#lovingly nudging him forward with a small branch

[solacestea]

[cdragons]

"My Girl" - Robb Stark x Forest Fairy!Reader Drabble

A/N: This goes out to my girl, @dipperscavern! She needed a pick-me-up after the Tumblr app decided to be a bitch and delete her draft!!! But she still pressed on and wrote an incredible Robb Stark smut drabble! Pls go check it out!

"Please, Jon," Robb pleaded. "Just for today, and I'll make it up to you."

"Your mother will kill me if she finds out," Jon groaned. Normally, he'd be more than happy to cover for his brother, but what he was asking for was too much - even for him. "She hates me enough as it is."

"She doesn't hate you," Robb winced at the lie, but he was desperate. "Please, I have to see her."

"Why can't you see her tomorrow?" asked his half-brother. "The hunt is tomorrow anyway, you can just sneak away to see her then."

Robb shook his head. "You know how she feels about hunts. The moment the horn blows, she'll scatter far away, and I won't be able to see her for a week! A week - that's too long!"

Jon stared at his brother in complete disbelief at his dramatics. It was hard to believe that the first son of Ned Stark, Warden of the North, would be so far gone for a girl who lived so deep in the forest. A girl who lived a life completely shrouded herself in the mysterious beauty of the ancient woods.

A girl whose allure and grace were of a being so ethereal, she shouldn't exist.

Jon sighed. "Fine, I'll watch over Bran and Rickon by myself today - but if Father asks me, I'm telling him you skipped on your own!"

His brother whispered his shouts to avoid attracting attention from the rest of the keep, but Robb was already on his horse and raced out of the gates before he finished. He couldn't want to see you - his girl, his fairy, his mythic love.

Robb soon reached a part of the forest known to only very few in the North - his father included. The Starks were not only the Wardens of the North but the keeper of its ancient secrets.

Once he rode past the invisible barrier - accessible by those that carry the blood of House Stark - the wintery abode filled with white snow and blue ice melted away to a world of iridescent green trees and a kaleidoscope of colors eternally blooming. He finally saw the red leaves of the ancient weirwood tree whose twin linked your worlds together. Under the magnificent branches, he felt an explosion of love burst inside him at the sight of you.

You - his one and only love - sitting on the gnarled and overgrown roots of your tree. Your feet were bare as you only wore simple white linen dress that hugged your curves beautifully. He saw the flowers and small buds braided into your dark, wavy, umber-brown tresses.

"Fairy!"

Robb called out the nickname he had given you since he first met you in these woods as a child. He felt life flow inside him as he watched you turn around and saw the bright smile spread across your face. As soon as he was close enough, he slowed his steed to stop before jumping off and racing to the ancient tree where you and him would rendezvous in secret.

"Robb!" you called out. You waved in excitement before lightly jogging forward to meet him halfway.

Robb immediately took you in his arms and held you in a tight embrace. He pressed his nose into your locks and breathed in the lavender and wild grass notes. He felt time slow down until it seemed like the whole world stopped. Robb knew such a thing was impossible, but he thought many things were impossible before meeting you.

You slightly nudged him away until his face slightly hovered above yours. On your tiptoes, until they dug into the soft dirt beneath you, you firmly pressed your lips to his and wrapped your arms around his neck. Your mortal lover gladly reciprocated and tightened his arms around your waist until your chests were firmly pressed against each other.

When you finally parted for air, Robb lovingly stared at how beautifully flushed your cheeks became. He watched in a lust-ridden gaze at how your fingers swiftly undid the ties in front of your dress. He felt his breath stop as the garment pooled at your feet. Your body was completely bare and unclothed, and your skin was unmarred and looked silky-soft. You took his hand and held it at your breast - he could feel how fast and hard your heart was beating.

He wondered if you even knew how much of his breath you took away.

"I want to feel you, my love," you whispered. "Just us, under our tree, where only the witnesses of our love are our gods."

Robb choked back a groan. If he felt his cock growing hard at the sight of your skin, your words made his cock weep for your wet walls.

Gods, he loved you so much - how could he refuse?

Hurriedly, he took off his cloak and laid it down on the ground before removing his clothes with your help; Robb was just as bare and naked as you were. You gasped at the sight of him.

How could one man be so beautiful? How did such beauty become possible? How blessed were you to receive his love?

He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. His tongue swiped your bottom lip, and your lips parted to grant his access to fully devour you. When it felt like you would collapse from the lack of air, his lips trailed down your neck. You heard him murmur against your skin.

"I love you."

He repeated it over and over again, and your breathing became heavier as he continued to trail down. On the tops of your breasts, he deeply breathed the addictive perfume of your skin and began to lay kisses within the valley. His gentle hands roamed and caressed your skin with so much tenderness as his fingers reached that soaked spot between your plush thighs. He slowly slid his fingers inside you, and he growled at how much your slick arousal coated his calloused fingers.

You, on the other hand, felt completely lost in the sea of pleasure Robb was drowning you in. He was gentle. He always was with you, but today...it felt like he was the one who would completely fall apart without you.

Despite you were in full knowledge that it was truly the opposite.

Because for all of his Northern roughness, he was a man who loved with all his heart. He was utterly loyal to those he loved and cherished—a sentiment he shared especially with you, and you could not have been more grateful.

"I want to be here with you," he softly mumbled. "I could never want for anything else if I lived the rest of my life here, with you and our children. You, my pretty fairy, as the mother of my children, and me, your loyal wolf, forever protecting you."

He felt your core clench at his words as hot pleasure shot up your spine. It was a dream the two of you often shared - a life without obligations or duty, no fussy mothers or pushy fathers to stand in your way, and no empty and bleak futures looming over you. A life where it was just the two of you, riding through your forest with your horses, the woods filled with the laughter of your children. And when the day ended, the night would be filled with endless pleasure as your thoughts would only be full of him and his full of you.

You tenderly stroked the curls from his face as you felt the dam holding your pleasure slowly breaking.

Your chest was heaving. "It will, my sweet wolf," you promised. "Ours is a love no one can take away—the gods have shown it to me. After all, our gods are the ones who brought us together in the first place."

It was not long until you completely fell apart and gushed over his fingers. Your back arched as you coated your inner thighs and his fingers with your slick. Robb huskily chuckled as he pressed kisses down your stomach as you tried to catch your breath. Your fingers intertwine with his lovely, auburn curls in an attempt to anchor yourself to this material plane.

"Lie down," he softly ordered. "I won't take you against the harsh bark of a tree."

"Oh, but on your cloak in the dirt is an acceptable alternative?" you teased despite lowering against the soft, dark furs of your lover's fine cloak.

He smirks at your mirth as he crawls toward you. His perfect form hovering over you as if you were prey and he was about to devour you whole.

"Of course," he confirmed. "After all, I plan to take you on it until the only word you know how to say is my name, and the furs soak up all of your cum until it's all I can smell on it until the end of time."

Biting your bottom lip in anticipation, you could hardly wait for him to make good on his promise.

Robb aligns his cock at your entrance, its head red and its tip leaking with precum, as he slowly pushes inside you as wraps his hand in yours. He was only halfway inside you before he fully pushed himself in and completely bottomed out.

You cried as white, hot pleasure shot up your spine and flooded every nerve in your body. You felt so full and could hardly wrap your head around the fact that you and Robb's bodies were joined together as one.

"Fuckin'- fuck," he gasps out. "How is it you're so tight every time I take you?"

"Because I'm yours, Robb," you answered breathlessly. "My body was made for you as yours was made for me. Such pleasures could only exist between us - us and no one else."

Feeling the pool of pleasure in his stomach overflowing at your words, Robb begins to slowly thrust - in and out - until he reaches a steady rhythm that makes you senselessly babble as you feel your body becoming dull to everything but Robb. You felt every slow drag of his hips, every lingering trail of his touch, every hot breath on your skin, and you wondered how one man could make you feel so good.

He hits that spot inside you—the one that makes you see stars that only he could reach. Your eyes roll back, and you beg him to kiss you. A wish he complies without question—because what is his purpose if not to grant your every wish in his power?

It isn't long until he feels your walls clenching around his cock, and he can feel his control quickly slipping.

"Fairy, my fairy," he pleads against your lips. "'m close, 'm cumming."

"In-inside, my love," you beg. "I want you to spill your seed inside me. Let it take root in my womb, and our child grow."

Your grip on his hand tightens as your love's thrusts become quicker and sloppy, and he hits that spot inside you even more harshly and roughly. You scream as your walls clamp down on his member as your arousal spills out and coats his cock. He quickly follows after you, pushing himself as deep as he can to fill your womb with his seed as a groan resonates deep within his chest.

Despite the exhaustion flooding his muscles, Robb does not collapse atop you or pull out. Instead, he presses a soft kiss on your sweaty temple and lies by your side. He holds you close and breathily chuckles at how close to sleep you look in his arms. He places a small peck on your nose and smiles at how it scrunches so adorably.

"Rest now, my love. I'll be here when you wake."

You let out a loud yawn. "Good...believe it or not, this isn't what I had planned for us."

"Oh? And what were we supposed to do before you...distracted me?"

Robb raises his brow before smirking at the memory of how you initiated seducing him. You swatted his arm.

"My mare successfully gave birth to a foal. He's so beautiful - a red and white coat. I already love him."

"Have you named him?"

"Yes, Kodak."

Robb wanted to ask why you decided to name him that of all things, but you were burrowed in his chest - already in a deep sleep. With a content smile, he followed suit and met you in a dream. A beautiful dream where it was just you, him, your children, and 'Kodak.' All of you laughing and smiling in your beloved woods.

Underneath the weirwood tree, you and he met all those years ago - when you were still a sprite, and he was still a boy. Underneath the weirwood where Robb saw you for the first time, and he swore to the Old Gods and New that he would love only you for the rest of his life.

A promise he swore then, a promise he still keeps, and a promise that remains true until his last breath.

@dipperscavern, if you've died from an overload of fluff and love delulu fantasies...then I've done my job

[moonspirit]

Aruani au where the time frame of 13 years is still in place even if they don’t have the power of the Titan.

Reiner Pieck and Annie slowly start to deteriorate, Armin having to watch.

Armin and Annie. They may have gotten together, gotten eloped or married.

Or maybe they lived in fear over their crush on eachother. Not wanting to get together just for Armin watch Annie die.

They won’t want kids. It will be selfish of them as both parents are destined to die before they will reach the age of 8 or possibly younger.

Armin then will adventualy be left alone, to go through the same health deterioration, with no one by him side to hold his hand lovingly, no one to kiss and hold him when it hurts. Alone.

