#i will be munching on my blue cookies and if it is upsetting i will be throwing them at my screen

[pascalpanic]

Lovely Josie! Can I request a Frankie piece? Where reader is part of the friend group and really into Frankie. She knows he's also into her but just typical insecure Frankie. So she flirts with him and tries to seduce him every chance she gets until one day she's had enough and really goes for it. And if course Frankie likes it 😇 Merci!

Spicy-Sweet (Frankie Catfish Morales x f!Reader)

summary: ^^

W/C: 4.3K

Warnings: lots of talk of alcohol, food, god Frankie’s an idiot but a cute one, so much pining and flirting, implied age gap and Frankie’s insecure over it, Frankie has a brief and mild anxiety attack but is comforted

A/N: this is one of my favorite things I’ve ever written, I really hope you guys enjoy it!

Bucky- that was what the men called you. When you’d first joined the group of men, it’d been as Pope’s friend, a shock to all of them; you weren’t sleeping together, weren’t sneaking around. Just friends. That threw them for a loop. You were always at his side, his right-hand wing-woman. Frankie had been a little put off at first that he’d been replaced, but he grew to like you just as much as the other men. That’s how you’d earned Bucky: Cap’s sidekick, Pope’s sidekick.

When you finally bonded with the rest of them, became friends with them, you were less Pope’s sidekick and more yourself. You grew to love the men for different things. Benny was always there to cheer you up, full of bad jokes and energy. He’d take you out when a date stood you up, buy you a beer on your shittiest days. Will Miller was a shoulder to cry on. He was smart, strong, emotionally intelligent. Wise beyond his years, Ironhead always had the best advice for you. Pope was the partier, and was the one who got things done. Organizing plans was his forte. He loved getting the group together to hang out, and was the only one who could rally the group.

Frankie was all of that and more. Everything. Frankie had caught your eye the moment Pope introduced you to the men. Frankie was the quietest, even quieter than Will. He never enjoyed the spotlight, especially when you were new, but he loved making his friends laugh. He was comforting and helpful, lending you a jacket or helping you with a manual labor task you couldn’t quite get.

Frankie is the one you have a crush on. All of the men have their attributes, and you have to admit that any of them would make a good boyfriend and surely a good lover, but they are and always have been brotherly first. Frankie was something different. You wanted to stay in his arms forever, wanted to kiss the bald patch on his jaw and steal his Hawaiian shirts. You tease him endlessly to hide your feelings, though never in a mean way at all. Always soft and joking, always reciprocated by the teddy bear of a man.

You were the same to him; the first time he saw you, he thought he wanted to marry you someday. He loves your laugh and your humor, loves the way you nudge his side and even though it’s a little painful, wants you to do it again just so he can feel your body touching his. He loves how you can hold court over the men with your stories, can get them to agree on the most divisive of issues. He’d even proposed once that you become Cap, not Bucky. You were clearly a leader. But Santiago brushed it off by saying that Bucky was getting his own show now, so he’s just fine, and besides pendejo, you can’t change a nickname once it's been given.

Emotionally constipated Frankie is just fine to sit to the sidelines. If he has one principle with love and friends, it’s that he’d rather have you as a friend than not have you at all. That’s why he doesn’t necessarily openly flirt with you, why he suppresses his feelings until it’s late at night and he’s alone and can daydream about your pretty face and tight jeans and the crinkle of your nose when you smile.

You’re different. You wear that green shirt you know Frankie always ogles you in when it’s a night out. You buy him a drink or two. You insist he dance with you, take him on errands with you on a Saturday morning. You can read the man; you’re pretty damn sure he likes you too, but you don’t want to ruin it. Rushing him is the last thing on your mind.

-

As you wander through the farmer’s market on a spring Sunday morning, you shiver as the breeze rushes past your bare arms. Frankie doesn’t notice; he’s too busy admiring a booth selling hot honey. You can’t help but laugh as he delightedly samples a spoon of the syrupy-sweet-spicy product, and turns to you with wide eyes. “Bucky, you gotta try this,” he insists, handing you a sample spoon.

Nodding, you give in and taste it. The flavor on your tongue reminds you of Frankie if he were a flavor: a little spicy, but more of a warm feeling. Infinitely sticky-sweet, floral and tasting of sunshine. There’s heat, just a little, enough to awaken your tastebuds and mingle with the honey perfectly. “That’s good shit. How much is it?” You ask the vendor.

A few minutes later, you walk away with two bottles. You hand one to Frankie. “Here. This is for you,” you tell him with an earnest smile.

Frankie’s brows slide together beneath the brim of his favorite ball cap. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” you shrug and pat his cheek, your path curving to the right as you approach a bakery stall.

The morning is sunny and just slightly cold, making you shiver every so often. Sweet Frankie walks dutifully at your side like the dogs and their owners similarly strolling the tent-lined sidewalk. His eyes light up as he sees breads and flowers, homemade jerky and beautiful jewelry. The variety is exciting, and you often hear Frankie shouting for you from a new booth.

While you admire the jewelry made of local stones, something warm and soft covers your shoulders. You look down to find that it’s Frankie’s suede brown jacket. “You looked cold,” he tells you and turns a little pink before patting your shoulder and wandering off.

At the end of the day, you have a full reusable bag, brimming with goodies: a small bright bouquet, two loaves of bread, cookies, fresh berries, and a bottle of hot honey. Frankie’s is similarly stuffed, though it’s with much more unhealthy choices. The two of you sit on a grassy hill, munching on a pack of thumbprint cookies Frankie purchased.

The morning sun is just starting to warm up, but the jacket you’re now wearing is cozy. You lean your head on Frankie’s shoulder as the two of you rest there without words, lost in your own thoughts.

God, he’s so cute. So sweet. A little stupid. Just how I like them. Is my flirting not obvious enough to him? You wonder internally.

Frankie’s thoughts are similar but different. She’s so sweet. She’s so nice to me. I wonder if she’d ever like me like that.

-

Partying is Pope’s favorite pastime. The man enjoys getting shitfaced and taking a similarly drunk date home. Lord knows what they do; you’re glad you don’t. That leaves you and the Millers and Frankie. You and Benny dance and sing karaoke, twirling and shouting the lyrics to the song blasting in the bar. Frankie and Will sit on the sidelines.

That’s exactly where tonight has found you. A surprisingly sober Pope has gone home with a pretty girl he flirted with briefly before she tugged him by the jacket sleeve. He shot a look of excitement at the four of you before leaving.

Now, Benny requested his favorite song through the pay-per-tune machine in the corner. You’d squealed and dragged him out, dancing with him on the wooden floor the bar provides. Frankie can’t help but think the two of you would make a good couple. The two of you are full of sarcasm and energy at most times, around the same age. Frankie’s a bit older, and he can’t help but think that it would be weird for you, that it would prevent him from liking you. If only he knew.

Benny does, actually. He’s annoyed that your group doesn’t give him enough credit for his smarts. He might be mostly muscle, but he’s packing brains too. He’s great at observing social interactions, and he can especially tell that there’s something between the two of you. He’s learned his best friend like he knows how to drive or what his own phone number is. Benny knows Frankie, and he knows he won’t make the first move for fear of upsetting you. That’s why he’s taken it upon himself to be your blonde, blue eyed Cupid and queued up Frankie’s favorite song next.

You know it’s his favorite song. Of course you do. When it comes on, you turn to the bar with wide eyes and wave to catch Frankie’s attention, then wave him over. Benny says something or another and wanders off. It takes some nonverbal persuading, some pleading eyes and pouting to the man, but Frankie eventually adjusts his jeans and gets up, leaving that suede jacket behind on his barstool.

“It’s your song!” you exclaim as you throw your arms around him, starting to dance along with him. He moves back with you, though nowhere near as fluid or free.

He shakes his head but smiles, and you flick the brim of his cap. “Oh come on, you love this song. Don’t be such a dope,” you tease and grab his hips, forcing him to move them a little more than the stiff motions he’s making.

“I am a dope,” he mumbles and you roll your eyes, moving in a way that invites Frankie to move back against it. It’s a two-person dance, and you’re starting to get him moving.

Chuckling, you look up at him. “You ever seen Footloose?” you ask him.

He blows a raspberry into the air, laughing. “Of course I have. It’s my favorite movie.”

“Then how come you can’t dance?” You tease.

Frankie makes a noise of mock-injury, clutching his chest. “Damn, Bucky. Right in the heart.”

You giggle and rest your head on his shoulder. “I was going to say that you remind me of Willard. I guess that’s fitting though. You can’t dance.”

His scent is the only thing you can think about, the way his cologne is spicy and sweet on his flushed skin, warm from having you in such close proximity. “Does that make Pope Ren?”

“And it makes me whatever the girl who dates Willard is named,” you shamelessly flirt, swaying him to the side as the song changes in keys.

If there was anything in Frankie’s mouth right now, he’d be choking. Maybe it’s just because you’re dancing together, he rationalizes. Maybe it’s just because you wouldn’t want to date Pope. It can’t be because you like him. That’s not even a thought that crosses his mind. “Ha. Sure,” he shakes his head, taking off his cap and teasingly placing it backwards on your head.

It’s loose on your head, and you laugh as you look up at him. Frankie has that feeling again in his gut: he’s going to marry you someday. It can’t be the alcohol, not in either of you. You’ve both only had a drink each. No, in this moment he realizes the depth of how bad he wants you, but he cannot comprehend that you want him too. There’s no way you could ever love a man like Francisco Morales, he tells himself. But he wants you to. He aches for you to.

The song ends and the ache only grows. Frankie is not a dancer. This is his time to retire to the barstool. “Well, thank you for holding my hat,” he teases you and steals it back, putting it on himself and patting your side before wandering back to his spot next to Will.

You frown, but then Benny finds you again and the energy returns somewhat. You long to feel Frankie’s arms around you again, to dance with him and whisper jokes next to his ear so that you can feel the way his laugh buzzes in his chest. You consider buying another play of Frankie’s song later, but that would be suspicious. You’ll have to find another way, but you have to do it soon; you’re not sure how much longer you can last before you combust from not getting to kiss his soft lips, to feel his scruff beneath your fingertips as you cup his face and finally close the gap between the two of you.

-

Frankie is much too old for parties. He’d decided that even a few years ago now, that that sort of thing was best left to the young bucks who could drink endlessly and awaken with only a mild headache. How the hell Benny had talked him into attending this party, he wasn’t sure, but he knew that you’d be there and that was enough for him.

You’re not a big partier either; you can get wild, but only around your friends, usually only with Benny there to egg you on and hand you shot after shot. You don’t particularly like getting drunk, just enough alcohol to make things a bit lighter. Benny and Santiago were the ones who’d insisted you and Frankie come along to this party a mutual friend of theirs is hosting.

Of course, the boys wanted you two there but had failed to mention they were each bringing dates. When you wandered in with Benny and a girl flung herself onto him, peppering his blonde stubble with kisses, you’d quickly learned that you weren’t going to get a good night with your favorite guys. Santiago was similarly taken, a girl draped across his lap in a busy living room, each of them holding a drink. He’d given you a two-finger salute as you wandered to the kitchen, kind of annoyed.

You’d dressed a little nicer, though nothing too special, and you immediately hoped at least Frankie and Will would be around tonight to hang out with. Will’s not a big partier, though he’s a little more social than you and Frankie. Your phone buzzes in your back pocket and your face falls as you read the text.

Ironhead: sorry guys. Not gonna make it out tonight.

He provides no explanation why; Will never does. You know better than to question it. Your only hope now is that Frankie doesn’t blow you off.

Frankie could never. The promise of you being at the party was enough for him to meticulously shave and spray that cologne he knows you love on his flannel, which you’ll surely ask for because you’re always cold. He’s not here yet, so you lean against the kitchen counter and crack open a hard seltzer as you look around. Bringing your drink with you, you hit the bathroom and when you return, there’s a familiar ball cap poking above the crowd, labeled with Standard Heating & Oil. Frankie.

Sneaking up behind him, you snatch the cap from his head and put it on yourself. “Hey, pilot,” you sing as he turns and his face lights up to see you. His hair is still slightly damp from the shower, leaving an indent in those curls from where the cap was.

“Goddamnit, Buck,” he laughs and tries to steal it back, but you dodge out of the way.

“Looks like it’s just us tonight, flyboy,” you sigh as you prop an elbow on his shoulder and look around, finding Benny and his girl making out on the dance floor and Santiago playing with a woman’s hair on the couch.

Frankie has to admit he’s okay with that. “They didn’t tell me they’d be bringing dates,” you grumble. Frankie holds back a chuckle. This was most definitely planned, Wingman Benny embracing his role in forcing the two of you together. Frankie couldn’t say he was too upset about it, in all honesty. “Come on, let’s get you a drink,” you shake your head and grab Frankie by the bicep, trying not to shiver at how muscular his arms are.

In the kitchen, you toy with the hem of his shirt as he mixes himself an old fashioned from the vast cocktail bar. “I love this one,” you murmur absentmindedly, admiring the worn fabric and the ripping seams at the hem. It’s so perfectly Frankie: an old black Fleetwood Mac shirt, nearly falling apart. There are holes in the hems and under the left armpit but it always smells sweet and spicy, just like him, and feels like a security blanket. “Looks good on you.”

“Looks like a piece of shit. I need to just throw it out, but I can’t bring myself to,” he chuckles as he finally takes a sip of his drink. He knows the reason he can’t: you love it too much.

“Good,” you nod and set down your hard seltzer, making yourself a drink.

“What you got there?” he asks as he watches you stir up a concoction.

“Essentially the same as you. Old fashioned but with Fireball instead of regular whiskey.”

“You seem to like the spicy-sweet thing, don’t you?” he teases.

God, if only he knew. “Spicy-sweet, just like someone else I know,” you tease him and nudge your shoulder with his. “Maybe that’s why I like you so much.”

Frankie’s heart does several backflips in a row, complete with a roundoff and a cartwheel. He’d earn the gold in the Olympics, the way his heart tumbles and turns in his chest. “Ha,” he laughs dryly, looking down at his own drink, swishing it and watching the ultra-sweet cherry spin through the dark liquid.

The music gets louder from the other room as you and Frankie drink in silence, both of you leaning against the kitchen counter as the amount of alcohol per cup steadily decreases. “I’m gonna go see if I can find Pope,” Frankie finally speaks over the loudening noise, nodding to the living room where everyone is clustered.

“Sure,” you call back, even though he’s just a few feet from you.

It’s practically a maze, trying to find his way through the people. They’re all moving and bouncing, the sound overwhelming him. It’s like a goddamn mosh pit, he thinks, or how it must feel to be buried inside one. How did this party become something like this, and why the hell is he here? Frankie wanders through, getting turned around as the group moves and sways.

His breathing gets heavier, and suddenly Frankie feels suffocated. His primary objective no longer is finding Pope, it’s getting the fuck out of here before this herd stampedes him to death. He feels pathetic and small, like a single fish in a giant school wandering through an abysmally deep sea.

When the tide loosens its hold, when Frankie sees a path, he takes it out. He’s not sure how long he was trapped in there- 20 seconds, a minute, five minutes, but he’s overwhelmed and his head is spinning, his drink somehow gone and lost in the shuffle.

You see him stumble out, looking terrified, and rush over. “Hey, hey, Frankie,” you murmur as you grab his forearms. “Are you okay? Did you find Pope?” You ask, your thumbs tracing over his pulsing veins.

He shakes his head, and you take it as a no for both. “Okay, come on, did you drive here? Is your truck out there?”

He nods and grabs his keys, putting them in your hand. “Alright, pilot, come on. Let’s get you out of here.” You stick the hat back on his head and hope it could maybe bring a sense of normalcy back to him.

Frankie’s head feels like radio static as you bring him to the truck, unlocking it and sliding in first across the bench seat. He follows in after you and closes the door, and he turns the air conditioning on full-blast, feeling desperately hot.

“Hey, hey. Talk to me,” you beg of him, cupping the side of his face with one hand. You shiver under the quick breeze of the vents, the cold air immediately filling the cab of his truck. “What happened?” You ask, just above a whisper, fingers tracing the stubble of his jaw.

His eyes are getting more normal, less panicked and more sane. He must’ve had some kind of anxiety or PTSD moment in the crowd. “Just… thought I was gonna get crushed,” he murmurs, not looking at you.

“Frankie. Let’s breathe together, okay? Look at me.” His eyes find yours and you smile. “Good. Follow me.”

You ground him nearly instantly, your chilled skin under his hands as he grips your upper arms, your soft lips parting to breathe in and out. The flutter of your eyelashes when you close those beautiful eyes, the one that have such a distinct unique color. He would kiss you right now if he had the courage.

He breathes along with you and is calm enough by the second breath to think rationally again. The wave has passed, leaving his body feeling tired and limp. “I-I’m good,” he assures you, tracing his fingers across your skin. “Bucky, you’re freezing.”

“Frankie,” you give a sad chuckle. “I’m supposed to be calming you, and-“

“I’m super hot, please, take this,” he says as he shucks his flannel and hands it to you. “It would help me,” he says simply, enjoying the way the air conditioning more directly contacts his skin without it on.

“Well, okay,” you laugh and slip it on, breathing in the warm scent that is Frankie and sighing contentedly. “See? I love the sweet and spicy thing, like your cologne.”

He shakes his head and looks away. “Oh, stop. You don’t mean that.”

You frown at him. “Frankie. You’re thinking straight again, right?”

He nods.

“Then how aren’t you processing how in love with you I am?” You ask with a soft laugh, resting your head against his shoulder. “I flirt with you endlessly, and it feels like you never pick up on it. So now I’m just going to say it: I like you, Frankie.”

Biting his lip, Frankie looks down at you with slight confusion. “Really?”

You laugh incredulously, burying your face in his neck. “Yes, Frankie, really. I like you a lot. I have since the moment I met you. And I’d like to think you like me too.”

There’s a beat of silence and he nods, taking one of your hands in his and lacing the fingers together. “I really like you too. I’ve been in love with you since the moment we met, Buck,” he admits, wide brown eyes looking down at you with all of the love in his massive heart. “I just… didn’t want to assume anything. You’re so good to me, but you’re so good to the other guys too.”

“Do I buy the other men bottles of hot honey? Have I ever brought a date around like the other guys do?” You ask, lovingly and hoping he sees your point. “I’ve been pining for you for so long, Morales. I just want you to get it through your thick skull that I care for you and I’ve been in love with you for quite a while.”

“I feel stupid,” he mumbles, ears turning pink at the tips. “It was pretty obvious. You’re right.”

“Hey, you’re not stupid,” you assure him and squeeze his fingers. “I personally think it’s fucking adorable that you didn’t want to assume that. I like that, that you didn’t want to do anything first without knowing the same about you. I like all of you, Frankie, from that scruffy beard to these cozy flannels you always let me borrow.”

His heart melts in his chest, reducing him to a puddle. “Then I guess I should ask if you’d be my girl.”

His girl? If you thought he couldn’t get any cuter, you were wrong. You can’t hold back any longer and you swing your leg across his lap, straddling him in the bench seat of his truck. “Can I kiss you, Frankie?” You ask, gently removing his cap and setting it aside.

“God, yes please,” he practically whines as he cups your face in both of his big hands, kissing you deeply and breathing out heavily through his nose.

It’s the best thing you’ve ever felt, Frankie’s body pressed to yours as your lips meet. You both taste that perfect spicy-sweet flavor, the way that’s so Frankie in your head. This might be the sweetest and softest man alive, you think to yourself, and goddamn, you’re lucky, Bucky.

His body radiates the heat of his love and stress and everything, completely melting into yours. You’re never going to stop doing this now that you’ve started. You’re never going a day without holding Frankie like this.

Your legs are firmly planted on either side of him, and Frankie moves his hands to grip your waist and pull you in closer. Shivering at the way he practically manhandles you, you moan into his lips, murmuring his name breathlessly. It’s like the most perfect melody, the way you say it. He mumbles your name back, your real name. Not Bucky.

Your arms wrap around his neck and you press yourself tight against him, running one hand through the soft curls at the nape of his neck. He tastes like heaven, just as perfect as you’ve dreamed about for as long as you’ve known him. When you break away, you smile softly, admiring the way he’s panting beneath you. His head is tilted back to look at you on top of him, his eyes glazed over and cheeks warmed with pounding blood. You gulp and trace the side of his face with feather-light fingertips, admiring his beauty. “God, Francisco,” you murmur. “Why didn’t I do this sooner?”

-

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[fairyoftbz]

𝒜𝒸𝒸𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓃𝓉 | K. Younghoon

ᵂᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍˢ : ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵒᶠ ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈ / ᵐᵉⁿˢᵗʳᵘᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ / ˢᵗʳᵉˢˢ / ⁿᵒᵗ⁻ˢᵒ⁻ⁿⁱᶜᵉ ᵉˣ⁻ᵇᶠ ᴬ/ᴺ: ᴵ’ᵐ ˢᵘᶠᶠᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵐʸ ᵘᵗᵉʳᵘˢ ⁱˢ ᵖⁱˢˢᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᴵ’ᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ʰᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵇᵃᵇʸ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒⁿᵗʰ, ˢᵒ ⁱᵗ’ˢ ʲᵘˢᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᵐᵉ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵃʳᵐ 💕🥺 ⁽ᵇᵗʷ ᴵ’ᵐ ᵗᵉˢᵗⁱⁿᵍ ⁿᵉʷ ˡᵃʸᵒᵘᵗˢ ˢᵒ ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ ᵐⁱⁿᵈ ⁱᶠ ⁱᵗ’ˢ ʷᵉⁱʳᵈ/ᵘᵍˡʸ.⁾

╰☆☆☆☆╮

The soft purrs of a cat against your chest gently woke you up, still feeling a bit sleepy and tired after the chill, gaming night you spent last night at your boyfriend’s house. Keeping your eyes closed to hopefully fall back asleep within the following seconds, you caressed Cookie’s fur slowly, the creature cuddling up further to your chest while purring like a machine.

Everything was cosy and sweet until you feel a growing pain in your lower abdomen, followed by a rush of warmth going straight to your underwear. You tensed up and opened your eyes widely, turning your head to the side before discovering in horror that you started your period a few seconds ago.

In your boyfriend’s bed. On his brand-new white sheets.

Immediately jumping out of the bed to minimise the damage, accidentally scaring the car away, you grabbed a few many tissues from the box on the bedside table and stuffed them in your panties, just for the time to pace to the bathroom. Since you had already ruined the sheets, you hoped you weren’t going to stain the carpeting. You fumbled in the bathroom cabinet and got out a small transparent box, hidden behind some men lotion and took out your hygienic products before sitting on the toilet. In a rush, you take out in the piece of furniture under the washbasin one of your boyfriend’s clean underwear, exchanging it with yours doing your business. The fabric hugging your waist was a bit loose, but it was essential until you cleaned your mess. 

The feeling of panic invaded your body when the blood was not coming off the fabric of your panties, scared that Younghoon might be mad because of what you did. Throwing the damp piece of underwear in the clothes hamper, you rushed to the bed and your eyes widened. The stains you left looked a lot more prominent on white sheets than on any other colour, the bed looked like you had just brutally stabbed someone while sleeping. 

It’s with tears in your eyes – probably sudden stress and your hormones acting up – that you started cleaning the mess, the ruffle on the bed and your sniffles waking Younghoon up.

The man on his side of the bed slowly emerged from his deep slumber due to the thuds of footsteps on the carpeted floor pacing around the bedroom. He rubbed his eyes and stretched his arms above his head, a weird, metallic smell forcing him to open his eyes.  Your boyfriend immediately sat up in bed, flattening his crazy bed hair before gasping at the red stains your side of the bed. You clutched a wet piece of cloth in your hand, eyes filled with terror and tears as you stared up at him. 

“Baby what happened ?” he said while getting up, worried and drowsiness laced in his voice.  “I-I…I st-stained the sheets, I’m so sorry,” your voice came out shakily as you kept on rubbing the piece of fabric on the stains, guilt and shame rushed through your veins so intensely that you couldn’t look at Younghoon in the eyes. “Y/N! Y/N. Breathe darling, it’s okay,” he said as he grabbed your hand to stop you, gently replacing a piece of hair behind your ear.  “I’m so sorry, it was an accident, I swear-“ you said as you caught your breath back, your heartbeat settling down as you noticed the reassuring, soft smile on your boyfriend’s face. 

“I know, I know, love, you don’t have to apologise. Go take a shower to wash up instead, I’ll take care of the rest.” Your boyfriend calmly said, hand caressing the back of your head. “A-Are you sure, though? I should really clean the mess I made and-” “Yes love, I am.” He kissed your cheek and gently walked you to the bathroom, getting out two clean towels before grabbing the clothes hamper. He reassured you one last time before you started taking off your clothes and hop in the shower cubicle. “Take the time you need and... easy, okay?” You hummed in response and he left to give you some privacy.

Younghoon took the sheets off the bed, alongside with your pyjamas and underwear, starting the washing machine before walking back to the bedroom. There, he opened a chest of drawers and took out one of your favourite t-shirts of his with an old, too tightly fitted pair of boxers of him and some sweatpants. While throwing those in the dryer to get them warm once you’ll be out of the shower, he chuckled when he remembered your worried, ashamed face as he took out fresh sheets. He found you cute to get worried about this kind of stuff. He wasn’t mad at all, he simply didn’t expect to get woken up this abruptly. Kisses and hugs would have made a better morning. 

But it was okay, these were the contingencies of life. Though this little accident didn’t upset him, a question ticked over in his mind: what could have possibly happened in the past to make you so frightened of committing such a small mistake as staining the sheets?

A few minutes later, when he was done fighting with the sheets to force them in place, you came out of the bathroom wrapped in the blue towel he gave you, carefully walking towards him. He paced to the laundry room and gave the clothes to you, helping you put on the t-shirt and taking care of your hair while you dealt with the bottom part. 

“It’s okay, Y/N. Are you hurting somewhere?” he asked as he gently rubbed the towel in your hair, watching you nod.  “My stomach aches and I’m slightly dizzy, but I’m fine,” you mumbled, and he sat you down, placing the towels on the edge of the bed before heading to the kitchen to prepare a hot water bottle. Lying down to ease your pain, a meow filled the silence of the bedroom as your head landed on the puffy pillow, his cat jumping on the bed and sauntered towards your figure. Giving you headbutts until you smiled and petted it, Cookie turned around, his tail caressing your face as it lied perpendicularly on your stomach. The warmth of its fur and the vibrations of the purring slightly eased not only the pain but also your heart. 

After a few minutes of mindlessly caressing the cat and thinking, you might have exaggerated your reaction when you woke up, but you didn’t know how your partner would react. Moreover, you were surprised and quite shocked at the amount of blood that had gone through your underwear and pyjamas, so it was just your honest reaction.

Your lover arrived from the kitchen, a cup of tea and a plate filled with sliced fruits displayed on a tray, the hot water bottle tucked under his arm. 

“I’m sorry for earlier, I made a fuss over nothing,” you confessed, and your boyfriend smiled as he placed the tray on the bedside table, handing you the hot water bottle. He scratched his cat behind the ears when he saw the animal on your stomach, giving you a sweet kiss on the forehead.  “It’s completely fine Y/N. See, we got rid of all the shreds of evidence!” he winked, and you giggled but stopped almost immediately, hand clutching your stomach. 

“Careful, love,” Younghoon chuckled and sat more comfortably on the bed, hand going to your cheek.  “Don’t make me laugh, then,” you whispered and smiled to each other, his cat acting all jealous and bothered by the attention he wasn't getting. His laugh slowly died down, his mouth resting in a smile as his eyes never left your face. While one of your hands rested on your belly, the other went to caress the cat, who immediately started purring again. Your eyes met your boyfriend’s, who never stopped looking at you. He looked pensive as if he wanted to sound your thoughts out. “What?” you smiled at Younghoon and he cleared his throat, sitting closer to you, carefully linking your hand in his.

