#and i think this will fit so perfectly because i used to want crust pants so badly

[draculiza]

today's craft: turning my old jeans into a crust skirt

[the-froschamethyst4]

“So do you speak English or Spanish?”

𖤐Pairing: Husband! Daddy! Alejandro x Wife! Mommy! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: fluff, wholesome, husband and wife, children, school, badly translated Spanish

Alejandro’s and Y/n’s kids go to school their oldest son Santiago is in 4th grade and their daughter Maria is in 2nd grade

They mainly speak English because of their mom but occasionally speak Spanish because of their papi, it’s not good Spanish because their still learning but they speak it

But what happens when both accidentally let the Spanish slit out every once and a while confusing their classmates

———————

———————

Y/n had woken up from her daughter knocking on her bedroom door. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, she smiled and looked at her daughter.

“Good morning, baby,” she smiles. She opened her arms and Maira came running and hugging her mom.

“Mami, I don’t want to go to school,” she whines.

“I know, baby, school sucks, but you have to go and be smart, like your papi and I,” Y/n said kissing her daughters forehead.

“Okay,” she whines and got off the bed and went to her bedroom to get dressed for school.

Y/n rolled out of her bed and saw her son Santiago walk passed the bedroom door.

“Santi? What are you wearing?” Y/n asked as she made the bed and she heard Santiago groan and walk back to the bedroom door.

“Just clothes.” Santiago was wearing a light blue t-shirt, black jeans and black vans.

“Santiago, it’s almost eighty degrees outside.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Santiago, I don’t want to get a call from your school that you passed out because I let you walk out in jeans, go put shorts on,” she said as he groaned and walked back to his bedroom to change.

Y/n put her hair up and changed out of her pajamas to some more professional clothing because of where she works.

“SANTI! MARIA! COME ON THE BUS WILL BE HERE SOON!!” Y/n said as she gave Maria a pop tart and Santiago one too. “Just eat it on the bus.”

“But we’re not allowed to eat on the bus,” Maria said.

“Sneak it,” Y/n said as she kissed her sons and daughters head and watched them leave the house to their normal bus stop.

“Santi, I’m not really hungry,” Maria said, picking at the crust around the pop tart.

“What? You’re always hungry,” Santiago said as he stuffed his face.

“Not today,” she said, giving her breakfast to her oldest brother. He didn't hesitate to wolf down the food.

"Why aren't you eating, mami and papi are gonna be mad if they find out you haven't been eating breakfast."

"I eat lunch, that's good enough," Maria said as one of Santiago's friends Luis came running to the bus stop, he was out of breath and his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath.

"Jesus...my mom didn't wake me up...till...5 minutes...ago," he pants, Santiago chuckles and Maria just rolled her eyes.

--------

Y/n walked into her work and sat her stuff down, she worked around a bunch of women who always talked about their lives, husbands, girlfriends and kids. Y/n fit in with them perfectly because of her almost being just like them.

Since Y/n's kids are bilingual, she'll sometimes talk about how Maria will sometimes mess up words in Spanish and it's all cute, and she'll even talk about when Santiago was little always confusing some words in Spanish and English.

"Good morning, Y/n," Briella said with a smile on her face, she was the oldest employee who has been there almost since the start of the company, and funny thing is she's only 4 years younger than Y/n.

"Good morning, Briella, how's Gracie?"

"Good, she almost missed the bus this morning."

"The same with mine, but they got out just in time," she smiles as she clocked in.

"Hey, Y/n, we're going to the local bar downtown if you wanna come and join us?" Regan the companies General Manager and good friend to Y/n came up to her cubical and asked.

"Umm~ I'll think about it, I have to see if Alejandro is okay watching the kids for a while."

"Please, from how you talk about him, I'm pretty sure if you said you were going to the moon and won't be back for a year, he'll watch the kids for you."

"I know," she laughs. "But it never hurts to ask," as she say that she grabbed her phone and texted Alejandro.

Alejandro did stocks and worked very hard, almost every morning he was in a meeting, but Y/n had to at least ask to see if he was okay with it.

Mi Amor: Alejandro, I'm going to a bar with some of the girls from work, are you okay with watching the kids, while I'm gone?

Husband: I fine with anything, mi amor, you know I'll watch them

Mi Amor: Thank you, Ale, I owe you.

Husband: Yeah you do😏

Mi Amor: Nasty

Alejandro smirked at the text and slid his phone back into his pocket to listen to his boss.

"He said he's fine with it, guess I'm coming," she giggled, and the girls cheered.

--------

"Alright, everyone let's go ahead and do this assignment, we are going to be doing a color by number, sheet for multiplication," Santiago's teacher Mrs.Finch announced to the class.

"Santiago, can you get me a blue," Santiago's other friend Mark said as Santiago was already up to go get his colors.

"Sure," Santiago said.

Santiago had his sheet in his hand to see what colors he needed.

"Rojo, azul, amarillo, verde, morado, negro, marron, (red, blue, yellow, green, purple, black, brown)." Santiago mumbled to himself, he liked speaking Spanish when it came to certain things, like colors, animals, plants, sports, stores, but he hardly did it in school.

"What are you saying?" A little girl named Jules came up next to Santiago.

"Huh?"

"What are you saying? That's not English, is that a made-up language?" She asked. Santiago was a little suspicious on how she's never heard Spanish before.

"It's Spanish," he told her.

"But you speak English." Jules said, crossing her arms.

"I'm bilingual," Santiago said.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, I speak two languages, English and Spanish, my mom speaks English and my papi speaks Spanish."

"Have you really never heard him speak Spanish before?" Mark asked Jules.

"No," she said with some attitude behind it. "I've never even heard of bilingual before, that seems made up."

"It's not," Santiago said.

"So, say something then in Spanish."

"Okay," without hesitation Santiago immediately thought of something. "Jules es una gran cabeza tonta y estúpida," he smirks.

"What does that mean?" Jules asked.

"It means. Jules is a big dumb stupid head," Santiago was proud and Jules stormed off to go find Mrs.Finch.

Santiago, Mark and Luis all laughed.

---------

Maria sat on her colored square on the Teacher's rug as they started to sing a song that went along with a book they were reading. Maria could barely keep up because some of the words were difficult.

Soon the song was over and Maria let out a small huff.

"Vaya, eso fue difícil (Geez, that was difficult)." Maria mumbled.

"Huh? What was that?"

"I said it was difficult."

"But how did you say it?"

"In Spanish," Maria said, confused.

"Spanish, I never heard Spanish like that before, I should know, I'm Spanish," the girl whose name was Bella, tried to flex that she knew Spanish but in reality, she didn't, she wanted to be different.

"Okay~ say something then if you know it," Maria asked.

"Fine, Mi perra come gusanos," she said, smirking at Maria like she just did something.

"You just said my dog eats worms," Maria said as some of the kids that surrounded them laughed at Bella.

"No, I said I'm the best."

"That would be something like this Soy el mejor, not what you just said," Maria said.

"Whatever."

"It's impressive that you do know it, you just have to learn your grammar and how to actually make a proper sentence," Maria giggled.

Bella walked away and Maria went back to her cubby grabbing a book to read.

-----------

Alejandro walked through the door of his home and set everything down by the door. He took off his shoes and loosened his tie, he took off his blazer and set it on the coat rack.

He went upstairs to go take a shower before having to go get the kids off the bus.

Soon he got out and put on black t-shirt and gray sweatpants. He went outside the porch and leaned on the railing to wait for his kids. He saw the bus up ahead stopping at a kid's house and then to the bus stop. Alejandro smiled seeing his daughter get off first and she came running towards him.

"PAPI!!" She yells, Alejandro smiled and walked down to pick her up, he kissed her forehead as they waited for Santiago next, which wasn't long.

Santiago smiled seeing his dad home.

"Come on, it's just us tonight, mami is out with some co-worker friends." He says.

"Does that mean we get McDonald's for dinner?" Maria asked.

"Do you want some?" He asked and Maria just excitedly nodded her head. "Alright, we can get some, do you want McDonald's Santiago?"

"Yeah, that's fine," Santiago asked, taking his bookbag off his shoulders.

"Alright go get out of your school clothes and we'll head there," Alejandro smiles.

--------

Once in the car, Alejandro saw his two kids have a big smile on their faces.

"Why are you two so smiley?" He asks.

"Because I stood up to some girl," Santiago said first.

"HEY I DID TOO!" Maria yelled.

"What do you mean?" Alejandro asked.

"Some girl named Jules in my class asked what language I was speaking, and I told her Spanish and then she asked me to say something in Spanish and I called her a stupid head," Santiago and Maria both laughed.

"I said some girl in my class said her dog liked to eat worms and she thought she said she was the best, but I told her how that would sound versus what she said," Alejandro was proud that his kids stood up to some kids.

Alejandro was also proud that his kids weren't ashamed of their Spanish side and put some people in their places.

"I'm proud of both of you, but Santiago next time don't call her a stupid head, maybe something more clever next time," Alejandro chuckled.

"Okay, papi," he smiles.

--------

Y/n was having a blast at the bar, her and the girls all singed and dance and enjoyed all their drinks they were getting. She looked at the time and saw she should get going and head home for the night.

At least she didn't drink too much, she didn't want to abandon her car at a random bar or take an UBER with a stranger.

She bid farewell to her friends and will see them at work tomorrow and headed home.

Once she arrived home, she could see the TV on in the living room hopefully the kids went to bed and it's just Alejandro still up. She opened the front door and saw it was her kid's favorite TV show Bluey, meaning the kids were still up.

She saw the tops of their heads on the couch, she creeped over to them all passed out together, Maria's head on Alejandro's right shoulder, Santiago on the other side, Alejandro's mouth open and head back with light snoring coming from him.

Alejandro's arm wrapped around Maria's waist and his other hand resting on Santiago's small leg, Y/n smiled at the scene in front of her and took a picture to remember it.

She turned off the TV and gently moved Alejandro's arm and hand and she gently picked up Maria first putting her bed then Santiago.

She came back downstairs and gently woke up her husband. His eyes fluttered open, once he saw her, he gave her the biggest smile ever.

"Hi, mi amor."

"Hi, guapa (handsome), come on, let's go to bed. I went ahead and put them two in bed."

"Did you have fun?" He asked as he walked behind her.

"I did, I should get out more often."

"You should, we had fun," he smiles as he plopped on his side of the bed and Y/n changed out of her work attire into her pajamas. She got on her side and cuddled up to her husband's side and kissed his jawline.

"Good night."

"Night, amor," he kissed the top of her head.

[mxndoscyarika]

Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice (Sam Wilson x fem!Reader) | Chapter 2: Apple Pie

Summary: Being best friends with Sarah Wilson was simultaneously the easiest and hardest thing you’ve ever experienced. You felt at home with the Wilsons, and helped raise Sarah’s children after her divorce and the Snap. But harboring feelings for her brother, Sam, and not being able to do anything about it hurt more than it should. When he comes back home between leads on Karli Morgenthau, with Bucky in tow, you can’t help but feel a spark of hope.

Ao3

Like my writing? Here’s my masterlist.

Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice masterlist

Author’s note: It’s been a bit of a wait, but it’s here! I love writing the reader and Sam’s dynamic, and how they fit together so well. Just one more chapter to go after this one, and their story will be complete 🥺 Enjoy!

Warnings: food, mutual pining, smut (semi-public, unprotected) - 18+ ONLY

< previous | next >

Sunlight streamed through the windows, golden beams striping across the counter where you and Sam stood, preparing apples for a pie. You had wanted to try out a new pie crust recipe, and had picked up more apples than you’d intended at the farmer’s market. It was funny how life worked out like that sometimes, like the universe was telling you to do what you love.

Sam’s arm brushed against yours as he placed a peeled apple onto your cutting board, the touch sending electricity up your arm. You weren’t sure why he was standing so close when there was plenty of space, but you didn’t want to complain. After all, this was the closest you’d ever get to being with him. Even if it had to end, you couldn’t help but imagine an alternate timeline where you and he were baking together because you loved each other.

“Those apples are gonna cook if you keep staring that hard,” Sam teased, bringing you out of your reverie. “What are you thinking about?”

You shrugged, trying to ignore the heat rushing to your face. “Nothing important.”

“It didn’t seem like it was nothing important,” he said softly, glancing at you. His breath caught as the light graced your face just right, highlighting your features with gold. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

You nodded, adding the sliced apples to a bowl. There was something you wished you could tell him, but it wasn’t just anything. It could ruin everything. “I know.”

With Sam and Bucky around, it was getting harder to hide your feelings. You knew that, Sarah knew that, and maybe even Bucky knew. Bucky was sweet, a gentleman at his core. He knew how to flirt around, but you weren’t quite enamored enough to fall for him. The man beside you was your perfect match, or so you hoped.

The sound of footsteps approached from behind.

“Whatcha making there, sweetheart?” Bucky asked, leaning into the small space between you and Sam. His broad frame nudged Sam out of the way, making the other man frown. “Anything I can help with?”

“No,” Sam said bluntly.

“We’re just making an apple pie for later tonight,” you answered, giving him a small smile. But as much as you liked the warm feeling of being close to another person, you already missed Sam. “And no, Sam and I should be able to get everything done ourselves. It’s just a couple more steps and then we’ll bake it.”

Bucky hummed in understanding, walking around to your other side, which allowed Sam to begrudgingly settle back next to you. “Are you sure? I’m pretty good with my hands…”

You let out a huff of laughter, shaking your head. “I’m sure you are, but we have everything under control here. Besides, you’re a guest.”

At last, Bucky relented and backed away, watching Sam amusedly. “Don’t have too much fun without me, kids.”

When Sam sighed in relief,  you looked over. “You alright, Sam?”

He chuckled softly, bracing his arms on the counter. “Yeah, I just find it funny how the abominable snowman comes to Louisiana and woos all the women in my life. I should’ve known that was gonna happen.”

Although he had a fond smile on his face, the spark was missing from his voice. He sounded almost sad.

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry, you’re still my favorite.”

Sam froze, dumbfounded. But then, beaming, he turned and pulled you into a tight hug. His strong arms wrapped around you and held you close as he swayed back and forth, laughing softly with you. You couldn’t help but wrap your arms tightly around his waist, resting your cheek against his chest. “I better be your favorite,” he teased. You thought you felt a gentle pressure against your temple, but you were too caught up in his scent of seawater and oranges to care. “I knew you first.”

---

“Sam?” you called, stepping onto the boat. In your hands was a tupperware with a slice of pie, the ice cream half melted and pooling at the bottom. After helping out, he’d gone to the docks to keep working on the family boat; he’d mentioned something about the engine needing to be fixed. So, you figured that you’d surprise him with his favorite dessert.

“Over here!” he replied, coming back up to meet you. The sleeves of his shirt were pushed up to his elbows, drawing your eyes to his muscular forearms and strong hands. “What do you have there?”

It took you a moment to realize that he asked you a question, making heat rush to your face. “Dessert. Well, a snack for you. You’ve been working all evening, so I wanted to make sure you had something to eat.”

You settled in the cockpit of the boat, basking in the familiar room.

“Okay, miss fairy god-baker,” he said, sitting down next to you. “Why don’t you take the first bite? You deserve it, of all people.”

Knowing he wouldn’t relent until you took a bite, you scooped up some of the crust, soft apples, and ice cream and slipped the fork into your mouth. The pie was still slightly warm, the apples spiced with cinnamon and a hint of molasses from the brown sugar and the ice cream cool and light on your tongue. The crust was just right, not too crumbly and not too sweet. You hummed in satisfaction, smiling sheepishly as you realized you’d just made a sound.

“How is it, baby?”

“It’s sweet,” you answered, assembling a bite for him. “Do you want to try some?”

You didn’t pay much attention to his low hum of affirmation until you glanced at him and saw he was watching you with a small smile.

The next few seconds were a blur as he leaned in and kissed you, lips melding against yours.

He tasted sweet, and you couldn’t help but set down the container so you could scoot closer. A shiver ran down your spine as his arms wrapped around your waist and held you. The warmth from his body surrounded you, bringing with it a peacefulness that you never knew you missed. It felt...right. Like your missing puzzle piece had finally clicked into place. Like you had found your home.

When you finally parted for air, Sam let out a chuckle. “You’re right. You’re very sweet.”

“I-I don’t understand-”

“It’s you,” he murmured, cupping your cheeks and kissing you sweetly. “It’s always been you. I’m tired of waiting and doubting myself. Doubting us.”

“I’ve wanted this for a very long time, Sam,” you began, your words soft between the kisses. “I’ve wanted you for a very long time.”

You often wondered what your life would’ve been like if you’d faced your feelings earlier. Would you be married? Would you and Sam have had a family? So much time had passed, it wasn’t hard to imagine the different ways your life could’ve gone.

A wave of anxiety washed over you. What if he didn’t really want you? What if you were just a distraction from his work? Part of you screamed to control yourself and consider the consequences, but another part of you told you to give it a chance. After all, it was Sam; he cared deeply and saw the best in everything. Maybe you could do the same, for once.

You had waited long enough. He had waited long enough.

“I want you too, honey,” he said, hands slipping down to guide your hips towards him. “Come up, baby.”

Your face burned as you realized what he wanted, but you couldn’t help shuffling closer. There was no doubt that he was strong; years of physical training had done him well. But nonetheless, you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. “I-I don’t want to squish you-”

“You won’t, baby,” he replied, groaning as you kissed him deeply. “I want you on top of me. Let me hold you...please.”

Unable to resist, you climbed onto his lap. Your arms went around his neck so you wouldn’t slide off; not that you were going to. Sam’s hands rested respectfully on your waist, pressing gently to keep you close. You never quite realized how big they were until then; those were the same hands that tickled you back in high school, held yours during dances, and saved the world.

His lips were as soft as you imagined, the years of holding out and waiting poured into each movement. Your hips involuntarily started shifting against him, making him groan softly. A soft laugh escaped your lips as he encouraged your movements. It wasn’t long until you felt him pressed against your core. Though, you’d have been lying if you said you weren’t affected yourself. Every movement stoked the flame in your lower belly, reminding you of just how long you’d been dreaming for this moment.

“I need you,” you gasped, shuddering as his lips trailed down your neck. “Sam…”

“I know, baby,” he soothed, his fingers tracing the top of your pants. “I need you, too. Do you want this? I need to hear you say it, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you answered, tugging at his hands so he would take them off faster. “I want you inside me. I want to feel you.”

“I want you, too,” he said, his voice like velvet. “I’ve dreamt of you for so long.”

You were glad there was no one around as you stepped out of your pants and pulled off your shirt and bra. The change in temperature made you shiver, along with the sight of Sam undressing himself.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he mused, watching with hooded eyes as you straddled his hips. Your hips fit against his perfectly, nestled against him. Without the barrier of clothing, you could feel everything, from his soft skin to his rippling muscles. The only way that it could’ve been better was if he was inside of you.

You reached down and stroked his length slowly, rubbing your thumb across the tip. A soft laugh left your lips as he gasped your name and bucked his hips into your hand, clear fluid beading at the tip. If you weren’t on a boat, you would’ve taken more time to taste him. But that could be saved for later, when you and Sam were home.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmured, leaning in for a kiss. Once you felt his lips against yours, you knew you were done for. No one could take you away from him. “Are you ready?”

“I think a better question is, are you ready?” he mused, slipping his hand down to rub slow circles on your bundle of nerves. A smirk appeared on his face as he found you slick and pliant, the tips of his fingers shining with your arousal. “Next time, I’m gonna make it up to you. We have years to make up for, babe.”

A gasp left your lips as the head of his cock slipped into you; it was thicker than you’d expected. You could tell he was going to fill you perfectly, grinding against all the areas that made you moan.

The touch of his thumb against your clit made sliding down on him easier, each flutter of your walls letting him go deeper. By the time he was seated fully inside you, you were a mess. Your breaths were shallow and your hands roamed his chest.

Your breath caught in your throat as you started moving, lifting your hips before sinking back down.

Sam couldn’t seem to get enough of you, his hands roaming your body and squeezing and caressing until you felt like you were going to combust.

“Sam, please,” you moaned, bouncing on his cock. Every time you sank down, he ground against that sensitive area inside you. You dripped down his length as you slowly lost control, your arousal collecting at the base until it looked like he was leaking out of you.

You moved against each other with an indulgent drag, as if everything was going to turn to dust again. The life you shared was a gift, one that you no longer wanted to waste. You wanted to spend the rest of your years with him, wanted to have his children. Just the thought of him filling you made you clench so tightly that you had to stop, hovering on the precipice of ecstasy.

As you sank back down, you were pushed over the edge.

Sam’s name left your lips as you came, swirling your hips for more friction. Beneath you, Sam reached his peak as well, pulling you down so he stayed buried deep inside. Hot ropes of his seed painted your walls, filling you with a warmth that you’d never felt before.

He kissed your neck as you both shuddered in each other’s arms.

Eventually the sharp burn of pleasure settled into a soothing glow, as if everything was right in the world. You stayed on top of him for a few minutes, savoring his warmth and the fullness inside you. Soft murmurs of his name left your lips as Sam kissed down your neck and mouthed at your tits. “Sam, baby…”

“You’re so amazing,” he said, voice soft. Trailing kisses back up until he reached your lips, he murmured, “I love you so much.”

Those three words made your heart skip a beat. You never thought you’d get to hear those words, much less say them in return. They were always a late night fantasy, a makeshift reality that you could fall asleep to.

You no longer needed to fantasize.

Tears pricked at your eyes. “I love you, too. I have for a very long time.” You kissed your boyfriend deeply, committing his touch to memory. “Let’s go home.”

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[punsandfuturekingsmen]

15. A heartbreaking memory

Send A Number to Experience One of My Muse’s Memories

15. A Heartbreaking Memory

"It was so weird." Arthur continued his comment, surf's up slice half aloft as he did. One hand protected his food from gravity, the other moved to gesticulate his words. "Like. Maybe it was a mistake. But having the barista look me in the eye and call me Joaquin Quiñones when he handed me my tea was just. I dunno. It sure wad something. Because I don't think you could get much further from 'Arthur'. At least the guy a few weeks ago was closer when he just wrote yellow on the cup." He took a bite, and spoke again after he swallowed. "Maybe he was just going for the whole Starbucks doesn't know your name experience."

"JOAQUIIN!" A smile split Vivi's face as she called out. Her hands stayed busy with stacking all her slices from both the cheese and the seafood pizza into one mighty, alternating pizza lasagna. Lewis had his half of the cheese pizza in front of him, in a take-out container. He snorted, biting into the crust of a finished slice. Arthur blinked a few times, train of thought derailing and exploding on impact.

"......I'm sorry, What?"

Lewis made a noise. "You know. The Book of Life movie? We watched it just the other day in theaters. When Joaquin jumps he just-- shouts his name. I think it nearly killed us."

"It was so good! And remember the part with the church? That had some really good animation. And the sword fight scene was so funny. Also lady death ooh mama her design!"

"Of course you'd like the death part." Lewis grinned.

Vivi spat out her tongue. "Oh yeah? Well I bet you liked the romance plot the most."

"I love love, so sue me."

"Oh I will! And then I'll take all your money and laugh!"

"Good luck with that," Lewis poked her nose, leaving a pizza grease shine. "I'll just give all my money to Mama and Papa, just so you get all of my nothing."

"Curses, foiled again!" Vivi flopped over his lap in utter despair.

"Hmmm well maybe I'll be nice and give you a kiss. Would that make up for it?"

Vivi's lashes fluttered at him. "Ooh. Keep talking, Lewlew. What else do you got for me, your perfectly wonderful darling girlfriend who loves you ever so dearly?" Her hand was crawling on the table towards his pizza box. Lewis laughed and pushed it out of reach, only enjoying himself more at her offended gasp.

He could see all of it from the edge of his peripherals. But he stared down at the slice of pizza on his plate, a frown on his face as they continued to banter. He could see Lewis squishing one of Vivi’s cheek, but what they were saying was lost on him.

They had....

It made sense. Made sense Lewis and Vivi would go and do that together. It made sense! It was probably a date.... just the two of them. They were allowed to have that. And they were allowed to see movies without him. They were allowed to have inside jokes together. They were allowed to do things and have fun and exist without him.

Just because he wanted to see it didn't mean they should have to watch it together. They were spending time together. they were important to each other. He was just their friend. He should he happy for them. He was fine. It made sense. Don't ruin their night you always let one little thing bother you stop it stop caring so much stop it you know they care about you stop taking it all to heart they love you just not--

Vivi's voice, paired with gentle arm squeeze, cut through his thoughts. "Artie? You good? Is the pizza too greasy?"

"Or too filled with horrible seafood not fit for human consumption?" Lewis's voice stayed light, but the worry shone in his eyes. He looked about five seconds from putting on his high-waist mom-friend pants.

"Hm." He swallowed. "Yeah I'm... I'm fine. Just... just pretty sure that was a movie night I missed." He tried to keep a level tone. To add a smile.

"Nooo." Vivi shook her head. "Nono, no way. That was the night we all went out to that old warehouse to look for ghosts and found that baby puppy we took to the vet and then the shelter! We got back really late but we weren't tired so we caught the matinee. We snuck some candy into the theater and Lewis smeared his spicy chocolate on me and I'm pretty sure I almost became a ghost. Remember?"

They.... were doing cases without him, too?

"I think Arthur is right, *Estrellita*." Lewis frowned. "It was just you and me and Mystery when we went to the theater, I think."

"Oh. Sorry Arthur." Her gaze was appraising him, her teeth worrying her lower lip. Gaging his reaction.

"N.... no. No I'm fine." The look she gave him said she could tell that wasn't the case. "I-- I just-- I'm only a little disappointed. But not like-- a lot. You know. Just like 'aw man', but not heartbroken or anything. It's okay. I was probably busy. Work has been so-- so crazy, lately."

Half a truth was enough, and she nodded. Lewis spoke up, squeezing his other shoulder. "Next time, we'll remember to invite you. I'm sorry too, Art."

Arthur's fingers knotted under the table. "It's nothing to worry over. Nothing to be sorry for.. like... you know. Like I said. I was probably just.... busy." They didn't notice he wasn't there. They were doing cases without him. They were having these jokes and smile and teasing and he was just..... here, wasn't he? They were having fun. They were a team. He was just... holding on.

Fuck. He was selfish wasn't he? Maybe they were trying to let him down easy and he wasn't taking the hint? Or maybe just... a lot of people seemed to care about romance more than friendship. Maybe he just was.... he was built in a way that couldn't understand that. But they wouldn't do that to him! They're his friends and they wouldn't forget.

But also... they kind already did.

"Hey. Uh." His throat ached. "Sorry about cutting out early. But I just.... Lance actually did mention the shop being busy tonight before I came out, and I don't like him being on his own, you know...?"

"Oh. You.... have to go?" He could see the disappointment on both their faces. But he knew they'd have more fun if he didn't stick around. It wasn't fair to make them feel bad for enjoying hanging out with one another. They were dating! And he was too insecure and selfish and just-- too much of a fucking asshole to be happy for them when he should be.

"Yeah. You know how it is. I would just feel bad if I left him to weather the storm alone." A half chuckle left him.

"And it isn't because of what we said, right...?" Lewis looked concerned too. He didn't read him as much as Vivi did. But where Vivi could tell when he was upset because she could could pick up cues (which meant he had to go if he didn't want her to sleuth it out), Lewis was always on key with emotions. Arthur's fingers tightened their knots.

"No. No. He really is busy. Besides, if I head out, I can get a head start on my project. You know, the limb one with the leg."

They both gave him a searching look before nodding. "Alright. You take care then, Artie." Lewis spoke after a long beat and a shared glance.

"Yeah!" Vivi added. "You tell Lance I said hi! And you both take care."

"Will do." He gave them both a nod and slipped his pizza in one of the boxes. When he finished, he slipped a twenty woth something under it across the table. "For a tip." He said, standing and heading for the door fast.

"Oka-- wait!" Vivi called for him, and Arthur clicked his tongue. Dammit.

Vivi trotted up behind him and he wheeled around to face her. She held a little silver key flat in her palm, a crowned wrench charm hanging from the ring. "You forgot your key, Artie."

"Oh," His voice sounded low. "I left it for you guys. Figured.... figured it'd save you some hassle if you just kept it."

"What?" Vivi blinked. "Are you sure...? How are you gonna get home? You drove here, didn't you?"

Arthur waved a hand, doing his best impersonation of nonchalance. "I can walk. It's nice out. And it isn't that far, either. Lance will give me a ride home, too anyways. Not like I go out all that much when you guys aren't around, anyways. So it's better to let you guys have something on hand."

Then he wouldn't hold them back. They wouldn't need anything from him, if things went the way they felt like they might be going. It was the right thing to do.

".....if you're sure, Artie. Call us if you need us?" He could practically feel her disappointment, radiating from her expression.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Yeah. Take care, you two." He gave them both a wave and turned, straining, forcing himself not to rush towards the door. When he was outside, he wiped at his eyes.

What a stupid thing to cry over.

[sarah-writes-marvel]

Oxygen: Avengers x gn! reader

S.S.: Heya... its been a while. This is another fic kinda based on personal life stuff but I hope you like it still! 

--Little back story, Ive got a congenital heart defect and if I push my self too far this is kind of what happens. :)

Warnings: mentions bruises and cuts, difficulty breathing, other than that its just fluff!

Word count:1,589

Y/F/M: your favorite movie

MASTERLIST ============================

“Alright! Good job team. Another success.” Tony celebrated walking through the helipad entrance of the compound.

“We still took a heavy hit out there tho.” Clint argued massaging his newly wrapped wrist.

“But we’re still alive,” Tony said turning and walking backwards, “I’d say that kinda evens out the bad.”

Clint rolled his eyes at Tony’s slightly faulty logic before the team entered into the common area of the building. Tony immediately took a seat at the bar pouring a drink while everyone else just stood for a minute.