Omg anon T^T You woke up on the day you sent in this ask and decided "I choose pain!"

TW: Tragedy.

This is deep, deep angst tho T^T Tragedy, more like! Honestly, the psychological impact of watching your loved ones go, both in physical and mental health, is terrifying to think about.

Of course, you can still choose to be happy while facing inevitable death. You can know how many days you have left and still decide to spend some time laughing like life is forever.

But what if you're not allowed to do even that because your mortal body is falling apart? What if Pieck wants to try braiding Annie's hair with flowers one last time before she goes, but her fingers are too weak to even touch golden strands?

Reiner finds his skin bruising a dark purple at the places which were once protected by titan armour. The slightest nudge or brush and he bleeds. It makes doing anything so very painful.

Annie never did allow herself to accept that hug from Armin. He invited her once, twice, several times, to live out the remaining of her life with him, but she turned away. 'No' was too painful to say, but 'Yes' was even worse to consider. He lives somewhere else now, far away from her. Still, Annie wonders how he is. If he thinks of her. If he misses her. If he'll take her still, if she were to knock on his door. But she can't walk, her legs are like columns of water - too weak.

If only she could walk, she'd walk even in the pouring rain.

For Armin, there's little left to look forward to. He drove Eren into madness, Mikasa into loneliness, and the world to the brink of death. Annie didn't want anything to do with him, even if she did cast him one longing look before she disappeared. His life is now this quiet cottage by the ocean where tides never stop crashing against the jagged rocks below the cliff. Sometimes, he thinks of just jumping toward them and letting those sharp black teeth end his pain.

Because, you see, he can't see very well anymore.

His eyesight is deteriorating. There's a book in his hands, beautiful and thick, and it has glossy pictures of faraway lands and people he wishes he could see. But it's blurry. Sometimes it's dull. Sometimes it's dim and vague, shapes shifting like cold, lonely specters in his imagination.

He thinks of Annie every day. Every second. He wishes she'd said 'yes' and come to sleep in his bed and share his last few cups of coffee. He wishes she'd taken his hand so he wouldn't feel so scared and alone.

He wishes she'd at least looked at him a bit longer before she went.

Now, as he lays in his bed, unable to get up and breathing his last, he thinks of her again. Of her eyes, of her voice, of her small, frightened hands. He thinks of her, both frozen and thawed, of her beauty that remained unchanged till the last he saw of her.

He thinks of her, and hopes one final time, that the branch knocking at his door is not from a tree, but Annie instead.

Only, he's blind - he can't even see her face anymore.

[germvity]

RISES THE MOON

leon s kennedy x reader // 9 // firefly season

the three of you cheer as danny storms off, angry at his loss. "take that you tosser!" you yell through the thorns as leon pulls you into him for a kiss. "gross..!" nea fake gags, and you roll your eyes. "hey, before we split... are we good?" you ask, and nea nods. "as long as we can kick ass in trials, we're good." she smiles, hugging you once more before waving and heading off to the survivor camp. leon seems confused, going to ask you what was going on but you cut him off. "come on, let's go relax before any more trials." you smile, pulling him along to your shack.

tags: fluff <3, relationship development!, confessions, cuddles, happy crying, a lot of scenery, mild jealousy, two paragraphs of jake bc i love him 😭

tag list: @hex-touchstarved , @trinswhimsys

<3

flopping down, you lay on the bed- limbs sprawled. leon sits next to you, brushing his fingers across your cheek lovingly. "feeling better?" you ask, grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers with his. "a bit. throat still hurts." leon shrugs, squeezing your hand softly.

"are... are you ready? to move forward?" he asks shyly, looking away as his pale cheeks tint pink. "i'm not sure yet..." you mumble, observing his face. "oh- that's okay..! i wasn't trying to rush you or anything-!" your giggle, cutting leon off. "you're too cute." you smile up at him. leon's blush darkens as he looks away from you.

"what were you and nea talking about at the end of the trial?" he asks after regaining composure. "it's nothing. i promise." you sigh, eyes moving away- flicking back to his when he looks at you. "you asked if the two of you are 'good'? did something happen? did you two fight?" he pries, and you look away with a sharp inhale. "we were close... at the beginning before all this. we were so close... she confessed that she had a crush on me in the trial, and she missed me. she seemed to be jealous that i was seeing you." you explain, looking back at him.

leon nods slowly, taking in the information. "she's not going to-?" "no, she wouldn't. she's a kind, sensitive soul behind that tough girl persona." you shut down his question immediately. "sorry..." he mumbles, assuming you're mad at him. "don't be... it's okay." you sit up- pulling him close. "i just don't want anything happening to you." leon sighs, tightening his arms around you. "i know... i can manage- i mean, i have so far." you comfort him, cupping his face and pressing your forehead against his.

"i know but... it's different now. i want to help you- want to protect you." leon sighs, pulling you onto his lap fully. "i know, bubs. i know. we'll be fine." you smile, giving him a soft kiss. leon smiles back, rubbing his cheek against yours affectionately. "i love you..." he mumbles, and you smile, kissing his cheek gently. "i could stay like this forever." leon laughs, his arms squishing your body against his chest. "me too.. you're comfy." you laugh, kissing his jaw.

"thanks." leon grins, giving your neck loving kisses. your fingers slip into his hair, stroking his scalp as he melts under your touch with a moan. "that feel good?" you giggle, massaging your fingers in soothing circles. leon hums out a yes, his weight sagging onto you. "mmh... you're good at this." leon moans out, his body weight forcing you to lie down. you laugh, practically petting him as he lays on you- weight almost crushing you.

you push him gently, rolling the two of you to the side so you could cuddle him properly. leon sighs slightly, a small smile on his face as he snuggles you closer. "i wish we met in different circumstances." you smile sadly as leon falls into a daydream, probably of the two of you being together in the real world. "what's done is done, leon." you shrug. "but if it makes you feel better, i'm so happy you're here." your words make him smile genuinely and he gives your nose a soft kiss. "i'm happy to be here too. when we get out, because we will, you can stay with me if you have nowhere to go. if you have a destination in mind, i'll stay by your side."

you smile at leon's comforting words, sweetly kissing him. "thank you, leon. that's so sweet of you." you reply, letting him nuzzle his nose against yours affectionately. the moon glistens through the hole in the top of the shack, tree branches splitting the light and gently swaying the patterns left and right. it was soothing, you wanted to stay like this forever. "hey, i have an idea." leon sits up, grabbing your hand to pull you with him.

you follow him outside, holding his hand tightly as he walks. "i saw these when i followed you, i think you'll like them." leon nods, guiding you through the trees. you stop in a small opening in the forest, a few rocks and a small pond that had a stream trickling from it and travelling through a crevice in the ground. the stream you knew lead to the lake, where survivors washed their clothes and got fresh drinking water. you had never followed the stream so far, jerking back slightly, you tug leon with you by accident. the blonde freezes, turning and cupping your face gently. "hey, it's okay. no one's here. we're safe." he coos, soothing your worries slowly with a few kisses.

leon slowly continues with you, sitting down on a rock. you sit with him, staying pressed against him to soothe your anxieties. "look." he points towards the tree line, and you follow his finger to see a bundle of fireflies fluttering around happily. you smile, worries melting away completely at the sight. "they're so pretty." you gush, letting leon grab your hand. "there's fish too." he nods to the stream, and you look down to see small, fat fish swimming along. it was so serene in a world of chaos, actual living animals other than crows surrounded you. it was rather overwhelming as a few stray tears drip down your face. leon catches them immediately, drying your cheeks with his fingers. "i hope these are happy tears." he half-jokes, and you giggle, wiping your wet lashes. "they are, don't worry." you sniffle, a bright smile on your face.

slowly, you reach down into the pond, letting one of the fish gently nudge your fingers with it's snout. as soon as it touched you, the fish flicked away, swimming off. "this is amazing..." you whisper, watching the fish go. "i had a feeling you would like it." leon boasts, giving your hand a kiss. "i wish we could catch some fireflies but i don't have a jar..." you pout and leon nods, noting the wish mentally to ask of the entity later.

"thank you for bringing me here." you turn to leon and he looks at you with a fond look in his eyes. "no problem. i'm happy you love it." he smiles, giving you a sweet kiss. "i... i've done some thinking recently..." you say, trying to grasp the right words. "oh? about what?" leon asks, looking at you expectingly. "i.. uh... we-" you stumble, the words you were searching for escaping you as he smiles at you.

"could we... i don't know- be, y'know... official?" you ask, looking at him anxiously in case he said no. "like... dating?" leon tilts his head slightly, and you nod; cheeks heating up. "of course! i'd be happy to have you as my partner." leon beams, kissing you excitedly as his hand cups your jaw. you giggle into his lips, kissing him back. you felt safe with him, safe in this moment when a twig snapping catches your attention.

the two of you break apart, leon stands at the ready to protect you until jake emerges from the brush- hands raised in fake defence. "relax, officer. just came here to fill up my canister." he moves past the two of you, dipping his flask in the water to collect water. "but the fish!" you protest, and jake laughs slightly. "they have plenty that comes and goes from the lake. they'll be fine." the saboteur smiles at you, and you shy away with embarrassment as you remember how the water flows. leon gently pats your head, smiling down at you.

"didn't mean to interrupt your little session." the woodsman shrugs, and the two of you fluster. "don't tell anyone." leon retorts, too embarrassed to sound demanding. "don't worry, i won't. too tired for drama. can't be bothered with it. it's all pointless if you ask me." jake shrugs, getting up to leave. "thank you..." you mumble and jake smiles. "no problem. take care of yourself." jake nods at you, leaving the way he came.

leon feels a small wave of jealousy- which dissipates as soon as it swells as you yawn, stretching. "come on, let's go get ready for our next trial." he smiles, helping you stand. you nod in agreement, waving goodbye to the fireflies and fish as the two of you leave.

[stardustacefics]

It Has Always Been Wei Ying

Pairing: Wei WuXian x Lan WangJi

Summary: Lan WangJi is an apprehensive demiromantic demisexual. Okay, basically he’s Wei Ying-sexual.

W/c: 2k

lmao how many times have I used this gif? It is just so sweet 😅🥰

After a long day, Lan WangJi and Wei WuXian decided to stop at the Yiling Tea House for a drink. As they had been here many times before, the workers now recognized them and knew their orders by heart. There was also a table tucked away in one of the corners where they could have some privacy, and they always sat in this spot as well. Once they had sat down, a server immediately brought over a jar of liquor and a pot of tea. Bowing to them, the server left them to enjoy their drinks.