“Why… why were you so close to having a mental breakdown when all of this happened?” His free hand gestured the sheets and your lower abdomen, his unsure voice giving you the impression that he was walking on eggshells. “I just… I-I didn’t know how you would react because I’ve had quite a bad experience with my ex-boyfriend in the past. And since then, I’m just scared of getting my period with my partner,” you summed up as you stared into his eyes, watching him take a deeper breath and nod. Everything was clearer now. This idea of insecurity had popped into his head, but he wanted to hear it from you, and not from his imagination. “I see… But. You know that I would and will never yell or get mad at you for this type of stuff, okay? I know periods can be pretty irregular and hard to predict, so if it happens, it happens, okay? I'm not your ex-boyfriends, whatsoever,” you nodded at his words and answered his smile before grabbing his arm to gently tug him closer to you. “Thank you, Hoonie,” you mumbled against his chest and he softly rubbed your upper-back, kissing the crown of your head. “It’s completely normal, darling, you don’t have to thank me for this. Now eat because I feel like someone is getting interested in your breakfast,” you giggled as you pulled away, watching Cookie stretching its neck out to nibble on a slice of pineapple. 

You kissed your boyfriend on the lips before taking the pineapple bite and fed it to the creature, your boyfriend placing the plate on the bedside table to prevent any other theft. Smiling as Cookie licked on your fingers, you stared up at your lover before snuggling against him, an arm around your shoulder while his back rested against the bed frame. Younghoon pressed a strawberry against your lips to force you to open your mouth, his actions making you giggle. You hastened to eat the fruit and munch on it because his cat walked to your mouth to get a bite of the fruit. The man next to you sighed and grabbed his cat before placed it on the floor, getting progressively jealous as you paid more attention to Cookie than him.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous of your cat,” you giggled as his serious face confirmed your doubts, only to have him pressing another fruit against your mouth. “I just don’t like sharing what’s mine,” he stated and jolted away when you tickled him in the ribs. “Stop being so childish,” you said and grabbed the slice of apple that he was handing you between your teeth, purposefully missing his fingers by a few centimetres.  “Shut up and eat,” he tried to hide his smile while you laughed, hoisting yourself on your hands to kiss his cheek and whisper in his ear that he’s only yours. Despite having your stomach aching and cramping, you were grateful to have those kinds of times with Younghoon. It enlightened the mood and you felt warm and secure, thanks to all the love and attention you brought to each other.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

The Problem with Magic Markers

Soooo Critical Role campaign 2 just ended, I've got major brain rot over it and my wonderful gf gave me a wonderful idea for a fic so! This happened! A gift to @spiky-lesbian who came up with this adorable concept and is just generally an all round wonderful person who deserves the world. Also huge thanks to my ever patient, ever helpful beta reader @minky-for-short

If you liked it too, please reblog and leave a comment over on Ao3!

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Mollymauk is so proud of Caleb in so many ways and, now they have their lovely lives with their wonderful children, he finds more reasons to be every day.

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Mollymauk Tealeaf had learned many things since he’d become a parent, now five years ago. A short amount of time, he’d used to think, but plenty of time to obtain a lot of knowledge you never thought you were ever going to need in your life.

Like how sandwiches cut into triangles were disgusting but sandwiches cut into squares could be eaten by the hundreds. Like how to make a bath appealing to a toddler with the liberal addition of bubble bath and a willingness to get absolutely soaked playing Sharks with them. Like how a scraped knee and bumped forehead could be cured with his cuddles and kisses alone, like how a promise from him that everything was going to be okay was enough to make it so.

And how silence was very, very worrying.

So when Mollymauk walked past his son and daughter’s room and heard only silence, when he knew for a fact they were in there, he stopped dead. He put any thoughts of getting to go and spend some time with his sewing kit out of his mind. Because he’d been a parent long enough to know that something was up, two five year olds weren’t that silent unless some game was afoot, something they didn’t want their parents to know about. Which meant he should probably at least poke his nose in.

So he knocked lightly on their door, the one covered in whichever drawings they were most proud of that week and a hand painted sign Jester had made for them the day they were born, prettily proclaiming ‘Trinket and Una’s Room!’ amongst a flock of miniature unicorns.

“Sweetlings?” he called gently, “Mind if I come in?”

There was a sudden scrabbling from behind the door and he heard a muffled grunt from Una before Trinket answered hurriedly, “Um...yes! Okay daddy!”

Raising a curious eyebrow, Molly pushed the door back, disturbing the usual scattering of toys left on the floor like the aftermath of a felt based battle. Although it did seem like there was more mess than usual…

Trinket stood in the middle of the room between their two little beds, his backpack at his feet and an expression of perfect innocence on his face that was just a little too polished to be anything but an act. Molly had to admit he’d probably learned that from him.

“Well hello there, little man,” he leaned in the doorway, smiling crookedly, “What game are we playing today?”

Trinket shuffled his feet, “Um...packing?”

“That sounds like a fun game,” Molly’s gentle concern upgraded to full blown wariness, “And where’s your sister?”

Trinket turned a deeper shade of purple, looking down at his fidgety feet that were poking more holes in his innocence by the second, “Um...she...um…”

Which was the point Una helpfully chose to poke her little head out of the backpack, dark eyes blinking curiously and ears flapping, trilling, “Here daddy!”

Trinket flushed guiltily, frowning at her, “Una! I said you had to stay shh!”

Molly took a breath, wandering over to sit down on Trinket’s bed. As his eyes swept around the room, he noted a great deal more chaos in the room. Almost like someone had been going through the toy box and the drawers and bookshelves, hurriedly pulling things out, making quick decisions about what to abandon and what to stuff into a little blue, dinosaur patterned backpack. Molly supposed he should at least be grateful that Trinket saw his sister as worth taking.

“Why don’t you talk to me, babies?” he offered gently.

Trinket swallowed, eyes darting around nervously before the last of the fight went out of his narrow little shoulders and he mumbled, “Daddy...can I tell you a secret?”

Molly had to smile. This was almost a running joke between the three of them, his kids running up excitedly to tell him they had a secret for him before whispering into his ear about some apparently very cool bug they’d seen or that Uncle Caddy had snuck them an extra cookie or that he was the best daddy ever. He loved being brought into their world where everything was brighter and more exciting and there was fun to be found in the smallest things. And where everything was felt so much more keenly.

“Of course you can, sweetling,” he murmured gently, patting the bed beside him, “You can always tell me secrets. Whatever it is, I promise we can make it better together.”

As Una rolled out of the backpack, apparently unconcerned and rather enjoying herself, Trinket clambered up beside him and stood so he could whisper into his ear. Molly tucked his purple curls behind one ear, smiling encouragingly.

Voice already trembling, Trinket leaned in and murmured, “I messed up Papa’s coat.”

Molly absorbed that in silence, feeling his son’s anxious red eyes on him. He leaned back, keeping his face carefully neutral before taking a long, deep breath through his nose, marshalling his thoughts.

“Trinket, I’m not going to lie to you here. We might be in trouble.”

His opinion didn’t change when he actually saw the coat. The coat his husband had been wearing as long as he’d known him and refused to be regularly seen without, no matter how many attempts Molly had made to buy him a newer, less ragged, less musty smelling version. It was more a comfort blanket than just clothing, stained and scorched from numerous spells and spills, old leather worn shiny from overuse. He hadn’t said so in so many words but it didn’t take a genius to guess that Caleb had worn it since before he came to the city. Which meant it had probably come from his parents. And though it was old and faded and stained today, it must have been new when he got it, a costly garment for people like the Ermendruds. The sort of gift that would only be given if your only son was leaving home to join the Academy and wanted to show him how proud you were.

A lot of Caleb’s life was like that. Even as his husband, Molly found himself having to piece things together from passing comments and turns of phrase, things that dulled his love’s eyes and tightened his jaw. Molly had about a quilt and a half’s worth of assumptions and semi-finished anecdotes by this point, telling of a sad and fractured timeline.

But he knew enough to see what the coat meant to Caleb and the place it held in his husband’s black and white, yes or no, yours and mine way of thinking.

The coat that now had a minor gallery’s worth of doodles and drawings scribbled in magic marker across the sleeves and all the way down the back. And if he wasn’t comfortable with Molly washing the thing, he wasn’t going to be okay with this.

Trinket had been fretfully watching his daddy since he’d first pulled the coat out from where he’d guiltily stashed it under his bed. As Molly’s mutely horrified silence dragged on, he only became more and more anguished until he was barely in tears, wringing his tail between his pudgy fists.

“I only wanted to make it pretty,” he whimpered, “Papa will hate me. I won’t be his special boy any more.”

Molly looked up at him, reaching out and putting his hand on Trinket’s shoulder, “Oh sweetling, your papa loves you a lot, you know this isn’t going to change that.”

But he couldn’t stop thinking about the times he’d picked up a pen from Caleb’s desk without thinking much of it, doodling with it until he’d looked up to see his husband gaping at him in scandalised horror. Or the times he’d stolen sips from Caleb’s drink when they were at the cafe, the same way he’d do to any of his friends, but Caleb would frown if he caught him, unable to understand why Molly was taking his coffee?

It was just part of the way his brain functioned, the rules it spat out after absorbing years of poverty and trauma, along with some different wiring that had simply occurred naturally. Mollymauk had learned a long time ago how to fondly work with these Caleb-isms, making concessions where it was best to and encouraging his wizard to gentle the restrictions his brain built when he needed to. It was like tending some kind of creeping vine in a garden, the way he saw it. Sometimes things needed moving aside so it could flourish and sometimes it needed pruning so it didn’t strangle the flowers around it. Caleb had been as brave as Mollymauk could have wished in managing his idiosyncrasies and sometimes he just had to sit back and admire how different the Caleb he lived with today was from the anxious, mumbling wizard he’d first met.

But how much patience he’d be able to muster when it was one of his favourite things in the world, Molly couldn’t say. But he wasn’t looking forward to telling him about it.

“Should I go?” Trinket’s lower lip wobbled, glancing back at his half packed bag, which Una was back inside, the front half this time as she munched away on some snack he must have stashed in there.

“Absolutely not, your papa would never want that,” Molly squeezed his shoulder gently, “We’re going to put the coat in to soak so we can get all this ink out and then we’re going to find him and I’ll tell him what’s happened. But you need to be the one who says sorry, okay?”

Trinket nodded frantically, still clinging onto his tail for comfort, “I am sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

“I know, buddy,” Molly drew him close and hugged him tight, hating to see him so upset, “But we’ll be laughing about this before long, you’ll see.”

Maybe if he said it confidently enough, he’d start to believe it too.

Caleb wasn’t hard to find for a number of reasons. For one, their apartment was very small and there were only a handful of rooms to look in. But more importantly, it was late afternoon on a day where Caleb didn’t have any reason to go down to the Academy and fulfill his duties as an adjunct professor and when his bookshop was closed, as it was once a week. Which meant there was only one place he would be, in his half of their spare room, either playing one of his video games or reading.

Molly wasn’t quite sure what they’d do when one of their kids decided they wanted their own room and were tired of sharing, meaning Caleb would have to store his books and he’d have to store his sewing somewhere else. Or if they had another kid. He’d been toying with that idea in the back of his mind lately.

Maybe best not to float that idea with Caleb right after this.

Mollymauk could feel Trinket in his arms, his offer to pick him up and carry him having been immediately, breathlessly accepted. He could sense him getting more tense, more anxious, growing heavier against him as Molly knocked lightly on the door.

“Ja, come in,” Caleb’s response was immediate, not even needing to ask who it was or having to pause over whether he wanted to see them.

When Molly went in, Caleb was in the old, ratty wingback chair they’d liberated from some sidewalk when they’d first moved in, Molly announcing teasingly that a future professor needed some grand leather throne from which to smoke a pipe and pontificate. Caleb had blushed and rolled his eyes, not even believing back then that one day he would get the job he’d always dreamed of having, thinking trauma and past hurts had stolen it from him.

So now Molly always got a small flush of pride when he saw his Caleb sitting in that chair.

His hair was getting a little longer these days, it’s auburn tangles pulled into a small knot at the crown of his head so it wouldn’t fall in his eyes. His beard was growing a little thicker too, more than the usual rusty shadow that dusted his jawline. Molly absolutely was not going to be complaining about any of that, he liked his husband looking a little more rough around the edges like when they’d first met.

As soon as he saw them, Molly with Trinket balanced on one hip, Caleb’s face lit up with a smile. His smiles had been rare once upon a time but now just the sight of his family was enough.

“Hello,” he set the book he’d been reading to one side, already expecting Trinket to want to sit on his lap like always, “How are my loves?”

Near Molly’s ear, Trinket whimpered mournfully and pressed his face against his daddy’s neck. It was more than an ache to listen to, Trinket idolised his papa, following him around whenever he could, listening devotedly as he explained his work even when it wandered far off the track that his little mind could understand. Molly had no doubt the attempt to brighten up his coat had been a genuine attempt to make him smile and he couldn’t imagine how much it was hurting his little boy, to think he’d upset the man he looked up to more than anyone.

Caleb’s smile dulled a little, seeing Trinket hesitate, immediately realising they weren’t here for playtime, “What’s wrong?”

Molly exhaled slowly, carefully keeping his voice calm and level, “It’s okay babe, Trinket just...did something he wants to apologise for.”

“Oh?” Caleb frowned a little, eyes still fixed on Trinket, arms still open.

Molly opened his mouth, ready to do the hard part but before he could, Trinket bolted upright and tearfully burst out, “I wanted to make your coat pretty because you always like my pictures and I thought you could take them everywhere not just in your pockets but I made a mess and I’m so sorry papa! I’m really sorry!”

For a moment both of his parents were a little stunned, not quite sure what to say as his rambles tapered off into spluttery sobs. Molly warily glanced at Caleb, looking for any change in his blank, closed off expression, any flicker of discomfort, even anger.

After a few beats, ones that felt longer than usual, Caleb only nodded, getting to his feet. Gently, he reached over and put a gentle hand on his son’s face, catching some of the tears dribbling down his cheek on his thumb.

“Little Kätzchen, it’s alright,” he murmured softly, “Please don’t cry.”

Trinket sniffled, blinking blearily, “You’re not angry? Don’t want me to go away?”

Caleb’s eyebrows shot up in alarm, “No! Oh, Trinkie, absolutely not. I’d never want that.”

“But…” Trinket’s eyes were wide, hopeful, wanting to take this relief being offered but hesitant to, “It’s your favourite thing in the whole wide world…”

Caleb chuckled quietly, his smile back with all it’s warmth as he leaned in and kissed his forehead.

“Kätzchen, you and your sister are my favourite thing in the whole wide world.”

Molly nearly yelped in panic as he felt the weight of Trinket suddenly leave his arms before realising his son had thrown himself at Caleb, locking his arms around him tightly. He didn’t doubt for a moment that his husband would catch him, only smiling fondly as he gathered Trinket close and buried his face in his hair.

“It’s all okay,” Caleb whispered against the rust red curls he’d given their son, “It’s okay, little one.”

Molly let them have their moment, letting Trinket cry the last of his tears out happily against his papa’s chest, hanging back and feeling his heart thudding warmly against his ribs. Eventually he was their beaming, bright little boy again, if a little damp, wriggling down from Caleb’s arms determinedly after one last little kiss against his papa’s cheek.

“I’m gonna make you a sorry card. The best sorry card ever,” he promised Caleb, already toddling towards the door, “It’s gonna have glitter.”

“Wow, that kid is definitely my son,” Molly observed wryly once his little lavender tail had disappeared around the corner.

“Then you can clean up the mess he’s definitely about to make,” Caleb chuckled, moving into his husband’s arms.

“Hey,” Molly kissed the crown of his head gently, “Well done. I know that must have been hard for you and...I’m really proud of you.”

He couldn’t see it but he could hear the coy smile in his voice, “Well...I meant what I said. Some coat is never going to be more important to me than my kids.”

Molly smiled knowingly, “I know baby….but you know, if you want to scream into that cushion for a little while, that’s okay too?”

There was a short pause before he felt Caleb’s shoulders drop in relief.

“Thank you, Katze…”

“Is it done yet?”

Molly had to fight a smile. He’d explained to Caleb that soaking his coat would take exactly thirty minutes, knowing his husband fixated on time easily, but still he asked every five minutes on the dot. He’d expected nothing less.

“Not just yet, babe,” he repeated, as he had all of those other times, looking up from the laundry they’d been folding so Caleb would have an excuse to hover anxiously in the laundry room, over the tub of hot soapy water and a little rubbing alcohol his coat was submerged in, “Soon though.”

Caleb gave a small grunt, poking a finger into the water curiously like it was some potion he was working over. After a moment, before Molly could turn back to folding the clothes, he frowned.

“This sleeve isn’t in the water…”

Molly’s smile turned crooked, coming over and putting a hand on Caleb’s before he could move the one sleeve into the tub, “I thought maybe you’d want to look at it...decide if you want to keep that one.”

Caleb blinked, not understanding until he turned it a little and saw the drawing his Trinket had chosen to adorn the sleeve with. It was done in bright red, standing clearly against the dark fabric, unmistakable a child’s drawing. There were four figures there, two taller and two smaller. The first had a set of horns drawn a little too large for it’s head, as well as a tail. The second had a long scarf and a scrawled head of shoulder length hair. The next was much smaller, with another set of horns and a tail but the same scribbled hair. And the last was tiny, with voluminous ears and spikes on the end of it’s fingers. All of them had immense smiles and held hands, a lopsided love heart hovering above them.

As the other scribbles and swirls turned into formless ink in the water, Caleb held this one like it was the most precious thing he’d ever seen in his life.

“Yeah,” he murmured, smiling softly, “I think this one can stay.”

[greenninjagal-blog]

Trouble

Hi yeah its me, and look I’m already back with a new fic for the new year :D cherish this moment I don’t think i will have have this turn around so quick again. For the TSS Fanworks Secret Santa Exchange because I was a pinch hitter :DD @nerdywriterhaven I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Patton has a thing about boardgames and Virgil has a thing about Logan. Together they figure it out. 

Word Count: 7900

Quick Taglist: @alias290​ @chelsvans​ @coyboi300​ @dante-reblogs @dwbh888​ @glitchybina​ @faithfulcat111​ @felicianoromano​ @harrypotternerdprincess @holliberries​ @jemthebookworm​ @killerfangirl3​ @mrbubbajones​  @musical-nerd18​ @nonasficcollection​ @stricken-with-clairvoyancy​ @the-sunshine-dims​ @themagicheartmailman​ @themultishipperchild @thenaiads​ @treasureofpriam​ @vianadraws​ @welovelogansanders​  

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

Patton shows up at Virgil’s dorm room just slightly after six pm on a Tuesday with two thermoses of soup that are still warm to the touch, a halloween tupperware of chocolate chip cookies that had been passed between him and Virgil so many times that Patton really doesn’t remember whose it was originally, his laptop, phone, the chargers for both, and the board game Trouble.

Virgil, predictably, shuts the door in his face the second he sees the game box hidden under all the other things in his arms. Patton also thinks that Virgil tells him to go away, but it’s muddled by the door.

Instead he shuffles all the supplies to his left arm and knee, and knocks again on his door just below the leftover tape from the nametag that his RA keeps putting up and Virgil keeps ripping down because he doesn’t want anyone knowing where he sleeps. His knuckles hum with the rap, datatata dat dat! And he smiles even when there’s the sound of something being thrown at the door from that side.

Patton chooses not to hear it because he’s a good friend and an even more stubborn houseguest.

The door a little bit down the hall opens up with the usual fanfare of someone who is running late to a night class-- which of course is the charm of Roman Prince. He looks nice, as usual, and Patton even thinks that if he hadn’t been wearing two different colored shoes, no one would even know that he had probably just woken up from a nap. The music of his room blares out into the hall with a rap song Patton thinks is Hip With the Kids these days, but Patton himself can’t make out any of the actual words.

All the much better because he’s pretty sure it’s Remus’s music and Remus likes his songs like he likes just about everything else: dirty, scandalous, and offensive. Not that Patton is good friends with either of the Prince siblings, but he’s heard the rumors floating around about both. Roman smiles at him, with glittering white teeth and dimples and soft warm brown eyes that could have been made of melted chocolate.

“Oh! What a spectre!” Roman says, seeming to forget that he’s on the way to a class at the sight of Patton standing at Virgil’s door. “Tell me, angel, what brings a glorious sight such as you to our dorm buildings on this amazing day?”

Virgil’s door swings back open before Patton can answer and Virgil hisses from the darkness, the way he’s usually prone to do whenever Roman or Remus or their blatant disregard for the rules about music volume at two AM is brought up.

He looks not much better from the glimpse Patton got before the door was closed in his face earlier: he’s still pale to the point of looking sickly and dressed in the same clothes as yesterday, with his eye shadow smeared and his hair not brushed at all. There’s a red imprint on the side of his face that Patton thinks matches a crease in his blankets or pillows from where he probably tried to suffocate himself on and off all day between anxiously texting Patton all about “the absolute worst day of my entire life and no I’m not even exaggerating this time Pat”.

“Hi Virgil!” Patton says, as Virgil reaches forward and to take a thermos and the tupperware from his arms and glare unbidenedly at Roman. “I brought dinner!”

“I hate you,” Virgil says, and does not mean because he loves Patton’s Broccoli Cheddar Cheer Up Soup and he’s been in need of cheering up since Patton had seen his messages at noon on his way to his second class of the day.

Roman gasps like he’s offended on behalf of Patton who is not offended as much as endeared to his best friend of several years. “Virgil! How could you act so callus towards a beautiful muse such as this?”

“Get lost, Princey,” Virgil tells him firmly, grumpily, Virgil-ly. “He came here specifically to make a pun about my pain.”

“I do it with love,” Patton adds. “And I brought cookies to make up for it.”

Roman looks like he doesn’t know what to do with that information and Virgil doesn’t give him time to find out because he kinda hates Roman-- although Patton always tells him that “hate” is a strong word and Virgil always says he means it anyway. Patton supposes that if he, too, had hallmates that played music louder than life up to the early hours of the mornings during Finals Week, and then cranked it higher when he knocked on the door to ask them to stop, he might also strongly dislike them.

Virgil ushers Patton into the dark room and then kicks the door closed while Patton is waving goodbye at Roman.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light level: Virgil was certainly making use of those thick blackout curtains! It made the whole room look like it was three AM, rather than six PM! There are blobs of stuff all around the room, piles of clothes and blankets that Virgil prefers to have on the floor rather than put somewhere where he’s not going to trip over it in the middle of the night, but Patton supposes that’s just how Virgil’s always been.

“If someone breaks in, they’re gonna trip over this shit and I will be out of here long before they can get back up,” Virgil had said the first time Patton had suggested maybe, possibly cleaning something until they found the floor.

The desk where Virgil did his school work is empty and the textbooks and computer that normally covered it are all on the ground like a massacre from what Patton can make out. Virgil shuffles through the room and ends up turning on the purple lava lamp that Patton got him three years ago so that they could at least see each other and the faux-floor, and even then he doesn’t look happy at needing that much. The elevated bed had the blankets ripped up from it and turned into a nest with Virgil’s phone light peeking out from the depths like some underwater cave with a sea monster in it waiting for an unsuspecting diver.

“Remind me, how you got into this building?” Virgil says, tiredly as he pries open the cookie container. “It requires a key and last time I checked, you don’t have one of those, Pat.”

“As if a key would stop me from checking on you!” Patton replies. He plops himself on a pile of clothes and clears away another spot for Virgil to collapse next to him, so that Virgil can’t exactly escape. “Now, what is this about Logan again? You were being kinda vague and world-ending-y again. ”

Virgil lets out a moan around the cookie he shoved in his mouth and drops to the floor next to Patton, to munch angrily or just upsetly without actually offering an answer, because he’s Virgil and he’s allergic to talking about things that upset him. Patton sets down his other thermos, his laptop, and his own phone to make room for the game between them.

“Must we?” Virgil asks as Patton sets up the board with a practiced hand. Even in the near darkness of the room he knows exactly what he’s doing, and could probably figure it out with no light at all.

“Of course!” Patton says. “You sounded like you were in Trouble.”

“ Sorry to disappoint.”

“It’s rather Risk -y of you to be self deprecating while within hugging distance.”

Virgil doesn’t say anything for a moment, just swallows the bite of his cookie and stares at the colored pieces in front of him. The board game is well worn and well loved-- one of the first ones Patton had ever gotten and one of the first ones he ever convinced Virgil to play with him. Although “convinced” is a strong word for how Patton had just been staring at the board numbly with red rimmed eyes when his father had asked Virgil to come over and try to coax him into eating something, anything, please .

They’d lost three pieces of the red team and one of the yellow and two of the green, but that’s okay because Patton generally played blue and Virgil had custom ordered four purple pieces for just the two of them a few years ago.

Carefully, placatingly, Virgil reaches a hand forward and pops the dice bubble for his number. He gets a four.

Patton gets a five.

“How many times have we played this one, Pat?” Virgil asks, in a voice much softer than before. In the faded purple light and the shadows, it’s hard to see the number on the die, and harder to see exactly what Virgil is thinking about with his eyes hidden like that. His nails are bitten down to the quick, ruining the black nail polish he spent an hour applying last weekend over their shared Biology notes.

Patton shrugs as he reaches forward to take his turn and pops the bubble. Honestly he didn’t think he could calculate the answer if Virgil pressed: this was their go-to game, this was his go-to pun, this is what they did even when the world was falling apart at the seams. It was easier to focus on moving playing pieces a couple pegs than it was to focus on the sound of a heart monitor or raspy breathing or bony pale fingers that shook when they tried to hold anything.

It was easier to find a way to win when the instructions were so clear, and the rules were so fair, and the consequences of losing were just having to put the game back in the box.

Virgil doesn’t say anything more and Patton doesn’t force him to, although he desperately wants to. He wants to reach out and catch Virgil’s hands in his own, he wants to give him a squeeze, he wants to wipe away the tear tracks in his makeup and he wants to tell Virgil that whatever it is, Patton will be there for him.

He wants Virgil to look at a game for once and have fun.

But the only sound in the room is the popper when they roll the die back and forth.

Patton gets the six first. He moves his second leftmost piece to the start and hits it again for a three.

Virgil stares his blue piece on the board for a long moment, without blinking. His hands lie limply in his lap and the tub of cookies sits at his knee. The purple light makes his eyes glisten sweetly, wetly, sadly, with a resignation that Patton knows and wishes he doesn’t. The lump in his throat swells up.

“Virgil?”

Virgil blinks. And then blinks again.

“Why should I even bother at this point?” he asks. He runs a hand up to his hair and tugs at the locks.

“Virgil, this is the opening of the game,” Patton says. “You can’t give up alrea--”

“But it’s not like I’m going to win,” Virgil says and Patton sucks in a breath sharply.

Oh. It was one of those days.

Patton thinks that he should have been expecting this; it had been a decent amount of time since Virgil last had refused to finish a game, and Patton had almost thought that maybe they had kicked those thoughts for good! That through sheer willpower and perseverance and proof to the contrary, they might have managed to rework how Virgil approached a challenge. That at one point Virgil might laugh and smile even when he wasn’t in the lead--

And yet, Patton’s sitting with one piece three spaces ahead of Virgil and Virgil is ready to call it quits. The game had just started. Patton had only been sitting in the room for a total of five minutes. Virgil hadn’t talked for more than a couple sentences.

It’s one of those days, except that Patton doesn’t think that it’s ever been this bad before, because usually they at least made it to the one piece around the board in Trouble , through to one check in Chess , through to one hotel being built in Monopoly , or one train ticket completed in Ticket to Ride .

“This is a sign, isn’t it?” Virgil continues. “I’m just being stupid even considering it. Of course I am. I always am. Nevermind, I don’t want to do this today Pat. Thanks for the soup and the cookies and I’m sorry that I made you walk all the way--”

Patton reaches out and snags Virgil’s arm before he can get all the way off the ground. The board nudges to the side dislodging several pieces into the surrounding void, but Patton thinks that he can replace a hundred playing pieces.

He cannot replace his best friend.

Virgil’s skin is cold, even though the room was comfortably warm, and he’s soft to the touch-- which is never what Patton expects when he gets those lightning quick hugs, when Virgil rests his head on his shoulder during movie nights, when they go shopping and there are crowds that make Virgil want to run for the hills and only Patton’s hand in his keeps him grounded there. Virgil is soft despite the jagged persona he puts on to drive away other people, and he hasn’t gotten any sort of touch in a while because he shuts up the moment that Patton’s own warmth floods over him.