“Well, I don't know about you guys but I'm tired and in dire need of a shower.” you broke the silence, catching their attention.

“I second that,” Nat agreed. “And then maybe some pizza and a movie.”

Various words of approval echoed in the common room.

“Man, I was thinking about throwing a banger of a party!” Tony whined, with a sly smirk, which was returned with cold stares from each of the members. “Jeez, I was kidding.” he mumbled into his glass.

“I’m gonna go shower. I suggest you boys do the same. It's starting to smell.” Nat teased as she made her way to the elevator. Protests and grumbles came from the men standing there.

“She’s not wrong.” you whispered under your breath as you followed her into the elevator.

“I heard that!” Steve yelled out as Clint threw a throw pillow (how ironic) towards the elevator door, hitting the metal before it reached you and Nat.

After a fit of giggling at the attempt, you both leaned against the walls of the elevator, opposite sides of each other, trying your best to filter out the images of the mission running through our heads. 

“Hey, you alright?” her voice attracted your attention as you peaked open your closed eyes.

“Ya, I’m ok. I know that missions don't always end how we want but there's not much we can do.” you sent her a reassuring smile.

“I’m glad you realize that but I was asking more about how you're feeling. Your lips have a very subtle purple hue to them and you're just kinda pale.”

“Oh. I mean I don't feel completely awful. My chest kinda hurts but it's kind of a normal thing for me I guess. Maybe a little out of breath. And a headache.” as you continued to list off my symptoms it seemed more apparent, like the sudden lightheadedness, and the constricting feeling of taking in a breath.

“Do you need to go to the med bay?” She asked on full alert.

“No Nat. I'll be fine. It kinda comes with heart issues. I just need to rest.”

“You’re sure?” she looked at you sceptically, as if you would lie to a perfectly trained assassin who can pick up on any micromovement made.

“Positive.” As soon as you seemed to calm her down from her motherly attentiveness the elevator doors opened to our floor. You quickly gave her a smile and turned to my room while she turned towards hers.

As soon as you were in the safety of your room you striped your tactical gear, doing your best to keep an even breath as it began to feel like the material was constricting your body. With one last solid tug you freed yourself from the clothing leaving you only in underwear.

The reflection in the mirror wasn’t terrible… Maybe that was an understatement. Your lips did in fact have the not so lovely purple tinge to them, your skin looked almost as white as paper besides the bruises and cuts. The burning feeling in your chest and the headache just kind of added to the pain. 

You shook off the slight shock at the reflection, turning on the shower before stripping and stepping under the steaming water, washing away the grim that had apparently become one with your skin.

Despite it being relaxing, the shower did little to help the chest pain that burned through your chest, nor the continuous feeling of not having enough air in your lungs. So as soon as you stepped out of the shower and back into the room you found the little oximeter device and placed it onto your finger waiting for a number to pop up on the small screen.

‘80% oxygen level’ Well that's not good.

“Mx., should I call for a medic to assist you?” Jarvis’ voice echoed through the room causing the number representing your heart rate to spike.

“Uh- no, no it's alright Jarvis. I’m fine, thank you.” you reassured the A.I., pulling the device from your finger.

“Very well.” 

You pulled on an oversized shirt that just happened to have landed into your laundry one day and a pair of thin comfortable pants before moving to your closet.

“Man, I’m gonna regret this.” you opened the door revealing the several oxygen tanks hiding under the clothes that hung in your closet. They were there only for emergencies and no one else knew about them except Bruce, who you had sworn to secrecy which he thoroughly disagreed with.

You chose one of the half sized tanks and the shoulder bag that carried it, slinging it onto your back and adjusting the fit. You carefully wrapped the plastic cannula over your ears before taking the plastic wrench piece and opening the flow of the tank settling at a fairly quick air flow. Almost immediately you began to feel the benefits of the small amount of oxygen entering your lungs, breathing a sigh of relief.

You quickly slipped on your slippers before returning downstiar which you figured everyone had returned too by now. You followed the sound of voices and wrappers crinkling in the kitchen, walking into the group there intimately discussing the best type of popcorn. But as soon as Tony caught sight of you standing in the doorway the conversation halted.

“What's with the getup?” he motioned to you.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t know whose shirt it was, it was just in my clean laundry a few days ago.” you said, avoiding the obvious object in question. You looked up to see Nat giving me a pointed look and a deadpan from Tony.

“I meant the tube, and the backpack.”

“It's my new jetpack. You like it?” you smirked childishly at him as he rolled his eyes.

“Y/N. What's with the pack?” Steve commanded, obviously over the jokes.

“Sorry. I just needed a hit of oxygen. Nothing to get your undies in a twist.” you replied quietly. “What movie are we watching?” you asked, grabbing a slice of pizza from one of the various boxes that sat on the counter.

“Why do you need oxygen? Are you ill? Do you need new lungs?” Thor questioned passing over your previous one.

“Do you need your vitals checked?” Bruce suggested.

“How about we just take you to medical and have them look over you quick.” Clint suggested before stuffing the last of his pizza crust into his face.

“Stop!” you demanded, quieting the group. “I’m just fine. I checked my own vitals. I don't need new lungs and I'm not ill. I don't need medical treatment. What I need is just a relaxing night.” you stated.

“Are you sure? It wouldn't be a bad idea to-” Steve started before you cut him off.

“I'm sure. I’ve lived with this my whole life. I know what I need to do. Obviously if the out of breath feeling and the dizziness are constant then yes I’ll let one of you know that I need medical attention. Until then I just need some oxygen and RnR. Can we do that please?” 

“Fine, for now. But if you still feel crappy after the movie you're going down to medical. No questions.” Tony compromised.

“Alright. I'll try not to faint on you guys until then.” you smiled, which immediately faded when no one laughed. “Im kidding.”

“Well, Miss Comedian, what movie are we watching?” Nat asked as she poured herself a glass of water.

“Y/F/M?” you offered, getting nods and sounds of approval. Steve's eyebrows crinked in confusion.

“What's that?”

“You’ll love it, capsicle. Covers everything from the last thousand years.” Tony smirked, grabbing a box of pizza and leaving the kitchen.

Steve glanced at you before looking at everyone else who just smiled and followed Tony. Eventually he got up and walked over to you.

“Hop on.” he said, crouching in front of you. So of course you followed orders, adjusting the tank on your back before climbing onto his.

“Man if I get service like this I should wear my oxygen tanks outside of my room more often.” you smile as he carries me to the living room.

“Wait? You’ve felt the need to wear oxygen before and you didn’t tell us?” his grip under my legs tightened a little.

“Oh wow, they already got the movie set up!” you said, trying to wiggle from his grasp.

“Y/N.”

“Yes, I have just because I know that this would've been the reaction. Im sorry. Next time I feel like this I’ll let you know.”

“Good.” with that he let you down, sitting next to you on the couch once youve settled down. You carefully maneuvered yourself so that your head laid in Steve's lap while your legs were across Thor while the movie played.

It was nice to be worried about every once in a while despite the overbearing motherly attitudes of most of the male teammates, but what can you do?

========================

S.S: Hope you liked it! Again I realize its kind of a case sensitive fic but I havent seen alot of fics with physically disabled characters. Thanks for reading!!

[lipstickbisous]

the lion and her sun. (4)

LOST LANNISTER PRINCESS

notes: so far, every chapter has ended with aurane rejecting oberyn sooo. and yeah some facts abt this might wrong but hey..

we gon pretend like dahlia’s exist in this universe. 

and the dress she wears during her walk is très similar to the pink one shae wears in ‘the lion and the rose’. this is for lack of a better picture. (except the dress is orange)

i wrote this while watching the prisoner of azkaban. 

none of that matters, but it’s important to me that you know that.

- john mulaney.

ALSO updates might be a little slower now, we’re having HUGE wifi problems at our house but i will definitely keep writing!

pairing: oberyn x oc!reader

summary: on her last day before the married life, aurane’s emotions start to change.

word count: 6.5k

masterlist

the week was coming to an end, much to aurane’s dismay. for the past three days, she had much to think about and do. her walk with oberyn had thoughts racing around in her head when she had gone to sleep that night. even resting naked against the silk sheets, her pillow pressed to her face with her sprawled out behind her head and her eyes gently shut, memories of the gardens and the prince were floating about, refusing aurane’s begs to go so she could ease into unconsciousness.

when her father had spoken of the sudden and upsetting news to aurane, cersei had spoken of how the dornish would be obligated to use the youngers lannister anyway they wanted. 

“they’ll humiliate her, torture her,” aurane’s dear sister spoke. “you’re going to send her off to her death. a lamb for slaughter.”

now, as aurane watched the sun rise with the silk sheets pulled up to cover her bare breasts, she wondered if her sister, cersei lannister, who had never been wrong about anything, had seriously misjudged the martell family. the princess hadn’t been in the city to meet the common people yet and she hoped that they would be exactly like the royals of sunspear. 

she could hear the bustling of early-rising maidens attending to their chores outside of her door. the child inside of aurane couldn’t wait to see what breakfast she would be brought this morning. 

it must’ve been hours since she had risen from her sleep because the sun now sat in its throne in the sky and there was a knock on the door. “i have your breakfast, your grace.” a sweet voice spoke but the unfamiliar accent made it hard to decipher. 

“come in,” aurane spoke, pulling up two of her pillows against the headboard of her bed and leaning her back towards them. it might’ve been the way she had slept but there was ache throughout her spine. the girl who walked in could’ve been no older than aurane. her hair was curly and frizzy and her skin a light brown. her lips were perfectly shaped and her nose curved into a more rounded one. the girl set down the tray of food at the table near aurane’s window, but before she could set out the plate, cutlery, and goblet, aurane spoke. “forgive me, but i don’t think you’ve ever served me before.”

the girl nodded and curtsied. “my name is dyanna,” she said.

“and where are you from,” aurane questioned before sitting back up and pushing herself off of the bed she’d found more comfortable than any other. along with her she took the silk sheets and held them against her chest so they covered her breasts, stomach, and ass. she sat at her table and smiled when seeing that breakfast that morning consisted of fresh bread, butter and jam, berries, and more orange juice. “dyanna.”

aurane’s interest in a someone of lower-class was unusual for any maiden to experience, even in dorne. “i’m from meereen, your grace.” before aurane could pop a grape into her mouth or slice off a thin piece of bread, she grinned.

“meereen?” she questioned, to which dyanna nodded. aurane set the grape down on her plate and sighed, the smile still lingering. “i’ve never met someone from essos.”

dyanna smiled with her hands held together. “no?” aurane shook her head before finishing half of her orange juice. in the past few days, it the only thing other than wine that aurane could drink. new flavors were being brought to her with every meal and the lannister princess couldn’t get enough. 

“no. my father always kept me in the red keep,” she divulged, smearing butter onto a slice of bread and jam on half of it. “tell me, dyanna of meereen,” aurane inquired before biting down on a small piece of bread. the crust was crunchy in her mouth and the jam, the sweetness of strawberries and sugar, contrasted the tecture. “if my knowledge of geography is correct, meereen is just on slaver’s bay.”

it was hesitant, but dyanna nodded silently in response. when aurane kept eating, popping a berry in her mouth between every other bite, she confessed, “i was born a slave and raised into it, your grace,” the princess sat back, leaving her loaf of bread on the plate along with the few berries left. her gaze softened, showing that she was listening, as her eyes focused on the sea. “i was sold to sunspear and sent to work for prince doran but he freed me.”

slavery had never been something that aurane had first-hand witnessed but her beliefs on it remained negative, unlike her sister and father, who couldn’t have cared less about those born lower than them. it was always a flaw that aurane had seen. “so, you’re a free woman,” aurane looked to the coffered ceiling and clutched her goblet of juice in her hand. “but you choose to work as a maiden?”

dyanna only shrugged, her posture remaining ideal. “what could i do?”

aurane laughed before sipping the rest of her drink and setting it down next to her half-full plate. “you could own a stand in the market. or work at one at least,” aurane sat back in her seat, mindlessly letting the sheets slip a bit, revealing the top of her breast. “collect enough money to buy your own place, or...” dyanna looked up in interest and aurane smirked. “purchase your own land.”

the maiden laughed and shook her head. aurane had then finished her breakfast and felt the breeze of the dornish mornings through the strands of her hair. “i’m fine here, your grace.” aurane kindly nodded as dyanna took the tray in her arms and sighed. before leaving the bedroom and closing the door, she piped up, “oh, your grace, forgive me. i forgot to mention it, but prince oberyn has told me to inform you that he would like another walk...before the wedding.”

dyanna then shut the door behind her before aurane could smile in silence. for the short time she’d been awake that morning, the princess hadn’t once thought anything about her marriage. dorne had entranced aurane and fabricated an entire sort of bliss in her mind.

there wasn’t much to do that day anyway. the wedding was already planned and she’d already worn the wedding dress to have it sized perfectly--during which aurane had been poked with needles twice but brush it off when the maiden apologized mercifully.

another stroll around the gardens, even if it was with the prince, didn’t sound so bad.

this time, aurane had worn an outfit less revealing than her last one. she’d spent an afternoon one day diving through her dresser and wardrobes to see what exactly oberyn had given her. most were two-piece outfits that aurane didn’t see herself comfortable with wearing just yet, but others were fine dresses made of soft and translucent linens. in the bottom drawers of her dresser were at least nine different pairs of...pants? aurane had never worn pants before. in casterly rock and king’s landing, women were always required to be clothed in robes down to their feet. the princess supposed that along with a new home came new opportunities.

well, that inner voice in her head spoke at she bit her bottom lip while holding a pair of trousers that were a dark shade of brown. there’s no point in not trying.

aurane stood with the pants in her hands, naked in her room--in all of her glory--and sighed before slipping her feet through the corresponding holes of the clothing. she pulled the pants up to her waist where it had felt comfortable and tied the two loose strings along the sides together the pants tightened around her stomach.

there was nothing much for aurane to say about them except for the fact that she entirely did not enjoy them. she looked to the mirror and noticed how they bagged around her thighs as she pinched the areas that left gaps between her skin and the material of the pants. aurane pulled them off as quickly as possible and pitched them into the woven basket she’d been given on her third day for dirty laundry. 

she began to dive into the wardrobe again before noticing the pale orange dress that had been hung directly in the center of her closet. the silk had nearly been invisible because when aurane slipped it onto her frame, she could see her legs and breasts through the fabric. it was then she remembered the prince’s sudden mention of undergarments and wraps that had been placed inside the dressers as well. the entire process of wearing a simple dress that fit perfectly took far too long for aurane then removed the clothing from her body, wrapped a cloth around her bust and backside, then placing the dress back on her frame. it hadn’t been too entirely hot that day, so the simple sheer fabric of the robe had been perfect against aurane’s skin.

by then, with the sun’s position in the sky, it had already been an hour before lunch and aurane’s stomach began to rumble with a yearning for the dornish food she’d grown so attached to over the past week. the princess placed a hand over her torso and sighed. she supposed it would be best to wait for oberyn to arrive just as he had the other day. 

almost half an hour flew, and aurane was still waiting. as of now, she sat in a chair by her window, quill, ink, and paper in her lap as she drew the outline of the great palm tree in front of her room. she hadn’t once looked down to see what her drawing would turn out to be; it was an art technique she had been taught in king’s landing. aurane had already finished several other drawings of whatever the view from her window brought and they sat by her feet on the floor. finally, after an illusion of hours, there was a knock on her door.

aurane hated to admit that she immediately jumped off of her chair and onto her feet, running to the door to see the prince. but when she opened the door, it was a large man, taller than any other she’d seen, with rich dark skin and a bald head. “captain?” she cocked an eyebrow.

the guard nodded. “prince oberyn waits for you outside of the west wing of the castle,” areo hotah was one of the most intimidating men that aurane had ever seen and she had been trained by ser gregor in her teenages years--of course, it was never something to mention to the martells.

aurane chewed the inside of her cheek nervously and blushed. “right, um,” she said, looking back to her room and shaking her head before letting out a small laugh that didn’t change the guards’ expressions at all. “well, i guess i’m going.” areo let her leave the room before closing her doors behind her. they then walked down the hallways of the dornish castle, aurane in front with several of her guards behind her. the seven then turned a corner and was brought to another door at the end of the hallway. aurane laughed sheepishly and turned to the captain.

“the west wing is that way, your grace,” he pointed behind the group, in the opposite direction of how they had been walking. as much as aurane wanted to roll her eyes--because why hadn’t he mentioned it before?--she smiled politely and turned on her heel to the west wing.

they trailed down staircases, strolled down through hallways that all began to look the same, and took sharp turns and corners. “if you don’t mind my asking,” aurane spoke with her eyes focused on any sign of where she was in the castle. “why is the prince not at the front entrance? or the gardens?”

areo laughed deeply, a sound that came straight from the depths of his chest. “the prince has special plans today, your grace.” over the last few days, aurane had been reassured that she would remain safe in dorne. but with the captain’s sudden statement, a fear washed over aurane again.

the princess truly had no idea what was in the west wing. the east held all of the royal’s bedrooms, the north had the guest rooms, and the south was for the maidens, chefs, and laborers of the castle. but the remaining had always remained a mystery until now.

“elia martell’s room used to be here, your grace,” the captain spoke again. aurane’s straightforward footsteps began to slow in pace as the realization sunk in. “it’s been abandoned since her death.” without stopping in her walk, aurane sighed. it was quiet again, with only the marching steps of the guards, the wooden ends of the spears against the floor, and loud thoughts in aurane’s head for her to hear. “prince oberyn is just this way, your grace.” areo pointed down a staircase to where there was a little wooden door with a lining of light around it. 

sickness began to overtake aurane’s body as she thought about the one specific princess who once habited this part of the castle. how aurane’s family had brutally slaughtered this princess and her children; how they sent her off as a peace treaty. aurane hadn’t noticed it, but she then stood directly in front of the door, staring at the knob. areo, from behind her, cleared his throat for it was a tight staircase and not all six of the guards, including him, could fit inside. she was knocked out of her thoughts and pushed the door open, the sudden sunlight burning her eyes from becoming used to the dim lighting of the castle. she mentally hissed and slapped a hand over her eyes before they met other brown ones.

“good morning, lion,” oberyn smiled. behind him were several more guards holding spears taller than them. the brightness of the sun didn’t seem to affect him at all as aurane gently squinted. “come, we’ll find shade.”

when aurane was by his side, he placed a gentle hand on her back, just as he did nights ago when she had silently rejected him. “and where exactly are we going this time?”

the prince chuckled. “well, you are to be a princess of dorne by tomorrow,” he smiled as they began to walk. it was then, when aurane could finally see in the light, that she noticed they were in a similar space as the docks. behind a large wall, extremely close to the ocean that aurane could almost feel it on her skin. “i figured you would want to meet the city.”

two of his guards stood by an alike door to that of what was located in the castle. it was old and smelled moldy like it hadn’t been used in a long time. aurane laughed. “a secret entrace?” she looked up to the prince with an arched eyebrow. “you really think dorne won’t like me that you had to take me to a secret entrance?”

oberyn shrugged. “i didn’t think you would want the attention.” the two guards swung the door open and aurane could instantly hear the bustling and yelling of the city of sunspear. she looked to oberyn, who stood only two inches taller than her, and sighed before ducking to fit inside the small door frame and entered the city.

it had almost been like magic because the wall had been so thick and strong it kept out all sound of a well-growing economy. as far as aurane could see, there were large structures and houses built all over the land. on the second floors of those buildings must’ve been the homes to thousands of dornish citizens because below them on the first floor were market and small shops and trading centers. it had been so similar to king’s landing yet sunspear reminded aurane nothing of home.

the prince was quiet for a few seconds because not one common person had noticed their presence. “do you like it?” he asked.

aurane smiled but oberyn hadn’t seen it. she slowly nodded as she whispered a, “yeah,” but soon caught herself in such a vulnerable state. “it’s not like i have much of a say whether i like it or not, do i?”

her sarcastic and audacious remarks had no effect on the prince anymore or, really, anyone of dorne. she hadn’t seen ellaria since she’d brought her lunch but even her maidens and servants didn’t seem bothered. it was like their pride could never be tainted. without saying anything in response, oberyn simply cocked his head and they began to walk again.

the soldiers followed a foot behind them but yet maintained a distance for a discussion or even a simple conversation to take place. at least three ladies had recognized the prince and gently curtsied before returning to their daily duties. oberyn must’ve noticed aurane’s confused state because he answered with, “everyone in dorne is treated equal. farmers and marketers are treated just how i am treated.”

even aurane had to admit that the system the people of sunspear followed was fair and nice. “they just...” she shook her head, her eyes trailing over anything to look at by the second. “they don’t look so surprised.”

oberyn shrugged. “i come for walks often,” his hands were holding each together behind his back but every part of him wanted to place just a soft, caring hold on aurane. “the guards are a requirement of my brother.”

why was he so kind? why, even after the slaughtering his family had gone through, the pain he’d felt in his life, was he so kind? even better, how could he be so sweet and patient and loving to those below him? it made a regurgitative feeling arise in aurane’s stomach and she could feel the contents of her breakfast reaching her throat before sighing and swallowing it back down, cringing in disgust. 

“you’re distressed, my sun,” the pet name, which aurane had secretly grown found of but would never admit, made her slightly cower. “what’s wrong?”

the prince’s eyes trailed over the variety of fruits and vegetables being sold by one vender as aurane chose her words carefully. “i fear i’ve been...disrespectful,” it was long overdue but oberyn was patient. “from the moment we arrived in dorne, you’ve been nothing but- but hospitable and welcoming. and i’ve been...vile. and rude,” he only nodded for her to continue, sensing she had a whole loads of words to speak. “perhaps it was my sister who drove this fear into me that i wouldn’t be accepted here.”

a kind smile between a vendor and oberyn was exchanged from his viewing of the products, but he listened intently to every word. “growing up, you were taught we were animals.”

aurane nodded and laughed incredulously. “savages,” she corrected him. such biased opinions had been written in the books she’d read as a child when learning about westeros. “and during the past week, i’ve found you’re nothing like the sort.”

the prince chuckled and smiled so that butterflies flew down aurane’s throat and into her stomach, where they would remain. “oh, really?”

her eyes watched as he turned to look at every sort of item being sold that day. suddenly, his kindness was a likable attribute to aurane and she blushed with a sly smirk. “if i’m telling the truth here,” he nodded. “you might even be better than those in king’s landing.”

“well, it’s not hard to be better than a lannister.” his remark wasn’t hateful or vengeful as oberyn smirked back and for a second, aurane had forgotten that there were guards behind her or merchants and traders and farmers all around. it felt like it was just the two of them enjoying them a quiet afternoon and a simple conversation. she quite liked it. “perhaps we should find lunch somewhere.”

aurane furrowed her eyebrows with a crooked smile before hesitantly laughing. “you mean,” she found no falter in the prince’s expression. “dining in a- a what, a restaurant?”

this seemed to take oberyn by surprise because, and it was the only time aurane could find him doing this that day, he laughed unsurely. the red viper was never unsure and even he himself couldn’t say what was happening. “well, yes,” his eyes began to scan over the many shops and restaurants in search of a meal. “that is what restaurants tend to do.”

such comment was not meant to be sarcastic or snarky or rude. it was a mindless thought that oberyn had just happened speak out. “i’ve never been in a restaurant,” aurane whispered and looked to the ground. would the owners of whatever eating house oberyn picked be peaceful with a lannister princess dining in their business. 

oberyn had heard her mumble but said nothing of it. there was a pit at the bottom of his stomach, it’d been there since his sister was murdered, and he hadn’t felt such sympathy in that pit from elia’s death until now, when aurane muscles grew tense because people were starting to look.

there were whispers. the worst kind of whispers; the kind where it seemed as if every person had something to say but it was impossible to make out. eyes were glued to the couple yet hands remained at their jobs. oberyn had never seen his city spark in such controversy. had aurane been right? would they treat her differently? he looked to the girl beside him and found that she was hearing the whispers too yet there was no stall in her walk. if someone had quickly glanced at her, she would glare back at them. her chin was raised high and oberyn, such as he had done with ellaria, felt compassion and admiration.

he gulped silently at the sudden change of heart in his city. as they began to walk further and further, growing deeper in sunspear, the whispers began to fade in and out. the rumored lannister princess was finally showing her face. “here, my sun,” he pointed to a small tavern with trays of produce and potted flowers in front of the windows. “i’ve been told you can handle the dornish spices.”

aurane blushed and nodded as the sudden mention of such topic caused her mind to flash to ellaria. she wanted to see the older lady again desperately and she wasn’t sure why. the entrace of the restaurant was not grand or heavenly or designed with a golden intricate design. it was a simple tavern with at least sixty plants hung and placed on the perimeter. it had been one large room and, for the time of day, strangely empty. aurane suspected that the prince had reserved it in secret but she wouldn’t comment on it. 

before either of them stepped foot into the tavern, oberyn placed a gentle hand on her forearm and pointed to one of the potted plants that held six white flowers with layers of small triangular petals. a few of the flowers had a pink hue to them but the white ones took aurane by interest.

“a dahlia,” the prince smiled, gently dragging his fingers over the petals. his eyes seemed entranced over the small plant. “you don’t see them very much.”

aurane smiled and turned to oberyn. “they grow rarely in king’s landing,” her words were sweet but there was something in oberyn’s gaze that seemed so reminiscent. he was longing for something. “what is it?”

he chewed the inside of his cheek and aurane turned to the guards standing protectively behind them. even they seemed aware of whatever oberyn had been feeling. “elia’s favorite flower,” his lips curled with a raspy voice before picking the flower from it’s stem and holding it between his two fingers. oberyn then looked to aurane, who was more understanding now, and wove the flower through her hair until it sat behind her ear. aurane could only smile.

―

the day was ending and the sun was starting to set. a large lunch had filled aurane’s stomach so there was no room for dinner. oberyn must’ve been the same because on their walk back to the castle, he, too, walked with heavy feet. the guard’s behind them didn’t stumble in their steps as the sunlight was fading. 

“i hoped you enjoy our walk today,” oberyn spoke, his hands behind his back as they strolled along the secret pathway. while exiting the city through the small door just as they had done earlier that day, aurane had been careful to crouch down so that her flower would stay woven in her hair. 

she nodded and listened to the waves because there wasn’t much else to here. the bustling of the city was muffled by the wall but aurane didn’t mind a little of bit of silence as the day ended. “i think i did,” the dahlia, which had at first felt strange when touching her temple was now softly brushing against her skin. “and i did enjoy lunch.” she turned to the prince.

“i don’t suppose you still want dinner?” he asked politely, looking down only two inches to her height. most of the woman oberyn had been with, apart from ellaria, could only reach his shoulder but the top of aurane’s head touched just below his nose. 

it was peaceful for him to watch her laugh so effortlessly and genuinely as the shore threatened to crash above the pathaway. they’d been inches away from the water but yet no sign of fear arose. “no, i think i’ve had my fill for the day.”

a nod in response before oberyn sighed, “join me in my chambers.” just as his voice normally did toward the end of the day, he sounded raspy and tired yet every part of him was awake while he looked at aurane.

was it an offer for a night of pleasure? the rumors of oberyn and his countless lovers had been spread all throughout westeros and he didn’t seem ashamed by them. aurane had no problem with bedding someone before she was married, she’d done it before, but she hadn’t thought that the prince would draw her close just for a fuck. the prince laughed and shook his head, noticing aurane’s train of thought. “i can promise you, lion, it’s not like that,” he chuckled out. aurane’s cheeks burned in embarrassment. “when was the last time you had a bath?”

they were now in the abandoned west wing that remained darker than the rest of the castle, but aurane didn’t find it unpleasant or frightening. oberyn could barely find the courage to walk around these quarters of the castle himself but aurane, who had lived with the family responsible of the death of the former inhabitant of sunspear, strolled so unbothered down those halls. it wasn’t because she had no care for elia martell’s death, if anything it was the opposite, but no--this was because aurane could swallow the lannister pride and respect the fact that her father slaughtered oberyn’s sister.

once they had arrived in the east wing, oberyn turned to his soldiers and cocked his head for them to leave him and aurane. because they had been under prince doran’s command, they each shared a glance of hesitation but one simple stern eye and a whispered “have my maidens fetch warm water for my room” and they continued to walk down the hallway, leaving the oncoming couple alone. “you wouldn’t oppose a bath, would you?”

aurane’s first experience of a bath in dorne had been lovely, mainly due to the spices and scents of the salts and soaps she combed through her hair. she sighed heavily, her chest rising with her breath before smiling, “no, i don’t think i would.” the rest of their walk was in sweet silence. the castle seemed to be asleep--the gardens were empty and the hallways barren of the normal maidens hurrying down to each room. aurane noticed that they walked past her room and she wondered just how close her and oberyn had been to each other this entire time. the floors, still a pristine polished marble, seemed to glimmer as the last of the sun could be seen in the sky. finally, they had arrived at oberyn’s door, which were exactly the same as aurane’s.

she chuckled and looked back down the hallway to where her doors stood and then back at the prince. “all this time and you’ve been down the hallway?” oberyn shrugged and opened the door for the princess. she bit on her tongue when she was instantly greeted with the overpowering aroma of citrus sugar. 