Lan WangJi reached over and delicately poured Wei WuXian some liquor. Once he gently pushed the cup across the table, Wei WuXian gulped it down eagerly, the corners of his lips upturned and his eyes shining.

“Hey, Lan Zhan!” he suddenly said.

“Mn,” he replied as he was scooping a few tea leaves into his cup.

“Who was your first crush?”

“You,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Me?” he asked surprisedly as he set down his cup. “Wait, really?!”

“Mn,” Lan WangJi said, nodding once.

“Woah, no way! I had no idea! Okay, how about your first girl crush?”

Lan WangJi shook his head.

“Ahhhh,” he said, pointing a finger at Lan WangJi. “So you’ve only ever liked boys?”

Lan WangJi nodded again. “Mn.”

“Then, who are some other boys that you have liked?” he asked with wide eyes.

Lan WangJi shook his head.

“Lan Zhaaaan come on! I’ve told you all of mine!” He nudged Lan WangJi on the shoulder. “I’m not going to be upset or jealous or anything. I’m honestly just curious.”

“There has not been another,” Lan WangJi said plainly.

Wei WuXian tilted his head to the side, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I have only ever been interested in you.”

Wei WuXian gave him a look of disbelief. “Lan Zhan, I already told you. You don’t have anything to be worried about. I really am just-”

“Wei Ying,” Lan WangJi said intently. As he gazed earnestly into Wei WuXian’s eyes, he seemed to begin to understand.

“Wait, you’re being serious,” he said, recognition dawning on his face.

Lan WangJi nodded once. “It has always been you.”

Wei WuXian bit his lip in an attempt to hide his smile, but he failed to conceal his delight. “That… might be the most romantic thing that I have ever heard. You have to warn me before you say stuff like that.”

Lan WangJi awkwardly took a sip of his tea.

“Heeeey, I know that move,” Wei WuXian commented slyly. “You’re trying to avoid the topic. Well, good luck with that, seeing as I can read you like a book!”

Placing his cup back on the table, Lan WangJi looked over at him with a blank expression on his face. Wei WuXian stared at him for some time, squinting his eyes in concentration. “You are… you’re embarrassed. Why?”

After a pause, Lan WangJi admitted, “… Before I met you, everybody my age would talk about the people that they had feelings for. I could never do that.” A barely noticeable shade of pink flushed Lan WangJi’s cheeks. “It is not normal.”

“Normal? Normal is overrated.” Wei WuXian said, still confused. “That is all in the past though. Why does it still bother you?”

Lan WangJi parted his lips slightly, turning to look to the side. “I cannot lose you,” he uttered quietly.

In that moment, something clicked in Wei WuXian’s mind. It wasn’t that Lan WangJi was bothered by all of those people from his past, but rather that Lan WangJi was worried about how he thought of him. His heart melted at the realization.

“Why me?” Wei WuXian asked, suddenly feeling intrigued about the subject. “What made you have those feelings for me?”

“… I think that it is because of our bond.”

“Our bond?”

“I have felt deeply about you for years, and we have always had a connection. While it was not initially romantic, it seems that the connection led me to fall in love with you.”

A soft smile grew on Wei WuXian’s face and his gaze melted. “That is really beautiful, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Zhan’s eyes lit up as he looked back at him. “Really?” he asked quietly.

Letting out a small giggle, Wei WuXian said, “Really.”

A small exhale escaped from Lan WangJi’s lips and his gaze softened.

Wei WuXian smiled back at him. “Were you… were you worried to tell me?”

Lan WangJi nodded once, looking down at his tea.

“Why?” he inquired.

“I did not want you to think less of me,” he uttered sheepishly.

Wei WuXian immediately stood up and walked over to the other side of the table. He sat down next to Lan WangJi and pulled him into a tight hug. “Lan Zhan,” he sighed into the embrace. “You have no idea how much you mean to me. What you said… it truly is a beautiful sentiment.”

“You mean the world to me,” Lan WangJi said, his hands slowly drifting up to Wei WuXian’s hair. As he carded through it slowly, he tucked his nose into the crook of Wei WuXian’s neck and closed his eyes.

“Lan Zhan, listen to me,” he said, leaning back to look Lan WangJi in the eyes. “I do not think of you any differently, and I certainly do not think any less of you. You will always be the same Lan Zhan to me,” Slowly, he planted a soft kiss on Lan WangJi’s lips, smiling against him. When they parted, Wei WuXian whispered, “Please. Tell me that you understand.”

Within seconds, Lan WangJi tenderly placed his hand on the back of Wei WuXian’s neck and captured his lips in another kiss, silently confirming his request. Lan WangJi closed his eyes once again and sighed softly, leaning into his touch.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Wei WuXian whispered, making Lan WangJi’s heart flutter.

The sun was beginning to set, and bright beams of pink and orange were shining through the window. They leaned against each other’s shoulders as they finished their drinks, completely unhurried.

After some time, Wei WuXian said, “Lan Zhan. You want to get out of here?

With a soft smile, Lan WangJi nodded and placed their payment on the table. The two stood up and walked out onto the bustling street, hand-in-hand. Once they had left the market, they found themselves walking on a deserted path in the woods, sunlight peeking through the branches.

“Hey,” Wei WuXian said suddenly. “Come here.” He gently pulled at Lan WangJi’s sleeve.

Lan WangJi followed him off of the path, the two of them weaving through an endless number of trees until they arrived at a clearing. Squinting into the sunset, Lan WangJi found himself standing atop the heights of the forest with the wide-open horizon presented before him. He couldn’t help but let his mouth fall open slightly. The sky was magnificent, as if paint had been streaked across the view.

“Isn’t it incredible?” Wei WuXian breathed. “I used to come here when I was living at the Burial Mound, just to watch the sunset.” He smiled softly. “It always helped me to feel more at peace.”

“Mn,” Lan WangJi hummed, agreeing with him. His eyes were twinkling as he looked over at Wei WuXian. “Beautiful.”

“I thought about you a lot while I was here,” Wei WuXian admitted quietly. “Conversations that we’d had, things that I wanted to say to you… This was the only place where I had the space to think about those kinds of things.”

Lan WangJi nodded in understanding. “What in particular did you think about?”

“I was often worried that you were disappointed with me,” he said with a shy laugh. “I didn’t understand how I felt about you at the time… but I knew that you meant something to me, even if I didn’t quite know why.”

Wei WuXian sat down in the grass and leaned with his back against one of the trees. Lan WangJi sat down beside him, placing Bichen off to the side.

“I thought about you often as well,” Lan WangJi whispered.

“Did it worry you too?”

After a pause, Lan WangJi nodded once. “…I was not used to feeling strongly for other people. It was something that I had never experienced before. The things that I wanted…” He stopped, going a bit red in the cheeks.

With a timid smile, Wei WuXian asked, “Did you get the things that you wished for?”

Lan WangJi glanced over at him, eyes sparkling. “More than I ever could have imagined.”

Wei WuXian’s hands found their way up to Lan WangJi’s face, gazing into his eyes lovingly as his slowly caressed his cheeks. He leaned in and captured Lan WangJi’s lips in a tender kiss, and Lan WangJi sighed contently against him. When they parted, he rested his forehead against Wei WuXian’s and nosed him gently. This had become a new habit of his, as Wei WuXian absolutely adored it. They remained like this for some time, their eyes closed, soaking each other in. They gently brushed their noses together and let their eyelashes flutter against each other’s cheeks. Neither of them said a word. They didn’t need to.

After a few more moments, Wei WuXian delicately took Lan WangJi’s hands into his own and pressed light kisses to them. A small tear cascaded down Lan WangJi’s cheek, and Wei WuXian kissed it away. Lan WangJi pressed their foreheads together and nosed him again. He wanted to be closer. So much closer. He slowly leaned forward, pushing Wei WuXian’s body completely against the tree, as he climbed into his lap. He pressed his lips to Wei WuXian’s, breathing him in with everything that he had. He moved to pepper small, light kisses down the side of Wei WuXian’s neck until he reached his ear, giving it a small lick. Wei WuXian exhaled softly, wordlessly telling him to keep going. Lan WangJi sucked on his ear and neck softly, yet just enough to leave a mark. “Oh,” Wei WuXian breathed blissfully, head falling back against the tree. Lan WangJi’s tongue met his skin again. “Oh… wow,” he breathed again, eyes fluttering closed. He reached his hand up and threaded his fingers through Lan WangJi’s hair, gently pushing him closer.

“Lan Zhan,” he purred. “I can’t believe… that I’m the only person… that you’ve wanted to do this with.”

Lan WangJi moved back to press a kiss to Wei WuXian’s lips. “It has always been you.” He kissed him again. “I cannot imagine being with anyone else.” Another kiss. “You are everything to me.”

Just before Lan WangJi was going to kiss him again, Wei WuXian leaned in and kissed him first, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him even closer.

“Wei Ying,” Lan WangJi said, pressing their foreheads together. “I never thought that… that I would want this… or enjoy this.”

“Do you?” Wei WuXian whispered. “Do you enjoy this?”

Earnestly staring into his eyes, Lan WangJi said, “I have never felt so… so…” He was at a loss for words, which rarely happened to him. He felt as if he couldn’t think clearly. The only thing that was in his mind was Wei WuXian. The taste of his lips. The smell of his hair. The feeling of his skin against his.

Wei Ying. Wei Ying. Wei Ying.

“You are breathtaking,” Lan WangJi purred, nosing him gently.

Wei WuXian nosed him in return, smiling softly. “Back at the Tea House… what you said… I’m glad you told me.”

Lan WangJi nosed him gently on the cheek, silently thanking him. Silently telling him that he loved him.

The last of the sunset disappeared and the moonlight began to illuminate the forest. They held each other tightly, cherishing every second of the other’s presence.

“Lan Zhan?” Wei WuXian asked. He was seated between Lan WangJi’s legs, leaning against his chest and rubbing his hands softly.

“Mn?”

“Can we stay like this for a little while longer?” Wei WuXian asked.

With a smile, Lan WangJi pressed a light kiss to the top of Wei WuXian’s head. “We can stay like this for eternity.”

[akp-1327]

the parallel

Pairing: Beckett Harrington x f!MC (Meghan Scott)

Word Count: 2.6k (it’s a longer fic but definitely worth the read :)

Synopsis: The Pend Pals have just finished their exhausting sophomore year at Penderghast and are in desperate need of a break.