The room holds the silence for an eternity: Virgil frozen halfway up from the ground, and Patton latching on to him like he can pluck all the reasons Virgil is upset out of his mind through osmosis. The lava lamp makes him look unreal, makes the silence ring louder, makes the lump in Patton’s throat grow larger.

“Virgil,” Patton says, “please.”

Please tell me what I can do. Please allow me to help. Please let me in.

“It’s stupid,” Virgil says.

Patton wants to laugh, because nothing that ever hurts Virgil has ever been stupid. “I don’t think so, kiddo.”

Virgil bites his lip and inhales with all of his chest.

“You didn’t go to any classes today. You’ve been crying. You’re still wearing yesterday’s clothes.” Patton says. “Something happened. And it can’t possibly be stupid because nothing that affects you like this is can be anything less than something huge.”

Patton feels Virgil’s hand curl into a fist like he can hide his shaking when Patton is right there .

“Do you remember Logan Ackroyd,” Virgil says. “The senior a year older than us who I had Sociology with last year?”

The same Logan who took extra notes for when Virgil missed class and emailed them to him. The same Logan who offered Virgil a granola bar when he overheard that Virgil had missed lunch. The same Logan who helped Virgil break into the auditorium after school hours to search for his missing earbuds.

The same Logan who has eyes more knowledgeable than the entire galaxy, who wears a tie to class, who smells like coffee beans and pen ink and looks like he’d give really good, safe hugs.

The same Logan who Patton has never once met, but feels like he knows intimately thanks to Virgil’s starstruck rambles.

Logan must be something great and amazing. Patton has known that for a year now, from watching the months slip away and suddenly the ghost of Logan joins them on every outing, summoned by the blush over Virgil’s ears and the soft smile on his lips and the way that Virgil steadfastly won’t meet Patton’s eyes like it will prevent Patton from noticing the way that the senior is always on Virgil’s mind. Logan is kind. Logan is smart. Logan has a new book every day. Logan has a voice like the ocean waves.

Logan, Patton thinks, should have been more careful if he caused Virgil this much distress. Because there are things that Patton would do for Virgil that not even a cold blooded killer would consider doing.

“Yeah,” Patton says, with a smile soft and dumb and innocent. “You guys have Analytical Science together this year, right?”

Virgil lets go of his lip, and breathes out a breath that sounds like more relief than Patton is supposed to hear. “Yeah. Yeah. He, uh… yeah.” Virgil shifts back down, shifts so that he’s on his knees and Patton is right next to him, and they’re still touching and that warmth is stronger than the shadows made by the blobs in the lava lamp.

“Janus… Janus asked him out yesterday,” Virgil says, using his other hand to pluck at a thread in his jeans.

Oh. Patton doesn’t think cookies and soup were enough.

And golly, Patton doesn’t think Logan is as smart as Virgil is always saying he is either, because if he said yes in front of Virgil, he must have been the stupidest person on the planet.

Virgil is quiet, dismissible, a shadow in his own skin even on his best days. But he is not un-noticeable.

He carries an aura around himself that storms and thunders and promises danger to those that get too close. His laughter is a threat first and a comfort second. His smile is a knife blade that even Patton sometimes wonders if he might find in his back one day. Virgil was someone that you noticed and you stayed the fudge away from.

Unless you were Patton, who hadn’t been afraid of Death from the moment he watched his mother cough up blood over the cards to CandyLand, watched his mother turn into a real-life game of Operation, watched her breathing get ragged and her fingers struggle to hold playing cards between them.

Logan hadn’t been scared away by Virgil’s thunder, and somehow he had weathered the storm that Virgil put up to protect himself and lived securely in the eye of the hurricane. And somehow he hadn’t noticed, hadn’t cared, had taken advantage of Virgil’s softening heart just to shatter it.

“He didn’t…” Virgil says. “Janus… he didn’t really mean it. I don’t think. It might have been a joke because they’re friends but Logan told everyone that he would only consider dating someone who could… could…”

“Could what?”

Virgil’s eyes flick down to the Trouble game board, to the pieces lost in chaos of the floor, to the box they hadn’t needed except for transport. Patton feels his heart thud in his chest before he crawls up his throat and he tastes it in his mouth along with the remains of the raw cookie dough he licked off the spoon while cleaning up.

Virgil’s words come back to him in whispers. But it’s not like I’m going to win. This is a sign, isn’t it? I’m just being stupid even considering it.

“Someone who could….” Patton says, “beat him in a boardgame?”

Virgil yanks the thread on his jeans sharply and nods without meeting Patton’s eyes. “I told you it was stupid.”

“Virgil,” Patton says. “This is great! We’ve been playing games together for years! You can beat--”

“That’s the thing!” Virgil says with his shoulders curling up to his ears and burying him in layers of excess fabric. “Pat, I can’t even beat you in a board game and I know all your strategies!”

“I don’t think that Trouble actually has any strategies. It’s really luck of the roll--”

Virgil peeks out of his hood enough to give Patton a miserable glare. “When was the last time I won against you, Pat? Be honest.”

Patton purses his lips. “I don’t think that’s fair, kiddo. I’ve been playing games since I was able to understand the rules--”

“You don’t even remember, do you.”

“It was Dominos and you won by twenty points.”

“Nice try, but you purposely miscounted and you actually won by two.” Virgil reaches out for another cookie and offers it to Patton without making any move to pull his other hand from Patton’s hold.

“You would have a lot more wins if you didn’t insist on not finishing games sometimes!” Patton says. “You never know the ending of a game until you play it out!”

“I could tell you that Logan was going to beat Janus in Chess the moment the opening moves were made,” Virgil counters. “He won in twelve moves and then the next game in six.”

Patton opens his mouth, but Virgil shoves the cookie in before he can actually say anything.

“And God Rest Remy’s soul because Logan obliterated him in Trivia Pursuit.” Virgil continues, “He turned Roman to mincemeat over Scrabble, and not only beat Remus in Poker, but won one hundred dollars off him too. I also watched him win in Othello against some kid he tutored in Calc, a game of Mancala with an art kid who was doing it for clout, and Stratego which he won before I finished reading the fuuuuuudging rules and made his opponent cry over it.”

Patton swallows down a bite of cookie that he didn’t not chew well enough because he feels it tear up his esophagus as it goes. Virgil politely ignores him dying for a second and offers him his own thermos of soup to help it down, before remembering that he’s supposed to be brooding and staring at Patton for too long makes him soft.

“Not to make a pun here, but no dice; I legitimately cannot beat Logan,” Virgil says. “He’s just… so good. At everything. What is the point in humiliating myself with this? Even if I find a game so obscure that he’s never heard of it and doesn’t have a strategy built for it, just going up to him and putting the board between us is like-- that’s telling him that I’ve had this massive stupid crush on him for ages and what if he doesn’t even like me? What if I win and then he has to date me because he said so but he actually hates me? What if--”

Patton coughs so hard he thinks he might have dislodged his own lung, which is fine!! Because at least it got Virgil to snap back to him and table his panicky spiral for later.

“Weren’t you,” Patton croaks, “Weren’t you already going to confess to him? You bought the chocolate kisses and you sent me pictures of them in your bag right before class last week.”

Patton can’t see Virgil’s ears because of his hood but he knows that they’re glowing red from the way that Virgil can’t meet his eyes again.

“I just….I did but then he….” Virgil nudges a pile of questionably clean band t-shirts with his socked foot. “He said he wasn’t interested because class was starting and I still don’t know if he meant an actual kiss or a Hershey kiss because he had to leave class early to pick up his kid brother from his middle school because he was sick with a fever and then I was too mortified to bring it back up-- See Pat, I can’t even come up with a creative way to tell Logan that I wanna listen to him ramble about jellyfish immortality and play with his hair or tell him that I wanna know what the flavor of his chapstick is-- which, by the way, I did say to him and he told me was cake batter and that I could find it at the corner drugstore because he thought I was looking for recommendations-- There is no way to subtly tell him that I want to date him.”

“Then maybe… don’t be subtle?” Patton suggests, and then points at the game between them. “Boardgame?”

Virgil scowls at the game like it had personally offended him. “But I can’t beat him. And if I lose and by some miracle he still wants to be seen with me, then he’d be breaking the very rules he set up and everyone else who lost is going to be pissed at both of us and I can’t do that to Logan.”

Patton bites back the then don’t lose that he wants to say. It seems so obvious to him. He doesn’t really see why Virgil doesn’t think he can win one single game. There isn’t even a rule that says Virgil can’t come back and play again-- which isn’t that the point of games? That you can play them for a little while, pack them up, and then come back to them later? That you sit down with friends-maybe-more and you play and have fun ?

Not for the first time, and not for the last time, Patton wonders why Virgil ever played games with him at all. He knows the first time was pity because he found Patton sitting on the floor of his bedroom with Trouble on the ground in front of him and staring at it numbly because he had cried all the tears out of himself already at the hospital, at the funeral, at the everything that had come after that he couldn’t remember. The first time it had been to get Patton to react because he had been so lost, but every time after that Virgil had made the conscious decision to pick up the pieces.

Even if sometimes he had put them back down halfway through and Patton hadn’t figured out how to convince him that the point isn’t to win as much as it is to have fun.

Virgil twists his wrist loosely in Patton’s grip so that he’s holding Patton back, his cold fingers somehow feeling comforting rather than startling. Patton has always loved that about him, although he’s never sure how that works. The coolness of his touch is familiar, but the vulnerability of Virgil reaching out is something newer, something special, something fragile and Virgil holds onto him like he’s expecting Patton to let go at any moment and Patton steadfastly refuses to let him drift off. Patton squeezes his wrist gently, lightly, softly.

I’m here. I’m not leaving. We’re in this together.

“I think that Logan can make decisions for himself,” Patton says with words so featherlight they barely move the air. “Remember the dominos? Any player can choose to lose, whether it be miscounting or it be refusing to finish the game in the end. But if you never even offer to play with him… Logan can’t make that choice, Virgil.”

Virgil holds his gaze for a moment, two, three, and there’s something in his eyes that shies away from the glow of the light, something slippery and weak and scared. Something that Patton is afraid to put a name to, lest it disappear from him forever.

Something that causes Virgil to squeeze his wrist back.

Together. Us. We’ve got this.

“So what game do you want to play with Logan?” Patton asks. “We can go look at my collection if you want? I loaned out Backgammon to a girl in my Shakespearean class, but other than that I have the usuals with me.”

Virgil takes a deep breath. “Can we…” He says. “Do it tomorrow? I don’t want…” He squeezes Patton’s wrist again and Patton can fill in the rest of the blanks with his own interpretations. He is, after all, fluent in Virgilese, as much as Virgil is fluent in Pattonish.

“Yeah, yeah,” Patton says and shifts through the piles of clothes that act as cushions so he’s right next to Virgil, pressing their shoulders together, leaning his head on Virgil’s collarbone, and reaching around him for another cookie. Virgil moves the tub between them and then pulls the Trouble game board in front of that.

He hesitates for another moment-- they’re missing two of Patton’s blue pieces to the floor, and one of Virgil’s purples to a pile of sweatshirts-- but the fact that Virgil drops forward and presses the bubble to roll the die makes Patton’s chest warm.

He gets a six, and then a four and that thing in his eyes seems to grow just a bit stronger.

That is, of course, when the rap music from next door starts up loud enough to shake the entire room and Patton wonders if Logan would still be up for playing a game with Virgil when he’s incarcerated for second degree murder.

Patton, at least, gets a hug out of it, when he tackles Virgil to the ground before he can get to the door, and he manages to coax Virgil back to their area, back to the floor, back to the game, and then later into the blanket-fort-and-movie-night that they watch with one earbud each and their foreheads pressed together late into the night.

***

Patton’s mother developed lung cancer when he was seven. He remembers it in vague flashes: the blood, the shakiness, her fall to the floor because they had never had any sign of it happening until it was too late to do much about it. He was told it was because his maternal grandparents both smoked a lot when she was growing up and she spent the weekends helping them around the house still.

The doctors said she had a year. She got eighteen months.

He barely remembers her face from his own memories anymore, all of them blurred and twisted by the passage of time that he almost got swept away in entirely. Her picture still hangs around the house, though, and he guesses he’s lucky in that regard. He liked how he could see her every time he passed by the stairs, even after his dad remarried and he had grown up and the telemarketers stopped calling the house to tell her that there was an interesting charge on the credit card she didn’t have anymore.

He still wakes up sometimes with his heart beating in his ears and his eyes blinded with tears and his lungs refusing to cooperate because of nightmares about forgetting her entirely, of seeing her stand up to call out to his dad, of seeing her cough out blood and then fall to the floor right in front of him as his dad is running down the stairs. He still wakes up and feels his heart aching where she might have once been if everything had gone just a little bit different. He still wakes up and wishes that he could go back to sleep because at least in his dreams she’s still there waiting with a deck of cards and a smile that says, “Alright, Buster, don’t think I’m going to go easy on you this time!”  

Usually those types of days he labels as “Bad Ones”, and he finds it harder to crawl from under his blankets to do pretty much anything.

Virgil knows immediately when he sees Patton staring at his black laptop screen that it’s a Bad One.

Patton loves that he knows not to ask, hates that Virgil can read him so easily, wants to cry because it’s been so long and shouldn’t the edges of that pain have gone away by now? He wants to pull Virgil’s purple comforter back over them and drift back off into the blissful warmth while pretending that the idea of a game right now didn’t make his hands shake.

She hadn’t left Patton specifically a lot of things, but the things that she had left him had been boardgames. Things that she had collected over the years and kept on a shelf in the study for them to play after work and school: Candyland, Trouble, Snakes and Ladders. She had a whole shelf for him when he got to an age where he could understand more complex concepts: Ticket to Ride, Pandemic, Mysterium, Star Realms, Settlers of Catan.

After she was gone… Patton had stared at that shelf and wondered if she had ever thought that maybe she wouldn’t get a chance to play some of them with him.

He wonders how many of them he could have beat her at, how many of them she might let him win in, how many of them they would love to play together and how many of them they would both play through once and then wrinkle their noses at because it wasn’t what they thought it was going to be.

He wonders and maybe it’s a bit too much because he’s stomach is rolling nauseously and he thinks that if he has to look at a game he’ll actually throw up this time.

Virgil doesn’t say anything, even as he gets up and Patton remains buried under too many blankets and the alarm on his phone goes off again for his morning class. The darkness is safe and warm and Patton thinks he understands why Virgil likes it so much as he closes his eyes and tries not to think of a woman who is long gone and in the ground.

“Breakfast?” Virgil whispers at some point.

“Cookies,” Patton mumbles back.

Virgil had carted a hand through his curls and then the door to the room had opened closed and locked behind him. Patton thinks that was nice of him-- to lock the door like he was protecting anyone from coming in and stealing his valuables even though Patton was there. Or maybe since Patton was there? Patton presses his head into a pillow that smells vaguely like chocolate cherries and black licorice and other things that screamed Virgil, and thinks that Virgil might consider Patton a valuable that needs to be protected and kept safe.

Sometime later Patton wakes up with Virgil lying beside him, headphones on and typing on his computer with one hand while dragging fingers through Patton’s curls with the other. It’s impressive of him by itself, but not nearly as impressive as the fact that Virgil’s hood is down and the blackout curtains are parted enough to bring in a decent amount of light.

Virgil blinks at him and removes one earmuff. “I read that flowers need sunlight to grow,” he says in lieu of explaining the rays of light cascading into the room over the two of them.

Patton wants to laugh, and thinks he might if it were any other day and not this one. He settles for a somewhat bent smile and Virgil reaches to somewhere he can’t see and brings back a muffin from the Campus Cafe.

“Chocolate Chip,” he says. “Which is like a cookie, but better because it’s a muffin and I said so.”

Patton can’t really tell if the tears that prick in his eyes are from the lingering sadness or the softness of just a simple gesture from his best friend. Maybe it’s both. Maybe it’s neither.

It’s a muffin, not something he should be crying over, and he repeats it even as he takes a bite from the top and Virgil pretends like he doesn’t see Patton scrubbing his cheeks as he chews. It’s a muffin, but Virgil got it just for him and Virgil came right back here and sat with him so he wouldn’t wake up alone and sad and and and--

And if Patton liked anyone romantically like that(™) he thinks he would have fallen straight into love with Virgil.

“Did you miss class?” Patton whispers.

Virgil shrugs. “Nothing important. I sent an email to my teachers saying that I wasn’t feeling too good and didn’t want to risk accidentally spreading anything to anyone, which already helps because I didn’t go to class yesterday and I’ve already turned in all my work for the week for most of my classes. Besides, you were here and I didn’t want to just leave you all alone-- what if Roman started playing his Disney compilations at 160 decibels again?”

“You like Disney, though.”

“I also like my hearing and my best friend,” Virgil says like it’s nothing, like it’s obvious, like it shouldn’t be making Patton tear up again because Virgil is just so nice.

“I’m sorry,” Patton whispers.

Virgil moves his computer and jostles around on the bed until they’re lying side-by-side even though the bed was definitely not made for two persons. He presses his head to Patton’s, and he’s cool and soft and safe.

Together. We got this.

“Your mom?” He asks.

Patton nods, with a lump in his throat that makes all the words he wants to say crumble to ashes on his tongue. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Pat,” Virgil says.

“But… Logan…”

“He’s not going anywhere,” Virgil says. “And, full offense, but no boy is going to be more important to me than you regardless of how fuuuuuuunkily hot he is. Funkily, yeah, sure, that’s a word that I definitely was going to say right there.”

Patton feels the laugh build up in his chest, against all the odds in the world, and it tastes like chocolate when it rolls out of his mouth.

Virgil bumps his shoulder, and grins. “Look, I’m trying here. Cursing is in my nature!”

“Thank you,” Patton says. For everything.

“No prob, Bob,” Virgil says. I would do it all all over again and never change a thing.

“I’m not Bob! I’m Pat!”

Virgil’s laugh is like the sun breaking through the clouds after a rainstorm, like a rainbow cascading through the sky, like being caught after a fall. Patton gets the energy to smile back when he hears it and that alone nearly makes him want to cry again.

Patton twists the blanket under him between his fingers and takes a deep breath. “Did you…” He says before pausing to swallow back the taste of his own stomach acids he’s not sure is entirely imaginary. “Did you pick a game? For Logan?”

Virgil’s nose twitches, which means the answer is a sound no. “It’s not that important right now. You’re not feeling up to--”

“ Vir -gil,” Patton says and Virgil’s nose twitches again.

They share a look for another minute, two, three, before Virgil exhales and looks away.

“Fine, fine,” he says. “I didn’t pick out a game yet. I actually saw him in the Cafe earlier with Janus and he waved, though, which was awesome until I waved back and forgot to look where I was going and walked straight into a glass door. At this point it’s going to be a miracle if Logan doesn’t laugh in my face when I ask him to play anything with me.”

“He won’t laugh at you,” Patton says and Virgil slides his arms up and crosses them so he can bury his chin in them like he doesn’t believe Patton at all. “From what you’ve told me, Logan is really nice isn’t he? And the other day didn’t you say that he went on a rant about Pluto being a planet? I think that’s just as silly as you walking into a door.”

Virgil hums to show he’s listening, even if he isn’t taking the words to heart as much as letting them filter through his ears. Patton licks the last of the chocolate muffin from his fingertips and blinks away the urge to hide away from the rest of the world when he spies the box for Trouble on the ground next to Virgil’s desk trash can.

Virgil follows his gaze to the box and he purses his lips, although Patton isn’t sure if its from the fact that he’s remembering that neither of them won last night, or if he’s thinking about odds of beating Logan again or if he, too, is thinking about ghostly fingers trying so hard to move playing pieces that they can no longer touch.

Patton rolls over and stares at Virgil’s ceiling instead, counting his breaths until he feels like the static between his ears isn’t going to overwhelm him.

“What game do you want to play?” Patton asks.

“I won’t win.”

“I didn’t ask what game you wanted to win,” Patton points out. “What game do you want to play against Logan?”

Virgil is quiet, but he sighs so heavily that Patton can see his bangs flutter out of the corner of his eyes.

“This is going to sound stupid,” Virgil says, and again Patton remembers that nothing Virgil ever says has ever once been stupid. “But I don’t want to play against him at all.”

Patton frowns, rolling his head to the side to take in Virgil’s gaze that is already looking at him. His dark eyes are there and the something in them that Patton doesn’t want to put a name to is there again, shining just like the rays of light between Virgil’s blinds.

“I mean I want to play a game with Logan, just not against Logan. It’s stupid, okay? I was just thinking about the cooperative games back at your house that we used to play with your dad and step mom-- you know like the Unlock , Escape-room-in-a-box games? Or maybe Flashpoint? Or Forbidden Island? I was just thinking how shit I am at making my own decisions in Pandemic and Logan is really good at strategy so I bet that working together we’d be able to beat any game.”

Patton breathes deeply, sharply, and tries to ignore the piercing pain in his chest at the mention of the games. Virgil winces like he wants to take the words right back out of the air and hide them somewhere where neither of them have to face them at all.

“I don’t…” Virgil says, “I don’t want to play against him and lose. I’d rather play with him and win. Again: it’s stupid.”

Patton closes his eyes, and sees the shelf his mom left him full of boardgames she picked out long before he was past chewing on building blocks, of him at eleven years old finally getting the courage to drag a kitchen chair to the case and pick out a game while Virgil stood by to make sure he didn’t fall and to remind him that it was okay if he didn’t didn’t feel strong enough to try, of the two of them sitting at the kitchen table with the game directions between them that don’t really make any sense because it there’s no directions on how to attack each other when his dad comes home early and freezes at the sight

He might not remember his mother’s face outside of photographs he doesn’t remember being taken, but he remembers clearly the softness of his father’s expression when he dropped into the seat next to them and asked if they knew how to play this one yet.

“It’s a cooperative game,” his dad said, with a voice shaking and eyes wet. “That means we all work together to get to the goal at the end. Each player is going to have a different superpower-ability-thing that they can do that will make it easier for us to win as a team.”

So no, Patton doesn’t think that it’s stupid at all. It’s hard to do things by themselves, it’s scary, it’s difficult, it’s frustrating. That’s why when Virgil is texting him that the world is ending because of a boy, Patton will always show up at his dorm with soup and cookies and a game for them to play together instead of telling him that he’s being dramatic and silly. That’s why when Patton is missing a woman who hasn’t been in his life for twelve years now, Virgil will always stay with him to remind him that he’s going to get through it, instead of telling him to suck it up.

It’s much easier to win when they’re on the same side.

And Virgil has only ever had fun when playing games that he wins, hasn’t he?

“Why don’t you?” Patton asks suddenly.

Virgil must have nodded off because he jerks suddenly when Patton speaks up, “huh?”

“Why don’t you play a cooperative game?” Patton asks. “What did Logan say specifically about the whole dating thing?”

Virgil rubs an eye and squints at him tiredly. “I told you, he said he would only date someone who beats him at a game. I don’t--”

“Did he say beats him, or beats the game with him?”

“Neither?” Virgil says. “He literally said to Janus very loudly, “I will only consider someone a viable romantic partner if they can win in a game with me.””

“In a game with me,” Patton repeats. “ In a game with me. Not in a game against me!”

It takes Virgil a long, breathless moment to comprehend it, but it’s clear the moment it hits him. Virgil jerks so hard that he tumbles off the bed entirely and to the ground in a fumbling of long limbs, blankets, dubiously cleaned clothes, and his computer-headphones combo. Patton yelps and leans over to check on him but Virgil doesn’t even look like he noticed.

“Holy Shit,” He says, “holy shit, Pat.”

“Language.”

“ HOLY SHIT!” Virgil yells, and then he laughs and covers his mouth like he’s trying to bottle up the sound. “Patton! Patton! He didn’t say against!”

Virgil’s eyes sparkle, the light through the window makes his dark hair shine and just looking at him Patton thinks he���s never once seen him so happy before, so delighted, so excited.

So full of hope.

The next thing he knows is that he’s sitting up and Virgil is wrapped around him in a hug so tight, so soft, so cool and wonderful that those pesky tears come right back to his eyes. Virgil hugs like he’s unafraid of anything for just this endless moment, like he’s never been unsure of physical touch before, like he’s done it a million times before and Patton shouldn’t feel his breath catch in his lungs lest he shatter this dream with an exhale.

He’s standing at the eye of the storm that is Virgil, and he’s never felt so safe before in his life.

“Thank you,” Virgil whispers, “I, uh, I’m sorry for the sudden hug--”

And then, of course, Remus’s music comes back with a vengeance that rattles the ceiling tiles overhead and makes Virgil hiss and break the hug. Patton thinks that he could forgive it, if it weren’t for the unmistakable sound Disney’s Mulan soundtrack also ringing in the air, like it was trying to be heard over the rap music. Dust sprinkles from the tiles overhead.

“I’m going to kill them both,” Virgil vows, but Patton is quicker. He lunges forward before he even knows what he’s doing and coils around Virgil as tightly as he can, and just hugs him, his best friend, the guy who’s always been there for him, and who deserved all the happiness that he could get.

“Pat?” Virgil says.

“If Logan doesn’t treat you right I’m going to make sure no one finds his body,” Patton says.

And Virgil’s laughter makes it sound like he doesn’t quite believe Patton, but that’s okay. Virgil is still looking for reasons to play a game if not to win, and Patton is still trying to find a game that makes him smile, and together they’re going to figure out how to get Virgil to win with Logan.

But for now the hug is good, and the company is nice, and they have the game Trouble packed away ready for the next time they want to play.

[nxrthmizu]

---

Prompt: ‘First Kiss’ 

Pairing: Daminette

Words: 1,562 Words 

A/N: ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST then fluff 

---

The first kiss. 

The first, special moment when two souls meet and use a wordless action to express their feelings for each other. Alternatively, it could be a completely spur-of-the-moment, thoughtless, and immediately regretted in the next moment. 

Because that’s what then fifteen-year-old Marinette’s first kiss had been like. 

Oh, she had regretted it the moment their lips touched, because she knew instantly they were two puzzle pieces that were clearly not meant to fit. She had stumbled backward, staring into Luka’s hurt, guilty aqua-blue eyes. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have taken advantage of the situation like this, I don’t know what I was thinking...” Luka’s smooth voice immediately erupted into an endless line of apologies. If Marinette was a normal-functioning human-being, she would cut him off and kiss him one more time, because who in their right mind would turn down a perfect, adoring, affectionate potential boyfriend like Luka? 

Only she wasn’t in her right mind. 

She knew it was eventually going to drive her to her breaking point. Adrien had come to her, time after time, asking for advice on how to woo Kagami. Any other girl would’ve refused to help instantly, steering clear of the repetitive heart-break that would’ve resulted from the blonde model’s constant onslaught of questions. 

Why did she have to be so soft-hearted for him, again? 

“Do you think she’ll like white or dark chocolate more?” He asked with a hopeless smile on his lips. 

She fumbled for an answer, mind drawing to a blank. She had mumbled a random, probably completely irrelevant and unbelievable excuse before running off like a coward, she thought to herself. Before she knew it, she had broken down crying in a park, sobbing the build-up of her pain and anguish until her breath caught and she had to stop to breathe. 

“Marinette?” 

The moment she heard her name roll off his tongue, she wanted to kill herself for the heart-break she had been causing a particular blue-haired guitarist. He persisted in caring for her, even after she had told him that she couldn’t find it in her heart to love him. He deserved so much more, especially since he was... Well, he was Luka. 

Her mind was screaming against her actions, but she collapsed into his arms anyway, crying out her sorrows. His hand patted her back comfortingly in a steady rhythm, soothing her in ways no one could. 

“I’m sorry, Luka...” She murmured quietly, hiccuping and still trying to find her breath after her fifteen-minute-long breakdown. 

“Don’t be.” He told her softly, fingers caressing her cheek and making her meet his eyes. 

The next thing she knew was that they were kissing. And then she was pushing him away, and there was so much hurt and guilt staining his eyes, but she just couldn’t find it inside her to love him. 

“I’m sorry.” 