“don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts now?” the prince smirked and aurane showed no hesitation as she sauntered confidently into the room, soon slowing her steps. 

his room had been much bigger than hers, yet held the same amount of furniture and looked still so full. the bed was placed next to the equivalent wall that aurane’s bed was in her room. the windows were so close to the bed that it seemed to her morning’s must’ve been perfect because the sun could just simply leak in through the windows and darken the skin of whoever lied upon the bed. next to the opening of the room was a desk that held what looked like to be hundreds of crumpled papers and a quill and its ink. on the opposite side of his room was a large wooden tub that could hold multiple bodies and the simple thought of who had been in there before almost sickened aurane. the tub had been filled to the brim with warm water and on a small table beside it were various soaps and salts. 

it was sudden but the door had been closed and oberyn’s hands landed on aurane bare shoulders. she shuddered gently and he immediately removed his touch. “lion,” he spoke steadily and turned aurane to him.

they both turned so their backs faced each other and she could hear him unbuttoning his top. her fingers did their best to trail over the clip in the rear of her dress but fumbled over the soft fabric. she sighed and turned to the prince but found he’d already reversed back to her. his chest was completely bare as he was only dressed in his pants. he must’ve silently slipped his boots off because his feet were also bare against the marble. he cocked his head and pushed on her shoulder so she turned once again. his index and thumb found the clip so simply and undid it so the fabric feel loose against her body, but her hands flew to her chest to catch it from falling completely off. there a crumpling noise of leather dropping into a heap on the floor. water splashed apart and together until it was silent again. while keeping her back facing oberyn, aurane turned her head and met his eyes.

he sat against the side of the tub with his arms held up along the edge of the wood. “are you scared, lion?” he asked so sweetly yet remained so stern. 

the only thing that stood in the way of aurane standing as naked as the day she was born in front of the prince was her hands clutching onto the dress. “close your eyes.” she whispered. oberyn only sighed and rose a hand over his eyes, gently squeezing them shut for reassurance. the dress cascaded down to the floor with an inaudible sound. she stepped one foot in the water and the warmth instantly felt calming. once aurane stood completely in the tub, she began to sink to the bottom, where she sat with the surface of her bath reaching just above her breasts. 

“can i open?” the prince asked. 

aurane brought her knees to her chest and spoke aloud a, “yes.” her arms wrapped around her legs as oberyn rested his hand again and smiled. somehow, despite her cowering position, aurane felt more confident than ever with all of her body exposed. 

that sly smile spread over oberyn’s face again as twirled his finger for aurane to turn around. she did so and sat closer to him in between his legs. her breath almost hitched when she felt his length against her back but he didn’t act upon it. instead, he lathered his hands with a lemon-scented shampoo and combed it throughout the strands of aurane’s hair. it was a soothing feeling as his fingertips gently massaged her scalp and aurane could’ve fallen asleep right there. once her hair was completely covered in the suds, oberyn then cupped his hands into the water and poured it over her head, watching as the soap washed out fairly easily.

she chuckled. “how many girls have you given baths too?” she noted his expertise. it wasn’t every man who knew who to treat a woman’s hair--not in westeros. 

once her hair was completely cleaned and dripping and pushed it to the side of her neck so her back was bare. he placed a soft kiss against the top of her spine, “do you want to know?” and began to caress her arms with the bar of soap. aurane gently shook her head and smiled. for a month, she’d be tense and anxious for what her fate awaited for her. for the past week, while remaining in her room she’d grown closer and closer to that fate and could not see perfectly clear what it was. and if it really was this, she didn’t mind. a finger was suddenly brushed over a raw piece of skin on her arm and she shivered under the touch.

oberyn’s eyebrows furrowed in concern before sitting up and looking over the top of aurane’s arm. “lion,” he cooed, gazing at the ruined skin--a scar. “how did you acquire such a wound?”

the question was one that aurane didn’t have to answer often because it was only her family who had seen it and she’d never left the castle for anyone else to glimpse her scar. 

“fire,” she spoke as he continued to gently rub over the healed wound with one hand, and the other poured water over the soap on her body. the sun had now completely set and the stars were glimmering over the surface of the water. the moonlight had such an effect on aurane’s frame--there was a silver lining against her curves and edges and oberyn wanted nothing more than to cherish it. “casterly rock didn’t like how the last lannister child was a bastard, furthermore with a rumored dornishwoman. i had never seen the city until i was four namedays,” the prince remained quiet as another kiss was placed on her shoulder. “my father had been hesitant about letting me into the festivals. but my brother had begged. he said ‘she’ll never learn to be a good ruler if she can’t know her people’, so papa had my sister escort me along with four other guards.”

a kiss on her knuckles as he held her hand. “and?”

“i’d gotten lost along the way. i didn’t think it was possible for a city to hate a child so much but i’d been proven wrong.” underneath the water, aurane moved her hands in such delicate motions. “i was in alley or- something like that, i can’t remember. but there were two men there and a woman. they were sneering and laughing at the little lost lannister princess,” a kiss on her wrist. “one was holding a candle since the sun was setting for the festivities to begin, and as i was trying to walk away, they pressed the fire against my arm,” the memories were still there in aurane’s mind but they didn’t spark anger or vengeance in her. she had accepted it. “my sister then found me and my father had them hanged.”

oberyn chuckled and planted a firm kiss on her neck. the loving and affectionate actions hadn’t taken aurane by surprise. she knew of the prince’s ways and respects. “lannisters are dangerous people.”

he talked of her family as if she wasn’t a part of it. maybe she wasn’t--maybe aurane wasn’t a lannister like her father or siblings because her mother had been a dornishwoman and aurane had been born a bastard. “yes, they are.”

―

suddenly, all the peace and comfort aurane had felt during her first week in sunspear dissolved into dust and blown away in the cool evening breeze she loved to feel after the hot days of dorne. the last time she’d been pampered was her last day in king’s landing. her maidens had braided her hair and her sister had applied the sheer cover of make-up to her skin that wasn’t needed very much. during her week, aurane had dressed herself and brushed her own hair and washed her own body, but now, she sat in a chair in front of her mirror with several maidens surrounding her. one was twirling and brushing and braiding her hair, another was powdering her face, and the last was tying the loose strings in the back of aurane’s dress. 

why was she so nervous? the night before had been so simple--oberyn showed love and they’d bathed and because he was so understanding, she returned to her chambers where she slept for only two hours.

a maiden giggled. “it’s a wonder, your grace,” she admired. “i sleep only four hours through the night and i always wake up with darkness under my eyes.”

aurane smiled in response and nodded quietly. her dress was the usual white, but behind it was a golden tint in honor of the lannister house, although she knew that dorne wanted nothing to do with their enemies. she looked at her reflection and her mirror and liked what she saw, but despite her beauty and fairness, her fingers absentmindedly began to fiddle with each other.

she sighed fairly and the maidens looked to each other on what to say. the oldest one, who looked about aurane’s sister’s age, stumbled on her words before noting, “i hope you know you look heavenly, your grace,” she leaned down and tucked a strand of hair behind aurane’s ear. 

the princess smiled in response before the second maiden spoke, “very heavenly, indeed,” aurane looked back to her reflection and attempted to smile with pride but it came out slightly unhinged. “the prince is a good man. you’re marrying a very good man.”

a knock echoed through aurane’s room as she inhaled deeply, sticking out her chest. the first maiden went to the door and the two other followed suite. aurane did not turn to see who was at the door because she knew, by tradition, it could not be oberyn. 

“my lady,” a maiden curtsied before ellaria sand could brush her off.

the older woman bowed her head back and looked to aurane. the sound of her voice, so peaceful and loving and...maternal, piqued interest in the princess and she smiled at the sight of oberyn’s lover. ellaria wore a bright yellow linen dress with golden plating on her shoulders that were attached to more honey-colored pieces of fabric that cascaded down her arms and to the floor. she looked heavenly. “are you ready, lion?”

aurane’s gaze softened and her lips parted.

tags: @ohpedromypedro @zeldasayer @pascalpapi @absurdthirst @cyarikaaa @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @pedropascalonline @pedropascalito @pedropascalitofics @honeychicanawrites @otherthingsinhead @wakalas @pedropascalispapi @heavenbarnes @qveenbvtch @foreverlostindreams @forever-rogue @arianawills @liadamerondjarin @pascalisthepunkest

[pb-nj]

(So I made a thiiiiing and this thought wouldn't leave me and this.. just happened. I've convinced myself to write a fic after 7 years? There will be a few British slang in there jsyk but its 4am and my mind can't decipher between American and British slang anymore.)

Tsundere

3 Times Nico acts out tsundere (and Levi knowing how to perfectly deal with it) and the 1 time he blurts out the truth

Tsundere: A fictional character who fits the archetype of having cold and even hostile personality towards another person before gradually showing a warm and caring side over time.

I Love You

Levi never shied away from speaking his affection and it was one of those mornings he stayed overnight at Nico's knowing they have the morning off the next day. Watching the fellow across the kitchen island wearing nothing but track pants, hair floopy and hanging over his eyes while preparing their breakfast, he can't help but blurt it out, "I love you."

Instantaneously, without even looking up, Nico's sideway smirk appears on his lips, "I know you do."

"You.. Are such an ass." Levi rolls his eyes but there was mirth in his tone as he shakes his head at Nico.

He doesn't need to hear it. He used to yearn for Nico to say it back but now..

Now he knows it's in the way Nico cuts up Levi's toast into perfect triangles, without crust, butter and then peanut butter and just a smidgen of jam on top, just the way Levi likes it.

It's in the way he grabs Levi's waist and pulls him in for a quick peck as the other was on his way to grab some milk from the fridge. Nico doesn't let go of him and Levi complains the coffee will go cold. Nico would just smile and let him go but his eyes would follow Levi's every movement.

It's in the way Nico knows just how Levi likes his coffee and would watch Levi's reaction to gauge if he's done it perfectly (and he knows when it isn't because Levi is the worst liar and Nico won't hesitate to grab the mug, pour it down the sink and make him another one until it is spot on).

It's in the way that Nico convinces Levi to just stay the rest of the morning and he can borrow his clothes so that Levi doesn't have to go home and get ready for their afternoon shift. Levi protests because the clothes would be too big but Nico would keep pulling him back, suggest to showering together even and Levi relents.

It's in the way Nico would hold Levi's hand over the console as they're driving to work and when they're at a stoplight, he'd lift the hand his holding, kiss the back of it as he looks softly over at Levi, I love you too

 Hold Me Close

Levi found him eventually, in one of their favourite on call rooms. Why he didn't think of coming here first he didn't know. He should've known better that this would be where Nico is most comfortable sulking on his own. It's the smallest on call room but the single bed can fit two people. Nico likes small spaces when he's emotional, likes knowing where all the corners of the room are and feels grounded when the walls of the room are within touching distance. 

He was currently sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped together, staring at the blank wall. He's lost yet another patient, this one he actually got close to and got to know well. He was only 18 and was inspired to be a surgeon. Nico called him his little prodigy. Nothing went wrong this time, the boy's body just gave out and Levi was scrubbed in to this surgery with Nico and even he had a hard time calling the time of death when Nico couldn't utter a word, just stood there rooted on the spot looking down at the boy as if it was all just going to be a joke and his heart would pick up again. 

"Do you want some company? Maybe, I can hold you?"

Nico shakes his head, letting out an exasperated sigh as he finally looks up at Levi, "No Levi, I don't want to be held. Do you want to be held?"

His tone and eyes were annoyed but Levi knows him now, he just has to look at the shivering hands and he knows.

"Yes, I'd like to be held. I know he was your patient but I've grown fond of him too."

Nico's eyes changed from angered to numb before he drops his eyes and nods, patting the space next to him. Gingerly, Levi makes his way over, wraps his arms around Nico's waist and hugs him from the side. Nico wraps an arm around his shoulder, patting soothingly. 

Later on, they'd end up lying on the bed and it's Nico who has his arms wrapped around Levi's waist, face hidden on Levi's neck as he makes ragged breaths, trying to keep himself from crying. Levi pretends he doesn't know and stops himself making soothing caresses to keep up with the pretense. Nico knows how obvious he's being but he is grateful Levi is letting him keep whatever strong facade he has left. Thank you, I needed you the most.

 Stress Relief

"Just stress relief."

Levi is replaying this phrase in his head as he looks up at the fancy hotel ceiling, catching his breath. He should've known better than to agree to this but his very being is craving and yearning for Nico still. And the sex is amazing, always was.

He thought he's already gotten used to Nico's cold persona but sometimes it gets too much and he just wants to hear exactly what Nico is feeling and not play the little hidden affection game they've somehow fallen into. That led to their breakup and it was agonising. 

Nico was.. is, his first love and he can't let go that easily. Nico didn't seem to have a hard time carrying on with life after the breakup. Levi is still a mess and he isn't afraid of showing it. Although when the pandemic hit, he'd watch Nico worriedly, knowing well that the fellow is keeping it all in and pretending to be numb to everything.

He looks at the fancy clock in the room and gosh why is everything so fancy and why did Nico choose this hotel just for a few hours of romp in the sack? Truth be told, Nico invited Levi over to his apartment but it was too familiar, too soon, too.... intimate for what they only are now.

The Levi who thought he knew Nico throughout would have thought that this is Nico's way of showing he missed him, by taking him back to the place where they've shared memories. The Levi now, who wants to protect whatever sanity he has left, pushed for a hotel room and not thinking of any glimmering hope. 

Levi realises he's been looking at the clock without actually checking the time. 10pm, he can still catch the commute home. 

Just as he sat up, Nico attempted to throw an arm around his waist and it ended up connecting quite strongly against his bare chest. "Ow!"

"Shit sorry! I-.. where.. are.. are you leaving?" Nico raises one brow, sitting up and looking so adorably confused that Levi could hardly stop himself from leaning over to kiss that expression away. He doesn't. 

"Yeah it's late and I need to go home before the last commute."

"But.. Wh-.. Okay." 

Levi searches his face but Nico just turns away, scratching the back of his neck as he lies down, back facing Levi. He sighs as he moves to get up, cleans himself and put his clothes back on. 

The silence was awkward and Levi couldn't wait to get out of there. Just as he makes his way to the door, Nico bolts out of bed, naked and all, grabbing Levi's elbow. 

"You know, there's a perfectly good bath tub we-.. You didn't get to use at all and baths are good stress relief." He gives him a coy smile and Levi could only blink a few times, eyes betraying how perplexed he's feeling. 

"It's such a waste, I mean I could run you a bath and maybe I can join you too? I mean if we're relieving stress, might as well just go all out right?"

Levi stands there, silent for god knows how long. He's tempted to rebutt and say he isn't stress out anymore but he notices Nico's fidgeting fingers on his free hand. Levi knows this gesture, knows what Nico is not saying and he isn't sure if he wants to fall back into this routine again. 

But as he watches Nico close and open his free hand, notice his pleading eyes which he normally never allows to show, Levi lets go of the door knob and nods. 

He moves to put his bag back down and he doesn't see the way Nico smiles behind him before preparing the bath. 

Minutes later, they're silent in the tub, Levi's back against Nico's chest as they relax in the warmth of the water. The silence isn't awkward this time and Nico languidly places kisses on Levi's shoulder. 

And then a few more hours later, Nico watches the sleeping Levi across from him, lying on his side facing Nico. He watches his lashes flutter and makes the decision to pull him across and tuck him against his chest, head underneath his chin and wrapping his arms securely around Levi. It's then he finally feels comfortable and slowly falls asleep, will you come back to me?

 "I can't lose you"

Levi was walking ahead of Nico, looking for something in his bag. It's been weeks of this colleagues with benefits things they have. They can't exactly be friends with benefits because they hardly ever talk when they're not having sex and sometimes they tend to get into a spat when Nico blatantly ignores some of Levi's diagnosis. Levi sometimes thinks it's probably because Nico loves riling him up and he's always known Nico finds him cute when he's all vexed and pouty, not that Nico can see that from the behind his mask. 

They're on their way to Nico's because Levi finally felt guilty for making Nico spend money on hotels whenever they have sex and Nico doesn't let him pay. But if Levi wants to be true to himself, it's because maybe, just maybe something in their dynamic may change if they go back to where they used to do things together. His heart is on the line, he knows this. He's gotten his hopes up again, he knows this. But Nico always asks him to stay afterwards and he remembers falling asleep by himself but always wakes up with him in Nico's arms and.. It has to mean something right?

"I can't lose you." Levi stops, is confused for minute before he realises the voice came from behind him. He looks back and sees a very shocked Nico who seems to also not believe that came out from his own mouth. 

"What? What do you mean?" He walks back to Nico, looking up at him. This is the closest he's been to the fellow without sex as a prerequisite.

"I..." Nico swallows thickly, avoiding Levi's gaze as he takes a shaky breath. "I've just been thinking what if it was you on that bed and not Meredith Grey. And god knows I'm glad it's not you and I know this is shitty of me because everyone needs Meredith Grey but what if you were one of those people who I can't wake up, whose life is dependent on a machine and.."

He trails off, closing his eyes before finally looking back at Levi. He reaches for Levi's hands and holds them delicately as if he would crumble at the slightest touch.

"I don't deserve you and I'm not someone who will say how I feel all the time. I show my affections differently and it's not how you want to be loved but... The thought of losing you forever, I don't think I can ever live with that." 

Half of Nico's face is obscured by his mask but his eyes show so much, so much that Levi has never seen him show before and thinks he doesn't even need to hear all those to know what Nico wants to say. 

"I love you Levi and it's stupid that it took a world pandemic to make me realise how much I do and how much I don't want to lose you. And I want to make every single second we have together count. I won't be a perfect lover but I hope you know, whatever I don't say, you will still feel how much I care about you." Nico pulls him closer, anxiously waiting for an answer and yes they're breaking the distance rule but they're both too engrossed to worry (and to Levi's excuse and relief they've both tested negative)

Levi breaks the eye contact and laughs, shaking his head, before looking back up at Nico. "With how much you've said tonight, I don't think you need to say anymore for the rest of our lives."

Nico's eyes widened before they crinkle, finally letting out a relieved chuckle. "The rest of our lives?"

"If you'll have me?" Levi shrugs shyly.

"I won't have anyone else, I'm in love with you Levi."

Levi smiles, genuinely smiles for the first time in weeks and he wants to kiss Nico badly but he'd rather save it in the comforts of their privacy. He moves to turn around and go but Nico holds him back, "You're not gonna say it back?"

Levi gives him an amused pointed look and they both know where this is headed, "I will in 2 minutes. I'd just like to see you sweat it out."

Nico laughs and just like Levi did back then, this time he's the one who hugs Levi from behind, holding him close and from now on he's never letting go.

Be mine, forever

[nsheetee]

Bad Dreams

Pairing: Hendery x Reader Genre: Best Friends to Lovers AU || slight angst, lots of fluff Length: 2.1k Warnings: reader has mild PTSD, mentions of reader in a car accident  Summary: In which Hendery is your dreamcatcher, and washes away the bad dreams you’ve been having.

☁︎ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ☁︎

Soulmates are people who are ideally suited for one another; what a concept: to have someone in this world that is made specifically for you. To have someone that perfectly fits with the rough edges of your personality with their own. To have someone that not only understands you, but also knows how to console you and how you want to be cared and loved. And vice versa: the ability to know someone like the back of your own hand, to know someone better than you know yourself.

You always thought Hendery was your soulmate.

From the moment you met him, timidly glancing at him from behind your mother’s legs as your families met for the first time. You didn’t have the chance to make any friends yet, school had not started for you and your neighbors were all older people. So, Hendery was really your first friend.

At first, you bonded over how the pizza crust was the best part of the pizza and how you both liked to play on the swings at the playground. As you grew into your awkward teenage years, you bonded over your same interests in music and how high school popularity really isn’t that important or all it’s cracked up to be. And now, as young adults, you can both whine and joke about the bills you have to pay and the college classes you have to attend in the comfort of your shared apartment.

You know Hendery is your soulmate.

There is no one in your life that has known you as deeply as Hendery does. There is no one who can tell what you’re thinking just by a glance into your eyes, or know what you want to eat even when you don’t. There is no one else that stood by you through the time you decided to dye your hair bright blue, or when your first pet passed away, or when you got accepted to your dream college.

For you, it’s always been Hendery.

Some nights, in the dark confines of your 1AM thoughts, you promise yourself that as long as Hendery never leaves-- never changes, you’ll be okay with not finding a lover. You��ll be okay with being alone because you won’t truly be alone. Either way, you don’t think it’s possible for anyone to know you the way Hendery does. Maybe there is some sort of part in Hendery that is tied to you, some sort of red string that connects him to you.

Maybe that’s how he knew that something happened to you on that rainy night, even before he got the phone call from the hospital.

When Hendery arrived at the hospital, he felt oddly calm. When he saw you, it was like standing in the eye of a hurricane, chaos around him and peacefulness in him. You had some scratches on your face, but other than that you looked fine. You were alive.

You caught Hendery’s gaze and smiled weakly; he didn’t think his feet could carry him to you any faster. Hendery has hugged you many times before, from quick side hugs to full on “never let me go” hugs. But the way he hugged you was different this time. He slowly engulfed you, pushing you into his chest and resting his chin on your head. Hendery was scared; scared that he let you leave home that morning without breakfast, scared that he assumed you would come home okay. He should’ve known fate isn’t blind to who she hurts.

“I’m sorry.” You feel the need to apologize. Hendery doesn’t react, he just keeps holding you close. “I don’t know how it happened. The other car just... hit mine. I-I wasn't speeding. I couldn’t even see it coming-” The more you talk, the more you feel like crying again. It feels like your brain is torturing you into reliving the events of what happened just an hour ago. You gripped tighter onto Hendery, who seemed to know before you that you were going to cry again.

You, once again, are convinced Hendery is your soulmate.

When you’re released from the hospital and allowed to go home, you don’t think you’ve ever been grateful to see your own bed. Even after all those long nights studying in the library, after working for several hours a day; you have truly never appreciated your own room and your warm bed until you’ve felt the roughness of a hospital gurney. But when the hours ticked closer to night time, you grew restless. Tossing and turning, forcing your eyes shut and hoping sleep will come. Nothing helped, the mental pictures that will forever be stored in your memory of that car crashing into yours, the feeling of impact and spinning out of control sending you to sit up in bed, panting and shaking.

The last time you had a nightmare this bad, you were younger. You climbed into your parents’ bed and your dad petted your hair while your mother hummed a lullaby for you.

“There are no such things as nightmares, only bad dreams.” You’re mother sang. You thought it was a funny way of putting it, but whenever you had a nightmare from then on, you convinced yourself it’s only a bad dream.

But this was more than a bad dream; this bad dream was reality less than 24 hours ago. You gathered your pillow and blanket, quietly padding into Hendery’s room. He’s sprawled out like a starfish on his bed, the blanket messily draped over him and his chest slowly rising and falling. You almost feel bad for disturbing him, but you sneak over to his bedside and shake him awake by his bicep anyway.

“Hendery.” You whisper, but it’s enough to make him sit up sharply.

“What is it? What’s wrong.” He grabs your wrist, sleepy eyes looking you up and down.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I had a bad dream. C-Can I sleep here?” Hendery sighs at your response, you can’t tell if he’s relieved or annoyed but he nods his head. You’re about to drop your pillow and blanket on the floor next to the bed, but his grip on your wrist tightens as he pulls you down onto the mattress with him.

“I can sleep on the floor.” You mutter but Hendery groans.

“No, you can’t. The doctor said you almost got whiplash, I know your neck’s probably sore. Just sleep here.” So, you and Hendery shuffle around until he’s laying on his back on one side of the bed with his blanket and you’re laying on the other side on your stomach with your own blanket. Hendery is quick to fall back into his dreams, mouth opening slightly and warmth radiating from his skin and onto yours.

The moonlight from Hendery’s open window casts a spell on you and you fall asleep next to him. His hairy legs rubbing against yours every once in a while and light snores lull you into a surprisingly peaceful night of sleep.

☁︎☁︎☁︎

The next night it happens again. You’ve been trying to go to sleep for over three hours, but your own brain is stopping you from enjoying what few hours of sleep that you’ll be able to get until the sun rises. You don’t feel bad coming into Hendery’s room this time because he’s still up, playing games on his computer at the desk in the corner of his room. He has a headset on and since he’s facing away from the door, you walk up to him.

“Hendery,” He looks at you for a moment to let you know he’s listening, and then turns back to the game. “Is it okay if I sleep here again?”

“Yeah,” He mumbles, still looking at the computer, “But I’m playing with Yangyang and Xiaojun right now, it might not be quiet.” He explains. You shrug despite him not being able to see you and you fall into his bedsheets again, this time using one of his pillows and his blanket as your own.

It’s an hour later when Hendery logs off, shutting the computer down and turning to look at you. You’re completely passed out on your stomach, face half pushed into the pillow and your back rising and falling peacefully.

“Doesn’t it hurt to sleep like that?” Hendery thinks as he changes into pajamas. He stops right before he gets into the bed. Should he go sleep somewhere else? You weren’t taking up the whole bed, but it did feel different to be the one getting into bed with you. Even though you did this just the other night, it feels more intimate to be sharing a blanket now. Hendery keeps his distance from you on the large bed, but he can’t help but notice how much he likes how you look in on his pillow. The thought startles him, but he falls asleep to your hair tickling him and the quiet noises you make.

☁︎☁︎☁︎

The bad dreams keep coming, but you force yourself to not go to Hendery for relief. It’s time to grow up; you can’t crawl into Hendery’s room at all hours of the night when you can’t fall asleep. It’s been hard, maybe those past two nights spent beside Hendery made you a bit dependent on his warmth for comfort, but you force yourself to stay in your room when you wake up from your dreams night after night.

Which is why it surprised you when your bedroom door opened tonight, a sleepy Hendery trailing in and quietly slipping in between your sheets next to you.

“Did I say you can come in?” You tease him for his lack of greeting or asking of permission. He surprises you by rolling over to face you, his nose just centimeters away from yours and his skin so close that it almost burns to not have him touching you. Your breath is caught in your throat as his hazel eyes look into yours, sleepy but determined.

“I can hear you crying when you wake up from your nightmares.” Hendery whispers, “Why didn’t you come into my room.” The teasing smile on your face dims and instead you bite your lip.

“I didn’t want to bother you.”

Hendery decides to do something crazy, something that skews the perfect line you both have drawn between you two that defines your relationship as best friends. His arm wraps around your waist, warm fingertips dipping under your pajama shirt and gently pushing into your back to pull you closer. You give in, gently rolling into his embrace and resting your head on his collarbone as you hide into him. His other hand finds your hair, massaging your scalp as he sighs, his chest meeting yours as it expands and compresses with every breath.

“You never bother me.” He whispers into your forehead, continuing with his touches to the new parts of you he’s never had the pleasure of feeling before. “Please, I want you to trust me. I want you to… confide in me.” He begs and you slightly pull away to look up at him.

“I do trust you, Hendery. You’re my dreamcatcher.” You smile slightly to comfort him.

Hendery wants to kiss you. He’s wanted to do it many times throughout his life: when you went to your high school’s prom together, when you first got your heartbroken by some dumb guy a few years ago, when you got your first apartment together. But right now, unlike all the other times, something is telling him that you want to kiss him, too.

So he does.

Hendery leans in to catch his lips with yours. He’s slow and gentle, so that if you want to pull back at any time you can. But you don’t. You push into him to show him that it’s okay, and it breaks the timid and shy spell set on both of you. You and Hendery kiss for a little longer, lips moving against one another like a bow against a violin, like two dance partners who have been dancing their whole lives together, like soulmates.

You learn about a new part of Hendery tonight: the way he likes to be touched and the way he likes to be held. You learn how his lips feel and how his tongue tastes when it’s dancing with yours. You learn that kissing has never felt so good when it’s with someone you really, truly love.

You fall asleep that night, and every night after, in Hendery’s arms. Your dreams are filled with the soft, plush lips and black, silky hair of your lover, and the best part is that when you wake up, he’s still there.

[angsty-aliens]

Truck Stop Knives And Other Accessories Of Childhood (3/3)

Final chapter of my inner child fic which was supposed to be a short little one shot and has evolved into a verse. 

Alien tech has manifested an inner child for Michael. And that child has a knife. 

Thank you again to the many people who helped beta and brainstorm, especially @jocarthage, @haloud, and @foramomentonly. You can read the whole fic on Ao3

***

Morning came earlier than Michael wanted. Apparently the downside to sharing a bed with Alex was Alex still operated on military time, and although he certainly tried to let Michael sleep in, by 7am he couldn’t resist tracing a finger across an eyebrow and down his cheek. Michael didn’t mind. There were worse ways to be woken up, then the gentle caress of Alex Manes touching his face.

At some point in the night, Alex ended up curled loosely against the curve of Michael’s back. He fit perfectly and it felt right. Michael could feel the swell of his cock slotted against the back of his boxer briefs, and he couldn’t help but arch back slightly, chasing the feeling. Alex chuckled, and tugged Michael flat on his back so he could peer down at him, propped up on an elbow.

“Hands above the waist?”

Michael leered with an exaggerated eyebrow waggle, “pretty sure your hands were above my waist.”

Alex laughed, “always gotta find the loophole, Guerin.”

They kissed softly, noses bumping together in their eagerness.

After a few minutes of lazy making out, Alex reluctantly separated. “Do we think Mikey is still asleep?”

Michael thunked his head back against the pillow with a sigh, “Mikey is definitely not still asleep. I never slept through the night in a new placement. Even though he should KNOW he’s safe here with me, I guarantee he’s been awake for hours.”

“Should I be worried about my cabin?”

“He’s not gonna burn down your cabin, Alex.”

Alex tried to sooth him, “I know that. I’m not worried about that.”

Michael grudgingly sat up and retrieved his pants from the floor. “Only one way to see…”

It took them a few minutes for Alex to attach his prosthetic and for them to get dressed. Alex tried to exit the bedroom quietly in case Michael was wrong about the boy sleeping, but sure enough, the kid was fully dressed and reassembling the toaster on his coffee table. The couch had been stripped of all bedding, and every quilt was folded neatly and tucked unobtrusively to the side. Alex’s laundry basket was full of neatly folded clothing. The boy obviously emptied the dryer when he woke up, and tried to tidy up on his own. He did a good job. A better job than Alex expected any eleven year old to do. He had practice at this.

Michael tousled the kid’s hair on the way to the kitchen, “do you want oatmeal for breakfast or pizza?”