Enjoy! :) <3

Meghan placed her hands on her hips and let out a sigh of relief. It was the chaotic night before the last day of school and she’d been packing her belongings all day, preparing to go off on the internship adventure with Professor Harrington, AKA Katrina, as she insisted on being called. Beckett begged her to let him come along with her, though Katrina said no; she wanted some one-on-one time with Meghan to get to know her as more than a student and more of a friend. Exasperation wasn’t even a strong enough word at Beckett’s reaction. Regardless of whether her boyfriend was going or not, Meghan was ecstatic to get off campus and explore the wide and unknown magickal world with her powers; her magick was practically bursting from her fingertips at the thought of exploration.

Meghan’s crystal blue eyes wandered around her lifeless room, once decked out with books, movie posters, and various knick-knacks that were now boxed and ready for the quick trip back home in the morning. It was just a mattress and a sad afghan blanket that she was borrowing from Aster. Sophomore year, as amazing and eventful as it may have been, was definitely allowed to end in Meghan’s opinion. It was enough of an adrenaline rush as it was a headache. With Kane, Alma, Gemma, her mom, her strengthening powers, Beckett...it was all just a lot. She was in desperate need of a proper break.

She was about to turn in for the night and change into her pajamas before she heard a loud knock at her door. The sound sent Ivy, her arylu, on a wild goose chase around the room to find its source. Meghan giggled before she walked over to the door (trying to tame her messy blonde waves first, of course) and cracked it open, seeing the Pend Pals on the other side.

“Hey, Megs? You need to get out of this tiny space. You’ve been cooped up in here all day.” Shreya commanded, though there was no form of malice in her tone. Meghan smiled and looked back at her room, opening the door wider so everyone could see the bare walls and the boxes piled up everywhere.

“Sorry. Cleaning tape off the wall and packing a million things isn’t exactly a quick job, especially when you do it all alone.” Meghan sighed, glaring at her twin. Atlas only smirked. “What’re you all up to?” Everyone glanced at each other, then back at Meghan.

“It’s a--” Zeph started, though Meghan interrupted him with a groan. She already knew what word, what god awful word he was about to utter.

“Surprise,” Meghan said, leaning against the door frame and crossing her arms, “why can’t you guys just tell me? I’m always the victim to these kinds of things and I don’t appreciate it as much as you think I do.” Griffin let out a loud laugh and Beckett’s face was dusted in a rose tint.

“It was Beckett’s idea, actually!” Aster cheered, her leaves rustling with happiness, “He was the one who wanted to surprise us! No one else actually knows what’s happening.”

Meghan’s eyes flitted over to her boyfriend who was now fidgeting under her gaze. “Oh, is that so?” 

Beckett instantly stammered and bashfully smiled. “I thought we deserved something after this year, and so it’s more of a surprise for everyone,” Beckett explained, collecting himself a bit, “so I planned everything myself in hopes of relaxing for a little while before we all go our separate ways for the summer.” Shreya hummed and looked back at Beckett.

“You know, Beckett, I have a suspicion that this little extravaganza is being held at the library for some reason. Please tell me this isn’t just my intuition speaking.” Shreya teased, arching her eyebrow. Beckett scoffed.

“As if I’d spoil my plans after keeping them a secret for so long,” Beckett said, looking back at Meghan halfway through his response, “are you going to stand there all night or are you coming with?”

Meghan lovingly rolled her eyes at him. “Let me get my sandals.”

**

The evening air was warm as the Pend Pals followed Beckett through campus. They passed the library and dorm buildings as the sun sank further beneath the horizon. Meghan fell back into step with her sister who trailed behind everyone; Atlas wore a small frown and had her arms tightly wrapped around her chest, seemingly trying to protect herself.

“What’s up, sis?” Meghan asked, giving her a small nudge with her shoulder. Atlas sighed and gave her sister a half-hearted shrug.

“I hate surprises,” Atlas said, “we’ve had too many bad ones this year. Too many for a lifetime.” She looked down at her scuffed boots and started to kick a pebble along with her as she walked.

“You do know that Beckett would never put us in danger, right?” Meghan asked, looking back at Atlas. Her platinum white hair had been tied up in a ponytail, making it easier to spot the tension fade from her features.

“It’s a habit of mine to think the worst of surprises, Megs. You know that.” Atlas said, unfurling her arms from around her chest. “And you can’t say that. Remember last year when he almost killed the entire school with the ward incident?”

Meghan was the one to shrug. “He’s changed a lot, Atlas. Besides, Raife and Kane are long gone. We’re alright and in no sort of danger.”

Atlas nodded with a small relieved smile, bumping Meghan’s side with her elbow. “Old habits die hard.”

“And new ones create happy memories! Now, loosen up and enjoy tonight for me. Can you do that?”

Atlas rolled her eyes. “Ugh, fine. But I won’t do it for your pleasure.” 

Meghan laughed, watching everyone ahead of them slow down and eventually stop next to an empty field.

“Uh, Beckett, sorry to burst your bubble,” Griffin started, gesturing to the openness around them, “but there’s nothing here.” 

Zeph and Shreya laughed.

“Maybe it was at the library after all!” Zeph joked. Beckett smirked, crossing his arms.

“No, no. We still have a bit to go,” Beckett started, looking at Meghan, “but I was hoping a certain Sun-Att would care to help me?” Meghan smiled warmly and walked over to him. He gently grasped her hands and threaded their fingers together.

“You two are adorable and I love you both, but I’m on the edge of my seat over here. Save the cutesy stuff for when we get there, please!” Shreya laughed. Everyone nodded in agreement as Beckett sighed, shaking his head with a smile. He gazed into Meghan’s eyes with pure adoration and love that Meghan had started to lose herself in the moment, only before he blinked and snapped her out of her reverie.

“I need you to light the way for me, okay?” Beckett said, squeezing Meghan’s hands. She nodded and, a moment later, was emitting a soft and golden glow that lit up the area around them. “That’s perfect. Now, stay close to me.”

Meghan tightened her hold on one of his hands and let the other one go, now standing at his side. “How about I hold your hand?” Beckett beamed and hummed, pulling her close before he started to walk again. The path ahead was a little more narrow and wooded. Aster giggled as she looked around.

“These woods were the ones I used to play in when I was growing up,” Aster said, brushing her hand along the dark brush, “I’d love to branch here. There’s so much character and uniqueness about the area, so much to learn about.” Everyone continued to walk in the soft light, trying not to trip or get whacked in the head by branches.

“Big B, was this treacherous path really, ow, necessary?” Zeph complained, a branch hitting his forehead. Atlas, Shreya, and Griffin laughed quietly to themselves. 

Beckett was about to respond before strikingly bright blue sparks burst on the ground in front of them, slowly forming into a circle. Instead of dirt, the inside had been a blur of purples, pinks, yellows, and greens. Beckett laughed and turned back to his friends.

“To answer your question, Zephyr, this path was the only one that we could take to find this magnificent portal.” Beckett said wondrously, pointing at the portal on the ground behind him. “Because of the rock formations beneath--”

“Oh, shut up already!” Zeph rushed forward and cannon balled into the portal. “Waahoo!”

Griffin and Shreya laughed, running in after him.

“Incoming!” Griffin exclaimed.

“Aaah!” Shreya howled.

Aster and Atlas looked at each other for a second before they jumped in as well, a bit more hesitant. 

In mere seconds, it had only been Beckett and Meghan, their hands tightly intertwined as she continued to glow.

“This is what we were looking for? Coooool!” Meghan laughed teasingly, moving closer to see his face of shock. “Beck?” He blinked rapidly.

“What...did...did that just happen?” Beckett asked, a smile starting to encase his features. Meghan giggled and kissed his cheek.

“It did,” Meghan said, wrapping him in a hug, “and I think we should join them!” She pushed off the ground and made them both stagger on their feet. Before he could react, Beckett was tumbling into the portal and free falling into the depths of it, Meghan wearing an expression of amazement in his arms.

“Whoa!” Meghan shouted, clinging to Beckett as wind whipped through her hair. Beckett’s body started to relax from the shock, now starting to laugh and holding Meghan closer.

“Wooo!” Beckett shouted. The colors whizzed together and created a mural of bold and interesting patterns around them. It was as if they were inside an abstract painting! Though, before they could comprehend the moment once more, their descent slowed and they landed on their feet in a world parallel to theirs. Everything seemed the same, everyone looked the exact same as they did before, but the colors of the terrain...the colors…

The land, the trees, the leaves, the bushes, the ground...it was all glowing!

The world of bright light came to life around them. The rest of the Pend Pals eagerly crowded around Beckett and Meghan, still catching their breaths.

“Where are we?” Shreya huffed, putting her hands on her knees. Beckett looked around, gaping.

“This is the Parallel. It’s the universe that’s ours, but,” Beckett started, gesturing to the area around them slowly, “the colors are all fluorescent and the Earth’s gravitational pull is less strong.”

Griffin gasped. “I didn't think the Parallel actually existed!”

Beckett shook his head, still looking around with bewildered eyes. “Neither did I.”

“Wait, so if the gravitational pull is less strong…” Meghan pulled away from Beckett and jumped, her body starting to float before slowly coming back down. “No way! This is amazing!” She jumped with more vigor this time, launching herself higher into the air. The laughs of her friends rang out behind her as they experimented with their weightlessness as well. Zeph and Shreya did flips, Atlas and Griffin did corkscrews, and Aster spun. Beckett, still quite uneasy, tried to do a somersault but to no avail. Meghan laughed and made her way over to him.

“Hey, need some help?” Meghan giggled, taking one of Beckett’s hands. He gingerly smiled before she launched them both high into the air, their bodies spinning through the vivid world around them.

“Jeez, a little warning would be nice!” Beckett exclaimed, though his tone lacked any sort of malice. He had an excited smile on his face as Meghan led him through a flip, then another, and then another. They laughed as they landed, the ground finally halting them of their seemingly endless cycle of flips.

“That looked like so much fun!” Aster cheered, launching herself to do the same exact thing. Eventually everyone had been laughing and tumbling through the air.

“Griffin! I bet I can jump higher than you!” Atlas challenged. Griffin narrowed his eyes and the two were high in the air, flipping and laughing, pushing each other away when they came close.

“Shreya--” Zeph warned, though Shreya still crept up on him until she grabbed his hand and threw him across the forest in slow motion, sending him sprawling. “Aaaaah! Meghan, get revenge!”

Meghan narrowed her eyes towards Shreya and then looked to Aster and Beckett for reinforcements. With a huge grin, they all leapt at Shreya and sent her the other way, also tumbling through the neon landscape. “No!”