---

Damian’s first kiss, on the other hand, had been of a similar affair. He had been fifteen then, in the period in which girls would lust after him restlessly, shamelessly, and without any thought towards how annoyed he was getting. He dreaded the day called ‘Valentine’s’... It was when the girls were at their worst. Someway or another, they all mustered u enough courage (Or stupidity) to approach him in hopes he would accept their... Crushes. 

“Don’t look so upset!” Jon chastised. “If you don’t want to eat the chocolate, you can always give it to me.” 

Damian rolled his eyes at his best friend’s antics, ignoring the buzz and annoyance the school corridors brought to him. As expected, there was a pile of chocolates and pink-themed gifts waiting in a pile by the side of his locker. 

“Take it, Jon. Take it all.” He told his friend nonchalantly. “Eat until you get diabetes. This whole stash can last you for six months.” 

“Damian!” 

The green-eyed teen clicked his tongue in annoyance, yelping in surprise. As he turned, the girl who had called his name lunged at him, furiously pressing her lips on his. On instinct, he shoved her away roughly, dropping to the floor and knocking out her legs. The girl squealed, taken by surprise. 

Students all around started to whisper, as they do, while Damian tugged out a tissue from his bag pocket, wiping his mouth furiously. “Jon, you wouldn’t happen to have a sanitiser, do you?” He snapped, anger and disgust blazing in his eyes. “I’ll have you know that I can sue you sexual assault.” His tone was venomous, and he relished in the pure terror in her eyes. “Let’s go, Jon.” He said coldly, turning on his heels without another glance at the girl, who had started crying as everyone else in the corridor either offered her sympathetic looks, laughed, or just rolled their eyes at her sheer stupidity. 

---

Five years after their individual first kisses, Damian and Marinette met for the first time, in the business class of Gotham University. 

Fortunately for the two of them, their first kiss together did not involve a girl crying. Instead, it went more along the lines of this: 

“Where are you going, Damian?” Bruce raised an eyebrow at his son, who was trying to be discreet while sneaking out, and was actually failing at said sneaking out. 

Before Damian could make an excuse, Alfred the great saviour popped out from the kitchen. “Master Damian is going out to meet his friend for a study date, I believe.” Alfred offered helpfully. “Master Damian, I have prepared some cookies for you and your friend to share.” 

Bruce spluttered. “A study date?” He screeched. Okay, maybe he did not screech, but he was surprised. 

“Yes, Master Bruce. Damian had been courting Miss Marinette for two months.” Alfred nodded with a proud tone in his voice. “You’re going to be late if you stay any longer, Master Damian.” He reminded helpfully, the green-eyed young adult excusing himself with a blush on his face. 

Bruce stared at Alfred, gaping. “Two months?” 

---

“My dad found out today.” Damian supplied helpfully, munching on one of Marinette’s macarons as the two of them mulled over Marinette’s various colour-coded notes and Damian’s typed and printed ones for their upcoming test. 

“That’s nice.” She hummed, popping one of Alfred’s cookies into her mouth. “How did he react?” 

“He screeched.” Damian scoffed. “Like you said he would. Here’s your ten bucks.” 

Marinette grinned triumphantly. “I told you he would screech!” The bluenette laughed victoriously, the green-eyed boy watching her fondly as he rolled his eyes good-naturedly. 

“Yeah, yeah. You win this one. I’m betting that once my brothers find out, chaos shall ensue. Once they find out, I’m going to hide you underground because trust me, it’s not going to be pretty.” He grimaced. “I’m surprised I managed to hide it this long.” 

“Alfred knew from the very beginning.” Marinette reminded him, flipping through one of Damian’s printed notes. 

“Alfred doesn’t count, he always knows. You can’t hide anything from Alfred.” Damian dismissed.

Marinette stuck her tongue out at him. “Just admit that you’re bad at hiding things from Alfred.” 

“I am not! It’s just that it’s really impossible to get anything past Alfred!” He defended. 

“You’re just being a sore loser.” She teased, laughing when he threw a stack of notes her way. “Now you’re playing dirty!” 

Damian made a face. “I just gave you ten bucks!” 

“That’s completely irrelevant!” 

At this, Marinette tackled Damian to the ground, pushing him down. They were already seated on the wide, open floor of Marinette’s apartment’s attic, surrounded by fluffy cushions and blankets, so their landing was soft. That wasn’t what they were concerned about, though. 

“Um.” Damian coughed awkwardly, not daring to move as he observed how Marinette was pinning him to the floor, one hand on either side of his face. A blush erupted across his cheeks. “Um.” He said, slightly louder this time. 

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut up.” She swatted at him playfully, the male taking his chance to turn the tables, throwing Marinette off him and pinning her down. 

“What a game changer.” He mocked, dodging the light slap Marinette aimed at him. “Gosh, you need to improve your aim.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

Silence fell in the attic, only the brief flapping of paper heard in the attic. Damian stared into the swirling, blue eyes of his two-month-long girlfriend. If there was one thing that had changed once he started dating Marinette, after the bluenette muttered up the courage to ask him out after their six-month-long, playful, constantly-throwing-insults-at-each-other friendship, it was that he started doing things without contemplating the results like a chess game. In a good way. 

In the same way, he pressed his lips to hers without thinking. 

When he drew back, both their faces were flushed, red painted across their cheeks. “There’s no hiding this one from Alfred, either.” He muttered after a moment, rolling off the bluenette when she burst into a laugh. 

“Cause you’re horrible at hiding things from him, just admit it~” She teased in a sing-song voice, laughing as he lunged towards her, tickling her sides. “Stop! We have to study for our- Test!” She laughed in between her words, bluebell eyes twinkling in happiness. 

Both their individual first kisses had not exactly been... Smooth, but to say that they were satisfied with their first kiss together was an understatement. 

---

@how-to-fuction-properly​ here’s your second request! Sorry it took so long :) 

- Cady 

[jinmindeulle]

the art of love | cs

pairing: choi san x reader ft. mentions of park seonghwa 

word count: 5.1k

genre: artist!reader, florist!san, exes to lovers au | angst, fluff

warnings: minor swearing

find ateez’s masterlist here!

enjoy ♥

How many deep breaths did I have to take to put myself together every time I started driving back to my hometown?

I think I stopped counting five years ago. It didn’t matter how many times I had done that, it had always driven me crazy.

But this time, it was worse.

“Please, text me when you’re on your way. Let’s meet at Jjinsong’s Café before going home. Be safe, love you!”

Yet, I couldn’t be mad. I missed my family too much to be upset over that. It’s been seven years, y/n, get over it!

I replied to my sister with a short message full of heart emojis and I put my phone inside my pocket. I started the car and glanced at my (ex?) apartment floor. Hope to see you empty when I get back.

Last time I visited my family’s home in Namhae, it was all tears and sad eyes. Making my way back to Seoul was one of the hardest things for me. However, every time I went back to the capital city, the driver’s seat was always taken by the same man, who at least tried to make my trip bearable by holding one of my hands when he could. But that day, I was the one driving, all alone.

I couldn’t break the news to my mother over the phone. She had gotten attached to him over the years. But she didn’t knew the whole truth, and honestly, going back to Namhae was way cheaper than calling my mom to tell her that I had rejected my boyfriend’s marriage proposal without second thoughts, and that my life was just a mess in general.

And I also needed to see her, my dad, my sister and my nephews. They were going to help healing my open scars. At least try to.

I picked a random playlist and kept it on repeat the whole trip. Fortunately, being a Thursday, the traffic was not that bad, especially at such an early hour. I really didn’t want to stay under that roof any longer. I felt miserable there. Why did I have to put it off that much?

“Why did you have to put it off that much?”

“I wonder exactly the same”

My sister looked at me with a raised eyebrow while she quietly sipped her coffee.

It had always amazed me how calm and collected Eunjung acted and reflected in situations like mine. She would never get upset unless it was the end of the world, and that hardly ever happened.

“I knew something was wrong since the last time you came home with him”

“But it was not that bad back then”

“You sure?”

“Well…”

He had been promoted a week before and his father had announced that he was soon going to retire, leaving him his position as CEO of one of the greatest companies in South Korea. It had easily gone to his head, and I wasn’t able to stand staying in the same room every time he brought that up.

“Maybe you’re right” I sighed, quietly stirring my own coffee. “I honestly don’t know, Jung. I didn’t like to think about it because it meant doing something about it. And I think I was way too comfortable living like that to try and change it.”

“And he made you do it”

“Pretty much, yes. I couldn’t get married to him. I don’t think I loved him enough to sacrifice what I wanted in life just for him”

“I’m glad you did that, y/n. It means you’re still chasing your dreams”

“I mean, yeah. I have always been. Not actively, but I kept dreaming about having my very own gallery, and everyone in Seoul wanting to have my art pieces on their living room’s walls.”

“Why not everyone in the country? Or in the world?”

“My dreams are more of the realistic type, Jung” I chuckled, munching my last chocolate cookie.

“How are you going to tell mom?”

“With your help?” I smiled innocently, trying to display the best puppy face I could master.

“And how do you want me to do that? ‘Hi mom, y/n here broke up with Seonghwa right after he proposed to her because it was not the life she wanted! Please don’t be that happy, it will break her poor heart!’”

“Eunjung! Please!” I begged “She won’t leave me alone and…”

“She will” my oldest and only sister interrupted me, smiling like the Cheshire Cat. “There’s been a rumour going around…”

“Wait, what’s going on?”

Eunjung sipped from her blue coffee mug and looked at me with the same innocent eyes I had displayed some seconds ago. Then, she quietly put the mug down and got closer to me over the wooden table, encouraging me to do the same. Once we were close enough to avoid being heard by the rest of the customers, she whispered in my ear.

“Rumour has it that Choi San is getting divorced”

I resoundingly sat back down, looking at my sister with a mix of weird emotions in my eyes. I hadn’t heard his name in ages. Not because I happened to not hear it, but just because I had deliberately asked my family not to bring his name up when I was around.

“Eunjung…”

“His wife cheated on him”

“Please, stop” I murmured, tightly closing my eyes, trying to get rid of the million memories that my brain decided to bring back after so many years of suppressing them. “You know how I feel about him”

“You’re telling me that after more than seven years you’re still upset about him and what you went through? You were like twenty years old, c’mon! You’re a woman now, y/n!”

“I was twenty two, and yes, I’m over it. But I don’t want to know, hear or talk about him. He’s dead to me. He’s been dead to me since the day I moved to Seoul, and will be until the end of my days”

“I didn’t know it was that deep”

“You were too busy taking care of your babies, Jung. And I’m not complaining here, I just know that you never got the full story, but it’s OK. It’s in the past now”

“You sure?”

“Stop making me question my life!” I cried, throwing a used paper napkin right at her face.

“What do you want me to say?”

My mom had always been understanding. She would calmly nod and hug me, telling me that everything was going to be okay, and letting me soak her blouse with my teenage tears. However, there were situations in which you could never guess what her reaction would be. And that was one of those times.

“Honey, I think we all knew that you were going to end things with that guy” my dad intercepted “but we weren’t aware of the fact that it was that bad”

“In all honestly, I wasn’t either” I murmured “it was just my routine. I had been waking up next to him for nearly five years. I had a job that let me live comfortably and not worry about anything else than buying expensive clothes every now and then because I was supposed to be accompanying Seonghwa in every fucking company’s party” I allowed me to cry for the first time, letting the pain and desperation out “I was living like a damn princess. But I never wanted that. I had never wanted that!” I sobbed. A pair of gentle arms held me tight, and I instantly knew that it was my mom. I hugged her back, holding onto her like she was the only oxygen mask available in a crashing plane.

“I know dear, I know. And I’m proud of you. You did what you wanted to do, because you should always do that. And it’s OK. It will never be a bad thing to follow your heart, y/n”

I nodded, drying the flowing tears with the back of my sleeve. “Thank you mom, dad. I love you”

“We love you too, darling” my dad affectionately kissed my cheek, chuckling when I showed him a weak smile. “Why don’t you take a shower while I finish preparing lunch? I bet your nephews want to see you as much as you do”

“Yeah, will do” I nodded, grabbing my large pastel purple suitcase. “I need to recharge before seeing those little demons”

The whole Thursday and the day before had been an emotional rollercoaster, so I expected to get the sleep I deserved. But sometimes things don’t go as planned. Just like my life, really.

The first night that I slept in my old room was just a blessing. No alarm clocks were rushing me out of bed, no angry faces were shaking me out of sleep, and no boring tasks were waiting for me in my office’s desk.  

“Aunt, wake up!”

I opened one of my eyes when the curtain was drawn and sunlight hit my face. I was about to bury my head in one of my pillows when the oldest of my nephews, Jiwon, took it away from me and slapped me with it.

“Mommy’s taking us to the park so we can have a picnic as breakfast!”

“And told us to wake you up so you can go with us!”

“Please, auntie! Wake up!”

I wanted to scream. I swear to God I loved those kids, but sometimes they made me think twice about having my own in the future. Yeah, well, it won’t happen anyways. You’re single now, and you’ll probably be forever.

“C’mon auntie! Or mommy will be upset!” Jihwan cried.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” I sat up, rubbing my eyes. “Go tell your mom that I’ll be downstairs in like 10 minutes”

“Okey dokey!”

Getting ready in the mornings was not my favourite thing to do. I liked to pick whatever was clean in my closet and wear it like it was a Prada dress. Nonetheless, it was never like that for me. I had to be well dressed. I had to wear the actual Prada dress. I just couldn’t choose.

But that day, I could.

After taking a shower, I took my old, worn out pair of jeans out of my suitcase and put them on.

“It’s been so long since I wore these jeans” I whispered, caressing the fabric.

Next, I chose a simple, colourful shirt that I myself had intervened years ago, and tucked it in. The most comfortable pair of sneakers finished my look.

“You look like you’re twenty again”

“Oh Lord Jesus, knock next time!” I shouted, startled by my sister’s voice.

“You’re back to being you. I like that” she smiled at me from the door frame. “But hurry up! These kids are driving me crazy down there”

Taking a look around that familiar yet so long forgotten park, made me feel emotional once again. That was the reason why I always tried to avoid it every time I decided to return to Namhae. My hometown brought back too many memories, memories that I had decided to erase seven years ago.

But I was tired of it. And at that moment, my future was uncertain — what I had always feared the most. Bringing back painful memories was nothing for me at that point.

“Fluffy is crazy!”

“Give it to me, Hwanie” I took the red dog leash from my youngest nephew’s hand, trying to prevent the huge dog from running around the park chasing the ducks, and probably throwing to the ground the old ladies that were feeding them. “When did this dog get this big?”

“We are feeding him puppy food that makes him stronger, auntie!”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t d… Fluffly!” the dog was able to release himself from the leash while I was giving wise advice, and started running towards the ducks, leaving us four way too far away to stop him before a massacre happened.

“Oh no!”

I reacted as fast as I could, although I knew I was way too late. My legs were not that fast, and even if they were, how was I supposed to have enough strength to pull him away from innocent ducks and old ladies?

Just when he was about to throw himself over the lake, a man in a black hoodie that covered most of his form took him from his collar and kept him under control. I kept running towards them, busy thinking about what that crazy dog would do to the stranger if he made a false step.

But I was stunned — and out of breath — when I found out that the beast was happily wagging his tail to the man, while he petted him. “Are you still misbehaving, Fluffy? Didn’t I teach you to stay calm near the ducks?”

“Uhm… hi?” I breathed out, trying to call attention to the man who still had his back to me. “The dog…”

“Are you still struggling to ta…”

My eyes watered in a matter of seconds. The man that I was successfully avoiding for years was standing right in front of me, looking the way I remembered him, like seven years had done nothing to him.

But he looked tired. Like he was going through hell and was needing a break from it all. His eyes had all the time shown his feelings, and back then, I was the only one able to read him like an open book. I knew in an instant that he was feeling like crap, but there was something else.

And maybe he was not the man that I used to know. Well, not maybe. He wasn’t the Choi San I had been in love with. The Choi San that I had cherished like no one else, who I had wanted to spend the rest of my life with and grow old together.

And I was not the same either.

“I…”

“It’s been so long” he sighed, looking me in the eye. I felt intimidated. I had forgotten how powerful his glances were, no matter the situation. He had always managed to do that to me, and I wasn’t ready to go through it once again. I had been invested in studying his glances way too many times in the past, and I was never able to reach a reasonable conclusion. So I just settled for leaving that matter alone.

“Yeah…” I exhaled, playing with the read leash in my hands.

“I didn’t know you were visiting your family”

“You know when I come here?”

“Of course I do. Everybody knows. It’s a small town, y/n”

I closed my eyes tightly upon hearing my name leave his lips. I felt like crying all over again, and I wasn’t willing to let him see me like that anymore. He had had enough of it. We both had.

“Should have guessed it” I nodded, looking down and avoiding his gaze. “Can you give me Fluffy back?”  

“Oh yeah, sorry” he petted the dog for the last time while I secured the leash back on his collar “He’s been misbehaving a lot lately”

“You know him?”

“I helped Eunjung a couple of times with him. She told me it’s been hard to keep him quiet when they take him out to the park so I offered to help. I need to take a break from life sometimes, and he’s great company”

“He seems to like you a lot” I smiled weakly, looking down at the happy dog who was still wagging his tail while looking at San with what seemed like adoration.

“I think so, yeah” he giggled softly, petting him once again. “He’s nice, but he needs some rules before it goes out of hand”

“I’ll make sure to tame him, then”

“You’re staying?” I mustered all of my courage, and looked up to meet his eyes. His voice tone had changed tremendously, but I wasn’t sure what that meant. This was a new Choi San for me after all.

“For some weeks, yeah. I still don’t know how many, to be honest”

“You’re on a little vacation with your boyfriend?”

“I…” I was about to reply, but then it just hit me. I was talking to Choi San, the man that had marked my whole existence with burning, hurtful words. He had given me everything and taken it away from me as fast as he could. So no, I was not giving him explanations. “Yeah. Well, goodbye, San.”

And I left as fast as I got there.

After my encounter with San, I kept thinking about him and everything that happened in those years together. Not only the tragic ending, but also the beautiful things. And that made me realize that I could at least get part of it back.

Although Eunjung saw everything, she didn’t bring it up. She knew that I was struggling — and I’m pretty sure she heard me that night.

So while a soft breeze accompanied me as I was watching the night skies in the petit balcony of my room, I decided to make my way towards the basement to find the boxes full of the stuff I had left there and never used ever again. Many oleos were dry and unusable, but some others seemed to be just fine. I took one of the empty canvases and my easel as well as my collection of paintbrushes, and went back to my balcony.

“How had I missed you” I whispered, looking at my empty canvas. Tears gathered in my eyes, and a sad smile appeared on my lips as they rolled down my cheeks. “I really missed this”

But although I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to do anything more than a soft stroke which was supposed to be the very same night sky above me.

My hand didn’t respond. It was painful.

So I let it all out. My desperate cries were most probably heard around the neighbourhood, but that was my last concern. The only thing that was supposed to make me happy turned out to be a total failure.

I had no purpose. I had ruined my career as a painter years ago. Why would I paint a night sky that would be seen by no one but me? That would be recognized by no one but me?

San was right.

He had been right all along.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you ran into San yesterday?”

Mornings at home were usually not that noisy, but that day it had to be. My mom had organized a tea party with her girlfriends, and I was supposed to help her out as the only one who was free around the house. My dad was out of town for the weekend because of work, and my sister decided to go out with her sons, probably trying to get away from our mom’s demands.

“Eunjung told you?” I sighed, mixing the cupcake mix faster than I was supposed to so that I could get out of there.

“Yep” she nodded.

“I don’t want to talk about him. You know he’s dead to me”

But even though I said it bluntly, I was feeling like that sentence had no meaning to me anymore.

“You’re being too rude, y/n”

“I’m being honest, mom.” I stopped my eager mixing and looked at her, supporting my weight against the kitchen counter, and crossed my arms over my chest. “I know you and everyone in this town love San. But I don’t, and I don’t want to talk about him anymore. Please”

“Fine” she sighed “Then lend me a hand with the stra— oh Dear God!”

“What’s wrong?”

“I was supposed to bake a strawberry cake but I totally forgot about buying the strawberries”

I rolled my eyes. Totally my mom’s behaviour. “I’ll go to the supermarket. Anything else?”

I shouldn’t have asked that.

Making my way down the aisles, I struggled to find everything that my mom asked me to buy.

“Where the hell are these fucking powders?” I murmured, slowly walking with my cart and carefully reading each package. “Well, not here”

I looked in front of me to check the signs over the aisles, but my eyes encountered something very different.

A painted night sky.

I knew that painting. I knew that night sky.

Those soft strokes and the shiny details on the moon were familiar. Too familiar.

Of course. They were mine.

And once I understood that I was not looking at an actual painting but the back of an intervened denim jacket, it all came crushing down once again.

But I didn’t have enough time to run away.

He turned around and saw me. I froze like I hadn’t just seen him the day before. My eyes became glossy once again. Keep it together, y/n!

“I thought that yesterday was a coincidence. But I don’t believe that anymore”

San was right in front of me now, a couple of meters away from me. He was carrying some instant noodles in his hands and a bottle of water.

“Let’s not do this, please” I shook my head, tightly gripping the cart’s handle.

“We need to talk, y/n”

“There’s nothing to talk about, San” I gasped, avoiding his eyes.

“If your eyes keep watering whenever you see me and my heart keeps pounding whenever I see you, then yes, there’s a lot of talking to do” he calmly stated, taking a step closer to me “I know you have been avoiding me, and I cannot blame you alone. I also had whenever I knew you were around. But this needs to stop” he sighed “I am aware of the fact that you’re in a relationship and I don’t int—“

“I’m not” I interrupted him, looking at him in the eye “I left him. That’s why I’m here”

“I’m… I’m so sorry to hear that” he said, and I could clearly see the sincerity in his eyes.

“It’s okay…” I whispered.

“Can we please meet so we can finally say whatever we have to say to each other before you leave?”

“San, I… I find it really hard to talk to you” I came clean, playing with the ends of my shirt “You hurt me a lot, and… and I really don’t want to keep digging in the same old scars. But maybe…” I took a deep breath “Maybe it will help to finally close them”

He nodded “I know, y/n. I need this. We need this”

“What about your wife?”

I just had to ask. He knew about me and Seonghwa, so it was only fair.

“It’s a long story, but in a nutshell, I’m divorcing her”

“I’m so—“

“Don’t bother” he shook his head, chuckling with a noticeable pain in his voice “I’m not sorry, so no one should be for me. Especially you.”

I don’t know why I was so nervous. It was just San. Choi San, that beautiful, talented and perfect man.

And that was the problem.

Choi San had always been a mystery. A simple mystery. Back then, he liked to show me that he needed to wear nothing more than a dazzling smile to make my day better. He used to take me out at night to stargaze because he thought that I could find inspiration up there.

“You need to paint these, baby” he had said “I know you’ll do an outstanding job”

And of course I painted them. Every single one of them.

“Could you pretty please paint this same sky on the back of my denim jacket?” he had asked.

“Why do you want me to do that, Sanshine?” I had chuckled, looking up from his chest so that I could see his stunning features illuminated by the stars.  

“Because today I feel like I could do anything I want with my life. I have you, so that’s enough” he had replied, sweetly kissing me afterwards.

I hadn’t been enough, though.

My thoughts were abruptly interrupted when I felt his sweet perfume coming near me. I turned my head to my right, and I was able to distinguish his slender form from afar. He was still wearing that denim jacket and carried a large envelope in his hands.

“Hey there” he softly smiled.

“Hi San” I replied, trying to get rid of any sign of desperation in my voice.

“Do you want us to stay here or you prefer to go where used to… hang out?”

“I’m perfectly fine here” I sat back down on the bench, and he cautiously did the same, both of us in each end of it. The evening was warm and a nice breeze hit our faces. Although there were no stars yet, they were on their way.

And I honestly wasn’t ready to stargaze with San.

“Shall I start by saying that I am truly sorry?” after some minutes of silence, San broke the ice. “I never meant to hurt you like that. But I know that saying sorry now it’s meaningless. I just want you to let it all out, say the things that you wanted to yell at that 23 year old me but you never got to” the sorrow in his voice was evident, and I believed him. I felt how sorry he was for what he told me that night.

But it still haunted me. So I had to tell him.

“You ruined my dreams, San.” I whispered, already feeling hot tears go down my face. “You were my only fan back then. You encouraged me to keep going, practising, learning, and experimenting. But that night… you just threw that away. Why would you tell me that I was never going to be successful? Why would you yell right at my face that I was talentless?” I sobbed “That my paintings were nothing special and that I would never become a renowned artist if I kept painting night skies, when you were the one who encouraged me to do that in the first place?” And just as he wanted me, I let it all out. “You buried my dreams. You crushed them and you even made sure to throw them to the trash before leaving. I hated you for so long! I despised you! You were my best friend who suddenly became my worst enemy. But why? I just want to know that. I don’t care if you still think that my paintings were garbage. That’s my last concern” I sighed, violently drying the still falling tears “I just want to know why”

I looked at him, and it made me feel a little bit better to know that I was not the only one crying about it. Although he kept silent, his cheeks were soaked, and his eyes reddened and puffy. “You were talking about leaving Namhae” he whispered, looking down at the grass that surrounded us “and I couldn’t go with you, so I just needed you to stay. But after you moved to Seoul, I realized that I was being selfish and that I thought of my happiness over yours. I was going to be happy if you stayed with me, working at the flower shop and painting night skies as a hobby. But you would never have been if you did that” he cried, letting out a sorrowed and choppy breath. “And for the record, I never meant those words, y/n. I never believed that, and I know for a fact that I’m still your number one fan. You are the most talented person I know. You are amazing, and you more than anyone in this world deserve to be recognized out there. I’m so sorry for making you believe the opposite.”

I stayed silent, processing San’s explanation.

If we just had talked it out back then, maybe, just maybe…

“We were young and stupid” I finally replied. “I was trying to get out of Namhae to become an artist and I tried to take you with me. You were building your flower shop here and you tried to make me stay. It was never going to work out even if we tried” I reasoned, getting closer to him.

“But I shouldn’t have said that anyways” he shook his head “I prevented you from pursuing your dreams”

“I was stupid enough to believe that and stopped trying. I should have kept painting despite your words. I now see it” Slowly, San raised his head and looked at me in the eye. I weakly smiled at him, taking one of his hands for the first time in seven years. “I’m sorry too, San. I blamed you for my misery when I was the one who had to go after my dreams anyways”

“We both fucked up. But it’s on the past now, and we’re still young” he tightened his grip on my hand and shook the mysterious envelope with the other “I don’t know about you, but I just came from my attorney’s office. I’m officially divorced”

“I can’t believe our lives turned out this way” I quietly laughed, playing with San’s fingers. “If you had asked my 20 year old self, I probably would have said we were having our own house full of flowers and paintings by now, and why not add a couple of wedding rings. I was delusional”

“Not really, y/n. I expected that as well” his free hand softly caressed my cheek, travelling down to my jaw. He carefully grabbed my chin, making me look at him. I felt my eyes watering again, and San raised an eyebrow, showing me his confused gaze “Is there something wrong, baby?” he whispered.

I let out my tears, because I wasn’t trying to hide them from him anymore. “I’m just happy” I replied “I used to think that seeing you again was a mistake. That living in my luxurious Seoul apartment with a man that I no longer loved was what I needed to live the decent life that I was supposed to have. And now I know that it was just me trying to supress the urge that I had to come back to you. Because despite the horrible ending, you made me be who I am today. You loved me endlessly, San. And I hope you still do” I admitted, blushing like I was that 20 year old once again “Because I know I never stopped loving you, Sanshine. Even when I hated you the most”

He replied in the most beautiful way. A sweet, awaited, and loving kiss.

Although it wasn’t, it felt like the first time. No rushing, no hurting. Just love.

The love that I was waiting to get from someone that actually never loved me like San did.

The love that San was waiting to get from someone that actually never loved him like I did.

The love that we both deserved to get after so long.  