The kid was focused on his task, and carefully screwed in part of the toaster, “pizza!”

Alex was distracted, “uh, oatmeal.” He looked around again, “thank you Mikey for cleaning up. You didn’t have to do that. I didn’t expect you to do that.”

The screwdriver hit the table as the boy looked up in alarm, “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have touched your stuff.”

“No, no it’s okay. I appreciate that you folded the laundry. You just didn’t NEED to do that. You’re a guest.” Alex tried to think of a way to salvage this exchange because the boy was definitely panicking, thinking he was in trouble. “If you want to help, we can give you chores. We can all share the chores. How does that sound?”

Mikey carefully picked the screwdriver back up again, “... I can do chores.”

Alex nodded solemnly at Mikey, a bargain struck, and he walked into the kitchen to kiss the back of Guerin’s neck, while hugging him from behind. “Why is he being a Stepford Wife?”

Michael continued to slowly move about the kitchen to heat up Alex’s oatmeal, while Alex held him like a limpet. “He promised to be nice to you.”

“Why is he tidier than you are? You leave your clothing everywhere and he’s cleaned everything up like I hired a maid service.”

Michael ran a soothing hand across Alex’s arms, locked tightly across his stomach. “Some houses liked that. Some houses required it. Religious freaks definitely required it. He’s just covering his bases. Don’t make it a big deal.”

Alex kissed his neck again and rubbed his cold nose into Michael’s curls, “I’m glad you leave messes. It drives me crazy sometimes, but I’m glad you’re comfortable enough to leave a mess.”

Michael pulled two cold slices of pizza out of the fridge and laughed, “thanks?”

Alex turned him in his arms so he was hugging him properly. Usually Michael was the clingy one, but the kid rattled him. Alex wanted affection dammit.

The two men stood in the middle of the kitchen, arms tight around each other when the kid waltzed in and grabbed his slice of cold pizza. The boy smirked at Michael, “good slumber party, huh?”

Michael raised a middle finger as the kid laughed.

Mikey smirked, “Just bros being bros! Totally platonic!”

And with his hands full of pizza, the boy disappeared back into the living room to finish working on the toaster.

With a sigh, Michael shrugged, “well he said he’d TRY to be nicer.”

***

Having an eleven year old alien around the house was both simpler and more complicated than Alex anticipated. The kid didn’t leave any big messes. He was actually obsessively clean. It was like there was no kid there at all. If Alex didn’t watch him sit at the coffee table, silently putting his toaster back together with the crust of cold pizza sticking out of the side of his mouth like a cigar, Alex could almost believe he was alone. Mikey was silent and contained. He hunched up small like he didn’t think he deserved to take up too much space. Apparently being ‘nice’ meant disappearing.

Guerin on the other hand left his boots kicked into a corner of his bedroom. His hat was on top of a lamp. His side of the bed was a rumpled mess. And he was currently humming a country song enthusiastically and off key. Alex had no question where Michael was at all times. He could close his eyes and still know, because Michael was an ever moving force of nature. Even when he tried to sit still, his knee bounced, his head swayed, his hands tapped out tunes on the arm rest. He was full of kinesthetic energy.

The complicated part of having an eleven year old alien in the house was Alex was pretty sure his couch cushions were hiding a myriad of snacks. The kid thought he was subtle, but he kept reaching between the seat cushions and nodding to himself with satisfaction. Michael insisted Alex leave it be. Apparently no conversations were needed about his couch becoming a vending machine.

The boy also didn’t have the habits most kids were taught at a very young age. Alex had to herd him into the bathroom to brush his teeth. And when Michael argued that tooth brushing was only required when his breath got nasty, Alex herded his boyfriend into the bathroom too. They could brush teeth together, like a family. A weird little Lilo and Stitch family.

Mikey had only been at the cabin for two days, but Alex couldn’t imagine a time when he didn’t exist. Isobel brought a bag of clothing and necessities from Walmart and he shrunk smaller and smaller every time she pulled out a new item, arms curled around his stomach. Like he was being buried under the invisible weight of the clothing. A new toothbrush made his shoulder hunch up to his ears, Star Wars themed pajamas had him hugging his knees to his chest, the new shoes made him tuck his chin into his arms and shrink. Michael had hugged his sister and ushered her out of the cabin before the kid could diminish any further.

Isobel meant well. “They’re Star Wars pajamas! The same design as Luke Skywalker’s flight suit! Because you always talked about wanting to see the stars.”

She meant so well.

Later Michael whispered that the kid was feeling the debt. He wasn’t used to people being nice to him without an ulterior motive. There was a currency to kindness and the boy wasn’t sure when the bill would come or what they’d ask of him. It reminded Alex of being seventeen in his father’s shed, handing Michael his brother’s guitar and watching his guard go up.

“Sometimes people can be nice for no reason.”

“Not in my experience.”

Things were clicking into place. An equation finally making sense. And all he could do was hug Michael a little tighter and hope he could give Mikey a better experience for as long as they had him.

The boy presented him with his toaster. Alex was positive the toaster was never really broken. The side was a bit dinged up from when it got knocked off the counter a few months ago. And the knob was stuck on 4, but Alex liked 4. It meant his toast was dark brown which was fine. It was perfectly adequate. He could live with 4. But now the knob turned freely, giving him every option of crispiness for his toast. And the ding had been buffed out. The kid made the toaster work like new. When Alex told him that, Mikey stood up straighter. The boy tried not to smile at the praise. In a fit of bravery, Alex reached out to toustle his hair like he watched Michael do, and the boy closed his eyes for a second and actually grinned. He could only bear Alex’s attention for a second before running off into the backyard. Like he wasn’t sure what to do with praise. It didn’t fit him comfortably, and he had to run away. Alex knew that feeling. Jesse Manes didn’t believe in praise either. Alex remembered the discomfort the first time a PE teacher congratulated him on his endurance. It felt like the comments had to be mocking. He was being made fun of. It took a long time to realize the coach was being genuine.

Michael sat next to him on the couch and kissed his cheek. “What are we doing, Alex?”

“I have no idea. I didn’t really write this into my planner. I guess we’re winging it.”

“Are we moving too fast? We went from not dating, to dating, to playing house with an eleven year old. I don’t want to ruin this.”

Alex covered Michael’s hand with his own, “We’ve been on and off for a decade. It’s not like we’re strangers. I think keeping things PG for a while between us is a good idea, but we can watch Mikey and it won’t ruin anything.”

The kid was running in circles in the backyard. If there was a game, Alex couldn’t figure it out. It just looked like circles for the sake of circles. Making himself dizzy enough to fall down.

Michael’s phone started to buzz. Who would call instead of text? The name “Liz Ortecho” flashed and he reluctantly swiped to answer.

Liz’s voice came out in a rush, “Don’t be mad.” “Elizabeth Ortecho, no good news ever came after the statement -  don't be mad.”

Liz continued, “Okay I know we were going to wait to mess with the disk until we could be at the lab together, but I…”

Michael scrubbed a hand over his face, “Oh god Liz, what did you do?”

“It’s not bad! Hey, put me on speakerphone so I don’t have to repeat this to Alex later.”

Michael placed the phone between them and pushed a button.

“You’re on speaker,” Alex was puzzled but supportive, “Liz are you okay?”

“Yeah, everything is fine. I was pressing different glyphs on the disk and I think I may have accidentally accessed a user manual. Kind of. It sort of was like a psychic connection, either I accessed a user manual, or it caused me to have a psychotic break.”

“Liz.” Alex looked at Michael in alarm.

Her voice took on a higher pitch, “It’s fine! I took notes!”

Michael rolled his eyes, “THAT is not the part we’re worried about!”

Liz ignored them, “Okay so this is what I wrote down: the disk IS a therapy tool. Its intended purpose is to encourage the patient to reconnect with a difficult point in their life and by interacting with the construct the patient develops a healthier understanding of their past.”

Michael interrupted her, “Liz I hope this thing didn’t give you brain cancer.”

“Shut up.”

“Or worse, you could have accidentally triggered your own mini Ortecho.”

Irritation colored her voice, “Michael, let me finish. The connection wasn’t in English. It was all concepts, so I’m not sure I’m translating it right. Mikey is real. He’s a real kid and he’ll age like a real kid. You’ve gotta make peace with yourself, forgive yourself, and when you’re ready you both hold onto the disk and you meld back together. It doesn’t hurt him. He’s part of you. And if you never touch the disk again, Mikey stays. He’ll grow up like any normal child. We should probably run tests on both of you though, just to see. Kyle can give you both a physical.”

Michael shook his head, “The kid is NOT going to like Valenti.”

Liz insisted, “Kyle’s great with kids. It’ll be fine.”

“Your funeral.”

Alex elbowed Michael, “Okay so why didn’t the disk meld them back together when they both touched it a few days ago?”

Liz said, “It won’t work until Michael deals with his childhood trauma.”

Michael laughed, “Sure, I can just deal with my trauma. I’ll go see a therapist and talk about my abandonment issues that began when my family crash landed in Roswell in 1947. Easy.”

Alex put a comforting hand on his shoulder, “You could talk to a therapist and leave out the alien details. You were abandoned. Your siblings were adopted and you weren’t. You survived a string of abusive foster homes. These are all human problems.”

Michael shrugged, dislodging the hand, “Therapists are expensive. You can’t just go talk to one. It’s cheaper to drink beer.”

Liz’s voice piped up through the cell phone, “Super healthy coping mechanism, Michael.”

Michael deflected, “So ANYWAY, if we don’t touch the disk, Mikey stays? And if we do touch the disk after I sell an alien kidney to talk to a shrink, then Mikey gets sucked back into me?”

He could almost hear the grimace in her voice, “Gross way to put it, but yes.”

“Okay thanks Ortecho. Don’t push anymore buttons on the disk. Max would cry if your brain melted.” Michael hung up the phone, turned to Alex and interlaced their fingers, “I can always take him back to the airstream. We can get out of your hair. I don’t know how long he’ll be here. You don’t just get over a shitty childhood in a day and go eat ice cream.”

Alex squeezed his hand, “I want you to stay here. I want you both to stay here. We can always clean out the extra bedroom. Right now it’s full of boxes from when I packed up Jim’s stuff. I can ask Kyle to go through it and keep what he wants. It’d be easy to turn that back into a bedroom.”

“Not your creepy murder basement?”

“Definitely not the creepy murder basement.” Alex considered,  “Although actually I could probably store the boxes in there!”

Alex nodded and continued, “If the kid is here for longer than a week, we can make long term plans. I can forge paperwork. Say you’re the father and you didn’t know about him. His mother moved out of Roswell and dropped him off out of the blue.”

“I would have been sixteen or seventeen when I slept with the mother. A teenage father, how scandalous… but sort of on brand for me.”

“Maybe she was a tourist? Not anyone any of the locals would remember.”

Michael laughed, “Okay so Mikey is the result of a hook up between teenage me, and an adult out of town tourist. Yeah, this is definitely sounding like something I’d do.”

Alex was starting to become more comfortable with this plan. He loved having a plan. “So we’d need a name. Michael is a super common name and maybe she liked you enough to give him your first name, but he’d need a new last name.”

“Truman. My mom’s name was Nora Truman. I don’t care what name his fake mom has, and I don’t really want people thinking I slept with someone named Nora Truman, but he could be Michael Truman. I could have been Michael Truman if my mom got me out of the pods.”

Alex watched the boy fall down and get back up to run even tighter circles. “Maybe we can let Mikey pick out his fake mom’s name. Let him have some sort of agency, and feel involved in these choices. Are you okay with me helping you?”

“Like am I okay with you co-parenting my weird alien inner child?” Michael raised an eyebrow, “This week is so weird. Yes. Please, please help me. I barely kept myself alive for twenty one years on my own. I don’t trust myself to watch TWO of me.”

Alex tugged him closer, “you did a great job on your own. And you’d do a great job now. You just shouldn’t have HAD to have done it alone as a kid, and I don’t want you to be alone now. I want to help. I don’t think we should enroll him in school anytime soon. We should try and figure out more. But I like having some sort of idea of where we’re going here.”

“You and me, and my feral little monster who has a knife”

“Wait, he has a knife?” Alex sat up.

“Oh yeah. I didn’t mention that? It’s a pocketknife. I gave it back to him because I knew he wouldn’t stab you, and you could disarm him if he tried.” Michael appeased, “Which he won’t. I promise he won’t stab you.”  

“He’s not a little monster.” Michael seemed distracted so Alex tugged on a curl to get his attention and repeated, “He’s not a little monster. And YOU’RE not a little monster. He’s a kid and we’re gonna make sure he eats a vegetable every once in awhile, and goes to sleep at a decent hour. We can do this.”

“I mean we’re already doing a better job than any of my foster homes.”

“That bar is pretty low.”

“And yet it exists.”

They eased back on the couch and watched Mikey play.

***

Michael leaned against the backdoor watching his shrinky dink alien run. The kid was playing some sort of weird running game with rules only he knew, and that Michael definitely didn’t remember. One foot managed to get hooked behind the other and the kid landed hard on his ass. Michael winced in sympathy. “Is your butt okay?”

The kid retorted, “is your BRAIN okay?

Michael shrugged, “If your butt hurts we can get Max to heal it. We don’t let him use his powers much anymore since I turned him into a cyborg with an alien pacemaker, but he could heal your butt. You’d just end up with a shiny silver handprint… on your butt. And Max could spy on your feelings, and you’d get to wallow in his poetic angst and guilt.”

The kid narrowed his eyes, “I can’t even tell if you’re kidding. Is that real? Max can heal? But with a handprint and psychic link?”

“Yep.”

Mikey huffed in irritation, “Pretty sure you’re making stuff up, but whatever. What can Isobel do? Fly but she poops alien glitter as a side effect?”

“You should DEFINITELY tell Isobel your theories.” Michael laughed, “But no, she can get into people's brains and influence them.”

Mikey side eyed him, “does she do that to us?”

“No. She promised. Sometimes she can get inside my head but she promises she won’t try to influence us. I don’t even know if she can. She’s only tried the brain thing when she needed to tell me something she couldn’t say out loud.” Michael grimaced, “I didn’t like it. She doesn’t do it often. Apparently our brain is tough and she usually has to puke if she tries anything. SHE says it’s because we’re guarded and paranoid. I think it’s because we’re awesome.”

Michael offered up a hand to high five and the kid pushed past him to the kitchen instead. Ouch.

The kid was getting a glass of water and rummaging around the fridge which made Michael grin. It took awhile to get Mikey to stop asking permission for every single thing. But Michael remembered all the homes that had strict rules about the kitchen. The religious zealots had a lock on the fridge to discourage their charges from greed. Apparently a kid being hungry was the mortal sin of gluttony.

With his head still in the fridge the kid absentminded asked, “Max is a cyborg?”

“He ended up with a heart issue. Long story. I made him a pacemaker and he’s fine now.” Michael wrinkled his nose, “Mostly.”

Mikey kicked the door shut with his hands full of food. “That’s good. Isobel would miss him if something happened to him.”

Michael pulled down a plate to help the boy make a sandwich, “Yeah, Isobel would miss him.”  

The two of them stood side by side making sandwiches. It was good. Eating when hungry. Michael had gotten so used to caregivers forgetting to feed him, that he trained himself to ignore hunger. Unless it was really bad, it didn’t bother him so much anymore. Grabbing a granola bar for breakfast and then working straight through until seven or eight pm wasn’t unusual. It just seemed like a waste of energy to worry about what was for lunch when for so many years there was no lunch. Michael grew up loving school. Not only was it a place he excelled, but he also got breakfast and lunch every day there. He never understood the jokes about how gross cafeteria food was. For him, it was the closest thing to a home cooked meal he was ever gonna get. A sloppy joe served by Mrs. Riley every wednesday at New Roswell High, was his version of a dinner cooked by mom. Summers and Winter break were hard. No school meant no little plastic trays with cartons of chocolate milk and plastic silverware. School was a good place. Michael had liked school.

He cut the sandwiches in half like he’d watched Alex do. It seemed nicer that way. The kid carefully took his plate with two hands. No danger of dropping it. And Michael grabbed plates for himself and Alex, and took them to the table. Lunch. Yet another new thing Michael was trying.

They’d have to figure out what to do the longer Mikey stayed. Michael and Alex both took the day off of work, but the kid would need to go somewhere during the day starting soon. Maybe Max or Isobel. Max was still doing night shifts at the Pony and Isobel was taking a sabbatical from her event planning business. If they went public with the story that Mikey was Michael’s son, he could hang out in the junkyard with him. Michael could fix cars and there were a thousand things the kid could play with. Most foster homes didn’t let Michael fiddle with things. But he loved taking stuff apart and putting it back together. A junkyard was a perfect playground for an engineering genius.

Mikey and Alex were having an animated conversation about the merits of Ninja Turtles. Apparently Alex thought Leonardo was the best because he was the leader and was the most focused. Mikey insisted it was Michelangelo because of… pizza. And honestly, Michael had to agree. Pizza always wins. He grinned at his boys and took another huge bite of his sandwich. Maybe this would work after all.

***

Sleeping in Alex’s bed was never going to get old. There was a Michael shaped divot on the right side of the mattress. Even when he got up, he could see the impression of his body. Alex insisted this meant the mattress was shitty and he needed a new one, but Michael liked the evidence he was there.

He curled up closer to Alex and let his hand rest on his hip, technically breaking the hands above the waist rule but so long as his hand didn’t move, it seemed safe enough. His thumb fit perfectly in the hollow of Alex’s hip. He had rubbed a gentle circle when the part of his brain connected to Mikey pinged a distress call again. With a sigh he climbed out of bed, and hoped he didn’t wake Alex as he left.

The kid was sitting up on the couch wrapped in a quilt. Mikey picked at a loose thread on the knee of his Star Wars pajamas. Michael sat next to him and let him lean his weight against his side.

“Bad dream?”

The kid shrugged and pulled his knees up to his chest.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Mikey shook his head. A few minutes later he blurted, “I heard you and Alex.”

“Heard us what?”

Mikey rocked a little in place, “Talking about how the disk works. How you gotta talk about your emotions so we meld together like a transformer, Mega-Michael, or you’re stuck with me.”

Michael protested, “I don’t have to talk about my emotions.”

“Sometimes you gotta share your fart with the world. You keep it all squeezed up in your butt and it gives you a stomach ache. You just gotta let it out to feel better.”

“My emotions aren’t farts.” Michael crossed his arms defensively.

“But your face is a fart,”

“We have the same face!”

The kid smirked, “Nah, I look awesome. You look constipated.”

Mikey became quiet and serious. He pressed his body against Michael’s side, trying to become a Mega-Michael without alien technology. “You gotta be okay with the bad stuff that happened to us. You’ve gotta… not blame me.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“You blame yourself. I blame me. Bad things happened everywhere we went. We were the only constant factor in the experiment, therefore we’re the variable at fault. It’s just science.”

Michael wrapped both arms around the kid, “I don’t blame you.”

The boy huffed, “You’re stuck with me for awhile. If we don’t touch the disk, you could be stuck with me forever.”

Michael rested his chin on the kid’s head, “That wouldn’t totally suck.”

Mikey closed his eyes, “Alex might not be a fan of this plan.”

“Alex likes this plan.” The Michaels looked up as Alex spoke with a smile. At some point he wandered into the hallway unnoticed. His shoulder was against the wall and he leaned heavily on his crutch. He had been eavesdropping.

The kid tried to push himself out of Michael’s hug, but Michael just squeezed him tighter.

Mikey insisted, “You won’t like me. I’m a mess.”

Alex sat on the other side of him and wrapped an arm around his boys, “I like messes.”

“No you don’t. You’re clean. You make your bed perfectly every morning and you always do your dishes. You’d get tired of me. I’m loud.”

“The cabin was too quiet anyway.”

“I’m… I’m mean. I’ll say mean things.”

Alex ran a hand through the boy’s curls, “It’s okay. You can say mean things and we’ll still like you. You can still stay here. We’re choosing you. We want you to stay.”

Mikey tried to push at the arms embracing him. He kicked at Michael as his eyes welled up, “I’m gonna break all the stuff you like!”

Michael winced as a bony heel caught his thigh, “Yeah but we can fix it. Anything you break we can fix together.”

It was like someone cut the strings of a dancing marionette. The kid lost all fight and fat tear drops streamed down his face to his horror. “You’re gonna change your mind.”

Michael looked at Alex, a silent conversation happening above the boy’s head. Michael wiped a glob of snot off the kid’s face with the hem of his shirt. “We’re picking you. On purpose. We want you to stay. Do you want to stay?”

Mikey took a great shuddering breath and nodded.

Alex thumbed away a tear, “Then as long as you want us, we want to keep you.”

It wasn’t a conventional family. It wasn’t something Michael ever thought he’d have. But Michael, Alex, and Mikey could pick each other. That was a thing they could do. And they’d be okay.

[underimagines]

easy as pie

Summary: It's Asgore's birthday. If only he'd come out of the room to celebrate it with you.

3.5k-Kofi Commission - Asgore/Reader, Horrortale!AU, Post-Surface

read it on ao3 / buy me a coffee

You hummed softly to yourself as you rolled the dough between your flour-covered palms.

“What kind of pie should I make?”

There were so many different types. Apple, blueberry, peach, pecan, cinnamon, pumpkin—and you liked all of them. But you weren’t sure what kind of pie Asgore liked.

He always seemed to dodge the question when you asked, for whatever reason. So, you were flying by the seat of your pants here. You wanted to make something he’d enjoy.

Maybe apple would be the best bet? It was a classic. And you could add some cinnamon to it, for spice. Or maybe pumpkin-spice would be more appropriate for the impending Fall weather. But maybe that was too predictable.

You laid the dough flat and reached for a rolling pin. It was a cute one, with little patterns embedded in the wood. It made the dough look like it had flowers carved into it.

The sight of them reminded you of the bubbling pot of tea you’d set off to the side. The machine had stopped hissing, so that meant it was done. You switched the pot off, surveying the dark amber liquid inside. Golden flower tea was definitely one of both of your favorites, so at the least, you knew that wouldn’t be any problem.

You decided to set the pie idea aside for the moment and check on your main course.

The chicken was cooking nicely, spinning in a slow circle in the rotisserie machine. You could see the juices dripping off of it. The smell of it was enough to make your stomach growl. A fresh bowl of hand-tossed salad sat in the fridge, cooling as you waited for dinnertime to approach.

You still had a few hours left to prepare everything else, including the pie.

Taking ahold of the to-be crust, you began work carving it into the right shape and size to fit into the pie-tin. As you settled it into the pan, crimping the edges, you settled on cinnamon-apple. There was nothing wrong with the classics, after all! Besides, you’d bought too many Granny Smiths at the grocery store the other day, and you needed a use for them before they started to spoil.

The crust slid into the fridge, next to the salad, where it would wait for the next half hour or so as you prepared the filling.

You reached for the first apple and a paring knife, and began to work it around the apple, allowing the skin to fall in messy curls onto the cutting board you’d set out for the vegetables.

As you sliced the apple, you felt your mind wandering.

It was amazing to think that this was your four-year anniversary together. Time had gone by so fast, and it still felt like it was just yesterday that you’d run into him at the supermarket, after you’d both reached for the same jar of peanut-butter. A jar of the same peanut-butter sat in your cupboard, nearly empty. You’d have to grab more the next time you went grocery shopping.

The sound of chirping birds outside your window brought a sense of peacefulness to the day. It almost felt perfect. You wished you knew how to make it perfect. Because, despite your efforts, all done in the memory of someone you loved with every fiber of your being, said king of monsters hadn’t left your bedroom all day.

It wasn’t an issue of laziness. Asgore was a man who loved comfort, but he was far from lazy.

No, this was something pie and golden flower tea alone couldn’t fix. What he was suffering from was a kind of emptiness and pain that you knew you could never really understand, or fix. But that was the important thing, you had to keep reminding yourself: it wasn’t your job to “fix” Asgore, just to be there for him. It was his responsibility to take the steps for himself, and he’d been doing a good job, before this relapse.

What was it that had brought this on? Seasonal depression usually didn’t kick in for you until Fall or Winter, and though Fall was nearing, as far as Mother Nature was concerned, it was still summertime.

Maybe it was the memory of something you just couldn’t understand.

The Underground had never been particularly kind to Monsters, and it was taking an equally long time for the Surface to get used to the transition as well. For every little step forward, it felt like society was taking five steps back—maybe even ten, sometimes. It was really incredibly frustrating.

You wished you knew how to help more than what you could already offer. But sometimes that just had to be enough.

You set the paring knife and half peeled apple aside, sighing as you glanced at the clock. Time was going by so slowly. The day was dragging on forever, and even though it was a lovely day, something in you just wanted it to be over and done with as quickly as it could be.

Since you still had some time before things would be finished with dinner, you decided to stop by the room and check in on your partner. You filled a teacup with hot, fresh tea and carefully carried it up the stairs, stopping in front of your bedroom door.

You knocked, softly. “Asgore?”

There was the sound of shuffling, then a soft, low, “Yes?”

“Would you like some tea?”

“…Yes.”

You slowly pushed the door open, allowing a single beam of light to crack into the darkness. It cascaded across your bed, landing across the graying, hollowed cheeks of your king. His eyes were ringed with circles so dark that they were practically purple. His hair was messy, a side-effect of bedhead. He looked so much older than you knew he actually was. Or maybe, if time had been able to catch-up with him the way that he said it did for Boss Monsters, it was actually more accurate.

Cautiously, you approached the bedside, holding a hand beneath the cup to keep it from dripping onto the plush carpet of your bedroom.

“Here, freshly made and piping hot. Just like you like it.”

He pulled himself out from under the covers in a painfully slow way. Asgore loomed over you in the dark, staring off into nothingness. Still, a small smile graced his lips as he took the warm cup from your hands.

“Ah…thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You said in a voice so soft that it was practically a whisper. “How are you feeling?”

Asgore took a long sip from the teacup. As he pulled it away from his lips, he let out a long, deep sigh. “I would like to say better…but truthfully, I do not feel that much different.”

“Hopefully the tea will help?”

Another smile, slightly more genuine this time, less polite. “Yes. Thank you for the offer, I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.” You said, fidgeting in your spot on the bed. You wanted to reach out and hold him, to wrap your arms around his big fuzzy shoulders and cradle his messy mop of graying-blonde hair until he felt better. But you hesitated.

Maybe it was nervousness, or embarrassment. Whatever it was, Asgore seemed to sense it. He placed the cup aside, on the bedside table, and turned his clouded eyes up to meet yours.

“You seem tense.” He said, reaching out to take both of your hands. His paws were so big, he could hold both of your hands in just one of his. “Would you care to talk about it?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that question?” You shared a tired smile. “It’s a big day, you know.”

His grip tensed slightly. With another sigh, his shoulders slumped. “I would suppose that it is.”

“I would ask how old you are now, but…” The thought of it made you wrinkle your nose. “Maybe it’s better that I don’t.”

He laughed softly. “I don’t blame you. It’s been so long now; I can hardly remember myself. Thinking about it just makes me feel even older.”

“Since you’re not a fan of cake, I decided on apple-cinnamon pie. How does that sound?”

You could see, even in the darkness, how his eyes lit up at the thought. “Wonderful. Thank you, my dear.”

“You’re very welcome, love.”

He ducked his head, a blush tinting his hollowed cheeks as he bit back a smile. His tiny fangs peeked out from under his upper lip as he nibbled on his lower one. You had to stop yourself from leaning in and kissing him silly. He was just so damn adorable sometimes.

“Would you like to open your presents now?”

He paused, thinking it over. You could see the cogs turning in his head, as he tried to settle on a decision. It was exactly like asking a kid if they wanted to open one of their Christmas presents early on Christmas Even or to wait for Christmas Day.

“Maybe…just one, wouldn’t hurt?”

You laughed and stood, clapping your hands together. You knew exactly the gift you were going to choose. “Wait right here, I’ll be right back!”

“I’ll be waiting.” He said, his eyes never leaving you as you turned on your heel and practically danced out of the room, into the well-lit hallway.

You made a beeline for the broom closet near the front door. Asgore almost never looked there when he needed something. In fact, he’d look everywhere but. Which is what made it the perfect hiding spot.

Peeking back over your shoulder, just to make sure he hadn’t decided to follow you, you opened the door, revealing the contents waiting inside.

It was mostly just coats, jackets and shoes, some boxes of supplies and old knick-knacks that you hadn’t put up for the upcoming holidays quite yet. An umbrella or two, even a couple of hats. But hidden in the far corner, behind all of those distractions, sat a tiny, perfectly square box. It was wrapped neatly in red paper, with a bright yellow ribbon tied neatly and sitting on top.

You had the rest of his presents sitting in the kitchen, on the dining room table, where they’d continue to wait until after dinner. But this gift was special, when you had started planning, you’d gone through extra measures to make sure that it would be the last one he would open.

But now seemed like the perfect time for him to open it, even if it was a little early.

You tucked the box carefully into the crook of your arm, holding it close to your chest as you made your way back to the bedroom.

He was still sitting there, waiting patiently as you stepped into the darkness.

“I’ll have to turn on the lights, now.”

The both of you flinched when you flipped the switch, the brightness a shock as it flooded through the room like someone had pulled the sun into your bedroom. Asgore blinked a few times, rubbing the sleepy from his eyes. When his gaze landed on you again, his eyes jumped to the box sitting in your arms, and you watched his entire face brighten.

“I…I take it that is for me?”

“It sure is!” You giggled, holding it out as you approached. He took it from you, gingerly, holding it in his lap like it was the most precious thing in the world. You laughed again as you reclaimed your spot at the end on the side of the bed, placing a hand on his arm. “You’re supposed to open it first, then ogle at the surprise. Not the other way around, Gorey.”