“Yes! Justice for Zeph!” Meghan giggled, doing a victorious flip and high fiving Beckett and Aster. 

**

Everyone continued to play around before they started to wind down and tucker themselves out. They were now laying on the ground and looking up at the starless sky. 

Beckett swiped Meghan’s hand into his and placed a kiss on the back, inviting her into his arms.

“Did you have fun?” Beckett whispered into her ear. She sighed and cuddled into his embrace, her gaze wandering to her friends pointing up at the sky a little ways away from them. She smiled and leaned up to look at Beckett.

“I had an amazing time, Beckett,” Meghan started, leaning closer to him, “but something’s missing.”

Beckett arched an eyebrow. “What is it?”

Meghan leaned even further, her lips now hovering over his. “I’m missing a kiss, silly!”

Beckett grinned and brought his hand up to cup her cheek, “Say no more, then,” and pressed his lips to hers in a tender kiss. Meghan closed her eyes and smiled against his lips as they kissed, pulling away breathlessly only a moment later to rest her forehead against his.

“Now everything’s beyond perfect,” Meghan whispered, though even more quietly added, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Sweetums.” Beckett responded, pressing a kiss to her nose. Someone’s cough, presumably Atlas’s, scared the two apart.

“A-hem. Lovebirds.” Atlas teased, causing both Beckett and Meghan to roll their eyes. “It’s almost one in the morning.” 

The group synchronized a yawn, Meghan’s head resting on Beckett’s chest once more as she settled back down next to him. Despite the implication of needing to leave, no one moved nor spoke. They all just basked in the peace and quiet of the different world for a few minutes, everyone’s breathing slow and calm. Suddenly, Meghan took a deep breath and let it out slowly, sitting up.

“Atlas and I have to leave in a few hours,” Meghan said sadly, “we should probably get our butts back to campus. Beckett, how do we get out of here?”

Beckett sighed and stood. “Back the way we came. Follow me.”

**

The Pend Pals trudged exhaustively back through the woods and towards campus on the long path. Everyone was leaning on each other for support, everyone’s eyes drooping, and everyone’s smiles never fading. Once they were standing in the middle of campus, they all gave each other hugs and goodbyes.

“We need to go back there next year.” Griffin said, running his hands down his face. Atlas pushed his arm teasingly.

“You just want a rematch at that race. What a sore loser you are, Langley.” Atlas said. Everyone laughed as a comfortable silence fell over the group. Meghan giggled and spoke up.

“Well, I’m going to bed. See you all at breakfast tomorrow?” Meghan asked, looking around at everyone’s nods and attempts to hold back yawns.

“Good night, everyone!” Aster said, walking away. Griffin waved with a warm smile and Zeph saluted. Shreya gave them a dazzling grin and walked off towards her dorm. Beckett took Meghan’s hands in his, staring into her eyes.

“See you in the morning,” Beckett said, pressing a kiss to Meghan’s forehead, “sleep well.” Before she could respond, Meghan watched Beckett walk away towards his dorm. Atlas sidled up next to her and wrapped her arm around Meghan’s shoulders.

“C’mon, Megs. We need get some sleep before we work our butts off tomorrow.” Atlas said, leading her towards their dorm. Meghan wrapped her arm around Atlas in return.

“Happily, sis.” Was all Meghan could say before they returned to the bare room and turned in for the night.

[argylemikewheeler]

102 Peach Street

|| started by this ask. will and mike are married and very happy ||

On Sunday mornings, Mike always liked to spend the early sunlight hours pulling weeds out of the garden. He’d stand in the warm sunshine, feeling the morning breeze on his arms and through his hair– he refused to cut it above his shoulders in the early nineties. Will would often stand at the kitchen window, washing the dishes, and smile down at him and their full green country yard.

It was part of Will’s therapy to tend to something that would grow and thrive if loved and taken care of– just like he would. The summer they moved out of Hawkins and into a place of their own, Mike helped Will plant greenery all along the front of the house and by the porch steps. Will watered and fixed the soil frequently, but Mike always offered to do the weeding; Will’s knees had gotten bad in his early college years from a childhood of incorrectly running (for his life) and couldn’t spend the hours hunched over like he used to.

Of course, though, Mike didn’t mind. He lovingly got his favorite pair of worn and tearing jeans and knelt in the dirt, reminding himself what it was like to actually do something with his hands– he really had something going as a kid with all those Lego projects. Those days, he really only spent time at his desk shuffling papers. Mike would willingly trade paper cuts for all that dirt under his fingernails. He didn’t dislike his job though, let that be known. Copy editing was a joy and writing in his free time reminded him of planning campaigns, but Hawkins just never had sunshine like this.

Will and Mike didn’t runaway from Hawkins necessarily, but they did give their (unwanted) family a very short notice before packing their car up and driving east. They unpacked their boxes in their small cottage, faint sounds of the ocean reminding them they were far from their childhood, but had finally come home. They eloped– in the way that they could– in ‘95. Neither spoke a word, but quietly changed the single, default name on the mailbox to both. Will painted it on with his best attempt at a flower that seemed to have a face of some kind– but maybe that was Mike’s interpretation.

Will’s middle school art students seemed to like the plant’s “face” when he drew it on their work too, understandably so: Demogorgons looked cute when they had googly eyes and smiley faces.

“Good morning, Mr. Byers.” Mike stood up and turned at the sound of a young voice behind him. A girl was standing at the end of their front walkway, holding up her bike. Her hair was in two pigtails on the top of her head, wrapped in pink fuzzy hair ties.

“Hi. What can I do for you?” He couldn’t remember her name, but he knew she lived just down the road. Her parents made them a pie when they first moved in. He was allergic to it– but he didn’t hold that against them.

“Do you know where Mr. Wheeler is?” She asked. They’d traded names so technically they weren’t noticeably married, but could still enjoy answering to the last name of the other. Mike really liked being a Byers.

“He’s just inside, I can get him if you want. What’s wrong?”

“I messed up my bike.” She sighed, holding it out to him.

“Oh! I can help with that.” Mike wiped his hands on his jeans and used his shoulder to nudge some of his curls out of his way.

“It’s not just the chain– I fixed that myself. When I fell I scratched the paint up pretty bad… and I know Mr. Wheeler has good paints in his garage.” She looked down at her accident’s handiwork– a long scrape going along the entire length of the frame.

“Oh! You need an artist’s help. I understand– I’ll be right back.” Mike grabbed the banister and swung up the front steps. He made sure not to leave any smudged fingerprints on the door as he opened it and stepped inside. He kept his dirty shoes on the doormat. “Oh, Mr. Wheeler, the girl from down the street is here to see you. She has an art emergency.”

Will ducked and emerged under the hanging cabinets in the kitchen. He’d cut his hair above his ears, almost to balance out Mike’s, and finally started letting his hair swoop back and show his forehead. He was the most handsome man Mike had ever seen, and Mike thought it every time he laid eyes on Will. He knew he was lucky just getting out of Hawkins alive, but he considered his greatest luck finding Will all those years ago.

“Sara?” Will placed his dish towel down on the counter and walked around, coming toward the door. “What happened?”

“She crashed and needs some new paint.” Mike held the door open for Will, letting him onto the porch. “Here he is, Sara.” Mike was glad someone remembered people’s names.

“Hey, sweetheart! What happened!” Will gripped Mike’s arm and braced himself as he took the stairs. Mike could practically hear Will’s joints squeaking as loudly as the wood steps.

“A car blew a stop sign and I skidded to stop so fast it went sideways and slid right out from under me!” She groaned, rolling it toward him and exposing the scrape.

“Oh, God. Are you alright?” Will asked, squeezing Mike’s arm in response.

“Yeah, I had my elbow pads and helmet on. I’m fine.” She said. “But Sandra here really got it.”

“You named her Sandra?” Will smiled and braced his knees to crouch and admire the flaking paint. His knees popped as he sank down. “I don’t think I ever named mine when I was growing up– did you, Michael?”

“Nope. Me neither.” Mike shook his head. “If I did, I completely forget by now.”

“That’s fair.” Will muttered. He adjusted his weight on his feet and ran his hand over the exposed frame. “I don’t know if I have the same color as your bike, so how about a stripe? I can give you a racing stripe right down the side!”

“Can you?”

“Of course I can.” Will laughed, nodding. “I can even do a little design for you– Michael, you know where my really nice white paint is, right? On the–”

“Top shelf of your metal cabinet, just by the garage door? Yeah. I know where.” Mike touched the top of Will’s head as he stepped past them. “I’ll get your good brushes too.”

“Thank you, Mike.” Will grinned, somewhat shyly due to their audience, and watched Mike cross the lawn.

The garage was disconnected from the house and held all of Will’s art supplies as well as Mike’s old typewriter. Will’s easel was leaned up against the model bench and Mike’s old manuscripts were still in a bit of a mess on the lid of one of Will’s toolboxes. He’d clean that later, after he found that one passage he’d written ages ago and suddenly found a way to repurpose.

It was a short paragraph, maybe three sentences, about a brief memory Mike remembered having as a kid, but knowing he’d never lived it. It was a image of this figure– this boy– passing in front of his vision and drawing him farther and farther in to him. It had been a dream Mike had, knocked out and lying on his local mall’s floor. He’d thought he was being drawn to death then, but it turned out he was brought back to consciousness by the faint tug of his heartstrings.

He wanted to find it and rework it for an upcoming anniversary. The manuscript had never seen the light or day or the desk of any publishing house, but it had stuck with Mike since he’d buried it under boxes of old bike parts and vinyl records.

Mike grabbed the paint and Will’s brushes by the door before backpedaling and going to Will and their neighbor. Will was sitting on the grass by then, legs stretched out and hands gently patting his left knee as he spoke.

“– it’s supposed to rain soon too, so my knees aren’t any better. I’m okay though, Sara. Mr. Byers and I are just old.”

“You aren’t even thirty.” Mike quipped, placing the paint beside Will and gently nudging his leg.

“I’ve got old man knees though.” Will said, rubbing them slowly. “Sara was just asking my why bones sound like popcorn.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No! No!” Will laughed, reaching over for her arm gently. “It’s alright! It’s funny. They do, they really do sound like popcorn. I got it from an old childhood accident.” He used the back of a paintbrush to pop the lid to the paint. Mike held the can still, letting his already dirty hands get covered in the flakes of dried white paint.

“Did you play a sport, Mr. Wheeler? My dad said he hurt his knee back in high school playing football.” Sara asked, gripping Sandra tightly by the handlebars.