— jinmindeulle ♥ 

[itisannak]

Play Pretend (Calum Hood Fluff)

Summary: Calum and (Y/N) get along like cats and dogs. Based on Love Prompts #48: "Will you shut up for a moment and let me kiss you?" & #59: "What? Can't I just look at you?" (Request) (Words: 2.1k)

"I made fresh coffee for anyone who might want some." Calum announces as he walks into the conference room. "(Y/N) brought our Starbucks order already." Ashton comments, raising his paper cup in the air. "I brought yours too. Almond milk with a little brown sugar, right?" I ask him, smiling softly at the man who is looking at me with a furrow. "I'll have the one I made myself." He spits out, dragging his chair out and sitting on it while he brings his mug to his lips. "Calum..." Ashton mumbles under his breath. "What? How do I know she didn't poison my coffee? How do you know she didn't poison yours?" He asks, making me chuckle at his paranoia. "Oh, we are going back to your asshole days again?" I blurt out, rolling my eyes as I fix my posture. "Not again with this bullshit." Ashton groans; it is tiring for me even, always having a quarrel with the dude who can't accept the fact I will be opening for him. "What? I am just saying, I don't know that woman. None of us does." He shrugs his shoulders at everyone. My eyes go wide and I am taken aback, really not knowing how to react to him right now. "You really are a douche." I state, blinking unconsciously. He stares at me for a moment, the whole room going silent just as the executives walk in the room. I really don't know why this dude is so fucking aggrieved. He has been like that since he met me, which is so confusing because all his friends and acquaintances have been taking my ears off about what a great and lovely guy he is.

"Hey, (Y/N)... Can you wait a second?" Luke calls after me, making me stop in my tracks. "Luke, I really need to put food in my stomach, or else I am going to eat all of you alive when we walk back into the conference room." I state and he chuckles. "May I join you?" He asks, pointing at the elevator door. "Sure." I reply, smiling at him softly. "So..." He begins as we walk towards the elevator. "So..." I repeat and stare at him. "About Calum..." He goes on, scratching the back of his head. "I really don't want to hear whatever you have to say about him." I let out and he sighs. "I know. But he really isn't like that... Usually at least. He is very sweet and caring, a total love bear if I am honest. I don't know what is going on with him." He does the whole song and dance I've heard a million times this far. "Well, it is a little hard for me to see that. He is a total jackass to me, in case you haven't noticed." I sass, crossing my arms in front of my chest. "A little hard not to notice. But I don't know why he is like that with you. It is like you bring the worst in him." He explains but cringes as soon as the words leave his mouth. "Gee, thanks for that, Hemmings." I reply, pressing the elevator button. "That's not how I meant it. I am sorry." "I know what you meant. But this is a bunch of bullshit. I tried to be nice to him, I tried to bite my tongue, but he is insufferable, and I never really did anything to him. So, I really don't want to hear what a great dude your friend is, because he is really not, at least not to me. I deserve better from him." I shrug my shoulders, earning a nod from him. "I know you do. And he is going to get an earful about him being so mean, I promise." He assures me, making me sigh. "Look, I just want a calm tour. There is enough drama in my life, I don't need that in my work-life as well." I state. "We are all going to talk to him and I promise he is going to apologize." He holds his pinky up, making me chuckle. "It's going to be quite an experience touring with all of you..." I chuckle, shaking my head at him.

(Calum's POV) "Are you going to continue being an asshole to (Y/N), you dipshit?" Michael scolds, taking a seat across from me as I munch on my cookie. "I am not an asshole." I protest, but he scoffs sarcastically. "Dude, you accused her of poisoning our coffees. It's just coffee, say thank you, and drink it. She is really kind and you are a huge dick to her." He exasperates, but I just hum. "You know I am right. We don't know what she wants from us." I reply but earn the most disappointed look from him. "We want something from her. She has a solid fanbase and a profile that fits ours. She is a great choice for the opening act. Stop treating her like shit." He points out, making me sigh. "I am really not... Fuck, I don't know what is going on. She is just... Frustrating." I let out, shrugging my shoulders. I just stare at my cookie, avoiding Michael's questioning gaze. "Frustrating, huh?" He asks, his voice becoming teasing and cheerful. "Yeah. Like, she gets me out of my head without even trying." I groan and Michael continues smirking, which makes me look at him confused. "I think wittwe Cawum has a clush." He coos at me. "Stop babying me." "Stop acting like a little baby with a crush. It is gross and toxic. Man up and just, ask her out. Don't pull on her pigtails." He states confidently. "I am not pulling on her pigtails. And I don't have a crush on her. She is just... Obnoxious..." I stutter but Michael seems unconvinced. "And pretty. And awfully close to your type. So, suck it up like a big boy and admit that you like her, but your defenses are up so you are trying to make up excuses to convince yourself she is repulsing." He explains, tilting his head to the side. "Who died and made you the head of psychoanalysis?" I ask him and he just shrugs. "Freud." He sasses.

(Y/N's POV) The night is chilly but the crowd inside the house is not really fitting for me. There is noise, and loud, thumping music which makes my ears kinda hurt, so I excused myself from the company. Michael's birthday is a great opportunity to celebrate him and the upcoming end of the tour, but my blues are not fitting in with the party. So, the breeze that is hitting my face, along with the bit of the peace and quiet the balcony is offering me, makes me feel calmer, more at home, even though I am miles away. "Drinking alone?" I hear someone ask, making me jump as my blood freezes in my veins. I turn to locate the voice, finding Calum walking closer to me. "Is that bothering you as well?" I ask him, cocking an eyebrow at him. He chuckles, stopping next to me and leaning on the rail of the balcony. "Care if I join you?" He asks me, making me shrug. "Look, dude, I really don't need you offending me again. So, if you are here to jab at me to make yourself feel better, please, just go." I state, not even looking at him. I hear his breath hitch, but he stays motionless, still leaning against the rail.

There is silence among us, the only thing heard is the music from the party, muffled by the closed windows. I turn my head to look at Calum, to find out what he is doing, only to find him staring at me. He doesn't take his gaze from me when I catch him looking, which makes me look at him with a frown. "Alright, what are you looking at?" I ask him, coming off more like an attack than I intended to. "What? Can't I just look at you?" He asks, shrugging his shoulders. "No." I reply and he cocks an eyebrow. "No? Who is prohibiting me?" He asks, taking a swig from his cup. "Me. Every time you look at me, you end up saying hurtful things. And I really don't deserve it. Especially tonight." I explain. He just sighs in disappointment, looking at his hands for a moment before bringing his eyes to mine. "You look pretty tonight." He shrugs, still not looking away from me. "What happened, Hood? Did you run out of girls to hit on and stoop low to my level?" I ask with a chuckle, but he looks at me so softly, that the smile freezes on my face. "You were always the one above me. And no, you are the only girl I am hitting on tonight." He says confidently. "How much did you drink?" I ask but he hums sarcastically. "None. I have been drinking soda all night." He replies, showing me his cup. "You have been a bitch to me until now. Why hit on me tonight?" I ask him. "I figured out that being mean to you didn't make me like you any less." He shrugs, making me squint at him. "I know. It was an asshole move on my behalf, and totally toxic, so I am sorry. Look, I don't mean to upset you, I just wanted to let it off my chest and apologize. I hope we won't be awkward for the last few shows." He says softly, making me feel the honesty in his voice. "I'll see you around, I guess." He says, waving me off before he walks away from me. His shoulders are slouched and he walks away slowly, and for some reason, I stay speechless over his little confession.

After that night, Calum and I have been awfully awkward. Everyone is whispering around after our every and each of our interactions, which only makes things more awkward than they should be. And now, after the last show is done and while everyone is having a small party backstage for the end of the tour, my insides have been itching me. My heart wants me to move and talk to him, but my body and mind just tell me to bury this inside me. He looks so sad, sneaking peeks at me from across the room as he talks with someone from his crew. I bite my lip and take a deep breath, making sure my chest puffs up from it before I shake myself off and drag my feet towards him. "Can we talk?" I ask him once I am standing before him. He looks up to me from his seat, nodding his head before he gets up. "Sure." He replies, letting me guide us somewhere private.

We reach the empty dressing room, and I make sure I close the door behind us before turning to look at him. "Listen, (Y/N)... If you want to talk about what I said the other day, we don't have to address this. I just wanted to let it out, we don't have to say anything more now. I know you are probably feeling, I don't know, awkward about what I said, but you don't have to say anything, we are fine, I promise." He mumbles, making me roll my eyes at him. "Will you shut up for a moment and let me kiss you?" I ask him, making him look at me with a furrow. "What?" He asks me back, still confused which only makes me smirk at him. "Not the sharpest tool in the den, huh?" I wiggle my eyebrows, leaning up to bring my lips on his. He is taken aback for a second, just a second though, before he brings his arm behind my back to support me and bring me closer to him. I am tightly pressed against his body, feeling his chest inflate and fall as we kiss. I push us back until he is sitting on the little couch of the room, not breaking the kiss, until I am straddling him. My hands cup his face, fingers tracing his cheeks as we both deepen the kiss. His lips are soft and plumb, and he makes such cute little sounds as we kiss that make me wanna get drunk on him. His fingers are toying with the belt loops of my jeans, carefully not to even touch the skin exposed by my top rising. Which quite frankly, makes him look really hot. "You are a great kisser, have you been told?" He asks me, parting from me to catch his breath. "Yeah... But never by someone who's a greater kisser than me." I reply, making him chuckle. He brings his hand to the back of my head, bringing his lips on mine now, while he smiles against them. "You smell so good." I moan, throwing my head back and causing his lips to slide down my neck. "Do I, now?" He mumbles, lips still on my skin. "So good." I whine, aching for him to find my sweetspot. The music is thumping against the walls, while Calum and I sync to it, moving our lips to the rhythm. It feels nice, like we have come a long way in just a couple of days, and that really makes me warm and fuzzy on the inside.

My Masterlist

[the-dragons-knight]

FFXIV Write 2021

Prompt #14 - The Dragon Queen

<Post-Heavensward MSQ, Post-Dragonsong War, Slight Spoilers ahead>

Commend - ‘to present, mention, or praise as worthy of confidence’

————————————————————

“That sounds like it must have been so scary, but also like an amazing journey,” Maelie smiled up at Katsum as she petted the small dragonet in her arms, “To have visited another world…it sounds so very strange, yet so fascinating!”

Katsum smiled back as she handed Midgardsormr, who sat on her shoulder, another piece of the cookie she had in her hands, “It was quite the adventure, there is no denying that for certain.”

Ever since the day the True Brothers began their attack on Ishgard and took the refugees of the burnings in the Brume as hostages, the same day that Maelie was dropped from the top of the Vault and Katsum jumped after her only for both of them to be saved by Vidofnir, they had been good friends ever since, especially as Maelie began to have a fascination with the Dravanians. And who better to answer any questions she might have than the ‘Queen of Dragons’ herself. Katsum grew fond of the young girl and told her as many stories and tales that she could remember in hopes to share the beauties she’d seen of the world to another who could scarcely even have dreamed of seeing such things not so long ago. Each time she came home to Ishgard from a journey, she would seek out Maelie or the young girl would find her and they would walk the city’s streets as they talked, waving hello to all they passed by and marveling at how bright and cheerful the city had become since the end of its long war. There was still much to be done to make the nation whole again, the progress so far was still so beautiful.

The dragonet in Maelie’s arms purred as it butted its head against her hand, as she scratched its scales, “You’ve seen so many amazing things, Katsum. I would love to see the Churning Mists one day, and the vast and endless seas of water, but I imagine not all things were so beautiful and good…”

Katsum chuckled softly, “You are a smart girl, Maelie. Always have been. Yes, it’s true, but,” She looked at her seriously, “Don’t let that stop you from going to find your adventures. There are far more precious and wonderful things out there to outweigh the bad.”

Maelie nodded, “Right!”

“And next time Vidofnir, you should ask her if she can show you the Mists, I am sure she would be happy to.”

“Really?! Oh yes, I certainly shall! Ah, I’m so excited just thinking about it!”

Katsum laughed at the giddiness of the young girl as it reminded her very much of her younger self which only made her smile more brightly. They soon made their way to the aetheryte plaza in Foundation, still talking and laughing as the snow fell softly around him. Katsum’s feline ear twitched at the sound of a very familiar voice speaking not far away and she turned her sapphire eyes to lock onto the royal blue regalia of the Lord Commander, and a warmth fluttered through her chest as she smiled brighter. Sure, she had seen Aymeric this morning and every morning since they were married, but that didn’t mean her heart ever stopped fluttering when she would see him. As they approached him and Lucia, who was standing behind him, she noticed that he was speaking to a Lalafellan man and young woman, who were both dressed in fine robes and furs of an Ul’dahian fashion. Curiosity swept over her as she and Maelie moved in closer.

“Ah, good morning Lord Aymeric and Lady Lucia,” Katsum mused sweetly as she smiled brightly at them, her tail swaying happily behind her.

Aymeric’s ice blue eyes warmly met hers as he too smiled, “Lady Katsum, there you are good morning. And a good morning to you as well Maelie, Midgardsormr.”

The little dragon just nodded slightly as he continued to munch on his piece of cookie while Maelie nodded her hello.”

The paladin woman turned her head in question a bit, “Were you looking for me? Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all, but I was about to search for you yes. You see—”

“I can explain myself from here, Lord Aymeric, if you’d like,” The Lalafellan man rudely interrupted her beloved as he stepped forward with a grinning smile on his muschasted face, making a sweeping bow before her, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Katsum. My name is Aguda Kesuguda, head of the stock and trade of Kesugu Industries of Ul’dah. Before I begin, I really must commend your undeniable strength and poweress on the battlefield. I’ve heard many tales, and while I have not seen them for myself, they never cease to send my heart aflutter to recall them, yes yes!”

The miqo’te narrowed her eyes slightly as her smile shrunk into a rather small and fake expression of kindness, shifting her posture into a more regal and defensive stance; the posture of a queen. This did not go unnoticed by Maelie as she took a step back and watched cautiously. Aymeric too noticed, yet he didn’t not say anything, only sighed at the interruption and eyed the noble.

“Yes, I believe I’ve heard your name mentioned before in brief passing. ‘Tis a pleasure, yes, yet what is it that you sought me out for?” She knew that pleasantries from a merchant of Ul’dah meant only one thing: they wanted something done for them. She had not the patience or care for such games either.

Aguda grinned and shrugged, “Ah yes, a woman of action, of course. Forgive me, it is but the habit of nobles to win over the other with flattery, but you and yours here I see are far too smart to play in such nonsense.” Katsum just stared at him and he cleared his throat, “…more so than I thought too. Ahem, I came to beseech you aid in a most urgent matter. I have a shipment of resources and supplies I am trying to transport to the warfront, and every time it begins to leave on its journey to Ala Mhigo, it has been attacked by bandits trying to steal its contents! It’s not been anything terribly dangerous of course, but I wondered if I could ask for your assistance in protecting it to its destination. Or rather, one of your dragons.”

The group stilled and Katsum’s eyebrows arched in confusion, “ I beg your pardon? And please do not repeat yourself, it is just an expression of my astonishment.”

The noble nodded, “Of course, of course. My reasoning for such a request is that while I could hire a group of mercenaries to protect the cargo, such beings can be unsavory themselves and cost right much gil you understand. But dragons are loyal and ask for nothing, with just a word from you and they fly to your beck and call. And what better way to show your power as a queen than having one of your subjects deliver rations and supplies to the soldiers and people of a wounded nation, hmm?”

There would have been a time that Katsum would have shouted at this man that he knew nothing of dragons and nothing of her throne, and to leave their city before she threw him out herself, but instead, she remained quiet and listened to his greedy words with that simple expression of thought on her face.

Aguda seemed to take that bait as a sign of winning her over as he continued, “So, what do you think? Could you spare a dragon to help out a poor old merchant deliver his wares to those in need?”

She saw Aymeric narrow his eyes, “Would they not appear to be supplies from Katsum herself then if a Dravanian were to be protecting them rather than from you yourself Lord Aguda?”

Aymeric had already caught on Katsum knew, and luckily he was laying out the road for Katsum to ride down as Aguda answered.

“I suppose they would, but I have little worry for that. As long as they get the resources they are due, yes? Plus, they would be packed in crates bearing my seal so a bit of publicity for everyone, hmm?”

It is a very interesting suggestion, my lord, but first I must ask,” Katsum clasped her hands in front of her as she asked, “Are these provisions truly yours?”

Aguda froze in that moment and her eyes sparkled silently; she had him, “Whatever do you mean by that, my lady?”

Katsum smiled to herself as she feigned a curious and oblivious expression, “Pray, forgive me for causing such upset, but I had heard the most awful rumor of stolen goods and provisions meant for refugees of Ul’dah recently, and even more unsettling takes of the people trying to take them back from the thieves only to be injured and then arrested on false charges. As some of those provisions were ones that Ishgard and Dravania both had traded with Ul’dah for such purposes of aiding those less fortunate, it seemed only right that the Sultana inform me of these most dreadful events. So again…I ask you,” Katsum’s expression narrowed and her eyes almost seemed to glow in her fury, “Are these provisions truly yours? And I would beseech you to speak the truth, good sir, for we shall know if you do not.”

The noble’s jaw dropped as she moved her first piece into the winning square. Indeed, she and Nanamo had been speaking on the subject just a day or so ago and how the Sultana was worried about how restless the people were getting at being wronged so, and Katsum had offered to keep an eye out. It had been her cargo originally anyway, and such fine Dravanian resources should not fall into hands they were not meant for.

Aguda finally got over his shock and glared at her then, “Uh! The audacity of such claims! I came to seek assistance, not to be blamed for such villainy!”

“Nay, you came here for a dragon —for a “free” guard as you said—that would discourage anyone wearing only tattered rags for clothing too afraid to step forward to take back what is rightfully theirs so that you could spread the name of influence into the city of Ala Mhigo, thus earning potential buyers for future trade. it was made plain the moment you spoke of dragons ‘asking for nothing’. Dragons are loyal to their kin and to those they have come to trust, yes, but if you truly believe they are so blind to follow mine or anyone else’s word and ask for nothing in return like a hound, you are far blinder than you believe them to be.” His jaw dropped again, yet she did not wait for him to answer as she pressed further, “Now, if that is all you wished to discuss, I suggest you take your leave of our city and see to the return of those goods to their rightful owners. Unless…you would like me to inform the Sultana of the information I have just come across and let her and the Brass Blades handle it..?”

Aguda’s face paled, and he tried to retain some of his noblistic confidence, “Why you—”

“Father, please!” Finally, the woman behind him spoke and stepped forward to stand in front of him with a deep look of concern on her face, “She offers you a way to fix it yourself, don’t throw it away with your shame of being caught! I told you you mustn’t do something like this and look where you’ve put us now!” His head dropped as the girl turned to Katsum and bowed her head, a look of sadness filling her eyes as she looked up at her, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea that he had gone through such lengths as this. Please, forgive us, and I will see to it that the supplies are returned to Ul’dah and given out to the less fortunate personally. Please, my lady.”

Katsum stared at her for a moment, looking her over and her lilac colored garments and grey furs. Her eyes showed sincerity yes, but the eyes can be made to fool anyone who looked into them. She glanced at Midgardsormr, seeing he too was staring at her closely, taking in his assessment. With a breath, Katsum summoned Raihogg’s gaze as the dragon’s eye gem began to glow softly and his voice whispered through her mind.

“Her words are genuine as her heart is broken by her father’s deeds. You may believe her as she indeeds to do just as she says.”

The eye in her necklace fades back to its shining red and blue color as Katsum’s eyes softened and she asked the girl, “What is your name, my lady?”

“Kemoda. Kemoda Kesugada, m-my lady.” Her voice trembled as she answered.

Katsum smiled, “There is no reason to fear, Miss Kemoda. I thank you for your honesty and in your offer to right what has been wronged. In return for the good being returned to their rightful owners, I will only speak of the matter being closed with her Grace, nothing more. No names, no suspects. But I will be checking in to be sure our goods were returned as promised.”

Kemoda nodded furiously, bowing low as she breathed, “Oh thank you, my lady! Thank you! You have my word, I shall fix this right away!”

The miqo’te nodded and the lalafellan woman turned and glared softly at her father amidst her worried expression, “Come father, we have much to work on.” With that, she started on her way towards the gates of Ishgard with a determined step in her stride.

Aguda glanced back at her for a moment before looking up at Katsum again and glaring at her, hoping to get in one final word she guessed.

But Midgardsormr hissed first, “Go now, mortal, while I still allow it.”

The deep voice of the ancient dragon seemed to be enough to send the lalafellan man running after his daughter, any thoughts of sassy retorts dying on the squeak of his shout of terror. Midgardsormr chuckled at this before going back to snacking on his cookie and Katsum took a deep breath and shook her head.

“I will never get used to politics and the games you must play,” She sighed.

“No one ever does I’d imagine,” Aymeric mused, stepping up to. her and leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead, “But I dare say you are getting better at playing them. Well done, my queen.”

Katsum blushed lightly as her ears fell back shyly, though her warm smile spoke of her happiness, “Not in front of the child, Aymeric, please.”

He chuckled, and they glanced over to both blink in shock at the wondrous look in Maelie’s eyes as she watched them and she hugged the dragonet tight. She blinked as they looked, “Sorry, I don’t mean to stare, you both are just like a fairytale come true. ‘Tis a love I hope I find one day too.”

Katsum blushed again as Aymeric did and they laughed lightly as Katsum nodded, “I never thought I would have it myself, but thank you, Maelie. That is very sweet of you.”

The girl nodded before Lucia stepped forward then, “Regretful as I am to cut this beautiful moment short, there are other matter that require attention, Lord Commander.”

Aymeric sighed and nodded, looking to Katsum as he drew her into a short yet loving kiss, “Thank you for your assistance, Queen of Dragons. I shall be sure to repay your kindness as soon as I can.”

Katsum grinned knowingly, “And I shall look forward to it. Until tonight, be safe, both of you. And farewell.”

The Lord Commander nodded warmly as he reluctantly pulled back from her and turned to follow the First Commander back to Congregation. katsum watched him go before she turned to Maelie with a grin, “Well, shall we continue our walk?”

“Yes! Or course! Oh, I wanted to ask. How did the Dravanians first come to this world? You mentioned they were from another star right?”

“They did indeed. We’ll be happy to tell you.”

[fearfulkittenwrites]

Damian needs help - Super Sons

"After pacing in his room for a while, Damian came to the painful conclusion that he’d need help. Unfortunately, the only people who could offer him said help were... For lack of a better term, irritating. Still, he swallowed his pride and went hunting for the three men he lovingly calls brothers."

Or: Damian asks his brothers how were they able to turn their friendships into romances, because he wants to do the same.

Word count: 1971

Link for it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25812319

Or read it below the cut!

After pacing in his room for a while, Damian came to the painful conclusion that he’d need help. Unfortunately, the only people who could offer him said help were... For lack of a better term, irritating. Still, he swallowed his pride and went hunting for the three men he lovingly calls brothers, finding all of them in the cave. Dick was exercising his acrobat skills, Tim was mindlessly kicking the crap out of a punching bag, looking bored, and Jason cleaned his guns while humming “Highway to Hell”.

“I need your help.” He exclaimed, from the top of the stairs. All of them immediately stopped what they were doing. Jason seemed amused, Dick seemed worried and Tim seemed... incredulous.

“You... What?” He asked, stilling the bag.

“I need your help.” He repeated, frowning.

“Something bad happened Dames?” Dick inquired, carefully.

“What? No.” Damian shook his head and climbed down. Dick picked up a towel to remove the sweat from his hair and face, then hanged it around his neck. Jason reassembled his weapons, watching from a safe distance while the rest of them got closer to the boy “I need your help because... I...” His voice became an inaudible mumbe.

“Because what?” Tim inquired.

“Because I want to ask...” Once again, his words became mushed up, hurried and quiet. Dick raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“What?” The teen insisted.

“It’s about Jon, isn’t it?” Dick stated. Damian scowled and nodded.

“What? How did you know that?” Tim stepped in.

“That’s not the point, Drake.” Damian interrupted “I need to ask him out.”

“And what do you need us to do?” Dick asked, reaching for the water bottle on his table.

“I need advice. You have been in situations very similar to mine, and you had a good outcome. How can I achieve that with Jon?”

“I don’t know man, just ask him out.” Tim said, headed back to his punching bag “It’s not like Jon would ever be mean to anyone. Even if you yourself are the incarnation of mean.”

“-tt-.” Damian rolled his eyes “Grayson, what did you do to get West?” He inquired.

“Well, I guess that at first we had like, a bromance, right?”

“Yes. And then what?”

“Then we slept together.” He shrugged. However, as soon as the words came out of his mouth he regretted them, straightening his posture “But, uhm, maybe that’s not the best advice for you to follow.”

“I figured that out on my own.” He scowled in disgust. Damian turned to Tim. He was also with a super, so he’d probably be of use to Damian now “What about you, Drake? How did you get the clone?”

“Actually,” He gave a high kick to the bag “Kon was the one who asked me out.”

“And why did you say yes?” He twisted his nose.

“Uh, because I wanted to?” Tim responded, an implied ‘obviously’ in his tone “Anyways, I don’t think I can help you so much in that department. Hey, Jason,” He said “You should be able to help. What did you do to be with Roy?”

“What?” The man answered “Me and Roy aren’t together.”

“Really?” Tim laughed “Then why do you always cuddle when you’re watching a movie together?”

“And why is he always lingering around in the manor?” Damian asked, crossed arms.

“And didn’t you two went out together the other night?” Dick chimed in, biting the end of his bottle.

“We went to a bar, that’s normal.”

“Yeah, except for the fact that I accidentally caught you two in the middle of a heavy makeout session when you came back.” Dick shot back.

“Consider yourself lucky.” Tim said “I caught them doing worse.”

“It’s not like we’re exclusive or anything.” Jason explained.

“Have you been with anyone else lately?” Dick smirked as the other glared at him “Well, he hasn’t either.”

“He...? Wait.” Jason stopped for a second “Shit. Shit. I need to call Roy.” He rushed out of the cave, picking up his cellphone.

Tim chuckled.

“Ugh, clearly, the three of you are useless. As usual.” Damian scowled.

“Oh, c’mon Little D.” Dick said, ruffling his hair “We’re not useless. You’re the one expecting something that doesn’t exist.”

“And what would that be?” He groaned, setting his hair back in order.

“A formula. There’s no such thing as a recipe when it comes to romance. You just have to try whatever feels right.”

“Nothing feels right.” He complained, throwing his small body in a chair.

“That’s because you’re nervous.” Dick pointed out “Just... Ask him if he’d want to go out and have some ice cream this weekend. Then see what happens.”

“This seems like an awfully unprepared date.”

“It doesn’t have to be elaborate Damian.” Dick rolled his eyes.

“Yeah,” Tim chimed in, still torturing the poor bag “I mean, Jon’s a farm boy and he’s the literal personification of sunshine. You could probably take him to a convenience store on a first date and he’d be excited about it.” Damian groaned.

“Fine, I’ll consider it.” Damian said.

Jason ran into the cave in an euphoric state, practically falling down the stairs.

“Guys!” He yelled “Guys you were right! We’re together now! He really is my boyfriend!”

Damian scowled in disgust while Tim and Dick laughed. The boy pushed his brother out of the way as he went back up into the manor, knowing what he had to do, as unpleasant as it might be. He made his way into the ballroom, where Alfred coordinated the cleaning for the incoming gala. Getting the room ready always took at least three days; the butler was a perfectionist.

“Alfred.” He called “I require some assistance.” The man seemed surprise. He nodded, turning his attention to a blushing Damian “Say I intended to ask someone on a date.” His face got redder with each word “What... Where should I take said person?”

“Well, master Damian,” Alfred started “That depends. Who is this girl we’re talking about?”

“Not a girl.” He couldn’t keep eye contact.

“Oh. Then who is this boy we’re thinking of?” Damian couldn’t answer “Is it safe to assume we’re talking about young master Jon?” He shoved his face in his hands and nodded “Very well then.” Alfred had the faintest of smiles on his face “Might I suggest a picnic sir?” Damian peeked through his fingers “I can arrange a meal to be eaten in the garden.” He removed his hands from his face, placing them on his chin.