He resumed nibbling on his lower lip. The pink flushed across his cheeks reached all the way down to the tips of his ears. Even though he still looked exhausted, he was noticeably more animated, turning the box this way and that like a curious child. He even lifted it up to his ear, and gently shook it.

“Careful!” You chided, playfully.

“Oh!” He quickly put it back into his lap. “My apologies! I hope I did not break it.”

“It’s not gonna break that easily, trust me.” You rolled your eyes, smiling. “Just hurry up and open it!”

“Okay! Okay…” He took a deep breath, his fingers dancing around the ribbon like he wasn’t sure where to start. He finally picked one of the curls, hooking a claw into it. With one tug, the entire ribbon loosened and fell away. Asgore blinked in surprise, resting his hand on the top of the box.

He looked to you for assurance. You gave him a gentle smile and a wink, gesturing for him to open it.

Asgore gently lifted the top of the box away, and as he stared down at his present, a wide, happy smile stretched across his face. He grinned from ear-to-ear as he reached in and carefully pulled out a large, fancy scrapbook.

It was a lovely beige color, with ornate, delicate patterns woven into the leather binding in faux gold string. A beautiful watercolor painting adorned the front, of a messy, but elegant bouquet of various flowers.

“Look inside.” You instructed.

He looked to you again, still smiling, before flipping it open to a random page.

“Oh!” Asgore gasped. “Is this…?”

You waited as he explored the insides of the little book, looking through all the different sections. There were blank sheets, some accompanied by dioramas of different flowers of all kinds. Some were colored in with watercolor. Most were blank, with scattered text dotting the page around them, pointing out the plants’ anatomy, facts, and various other little tidbits that only the most hardcore of gardeners would be able to relate to. Lucky for you, and Asgore, he fit the bill to a t.

“It’s like,” you waved your hands through the air as you spoke, trying to find the best way to describe it, “like a book about gardening, combined with a scrapbook. You can put pictures in it, and pressed flowers, and it’s got lots of little do-it-yourself charts and stuff that you can fill out will stuff from your own garden! I put something special in the back.”

He flipped to it eagerly, then paused on the image that greeted him. You watched several emotions flash across his face. Something happy, then painful, then finally, content.

“It is lovely, dearest.” Asgore whispered, running his hands over the array of pressed flowers you’d decorated the last two pages with. Seeds, petals, and paint dripped across your makeshift canvas, forming the portrait of an abstract, vivacious garden. Full of colors and life, and everything else you could pack into the couple of pieces of blank paper.

“You really like it?” You wrung your hands nervously. It had taken you a long time to finish it, and now looking at it, you were actually kind of proud of what you’d managed to accomplish.

“I love it.” He said, reaching out again to take your hand in his own. He lifted it to his lips, gentle kissing each of your knuckles. “And I…love you.”

You felt a tornado of butterflies flitting around in your stomach as his sweet gesture and low voice. He knew exactly which buttons to press to make you flustered, and as you caught the twinkle in his eye, you knew that he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“I—I’m really glad you like it.” You sighed, trying not to focus on the way your face burned, like someone was holding you in front of an open oven.

“I do,” he closed the book gently, holding it to his chest with the brightest smile you’d seen on him all day, “I’m going to put a lot of use into this, I promise you that.”

“Good! I’m going to hold you to that.”

You took the opportunity to swoop in and steal a kiss from him. But as you pulled away—or tried to, at least, Asgore’s hand came up to wrap around the back of your head, pulling you back.

His claws tangled in your hair as you kissed, the bristles of his thick beard scratching your chin and cheeks. You could feel his fangs prick your lips, but you didn’t flinch. You didn’t even mind. You leaned in and kissed him with everything you had.

You didn’t stop kissing until the harsh buzzing tone of the oven timer rang out, ripping through your tender moment like the much unwanted guest that it was.

You groaned as the both of you untangled from one other. “Now of all times?”

Asgore’s entire face glowed a satisfied pink. He was breathing heavily, his eyes shimmering with thousands of tiny stars. He looked so genuinely happy.

“Perhaps the distraction would be good. Before we get too…carried away.”

Your cheeks burned at the tone in his voice. To your surprise, Asgore stood up, dragging himself onto his feet, still clutching the journal like a child with his favorite storybook. “Would you happen to require any help, dear?”

“Actually,” you smiled, “I was just about to start working on that pie.”

“Then I’m just in time.” He returned the smile with a little crinkle of his nose. “You said apple-cinnamon right?”

You nodded. “You hungry?”

“Ah, well…” He didn’t have a chance to answer, because his stomach did the answering for him. The sound of the growl bounced around the cozy room, so loud and commanding that it made you smirk.

“I take that as a yes.”

He followed you into the kitchen, staring at the wide array of food with amazement in his eyes as you reached over and turned the oven timer off, opening the door to let the food inside begin cooling. “All of this, just for me?”

“Yep!” You chirped, ”We’ve got roasted chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, sweet potato fries, homemade macaroni and cheese, mixed salad…”

You had to count off on your fingers to remember everything. It was like cooking Thanksgiving dinner, but just for the two of you. There was no worry about food going to waste in this household, though. Not with Asgore’s appetite.

You watched his hungry gaze travel from dish to dish. You could practically see his mouth watering. His stomach rumbled again, and he placed a hand over it, as if trying to quiet it down.

“Dearest, you didn’t have to—”

“Shush,” you picked up a spatula and turned, playfully threatening to smack him with it. “Not a word out of you, Mister. Now I’m going to work on this crust. If you could finish up the filling, I would appreciate it.”

“Ah…of course.” He nodded, approaching the bowl of sliced apples you’d left on the countertop eagerly. You watched him pop a slice into his mouth and chew thoughtfully. “Where should I start?”

“Just mix what I have on the counter over there into that big mixing bowl.” You instructed, turning back to where the top of your pie crust sat, waiting for you to roll it flat and begin primping and pinching it into shape. “And don’t eat all of the apples! We need them for the pie.”

“Of course.” He chuckled. “Oh! And before I forget.”

He pulled the journal from under his arm and moved into the living room, gently setting it on the counter of the nearby side table. Among the pictures you’d taken together, memorabilia of your time together, and other remnants of your love-filled memories, the book sat, waiting patiently for his attention.

“Now I’ll definitely remember where it is.” He explained as he turned, catching sight of your questioning gaze.

You smiled as a familiar warmth curled through your chest, blooming like the flowers sitting inside the book.

You worked quietly, stepping around each other to reach the ingredients you needed in such a graceful way that it almost felt like dancing. The sun had begun to set past the trees, bathing the kitchen in oranges and pinks. The colors sparked and caught fire in Asgore’s hair, giving him the appearance of a Monster that you imagined he once was. And who you hoped he could one day be, again.

This would definitely be a good start.

Asgore finished mixing everything together and placed the bowl off to the side. He turned, reaching around you for a paper towel.

As Asgore leaned in close, you stood on your tiptoes, catching him by the beard. He let out a surprised gasp as you gently drew him down to your level, giving him a tiny, sweet kiss. He tasted sweet, just like the apples you had bought.

He stared at you as you pulled away, the tiny divots of his pupils bouncing around as upside-down hearts inside of his eyes. As the sun danced around his face, it made them look even brighter. It was the kind of memory you never, ever wanted to forget.

“Happy birthday, Asgore.”

---

Thank you @piixiev for commissioning me! <3

[no-no-no-ahhhh]

I'm having bad anxiety so I'm just going to answer these questions rn

Okay so when having anxiety I over think and I barely have any friends so I thought if using these questions to keep my mind off things and it kinda works it's also why some are long because I'm trying my best to think about other things then my stress. Maybe some of yall can try this if you want. Could help idk

Questions belong to @tr33-g1rl

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

Soda cans

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

I LOVE chocolate bro

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

Cotton candy because let's all be honest bubble gum doesn't even tast good so that just leaves texture and cotton candy dissolves abs you could always have normal gum

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

Some would say nice hard working smart and dyslexic but that's what they say not actually think

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

I've never really had the soda bottles but for now Ig soda cans because I feel like it keeps it fresher then the plastic and plastic is bad

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

Umm out of all these ig tomboy my style that I try to go for more rn is kinda like bille eyelash baddie style

7. earbuds or headphones?

Def earbuds cuz headphones if left on too long start hurting and squeezing my head

8. movies or tv shows?

TV shows 100% I cant consum media for long (my anxiety)so cartoons are the best for me because they're usually 11 minutes and light hearted

9. favorite smell in the summer?

Hmm this is good question in my head summer looks so good ahh but I've never really had a sent for it cuz the past few years I've been in my room but I love the sun oh and you know when your about to go in the pool and you can smell the Clorox mixed with the sun block and that smell just smells like a soft nice energy and there is this one tropical sent havent really smelt it in years I remember the one time I got to smell it was in middle school in the girls locker room so ig it was a perfume idk if it was really associated with summer or it was just tropical perfume my mom could spray on anytime of the year

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

Lol none I hated p.e I was also pretty tall at the time so people expected me to play but I just wanted to hide in the corner

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

Well I don't really like breakfast that much I think food in the morning makes me nauseous but I have to eat it cuz I can't eat school lunch food cuz that shit is nasty but breakfast school food is 😉 so I usually get banana bread and good ass duch chocolate milk

12. name of your favorite playlist?

Por Vida is one of my favorite albums if that counts

13. lanyard or key ring?

I hate things being around my neck so key ring

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

Mexican candy

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

The outsiders

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

Your butt relaxing ig and not hunched over idk how some people do their work not hunched over like how do you see what your working on

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

These white Adidas with 3 halo strips and tan boots

18. ideal weather?

To wear you can soak in the sun but not have it burn you right when you go outside and kinda breezy not a fan of the cold and whatever weather that isn't effected by global warming is the best

19. sleeping position?

I always try not to sleep on my back cuz then they say that the demons come for you

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

I have a lot of journals and books to write

21. obsession from childhood?

My little pet shops, barbies, fnaf, teen titans, monster high dolls, beanie babes, never brats or the ever after high dolls cuz I had a fear of big heads as a kid

22. role model?

Em their are not many people to look up to these days but Quenlin Blackwell is even though she struggles with depression and seasonal depression she still is a qween love her

23. strange habits?

24. favorite crystal?

Hmm maybe amethyst one of the only ones I have

25. first song you remember hearing?

No idea

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

Be in the sun

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

Not have the seasonal depression come for me

38. lemonade or tea?

Lemonade bro tea is kinda weak and for BrItish blocks , but today I did have a bunch of lemons and they got me sick cuz I dont have a healthy balanced diet if anybody knows simple healthy recipes that have little to no cooking pls share

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

I've never actually have had lemon pie but I have been thinking about making pie. I've had peacon pie and water burger apple pie and McDonald's apple pie and I think another fast food pie but I can't remember the flavor. I know the other flavor exist because my mom order a different pie flavor from me once and she said we can both try each others. Maybe it was lemon. I think lemon tast is quit forgettable thow idk I always put other things on my lemon and lemonade has all that sugar and speaking of Britain I think they carbonate their lemons . But I think I've only had lemon cake 2 times , so if the cake

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

School is lame and that's on period pooh

41. last person you texted?

Umm this girl I barely know and I'm going to leave it at that cuz this story makes me kinda sad and worried and I'm answering these questions to avoid that

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

Hmm good question , I think jacket because they are bigger and girl Jean's have the pockets different to make the booty look better and sometimes that leads to uncomfortable pockets and front pockets barely exit for girls and jackets sometimes have those secret pockets only you have assess too like the ones on the inside and jacket pockets are bigger

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

1. hoodies are good for when you dont have a bra on and they come with one BIG pocket and you dont need to worry about a shirt

2. Leather jackets are for cool kidz and carry a nice vibe and still thick enough to keep you warm , but you can't really get them wet I think so you can't wash em , but they can come with cool designs on the back but their better fitted on perfectly on a person and if you grow they just look odd on you then you have to buy another and that's not fun

3.Bomber jacket , it's a whole style but one I try to pull of but just cant do it well

4.Cardigans kinda umm not a fan but good if your wearing a dress that's shows your shoulders and you are insecure about that being shown. Remember when somewhere in the 2000s they told us that cardigans where so easy to put on and throw more into your outfit so people bought quit a few. I do

5.I feel like jeans jackets aren't warm enough maybe their more for the summer?

44. favorite scent for soap?

Hmm maybe something tropical or just those cool lavender ones that have oats that's cool I like oats in my soap

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

I hate sci-fi uhhhg and super hero kinda ties in with that so fantasy and when reading fan fic just sweet simple domestic fluff

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

Hmm not sure but the shirt has to be soft. I only experience soft shirts like that few times in my life

47. favorite type of cheese?

Mexican cheese and blue cheese uhg and mozzarella with that crust, yum🤤

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be? Errrum maybe a watermelon cuz they are very hydrated. Oh and watermelon with the big black seeds is better then that soul less watermelon

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

None dawg I really need to find one but I do have a lot written down In a book

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

Omg my aunt had some funny looking ass dogs I couldn't stop laughing. One of her dogs hate me tho now

51. current stresses? I dont want to talk about it cuz I dont want to worry but I was crying for more then 6 hours probably 8 when I think about it and then today as well and it's so bad I'm not even going to school

52. favorite font? I like the one kali uchis uses in one of her albums I think it's called fairy tell or something

53. what is the current state of your hands?pretty dry cuz I wash them alot and kinda long nails cuz of genetics

54. what did you learn from your first job?

I havent had a first job

55. favorite fairy tale?

Hmmm something with the tooth fairy

56. favorite tradition?

Idk holidays cuz I get school off

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

Depression and I would say anxiety but no

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

I dont have any talents

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

Uuuuyg idk too stressed to really think that I dont even know what type of video game I would be in

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

nothing stressful maybe something calm like a farm anime, some light magic, pokemon things like that

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

I was never ment to live life like a sim - megan the stallion

62. seven characters you relate to?

Anybody with anxiety, kinda pearl from Steven universe, the nerdy part of dipper from gravity falls , Roman from sander sides if virgil too sense he has anxiety okay and that's all I can think of I think early I said I dont really watch media or stuff so yeah

63. five songs that would play in your club?

Gosolina kali uchis songs and bank account that's all I can think about rn

64. favorite website from your childhood?64. favorite website from your childhood?

Y8 brooo oh and there was Disney or Nickelodeon websites you know that show with the hands and they had the googly eyes they had a g as new for that loved it and for Disney they had zack and cody games on their website and it's not a website but the one thing on windows that would work without wifi you know and you could make cakes and give them faces and try matching the cards

65. any permanent scars?

One time a cat scratched me more the like 8 years ago and I can still faintly see the mark

66. favorite flower(s)?

The one that grows on the cactus

67. good luck charms?

I know a rabbits foot is one and 4 leaf clovers,and markipliers flannel. I sadly dont have any personal good luck charms

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

I don't want to talk about bad foods rn cut the cameras

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

idk I think I can vaguely remember every facts orgin that I know

70. left or right handed?

Basic right handed but my dad used to be left but then the school forced him to be right

71. least favorite pattern?

Anything 80s uhg that shit is disgusting and terrifying

72. worst subject?

Chemistry but I just got out of that so that's fun

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

People day hot cheetos and sour cream is odd but I like it . I would wat some rn but I think I got sick cuz of my poor diet so I'm not. Someone pls suggested simple easy foods for your girl who can cook

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

1 I am big baby

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

I dont know

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

Tater tots are good and fries

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

Idk no green thumb

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

Idk ig coffee

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

Jewel tones

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

Theirs a difference?

82. pc or console?

Console it's just simpler

83. writing or drawing?

Uhhheg ig drawing I'm bad at grammar

84. podcasts or talk radio?

Podcast, podcast are just more plans out then talk radio and talk radio is a morning thing and I'm not the biggest fan of mornings

85. fairy tales or mythology?

Fairy tales mythology kinda ruff ya know

86. cookies or cupcakes?

Cookies their just more sturdy and their is always normal cake

87. your greatest fear?

Tooo many things and I'm having an anxiety attack right now so like no

88. your greatest wish?

Well it's cute and all idk to live peacefully is one part the other parts a secret for now

X.o.x.o gossip girl ya know ya love me

89. who would you put before everyone else?

Umm maybe myself Idk

90. luckiest mistake?

One time my mom ordered a foam sord for my brother and a real one came. It was some anime sword

91. boxes or bags?

Bags cuz they look cute and you can take em every where with you. Disposable I would have to say boxes tho because its less damaging to the environment

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

Sunlight is so warm and it fills something inside of me makes me feel cozy

Lamps are great for when sleeping and your scared of the dark

Fairy lights are cute but are they neccessary

Overhead lights are good for when you just need light in your life

Am I the only one who gets sad and sometimes cant clean if it's dark in the house?

94. favorite season?

Summer I think. I know it's harder for me to function in the winter cuz depression but then summer is anxiety sometimes ya know

95. favorite app on your phone?

Littetly no idea I don't really love/like the things on my phone if their more distractions or time wasters but I do love how I can search up useful things on YouTube to try to calm down my anxiety and I was definitely not a fan of tumblr at all but I kind have made it my safe place a bit

96. desktop background?

Well the computers my dad's so it has deadpool on i

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

Barely 2 ,I am kinda a dummy sorry unggv

98. favorite historical era?

Well idk heehaww cowboys?

[sidpah]

Mirage Part 1

Holding but one thing dear, I glance around taking in my last few particulars, storing up existence fodder for the next go round, when from a great cloud of sewer steam and taxi exhaust materializes an imposing mirage… Her feline grace bare, unclothed, riding a pale drift of clove smoke – A Devi creating, preserving, destroying, all without a single movement…

Drams of ambrosia pour from somewhere even higher than these sky-piercing glass-lingam rooftops to shower her swells of fallow lust; a thousand stunned countrymen are locked mid-commute, their destinations moments ago all-important, all-encompassing and now entirely forgotten… She runs a playful hand across hazy pink nipple and giggles – unaware of her growing horde of admirers.

It must be a sign! – A grainy photograph, an ad for perfume! An ad for the temptation of addiction – feeding our addiction to temptation… A pitchfork singeing the eye, loosed from flaming bow...

But how can I get down there? Even one Kaya into the great old celestial lightshow, I’m struck dumb by her limitless perfections laid bare… I feel blessed, even in this state of high-street marketplace confusion… I place a finger to open temple…

A resonant tone hums from every mouth that stands nearby, gaping without extending word of aid – Spiked rings of Sri Yantra surround each body like protective nets –

A car backfires, I wince, a thousand mandalas shatter into frantic ripples of panic – The ripples cascade upward where they shimmer the clouds and constellations – I lie, gaze anchored to the firmament, far above crumbling buildings into the same sky overlooking every city with a hum of migrating wings beating pulses in sync with my own… If I immerse myself in, all lines become phallic and all circles leak a tiny red dot upon white lace coverlet...

No mind can distinguish between fantasy and physicality, I once explained to a sullen stranger – I’m thinking of Olivia and I making love on a bridge over the unbridled current of a great blue-black ocean...

The Sun caroming, dispersed into a million glistening jewels of flame on the water’s crust, the reflected heat warming our bare skin... Images of our escapades flicker on brick storefronts… Sex in limousines, windows wide open spreading our screams like tails of red paint across the city – Mouth buried deep between her slick thighs in the bathroom of a snooty French restaurant; her bare ass on the ledge of a white marble sink, her fingers knotted in my hair grinding her pelvis in rhythm with the impatient knocking on the door – Fucking like feral cats in an alleyway, my back enmeshed with a pile of rancid black trash bags, empty cans rattle and clank…

“It’s so much better with rats scurrying round their ubiquitous shadowed homes,” this old alcohol-beaten professor used to tell all the girls, and all the gin-soaked sailors looking for an erotic word to get their pants off – Thrown into fits of the passion he could never find alone – Trash cans and bar bands singing a tune just for them… But I keep those images to myself. Instead, I’m jacking-off on this goddamn street corner to found photos of a lovely girl with hiked-skirt pressed flat against magazine gloss inches from my panting face… She’s lying on hardwood floor, smooth pink skin rolling beneath outlines of my dry chapped fingers… White shirt, mostly unbuttoned, tussled around sinuous midriff, musky perfume evaporates in heat ripples off the concrete – Heart pumps, stomach churns, sweat beads, cock ejaculates just as hard – My hands and her arched belly merge as spilt ink in gossamer waters – caressed by the other until both water and ink dissolve in a fresh creation naked and straddling an invisible lover’s neck…

 Oh, fated Ixion, I too must share your fiery revolving torment… It’s clear now; it is far too late for me to avoid the dim lights on this revolution… I’m too skittish and fearful to recognize my own transcendent radiance...

Oh, to be even a Once-Returner! A dream!

Likely I’ve hardly entered the Stream but with one shriveled big toe… So much delusion to put off and so few hours of consciousness before me… Again, a barbed pitchfork singeing the eye… loosed from flaming bow…

Mara, you gloriously cruel bastard! Withdraw your haggard daughters and remove your plague! You are powerless! Powerless! Your daughters are ugly and rotten; they are assembled and revolting. They stink like the putrefying meat from which they are cobbled! They’re dribbling from every orifice, thick pus, rancid milky fluids – They’re wrinkled and sprouting out patches of thick black fur sagging with dark moles and stretching elastic tattoos... Thinning hair grey and white, eroded cartilage, slipped vertebrae and plastic knee replacements… On walkers they hobble, in wheelchairs they wail high on Darvocet, delusional with dementia… Incontinent urine runs through their lacey silk panties while green shit leaks from cellulite cheeks. Their mouths full of black gums, rotting teeth and nagging, constant rancid nagging, demands of duty and mortification... All these visions of form are fleeting! One renegade sperm and a lifetime of attachment ensues... From her curdled ass straight to my mouth!

 My gods, my gods, not unlike the revolting hirsute nature of my own bacteria-riddled flesh… These are egoistical joys, ephemeral and self-serving… The most divine portraits and sculptures age even with their subjects frozen in their prime. I am not frozen, nor will I ever be, so I cannot maintain the brief roving lust for beauty… To be held like that doll... Cherished, nursed, protected by those slender arms and narrow chest. Huddled against breast warm and heaving – Smell of clean powders... Gripped like the clammy hand of a boy, cheeks flushed in a shy grin. Doesn’t want his friends to see them together, but can’t bear to let her run away... Pressed lips to my forehead with the gentle affection she shows her sleeping kitten – This honest sedentary love…

Her buoyant form, perfectly sacred – The inwardly curving small of back soft and precious – Her arm that hides a cheek’s milky blush – Slight shoulders of easy confidence – Thinly defined legs smooth and toned, down to moisturized feet and petite toes arrayed in green polish and summer sandals – Her unpainted countenance enchants me so I stare and then blush, myself nearly caught – Her defined feminine jaw, her chin, its dimple, its red line of contemplation – Large dark eyes framed by auburn hair thick and radiant – Her elfin ear, revealed by a sweep of her fingers, then gone...

When I take her hand in mine, hallelujah! Spring’s thaw at last! Sprouts of tender green – A buzzing bee takes flight – Thick taste of nectar… The fields reclaimed! – Tiny fingers swaddled in broken palm. Her fine downy arm pressed to my own, shoulder against shoulder – The weight of our bodies neutralized. Our footsteps in rhythm, triplets, with a small skip between repetitions. Giggling at the sparks cascading through our stomachs, once joined at the navel... Creatures of the gods are we tonight…

 But what magic do these gods possess? This magic is barren… This magic is equal parts Romance and Carnal Desire. Subtract Carnal Desire and leave Romance – you’re left with a weak watered down ideal of vague destiny like thin decaf coffee film on the roof of your mouth… Leave Lust and take away Romance –  at least the hot tingle from Svadisthana still functions wildly, burning, spinning, sending us running in inert circles bathed in cold sweat, craving the oozing pheromones of suitable mates, jacking-off in white shower stalls to memories of high shorts creeping up firm alabaster thighs, tiny glimpses of pink cotton exposed and magnified a thousand lurid times... This at least feels a little like magic because it outruns Reason. Reason annihilates Romance like a candle vanquishing the darkness of a small room. The word magic is derived from the Sanskrit maya, meaning illusion. Poof… Romance is Hollywood’s drug of choice. Romance is societal pressure to feel attractive and prove your desirability and worth. Romance is an archetypal myth.  Reason disposes of the mirage. Reason will not, however, brush even a single hair from Lust’s glistening brow…

Fingers embalmed together keep the spark of that romantic enchantment alive. Analysis douses the spark, suffocating it in a brilliant snuff of musty smoke…

 A booming voice resounds through my ears… Male? Female? I can’t discern anything anymore. Can anyone else hear it? What’s it matter if they could? It only matters to me right now. No one else… “At the bottom is the flesh on flesh act of sex which is, at best, boring, functional, mundane and even a bit embarrassing in its messy vulnerability. But grafted above it is the artificial skin of eroticism, which could be just as easily grafted over any structural artifice – food, music, sports, religion – all of the naughty nurse, sexy school girl fascination has little to do with sex, but with our own fabrication of an edifice of pleasure from which to hang our molten sorrows and crippling fear of all that we can never fathom…”

[ageekyreader]

AU Tuesday - Unexpected Superheroes

Guess what - I broke through my writing block! Apparently the solution was to write silly fanfic for my writing-partner-in-crime @merigreenleaf This is a one shot AU of her series Unexpected Inspiration. I did do a little bit of editing, but I’m not going to agonize over this one. 

I know some of my writeblr friends will tag people when they put up new writing. I haven’t been active enough lately to make my own list of people, but there are a few of you I’ve talked to enough that I’m pretty confident you’ll be interested in being tagged. If you don’t want to be on my list, or if you want to be added to my tag list for future shenanigans, just let me know! No pressure. I promise I won’t be upset if you don’t want to be tagged and you don’t have to give me a reason.  @lynnafred, @princeofmagick, @elliot-orion, @the-gay-hufflepuff, @enasroterfaden

Unexpected Superheroes

Adair bustled around the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the treats he’d made for the night. It had been almost a year since they had ended up on Earth after a magical mishap that somehow led to traveling across dimensions. They had no clue what had actually gone wrong, and since they didn’t seem to have magic in this world, the were effectively stuck for the time being.

Everyone missed Concordia but at least they still had each other. Adair didn’t even want to think of what it would have been like if any one of his family had been left behind. That would be much worse than losing magic.

Their introduction to Earth had not gone especially smoothly, but they met some people who saved the day like real life superheroes. Nikki and Alejandro had gotten them out of a sticky situation and then stuck around. Which was good - a world without magic could be really confusing. Adair didn’t think he’d ever understand the US government, but he was starting to get the hang of all the day to day life things. They all were more or less.

Tonight was Halloween and they had all embraced the idea wholeheartedly. Costumes were second nature to all the former carnies, and even Adair had dressed up in one a time or two. It had been much easier when he could still weave illusions, but that was ok. He’d still come up with an idea that he thought the others would love.

One of the things their new friends had done was introduce them to the world of comics. Adair loved some of the art work and was thinking about trying to get a job as a comic book artist. It was a far cry from the maps that were his specialty back home, but that wasn’t going to happen here. He might as well adapt.

It had become a tradition that every week they had a movie night and Nikki and Alejandro had been showing them all the different superhero movies. There were a lot, and they hadn’t gotten through all of them yet, but they knew enough that everyone agreed that it was the perfect theme for the party.

The stove beeped and Adair pulled out a berry pie. He grinned when he saw that the silly face he’d made with the crust on top had come out perfectly. That was the last thing he needed to do other than his costume. Which he better get into. Everyone would be here soon.

Sol had insisted they should all work with their new Earth-friends to make their costumes and that way the five of them could surprise each other. Adair was pretty sure Sol was going to show up as Thor. It just seemed like a natural fit. He had no idea what the other’s were going to pick though.

It had taken Adair awhile to figure out his costume. He was also in charge of the costume for Willow, their cat, but that one had been easy. Well, deciding on a character had been easy. The actual costume was a bit more challenging because Willow was brown and Blythe wouldn’t let him dye the cat black. In the end he’d fashioned a kind of fitted hood that he could slip on over Willow that left her eyes and mouth free. It looked a little silly but paired with a collar that was designed to look like T’Challa’s claw necklace she made a decent Black Panther.

Adair took one more look in the mirror to check the hair pieces he had applied then swooped Willow up into his arms and hurried for the living room. Their guests would be here soon and he could hardly wait to see what everyone else was wearing.The party was both a way to have some fun after all the stress of adjusting and a way to say thank you to all the people who had helped them in recent months. He knew that Alejandro was going to be Spider-man, but that was because he had been Adair’s costume buddy. It had taken some planning to make sure they all had a place to get ready where the other’s wouldn’t see their transformation but Blythe had taken charge of organizing that and it had worked out pretty well.

There were two people in the living room when Adair walked in. He started laughing right away. Nikki was dressed as Harley Quinn, no surprise there, and Dray was in a long red leather coat and thigh high boots. “Ok, tell me the truth, did you pick the Scarlet Witch just as an excuse to buy the coat?”

Dray grinned back at him, “Actually it was the boots I found first, but yes, I will casually be cosplaying as the Scarlet Witch on a regular basis because I make her look fabulous.”

“Dray - you make everything you wear look fabulous.”

“Damn right I do.”

Blythe and Alejandro walked into the living room at the same time from opposite directions. Adair only had eyes for Blythe. He always thought she was pretty, and tonight was no exception. She was wearing a green tank top, asymmetrical green skirt, and had ivy coiling everywhere. She made an amazing Poison Ivy and he hurried over to give her a hug and tell her so.

“Thanks. You make a surprisingly good old man.”

Adair felt himself blush. After all this time and she could still make him blush with every little compliment she gave. He was hopeless. “Yeah, I figured Stan Lee had to make an appearance so… here I am.”