“No, nothing like that. I just fell when I was a kid. I was running inside– which I shouldn’t have been doing, that’s never safe– and I tripped over something and took this big spill. Rolled myself up into knots and really bumped up both my knees.” Mike didn’t remember Will getting so good at telling that lie.

In reality, Will was running toward Hopper’s cabin, deep in the woods, completely barefoot. The ground was uneven and Will’s legs were flailing out in unhealthy and painful directions as he forced himself to go ahead another inch. It was pitch black and the rest of the Party was standing on the porch, waving him forward and screaming to go just a little farther. In the last stretch, and last jump over a fallen tree, Will’s ankle caught on a branch and brought him tumbling down to the ground. The growling behind him grew louder as he tumbled through the fallen leaves and into rocks and sticker bushes. Mike didn’t remember leaving the safety of the porch, but he remembered pulling Will out of the foliage and dragging him the rest of the way to the house. He remembered crying too. That’s all.

“I’m fine, Sara. Don’t worry, I’ve got Mr. Byers here to help.” Will looked over his shoulder and winked at Mike before leaning back to the bike with his dipped paintbrush.

“Is he your helper?” Sara looked at Mike with such innocence and kindness. There was an instinct to feel guilty– like it would all go away if she only knew the truth. But Mike knew it was a false sense of guilt. Their marriage was the best thing in Mike’s life. He wasn’t ashamed.

“No, actually Michael’s my husband.” Will said, his hand moving steadily and making a clean stripe on Sara’s bike. “I’ve known him since we were kids.”

“Oh. T-That’s cool, I guess.” Sara said, obviously taken aback. She didn’t seem bothered, just wildly surprised. She’d lived next door to them for most of her life, and apparently it never occurred to her that young, happy men could be married too.

Part of Mike was pleased to be a surprise. Typically, that meant the person had never met a gay couple before. Mike was glad he and Will could be her starting example.

“I’m going to leave you two to your work, alright?” Mike said, wiping his hands on his jeans again. Sara had stopped staring at him, but had now moved on to Will. Mike was sure she had more questions. “I want to clean up the garage, Plum. I’ll be back.”

—

Mike sat down on the garage floor and started separating the loose pages and clipped manuscripts. Mike avoided reading any of his very old writing– it was still embarrassing to think he was published in his college lit mag forever with such sappy love poetry. At least he still had the work’s muse living with him. Helped him improve and write the same message again, far better: later, said embarrassing poem became Mike’s wedding vows so it wasn’t all a loss.

Before Mike could reach the bottom of his stack, the garage side door opened. Will placed his paint and brushes down on the floor and slowly approached Mike’s sporadic piles.

“What are you looking for?” He stood tall but squinted to try and read the pages below him.

“Something I wrote in college. I remembered it the other morning– remember when I stumbled out of bed for my notebook?” Mike laughed, turning to look up at his husband.

“When you tripped three times just getting across the room? Yeah. I remember. I thought we were being robbed. But it was just you having a stroke of genius?”

“If you want to call it that.” Mike held his arms out to the scattered organization with a sigh. “Did you fix Sandra up?”

“Sara’s already on her way home! Gave her a stripe and even wrote ‘Sandra’ on the side. Gave her flowers and swords, the whole nine.”

“Swords?”

“She told me she’s learning about Joan of Arc.” Will shrugged. “I thought it was pretty cool.”

“It is. And so are you.” Mike placed his unsorted pages down, frankly not needing their words anymore. His world was right there. Being absolutely adorable. Will placed his hand over Mike’s face and shoved him playfully.

“Help me inside, Mr. Byers?”

“That bad?” Mike’s tone changed in a snap, pushing off the ground and getting to his feet. “We should change out those stairs, Plum.”

“No, it’s just the barometric pressure. They’re fine.” Will took Mike’s hand. “A convenient excuse to keep you around though, have to say.”

“Don’t make me carry you again.” Mike jokingly went to sweep Will off his feet. Will yelped and jumped back with a giggle. “I’ll only hit your head on the doorway a little bit this time.”

“I love having to tell the story of ‘no the bruise I got on my wedding night was because my husband walked me into the doorway’. My mom thought we were idiots.” Will sighed, following Mike out of the garage.

“Babe, we are idiots.”

“Yeah, but she didn’t need to know that this late in the relationship. We’ve kept it a secret for quite a while, I like to think.”

"Will, for every monster we fought on a school night is another ten reasons we’re both idiots.” Mike reasoned. He stepped up onto the stairs first, letting Will pull up on his tensed arm for leverage. “You taught me that.”

Will grunted quietly as he pushed himself up the rest of the stairs. At the landing, he broke into a smile. “I know. I’m just testing you, Michael. Just testing you.”

“Shut up and get inside.” Mike laughed, swinging the front door open. “Make sure all the windows are closed before it rains, I’m going to make you some tea.”

“What? That’s not how that works.” Will laughed, shaking his head as he kicked off his shoes. “You know we didn’t open any windows last night.”

“Welp, looks like you have to sit down and let me make you tea.” Mike said, dramatically sighing and starting off toward the kitchen. Will shuffled after him, trying not to slip in his socks.

Their house was about the size of Will’s childhood home, maybe a bit smaller. They didn’t need much room, if Mike was being honest. All their childhood they’d practically lived right on top of each other, being able to do so as adults was a bonus. Between the foyer and the kitchen was only a small alcove with their round wooden dining table. It only held the two of them; they rarely had guests anyway.

Every time he passed by the table, he remembered that first month, sitting in the morning silence and staring out the window at the long stretches of trees. Will was sipping tea, careful not to slurp too loudly and get under Mike’s skin at seven in the morning. Under the table, Mike could hear Will gently rubbing his feet together: a habit of comfort Mike had learned to observe. Mike had been drinking coffee and eating a bagel, definitely getting crumbs everywhere. He’d placed his breakfast down and cleared his throat– twice– and placed his hand on Will’s. Will still made him nervous sometimes.

“Hey, Will?” Mike had said, careful to break his peaceful look.

“Yeah, Mike?”

The words were so easy to say. Mike couldn’t remember a time when they seemed so far off: “Will you marry me?”

“So, what stroke of genius did you have?” Will asked, easing himself down into his chair. Mike placed the kettle onto the stove with a furrowed look. “You said your old writing– a new idea came to you?”

“Oh! Right. I got confused when you said genius.” Mike teased.

He got out Will’s favorite mug and placed it on the counter beside his teabag. Originally, it had just been a random floral mug his mother had found at a thrift store, just trying to get enough mugs for when the entire Party– and monster hunting congregation– found its way into the Byers house. Will had been drinking out of it when they solved their last mystery; was steeping tea when he got accepted to college, and nearly spilled it diving for the phone to call Mike; and brought it to his dorm for his four years at MICA. And, obviously, it was the one he was drinking out of when Mike proposed– if you want to call it that. Mike considered it a waking up of sorts, of finally getting his shit together and asking Will the most obvious question.

“So, what’s the idea?” Will asked, placing his feet up on Mike’s seat. “You know I like hearing about them.”

“Yeah, I know. But this one’s boring.”

“Your ideas are never boring, Michael. I love them.” Will said sternly, although his smile ruined the effect. “I’m listening.”

The kettle began to whistle and Mike tried to use it as a distraction, but he could feel Will’s eyes patiently watching him.

“It’s an old something I wanted to fix up… it’s from college, but it’s about back from before we started high school.” He waved it off before pouring their water.

“You say that like it’s not any good.”

"It’s just about… this dream I had once.” Mike sighed. He rolled his eyes at his own preface. “It was when– okay, so do you remember that time in Starcourt when I was hit? I fell down and smacked my head really hard?”

“Do I rememb– yes, of course I do.” Will exclaimed. “I thought you’d shattered your skull right open in the goddamn food court while we were running for our lives.”

“Well, it’s just about that. The dream I had while I was completely knocked out for five minutes.” Mike tried to nudge it away with another shrug. He returned to the table quickly, still trying to maintain a feeling of nonchalance. Will took the mug slowly, narrowing his eyes but still thanking him. “What!”

“You’ve never told me about this before.” Will said, moving his feet up off Mike’s seat so he could slide under them. Mike always let Will rest his feet on his lap. “How is this new to me?”

Mike set his jaw, trying to defeat his growing smile. “It’s supposed to be a surprise! Don’t ask too many questions. It’s your anniversary gift, so don’t go poking around.”

“Michael, you don’t have to do anything for me!” Will reached over and grabbed both of Mike’s hands. “I don’t want you to.”

“You married me and let me buy you a house.” Mike said, like it was the simplest rebuttal. “I have to thank you every year. Afraid my luck will run out.”

“How many times have I told you,” Will said, pulling Mike’s hand up to his lips, kissing it quickly. “It’s not luck. That’s not why we’re together. It’s–”

“I know, I know.” Mike sighed, smiling. “It’s fate.”

Will grinned, his face lighting up; it was what Will had said in his own wedding vows. The moment Mike heard it, unprepared and already wonderfully weak at the altar, he started weeping. Before then, he’d never thought that everything in his life had all been for something. All of his past suffering could stop hurting, even for a moment. It wasn’t going to come back and haunt him; he had finally reached his own, permanent happiness. The one his family never said he’d have, the one he started to believe he was never meant to experience– only write about, growing envious of his characters.

But Mike’s happiness was there, sitting across from him and all around. It was 102 Peach Street, house of Mr. Michael Byers and Mr. William Wheeler. It was waking up to the same faint sound of even and slow breathing��� the reassurance he’d still get to live his best dream another day. On the hardest days, it was the paint-smudged young man that would come through the front door, smiling from ear to ear, already somehow knowing that Mike needed extra love– and an overly dramatic mwah of a hello kiss. On Mike’s best days, it was just Will.

No matter what, it was always Will. Mike had found his happiness, run headstrong into his fated future, and nothing was ever going to take it away.

Mike blinked, tears suddenly welling in his eyes, and thought of his dream. The floating figure was one he had always assumed as an angel– a sign that death was closer than it had ever been– and it was an angel. It was just that this one looked a whole lot like his childhood friend. Looked like his husband.

“Why are you crying?” Will moved his legs off Mike’s lap in order to pull his chair in closer. Will cradled Mike’s face, his thumbs moving over his cheeks slowly, waiting for a tear to fall. “Michael, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” Mike laughed, sniffling. “I just forget how kind fate was to me… I got the perfect house, the most beautiful husband with the most extraordinary heart, neighbors that bake us pies for fuck’s sake… Did you ever think we’d get all this?”