“Maybe. But I have a better idea.”

...

Damian paced on the roof when he saw a blue blur coming in his direction. He smiled. Jon landed next to him, Superboy outfit on.

“Hey D.” He greeted, smiling “Why aren’t you wearing your costume?”

“They’re not...” He bit his tongue “Wait. What did the clone tell you?”

“Kon told me that Tim told him that you asked him to tell Kon to tell me that you’d be waiting in the roof for me tonight.” Jon tilted his head a little “Why?”

“Did that idiot tell you why I’d be waiting in the roof?” Damian was fuming. He wished he had simply asked Jon himself.

“No? I assumed it was hero stuff.” He looked past him. There was a picnic basket and a checkered red tablecloth set on the ground “Oh.” He blushed.

“Yeah. Oh.” Damian said, huffing “Stupid clone. You should leave. I won’t force you to...”

“No! No, it’s a good kind of ‘oh’.” Jon extended his hands, stopping Damian “I... Liked it. I just wish I had a better outfit on.”

“Well,” Damian shifted his weight from one leg to the other “In that case, maybe we should sit.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Jon swallowed, unsure on how to act. Damian pulled out the food Alfred had prepared for them.

“I, uhm, I asked Alfred to make these.” He placed two sandwiches in front of them “They’re chickpeas ‘tuna’ sandwiches. If you don’t like them, I’m certain Alfred would be happy to make you something else.”

“I’ve never had those before,” Jon said, examining it “They seem good.”

“They are.” Damian watched as Jon bit into his sandwich, hopeful.

“Hum.” He exclaimed, mouth full “I like it.” Damian let out a breath. He pulled out two glass bottles.

“Orange juice?”

“Yes, please.” Jon took one from his hands.

They ate quietly. Damian noticed how Jon’s blue eyes looked beautiful under the moonlight, how his hair framed his face perfectly when it was ruffled up by the wind, how his smile still knocked the breath out of his lungs, no matter how many times he’s seen it before. Jon stared at the stars.

“This is so nice.” He said “It’s been so long since I last saw them this bright. The lights in metropolis get in the way.” Damian looked up “I thought they’d get in the way here too, but I guess that the manor is far enough from the city that it doesn’t.” He sighed “It makes me miss Hamilton.”

Damnit. Damian planned this so carefully. How could he have missed something so obvious? Now Jon was sad, and it was his fault. He should’ve just taken him for stupid ice cream.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” He said, head low.

“Upset me?” Jon asked “You didn’t upset me. This is perfect, D.”

“But you just said...?”

“That it makes me miss Hamilton? That’s not a bad thing.” Jon smiled, biting his sandwich again “It means that you gave me back something I thought I had lost for good after I moved.” He inched a hand closer to Damian’s. He retributed the movement, fingers touching slightly. None of them wanted to pull away.

Once they were done eating, Damian reached into the basket again, pulling out...

“Cookies!” Jon excitedly pointed out. Damian smirked.

“I knew you’d like them.” Jon fished one out of the bag.

“Oh, they’re still warm!” He nearly moaned as he bit into one of them “These are so good.”

“I’ll let Alfred know you appreciated them.” Damian watched his satisfied munching.

“Mmm, please do!” He licked his lips, getting the crumbs away from them and into his mouth. Damian swallowed.

Jon ate the cookies at record speed, and now they were both laying on the roof in silence, looking up at the sky. It was a warm night and the full moon was as bright as it could be, lighting up the distant Gotham streets.

“Now what?” Jon nearly whispered.

“You have your suit. I could put on my suit and we could patrol in Gotham tonight.” Damian said, eyes fixed on the sky “Or we could stay here.”

“I like the second option better.” He answered, pushing himself up. He floated over Damian, blue eyes piercing through his soul. Damian reached up, setting a hand behind Jon’s neck, playing with the hair growing there, slowly bringing him down into a kiss. They closed their eyes for a second, lips pressed together until Damian pulled away.

“Was it... Good?” He whispered.

“Yeah.” Jon answered “Can I land on top of you?” Damian nodded. Jon laid down again, tangling their legs together, supporting his head on the other’s chest “This feels like a dream.” His voice was almost inaudible.

“Tell me about it.” Damian’s hand moved to comb through his hair gently, voice nothing but a whisper. Jon made an approving hum and he smiled.

“I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Me too.”

“I guess we’re both idiots then, huh?” Jon looked up at him “Waisting our time bickering when we could’ve just... Said it.”

Damian swallowed.

“This is the only time you’re ever allowed to call me an idiot.” He wanted to scowl, but he grinned instead. Jon chuckled.

“Okay. Please don’t stop playing with my hair.”

“I won’t.”

[angelofthequeers]

Miladybug

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

I signed up to be a backup gifter for @mlsecretsanta and my giftee turned out to be @chimpukampu so I hope you like this fic!  ❤️💚

AO3 link

“Where’s…Adrien?” Marinette pants when she’s tumbled into her seat, only barely on time for school which, to be fair, is a step up from being outright late. But there’s no familiar blond head in front of her!

“Home sick,” Nino says. “Poor dude’s got a nasty cold.”

“You reckon his dad’ll let him rest and recover?” Alya says, making a face. “Or is he just gonna learn at home?”

“Probably that one,” Nino says.

“Ugh. He’s got the worst dad, I swear. My mum would tie me to the bed with blankets and force-feed me homemade chicken soup.”

Ms Bustier clears her throat, cutting the conversation short. But Marinette can’t concentrate. All she can think about is poor, sick Adrien, and how she should maybe swing by later that night before patrol with a box of delicious baked goods…but no, she can’t. Between her love for Adrien and the feelings for Chat Noir that she’s trying to shove a lid on, it’s the last thing her tangled heart needs, not to mention that she’d probably end up a flustered mess like when she’d given Adrien the Snake Miraculous and then he’ll think she’s totally uncool and won’t want to talk to her and she’ll have blown her relationship with him on both sides of the mask and –

Marinette shakes her head with a soft groan and forces herself to pay attention to the lesson. Dwelling on it won’t do anything except send her brain spiralling, which is never a good time for her.

Once school’s over, she distracts herself until patrol time making a get well soon card for Adrien, even though she probably won’t have the guts to even sign it, let alone deliver it. Besides, the universe will probably kick her in the gut if she does; after all, she’d forgotten to sign her Valentine, and she’d signed Adrien’s birthday present, but her signature had somehow vanished. Tikki perches on her shoulder, munching on a cookie while Marinette sticks a scarlet heart to the front of the pink card and then sprinkles a touch of pink glitter on it.

“What do I even write?” she says when she opens it. “Dear Adrien, get well soon! Love, Marinette.” She groans and thumps her head on her desk. “No! That’s the most generic message ever! And “love”? Gah! That’s too – too – coupley!”

“I thought you wanted to be a couple,” Tikki teases.

“Yeah, but not through a get-well card when he’s sick!” Marinette says. “Ugh, this is a disaster!”

“Well, it’s almost time for patrol,” Tikki says. “Why not head out a little earlier to clear your head? Then you can work on your card when you get home!”

Marinette exhales and lets her shoulders slump. “You’re right, Tikki,” she says. “I’m freaking out over nothing!”

“Hey, I didn’t say that!”

“Yeah, yeah. Tikki, spots on!”

As Ladybug, all her worries seem to melt away once she’s swinging through the sea of lights that make up Paris. Although she could make it to the Eiffel Tower in less than a minute, she decides to take the scenic route and keeps a nice, relaxed pace through the city. At one point, she even closes her eyes and lets herself plummet, laughing at how the wind whips through her hair and howls in her ears, then opens her eyes and throws her yo-yo just in time to stop herself from crashing into the ground.

Even though she’s early, Chat Noir is already at the Tower when Ladybug lands on the platform at the tip, her pigtails a windblown mess and her cheeks flushed warm with blood. He gives her his signature smirk, although it’s lopsided.

“Milady!” He lets out a giggle. “Get it! Because you’re a ladybug! You’re milady…bug!” He squints at her and adds, “You don’t look like a bug, though. Your eyes are…” He laughs again. “Pretty!”

“Uh…” Ladybug lets her yo-yo swing. “Is there an akuma? Did you get hit?”

“What! Noooo! No akuma!” Chat Noir lets himself fall onto his back. “I’m happy, miladybug. Bugaboo. Angel. The light of my life!”

Her brow furrowed, Ladybug edges towards her oddly-behaving partner and nudges him with her toes. He giggles again and looks up at her with glazed green eyes.

“Okay, what happened?” she says, crossing her arms. “What did you do?”

“I’m sick!” Chat Noir beams as though Ladybug had just revealed her identity to him. “I have a coooold. But I’m so hot!” He flexes his biceps and says, “In more ways than one, miladybug!”

“God help me,” Ladybug mutters. “What kind of cold could you possibly have that would make you like this?”

“It’s not my cold!” Chat Noir winks. “It’s – it’s the meds! I took cold tablets!” He frowns and adds, “Why are they called cold tablets if they’re not cold? You don’t keep them in the fridge. Maybe you should, though!” He gasps and covers his mouth. “I’ve found the secret, miladybug! I’ll cure colds! Maybe I shouldn’t be a ps – a physicist. I’ll be a biologist!”

So, Chat Noir wants to be a physicist? Huh. Adrien likes physics too.

“A bi-ologist!” Chat Noir says with a rasping laugh. “Because I’m bi! Geddit, miladybug? And I’m bilingual! I’m learning Mandarin!” He gasps. “Are you bi too? Are we balanced? You on this side –” He holds his left hand out. “And me on this side!” He holds out his right hand. “For justice! Lady Justice! Milady Justice!”

“Okay, okay, no patrol for you tonight, kitty,” Ladybug sighs, sitting cross-legged next to him. He immediately shuffles over and rests his head in her lap, and a deep sound rumbles deep in his chest. “Did you just purr?”

“Mm-hmm!” Chat Noir sighs and nestles his head further in her lap. “Cats purr when they’re happy. And you make me happy, miladybug. You’re my – my catnip! I can’t get enough of you!” He twirls his finger near his temple and says, “You make me gaga when you’re around!”

Despite her best efforts, Ladybug can’t stop a giggle from escaping her. It seems that cold and flu medication sends Chat Noir high as a kite and removes any filter he might have. This could be problematic, although she can’t quite put her finger on why because even without a filter, he shouldn’t just up and spill his secret identity.

Right?

“Are you an angel, miladybug?” Chat Noir sighs. “You’re glowing.”

“That’s just the city lights, silly,” Ladybug says and boops his nose. He purrs louder in response.

“Your eyes are so pretty,” he says. “So – so – blue! Just like my friend.”

Alarm bells start to sound in Ladybug’s head. “Chat –”

“Marinette!” Chat Noir blurts out. Ladybug freezes. “You know Marinette, right? Of course you do! You told me to protect her from Nathanieeeel.” He sighs again and says, “Can I tell you a secret, miladybug?”

“Um, I don’t think –”

“I think I like Marinette. She’s so prettyyyy…and she’s always standing up – everyone stands up! No one can sit forever! But she stands up strongly. And she tells off Chloe. I wish I could be as cool as her.”

“Chat, I think you need to shut up now,” Ladybug says, trying to extract Chat Noir from her lap while also trying to deal with the warmth pooling in her gut at his words. Rather than listen to her, however, he utters the words that knock her entire worldview off its axis.

“She’s so beautiful when she’s positive,” Chat Noir says with a strong purr. “She’s the only person in my class who’s never touched a pretty black butterfly, apart from me.” He wrinkles his nose. “Wait, no, they’re ugly. Hawkmoth is ugly. But not Marinette! She’s beautiful. I’m used to disappointment. But she’s strong. Of course she is. She’s a baker’s daughter!” His eyes unfocus. “I wonder if she could carry me like a sack of flour.”

Ice explodes in Ladybug’s stomach, coating her insides. She’s the only other person apart from him that hasn’t been akumatised in their class? But – no, that can’t be – the only other person in Ms Bustier’s class who hasn’t been akumatised is…

Something behind Chat Noir’s mask seems to shift. The blond hair and green eyes are no longer unfamiliar. Now they’re – now it’s Adrien looking out at her with his drug-glazed eyes and lopsided grin –

No. Way. She’s been rejecting her crush all this time for herself! He’s starting to fall for her civilian identity, and he never would’ve let this slip if he’d known it was her behind the mask, drugged or not! And now he’s just gone and blurted it all out to her and outed his identity! What the heck is she supposed to do?

A soft snore snaps her out of her panicked thoughts. Chat Noir has dozed off in her lap, curled up like a cat and letting out little purring snores with each exhale. Before she realises what she’s doing, her fingers are carding through his hair, bright scarlet against soft gold like a rose on sea sand. Okay. She just has to be rational about this. She needs to talk to someone before she has her looming meltdown.

“Spots off,” she whispers. Pink sparkles wash over her, dissolving the ladybug suit and freeing Tikki. The kwami gasps, her eyes bulging as she takes in the scene before her.

“It’s okay,” Marinette says softly, still combing her fingers through his hair. “Adrien’s asleep.”

“Ad – oh.” Tikki’s large blue eyes are fixed on Chat Noir. “You know. How?”

“He’s high on cold meds,” Marinette says. “He let a few things slip. Things I couldn’t just brush off. Like how we’re the only two people in our class who haven’t been akumatised.”

“That would do it,” Tikki sighs. She darts into Marinette’s purse and emerges with a macaron, devouring half of it in one bite. “And you’re not…upset? Freaking out?’

“Oh, I’m about two seconds from losing my mind,” Marinette says rather evenly, still stroking her kitty’s hair. “I think it’s just a delayed reaction. And I don’t want to wake him up or freak out Paris and make them think there’s an akuma.”

“Poor Adrien.” Tikki darts down to press a tiny kiss to Chat Noir’s forehead.

“It makes sense now,” Marinette says. “Why Chat’s so…Chat. I mean, his timing could use some work, but of course he’s going to be that open when he’s Chat.”

“It’s not like he’s a different person as Chat than as Adrien,” Tikki says.

“Yeah, I know that,” Marinette says. She sighs and leans down to follow Tikki’s example and kiss Chat Noir on the forehead. The inevitable meltdown in the next few hours as she tries to process this is going to be huge. “Adrien has his dorky moments. How did I not see it before? He literally told me it was a ‘knightmare’ after Darkblade was defeated! And you knew!”

“Of course I knew,” Tikki says. “I saw him when you were facing Dark Owl. But are you really upset that I didn’t tell you?”

“No, no…it was my decision to keep our identities a secret. I guess I’m just trying to process.”

“Maybe you should process at home,” Tikki says. “You’re clearly not going to get any patrolling done, and it’s probably best for Adrien if he’s at home to rest.”

“But he’s…so peaceful.” Marinette starts to stroke a finger down Chat Noir’s nose over the shiny leather mask, just like her mother used to do to her as a small child. Chat Noir lets out a loud purr and nuzzles against her thigh.

“The longer you try to suppress this freak-out, the stronger it’s going to be when it sinks in,” Tikki says. “And super suit or not, the best thing for Adrien right now is to be resting at home. It’s not exactly warm out here.”

“That’s…true.” Marinette huffs and carefully shifts Chat Noir’s head so that she can stand up. Chat Noir lets out a tiny mewl when his head touches the cool metal of the Eiffel Tower, rather than the warmth of Marinette’s legs. She can’t help but let a laugh slip out when, absurdly, she realises what Chat Noir might have to say about Tikki’s wording. “That silly cat. He’d say suppurress and then give me that grin of his when I groan. I can’t believe I’m in love with this dork!”

“You’re in love with him?” Tikki says. Marinette braces herself for a freak-out that never emerges. Huh. Maybe it really is waiting until she’s home and her brain isn’t currently trying to process a million past interactions at once.

“He’s Adrien,” Marinette says. “Of course I’m in love with every side of him. And okay, so I might have been catching some feelings for Chat, but I’m just going to ignore that. And bury it deep down. Really deep down. And then let it blow up as I scream into my pillow and you float there and try to calm me down and offer me advice about how it’s all going to be alright and I’ll start shrieking about our three kids and hamster and island home and my parents will just assume I’m going on a lovesick ramble again –”

“Marinette!” Tikki says loudly, cutting off the rest of Marinette’s babbling in her throat. “Maybe you should get Adrien home while you’ve still got some semblance of higher brain power?”

“Right. Right. Of course.” Marinette runs a hand through her hair, accidentally pulling some strands out of her pigtails. “You’re right. Tikki, spots on!”

Once transformed, Ladybug scoops Chat Noir into her arms bridal-style and then leaps across the buildings of Paris in the direction of the Agreste mansion. To be honest, there’s a part of her that’s praying to see Adrien in his room, to maintain this charade of Adrien and Chat Noir being two separate people, even though she knows rationally that after Chat Noir’s rambling just before, there’s no way he could be anyone else. But sure enough, when she swings smoothly through the window into Adrien’s bedroom, there’s no one there.

Well, then. Guess there’s no more deluding herself. Chat Noir and Adrien Agreste are the same person. The boy she’s been turning down is the boy she’s been so in love with for so long.

“He can’t detransform like this, can he?” Ladybug mumbles to herself once she’s laid Chat Noir down on the bed as reverently as someone might set down their new bride. Chat Noir snuffles and curls in on himself, then lets out a tiny snore, and Ladybug’s insides melt into goo at just how…adorable he is.

If she’s honest with herself, Chat Noir’s always had a bit of her heart that Adrien never had. It would’ve been easy – so very easy – to let herself fall for him. But how could she do that when her heart belonged to Adrien? How could she let herself give up on the boy she loved?

Except that now, she doesn’t have to. The two boys who’ve staked claim to her heart are one and the same. It’s not as though her feelings for Adrien have transferred to Chat Noir now that she knows they’re the same person. It’s more like…acknowledging the duality of Adrien and Chat Noir has unlocked her heart, allowing herself to fully love both sides of the same boy, simultaneously so similar and yet so different.

Ladybug blinks and shakes her head. Of course she’d stand there and wax poetic over her sleeping kitty. But how is she supposed to detransform him without waking him up to have him say the words? She can’t really leave him there as Chat Noir in case someone comes to check on him and finds a leather cat superhero where the sunshine prince of Paris should be. She bites down on her lip to stifle her laughter at that thought, to avoid waking him.

“Forgive me, mon minou,” Ladybug whispers. She takes his hand in hers and starts to slide his ring off, ever so slowly, making sure that he doesn’t wake up and start freaking out that someone’s trying to remove his ring. She freezes when he grunts, but his head just lolls to the other side and he continues to snore softly, his exhales whistling just like hers do when she’s all clogged up from a cold. Poor kitten.

In a flash of green light, Chat Noir is replaced with Adrien once Ladybug finally gets the ring off. Plagg comes tumbling out and whips around, no doubt to investigate why he’d been forcibly freed from the transformation, so Ladybug just raises a finger to her lips, Plagg’s Miraculous in full view, and then carefully twists the now-silver ring back onto Adrien’s finger. Plagg watches her silently, his bright green cat eyes rather eerie in the rolling shadows of Adrien’s room cast by the lights outside his window.

“I can’t believe he’s my kitten.” Ladybug sits down next to Adrien, careful not to disturb him, wincing when he forces in a particularly loud gulp of air. She resumes stroking her finger down his nose just as she’d done on top of the Eiffel Tower and he seems to lean into the touch with a soft purr, although that could just be her imagination.

“Thanks for taking care of him.” Plagg’s voice is soft, both in volume to not wake Adrien up and in tone, unlike his usual crassness. “I tried to get him to skip out on patrol tonight.”

“He should have. Silly kitty.” Impulsively, Ladybug bends down and smooths back Adrien’s soft hair to press a kiss to his forehead, her lips lingering on the hot skin. She won’t kiss him on the mouth, not while he’s asleep; that’s a privilege that she has to earn when he’s awake and aware. “I wish I could help.”

“Kid, trust me, when I tell him Ladybug kissed him, that’ll help him plenty,” Plagg says. Then he smirks, his fangs glinting in the dim light. “He’s gonna freak when I tell him Ladybug knows who he is. Maybe he’ll finally shut up about his lady and her silky hair like night and her bluebell eyes –”

“Plagg!” Ladybug hisses as blood rushes to her cheeks. “Don’t be a turd!”

Plagg just cackles quietly. “You should go, Pigtails,” he says as he zips down to snuggle on the pillow next to Adrien’s head. “I’ll watch out for him. Wouldn’t want to be late for school tomorrow, would ya?”

“You and I both know I’ll always be late, Ladybug or not,” Ladybug say. But she still rises from the bed as gently as she can, then turns back to leave one last kiss on Adrien’s forehead. “Sleep well, mon chéri.”

“Gag me,” Plagg mutters. Ladybug rolls her eyes at him before heading for the window, tiptoeing so that her kitten can sleep peacefully. She her yo-yo to catch on a nearby chimney, blows a kiss back at Adrien, then leaps out into the cool Parisian night.

“Don’t worry, Adrien,” Ladybug murmurs as she reflects on the action-packed events of the past hour, praying that she makes it home before it really sinks in and she starts to scream, because the last thing she needs is to scare the living daylights out of Paris. “I’ll carry you like a bag of flour tomorrow. Just you wait and see.”

[ninzied]

things you said with too many miles between us

happy belated birthday to my dear cherished friend @redbelles. i am eternally grateful for your wit, wisdom, and way with words. please accept this humble fic offering as a token of ALL MY LOVE for you :)

[ao3]

The moment Frank crosses the bridge back into the city, he wonders if he’s made a mistake.

Everything suddenly feels too close – the buildings, the view, the vague smell of garbage polluting the truck cabin. He rolls up the windows and cranks the AC instead. He reaches for the volume next, to drown out as much of the street sounds as he can.

He misses the fresh, clean air of the mountains, all that wide open space on the road with nothing else between him and the horizon.

There’s not enough room here, for him and his thoughts. Not enough time for them, either; when he’d been driving with no destination in mind, his thoughts had been prone to wandering, too, and it was fine if they returned with no answer, because there was always more time to work them through.

He could feel the longing more acutely then, but at least he could also feel free to hope.

Here, the city feels too impatient for that: the stop-start of it all, the pressure to keep shifting gears that seems to close in on him from every side. As he maneuvers his way through the rest of the city, he thinks about all that sky still behind him, endless, and blue, and beckoning him to turn around.

And then he thinks about what brought him back, and drives on.

…

Frank does a double take when he sees Amy waiting for him on the steps of Curtis’s trailer. She vaults up with an ear-to-ear grin as the truck rolls to a stop out front.

He closes the door and says, “How did you know?”

“I could just tell.” She skips up to the truck, and flashes a couple of postcards from the inner part of her jacket at him. There’s Mt. Rushmore on one of them, the St. Louis arch on the other. “You were starting to sound a little homesick.”

Frank shakes his head. “Curt told you, didn’t he.”

“Yeah, maybe.” She shifts her weight from one foot to the other. And then she bursts out, sounding smug, “But also, the dates on these, look – you weren’t heading west, you were going the opposite. Clearly you were making your way back to something.”

Frank grabs up his bag from the cargo bed of the truck, slinging it over his shoulder. “Okay, detective. C’mere.”

She jumps up at him with a crushing bear hug, and he can’t help but smile before pulling away. “Yeah, I missed you too.”

“You get some good thinking done out there?”

He pulls a noncommittal face. “Sure.”

“Great. Can’t wait to hear all about it.” She’s beaming at him, and that’s not really something he knows how to say no to. “I was gonna meet up with some friends for dinner, but I was thinking I could help you unpack until then?”

“You have friends?” He grunts as she jams her fist in his shoulder.

“Got at least one right here,” she says. “Sorry to be the one to break it to you.”

…

“It’s spring break, anyway, so it was a good excuse to make some of them drive up here with me.” Amy’s cross-legged on one of the chairs, munching on snacks she’d found in the cupboard that Curt must have left there for Frank.

“Spring break, huh? Shouldn’t you be on a beach somewhere instead?”

Amy gives him a look. “Dive school, remember? That’s all we do all day. Be on the beach.” She holds out a bag of chips to him, and he sets his duffel aside.

“Let me guess – guns, guns, more guns. And a steady rotation of the same three black hoodies.” She gives one of the side pockets a playful little nudge, and a corner of cardstock pokes out of the zipper.

“What’s this?” Amy asks, reaching in and pulling out a frayed stack of postcards. Before Frank has a chance to say anything, she’s already plucking the rubber band off. It’s cracked in the middle, and falls to the floor in one long broken strand. “Jeez. That thing is almost as ancient as you are.”

“Hey. Quit that.” He makes a move for the cards, but she’s shooting onto her feet with a speed that would probably make him proud under any other circumstances. “Hand ’em over, all right?”

“Just a sec.”

She starts thumbing through the cards like a kid who’s just been trick-or-treating, taking stock of all her spoils.

“I’m serious. Hey.”

But the amusement has already faded from her expression, and then she’s clearing her throat and carefully realigning the cards, like they’re something sacred that she knows she had no right to see.

She doesn’t resist him when he takes the cards back, tucking them carefully into his bag.

“Frank…” She shakes her head, baffled, and when he glances back over she looks genuinely upset with him. “Why didn’t you send those?”

“Wasn’t the point of writing them.”

“I’m sorry,” she says. “But just to clarify. You wrote those freaking beautiful, heartfelt little notes, specifically to just…keep them all to yourself?” She throws her hands up in the air with abject confusion. Words seem to fail her momentarily, which suits Frank just fine.

He turns away, unpacking the rest of his things. He’s checking the status of the fridge next when she starts in again.

“Wait, hang on.”

Frank cracks open a cold beer, and sends a silent thank you to Curt for looking out. He sinks into one of the chairs by the table as Amy rounds on him accusingly.

“Are you telling me that that day in the hospital – was that seriously the last time you spoke to her?”

“Wasn’t telling you anything.”

“Nice,” says Amy. “Okay. Sure. Do that thing where you push people away. That’s obviously been working so well for you.”

“Maybe I was just keeping a diary.” He shrugs, ignoring the dig. “Pretty sure people are allowed to do shit like that when they travel.”

Amy is unimpressed. “Is your diary also named Karen? Because that would really be some coincidence.”

“Look, I didn’t write them to be read – by her, or by anyone.” His tone is harder than he meant for it to be, and he catches Amy wince a little in his periphery.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have pried.”

“’S’okay,” he tells her. “It’s done.”

She comes over to sit next to him. He chugs down some more of his beer, and they’re both silent for a while.

“You kept them, though,” Amy finally insists quietly to him. “That means something.”

“Yeah,” says Frank. No point in denying it.

“And for what it’s worth,” Amy tells him, “she looks at you the same way.”

“That was a long time ago,” says Frank, getting up to go scrounge for anything resembling real food. “Tell me about these ‘friends’ of yours. The one who drove you all the way up here – he been treating you right?”

“How did you even—” Amy protests, and Frank swats away the bag of cookies she lobs at his head.

…

After Amy’s gone to meet up with her friends, Frank finds his phone and, for the tenth time that week, hovers over Karen’s number before setting it back down.

Everything he’s come here to tell her – she deserves to hear it from him in person. But calling her, if she even picks up, feels like cornering her into something she has every right to say no to, and at the very least think about before she says yes.

He picks up his phone again.

Hey, he types into the screen. It’s me. I’m back in town. Would like to see you, if you would be okay with that.

He texts her the address, and reaches for another beer.

Karen’s response comes a few hours later:

Didn’t realize you had left again.

And then, after ten long and excruciating seconds:

I can come by around 3 tomorrow.

Okay, he texts back, and leaves it at that. …

He hears her car pull up just before 3 the next afternoon.

He meets her outside, waiting for her to step out. She’s shielding her eyes from the sun, so he doesn’t get a good look at her face right away. She’s dressed in dark denim, and a sweater made out of some soft-looking material.

The image stirs up a strange, almost painful sensation in his chest. He realizes he’s never seen her not dressed up for work before. He’s never seen her as this. Just Karen.

“Hey,” he says, approaching as she does. They end up meeting somewhere in the middle, standing awkwardly together in that gravel lot. “Thanks for coming.”

“Sure.” Karen gives him a small smile. “You look good, Frank.”