Alejandro came over and added, “You have no idea how many different ideas we went through before we settled on that. Problem #1 - so many superheroes can fly or like to jump from buildings. Adair just couldn’t make himself do it. I suggested he do Captain America and, I kid you not, he turned green and told me all he’d be able to think about was jumping out of planes without a parachute.”

Adair shrugged and gave a little grin. He was glad they’d had a hard time finding a superhero that he felt comfortable dressing up as. He liked that this way he was still an artist. It felt right. Well, other than the mustache itching.

Feeling a draft Adair turned to figure out where it was coming from. He couldn’t imagine that any of them had opened a window. At least not yet. It was too cold outside and there weren’t that many bodies in here yet.

He found the open window just in time to see a graceful figure in all black with a dramatic, full length, black cloak slip in from outside.

“I’m Batman.” The voice was deeper and more gravelly but still obviously Etri. Adair had no idea how he had opened that window from the outside, but if anyone could it would be Etri.

Adair hurried over to give the other love of his life a hug. Well, and to make sure the window got closed. Before he could say anything to Etri he heard Dray give a high pitched, “What?!”

Etri had gone for a dramatic entrance but Sol had managed to one up him. Adair had a feeling that Sol’s costume would be the talk of the night. It wasn’t every day you saw a six foot six man with broad shoulders wearing a Wonder Woman costume. Looking at him it occurred to Adair that, once again, Sol had managed to forgo wearing pants.

Not that Dray seemed to mind. After their initial shocked exclamation Dray had gotten a dreamy look on their face. Obviously they didn’t mind the way Sol’s legs looked in the skimpy outfit.

Adair found himself wishing for his illusion magic again just so he could make it look like Sol was wearing pants.

[blackholehuman]

A Light in the Snow

read it here on AO3.

Word Count: 10,525

Summary: They do this every year on their anniversary: a mini vacation, of sorts, in the clearing where everything should have ended, but instead began.

This year, time seems to stop. And their lives begin again.

*note: If you want to read this story with the proper italics, head on over to AO3. For some reason, Tumblr doesn’t keep them in when you copy and paste something, and comparing two 10.5K stories to each other... sorry, I just don’t have the time. 

Enjoy!

SIMON

When people tell you that they could feel something was off about a some sort of situation, they're lying. It's bullshit. Because Baz and I felt perfectly fine as we entered the forest.

Well, as fine as we could, returning to the place where everything changed.

We do this every year on our anniversary: camping out in the clearing where Baz started a fire then promptly put it back out as soon as I kissed him. I kiss him now, too, my lips practically tackling his cheek. He smiles like I'm stupid.

“Cut it out Snow,” he says, “you'll make me drop everything.” (I made him carry all the equipment while all I have are the pillows.) (I mean, come on, he does have super strength!)

“Stop complaining,” I retort, “I know you love it.”

He stoops down to kiss my forehead, forcefully enough to make me stumble. All of the gear is still perfectly balanced in his arms. It's those damn supernatural reflexes. “I do,” Baz agrees. “But two can play at that game.”

We reach the clearing just then. Baz sighs as he drops all of our stuff into the snow. Before I can protest, he points to himself and says, “Mage, remember?” I harrumph in response. There's nothing to do while Baz casts his spells, so I go on a walk, just to survey the area a bit and keep myself busy.

It's been four years since my magic’s been gone, but the holes have just started to close. I haven't felt anything yet, not that I really expected to. If anything I’ve gotten used to being Normal again, and as long as it doesn't bother Penny or Baz, I don't really have to think about it. And how Normal can I be, really, with a dragon’s tail and wings? (Penny was gracious enough to spell them away for me on this special night, but Baz will probably call them back. He likes the tail, especially; it tends to wrap around him whenever we- well.)

I can't deny, however, that things are starting to change. Penny is about to graduate from uni (as is Baz) and she's starting to seriously consider when she’ll be moving away to America. And where they'll go. That's something I try not to think about, because I'll miss her terribly when she does go. Even if I knew this was coming. Part of me wants to follow her there- we've never been apart, really, ever since we met- but that would have to be over Baz’s dead body (which is technically also his alive body, which is terrifying enough to stay. But also, I love him.) I know he's going to ask me to move in with him, and I know he’s looking for a new place to live. He wants to be near Watford, I think, but he’s very clandestine about his computer history.

I know he’s going to propose to me though, and I’m pretty sure he’s going to do it tonight. There’s no better time or place; our anniversary, in the place where everything began.

I woke up to him last month in the middle of the night singing Beyonce lyrics. I was so intrigued that I pretended to be asleep- and then the spell ended, and I felt Baz’s fingers bring my left hand up towards him. He kissed my knuckles and held his breath as he slipped something cold onto my ring finger. It fit perfectly, and even though I couldn’t see him, I knew he was smiling. Baz then replaced my hand and proceeded to “wake me up” with a series of long, hard kisses.

“What’s this all about?” I asked when I was properly awake and covered in hickeys, pretending I didn’t already know. My heart thumped loudly in my chest.

“You, Simon,” he panted, grabbing my waist and swinging a leg over to straddle me. “Always you.”

I stopped thinking right about then.

But I didn’t forget- it’s always in the back of my mind. And I can see it in his face everytime he smiles at me, because he thinks he’s being sneaky. After four years of loving him, his plotting has been more and more easy to figure out. I mean, Beyonce. Really.

My train of thought is abruptly derailed as I trip over a thick tree root I hadn’t seen under all the snow. I faceplant, barely getting my hands up fast enough to slow my fall. I grunt in frustration, turning around to face the culprit of my humiliation.

That’s when I see her. She’s at the base of the huge tree I just fell over, bundled up in a starry blue blanket.

I crawl over to get closer and verify that she isn’t just a doll, but Christ and Merlin , it's an actual human child. A little baby girl, left out in the cold like this.

I yell out in rage. I can feel my entire chest tightening as I pick her up, because she doesn’t move, and her face is almost the same color as the blanket. The green cap she’s wearing seems to be frozen to her head.

I yell again, this time for Baz; he finds me moments later. Fucking superspeed.

He turns white when he sees the bundle in my hands and kneels down next to me, snow be damned.

“She’s gone,” I choke out, not realizing I’d been crying.

“Not yet,” Baz says softly, holding his arms out. I let him take the girl away. I’m shaking uncontrollably. “She still has a heartbeat.” Baz lifts her up and presses his ear to the general area of the baby’s chest. “Though not for long,” he whispers, barely audible.

“ Why ?” I yell out. Why would anyone do this? To leave a baby to the elements like this. To die all alone. Who the fuck abandons a child in the first place-

I realize why this means so much to me. I realize I will do whatever it takes to make sure this baby girl lives to see tomorrow.

“We have to help her,” I say, all business, facing Baz.

“Simon, there aren’t any spells for this,” he says, and it’s so strained it tugs at my soul. “We could make her warm again but it would never be enough.”

We both fall into the most sullen silence to ever plague mankind. I can hear the seconds ticking by on some imaginary watch, counting down the moments the girl has to live. Our lack of action is making my twitch, and my mind is reeling, because what are we supposed to do with adead body anyway-

Wait.

Baz’s head snaps up as soon as I open my mouth to speak. “No,” he says, loudly and firmly.

“It’s the only way to save her!”

“You think turning her into a monster is going to save her?” he yells at me, standing up. He’s still holding the baby to his chest.

“You are no monster, Baz,” I tell him. “Not if you save her life.”

He growls at me. “We have no obligation to save her, Snow.”

The reason this is so ironic is because he’s clutching at her so tightly. I stand up and move into Baz’s space, staring hard into his eyes. There’s anger, sure, I expected this, but there's also fear. Like he doesn’t know the difference between good and evil. Luckily for the both of us, I have a pretty damn good idea of what’s good.

“So what,” I say quietly, letting my features go soft, “We’re just going to leave her here to die alone?”

It’s working. His jaw clenches. I continue, “Because I know what it feels like to be abandoned.”

He swallows.

“And I think you know what it’s like to be alone.”

I move closer to him and reach out a hand. He lowers the girl so that we’re both looking into her little face. “She’s beautiful,” I whisper, and it’s true, even if the only color she’s got is the blue frost on her face and the dark curls poking out of her little beanie.

I turn my head to look at Baz, who’s transfixed by the bundle in his hands- I can see him sizing her up with his fingers, clenching and unclenching around the tiny body.

He’s still looking at her when I say, “You feel it too, right? Like we’re looking into our future.”

Baz’s eyes slide towards mine, and they’re soft and relenting but he still says, “I can’t.”

“You have to,” I don’t know what we’ll do if he doesn’t. I’m so helpless in this situation, and all I can do is hope. “Please.”

A tear slides down his cheek as he turns his back to me. “Don’t watch,” he manages to say. He sits back down, and I scoot over to press my face into his back. My fists hold onto his jacket as if I, too, were clinging to life. I feel Baz’s back straighten (he must be sitting up), but nothing happens other than that. Everything is still and quiet and it seems that the trees are also holding their breath.

Then, she starts to cry.

BAZ

I break the the promise I’ve always kept for myself because of a dream. Something akin to falling in love with Simon Snow and hoping for something in return. Something that would make me think, only fools could hope like this.

But Simon Snow loves me, so maybe the dream isn’t such a folly: righting the wrongs that had been done unto us. Being good parents to children who had none, like Simon, and raising them to be brave and accepting, like my parents weren’t.

The baby’s skin is frigid and her blood is ice; it leaves her blessedly tasteless. The feel contrasts with the warmth that Simon is- somehow- radiating into my body. I pull back after about twenty seconds of not moving.

Nothing happens at first. She lays in my hands, unmoving and unresponsive to my touch.

Suddenly, she starts to cry.

Before I can even react, Simon throws his arms around my neck and kisses my ear from behind. I pull away smiling (even through tears), trying to hush the child back to sleep. She’s squirming a lot, but the blanket’s as stiff as a board from being exposed to the cold for too long. I pull out my want to cast, but I look up to see that Simon has already removed his sweatshirt. He surprises me when he thinks ahead like this; he’s not really as oblivious as I like to think he is.

“Give her here,” he says, extending his arms out to me with his jacket draped across both of his hands. I deftly unwrap the crusted blanket and hand her over. I’m horrified that she’s got nothing but a diaper on as clothes- it fills me with rage, actually. Like I’ll gladly kill whoever did this to her with my bare hands. I look up to see my own horror reflected as a deep sadness on Simon’s face. She’s still crying as I hand her over.

Once she’s all bundled inside the jacket, I pull out and cast, “Cold hands, warm heart,” a heating spell that only works if you’ve got genuine love inside your heart, and Simon and I are both overflowing with it. I can tell that the heat from the spell extends to more than just the girl in Simon’s arms; the snow melts in front of us, paving a way directly to the car.

We both jump in eagerly, still grinning like idiots. I look to my right, and Simon’s all buckled up and has braced his arms protectively around the (now sleeping) form of the baby girl.

We leave all of our stuff behind. It’s in the past, now. And we’ve just picked up our future.

SIMON

The tiny girl stops crying as soon as Baz puts the car in motion. He keeps turning to cast warming and healing spells until I have to tell him to relax, or he’ll be keeling over by the time we get to London.

“This isn't wasted magic, Snow,” he grunts, but in the end complies.

Even though she's stopped crying, she continues to fuss and move about in my jacket. Her small beanie is thawed out enough by now to take off, so I do: and almost instantly began worrying again.

“Baz?” I ask, holding her up, “this didn't happen to you, did it?”

I'm referencing, of course, that her hair on the left side is turning white.

“No,” he rolls his eyes and looks back at the road, “obviously.”

“Should we be worried?”

Which seems like a stupid question, because of course we should be worried. I don't know the first thing about taking care of babies, much less a vampire baby, although I guess Baz can help out in that respect. And he does have four younger siblings.

“I don't… I don't think so,” he says, glancing over at us. “Besides, it seems to have stopped. Looks kind of like Fiona’s hair, doesn't it?”

“This streak is a lot bigger than hers,” I point out. “...Maybe this is where all the cold went.”

“I doubt it,” Baz replies, but he doesn't sound so sure.

Right then, she opens her eyes clearly for the first time. “Merlin!” I yell, jumping a bit. Baz pulls over. “There's no need for that,” I tell him, but he just gives me a look that says well maybe you shouldn't have leapt out of your seat . He reaches for her and looks into her eyes as soon as he's got her in his hands.

“Crowley.”

One of her two blue eyes is turning silver. The left one, same side as her hair.

“What…?”

“I don't know,” Baz shakes his head and hands her back to me. “I don't know.”

He puts the car back in drive, and we’re speeding home. After an hour or so, the girl finally falls asleep, tucked between my elbow and chest.

“She’ll be asleep for a while,” Baz says, not looking at me.

“Were you?”

He nods. And still won't look at me.

“Baz,” I reach the arm I'm not using over to touch his shoulder. “We did the right thing. You did the right thing.”

“What will my father say?” He whispers.

I don't want to think about that right now. “I actually think we have more important things to worry about,” I say.

“Like the Humdrum?” He asks, a small smile playing on his lips.

My hand slides down his shoulder to his bicep. I squeeze. And smile.

“Like, what are we going to name her?”

BAZ

Its no surprise that Simon is shit at names.

We’ve been driving around London for two hours, shopping for baby clothes and other such things we’ll need, and he has yet to come up with anything approaching sensible. On top of that, I’m knackered from driving and exhausted from the energy it takes to not drain every living thing I put my eyes on. There’s blood at home, I know this, but there's more in the streets of London. I try to pull a Simon Snow and stop thinking altogether, but he keeps interrupting with terrible names.  

While we’re in Tesco’s getting nappies and onesies, he suggests Cherry.  

“You’re just hungry,” I counter. “And besides, we are not naming her after your favorite food.”

“Why not?” He says, smiling down at her. “It’s kind of cute.”

“It’s ridiculous.”

“Well at least I'm trying,” he pouts. “You aren’t even bothering to participate.”

At this point, we’ve moved on to foods. I’ve already used a spell to determine her age; a mere six months. She was born on the summer solstice. As I pick up each tiny jar, surveying them based off what will most likely return her to proper health, I say, “Clementine.”

I don’t have to turn around to know he’s cringing. He doesn’t have to see my face to know I’m smirking, either. Snow’s not the biggest fan of citrus fruits.

“Not everything is Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind ,” he groans. That’s another thing he doesn’t like: thought provoking cinema.

After checking off all the essentials off our list (including a crib, some onesies, nappies, a whole month’s worth of baby food and a starry baby mobile that Simon couldn’t resist) we move on to clothes, but I’ll be damned if we don’t get clothes fit for princess Charlotte. I just- I want to spoil her. She deserves to have the best, after the state we found her in. So I take us to a high-end boutique.

“She’ll grow out of this stuff in a few months,” Simon complains, “And it's all so expensive. Why don’t we go back to Tesco’s?”

“One, there were too many people there, and it was driving me mad,” I say, and pretend not to notice that he winces, “And two, I’m paying, and I’ll do whatever I like with my money, thank you.”

“Fine. What about Oak? Like the tree we found her by.”

“No.”

“Blue?

“Gods no.” I wonder if he says it because I’m holding up a navy button up coat that looks soft and warm and is expensive as fuck. I decide we need it almost immediately.

As I’m folding it over my arm, Simon asks, “Natasha?”

I still. I can feel his eyes on me. I turn around and go back to find some cashmere jumpers. Snow follows, tripping on the carpet because he’s not paying attention.

He invades my personal space as soon as we stop, standing as close to me as he can while holding the sleeping child. He smells like cinnamon, and she smells like the forest. I look away, swallowing.

“My mother hated vampires,” I say to the cashmere sweaters. Simon shifts behind me, hoisting her up to rest her head on his shoulder and reaches for me with his free hand. I want to move away, but I never could from him. I feel his fingers intertwining with mine, and he tugs me closer so that it’s impossible not to look at him.

He takes my breath away, even now. The baby he’s holding doesn’t help.

Snow squeezes my hand. “She came back for you,” he whispers. I look down. The image is so intense. Like staring directly into the sun, even now. The light of my very own universe.

He takes advantage of my reduced height to kiss me on the temple, right where my mother would have had I been there that night. Simon does this sometimes, when I miss her. The first time he did I went out to buy an engagement ring the very same day.

That was in August, three years ago. The whole ordeal was quite exciting, if a bit presumptuous, but at least I recognized it. Simon and and I couldn’t really get married at nineteen, no matter what some of my fifth-year fantasies said. I was going to propose tonight, but we were rudely interrupted by our future, to quote Simon.

I look back up. “Maybe as a middle name?”

Snow grins at me, and if he’s the sun, the baby he’s holding has just become all of my stars.

SIMON

It’s dinner by the time we get back to my flat, but Penny isn’t home, so Baz decides to teach me how to change a nappy on the floor next to the couch. I’m not really paying attention; I’m still trying to think of names, because so far, Baz hasn’t liked any of mine and his suggestions have only been to tease me.

For example, when I suggested Penny and he responded with, “I rather like Agatha.”

“Don’t ever use those words in that order again,” I warned him.

I’m also not paying attention because he’s being so gentle, like this baby is made of glass. It’s the same way he handles me when we’re being soft with each other, and I instantly recognize it as love.

“What about Snow?”

“That’s got to be the worst one yet.”

“Hey now, my name’s Snow,” I argue.

“Yes, and I’m trying to change that too, aren’t I?” he says, finishing with the nappy. Then looks up, horrified. “Wait, that wasn’t-”

“Oh yes it was,” I say, practically tackling him to the ground.

“Be careful,” he says, trying to scoot out from underneath me, “the baby.”

“Our daughter,” I correct him. He stops trying to escape.

“Our daughter?” Baz says it like he’s trying out a new spell. It sounds so lovely on his lips that I kiss him.

“Yes,” I say, when I remember I have to breathe every now and again.

“Wait, yes to our daughter or yes to-”

“Yes,” I repeat, pushing him down again, this time fully straddling his hips. “Yes.” I kiss his neck.

“Crowley, Simon,” he’s breathless, and aroused, and I’m pretty sure he’s also holding back tears. “Not near the baby.”

“She’s asleep,” I argue.

“Then let’s get her to bed.”

“I’m sick of her not having a name,” I say, rolling off of him and careful not to wake her.

We lay there in silence for a moment, Baz stroking the back of my hand with his thumb with his head turned towards the girl. He intertwines his index finger so that she’s holding it in her little fist.

“What about Neiva?” he asks. “It’s the feminine form of snow in Spanish.”

“Neiva,” I repeat, trying it out.

“Neiva Natasha.”

“Pitch.”

“Yes,” Baz moves his head to smile at me instead.

PENNY

I spent the night at my parent’s house last night because it’s almost Christmas and Simon and Baz were out doing their anniversary camping. Weirdly enough, the lack of their annoying flirting made me feel anxious and lonely, so I ended up Skyping Micah for hours, talking about our future.

I’m moving to America soon. Everyone knows it. I’m worried for Simon, who gets sad every time I bring up Micah, as if he’s going to lose me to him. But he’s my best friend, and I’m not going to forget that just because I’m moving across the pond. I’m grateful that he’s dating someone rational like Baz to remind him of that every so often.

He’ll get over it eventually. I happen to know Baz was going to propose to him last night; it’s like all of our futures are happening at once. And I also have a strong feeling they’re going to want to have a family of their own even if it means they have to adopt and Baz has to stop being afraid of himself. Simon would love to adopt, I’m sure of it, and Baz would want his kids to be brave.

I don’t expect them to be home yet, but as I’m opening the door, I hear voices. I wonder if their camping trip didn’t go well. What if they fought? Would Baz still have proposed? Merlin and Morgana- what if Simon said no?

I definitely don’t expect to walk into the dining room and see a baby in a high chair, smooshing mushed-up orange food into Simon’s face while Baz laughs and takes photos.

I’m pretty sure my jaw drops to the floor the same time my bag does. Both Simon and Baz freeze, looking at me guiltily. The baby doesn’t seem to notice and procedes to reach for Baz, hands covered in goo.

Baz clears his throat. “If you’ll excuse me Bunce,” he says, picking up the girl and bringing her round to the kitchen sink. As he helps her wash her hands, I turn my look of surprise towards Simon, too shocked to demand an explanation. He shrugs and gives me a sheepish grin.

“Hi Penny,” he greets, then stands up to take the girl back from Baz. “This is Neiva Natasha.”

“Our daughter,” Baz adds, and there's a bit of pride in his voice.

I walk towards Simon tentatively. The baby- Neiva- reaches up for me. I let one of her hands curl around my index finger. She gurgles, an her eyes get smaller when she smiles. I can’t help but smile back. Neiva’s beautiful- she’s got heterochromia, one silver eye and one blue, a shock of curly black hair that’s been half replaced by a strange white streak. The only weird thing is how cold her skin is.

“Is it chilly in here?” I ask, “Or is it just her?”

“It’s just Neiva,” Simon responds, then looks towards Baz, who is pointedly looking out the window with his and folded over his chest like he’s hugging himself.

“Well, her and Baz,” Simon amends.

I jerk my hand away, immediately understanding what he means. Neiva starts to cry. Simon begins to try and hush her, bouncing her up and down in his arms. “Penny,” he hisses.

“You’ve Turned her!” I yell, but I don’t know at who.

“I told you she wouldn’t take it well,” Baz mutters.

BAZ

“How could you?” she demands, her voice at a yell. “Baz, how could you? After you promised Simon and I and yourself you would never bite a living human being!”

I’m still very much not looking at her. I can tell she’s near me, probably gesturing wildly, angrily.

I want to tell her that I didn’t know how I could. That I woke up screaming from a dream where I sucked her dry. And how I wonder that if our daughter is a vampire, and we turn out to be immortal, we’ll have to bury Simon together; I would never be able to handle it. That I didn’t want to lose Simon over a decision where our moralities diverged completely. That I thought it was my only chance at a family.

“You monster!” she screams.

I don’t know what I expected. Bunce tolerates me because she’s a decent person, but how could I forget that spreading this… this disease is strictly against the rules? And worse; this is a child we’re talking about, a picture of innocence. What could be worse than altering a child magically before they even have the ability to choose? That’s the same way Simon lived until recently: born with infinite magic no one could have any hope of controlling.  What if all I’ve done is given Neiva the same burden I’ve had to carry around since I was four? That’s not saving her life, that’s ensuring she’ll live in pain.

“Reign it in Penny,” Simon yells, jumping between us. No- he didn’t jump. He fucking flew . Those dragon wings of his are actually working, and one of them moves to protect his torso, where Neiva is still in his arms, crying. “She was dead when we found her. He’s kept his promise.” He backs up near to me, and I can feel the tail curling around my arm possessively.

I allow myself to peak at Penelope. She seems to relax, but her features are twisted in confusion. “Found her…?”

“She was abandoned in the snow where we were camping,” I whisper, finally looking into her eyes. “She almost didn’t have a heartbeat.”

Bunce’s eyes soften. “Neiva,” she whispers. And looks right back at me, full of remorse. “Spanish for snow.”

“Besides, it was me who convinced him to do it,” Simon adds. “We couldn’t just leave her, Penny. Can you imagine?”

“I get it,” she says, and blushes. Maybe she’s ashamed. “Gods, Baz, I’m so sorry-”

I stop her with a hand. I’ve already forgiven her. I can’t blame Penny for attempting rational morality.  “It’s alright, Penelope. I understand. I guess it was good practice for whatever my parents will think…”

Her eyes go wide. “I didn’t even consider that.”

I turn to Simon, opening my arms to Neiva who is still crying. She settles down as soon as her head hits my shoulder. His tail unwinds, but he doesn’t look at all appeased by Penny’s apology.

“I can’t believe,” Penny starts again, a small smile playing on her lips, “that I left you two alone for less than twenty four hours, and you brought home a baby.”

I snort, heading for the couch. A quick glance over my shoulder shows me that Snow is still staring daggers at the back of Penny’s head, even though she doesn’t notice as she follows to sit beside me on the couch.

“Can I… hold her?” she asks tentatively.

I don’t even hesitate to bring Neiva down from my shoulder, but Simon is quick to intercept.

“Like hell,” he growls at Penny.

I frown. “Snow, what-”

“You don’t get to come in here,” he says, raising his voice, “and insult my family, calling my fiance a fucking monster-”

“Fiance?”

“Implying that my daughter,” he continues, speaking louder and completely ignoring Penny’s question, “Our daughter is some kind freak of nature. What the actual fuck, Penny! If we didn’t contractually own this place together, I would tell you to Get out! ”

Both Penny and I are speechless. She’s tense beside me, and there are tears welling up in her eyes. And there’s something about the way Simon said it, like there was magic attached, but not really going anywhere…

“And to think, we were going to ask you to be her godmother,” he sneers, and now his wings completely envelop his body. He turns to me. “Baz, we’re leaving.”

My frown deepens. “Simon…”

“Now,” he growls, and I don’t want to argue with him. Something about the sudden change of smell in the room makes me feel incredibly odd. It’s not the burning green that used to be accompanied with his presence, but more like the smell after the rain. Like the wind is picking it up and spreading it everywhere- I can almost feel it, I think.

He doesn’t move from where he’s standing, but Penny gets up to actually help me pack. We’re just finishing shrinking Neiva’s crib when she turns to me, still crying, and apologizes again.

“You know I didn’t mean- I could never mean-that, that-”

“Pen, relax,” I put my hand on her shoulder. “I’ve already forgiven you. Simon’s just upset, yeah? We have to give him time to cool off.”

“Yeah.” Another sad smile; she’s full of them today. “Just like old times.”

“Well,” I admonish, turning my head a bit as I pack the shrunken furniture and folded clothes into a bag, “Not exactly.”

I can hear her smirk. “True,” she says, and her tone is playfully light, “You never would have proposed to him back then.”

I roll my eyes and zip up the bag. I turn around and place it on my lap. Penny’s sitting on Simon’s bed, smiling down at me. I bury my face into the bag, hugging it close, and Penny laughs at me some more.

“Was it romantic?”

“It was an accident,” I correct. “I had everything planned, but I’d been thinking about it so much it just sort of… slipped out.”

“That wouldn’t be the first time,” she laughs again.

I look up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh Basilton,” she says, wiping a tear away from her eye, “You told me all about how you were going to marry him about three years ago on New Year’s. You were very drunk, you see- you’ve got this weakness for red wine, I swear- and Simon was already passed out on your lap.” She grins wide. “You carried him to bed and showed me the ring. You were so proud.”

“Crowley,” I curse. “I don’t remember that at all.”

“No, I didn’t think you would,” she muses. “It wasn’t the most secretive of demonstrations, either. You were being quite loud.”

“Thank Merlin he wasn’t awake,” is all I can say. “The surprise would have been completely ruined. And I’ll have you know I sized that ring without him knowing about it.”

“ Baz ,” she teases, exasperated, “You’re not very good at sneaking around.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

Penny throws her head back and laughs. “You woke him up that night, he told me! I mean, Single Ladies, Baz? Really?”

“Oh gods,” I groan, hiding my blush once again in the backpack.

SIMON

Fiona’s in town this week, so there’s no chance that we can go back to her flat with a vampire baby in tow. God knows Penny ruined my entire mood on telling anyone about our new family.

Baz seems to be totally okay with the whole thing- which, really, I should be happy about. The fact that he’s finally come to terms with who he is- well, it’s pretty fucking monumental, considering the reason we’re together is because he tried to kill himself over it years ago. He’s okay with being called a monster, he’s accepted Penny’s apology, but I can’t get over it. She wasn’t just insulting him, she was insulting my family. I’m so angry I almost feel magic again;  however, instead of pouring out of me in a thick heat like it used to, it feels more like there’s a heavy wind deep inside my chest, pushing rain clouds to the surface.

There’s no way it’s actually magic, of course.  Just as Baz has come to terms with his vampirism, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’ll be as Normal as they come (plus a few magickal appendages.)

Anyway, Baz doesn’t try to argue with me about leaving, thank fuck. I don’t want to start an argument in front of Neiva.

Baz spells my wings invisible with a quick, “ These aren’t the droids you’re looking for ” and  checks us into a ritzy hotel despite my protests (“If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right, Snow.”)

He sets up the crib and unpacks everything else for us when we get in- I haven’t let go of Neiva since we left the flat. Once he’s finished, I put her down to sleep tenderly. Baz casts a few silencing spells, probably anticipating some sort of drawn out argument.

I can feel the soft press of Baz’s hand on my back. God, I love him so much when he’s tender like this- even when all I can feel is aggression.

“She’s so beautiful,” I say furiously, “How could anyone call her a monster?”

I turn to Baz and lift both of my hands to his face. “The same can be said of you,” I whisper, and kiss him.

“Simon,” Baz manages, “I am not beautiful.”

“Shut the fuck up,” I snap, and it comes out a lot more harsh than I mean it to, so I shove him towards the bed until it hits his legs and he’s forced to sit on the edge.

As I come closer, he scoots back, until he’s lying completely flat and I’m crawling over him, like a predator and his prey.  One of his hands is laying palm up near his head, and I pin it down with my own, interlocking our fingers.

Baz looks up at me, defiant, honest, and above all, fucking beautiful. I lean down so that our noses touch and he’s forced to look in my eyes.

“No one talks shit about my family.”

I kiss him so hard our teeth clash. When I lift up again, Baz grabs his wand out of his jeans pocket and un-spells my wings and tail, then sets the wand aside on the nightstand.

“No one.” I repeat, undoing his shirt buttons and trousers through all sorts of kisses. Once those are both off, my tail loops beginning at his ankle and ending at his upper thigh.

I’m starting to undress myself when my tail squeezes his leg and brings it to wrap around my waist. He moans filthily as his hips buck up in response. Shucking my shirt and jeans across the room, I lean forward over him to whisper, “You are mine.”

“Yes,” he’s nodding. “Yours.”

I kiss him again. “You are not a monster, Baz. You’re mine.”