“No.” Will said, shaking his head. “But I always knew I’d have you. And that was always enough.”

Mike hiccuped a short but loud sob, laughing wetly. “God, you’re making me cry more. I love you. So so much.”

Will didn’t speak– he often never did when Mike was in his moods of disbelief. He just pushed Mike’s hair back from his eyes, looking at him with a sense of wonder, before leaning forward to kiss him.

When Mike closed his eyes, he knew the vision was no longer a memory and it definitely wasn’t a dream. No, it was a feeling. It was this feeling. One of comfort and relief, of letting Mike’s whole body relax into the warm touch of another person– another man. Laying on the floor of the mall, in danger and unconscious, Mike had been given a glimpse into his own future– and it was gloriously simple, safe, and sweet. It was Will.

ao3

[pinknerdpanda]

Tinsel & Light

Word Count: 1272 Characters: Cas x Reader Warnings: Tinsel, Castiel, Cats, Fluff Requested by: @ellen-reincarnated1967

A/N: This was written for my Merry Manda’s Panda Presents celebration. This was beta’d by @hannahindie and @wheresthekillswitch.

Masterlist

x

Tinsel & Light

The night had gone like every other for the last week or so; dinner, TV, a little reading before deciding to turn in early. As I had huddled under the thick, down comforter, struggling to find warmth, I glanced up to see my cat, Lady Grey, sitting atop my headboard. Her haughty gaze traveled over me, her lime green eyes judging me from her regal perch. I rolled my eyes, flicking my middle finger in her direction.

“Is there a reason you are making obscene hand gestures at innocent animals?” Cas’ voice should have made me jump, the sudden rasp a stark contrast to the still silence of the night. But his presence has always had a calming effect on me, even when he’s caught me off guard.

“She was looking at me,” I mumbled.

He sat on the foot of my bed, his elbows resting on his knees. He turned his eyes to me. A small smile tugged at his lips, matching his tone. “I’m looking at you, y/n.”

“And how do you know I’m not flipping you off under this blanket?”

“I can see through the fabric.”

I wrapped my arms around my torso unconsciously, sitting up. “Alright, Clark Kent. Settle down.”

“My name is Castiel,” He turned and looked almost disappointed.

“I know, Cas. Clark Kent was Superman…” he squinted at me. “Nevermind. What are you doing here, buddy?”

He squinted harder. “We had an appointment.”

“What appointment? It’s too late for appointments. I was going to bed.”

“I’m sorry, when you said we would talk ‘next week’ I assumed....”

“You assumed I meant it literally?” I smiled.

He looked away, embarrassment flaring in his cheeks. “Sorry, I should have called. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

I grabbed his arm before he could disappear. “Not a bother, I’m glad you’re here. What would you like to do?”

Castiel slowly turned to look at me, a glint in his wide eyes.

-----

“You’ve never done this before?” I gaped at him.

“This is my first time, yes. Though, I’ve always been intrigued by the idea of it. It sounds so incredibly...human.” His blue eyes twinkled in the low light. “Though I think I will require quite a bit of instruction.”

“Ok, well, I mean, it’s not rocket science. You just take this and put it in there.”

Cas pushed gently as instructed. “Like this?”

“You might have to really shove it in there...yeah, just like that. Good. A little fluffing here, a little finesse there and….boom. There we go!”

Cas’ eyes grew impossibly wide, pure joy radiating through him. “Now what?”

I chuckled, “Well, I always like to start with the lights.” I held up two strands of Christmas lights. “Do you want clear lights or multicolored? I have both.”

“Um…” he licked his lips as he considered his options. “Clear?”

He seemed so unsure. It was endearing. “Ok. There’s no wrong answer here, Cas. The angel wants clear lights, the angel gets clear lights.”

We set to work weaving the ropes of light around each branch of the artificial tree. I showed him the way my dad had showed me, so many years ago. After we wound the last few inches around the top of the tree, I bent down, picked up the plug and held it out to him.

“Would you like to do the honors?”

His chest swelled with pride as he nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. He took the end and plugged it carefully into the outlet. The sight was dazzling; every branch seemed to glow with an ethereal light. Cas stood, and stepped back to study at our work.

His head tipped gently to one side. “It’s beautiful!” He sighed. “It’s more perfect than I could have even imagined.”

“Oh, honey, it’s not done yet!”

I found the box of ornaments and baubles I’d collected over the years. A small bag sat on top, I opened it and pulled several strings of thin sparkly, silver tinsel.

“What do you do with that?” Cas’ forehead creased.

“This!” I took  the strands and draped them carefully over the branches, letting their ends hang limply on each side. The silver reflected the light, magnifying the glow of the tree. I held some out to the angel. He took one, hesitantly, and held it out, examining the way it shimmered like the surface of a pool. After several seconds, he reached up and placed it delicately on one of the higher branches. I watched him as he gauged his work. After careful consideration, one side of his mouth curled up in a satisfied smile. He looked at me and I nodded encouragingly, holding out the rest of the tinsel and letting him go to town. He worked slowly and meticulously until every last thread was on the tree.

“It looks like it’s alive,” Cas mused as he stepped back for a final examination. “Like the waves of the ocean as the sun rises.”

“You’re a natural at this, Cas!” I handed him a shiny red ball and we worked together, hanging every ornament until the box was empty and the tree was full of color and life.

Cas peered into the empty box, a tinge of sorrow playing on his features. “Well, I suppose that’s it then?”

“We haven’t done the tree topper yet.” I padded to the hall closet and reached up, grabbing a small box from the shelf and bringing it back to Cas. I opened the box and pulled a slightly battered and worn metal star from it.

“This was my grandmother’s. Every year when I was I kid, she would wait to decorate her tree until we could come over and help. She always let me put the star on top because she said I helped it shine a little brighter.” I smiled, staring lovingly at the metal in my hands. Finally, I held it out to Cas and looked up at him. His eyes were soft and full of an emotion I couldn’t quite name. He traced the top point with one finger and then dropped his hand.

“It sounds like your grandmother was a very wise woman,” he nodded toward the tree. When I didn’t move, he placed his hand on my back and nudged me gently. I smiled at him and stepped forward, placing the star on the very top.

Cas’ hand found mine, his thick fingers wrapping around my hand and tugging gently. I let him lead me to the couch and we sat, silently enjoying the warmth the light from the tree brought. After a while, he released my hand and wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me to his chest. I settled against him, listening to his heartbeat, strong and steady behind his white button down shirt. I sighed and smiled, trying desperately to memorize every detail of the moment.

“I’m glad we had an appointment, Castiel.” I stifled a yawn, as the weariness of the day settled on me.

“Me too, y/n. Tonight has made me very happy.”

A soft meow caught our attention, and we looked up to see Lady Gray sniffing at one of the bottom branches of the tree. Cas chuckled as she lifted a small, grey paw and batted gently at the strand of tinsel hanging there. She jerked, suddenly, and rolled on her back grabbing at the silver thread with her two front paws and pulling it from the tree. Cas tensed beside me.

“Y/n?”

“Hm?” I murmured drowsily.

“You may need to teach me one of those hand gestures you made earlier.”

Like what you see? Want more? My Masterlist is here. Thanks for reading! :)

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Christmas Tags: @sillesworldofwriting

[god-fucking-dammit-mizutani]

Here’s my reveal for the @tddkexchange for @ryanismynamee. Looks like you got 2 gifts for this??? So heyo hope you had a super great Holiday season! Also hope you like extra cheese because this. is literally just cheesy domestic fluff because I can.

Title: Ornaments

Words: ~2,694

Prompt: Cute Domestic Fluff

Summary: It’s their first Christmas together... Sort of.

A dense, gray worm of putty lines the rail of the living room window, an absolute eyesore, and the current bane of Shouto’s existence.

It’s one of many vexing issues inherited from the previous owner, and though Izuku had successfully propped the window ajar most of the summer without fracturing the wood, neither of them had been able to fully scrape the clay away without incidence. Air whistles through the newly formed cracks in the glaze now, singing Shouto to consciousness, concentrated breaths of winter blowing along the fringe of his bangs and tickling his nose.  

It is the scream of a siren, ultimately though, that creeps in with the cold and startles a part of him to wakening, and Shouto comes to the sensation of a weight already settled against his lower torso.

Soft, a voice in the back of his head needles to the forefront. Disturbingly, the timbre sounds still like his father’s. Sharp, accusatory. Frowning, he wonders if the old man’s voice is a permanent fixture, tattooed somewhere in his mind that cannot be erased or scarred over. You’re going soft.

The panic is distinctly his own.

The book, he remembers reading--had every intention to read when he settled up against the alcove wall by the window that afternoon--lays flattened against his chest. Shouto hears the paper crinkle with each breath he inhales, slightly shaky and quieted with force, and the other weight shifts until something round, yet decidedly pointed, pinches at Shouto’s ribcage.

“Sorry,” it says after he makes a few inaudible groans, flicking his wrist in a silent plea to move. Shouto let’s his hand fall limply, nerves plummeting in the wake of the familiar voice. The cheek under Shouto’s fingers feels cold still from the outside. He wills the temperature of his left side to rise, Izuku humming appreciatively as his own hand encircles Shouto’s. He doesn’t wait for Shouto’s eyes to fully stay open now that he’s shown signs of being awake, regaling him with anecdotes of his evening.

Izuku takes a deep breath, “And you can buy pellets or carrots and feed them.” Shouto nods along, eyes just barely supporting his upper lids, his fingers swirling around strands of green hair. Izuku leans in further, slumping over the bay window seat, nose just about aligned to the spine of the forgotten book, using Shouto’s stomach for his own cushion.

Izuku has yet to shed his jacket, though his shoes have been dispersed about the room, like bread crumbs to the door. A tall package levies against the frame of the living room entrance. It must have been a ruckus, carrying something that hefty through the house and Shouto feels worry pinch his nerves again. Have his defenses waned so quickly, so ineffectively since Yuuei--since Izuku-- that he no longer hears footsteps in his sleep?

Another bout of sirens sound off in the distance. Red lights bounce on the fog culminating outside. His ears ping for any static on the Hero Scanner, but all that echoes back is the sound of their own breathing. It must be a controlled civilian matter, he reasons, but his fingers twitch anxiously.

Izuku tugs on them, kissing the pads affectionately one by one. “Traffic accident,” he says without needing Shouto to voice his concerns. A siren light catches in his eyes and Shouto subdues his amusement; Izuku looks as if he’s captured a glint of Christmas for a brief moment. “Ochako’s clearing it now.” After a beat he adds, “No injuries.”