“Yeah?” he says. “You too.”

He’s about to invite her inside when she slips her hand into her bag, and then she’s holding something out to him. “Here. I wanted to return these.”

He looks down.

“Christ,” he says, feeling like the wind’s been knocked out of him.

She has a small handful of his postcards – whatever Amy must have thought she could get away with stealing out of his bag when he wasn’t looking.

He recognizes the one on top. It was the last card he’d written to her – with a picture of some woods up in Oregon, where he’d been hiking when he realized he had it all wrong.

“Not sure you meant for them to get sent.”

“No,” says Frank, swallowing. They’re dated, but he’d never bothered to stamp or address any of them, only starting them each with a single, scrawled Dear Karen. “No, but they’re yours.”

She turns the cards over in her hand. “Heard your song on the radio as I drove here,” she reads aloud. She flips to another one. “This coffee could give that other place a run for its money.”

He grimaces to hear his words out in the open like this. But she’s gentle with them, and with each postcard too, grasping them delicately at the edges as if they might crumple with too much pressure.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” she reads on the back of a card he’d grabbed from the souvenir shop at some grungy Seattle motel. “About how we’re all just trying not to be lonely. To be honest, I think about it all the time.”

There’s a slight hitch in her voice at the end, and he finds himself swaying forward a little, remembering where he had been the night that he wrote it. How he’d almost picked up the phone and called her. How his throat had closed up at the thought, and everything he would’ve said ended up on a stack of cards at the bottom of his bag instead.

“Are there more of these?” Karen asks.

Frank nods. “They’re not – I mean, some of them are just – like the one about the coffee. Pretty meaningless.”

She’s looking at him like they’re anything but. “Could I see them?”

“You can have them.” He doesn’t know how to take his eyes off of her. “You can have all of them.”

Karen traces a finger over the Oregon woods before turning the postcard around. “Wish you were here.” She seems to keep her gaze trained purposely down as she asks him, “Did you mean that, Frank?”

Something breaks inside him at the question. He ducks his head to catch her eye, lifting a knuckle to ghost over her chin. “I did,” he says, hoarse but resolved. “Still do.”

Karen’s quiet for a moment as she regards him, like she’s coming to a decision of her own. “Okay,” she says finally. “So let’s go.”

He thinks he couldn’t have heard her right.

But as he’s standing there, feeling overcome, she’s already halfway to her car. Frank watches, dumbfounded, as she pulls a bag out from behind one of the seats and closes the door behind her.

“You’re serious,” he says. “You don’t have work?”

It’s everything he hadn’t even thought he could hope for, but he doesn’t want this disrupting her life either, taking her away from all the things that matter to her.

“I think Matt and Foggy can agree that I’m long overdue for a vacation.” She walks back up to him, but his expression seems to make her pause. “If that’s all right with you.”

“God, yes.” Frank moves closer before stopping himself. Steady, he thinks. There’s no need to rush anything. They have time. They have time. “That’s what I came here to tell you I wanted.”

She’s the first to reach out and touch him, just a brush of her palm to his chest. It’s brief, but gentle to go with her tone as she teases him ever so lightly, “Looks like you already did.”

“Looks like,” says Frank, and he could just stand here all day, with the soft way she’s gazing at him right now. “So we’re doing this.”

“Looks like,” says Karen, and he looks away, smiling.

“I’ll get my things.” But he’s loath to move away from her, and after a split second’s hesitation he leans in and lets his forehead rest against hers. Karen’s hands come up to his shoulders, and everything else stands still for a moment. “Remind me to send Amy a postcard when we get there.”

She makes a small humming sound. “And where is this ‘there’ going to be?”

“Anywhere,” he says. “So long as you’re there, doesn’t matter.”

“Mm. I like that.” Karen pulls back and looks a little slyly at him. “Think that could go on a card somewhere too.”

Frank shakes his head as she laughs and goes to toss her bag into his truck.

[wishingupontheskyandstars]

Our Secret This Holiday ❄️ Chp. 4

Summary: As the Holidays approach, Arya and Gendry are a new couple spending a lot of time together before they reveal to everyone else that they are dating and what better day to reveal that than on Christmas…

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | AO3 Link Here | Rated M

Chapter 4: Ugly Sweaters 

The Holiday party was in full swing with modern and classic holiday songs playing in the background. Guests, dressed in themed sweaters, continued to catch Arya’s eye. Some were the ugliest sweaters she had ever seen. She scrunched her nose at someone wearing a bright red sweater with wavy lined gold tinsel and real lights scattered around, sparkling white, green, and blue.

A variety of Christmas lights shined brightly throughout, along with the decorative tree, hanging stockings, beautiful wreaths, and charming gingerbread houses delicately placed on the fireplace mantel. It was a wonder to Arya, with all the decorations, how over thirty guests were able to fit in both the Condo's living room and kitchen.

"Arya, Daenerys told me your last semester is coming up. How are you holding up?" Missandei, Daenerys' co-worker at the law firm, asked.

Arya looked away from the decorations once she heard her name. She felt Gendry's hand placed at her lower back, making her feel warm and want to snuggle more into his arms. She looked at Missandei, beautifully dressed in a shimmery silver-colored sweater dress with a large green ribbon in the center. She held hands with her boyfriend, known as Grey Worm. He was a military officer stationed overseas in Essos and was able to get a few weeks off for the Holidays.

Seeing their hands intertwined effortlessly made Arya smile as she said, "Well, to tell you the truth, I'm ready for school to be over but terrified the day after graduation." She then took a sip of champagne as she felt Gendry's hand over her lower back rub her affectionately as if to put her at ease. It worked.

Daenerys, who was standing next to Missandei's other side, said, "You're going to be fine."

Arya appreciated the sentiment as she looked at her best friend's sweater dress: Three kittens in the present box, all pawing at real ornaments from part of the tree. She smirked. "Of course, your dress would have cats on it."

Daenerys smiled. "You know it."

"Where's the trio? I haven't seen them for hours," Arya said.

Daenerys gave a half-smile. "I knew they would jump on the counters and eat food they shouldn't, so they're in my room, most likely very upset."

Arya chuckled. "Just wait until later..." Referring to a similar incident from months ago when the cats shredded pillows in retaliation.

Daenerys rolled her eyes. "Ha," she said dispassionately.

Just then, a waiter came with a platter of Gendry's fried mash potato balls.

"These are divine," Missandei said, grabbing one.

Grey worm, dressed in a classic patterned sweater with cookies and milk and Santa, munched on his third one and nodded. "Great job, man. I swear if there's still any left, I'm going to finish the Portobello Mushrooms. Those are excellently seasoned."

Gendry, who looked a little embarrassed at receiving such praise, smiled slowly. "Thanks—the seasoning is from Essos. A lot of the spices and herbs from there I use at my restaurant."

Daenerys finished her fried mash potato ball and said, "Thank you again, Gendry, for your lovely food." She smiled at him.

He nods in response and said, "Of course and if you will excuse us..." He pulls his hoodie over his head, showing the antlers, completing his ugly reindeer sweater. He looked at Arya, "Did you want to dance?" He shrugged.

"Sure," She puts her glass on the counter and takes his hand with hers, trying not to laugh at the antlers as they walk toward the Christmas tree where others were dancing. She turned around and saw the antlers again, this time unable to keep it in, and laughed out loud. "Oh, my Gods—you look cute but ridiculous!" The central part of his sweater was the reindeer's chest as if Gendry was a reindeer himself.

Gendry smiled. "And your sweater looks more normal than ugly," he remarked.  

Arya looked down at her dark gray sweater with a snow wolf in the middle with a red Santa hat as snowflakes rained all over. She then shrugged. "I don't care.” She then wrapped her arms around his neck, slightly pulling on an antler as Gendry smirked at her, making her laugh as they jumped to the upbeat music together. Watching the antlers bounce, she said, “I'm here, dancing and spending time with you—that's what matters to me." She kissed him on the lips, feeling him respond as they stopped dancing and made the kiss last the rest of the song, leaning against a stocking on the wall.

   Daenerys looked around the festive and lively room and saw guests talking, eating, laughing, and dancing. She spotted Meera in the kitchen talking with a young man unfamiliar to her, but as she saw Meera's small smile forming, she knew she was having a good time. She looked around and spotted them, grinning as she said, "You know, I've never seen Arya dance with anybody that wasn't a Stark." Daenerys held on to Margaery, dancing slowly together, two couples away from Arya and Gendry.

Margaery, who wore a light green sweater with a pattern of roses and mistletoe all over, lifted her head from her girlfriend's shoulder and saw the couple kissing and slow dancing to the newly changed song. She gave them a sly grin as she said, "I like them together."

Daenerys nodded in agreement. "Me too. I almost want to go to Winterfell and see everyone's reaction when they reveal they're in a relationship."

Margaery raised her brows. "So, she is going to tell them? I don't know—What I get from Arya is that she wants to keep their relationship a secret as long as possible. I mean, we may have not even known if we hadn't caught them..." She half-smiles, holding Daenerys closer to her.

"Knowing the Starks, I don't think she will be able to keep the secret this holiday, but..." She shrugged. "She can be very sneaky, so she might be able to pull it off." She looked at her girlfriend's headband, which had a small mistletoe sewed into it. She touches the mistletoe and says, "You were so creative with this."

Margaery gave her a sly smile. "Anything to keep doing this," She kisses Daenerys on the lips, her hands feeling the wool material as they landed on her ass, squeezing it.

Daenerys, felt so happy and in love, her hand in Margaery's silky hair as she pulled her closer to her, feeling their lips touch and move together.

As it neared two in the morning, the Condo quieted down. Christmas music continued to play but on a lower volume. About half of the guests remained. Arya opened her bedroom with Gendry's hand in hers and saw a couple of people in her bed, clothed, sleeping. There was even someone on the floor, snoring. She closed the door.

"Well, I didn't anticipate this." She said, leaning against the wall in the hall.

"What are you going to do?" Gendry asked.

"I don't want to kick them out—It just doesn't feel right once people had a good time here..."

"It's your bed—they should have fucking asked," Gendry scoffed.

"I kinda like you're angrier than me about this."

"If it were my bed—they would be out." He said matter-of-factly.

She chuckled. "Well, there is another solution to this." She raised her brow, giving Gendry a small grin as she leaned forward, kissing him, tasting chocolate. She moaned as she felt Gendry's hand on her cheek, pulling her closer, hoping he got what she meant.

"As you wish, Milady," he whispered against her lips before licking the bottom of her lip and kissing her harder.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.56

Lance had cleaned through his house twice, slightly panicked after Keith had called to say Coran was coming to speak to him in person. As far as he knew, he hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d kept his scheduled checkin calls with Coran, even secretly keeping a journal of his moods as Coran had asked. Sure, Coran sometimes came out for no reason other to than “to take a break from Platt”, he wasn’t stupid enough to believe that it wasn’t Coran checking in on him. So now that Coran was coming for some other reason, he’d cleaned every surface he could think of, changed the cat litter, cleaned up Kosmo’s morning puddle, baked a fresh tray of chocolate chip cookies, and had a small breakdown, all before 9am. Keith had said it was related to the feeling he had in the tunnels and that Coran would explain it all. His boyfriend doing a bang up job of making him worry instead of relieved to hear Keith’s voice. Curtis hadn’t been much company on the drive back, Lance suspected it was because he’d arranged to meet at Shiro at VOLTRON, only for his plans to fall through. It was kind of Hunk and Shay all over again, except Curtis was kind of half cursed and Shiro was... Shiro. The man had more moods than his phone had settings. If Shiro felt it was finally time to move on from Adam, then Lance would do everything he could to help the pair of them. He liked Curtis. He liked having someone else to talk to, even if all their conversations were slightly weird. Not that he’d ever replace Hunk or Pidge. Hunk just had other priorities now he and Shay were figuring things out, and Pidge was worried about him too much as it was. She didn’t always let it show, awkward about those kind of things. But she was more family than Luis and Veronica at this point.

Thinking of his siblings only added to his stress. Veronica and Luis had gotten into a small fight over him, with Veronica actually taking his side. If he’d wanted to hurt their Mami, he easily could have a hundred times over by now and she was sick of Luis being a busy body. It’d been years since he’d seen his sister and her two girls. But age had been kind to Veronica, barely a free hair visible. For a second Lance had wondered if she’d been turned, she was exactly how he last remembered her. Upset of his impromptu cleaning, Kosmo pawed at his leg. With no idea when to stop filling his face, his food now lived up on the bench with Blue’s. His precious daughter didn’t love having a brother, but he’d caught them snuggled together. Sure, Blue’s tail had been wagging and her expression one of “what the fuck is this thing?”, but gradually Kosmo was worming his way into her heart.

Picking up Kosmo, the puppy wagged his tail happily. He really didn’t like being alone. The first night Lance had tried to have him in his own doggy bed since Keith left, Kosmo had cried for hours, so Lance had moved him up to his bed. Waking to find a very large wet spot thanks to puppy pee. Thankfully he already had a waterproof mattress protector on his bed, thanks to his heats it was kind of necessity. Kissing Kosmo on the head, the puppy tried licking at his face, Lance tucking him up against him as he went about making tea to go with the cookies. He didn’t know why Coran couldn’t just call him. This waiting thing sucked. He wasn’t good at it. Not when it came to people he cared about.

Matt and Rieva were sent to clean up when they finally crawled out of bed. Matt grumbling over Lance disturbing their sleep. Flashing his teeth, his housemate backed off, Lance throwing his dramatic arse into the closet seat. He shouldn’t be freaking out. Coran had known him for years. He liked to think they’d long passed awkward house visits, but he was on edge as it was. He wanted to hurry up and be done with the tunnels, so Pidge could be excited about something else.

It was 10 o’clock when Shiro’s white sedan finally pulled up in front of his house. Rushing to the front door, he found Coran enthusiastically praising Shiro’s driving. Bounding past his feet, Kosmo klutzed up and fell down the front veranda steps with excitement, picking himself back up, his whole body was wagging as his little body bounded towards Shiro. Scooping up the excitable pup, Shiro was lucky he held Kosmo away from him as the puppy peed in excitement. Shiro grimacing, waiting until Kosmo was done before handing him off to Keith. Keith didn’t care about the pee as he cradled his fur son, smiling as Kosmo licked at every part of him that he could

“Hello, baby. I missed up”

Resisting the urge to gush over his boyfriend was easy when he felt sick to stomach over Coran. Coran’s enthusiasm turning to gushing over the puppy. If Coran was this cheerful then Lance was overreacting

“Hey, guys. Come on in”

Causal. He hoped he sounded casual. Shiro started towards the house, Coran and Keith much slower as they fussed over Kosmo

“Hey, Lance. How’s things?”

“Good. I’ve got fresh cookies and tea waiting”

Coran shot him a smile, yet Lance knew his attention was still focused on Kosmo

“Excellent, my boy. Sorry for the unplanned visit”

“It’s fine. Keith called ahead”

Keith paused on the front steps to kiss his cheek. Lance kind of disappointed it wasn’t a proper kiss, but happy he was there for whatever reason. Heading indoors, Lance led the group through the kitchen. Matt and Rieva had already started on the cookies, but seeing he’d made four dozen, there were still plenty left to go around. Sitting in his usual seat, he left his lap open for Keith, Keith instead sitting next to him. Coran being Coran went straight to pouring tea for everyone, as Shiro sat himself down at the opposite end of the table and next to Curtis.

When the tea was ready, Coran started passing out the cups

“I expect you’re somewhat confused what I’m doing here”

“A bit. I mean, it hasn’t been that long since I saw you”

“I know. I wouldn’t have come, but Keith mentioned you were heading back into the tunnels beneath Garrison and you had a negative reaction the first time”

Lance squirmed. Negative was putting it nicely. And Coran coming out over the tunnels seemed overly weird

“I told you about them before”

He had. He didn’t get why Coran was making a fuss now. Maybe he’d found something?

“That you did, but I’m afraid I have a bit of bad news. I thought perhaps offering assistance on this would help ease what I have to say”

“You know I hate it when you word it like that”

Coran set a cup of tea before him. Lance taking the cup in his hands to give himself something to focus on

“I do. There’s... a bit of an issue at headquarters. You know we service all vampires in the area. We have a new vampire in Platt. I don’t believe he’d be interested in you, yet it has been many years since I last saw him”

Lance couldn’t help the laughter that came from relief. The rest of the table staring at him like he was crazy

“You had me worried! If you want me to keep my distance you could have told me on the phone”

It wasn’t that funny. His laughter dying away within a few moments. He felt so much lighter for knowing, even if it did compound the fact he’d stupidly overreacted

“I know. I wanted to tell you seeing how things have been lately. It seems he may have picked up your scent. I’m quite confident he has no idea who you are, only that you’re quite unusual”

Lance sobered. That was one way of putting it. The other was saying he was basically catnip to vampires, which he was

“I get it. You told me I was going to have to live more carefully than ever before”

“I’m so glad you understand. I must admit I didn’t sleep well last night. I care quite a lot for you, my boy”

Lance nodded

“I know. You’re not being mean, you’re trying to protect me. It’s fine. Now, why are you asking about the tunnels”

Coran sat himself down beside Keith, nursing his cup of tea near his chest

“I’m concerned you may be more in-tune with death than ever. Can you describe what you felt?”

Lance sighed. He didn’t need to see ghosts any clearer than he already did... or didn’t

“Revolting. Like someone had filled the whole place with residue of death, and like... like I had confess all my sins. I wasn’t feeling that great before we headed in, but I definitely started feeling better again above ground”

Coran hummed, Matt stopping munching long enough to ask

“Should we be worried? I know Lance was in the mine shaft tunnels, but if he’s feeling ill from the town ones, does that mean something’s down there that could hurt Pidge?”

“I’m not sure. A creature down there for that long would have long gone mad. I felt it best I give it a quick check, before you and your friends make the trip down”

Coran must have really been on edge thanks to this new vampire. He didn’t need to come make the precheck on Lance’s activities, still, he had. Lance wondered if Coran was feeling overly cautious and fearful for his safety because he knew this new vampire was bad news, or if it was related to him being a breeder and the vampire being new to town

“It didn’t feel like something living. There was much pain and regret. It was like... I don’t know. I wanted to go church the moment I came back up again”

Lance closed his eyes, trying to block the feelings of the tunnels rising inside him

“That concerns me. Let’s enjoy our spot of tea and be in our way over”

*

Lance drove Keith, Matt, and Rieva to the pub. Matt was excited over seeing the tunnels ahead of the weekend, Rieva annoyed their morning had been interrupted by something so trivial, and Keith kept casting him sideways glances because Lance has suggested maybe he and Shiro stay home at the last moment. Lance unable to share any enthusiasm Matt had. He’d been left cold and clammy at the mere thought. Pulling into the first parking back closest to the pub, he most definitely didn’t want to go in there.

Keith and Lance hung back as the group, now led by Coran, headed into the pub. Brushing shoulders was the most intimate they could be, but Lance was struggling not to hold Keith’s hand

“Babe?”

Of course Keith wanted to talk

“I’m fine... I’m a bit edgy”

“I can see that. If you don’t want to go down there, Coran will understand”

To have the luxury not to go would be nice

“No. I have to. Coran could be in danger, plus he probably wants to observe the effects of the tunnel”

“If everything goes smoothly, why don’t we have lunch here? We can send the others back ahead to your place”

“That’d be nice, but I don’t think I’ll be much company”

“I don’t mind. Or we could leave them here and head back to yours”

“Mmm. That sounds better. No offence”

“None taken. I’m sorry I freaked you out”

“Some warning would have been nice, but it is what it is. I really don’t want to do this. I was still psyching myself up for the weekend”

“I would have come, if I could have”

Lance felt a tiny bit better about that. He wanted to head home and cuddle with Keith, not be forced to adult

“I know. Can you answer something for me. Is Coran worried because I’m a breeder or is this new vampire dangerous. I totally get if you can’t and all...”

“He’s up to something. He used to be friends with Allura”

“The fact he used to be friends isn’t making me feel better. Allura is practically one of the nicest people I know”

“I can’t say much... but I don’t like him”

That was so Keith. His boyfriend had walls a mile thick. Not quick to trust but when he did, he was the kind of man who’d do anything for the people he cared about

“Okay. I’m sorry for asking about work”

“It’s fine if it’s you. We better join the others”

Coran was already talking to the publican. The poor man opened at 10:30 and now they were ruining his day already. He didn’t seem happy to see Keith and Lance, not that Lance could blame him. Pidge could be a tyrant at negotiating for what she wanted, and he had a business to run. The man didn’t have time to deal with paranormal investigators.

Coran pulled some kind of Jedi mind trick, getting them access without fighting or yelling. As they headed downstairs, Lance’s hand slipped into Keith’s, Keith squeezing firmly

“It’s okay, babe. I’m right here. A quick in and out and then we’ll be headed home”

Leaning into his boyfriend, Keith nuzzled into him, kissing the spot on his hairline . Lance wishing the kiss was enough to force the sick feeling from his body. It was already taking everything he had no to throw up on his feet. Talk about psychosomatic symptoms right there

“Yeah. I know... I hope Coran lets you stay the afternoon”

Keith probably had to go straight back to work. Lance didn’t want to interrupt him working, but he was pathetically addicted to Keith’s cuddles

“So do I... but we probably have to go back to work. We’re in the middle of investigating this shitty club”

“Let me guess, it’s shitty because you can’t drink?”

“That’s part of it. There were pets”

Lance wrinkled his nose. Keith was probably more used to seeing pets than he was, but that didn’t make it any more tasteful. The thought of collaring Keith stroked his ego, as much as it hurt his heart to think of a caged Keith. Keith with his freedom and sense of self worth was the Keith he wanted. Obedient Keith would be too freaking weird... Nope. He wanted his anger loaf as his partner not his pet

“If I ever make you feel like I pet, I hope you punch me in the dick for it”

“I will. You ready?”

“As ready as I’ll never be”

Letting them through to tunnels, Lance felt ill immediately, covering his mouth with his hand as Coran examined ahead. Shiro was using the light of his phone to guide him, Curtis and Keith. Following Coran for a good 5 minutes of torturous silence, Coran finally came to a stop

“How do you feel?”

Like there was an itch under his skin and he really shouldn’t be there. Like whatever lingered wanted him gone

“Not great”

“I’m going to try something. Let me know if you can see it”

Coran placed his hand on the wall, blue lines radiated outwards like spiderwebs. Lance reasoned in awe that this had to be what magic looked like. Coran trigging it with his own. The feeling of death now so heavily pushing against him that his shoulders hunched. His head felt ready to split in two, as his fangs lengthened. Behind him, Shiro started to call out as a savage snarl filled the space, half turning, he found himself eyeing Matt, who Rieva was trying to hold back both her boyfriend and her own transformation, her eyes already yellowing as wrapped her arms around Matt in a losing battle

“Keith, look out!”

Acting on instinct, Lance shoved Keith aside, his body acting as shield for Coran. Sharps claws tore through his jacket and shirt like a knife through warm butter. Screaming in pain, Matt’s teeth sank deeply into his shoulder, his weight driving Lance to his knees as something snapped. Blood filled the air, Lance fighting to stay conscious

“Get out of here! Move, now!”

Grabbing Keith by the arm, Coran pulled him to stand behind him. Shiro already helping Curtis towards the way out. Falling under Matt, Lance twisted, driving his hand up to smack under the wolf’s jaw. His right arm looked nasty, the blow only stopping Matt for a moment before his claws were tearing into Lance’s chest. Coran was saying something, saying something then grabbing Matt around the neck. When Matt went to snap at Coran, Lance’s left arm round its way into Matt’s mouth by accident as he was trying to grab the wolf by his bottom jaw. For a moment, Matt’s eyes glowed yellow, before his wolf form was slumping over Lance. Everything was happening too fast. Lance couldn’t keep up. Dimly he heard Keith calling his name, followed by a voice he definitely didn’t want to hear... then there was nothing.

[minheefreckles]

Headcannon - X1 hyung line as boyfriends

Word count: 1.9k

Warning(s): none!

Genre: Fluff, bulletpoint scenario, headcannon

Requested?: Yes!

Seungwoo

Seungwoo would first and foremost be a very very caring boyfriend

It doesn’t matter if he’s busy or not, if you tell him that you miss him and want some cuddles or something, he would drop everything he’s currently doing to go to you and give you those cuddles >:((

Even if you scolded him playfully saying that he shouldn’t drop everything just for you, he would be like “mm ok baby” and just continue nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck

He would also be very protective, not in a “you shouldn’t wear that revealing piece of clothing outside” kinda way, but rather in a “if somebody hurts you, i’ll kill them” way

If you trip or something and you’re injured, expect him to immediately whip out a first aid kit out of nowhere and start tending to your injury, even if you two are in public

He would absolutely be the type to scold you lightly, saying stuff like “you’re so clumsy, you need to be more careful!”

But if he sees you getting sad and guilty because of his scolding, then he’ll just smile slightly and after tending to your injury, he’ll kiss it lightly, which never fails to make you smile

Seungwoo would also definitely not mind PDA

He loves showing his affection for you

Giving you eskimo kisses or grasping your hand in his and swinging them side to side

Those were a few of his favorite things to do with you

If you’re feeling upset and need somebody to listen to you ranting about your problems, Seungwoo is the perfect man for that

Imagine the two of you laying down on your couch, your head on his chest and your arms around his torso or waist

As you get more comfortable, you start to spill out all the things that have been troubling you lately

Seungwoo listens to every single one of your problems, giving small advice sometimes or letting out some “mm”s to let you know that he’s still listening very attentively

After you finish your rant, most of the time, he would give you his own opinion on the situation and after discussing it out, he would sing to you in his soft voice and you would eventually fall asleep, lulling you to sleep

In your relationship, Seungwoo would most likely be the one to organize dates

His favorite dates would be just the both of you baking some cookies or something on the weekends or after work/school and then sitting down and enjoying them while watching a movie on netflix

Maybe it is kinda childish and old-fashioned but it just warms his heart when he sees you giggling while dipping a cookie in a glass of milk and gently munching on them

in conclusion, seungwoo is a very caring boyfriend whose main priority would be your well-being and happiness :))

Seungyoun

A relationship with Seungyoun would be sooo much fun

And also very spontaneous

When you’re with him, you will absolutely never get bored or sad

He’s always there to cheer you up, whether it’ll be telling you cheesy pick up lines he googled online to make you crack a smile

or suddenly showing up at your place with your favorite movies and food to cheer you up after a hard day of work

Seungyoun is the type of guy to show you love with both words and actions just to make sure that you really understand that he loves you so so much

He would definitely be clingy, always back-hugging you with his chin on your shoulder or cuddling you or telling you that he loves you at least 15 times a day

Yes, “I love you” is very special, but since he’s absolutely 100% sure he loves you, he isn’t afraid of saying it often

One of his habits would be to text you every morning a sweet reminder that he loves you and tells you to have a good day

exhibit one: “good morning sunshine! hope you’re having a good day! did you sleep well?”

or “hIII!! *insert a fuckton of heart emoji* are you up yet, babe?  did you dream of me last night ;)))))”

You guys go on a lot of last-minute planned dates, although sometimes, on important occasions, he’ll plan them in advance

He just wants to explore the world with you!!

Expect his instagram feed to be plenty of candid pics he took of you while you weren’t looking

Even though he’s very free and happy most of the time, if he ever sees you crying or getting hurt, he’ll immediately turn into serious mode >:((

Gently putting an arm around your shoulders or cradling you in his arms to indirectly you know that he’s there for you

“Whats wrong babe?” :(((((

All in all, Seungyoun’s just a very precious bf please protecc

Wooseok

wooseok, first of all, would be a very clingy and cheesy boyfriend

he may look shy and delicate in public, but when he’s alone with you, he’s just so adorable and cheesy

he adores when you take care of him and give him attention

he’s definitely the type to put his contact name in your phone as something like “my handsome prince wooseok 💓💕💖💗💘💙💚💛💜💝💞💟🧡❤️🖤”

Or the type to take 100+ selfies on your phone just “so you can look at his pictures when you miss him :))”

Even though he’s pretty confident in himself, he would be very shy when you initiate PDA

He’s just so used to be the one to initiate it so when you hug him or peck his cheeks, he would be blushing so hard and whining

“Ah, how do you expect me to stay calm when you’re so cute??”