He moans, arching into me. “Your tail,” he pants. It’s squeezing at his thigh again, pulling him even closer to me, and we don’t even have all of our clothes off yet.  “Aleister Crowley, Simon. The things you do to me.”

Moving to his ears, I tell him that he’s perfect.

As I’m ravaging his neck, Baz asks, “You don’t think I’m… bad?”

I growl into his throat, then nibble at it. “No.” My voice is hoarse. “Never. You’re just Baz.”

His fingers slip through my hair, pulling my mouth back to his own. “As long as you say so, Simon,” another kiss, “as long as you- and Neiva, now, believe it, nothing else really matters. No one can ruin this for me.”

~~~~~

It’s easy to make up with Penny because she’s so damn sincere. Also because she’s been my best friend for ages, and I can’t just ditch her for one mistake. I let out all my anger that night, and Baz helped so much, just… moving with me. Speaking to me in a soothing voice.

Penny’s thrilled to be Neiva’s godmother, and when I watched how loving she was, I realized I really could trust her with my daughter’s precious life.

But now, we have to face the real challenge. Baz’s family.

We were invited to their home in Oxford for Christmas Eve, and we had already accepted their invitation, so we kind of just had to pack our things and go along with it.

Of course we’re both nervous. Baz actually looks as if he might be sick, and Baz never gets sick. He even let me drive while he rode in the back with Neiva; singing her to sleep. It was lovely, and there was a point where he had to yell at me to stop watching them in the mirror and watch the road instead.

When we get there, he takes his time getting out of the car, carefully folding Neiva’s blanket and throwing it over his shoulder. Still fucking posh as ever. The car seat comes out without much fuss this time, thank God, I nearly chucked the thing in the Thames last time I tried to figure it out, and we make our way to the door.

I glance at Baz, who’s face is a carefully stony mask. I hate it when he does this, even though I know it’s necessary when he has to deal with his dad.

“Baz,” I lean into him without taking my eyes off the door, “What are we going to say?”

His eyes slide towards me, and then he startles at something over my shoulder. Placing the car seat on the front step, he slides his wand out of his sleeve and taps on my wings.

“These aren’t the droids you’re looking for,” he says, then repeats when he taps on my tail.

I roll my eyes. Stupid formalities. “Baz .”

A smile is pulling at the corners of his mouth when he picks up Neiva’s car seat once more. “I’ll guess we’ll just have to wing it.”

I groan, but before I’m able to tell Baz that just because he’s a dad know doesn’t mean he can go around making terrible puns, the door swings open. Thankfully, it’s just Mordelia, who at twelve is just as snarky as her older brother was at that age. I love her to death, but everytime I’m here there’s always alarm bells going off in my mind, saying: oh shit, there’s two of them.

She stands there in shock, trying to take in the vision before her: a gurgling child in a car seat being carried by Baz, and my left hand clenched into a fist, accidentally showing off a silver band studded in the middle with a single diamond.

Mordelia blinks a couple times before raising an eyebrow at Baz. “Does this make me an auntie?” she smirks.

“Only if you invite us in,” Baz says pointedly.

She gets it right away, I can practically see it cross her face, but she makes no comment. “Of course. All three of you are welcome here anytime.” Mordelia holds the door open wider, then steps aside.

As soon as we’re in, I close the door and Mordelia takes off running. “Mum!” I hear her shout down the hall. “Baz and Simon are here! They’ve brought a baby!”

Baz gazes after her, seemingly rooted to the spot. I kneel down and unbuckle Neiva. “Are you ready?” I ask him, standing up and resting Neva on my hip between us.

He turns his face towards me and I’ve never seen him with such an unfiltered look of fear before, so it’s painfully obvious how not ready he is.

“Come on.”

The hall is lit with gorgeous yellow lights, floating by magic right alongside bright red poinsettias and holly branches. “Those aren’t for you,” I say, when Neiva tries to lunge out of my arms after them. To reconcile, she twists and lunges for Baz’s hair instead, landing a little fist in his long black hair (which he at least didn’t slick back, as per my request.)

That’s how we come upon Baz’s family in the sitting room: Neiva and Baz both laughing as her hands get more and more tangled in his hair. I’m smiling and holding her back, because I love his hair and I wouldn’t want her to get more carried away.

The room goes eerily silent.

Baz undoes Neiva’s hands from his hair and clears his throat. “We’ve adopted,” he adresses Daphne and Malcolm, who are sitting on a white couch across the room with glasses of wine paused halfway to their mouths. Both wearing the same frown of confusion.

“And we’re engaged,” I say, holding up my free hand, showing off the ring. I’m rather fond of it, actually.

That startles the room back to motion- Fiona, who I hadn’t even seen, sitting in a corner yells, “Finally! Basilton, you’ve had that ring for ages!”

Before I have time to think about that, Malcolm’s glass slips from his hand and spills all over the pristine couch.

“I’ll get it!” Mordelia yells excitedly, pulling out her wand from a pocket in her dress.

Daphne deters her by sending her to the room, announcing that it’s time for the grown ups to talk. Fiona’s blocking me from their expressions, however, trying to get a good look at Neiva. “She’s got wicked hair,” she grins, winking at me and gesturing at her own silver streak. “And, by Morgana- she’s got both of your eyes!” She laughs a little and places her hand on Baz’s shoulder. “She’s adorable, kid. Really.”

“Thank you,” Baz whispers, and it’s obvious he didn’t expect this reaction from her. My eyes begin to burn a little bit. Maybe this won’t be that bad.

“Can I hold her?”

It’s Malcolm who says it, standing up from his seat which has been spelled clean by Daphne. I glance quickly at Baz, whose eyebrows are just beginning to knit together in a confused look.

He pulls his wand out, making me frown. “Let me hold her.”

And it’s the way he says it, like he’s entitled to it, that makes me take a step back. Baz looks at him curiously.

“Father, what’s wrong?”

Malcolm grabs Baz by his shirtsleeve and lights the tip of his wand on fire. “Mr Snow,” Baz tries to pull away but Malcolm just brings the fire closer. “Let me hold her.”

I think I know what he’s trying to do, even if his face is a mask of controlled features. It’s written all over the fear in Baz’s face, and the shock in Daphne’s eyes.

How do I choose? Between the two loves of my life. My only real family. They’re both one and the same: my future, the other halves of my heart. I look at Baz, who seems like he’s already accepted his fate. He keeps looking at me and then towards the doors leading to the patio- he wants me to take Neiva and run.

I feel like I’m overheating… No. I feel like the wind is back in my chest, pushing the rain outwards, outwards, until it bursts forth into the room with such force I can almost smell it.

Malcolm can’t take either of them, he can’t.

I feel a slight increase in pressure from my spine, and a coinciding sizzle tells me that the spell on my wings and tail have just ended. Malcolm looks a bit frightened, anyone would, staring at a half human half dragon hybrid whose family was just threatened.

“Put it out,” I growl, nodding at the flame. One of my wings comes round my shoulder and extends the length of my arm, the one I’m holding Neiva in. The other wing stretches out completely, meaning to look as menacing as possible.

“Give me the girl!”

BAZ

I can’t fucking believe it. All this time, and my dad still thinks I’m a walking plague. (I mean, I guess I am, but I was just starting to come to terms with it. Fuck it all.) And now he’s threatening Simon, making him choose between me and Neiva.

It isn’t fair. But I’m clinging to the hope that he’ll do the right thing and pick Neiva. I’m pleading for it silently- and I think he knows, too- because I don’t dare speak. I can feel my father’s fire through my clothes. It’s close.

Right as I’m thinking I really am doomed this time, the spell on Simon’s wings and ended. Which- that shouldn’t happen. No one said anything to end it, and anyway, only Penny and I know how. But they’re there now, out in the open, moving to protect our little girl.

And then, something else happens.

Something I haven’t seen in four years, and never thought I’d see again.

The Sword of Mages appears in Simon’s hand at my father’s- no, fuck that, fuck him- Malcolm’s latest demand, and he didn’t even say anything to summon it.

Everyone in the room notices. It’s hard not too; this looks like the final fight was supposed to look like. Except for the fact that Simon and I are engaged and he’s holding our daughter.

And there’s that smell too, like the pavement after it’s just rained, exactly the same as when he argued with Penny.

Malcolm’s wand dips dramatically and that’s all I need to punch him in the face as hard as I can. I feel a bit guilty, because as he hits the floor I realize that I put all my vampire strength into it, but then I’m reminded that he just tried to kill me and my daughter, so I don’t feel bad at all. Actually, it felt good.

I turn back to Simon who’s staring at the sword in his hand like he’s never seen it before. I watch as his tail and wings retract into his back, seemingly of their own accord.

Walking towards him, I say, “Alright, Simon?”

I startled him. He looks up at me stammering, and jumps when his phone rings. The blade disappears into his hip, and I take Neiva into my arms.

“Penny?” Simon answers. “What’s going on?” he asks, as if she were here with us right now.

My hearing’s good enough to where I can listen in on the conversation while I watch Daphne kneel on the floor, attempting to heal Malcolm’s bloodied and probably crushed face. I hope it hurts.

“Simon, the magic’s back in Kensington and Hounslow! Dad’s just told me!”

“Penny, that’s fantastic,” he says, monotone and exhausted. “Let me know if there’s any other news. I’m- I’m busy right now.”

He hangs up without waiting for a reply. I can imagine that Bunce will be furious at him for this later.

He looks at me. “Fancy a road trip to Hampshire?”

I clutch at Neiva. “Sure,” I glance back to see my dad sitting up with Daphne’s assistance. “Anywhere but here. Can you… can you take Neiva?”

He nods, but asks, “What are you…?”

“Something I should have done years ago.”

I walk over and kneel next to Daphne, looking down at Malcolm. His face is misshapen (he’ll probably have to go see Dr. Wellbelove) and is in obvious pain, but he still manages to sneer at me. “What would your mother think, Basilton?” he spits, all rage. “She wouldn’t have let you live! And now you’ve gone and Turned an innocent? You disgust me. I should’ve done what your mother would have wanted me to do.”

“Malcolm!” Daphne gasps. Behind me, Simon growls.

“It’s alright,” I say. Because it really is, now. I think.

He looks like he might continue with something even more nasty, but I stop him by saying, “She came back for me, you know.”

Whatever hateful pile of shit was just about to exit his mouth dies in his throat. I watch him swallow it. “What?”

“When the Veil lifted. Mother came back for me. To talk with me.”

“Liar,” he says through clenched teeth, “‘You were in a coffin.”

I won’t wince. “She found Simon instead, obviously,” I continue, raising my voice. “She wanted me to find Nicodemus, then to find her killer. Which we did,” Malcolm looks horrified, both at the mention of Nicodemus and my mother’s killer. I had forgotten that everyone continued assuming it was the Humdrum. “It was the Mage, he really was terrible all that time. But when she was there, she kissed Simon’s forehead, telling him it was for me.”

Malcolm is silent.

“You didn’t hear her voice,” Simon chimes in from behind me. “She misses him so much. She kept shouting, ‘my son, my only son,’ only she was fading, so it came out as a whisper.” He shudders. “It was… very powerful.”

I stand up and make a show of dusting off my clothes. Malcolm seems to have been rendered speechless of my confession. I want him to mull it over for the rest of his life if that’s how long it takes him to realize she only would have come back to me if she loved me. If she still loved me, regardless of who, or what, I was and still am and will always be. It sure as fuck took me long enough.

I drive us to Hampshire. I think Simon is still in shock from the small amount of magic he just used, accidentally. Leave it to Snow to accidentally use magic, first of all, and second of all, I really hope he’ll be able to call back his dragon appendages sometimes. I rather liked them.

He’s staring directly out the window when he calls my name, questioning.

“Yes love?”

“If he tries that again, I’m going to kill him.”

I glance into the rearview mirror. There's fire in his eyes- no, something beyond fire, magic- and I can feel it even though he’s still looking out the windows as the trees fly past us.

He’s serious. I don’t have to question it.

“Okay,” I say, and Simon nods. He and Neiva both sleep the entire way to Hampshire.

When we get there, it’s all too obvious it’s still a dead spot. I wince as soon as we hit the outer perimeter, both Neiva and Simon wake up, and Neiva starts to cry. He tries to shush her, but she won’t be consoled. Not even the motion of the car is helping this time.

Once we’re properly in the driveway of the house, I unbuckle Neiva from her car seat as Simon steps out and stares at the ground with a contemplating frown on his face. Neiva stops screaming once she’s in my arms, but it’s obvious she can feel the dead spot too; she’s squirming around so much I’m almost afraid I’ll drop her.

I won’t drop her. Not ever. Not on my life.

“Simon,” I say, squinting at him, “What do you need?”

“To be… centered,” he answers, but I don’t think we’re in the same plane of existence. He looks like he’s gone into some sort of transcendental state.

“There’s a stone circle here, isn’t there? Out in the grounds behind your home.”

How could he have possibly known that, “Y-yes,” I tell him.

He nods like he knew it all along, and begins to walk towards the gate that will lead him out back. I don’t ask questions, I just follow.

The hollow feeling worsens the closer we get to the stone circle (Snow somehow leading the way, as if he were the one who lived here for eighteen years) and then I feel a tug, a sharp pull as I feel everything inside of me give way. It’s like when the Humdrum pushed his nothing into me all those years ago. “Simon,” I choke out, pitching forward. Neiva starts crying again. “We can’t go any further. There’s just- nothing here, so much nothing.” I’m panicking, I know it. But I can feel my fangs drop, and that same desire for Simon’s blood and for magic he doesn’t have returns.

He turns around with a worried look. “We’re not far from where we need to be,” he says, pleading.

I look at him dead in the eye. I know I must look frightening, with dark pupils attempting to take over every corner of my eyes. But I feel so fucking weak, too, and when I take another step forward I fall.

Simon, ever the hero, catches us both. He pulls Neiva close to him while I crawl away.

“You cannot get that close to me when I am like this,” I growl, not looking at him. I hope my tone of voice conveys that it is not up for debate.

I feel something leathery wind it’s way up my bicep- it’s Simon’s tail, helping me up. He’s already standing, holding Neiva who is screaming in his arms. “It’s not that far from here,” he’s pleading at me with his eyes, which works when I’m human, but I can barely feel it now. “Please.” I don’t know if it’s emotion or if it’s magic. I follow him at distance.

When we’ve finally arrived, it’s not soon enough. I immediately collapse in the center, too tired to go on. The emptiness seems to have taken it’s toll on Simon and Neiva as well; she’s even stopped crying out of exhaustion. He joins me in the grass, and we lay on our backs, one of our fingers each being clutched tightly by Neiva’s small hands.

I’m panting with the effort it takes not to suck Simon Snow dry.

He’s laying on his back, facing up, with stars in his eyes.

The wind picks up, rustling the trees overhead, and Simon closes his eyes- and that’s when I feel it.

It’s a cool, calming mist, spreading all around the stone circle, apparently coming from Simon’s chest. I feel it expand, and then I feel it inme- I could cast a sonnet. I could cast Twinkle twinkle little star . Like a completed circuit, again at all at once, my magic returns, flowing through my body and down my arms. I can feel it seeping into Neiva, but she’s not crying, she’s gurgling, and a glance at Snow tells me everything. It’s happening on his end, too.

It starts to rain. And just like that, the magic comes back to Hampshire.

SIMON

I can’t bring myself to move from the circle. I do, however, sit up, and pull Neiva into my lap. She grabs at my fingers and grips them tight, giving Baz and I the most charming, toothless smile. I kiss her forehead as Baz sits up too, crossing his legs so that our knees touch.

“Alright Snow?” He asks, beaming at me. I think he’s intoxicated on my-  my magic. Merlin.

“I’m grand, but what about you? How are you feeling after-”

He cuts me off with a hand. “Don’t worry about it,” he says. “It was worth it, for this. Anything would be.” He glances at Neiva, who giggles. “How does it feel?” Baz whispers with a small smile.

“It feels like a wind tunnel,” I explain, “And every time I need to use magic, it pushes the mist inside me to the surface. Like fog seeping through my pores.”

Baz smirks. “Our magic must be compatible,” he says. “My burn to your cool.” He holds out his hand.

I take it. Instantly, I know he’s right- I feel like I’m in a state of equilibrium. Like there’s a light in my chest.

Baz has stars in his eyes when he whispers my name again. He must feel it, too.

Neiva let’s go of my hand and slumps forward a bit, catching herself before she falls too far forward. With her arms outstretched, she reaches for Baz.

“Papa?”

We both stop moving. I think my heart drops to the floor.

“Papa,” she’s still reaching towards Baz.

“That’s right, I’m right here, little puff,” He picks her up by the waist. “Right here. Papa’s-” he chokes a bit on the word. I think he’s- crying? “-here, baby.”

Neiva, unaware of the emotional moment, giggles and twists in his hands so that she’s facing me. “Dadda,” she gurgles, hands making grabbing motions towards me.

I take her delicately from Baz- he’s still so shocked. I am, too. Neiva continues to babble nonsense at me. “Yes sweetheart,” I say, “Tell Dadda all about it.”

She giggles again, twisting. “Papa!” She shouts. Baz smiles at her widely. “Dadda! Papa!”

“She’s so young!” I say to Baz excitedly, over the noise.

“Children with magic begin speaking at an early age,” Baz tells me. There are tears on his cheeks. Careful to balance Neiva  on my lap, I reach for him, cupping my hand around his jaw. His eyes flutter closed as I swipe away one tear, then bring him near me to kiss away the rest.

“Do you think she has magic, then?”

“Didn’t you feel it? When we were laying down?”

“Yeah,” I say, smiling at the wonder in my lap.

“It’s funny,” Baz murmurs, also looking at Neiva, “She kind of looks like us.”

“It’s fantastic,” I correct.

“It’s perfect,” he agrees.

Nothing can get better than this: me and Baz and Neiva sitting in this circle filled with love and magic, wildflowers poking out of the ground everywhere.

I was wrong, of course.

The only thing more perfect could only be our wedding, five years after I saved Baz and one year after Baz saved Neiva.

I walk down the aisle behind her, and she quietly waddles in her eight hundred pound dress laden with expensive lace and crystals (Baz is going to spoil her rotten, I swear) leaving flowers in her wake. She’s not holding any; this is just something she does. Neiva grew flowers in the circle of rocks that day, and now she grows them whenever she walks in grass. It’s weird, it’s magic, and Baz and I love it.

Our guests love it, too. They coo at her as she walks by, and she giggles as she makes her way up to Baz.

Who looks fucking beautiful in his dark blue suit and grey tie. He knows it too; when he catches me staring, he smirks. But I know he couldn’t take his eyes off of me my entire way down the aisle. It’s the grey suit- Baz insisted. And the navy blue tie, I’m sure, brings out my eyes.

Neiva makes it to Baz, who picks her up in a sweeping motion and kisses her forhead so much that she laughs openly. I stand across from him, and when she reaches for me I do the same. Finally, I turn completely and hand her to her godmother. Penny whispers to her about how great she did.

As the wedding officiant- Miss Possibelf herself- told everyone that they could sit, I glance towards them all:

Malcolm’s in the audience today, after several anger management and other such therapy sessions, sitting with Daphne and Baz’s younger siblings. The entire Bunce family sits on the side opposite them, as do the Wellbeloves. Behind Baz’s family is the entire Watford staff, who upon hearing about Mitali’s invitation, had to see for themselves that the two people least likely to get along in their years of schooling were actually marrying each other. Their demanding for invitations made Baz laugh out loud. Various other Watford alumni are scattered here and there; Trixie and Keris are somewhere in the crowd, both wearing matching flower crowns.

Penny, Mordelia, and Agatha all look stunning in their silver bridesmaid dresses. Niall, Dev, Rhys, and Gareth all look like they’re about to break open a crime plot in their sharp black suits.

My attention is snapped away when I realize it’s time for the bonding ceremony. Baz gives me a reassuring smile as he put both hands palm up in front of him, and whispers a spell to summon flames without a wand. They flicker and dance just above his hands.

This would be really dangerous (I can almost feel Malcolm wincing in his seat) if I didn’t play my part. I take a deep breath, summoning the deep wind inside me and feel a cloudy mist gather at my shoulders, then run like water down to my fingertips. Palms down, I place my hands on his.

It works. I feel a heavy light in my breastbone, and I know Baz can feel it too because I see it in his eyes.

In a typical Simon Snow manner (this is the last time I can think that, which is exciting. I’ll be Pitch pretty soon) I don’t really pay attention to the rest of the ceremony. I’m distantly aware of what Miss Possibelf is saying, and I can hear myself responding, but all my focus is on the light I can feel pouring out of me.

I’m shocked back into reality when Baz drops my hands, ending the circuit of shared magic, and pulls me to him by the back of my neck. And then we’re kissing, and without thinking, both of my hands move up to his head, one to cup his face and the other sliding into his hair. His free hand wraps around my back, and I’m lost, gone forever and drowning in this kiss.

Too soon, Baz let’s go. But it's for a good cause; Neiva is suddenly in his arms, and we’re both covering her in kisses as she says, “Love you Papa! Love you Daddy!” over and over again.

All the bad things that happened to us in school, the day I stopped Baz’s fire, learning how to love, finding Neiva, regaining my magic, and the constant struggle of parenthood and figuring out how to deal with it all, knowing that the future will just be all the more challenging...

I don’t regret any of it. Not for a second.

Baz and I walk back down the aisle arm in arm, with Neiva on his hip.

This is it. This is my happy ending.

[loving-jack-kelly]

oh! many thanks are proffered! conceivably, perhaps a royalty anecdote, if you so desire, to dispense it to one, by way of illustration, myself and others?

The way you talk is making my day please keep talking to me.

But also let’s write a royalty AU!

As a prince, Jack had plenty of people to chose from to romance.

Almost any of the nobles’ daughters, even a few of their sons, wouldn’t hesitate to respond is Jack said anything remotely romantic to them. Any number of the maids, the kitchen staff, the women who worked in the courtyard, would swoon if Jack smiled at them, wave daintily from a window if he glanced up at them, make a point of fixing everything exactly how he liked it, anything for attention from the prince.

That was the problem, though, wasn’t it? Attention from the prince not attention from Jack. They wanted his attention not for who he was, but for what he was.

Which was why Jack, taking a lead out of one of his old books of fairy tales, had gotten his hand on some old clothes (by giving new one to the stable boy who had owned them) and found a way out (by agreeing to keep the cook’s secret stash of royal leftovers secret) to the real world.

Beyond his tiny bubble of royal life, the world was entirely different. People laughed and smiled genuinely, not just to further an agenda. When Jack talked, people ignored him and went on with their days, rather than looking at him intently with glazed over eyes, smiling and nodding to anything he said.

When he was out in the city in old clothes, when he had dirt on his face and his hair wasn’t contained in his little gold circlet, people treated him just like any other kid on the streets.

The best part of that was definitely getting to talk to people. Pretty girls, of course, would once in awhile come up and talk to him, but they would talk to anyone who would listen. The working girls would come and ask him to help with their chores, carrying things they couldn’t. The girls who sold flowers would tuck a broken stem behind his ear, the girls who worked in bakeries gave him crusts.

His favorite interaction, though, quickly became the boy with the crutch who sat on a curb and wove flowers into crowns and bracelets and necklaces to sell for a small coin. The first time Jack interacted with him, he ended up with a thin daisy chain bracelet around his wrist and a smile on his face.

After that, Jack made a point of sitting next to the boy, Crutchie, every time he snuck out. Crutchie always had something funny and sunshiney to say, something to make Jack laugh, and he almost always had something made of flowers to give to Jack.

One day a buttercup to tuck into his hair, one day a tiny bouquet, one day a necklace, a bracelet.

“Did you hear? The prince’s birthday!” Crutchie called brightly as soon as he saw Jack approaching.

“Yeah,” Jack sighed, glancing back towards the castle.

“I hear he’s having a huge party tonight! Everyone’s coming, from all over! I think I’m going to move closer later.”

“Yeah, it’s gonna be a big deal,” Jack had left among a flurry of activity, people getting rooms ready for guests, cooks rushing around making last minute adjustments to the food, and so, so many people trying to get Jack ready, as though it would take all day. He hated it, he hated how claustrophobic it made him feel, and he had needed to get out.

“Oh, I have something for you! Look-a crown! Because, get it? Your name is Jack and so is the prince’s, and it’s his birthday!” Crutchie grinned proudly and held up his creation, a ring of brightly colored flowers weaving in and around themselves into a crown surprisingly similar to Jack’s actual circlet. Crutchie reached up and tucked the crown into Jack’s hair, slipping the stems that still stuck out in to make it stay in place.

“Thanks, Crutchie.” Jack smiled gently.

“You know what’s funny?”

“What?” Crutchie smiled thoughtfully, still tucking in the last of the crown.

“You. You only show up once in awhile, but when you do, you always find me. I don’t know anything about you except your name, but you’re obviously from around here because you have our accent. You just like to listen to me. That’s funny.” Crutchie’s bright grin came back as he stepped back and looked at his handiwork. “Also funny, you share a name with the prince, and also look kinda like him. Although, I like flowers better than gold, I think.” Jack almost froze, but recovered quickly. He knew that things would change as soon as Crutchie knew he was the prince, and he didn’t want that.

“You know, I think you might have a bias.” Crutchie laughed brightly, leaning comfortably against his crate of flowers and beginning to weave a new creation.

“Maybe.” For a few minutes, Jack just watched Crutchie’s nimble fingers create first a small bracelet, then a longer necklace. “I dunno, they’re nicer. When he comes through here all decked out in gold, it’s announcing, hey, I’m richer than you, I’ve got it better than you, look at my fancy crown. But when I see you in a flower crown, it isn’t any of that, it’s just happy little flowers in a circle. I think the prince could use a flower crown, maybe. Maybe so he could be a good king, it would help him to know more what we do, instead of just what he does.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Their conversation paused while Crutchie sold a few of his little pieces to a woman passing by, exchanging small talk as well as money and flowers.

“I think even the prince sometimes looks uncomfortable with it, sometimes. Last week, when he rode through on the horse? He made eye contact with me, I think, and he just looked…sad. Lonely, I guess.”

“He probably is. It would be lonely, living up there with the only kids his age wanting to be friends with him for power, instead of for who he is. And maybe he just wants to be friends with somebody who doesn’t want that.” Jack said.

“I know I want friends who are friends with me not out of pity.” Crutchie said sadly. “A lot of people just are nice because they feel bad, either because I’m poor or because of my leg.” He looked up at Jack like he was trying to gauge his reaction.

“I’m not friends with you for that. I’m friends with you because the first time we met you gave me daisies and an apple. You’re nice, and funny. Fun to talk to.” Crutchie smiled again, brighter than before.

“Cool.” He bumped a shoulder against Jack’s. “I though you wouldn’t do that.”

“Never.” Jack bumped him back, but looked up at the clock and sighed. “I have to go, Crutch. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Come back sooner than this time. It’s been weeks.”

“I know, sorry. I’ll try.”

“Bye, then.” Crutchie waved as Jack walked away, heading back towards the palace.

As he walked, Jack carefully pulled every loose stem from where they had been tucked in his hair, keeping the crown intact and holding it gently. Slipping inside was harder than usual, he was almost caught by at least several people, but he made it to his room and hung the crown gently behind his clothes, with his collection of other dried gifts.

“Your highness? Your father says he wants you downstairs in half an hour, and that I’m to make sure you’re dressed and cleaned.”

“Come in then, Jamey.” The boy came in and took in Jack’s dirty face. “Don’t ask, I’m fine, just get my clothes ready and I’ll wash up.”

“Okay.” Jamey shrugged and went into the closet, pulling out the brand new jacket and pants that Jack had just finished getting fit to him the day before. “Your highness?”

“Just call me Jack, please, Jamey. But what?”

“You know there’s a whole bunch of flowers behind all your clothes?”

“Yeah, I know. They’re fine, I’m drying them to save.”

“Okay.” Jamey was a quiet boy, and Jack had known him for years. His mother was one of the head housekeepers, and he’d been working for long as Jack could remember, just helping where he was needed. He wouldn’t tell secrets for anything.

Jack came back from his washing table, clean wherever anyone could see, the dirt and pollen gone from his face and hands. Jamey helped him get his shirt and on, his jacket buttoned. 

“I can get the rest on myself, thanks.”

“Okay.” Jamey paused at the door. “Happy birthday…Jack.” Jack smiled at him.

“Thanks, Jamey. I’ll see you later.”

“Of course.”

The part, of course, was miserable.

Well, the food was good, and there were a couple of people Jack didn’t mind.

The tiny child king from Ruviel, a year younger than Jack and already in charge, had marched right up, glaring at the lord who was following him, and introduced himself as Spot, saying that he was only here because his regent said it would be a waste of time, seeing as how Jack wouldn’t be a powerful king, and he wanted to leave his country for a little while to get away from the lords who thought they were smarter than him. Jack liked his honesty, and he was funny, too.

And Princess Katherine, who came over and made a joke about how much she hated royal birthday parties before drifting around, looking perfectly at home except when she made eye contact with Jack and mouthed “help me.” 

But overall, Jack agreed with Crutchie. All those people, wearing as much gold and lace and scarlet and purple fabric as they could manage, just to prove they could. There wasn’t a single simple dress, no undecorated swathes of fabric, not neck or hand unadorned with a heavy ring or necklace. Everyone in the room, while smiling and laughing and acting like they were having fun, were really here to prove they were rich enough, influential enough, enough, to be invited to the crown prince’s birthday party.

As soon as it wasn’t incredibly impolite to do so, Jack quietly slipped away. He knew he wouldn’t be missed, as people sidled up to his parents and talked, or danced the night away.

He politely talked to a few people, eventually making it to his room. His jacket was off in seconds, and he flopped onto his bed, sighing. His open closet door caught his attention as he saw the flower crown hanging in the back. 

He sighed again, wishing that the simplicity Crutchie saw in a crown was more of what his life was like. 

“A happy little circle of flowers.” He whispered to himself, closing his eyes and wishing.

It was almost two weeks before Jack found time to slip into the city again and visit with Crutchie.

“I sold a lot of flowers on his birthday.” Crutchie commented, weaving together more flowers. “I got people to help move my stuff, and all the people watching the rich people get here bought things so they could feel fancier.”

“There were a lot of rich people.”

“I know! They all came all dressed up, in their fancy carriages and all! Did you watch?” Jack hesitated.