“Mm,” Shouto nods. The knowledge leaves him more sedated, drowsiness creeping back over his eyelids. “S’good to hear.”

“Don’t go back to sleep,” Izuku whines. Through half drawn eyes, Shouto watches him pluck the book off his chest, dog earring the page that had already been wrinkled by his chest, and drops it on the cushion by Shouto’s right arm. Izuku's jacket rustles and thunks to the floor. He looms over Shouto, tugging gently on his arms. It’s heartwarming. More than it should be, he thinks. But for someone who’s light workout days include bench pressing haul trucks, Izuku always takes conscious care when handling others, when handling Shouto.

He lets himself be pulled into a sitting position, but slumps forward into Izuku’s chest. His arms fall limply around the other’s waist and Shouto murmurs a sleepy, half joking, “Night,” as he noses under the collar of Izuku’s hoodie.

“Come on,” Izuku gives another half hearted whine, but Shouto can still feel the shiver he fails to suppress. “I got the tree. You promised, Shouto...”

Shouto thinks of the giant box in the entryway, of Izuku’s stray shopping mall tales. Yesterday’s half asleep promise comes back to him, about plastic trees and decorations, and he gives a faux dramatic huff.

Izuku nudges his chin with light, scarred fingers, pulls Shouto from the warmth of his collar, and leaves a few chaste kisses to his lips. Shouto can feel the cricks in his neck, souvenirs of his stray nap.

“Come on,” Izuku pleads again, lips turning upwards. Shouto’s raise to match as he leans in again, pressing their lips for a second longer. “It’s our first Christmas together,” Izuku breathes in to his mouth, pulls him closer with a world ending kind of kiss. Shouto almost forgets himself in it; the world, windows that don’t work, trees, Christmas.

“It’s our sixth,” Shouto corrects him. His hands have found their way to Izuku’s face, palms resting over the swell of his beloved’s cheeks when he grins back at Shouto, lovingly, adoringly. Shouto barely has to tug, barely curl his fingers a centimeter before Izuku succumbs to his silent request for another kiss.

“Married.” He emphasizes the word with a peppering of his lips, to the side of Shouto’s mouth, the curve of a dimple, the tip of his nose.  Izuku’s eyes gleam, living emeralds in the dark of their dwelling. “We’re married, Shouto.”

Almost a year, Shouto nearly volleys back, but Izuku looks as excited as if it were the same night they took their vows. The excitement catches like a match, sets a warmth in his chest that his own quirk cannot replicate, and Shouto feels his body tingle the same way it had that night with nerves, and a happiness he hadn’t quite expected.

“Oh,” he says instead, blinking lazily. “I’ll stay awake.” His voice still crackles with sleep, but he rubs the corner of his eyes with the heel of his palms.

Izuku glows. He leaves with a quick peck to Shouto’s cheek, “I’ll get the decorations.”  

Without Izuku, the alcove feels cold again. Beside him the window shutters, wind knocking against the single pane like a distressed visitor. Several cars blear down the street, casting shadows on the wall. Izuku finally returns with several boxes in hand, using the edge of one to swipe on the living room lights. Shouto hisses at the unexpected sting, shielding his eyes in the crook of his elbow.

“Sorry,” Izuku says, absently. He listens to the jingle of ornaments as his husband kicks the boxes around, setting into work with a flurry of mutterings and ripping cardboard. By the time Shouto’s eyes adjust to the light, Izuku has just placed the last piece of their new fake tree into its slot, hands working to shape the artificial pines into a fuller image. Shouto’s heart beams watching the man, reverent and focused.

December brings life to Izuku in more ways than just a healthy flush to his cheeks. He loves Christmas in the same vein as Western children do, has ever since an interview with All Might aired where the man admitted he celebrated the holiday. His mother had encouraged it, and Shouto had felt overwhelmed the first time they’d invited him to Christmas dinner when they’d started dating, showered him in thoughtful gifts and cheer.

Shouto pads across the room, slumping into the couch closer by. Izuku hands him a candle from one of his shopping bags and Shouto wills a single flame to the tip of one of his fingers. The wick sets off with a small crackle, and Shouto takes it from his husband’s hand to set it on the coffee table. “Forest fantasy,” Izuku tells him.  

“Smells nice,” Shouto says.  

Izuku hums, “Lady at the mall suggested it.” Shouto turns to catch the hook of a frown on Izuku’s lips. “It’s not really the same, but I thought… I thought it was close enough.”

Shouto’s no longer sure if he’s talking to him or at the tree, but he nods anyway. His eyes drift back to the candle, the tiny flicker working over a pool of slowly melting wax, splashing the scent of pine about the living room. He knows for Izuku that close enough is not exactly the same, and Shouto feels a small clench in his chest. A plastic tree had been their compromise this year, his own idea. Easier to care for, less likely to dry out and burn if they were careless, if they couldn’t come home. In their line of work, there were no promises of tomorrow.

With an exclamation of ‘aha!’ the lights flicker on in Shouto’s peripheral. Warm, crooked fingers lace through the white of his hair and Shouto stares back up at his husband’s soft face, though the other’s eyes are on his handiwork, admiringly.

“Still awake,” Shouto says, automatically. Izuku breathes a laugh, like the sort he puffs against Shouto’s lip between kisses and, oh, he loves the sound of it more than music.  

“I got some extra lights, too. They were half off,” Izuku adds. “We could string them around the tree. I think it’d look nice. Extra lights. Hide all the, uh, empty space and… uh, wiry branches.” Izuku’s fingers absently scrunch through his hair and Shouto leans into the touch. His thumb rubs short, soothing circles into his scalp and Shouto thinks he could just about purr, or fall into another nap. But he promised.

“Do you want me to start on the ornaments?”

“Would you?” Shouto almost regrets bringing it up when Izuku retracts his fingers to grab for his bag of extra lights across the room.

Shouto hoists himself up from the couch, limbs protesting all the way to the floor. He kneels before the boxes marked ‘XMas Decorations’ in Izuku’s messy scrawl and runs the index finger of his left hand over the packing tape, polypropylene giving way easily under the right pressure of heat. He catches Izuku watching him from the tree now where he’s draping lights over branches. His green eyes gleam with wonder, as if he’s thrilled to learn another trick from Shouto’s quirk. Likely, he is.

The boxes take barely any time to open like this and Shouto takes to laying the ornaments out on the floor, uncrumpling them from their tissue paper prisons. His eyes hover over each of them, quietly arranging their place on the tree in his mind’s eye. In six years he has memorized the story behind each one, watching Izuku excitedly recount them every year as he placed them on the tree. Family vacations, stories of All Might, of the friend’s who had gifted them; Shouto knows them all.

He reaches for the bulkiest ceramic likeness of his former teacher, a rather defined image of All Might in his prime. A classic. Izuku’s first ever, and favorite, ornament. A gift from his mother from their first celebrated Christmas together. It is always, always, always front and center--

Izuku’s hand comes down to brush over his own, thwarting him from grabbing at the figurine. Shouto is momentarily transfixed by the way candlelight refracts and shimmers about the ring of gold on his finger there.

“Hold on! I-I almost forgot,” Izuku murmurs. His right hand moves through his dark curls, a dusting of pink highlighting above his cheek bones. Adorable. Shouto is still as every bit charmed by this man now as he was six years ago in the simplest of ways. “I got something for you. For us, kind of…”

There’s a tingling sensation that lights up the nerves in his chest as Izuku pads back across the room to his supply of forgotten bags. He returns with a fairly large sized one that looks almost emptied save for the slight sag to the side where something weighs it down to a corner.

“I figured it could be like a… a tradition of ours, maybe? If you want to, that is! I think its normal for families--I mean, one’s who decorate at least. Like once a year we can go out and get one together. Well I got it this year, so maybe you can do it next time?” Izuku regards the bag, his voice slowly turning to gibberish as his free hand covers the underside of his chin. Shouto feels the breath of a laugh leave his lungs.

“Izuku,” he tries to no avail.

“Izuku,” he attempts again. His spouse seems to acknowledge the sound of his name, head tilting just barely a few centimeters towards the source, but it doesn’t quite cut off the stream of consciousness that has led to Izuku’s personal debate on if themes are important or unnecessary.

“Can I see it?” Shouto finally asks, lightly huffing.

Izuku laughs, finally pulled from his reveries and relinquishes the present into Shouto’s awaiting hands. It’s even lighter than he suspects. He reaches into the bag, ever aware of Izuku’s intense stare on his face, and pulls out a wad of tissue paper.

“I got it custom,” Izuku explains as Shouto peels the first layer of tape and paper away. His hands come up to rest on his face, but Shouto has already seen the plume of red surfacing there. “And-And I know you like cats so I…I thought you’d like it. I know it’s cheesy, but I couldn’t resist.”

Shouto divides his attention between his husband’s prattle and the gift in his hands, catching Izuku’s excitement once more somewhere in his own chest.

He exposes a tiny, clay cat ear first, followed by it’s head. Shouto wastes no time in undressing the ornament from there, using a delicate hold to the clay neck as leverage while tugging the paper away from it and reveals the second cat, it’s mirror image on the right. Shouto holds the figure up to his eyes, fingers poking through the thread looped about the center and letting the ornament sway to rest against the tilt of his palm with a nice weight. His breath hitches a moment.

It’s a fairly rustic looking ornament, a deep gray and very little frill to it but it leaves a vibrant impression on him. The cats are full figured, sitting back to back with their heads tilted towards one another, and he finds them just endearing enough to look at, but they do not cause the swell in his chest. Between them, their tails intertwine, up and around, until they shape a little heart filled with an ivory plating. In the center of the heart, engraved with ornate cursive, is both of their names and the message 'Our First Christmas'.

“You were right,” Shouto says with a short laugh. “It’s very cheesy.”

"I was-- I was thinking," Izuku says, looking bashfully at Shouto through his fingers, "we could put it at the center this year. If-If you want to, I mean!"

It is odd, Shouto finds, to be completely at peace with the idea that his heart could just burst, it feels so overwhelmingly full.

"Yeah," he finally manages, "I would like that."

Izuku visibly relaxes, lights dancing in the highlights of his dark hair. The urge to kiss him thrums in Shouto's veins as second nature to him now as fire. He is mindful of the land mine of ceramics and delicate baubles between them as he leans forward. Izuku meets him, as always, halfway across the divide.

Soft, he muses, but this time tonight when he thinks it, the voice is his own and the connotation light, bubbly. Just the way he feels when his hands are in Izuku’s hair, when he tastes his husband’s smile on his own lips.