Most of the time though, he’ll be the fine to initiate pda

He absolutely adores back-hugging you and nuzzling his face in your hair (because he loves the smell of your shampoo but doesn’t want to admit it in case you thought it would be creepy sjsjsj)

Wooseok would honestly also be the type to take you out on very aesthetic-ish dates and take a fuckton of pictures and post the best one on his very aesthetic instagram

You guys are pretty t h e aesthetic couple

Dates on coffee or walks to the ice cream shop would be pretty frequent

But most of the time, quality time at home alone, watching tv on the couch and cuddling, those would be the type of dates you guys would enjoy the most together

He also loves calling you cheesy nicknames out of the blue just to see your reaction

Finds you so adorable when you get all flustered and blushing and would pinch your cheeks while muttering about how he’s so lucky to have such a cute significant other

He would also be so extra

Does that thing where he pretends to search for something in his pocket and then gives you a finger heart

He also absolutely adores it when you wear his clothes

Will flip his shit if he sees you wear one of his t-shirts

He’d just be so shy and he automatically hides his face in his hands while hiding a small smile

He’ll drown you with even more love and affection

to sum it up, he just loves you so much and he’s so soft :((

Yohan

A relationship with Yohan would be chaotic, in the best way possible

Just like Seungyoun, he loves exploring the world with you, maybe in a less spontaneous way though

Will try to teach you taekwondo but you guys just end up cuddling and giggling on the mat

He loves taking you out on small, casual dates

Walks to the Han river or bike rides in a park

They’re his favorite types of dates because, since he loves both you and sports, he gets to spend time with the things/people he enjoys the most

He tries to be cheesy (lowkey asks Seungyoun and Wooseok to teach him pick up lines), but fails most of the time because he ends up cringing at himself and awkwardly giggling

You’re his own personal teddy bear, because he just loves to hug you 24/7

Gripping your waist tightly between his strong arms and lifting you up, smiling as he hears you squeal and finally putting you down when you start hitting his arm

It’s you guys’ own form of banter and even if the others always look at you strangely every time you do it, you both still find it so funny and adorable

Yohan would love to take you out on cafe dates, where he tries to take aesthetic candid pics of you but fails and only has blurry pics, but still uploads them on insta because “you’re always pretty no matter the quality of the pic”

Would spoil you with a lot of gifts and as much as you love every one of them and appreciate it, you try to make him understand that you love him not because of his gifts, but for his personality

So in the end, he tones it down a bit lol but you still love him all the same

Loves waking you up early to go do some morning exercises and always loves seeing you whine because its too early

But he always manages to convince you with a whiny “please :((( for me :(((“ and his puppy face

You guys ends up sitting down and seeing the sunrise together !!

In conclusion :) yohan is a precious bub

Hangyul

Ok but imagine tsundere!hangyul :)

I feel like Hangyul would treat you just like the guys, like a friend, maybe a bit less roughly, when you’re in public or with the others

PDA would be very casual when there’s other people around, his arm’s usually around your shoulder and he would give you a kiss on the forehead from time to time

But when you two are alone, he would definitely get more shy

He would get so flustered if you were the one to initiate all types of affection

Most of the times, he seems very cold and distant, but he’s just shy :((

If he’s having a bad day, he wouldn’t go to you and open himself, etc

He would go to his room and start sulking, waiting for you to come cuddle him and comfort him softly, and that’s most of the time exactly what you do

You would be the big spoon and lace your arm around his waist, tangling your legs together, your hand softly tousling his hair, and you guys would stay like that until he either falls asleep or feels better or both lol

Most of you guys’ dates would just be watching netflix or tv at home

If you’re scared of horror movies, he would put one on just so you can cuddle in his arms when there’s a jumpscare and would tease you for it after

And oh my god, hangyul would love teasing you so much

However, if he realizes that you’re insecure about something, he would never never tease you about it

On the contrary, he would tell you that he loves every part about you, including your insecurity

I feel like he would also love showing off his muscles, for some reason??

Just randomly flexing his biceps when you’re cooking and being all cocky

You guys would also have plenty of inside jokes in the relationship, which sometimes earns you strange looks from strangers or the other members

In the end, a relationship with hangyul would be very very fun and wholesome :)

Hyung line - Maknae line (to be continued)

Masterlist 

[thewritewolf]

Two Cursed Detectives in Paris Chapter 5: A Date With Chouette

After some trial and error, our heroes finally get Adrien and Marinette on the right track.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 (Final)

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

“You can do this,” Connor said from behind Adrien, hands resting on his shoulders in what he hoped was an encouraging way.

“I can do this,” Adrien replied much less confidently, hands busy fiddling with the ring on his finger. They both watched from their spot behind the bushes at the park as Marinette sat with Eerie. Both of the girls were deeply engrossed in their conversation, whatever it was about.

“You’re gonna march over there.”

“Uh-huh.” Adrien nodded.

“And you’re gonna ask her out. Just say, ‘hey, I like you. Wanna go out on a date?’”

“But I can’t just say that!”

“Then,” Connor rubbed his forehead as he wracked his brain for an answer. How long had it been since he had done this whole flirting thing? The closest he got was hanging out with Eerie. “Maybe start off by giving her a compliment or something. Like say that her dress is pretty. Then move into the date stuff. Got that?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good. Now go show ‘em everything I’ve taught you, kid!” Connor gave Adrien a shove toward the girls, pushing him out from their cover. While he watched, he pulled some leaves off the bush to munch on as a side show snack.

Stiffly, Adrien walked toward them. Marinette and Eerie had their backs to him and wouldn’t notice him until he was already there. Or, at least, that was how it was supposed to go. Instead, just when Adrien was a couple feet away, Marinette burst out laughing. To Connor’s surprise, this caused Adrien to sprint away.

Adrien passed Connor’s hiding spot, letting him see just how red his face had gotten, all while mumbling to himself, “I can’t do this, I can’t do this.” Connor sighed.

“Wow… teenagers.” He stepped out from cover and went to go find Adrien. Heaven knows he wasn’t about to let Adrien go through this alone. All he needed was another pep talk and they could try again.

He spared a look toward his partner just in time to see her smile. For a moment, he forgot what he was doing before shaking himself out of it and went looking for Adrien.

------------------

“Do you remember the plan?” Eerie watched Marinette, trying to get a read on her thoughts. Marinette nodded, but from the way she was biting her lower lip and shifting her weight between her feet, Eerie wasn’t so sure. “Walk me through it then.”

“I walk up to… to Adrien,” Marinette said, her eyes still locked on the boy in question. “And then I give him this.” She held up the pink, heart-shaped note. Eerie worried that Marinette was going to tear it apart from how hard she was holding onto it.

“Right,” Eerie said, squeezing Marinette’s arm comfortingly. She eased up with her stranglehold on the note. “That’s all you need to do. Just follow the plan and you’ll be alright.”

“Just follow the plan…” Marinette pursed her lips and nodded. “Okay, I’m doing it.”

They both stood in place.

“...Are you sure you can’t do it for me?”

“I’m not going to be handing teenagers love letters today, thank you.” Eerie smiled sadly at her. “This is all up to you, sweetie. Just don’t overthink it.”

Marinette gave her a determined nod. “Don’t… overthink it. Right right right. I can do that. Definitely not overthinking this, no ma’am. I am not going to think about how I could trip and knock him over into the dirt, ruining his designer shirt.” She rushed forward, hugging Eerie and wailing into her sternum. Hesitantly, she returned the hug. While she wasn’t much for touching, she could tell the girl needed it. “I’m overthinking it, Eerie!”

“Take a few deep breaths with me, okay?” The next minute was spent just breathing in and out until Marinette had calmed down a little. “Feel better? Good. Now you listen to me.” Eerie put her hands on her hips. “You are going to go over there and give the love of your life this adorable little note and I promise he will be over the moon about it. Got it?” Marinette bobbed her head quickly. “Good, now go!”

Brimming with confidence, Marinette turned around on her heel and practically dashed toward her crush… only to charge head first into an open trash can. Eerie’s eyes widened as she covered her mouth with her hands. Naturally, Adrien began walking away at just that moment, being none the wiser that they had ever even been there.

Shaking her head, Eerie walked over to help Marinette out of the trash can. This was going to be harder than she thought.

--------------

It turned out to be surprisingly easy, if a little underhanded. Not that Connor minded that much, of course. After you’ve picked locks and pockets in the name of justice, what was a little deception to get two kids together? And really, what was so bad about a little text to each of their kids saying to meet in a certain spot? It was all worth it in the end, and Adrien had even forgiven Connor for the ruse, even if he had to let Adrien win a few matches of Ultimate Mecha Strike to help the process along.

Fast forward to a few days later and the date had arrived. Naturally, Connor and Eerie would be keeping an eye on things from a distance.

Of course, keeping an eye on them was proving harder than he had expected. Not because of anything that they were doing - Marinette and Adrien were essentially just staring into each others eyes and giggling their way through a conversation over dinner at the moment. No, it was because of his ever so wonderful partner.

Connor had long accepted that Eerie was pretty in much the same way that he had accepted the sky was generally blue and pine cones were a delicious after dinner snack. That is, it was just something that was and it wasn’t worth thinking too hard about it. But the restaurant they were at was just a touch fancy (or maybe it was just because it was French?). Which meant that they needed to dress up a little.

While they waited for their food in a mostly comfortable silence, Connor agonized if he should say anything about it. Would it be awkward if he told her she was looking especially pretty today? For reasons he tried not to dwell on, the very thought of it twisted his gut into knots. They were partners, coworkers. She was his boss and he was hers. It would be a weird thing to say.

Right?

Thankfully the food arrived and set his mind at ease like magic. Food was something he could wrap his head around. It didn’t give him complicated feelings. He was halfway towards shoveling the first forkful into his mouth when he looked across the table at Eerie.

His gut was upset for an entirely different reason when he saw her carving up a steak so rare he could practically still hear it mooing. She happened to glance up at him at that moment and saw the expression on his face, matching it with an exasperated look.

“Really? This again?” She put her elbow on the table and pointed an accusatory finger at him. “You’re the one that’s always saying I should indulge my curse more. Well, owls are predators.”

“Still… how can you eat something like that?” Connor shivered and looked down at his own plate, taking a few tentative bites.

“What- Are you- Are you serious?” She leaned closer to him and dropped her voice to a whisper. “I’ve seen you eat candle wax before and you’re lecturing me about a rare steak?!”

“Well, yeah.” Connor rolled his eyes. “Candle wax is good.”

“No! It isn’t! It’s not even human food!”

“You’ve never even tried it before!”

“Because it isn’t edible!”

“That’s just quitter talk.”

Eerie closed her eyes and sighed, but Connor could see the hint of a smile playing at her lips. “Just… eat your salad. We need to be ready to leave as soon as the kids do.”

---------------------

Reaching to her side, Eerie cautiously put a hand in the bag of popcorn sitting on Connor’s lap. Although he had promised he would only put normal things in it, one too many times of sharing food with him had taught her to always be on guard. Thankfully, all she found was popcorn - perfectly salted and buttered.

They were seated way in the back, practically against the wall. The stereotypical place for teenagers to hide and make out, and where she had been afraid Adrien and Marinette would gravitate towards. Thankfully, they were far too innocent of beans and ended up in the middle of the theater. With her night vision, it was easy to pick them out in the crowd. It might not have been Eerie’s choice for a first date, but they at least seemed to be enjoying themselves. She relaxed in her seat.

As Eerie reached for some more, she saw his hand moving something toward the bag. She snared his wrist and glared at him in the dark.

“‘s just some m&ms…” He mumbled, like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar.

“A likely story. Put it back.” She let him go and he slowly dropped his hand to his side, sulking in his spot for the next few minutes.

Connor perked up and nudged her, pointing at the kids. Adrien was stretching his hands above his head, only to set one arm down behind Marinette. If she hadn’t just watched it play out in front of her, Eerie would have called it too cliche to have happened.

“I taught him that,” he whispered to her proudly.

“You taught him a move from a cheesy romantic comedy?” She whispered back.

“Yup! And it worked like a charm.”

Eerie had to admit that it did. At first, Marinette had tensed up a little, but she soon relaxed into his touch. The two of them were huddled a little closer together. Every now and again, Marinette would shake, almost as if she was suppressing a laugh.

Watching them interact was almost cuter than the movie itself, but soon enough the movie ended. Eerie and Connor almost lost them there, the sudden return of the lights making them blink in stupor.

They spotted them quickly and tailed them out of the theater, with neither of the kids any the wiser.

------------------

The last part of the date ended up being a walk in the park. Not in the figurative sense, but in a very literal one. As pretty as the public gardens were in the light of the sunset, there wasn’t much to hold Connor’s attention in the same way that the previous two locations had. Which meant that he couldn’t be blamed for how he got his entertainment.

Sadly, Eerie didn’t see it that way.

“Are you eating grass?” There was a hint of disgust to her voice that he had come to fondly recognize.

He swallowed the grass he had been eating. “No.”

“Can’t you at least… take in the sights or something? There is so much beauty here! It’s a Parisian garden - this is the stuff that romance is made out of!”

Connor slowly looked around. Admittedly, the scene was rather pretty, but it almost felt like it was aimed at a different audience than him. His eyes landed on a red flower that had escaped the confines of one of the garden beds. He glanced at Eerie. Seeing that her attention was in the opposite direction, he scampered over and snagged it before returning to their spot.

“What are you doing?” Eerie asked as he began putting it in her hair.

Which is precisely the moment Connor realized there wasn’t a good answer to that question. He shrugged and replied, “I thought it would look nice.” He gestured lamely at her head. “It matches your bow and your eyes.”

Connor rubbed the back of his neck, feeling embarrassed. At least, until Eerie took the flower from his hand. He looked back in surprise as she put it in her hair, much more securely than he would have been able to. She gave him a brief, shy smile.

“Thanks. I like it.”

He was about to respond when he looked past her and cursed. “We lost the kids!”

Eerie’s head whipped around and huffed. “They can’t have gotten fair.” They stood up and started walking towards the exit. Eerie tapped at her chin. “Hm… which one is closer, Marinette’s home or Adrien’s?”

“Marinette’s, right?”

“I think so. C’mon!”

Running might have seemed suspicious, but the power walk they settled for wasn’t exactly sparing them from curious stares either. They ultimately arrived at the bakery just as the two were saying their goodbyes to each other. Presumably, at least. They weren’t close enough to make out any words over the ambient noise of the city.

Although, speaking of make outs, Connor’s eyes widened when he saw Marinette rock forward on her toes and give Adrien a quick peck on the cheek before vanishing behind the door to her home. Even as far as they were, they could make out her shouted, “GOOD NIGHT ADRIEN I LOVE YOU.”

For his part, Adrien simply reached up to touch his cheek where she had kissed him. How he was still standing when it was clear that he should have melted into a puddle was anyone’s guess. Somehow he managed to walk away, a dopey smile still on his face.

Connor and Eerie, on the other hand, struggled with what they had just witnessed. They pointedly avoided looking at each other, scarlet red blushes covering most of their faces.

“It’s probably just, um… Just a French thing?” Connor said, the statement more a question than anything.

“Yeah… Yeah! The French give each other cheek kisses all the time. They’re very… very…”

“Open?”

“Yes- No!” Eerie shook her head. “Very touchy feely I mean.”

“Ha. A lot like me then.” Connor waggled his fingers in front of him, drawing a giggle out of Eerie.

“A little, I suppose.” She sighed. “Mission successful. Let’s go back to the hotel, okay?”

“You got it, boss.”

[bgn846]

Good things come in small packages   FFXV Fic

Summary:            

Prompto isn't sure what's going on with Noct, he's not heard from him all day. However, when he stops by to check Prompto is in for a big, or rather a small surprise.

Work Text:          

Waiting for the bell to ring for the last class of the day was excruciating. Prompto was trying not to freak out, but it wasn’t working. His anxiety was due mostly to the fact that his best friend hadn’t answered any of his texts since yesterday afternoon.  Noct would normally tell him if he was going to miss class, but so far he’d heard nothing.

Once the bell rang, his worry hadn’t eased up as Prompto raced from the school and towards the bus stop. He had to go see if Noct was home, at least that way he’d know if he was alright.  Prompto had Ignis’ number but he was honestly too scared to call it. The advisor had assured him it was okay to call anytime but Prompto was still nervous. Ignis was an intimidating guy and he didn’t want to upset him.

The funny feeling in his gut was still making his chest tight. Something had occurred, he was sure of it, but Prompto was loath to figure out exactly why. Once you had knowledge it was hard to forget it. When Prompto entered Noct’s building, he could barely stand still as the guard checked him in. The elevator ride was torture as well, being trapped in a small space was bad enough but today the ride took forever.

When the doors swished open Prompto found himself running down the hall. Without pause, he pushed the buzzer at Noct’s apartment and waited.  A noise erupted from behind the door followed by what sounded like Ignis’ raised voice. Prompto had no time to dwell on the matter when the door swiftly unlocked and whooshed open.

Nothing in his short life could have prepared him for what lay on the other side of the door. A small child not more than six was standing there smiling up at him.  The thing that nearly caused his heart to stop was who the kid resembled. Dark hair, blue eyes, the unmistakable smirk he was sporting. However, that was impossible, this kid simply looked like Noct, it wasn’t him.

Unable to do much else besides stand and gape, Prompto flinched when Ignis suddenly appeared. “Hey,” he uttered weakly.

“Noctis, what have I told you about answering the door when you don’t know who’s there?” Ignis chided as he glared at the small child.

“But it’s funnnnnnn,” the little kid replied with a wicked grin as he bounced around hanging onto the doorknob.

“Good thing it’s your friend Prompto,” Ignis added. “Otherwise, you’d be in big trouble.  What should we do now that he’s here? Shall we invite him in?”

The kid nodded and looked back over to him, “Wha’s your name again?”

“P-Prompto,” he managed in a hoarse whisper.

“Cool, wanna come in?”

Prompto couldn’t think of what else to say so he merely nodded and focused on not tripping over the threshold. It was impolite to stare, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the kid walking in front of him. A touch to his arm broke the spell and he looked up to see Ignis quirk an eyebrow.

“You seem pale; please tell me if you feel faint.”

Gesturing towards the kid, Prompto grimaced and shrugged.

“It’s only temporary, I’ll tell you more in a moment,” Ignis offered as they went towards the kitchen. “Noct, why don’t you sit down at the bar so I can feed you a snack?”

“Don’t stick anything icky in it like last time.” Noct chastised, I won’t eat it, no matter what you say!”

Ignis rolled his eyes in a familiar fashion and began rummaging around in the drawers, “So, would you like to explain to your friend what happened, Noct?”

“Oh yeah!” Noct shouted gleefully as he turned in the bar seat he’d somehow managed to climb up onto. “I have magic!” The smile on the kid's face was nearly too much, Noct looked so excited by this development.

Swallowing hard Prompto thought of what to say next, “Can – can you show me?”

“Uh, I dunno how, but Specs says I do, that’s why he’s bigger than me right now.” Noct enthused as he swiveled in the seat and held his arms out.

“Do you remember me?” Prompto asked with a hint of worry.  None of this made any sense, but it didn’t stop him from trying to find some common ground.

Noct scrunched up his nose and shook his head, “Nope, but Specs says you’re my friend right?”

“Yes, yes I am. We go to school together.”

“What! I have to go to school? That sucks!”

“Language highness,” Ignis called out from near the fridge.

“I’m not going to school!” he pouted.

A long-suffering sigh erupted from Ignis as he turned and stared at Noct. “What a pity I was going to send you to school after our snack, but now you don’t want to go.  What shall we do instead? I can make you clean up your room perhaps?” Ignis pondered with a smirk.

“NO! I’m not cleaning up my room either!”

Some things hadn’t changed it seemed. Still terribly confused as to what had actually happened Prompto tried again to find out. “Uh, why are you, why is he – Ignis?”

“Someone tested out a new magic technique and didn’t get it right,” Ignis announced calmly.

“How? What did he do?”

“What’d who do?” Noct asked with wide eyes.  “I wanna know too!”

“Prompto and I are merely discussing another friend of ours, highness.”

“Which one? It’s not daddy, is it? He looked different when he was here earlier but he seemed okay.”

“Your father is fine, do you want a cookie or a granola bar?”

Noct instantly forgot his initial question and asked for the cookie. Prompto could only sit and watch as his friend happily munched on the item.  It really was Noct, all his mannerisms were the same, even the way he ate.  “How long will it last?” Prompto asked quietly, hoping Noct wouldn’t notice.

“The king suspects only a few days at most,”

“And there are no memories from before, right?”

“None, only what he had up until this point in life.”

“That is so trippy.”

“Agreed, though he seems to be happy eno--,” Ignis stopped mid-sentence when the door buzzed and Noct perked up.  “Don’t,” Ignis admonished.

The advisor's words meant nothing as Noct giggled and jumped off the stool, half eaten cookie still in hand. Ignis went to make chase but stopped when he heard the door unlocking. It was someone with keys, therefore Noct was safe.   Unsure as to whom it was exactly, Prompto waited to see what would happen next.

When a high pitched squeal erupted from the hallway, Prompto nearly got up to check.  However, a second later Noct came bounding around the corner, a bright smile on his face.  Gladio appeared right after, chasing the prince with an equally silly face.

“I’m gonna getcha!” he shouted as he chased Noct around the living room.”

Prompto realized that this must have been how Gladio acted when Iris was younger, always the big brother, no matter the circumstance.  By the time the shield had captured Noct and flipped him upside down Prompto had a smile on his face too. Watching Noct laugh and kick his legs made him happy.

Gladio tickled and tossed Noct around for a few minutes until he went limp. “Too much for ya huh? That’s what you get for answering the door without Iggy,” he added shifting Noct’s now pliant frame around so he could hold him better. The prince easily melted into the embrace and rested his head on Gladio’s shoulder.  

Ignis groaned at the statement, “You have to stop telling him that, he ran to open it earlier when Prompto arrived.

“Is that why he looked so excited?” Prompto asked finally understanding the behavior.

“Yes, he thought you were going to chase him like Gladio.”

“Ahh, I see.”

“Can I have another cookie?” Noct asked as Gladio sat down at the bar with him.

“No, you may not, you didn’t even finish the first one.” Ignis made a face when Noct whined pitifully and leaned away from Gladio to catch his shield's eye better.

“Gladdy, I want another cookie.”

“Oi, don’t ask me, princess, that’s Iggy’s decision not mine.”

Noct sighed and flopped his head back down on Gladio’s shoulder.

“I was going to suggest you play some video games with Prompto but since you’ve indicated you want a cookie instead, I’m not sure what to d--.”

“I wanna play video games!” Noct shouted as he squirmed to get away from Gladio’s hold. The shield eased him down to the floor and Noct took off towards the tv.  “Somebody help me!” he added a second later as he stood staring at the controllers.

Realizing that this was his cue, Prompto got up and went over to Noct. “So uh, you wanna play some video games with me?”

“Yeah, can you make it work?”

“Sure thing, have a seat and I’ll get us up and running.” Prompto watched as Noct plunked down on the floor and watched eagerly as he selected a game.  It became readily apparent that Noct couldn’t actually play any of the games he owned. He was too young. After some initial confusion, and general huffing and puffing Prompto landed on a good compromise.

Noct was now settled on his lap holding the controller but not actually doing much. Though he thought he was. Prompto had his hands wrapped around Noct’s and was mashing the buttons that needed it. Wondering if Noct would actually consider this playing, Prompto was relieved when his friend quickly started shouting with delight anytime they won.

This version of gaming lasted for about an hour until Ignis came over to pause their efforts. They had another visitor arriving soon it seemed. When the king showed up five minutes later, Prompto nearly bolted. He’d met Noct’s father a few times but this felt different, more private in a way. Noct instantly abandoned the game and ran over to see his father when the king walked into the living room.

“Daddy, I’m winning you should see,” Noct enthused as he collided with the man and sent them backward slightly.

“I’m glad to see that son, what else have you been up to?”

Prompto was treated with quite a show after that. Noct went into every little detail of his day thus far complete with a pantomime performance. Getting to see this side of his friend was truly surreal. Noct was so laid back most of the time, the kid before him was animated and got excited by everything.  Though Prompto figured most kids his age probably were the same.

The king stayed for dinner and didn’t even make a fuss when the prince wouldn’t eat his vegetables.  It was almost as if Regis was caught in another time, one that was far less serious and threatening.   After dinner, they all attempted to keep Noct entertained.  Video games worked a little bit but were soon abandoned in search of another cookie. Ignis wouldn’t relent but the moment he turned towards his father, Prompto knew Noct had won that round. The king easily agreed and smiled as his son ran around on a mini sugar high.

However, they were all about to get a reprieve. Noct began yawning. A lot. It appeared his never-ending stream of energy had its limits after all. Not that Noct noticed, mind you.

“I think someone’s getting sleepy,” Ignis announced as Noct stumbled over the ottoman and tried to hide his yawn.

“M’not! I’m gonna stay up and play more.”

“I doubt that,” Ignis added with a smirk.

“Son, come on, you’re tired, lie down and rest,” Regis tried as he leaned forward and held open his arms for a hug.

Noct shook his head but went and got a hug anyway, though he did squirm to get away when it became clear Regis wasn’t letting go. Prompto would swear he saw tears in the man’s eyes.  He had to look away before he started crying too.

After a beat, Regis let go and Noct bounded off to pick on Gladio, he wanted another chase. The shield merely smiled and shook his head, citing his own tiredness as the reason. Scowling the youngster looked around the room.  One quirked eyebrow from Ignis sent Noct as far away as possible from the advisor.

Noct was now staring at him and pointing to the gaming console again. “I wanna play more games.”

Glancing up Prompto waited for the faintest nod from Ignis before he crawled on the floor and turned on the system. Noct flashed him a toothy grin and threw himself in Prompto’s lap. Grunting at the added weight and Noct’s boney limbs jabbing his legs, Prompto pulled up the last game and hit play.

Prompto could tell the exact moment the prince fell asleep, his little hands went slack and his head listed to the side. Smiling, Prompto slowly put down the controller and leaned back slightly. “He fell asleep,” he whispered.  

Gladio snickered and got up to see for himself, “Yep, out like a light.”

“What should I do?” Prompto asked not knowing if he should carry Noct to another room or simply sit there with his friend napping in his arms.

“You’re more than welcome to take him to his room Prompto. Though you may want to leave the door open in case he wakes up again,” suggested Ignis.

Nodding Prompto carefully got up and held Noct close. His friend looked so peaceful and happy.  Unable to stop himself Prompto leaned down and nuzzled the side of his head against Noct’s soft black hair.   That was when the little sleeping bundle in his arms suddenly became a lot heavier.

Where there had been a cute napping Noct, there was instead the grown version of Noct, still sleeping of course. Stumbling to the side due to the added weight Prompto cried out. He was about to fall over.  More shouting followed and then Gladio was by his side taking the extra weight.

“You okay? You didn’t hurt your back didja?” Gladio checked as he manhandled Noct into his own arms.

“I’m alright,” Prompto managed as calmed down.

“Come on, you can help me get his stinky shoes off so he can sleep.” Gladio laughed as he turned and carted Noct off to his bedroom.

Spinning around revealed Ignis and Regis both smiling at him. “I’m glad you were able to see Noct in a different light today,” said Regis as he stood up.

“Yes, of course, your majesty, I was worried about him, but I’m happy everything worked out in the end.”

“As am I, though I will say I may try and trick him into messing up his magic training in the future if this is the reward I get.”

Prompto didn’t know what to say, he wasn’t sure if the king was kidding or not.

The king must have sensed his confusion and grinned, “I’m only teasing Prompto, go help Gladio. He’ll be upset if you leave him to deal with Noct’s stinky shoes alone.”

“Yes sir,” Prompto laughed before running away down the hall.  He could hardly wait until Noct woke up so he could pick on his friend.   According to what he’d heard magic status effects were odd things. Sometimes you remembered what happened and other times you had no idea. Prompto was so going to tease Noct about his wild ways!