“A little.”

“From where? I didn’t see you anywhere, and I looked.”

“You looked for me?”

“Of course! I’m always watching for you.” Crutchie smiled like everyone was always constantly looking for their friend who only showed up once in awhile. “You’re only my best friend, Jack.”

“I’m your best friend?”

“Well, sure, you let me give you flowers, you listen when I talk, you laugh at my jokes, and every time you’re around you com see me. I think that make you my best friend.” Crutchie’s smile, impossibly, brightened when he saw Jack smile.

“I…thanks, Crutch. You’re my best friend, too.”

“Cool.” Again, they slipped into an easy silence while Jack watched Crutchie work.

“Oh! I have something for you!” Jack burst out, reaching into his pocket. “I figured you always give me something, so I’d bring you something for once.” He looked away while Crutchie unfolded the paper Jack had handed him, trying not to be obvious about waiting to see his reaction.

“Did you draw this?” Crutchie asked, tracing the lines with his finger.

“Yeah, it’s-”

“The prince. But in my flower crown instead of his.”

“Yeah. You said…you said you thought he could do with a flower crown for once, so I gave him one for you.”

“It’s lovely, Jacky.” Crutchie folded the drawing carefully, slipping it into his own pocket. “Thank you.” Crutchie looked like he was about to say more, but instead he blushed and look back down at his creation. “I’m trying something new.” He finally remarked. “A fancier kind of necklace. See, these parts will connect, if I did them right.” His tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth in concentration as he interlocked the four pieces he had made.

Jack found himself watching Crutchie’s face more than his hands, and he barely contained a sigh. He hated when he got crushes, always, but noticing his on Crutchie was worse than normal. Not only was Crutchie a boy, making it much less likely for the crush to be returned, but he also didn’t even know who Jack was. 

And if that changed, so would every interaction.

“There! Look!” Crutchie reached up and over, draping the delicate chain over Jack’s neck. “Pretty.”

“I like the flowers you used.”

“Thanks! I found them and Miss Rosaline told me that they would…be useful.” Jack didn’t miss the hesitation, but also didn’t know what it meant, so he chose to ignore it. “The round petals are white lilacs, and the spikier ones are jasmine.”

“I love them.” Crutchie blushed harder and kicked the ground in front of him a little bit.

“I’m glad. I love your drawing.”

“I’ll bring you another one next time.” Jack smiled.

“Really?”

“Sure. What do you want?”

“Anything, if it’s no bother.”

“Nah, I draw when I get bored, so I’ll pick one for you.”

“Thank you.”

The next time Jack saw Crutchie, he couldn’t even say anything, because he was riding through the city on his horse, in the middle of the train of officials and such, coming back from some stupid official thing that even though Jack was supposed to be learning how to run his own country for when he was king, nobody listened to him talk and nobody taught him anything.

While they were riding, Jack noticed Crutchie laughing with another boy in the crowd. Rather than sitting down with his crate, he was walking, watching the group go past. 

Crutchie looked up and met Jack’s eye, and his face turned quizzical when he spotted Jack looking directly at him. 

Jack touched his circlet, smiling slightly, and then froze when he saw the confusion on Crutchie’s face bloom into recognition and something else, something angrier. He looked away quickly, hoping against all hope that he’d misread the expression.

The next day he got away as soon as possible, barely catching up with people before pleading with the cook to not tell anyone that he was slipping out, and walked as fast as he could towards Crutchie’s corner.

“Crutchie!” Crutchie didn’t look up, focusing on his hands.

“Jack. How was your trip?”

“It’s not very long-”

“I meant the one to wherever. Far away. Complete with horses and suits and your little gold crown.”

“Crutchie, I-”

“You don’t have to lie anymore, Jack. Unless you have some other explanation for why the prince, the crown prince, rode past on his fancy white horse and smiled directly at me and tipped his crown, I know you’re the prince. Nobody but you knows my think with crowns.”

“I…sorry.” Jack finished in a whisper, sitting down on the other side of the crate of flowers sadly. “I just…”

“Lied.” Crutchie still didn’t look up, but Jack noticed his hands weren’t moving, just holding long stemmed flowers still. “You lied.”

“You never asked-” Jack defended himself weakly, knowing it didn’t mean much. Choosing not to tell the whole truth ended up being the same thing as lying.

“I didn’t think I had to. You seemed like an honest guy. An honest guy who just liked talking to me. What was it really, you needed to learn more about the people who don’t get to live with all they want all the time? You had to prove you cared about your people?”

“No! I like you, Crutchie, you really are my best friend! Please believe that!” Jack could feel tears welling in his eyes.

“I did. I want to. Why did you lie?” Jack tried to collect himself before answering.

“It’s suffocating, up there. I have everything I want except freedom. I go anywhere, people are there, I do anything, people are telling me not to. I want to eat something, ten people are there to tell me why I can’t have this or that, I have to explain why I do anything. I want to sit in my room and draw, people are there to tell me I can’t, because I have to be downstairs. That stupid birthday party was exactly how you described it. People dressed up as fancy as they could be, talking to me just to prove they could, wanting to prove they were big enough to be invited. Nobody likes me for me, nobody ever has. People like me because I’m the prince, and you liked me because I’m Jack, because you liked me. I never had that before, Crutchie. ever. The closest I have is Jamey, and he’s only my friend because he thinks he has to be.” Jack barely paused for breath. “Nobody listens to me, Crutchie, that thing I just came back from was supposed to help me learn  how to be a better king and instead I sat at a table feeling small while the big kids talked over me and refused to acknowledge me as somebody who has a brain in his head! And you never did that, you listened to me and talked to me like I was a normal kid and I loved that, Crutchie. You’re the only person in the whole world who really knows me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell the truth, I didn’t want to lose that.” Jack looked down at his own hands when he heard Crutchie sniffle a little bit. “I…I have another drawing for you, if you still want it.” He said quietly, unfolding his paper and pushing it across the top of the crate between them.

Crutchie picked it up gently, almost timidly, and looked at it carefully.

“It’s me.” He said softly. “In a flower field.” Jack nodded, and Crutchie huffed out a tiny laugh. “Do you know the language of flowers, Jack?” Jack hesitated.

“I…flowers can talk?” He was genuinely confused, and pleasantly surprised by the larger laugh it got from Crutchie.

“Not quite. You can use them to talk. Like that last necklace I gave you? White lilacs and jasmine. White lilacs mean innocence and jasmine means grace. Elegance. That’s what the necklace was.” He lifted up the flowers he was still holding in his hands, letting Jack see they were long stemmed roses. “Roses. Red roses. They…I mean I guess everyone knows what they mean. Love. Romance. Hope, for me. I was saving them” His face turned bittersweet as he talked. “I brought them today because I was sure you wouldn’t come.”

“You…saving them for somebody else?” That hurt more than Jack thought it would.

“I was saving them for who I thought you were. The boy who I thought I knew. The boy I fell in love with. Not the prince.” Crutchie’s voice was steady but when he looked over, Jack saw a tear fall off the tip of his nose.

“You…fell in love with me?”

“I fell in love with who I thought you were. With who you let me believe you were.”

“That’s who I am, Crutchie, you know me, you do!”

“Then who’s that, up there?” Crutchie pointed towards the palace, angry. Angry wasn’t a word Jack would have ever associated with him, but that’s what he was. Angry. “Who’s that person sitting on that throne, who’s face is on these coins, who wears that stupid circle of gold on his head? Because if this is you, then that’s not!”

“You’re right!” Jack burst out. “You’re right! That’s not me, Crutchie, it’s not! That kid, that perfect kid sitting on that damn throne is not me! It’s never been me, nobody knows me! Except you, dammit, you’re the only person who really, truly knows me! You fell in love with the real me, the kid who…who lit the throne room curtains on fire when he was ten to get attention, who loves chocolate and pie, who just wants a friend! That’s who I am, Crutchie, that’s who you know!”

“Is it?” Crutchie asked sadly. “How do I know that.”

“When I was ten I set the curtains on fire so somebody would pay me attention that wasn’t about my lessons, when I was twelve I convinced the cooks to give me an entire cake so I could eat something I enjoyed and I ate so much I got sick, when I was fourteen I went to my first stupid state dinner and watched the officials be completely confused by the pranks I pulled. When I was sixteen I gave a stable boy new clothes in exchange for his and snuck out the kitchen door to find a friend, and I found you, and dammit Crutchie you are my best friend. I come visit because I care, about you, not about anything else. I don’t care what people think about me, I just want…you.” Jack got quieter the longer he talked, ending in almost a whisper, looking down at his own hands. “I just want you, Crutchie, I’m sorry I lied.”

“What do you mean you want me?”

“I mean I want you to be my friend. I want what we had before, that casual closeness. I want to be able to sit next to you and talk, I want for you to put flower crowns in my hair, and necklaces around my neck, I want you tell me more about the language of flowers, maybe I want more than that, maybe I want to hold you close to me and be able to kiss you and…and love you, maybe I do. I don’t know, Crutchie, but I don’t want…this, I don’t want to be scared you’re going to pick a new corner and I’ll never see you again, I don’t want to lose everything. If I have to start over, I will, I want you to be my friend.” Crutchie met Jack’s eye for the first time.

“You mean it?”

“Yes, Crutchie, I mean it.” Jack almost reached for Crutchie’s hand, but stopped himself.

“All of it?”

“Yes.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” Crutchie stood up, slowly, and reached down to help Jack up. 

“Come with me?”

“Uh…yeah. Do you-” Crutchie let out a piercing whistle and a boy about their age was running up instantly.

“Bring it home, Finch?”

“Sure.” The boy picked up the crate and walked away with it, leaving Jack and Crutchie alone.

“He’s one of my friends. Just follow me?” Jack nodded, and followed Crutchie through the streets, watching the buildings get more and more dilapidated and far apart until they finally broke past the city walls into a field. “This is where my flowers come from. All sorts grow here, and we plant more.”

“We?”

“I’m not the only one selling flowers. Some girls sell bouquets, and me and a few other boys all sell things like mine. Like Finch. But this is where all our flowers come from.”

“Wow.”

“It’s just like how you drew it, see?” Crutchie waded out into the flowers and sat down, almost disappearing. “Come?” Jack sat down next to him, bright sunlight falling through the tall grass and flowers and lighting up Crutchie’s face in front of him, making Jack’s stomach flip. He wasn’t sure if it was from fear of losing him or the way being so close to him felt, but his stomach was turning somersaults. “Mostly we come here on Sundays, while people are inside. Nobody notices us leave, and nobody bothers us when we come back with our flowers. But that means nobody comes here other days, mostly. So we’re alone.”

“It’s pretty here.” Jack said, watching Crutchie lie back and look up at the sky for a moment before sitting back up.

“Yeah. I like it.” He was quiet for a second, and his silence was almost the easy silence they’d shared before, but with an undertone of something else. “Did you mean it, Jack? I mean really, really mean it. Everything you said about me and how…close you wanted to be?”

“Every word.” Crutchie leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. 

“Then here.” He pushed the roses he was still holding towards Jack. “These are for you.” Jack took them, four red roses, and sniffed them. “There was supposed to be more, but they weren’t as pretty.” Crutchie said, almost shyly.

“These are beautiful.” Jack breathed, and now he could identify why his stomach was determined to become and acrobat inside him. Crutchie was close, so close, close enough for Jack to be able to lean forward and kiss him if he wanted to, and it almost looked like he wanted to. 

“Red roses. Romance, love, longing, and desire.” Crutchie said quietly, meeting Jack’s eyes again. “Prove you meant it.” He challenged, and Jack took the challenge, kissing him gently and quickly before pulling away.

“Like that?”

“Perfect.” Crutchie smiled, a big, real, genuine smile for the first time that day, and leaned in to kiss Jack again.

And when Jack finally made it back to the palace, hours and hours after he left, the cooks admonishing him for taking so long they’d had to cover for him, it was with four long stemmed red roses in his hand to hang in his closet, and flowers in his hair, and grass stuck to his back. It was with kissed red lips and a smile on his face, and a promise of so much more to come.

And when Jack had finally pulled Crutchie up through the kitchens and bluntly informed his parents that he was seeing Crutchie whether they liked it or not, he spent the day showing Crutchie how he really lived, the secret hiding places and places to cause mischief, the ways he’s pulled pranks.

And when his father finally accepted that Crutchie wasn’t going anywhere, and his mother finally gave his blessing, when Jack finally stood in front of the rich people on one side and the flower boys and girls and workers on the other, it was with a crown woven of fresh flowers tucked into his hair and laughter in his voice. 

When Prince Jack was finally able to be the same person as just plain Jack, Jack was finally happy. Really truly happy. Not just content, but happy.

[soulful-ofevans]

Keep Holding On - Steve Rogers

request: oh! oh! can I request #26?!? This line: Can’t you see I’m so in love, that I’m terrified? @smilexcaptainx  

people: Steve x Reader / Avengers / ft. Fury

word count: 3.6k (ik, sorry it’s so long but I needed some FLUFF) 

warnings: swearing, fluffy-angst-fluFF

a/n: Another request I, unfortunately, neglected until now. I’m going to link this in with another imagine that’ll be part two for this one! So stay tuned for that one ;)

Enjoy - R.xx  

Every month got better. Every month I fell more and more in love with this insane man… this insane, kind, generous, altruistic man. We fit so perfectly together it was almost scary; how well we knew each other’s minds and emotions. I could detect a stressed out Steve Rogers from twenty miles away. Steve could feel my anger pulsate through my blood vessels whilst being twenty feet below me.

I would walk in the door, there he would be with dinner all set. Steve would stomp his way to the gym down in the basement area of Stark towers, and I would be there in a flash, sitting against the thick, cotton-padded walls, talking to him while he struck the bag as if it was all of Hydra’s men in one three hundred pound cylinder. We’d talk, he’d loosen his tension that laid within the muscles in his shoulders. Soon he would join me on the cold marble floor. There we’d talk for ages, letting all the stress of evil lurking around every corner of our lives all go free in the vast gym Stark had designed for all Avengers to train in. We made each other whole, we made each other happier than the other could ever believe.

We really were the perfect pair.

On nights like this, we would feel the summer wind dance in our bedroom, swirls of cool breezes and gusts of warm wind somehow danced together, waltzing together to produce a perfect temperature for these summer nights.

Nights when we would talk for hours in bed, just holding cuddling our exposed bodies together under the white silky covers.Listening to Steve’s record player. That shabby, old record player would spin Charlie Chaplin’s The Flower Girl all day long, leaving the tune to remain in my dreams as I drifted off to sleep in Steve’s arms.

It was never hard to talk to him about issues I had. I had never struggled to tell him I was anxious about a mission, or I had uneasy feelings about the building we may be inside. Scoping out any vital intel or sick human beings who we’re terrorizing a city, country, or nation. Avengers did not stop at intelligence missions. We went on manhunts, and manhunts always left us bruised and battered, physically and emotionally. Normally we’d get a couple days to go into our hiding places and recharge for a new task from the hands of Nick Fury.

Today, however, we hadn’t even put our heads to the pillows before FRIDAY’s voice was echoing off our bedroom walls.

“Why is he calling us in, I haven’t even showered yet…” I muttered to Steve. He perched on his knees as I sat on our downy comforter. He was trying to wash the stained blood off of my face with a warm washcloth, soothing me so greatly; until we got the call.

Pulling back, Steve looked at me and smiled to see my face hadn’t gotten a scratch on it, just someone else’s blood that he could remove. I had my eyes closed with a scowl now sketched on my face. Chuckling at my obvious annoyance, he leaned up and softly kissed my lips, surprising me with my eyes still closed. I could feel his large calloused hands go up and hold my aching head as he deepened our kiss.

Once he finally had the strength to pull his lips away from mine, Steve opened his eyes to see mine slowly opening up to meet his strong, loving look. “I wish I could let you just sleep but seeing as I’m captain, we should probably-”

“We gotta get the show on the road, I know, blah blah, I know Captain Perfectionist.” Getting up slowly, I felt a weird head rush but ignored the heat that suddenly flew into my head, temporarily blinding me for a moment. I stumbled a bit but luckily Steve was already changing into his suit again, unable to witness my unusual imbalance.

I didn’t have one signature suit, so I got to dress in whatever combat clothes I preferred. The heat today led me to a black quarter length top and slightly loosened black skinny jeans. I needed my legs to breath in case I had to go on a chase and I couldn’t be stopping to unzip my pants to let my thighs breath. Slipping my hair into a messy ponytail, I saw in the mirror that it was still tangled with crusted blood in it.

Steve picked me up and trotted over to the door before putting me down, “Let’s go lazy bug.” I slumped down and walked out the door, my arms were hunched over with a gray hoodie I was able to snatch before leaving our room. I used the hood to cover my fucked up hair. I glared up at my boyfriend who tugged me into the elevator, getting his professionalism on.

Slowly, though, a small smirk was forming on my lips, “Really? Lazy bug?”

Smiling down at me, Steve gave me a small shrug and kissed my shoulder while sneaking his arms down and around my waist. The elevator doors closed and we shot down to the Floor 11.

“I call you ladybug and your lazy today, I think it fits perfectly for you.” I didn’t argue from my excessive exhaustion and just held onto his arms tighter, feeling Steve’s soothing kisses on my head, protected by the hoodie. “You are a real nerd, Rogers, anyone ever tells you that?”

“Yeah, actually. Not so long ago, when I met this breathtaking woman, she smiled at me with these pearly white teeth and rosy red cheeks with speckles of freckles. I remember she said I was a giant nerd after I tried to explain to her that the laws of physics do not apply to vibranium because of it’s unnatural chemical makeup.” Okay, I had to smile at that one. The memories of our first time hearing each other’s voices speak, of our hands grasping each other’s, feeling that electricity between us. I saw it all like it was yesterday. A yesterday I wished to go back too.

The team filed in, all looking like they went to a rave that turned into a murder mystery party. Natasha had two cups of Starbucks, one for herself and one for me. Vision had just learned to make tea, and so Wanda quietly sipped on her Oolong Black Tea while I took a seat next to her, folding my legs underneath me, not caring about professionalism when half of us looked like hell. The only ones in track? Natasha, Steve, Vision, and Bucky. The rest of our sorry asses had to deal with ‘walk of shame/morning after’ look.

“Look, I know you’re all pissed we’re in here right now, I am too-”

An irritated Tony interrupted Fury, “Then why have you summoned us here?” he scratched the raven hair that was splayed all over his head.

“Believe me Stark, I wouldn’t be here unless it was for an urgent matter.” A stack of a case brief packets smacked down on the conference table. Taking a small peak over the title, I suddenly felt sick to my stomach and frozen all over.

I took peeks at everyone in the room and saw different yet, appropriate reactions to what they must’ve been seeing or reading about the case that I knew all too well about.

“We’ve received new information on case 27. Agent 11, this the first case you ever had. Even though.. we cut it off, because of unfortunate circumstances,” My pulse raced as all eyes shifted to my shrunken body in my chair, I was hiding in my sweater, trying to become a sort of chameleon and blend into the room. I was having no such luck.

“What… was the unfortunate circumstance?” Natasha, who was the only one with the balls in this room to ask the question that was lingering on everyone’s lips.

Everyone except; Tony, Steve, Fury, and I. We knew about the deadly case at hand far ago, and I had a feeling three out of the four were okay with finished the unsolved mission at hand.

Tony stepped up, helping me out by telling the team the deal with Case 27, so I didn’t have to. The words he spoke made everyone’s hair stand up, gathering goose bumps down their arms and legs.

“So we found a very important target that would nail this case right on the bullseye. You’ll all be sent out to Italy, where the group will be residing. This man,” Fury pointed to the projector, and a nasty man I knew as Fredrik Vulrochiv, was shown. “We need to take out- but interrogate the bastard first.” Nick’s eye landed on Natasha, who rolled her eyes and eventually nodded in agreement of not shooting the guy the moment she would meet him face to face.

“Listen, this isn’t going to be easy. These are manipulators, they twist your words as hard as they will twist your bones, breaking them one by one.”

“Man, I am really loving this the more I hear it…” Sam grumbled, tossing his packet on the table, he sighed and rubbed his eyes. All I could do was just stare at my unopened packet. Blankets of fear for the journey down horror lane that I was going to go on covered my body, suffocating me.

“We all have assignments and different area to cover. I say we get ourselves familiarized with the area before we land in four hour-”

“No. I won’t allow it.” Everyone’s head slowly turned towards at a very tense, Steve. Along with him was a slightly irritated Bucky, sitting below Steve, at his side.

Tony’s eyes ignited in a slightly flaming annoyance at the ‘perfect’ soldier, Tony always carried a love of antagonizing Steve at any expense. “What’s got your knickers in a twist this time, Rogers?”

“I don’t want to start with you, today. Stark, I’m sorry, and Nick I’m sorry as well, but this case was closed for a reason. Besides we’d all need to know how to handle that kind of nuclear weaponry lying there, as well as the bodies ready to murder us the second they get a whiff of our scent.”

“That’s what an intelligence briefing is for Captain. Sorry to be the one that shits on your parade, but this is happening. I want this case down and finally burnt in hell, where it belongs…”  I could feel Nick’s stare at me but I refused to look anywhere but my shoelace that was untied, waiting to be redone by my quivering hands.

The room was silent for a few moments, Steve was aggravated and I was destroyed, but what broke my statue state was Wanda’s sniffles. She had tears running down her blotchy cheeks, ones that she tried to wipe away, “I’m sorry, sorry-”

She apologized to the group as she patted her cheeks with a tissue. I finally let my head rise and found her brown, glowing eyes, glittering with tears as she stared into my soul, seeing the horror that was The 27.  

“How much is the risk?” She asked me. No one understood except me because I knew she was reading my thoughts as well, and I was weighing the risks and the more this case became real to me, the more the scale tipped in the Devil’s favor.

So I just shrugged my shoulders, picking at my dirty, caked nails. I softly muttered to her, though, wanting to let the room leave me be in my little humble chair in the back of the room. “Around seventy.” Wanda let out a sob, shaking her head as she stood up, knocking her tea all over the table, “Please, YN! No!”

“No!” Steve suddenly roared. Stalking over to me, he leaned down to meet my scared, doe in headlights, eyes.

“You can’t sacrifice yourself, doll. I know that’s… this is y-your… your mission. I… I-I need you to stick around here for a long time, though, and so does everyone else,” The group nodded, even Fury who had a glint of guilt in his eye that watched me.

“Steve, this is my life and these are my decisions. I went in on Case 27. It’s my Hydra if that makes you understand any better. Just look,” Standing up, I gathered some courage from god knows where, and walked to the front where the pictures of Case 27’s last mission we’re shown. I clicked the right arrow and the team gasped when they finally were projected onto the screen.

The photos that appeared we’re of the gruesome aftermath. Men, all around… the good people and the terrible people, it didn’t matter because they all were just bodies now. No longer souls. In the middle of this mass murder mess, was a small woman, caked in dirt, blood, and scars that still littered her arms today, that woman was me.

After the secret war of 1999, I had gone on my first ever Captain-mission. The task was to end these warp-minding men who used the power of trickery into gaining more and more of an army. They wanted full control, of not just a country, or even a continent. No, they wanted the world to bow down at their feet. They use to be quite prominent in the papers, but the new died down of them when the group seemed to have ‘gone under’. I knew better than that. They’re probably lurking somewhere, in the shadows maybe. Or in plain sight, all I know is that they never left me. 

Their words, knives, bullets, laughs… all haunted my dreams, my happy moments, my memories…I almost had those bastards,  I should’ve seen the mistake I had made instantly. I didn’t though because life isn’t happy endings. That moment in my life, that mistake I made, cost twenty members of SHIELD, their lives. I had just miscounted the men, I misjudged their defense force. I missed two vital things a Captain needs to be on top of.

I had been attending to a wounded fellow member when a bullet ripped right through my left lung, lodging itself in there quite painfully. The teammate I was trying to save just smiled at me, squeezing our bloody hands together, he laid his head back on the ground as I screamed in pain and sorrow for the fallen member. I took out my assailant and left the mission unfinished.

I knew that the enemies had called for backup and I was expecting them to arrive at any minute. So I saved myself that night, only myself. Leaving, I had twenty intelligent, determined SHIELD members at my side. I arrived back at SHIELD with carrying only one remaining body back into Headquarters; my own.

It was abnormal to hear Bucky’s voice boom during conference room meetings but I guess he found some spirit inside to rise on his feet and stomp on the ground like a fussy child, “Please, I’m begging no, Nick. She has a vendetta against that group! She’ll only go in as a suicide fighter and you know that!” 

Walking over to Fury casually with no threat in his movements, Bucky still managed to make Tony tense. Which I had caught in the corner of my eye. “Barnes-” “No. I went up again those band of…assholes, in 1990, Paris. Even they outsmarted me, that was before they even gained their mass weaponry that they possess now. I was with five other winter soldiers, trainee’s of mine, we all made it back. Whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing I don’t know!”

He glanced at Tony who had a snarl on his face from the mentioning of the extra Super Soldiers that were obviously now dead. “Yeah… I killed a few dozen of the dicks, but the rest… they are not human. They have no soul, no brain to logically think about anything but killing whoever gets in their way! We, do not have the power to get through this mission-”

“You’ll get this mission done. You’ll get it done with a smile on your face too, Barnes. All of you, I don’t care about vendettas. Frankly, we could use one at the sound of your weak asses.” Bucky squinted at Fury’s backhand words towards him.

“Listen, we gotta get them this time, guys. We don’t have that much time left.”

“Before?” Tony questioned.

“Before they…create something that would change the world for the worst. This needs to be carried out today, no exceptions. I’m sorry, Agent 11. I’m sorry, Steve, but this is final.”

Looking around the room, not one face was readable. I had no idea what they were thinking as they read over their briefings. Some gasped, some held their head in their hands.

I did, however, immediately detect anger in Steve’s eyes. I had to look away from him before I felt guilt build in my chest. Looking towards my best friend, I could see a small amount of pain peaking out of Bucky’s eyes.

As much as I’d like to say that I was brave and felt confident when I carried out those orders, I can not. Because, truthfully, I was shaken to my core the moment we had gotten ambushed. I was blinded by fear and past memories invading my mind I didn’t even realize that the conference room had emptied, leaving me and my brief packet… and a furious steve.

He kept his jaw locked as he saw down next to me. Normally, Steve would know what to do with missions where he felt my life was in peril. He’d come to my side and ask what to do, and that’s when we would go to the beach and sit on our blanket Wanda had knit for us for Christmas. 

That was our moment to think, get away from the walls of Stark towers and let our minds drift away by the sea’s breeze.

This time though…he had no words, nothing to tell me it would be okay, or that I needed to stay behind for my own safety. We knew everything about this mission. The good, the bad, and the evil that laid ahead. 

The only response I got was a warm hand wrapping over my icy, pale, bluish hand. I smiled at his large hand dominating mine, it gave me somewhat of a feeling of protection. Maybe not tomorrow, or even in 12 hours. But in this moment I felt his protection covering me like a forcefield.

“We’ll be okay, alright…we’ll make this out alive, YN, because we’ve got the whole team on our side. Okay?”

I left a small smile on my face when looking up at Steve’s panicked eyes, scanning mine for any trace of fear. He couldn’t find any, though because I didn’t have any. I knew what was to come, and he knew too. That was the most frightening thing of all, no fear meant no worries. No worries meant that being killed wasn’t one her mind anymore, it was fading in the background. She no longer was herself. YN was a soldier, ready a mission with no strings attached to her life anymore. 

“Listen, YN. Please, do not do this, and leave me here. I let love slip away once, and I can not have that happen again, not when I’m so in love with you, I’m fucking terrified…”

A small gap was on YN’s face when he spoke, he never even said shit, and he jumped all the way to number two on the scale of swears! Looking at Steve, YN could help herself, she couldn’t let the tugging of his heart grasping hers, go. She loved it, honestly, YN loved the feeling of his love. He made sure to show it, whenever he could. If this mission went south, and YN was going to spend the rest of the summer in the hospital, she knew that it would kill her to have Steve in pain that whole time.

As much as it was easier going her way, she swerved towards Steve’s heart, letting it take her own heart, prisoner.  

Grasping his shoulders, she hugged him to her body. Steve wrapped his arms around YN, letting her cry on his suited shoulder. He couldn’t tell whether these sobs were of pain or relief. He couldn’t tell whether YN was crying from relief or from the pain of having to stay alive. Her nails dug into Steve’s suit, but it was no matter. He knew that YN wasn’t leaving this base as a woman with a death warrant. She was leaving with a reason to live.

“I’ll make this out alive, Steve. I promise. I’m not going to leave the man I’m madly in love with alone. If I did, I’d be hurting us both because leaving you, is like having to rip out part of my soul and leave it with you until I return. I want my soul, Steve. You are my heart and soul, don’t forget that. Ever.”

A tear strayed from his eyes that looked like a cloudless sky, glossed over with water that he wanted to be kept inside, but couldn’t seem to control. Steve kissed my wet, salty lips that smiled against his. A feeling of relief washed over me once I realized I wasn’t going to be gone within hours, I was going to be here, fighting with my wonderful, courageous man that would stop at nothing to end all evil, but more importantly, would not sleep, eat, or think, until he had his heart and soul back in his arms again.

“Why do you have to be so damn perfect, Steve Rogers?”

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