.

You didn’t realize you were gaping at him until he smirks and says, “You like what you see?”

With that, CNCO spa day chaos has commenced.

-

That afternoon, the spa day turned out to be the complete opposite of what you expected. It wasn’t the soft-kind of relaxing you and Joel opted for but it was rather amusing…

Richard was pinning Erick down on the floor, doodling on his face with the clay mask while Chris filmed his helpless friend for his instagram story. On the other side of the room, Zabdiel was giving Joel a full-on back massage, behaving like the good little children they were.

There came a point that you had to take the bowl of clay mask away from them because Richard and Erick thought it would be a great idea for Chris to taste the healing clay mask.

When night fell you were finally at peace when the boys decided to settle down for pop-corn and netflix. Erick and Joel were on their makeshift bed of blankets and pillows on the floor while Richard and Zabdiel occupied the bed.

As for you and Chris? You both sat on the couch with Chris laying in between your legs and his head on your lap as you stroked his hair absentmindedly. Every time you stopped, he would squeeze your hand, telling you to continue.

And yes, you were just friends. 

While you were focused on the movie, you can’t help but notice from the corner of your eye: a bulge forming in Chris’ boxers. You snorted and Chris looks up at you, confused. “What’s so funny?”

You shrugged and giggled, “Maybe you wanna calm down a bit?” you say, your eyes looking over his bulge. He follows your gaze and smirks. He chuckles before drawing his attention back to you.

“Or maybe you can not be boring and help me calm down?”

You blinked. You didn’t know if he was joking or not.

But hey, you don’t mind helping him with his little problem, oops.

“You’re such a horny ass shit, aren’t you,” You tugged on his fringe for his crude comment but only to have him respond with another.

“Ay Mami likes it rough,” He smirks, wiggling his eyebrows up and down.

“Ugh, you’re so annoying!” You groaned, flicking his forehead.

“Get a room!” Erick yells.

“Ooooh, Chris and (Y/N) -” Before Richard can finish his sentence, you glare at him menacingly threatening to color his nails as you did with Erick, who was furiously removing the nail polish.

Everyone continued watching the movie but as minutes pass, the boys grew sleepier and sleepier. Zabdiel was the first to retire and slept on the bed. Erick and Richard went back to their rooms while Joel fell asleep half-way through the movie.

You and Chris managed to switch positions wherein he was sitting upright and you were laying down with your legs on his lap. You yawned and blinked the sleepiness away.

“Tired?” Chris looks down at you, rubbing his hands on your legs which sent chills through your body.

“A little,” You murmured and he looks at his phone to check the time.

“It’s late, I better go.” He said gently lifting you legs from his lap as he stood up, placing them back on the couch. You were kind of disappointed that he didn’t want to stay and sleep together but hey, it’s whatever, right?

“Okaaaay” You said sleepily, reaching out your arms to him for a good night hug. He giggles at how cute you looked. 

“Good night, babe,” He says, leaning down to give you a hug and your wrapped your arms around his neck.

You feel him nuzzle into your neck but what he did next caught you by surprise.

You let out a breathy moan when you suddenly feel Chris kiss your neck, gently sucking on the skin before giving the spot a small lick.

Before you could react, he pulls away and kisses your forehead. You stare at him in disbelief as he opens the door, blows you a kiss and finally exits the room, leaving you hot and bothered.

Your hand flies to to the spot on your neck where he kissed you, the sensation of his lips lingering as you sat there in shock.

What the hell just happened? Why did he do it? I wasn’t drunk enough, he wasn’t drunk enough. Did he like me that way? I mean, I liked him but what????????

Thoughts raced through your head and you couldn’t sleep that night but before the night ended, you thought to yourself:

I am 72 shades of done with Christopher Velez.