#sometimes you have to lean into the first silly thought you had for a prompt :DDD

[adiduck]

@oathkeeperoxas asked for 72. "Kiss me" for SaintSpy May! You got it, my friend! Send me a kiss for SaintSpy May!

-

72. “Kiss me”

A fun fact about Jude’s husband is that—not only can he not sing, he needs to be actively discouraged from doing so any time the mood takes him. Which is, unfortunately, far, far too often.

A fun fact about Jude is that he is terrible at doing this.

Case in point, Ethan is in their kitchen right now, their puppy in his arms, caterwauling—heh—an old pop song to her as he rocks her around like a baby and she occasionally stretches her long neck and snout up to lick at Ethan’s chin enthusiastically. Jude has no idea how this happened, and frankly he’s not sure he should ask.

“Kiss meeeeeee, beneath the milky twilight,” Ethan sings, forte and unforgivably off-key, pausing to accept more licks with a laugh. “Lead meeeeeee out on the moonlit flooooor—”

Jude really needs to put a stop to this for the sake of his ears. The issue is that it’s really, really cute.

“Lift your open haaaaand,” Ethan croons—very very badly—at their puppy, and leans down to drop a few kisses on Cat’s little paw. Cat licks him straight on the mouth, tail wagging so hard it’s thumping off Ethan’s chest. “Strike up the baaaaaand, and make the fireflies daaaaaaaance,” he pauses. “Uh. Something something soooomething—” He drops some more kisses on their very over-excited puppy’s head.

“Silver moon’s sparkling,” Jude offers from the door—spoken, not sung. Ethan looks up and grins at him, not at all surprised to know Jude’s lurking just outside the room.

“Thank you. Silver moon’s spaaaarkliiiiiing,” he adds, in what probably is supposed to be sung. Jude shakes his head, finally letting himself into the room as Ethan drops so more kisses on Cat’s little ears, holding onto her as she wiggles, eyes cutting back to Jude as he does. “So kiiiiiss meeeee—”

“If it will shut you up,” Jude allows, and leans over as Ethan straightens up, taking a slow, languid kiss, enjoying Ethan’s smile up against his lips—

—and reaching up to catch their kitty-Cat, as the presence of both her dads in close proximity this far above the ground becomes too much for her, and she wriggles so excitedly she nearly slips out of Ethan’s arms.

Cat makes a tiny puppy vocalization—a rolling little roorawwwroo that sounds just a little like the song Ethan had been singing—ah.

“Are you singing, little girl?” Jude asks, pulling away to grin down at Cat. “You sound much better than your dad, I’m going to be honest—” Ethan cracks up. Jude grins and continues. “—but you should be using your pillow! Where’s your pillow, noodle, hm?”

“Over in the corner,” Ethan says. “She was making noise around it.”

“Ah,” Jude says, and Ethan lets him take the puppy from him. He wanders over to the corner near the window and picks up the pillow, offering it to Cat as she makes another noise. She chomps down on it. “What a good girl,” he says, crooning—positive reinforcement of good behaviors, instead of the behavior you don’t want your dog to do, like all the books he’s been reading say to do. “Very good pillow. Yes!”

Ethan’s arms slide around his waist from behind. He—does some approximation of humming the song again. A few bars. So kiss me.

Jude sighs, and turns to comply. Probably, this is why Ethan continues this behavior Jude would prefer he stop.

Ah, well. Jude supposes he can live with the singing, in the end.

-

[steddieas-shegoes]

not so different

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt ‘graduation’

rated t | 994 words | cw: mention of past character death, mention of alcohol, language | tags: childhood friends, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, good uncle Wayne Munson

🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦

Steve Harrington didn’t cry, not even when he fell off the slide at the playground and his knee bled for 15 minutes and his nanny had to call his mom.

But this was a special instance where he was allowed to be sad. His nanny even said so. He watched all the kids in his kindergarten class taking pictures with their moms and dads, uncles and aunts, grandpas and grandmas, and wondered why he didn’t have anyone here for him.

He found an empty classroom in the big kid hall as soon as the ceremony was done, sat behind the teacher’s desk, and cried into his knees.

“Did your daddy not show up either?” A voice asked from in front of him.

He lifted his head, vision blurry and face wet, to see Eddie.

Eddie had already done kindergarten once, but he had trouble with his phonics, so they kept him behind. He was the first kid to talk to Steve in class, but within a few days, Tommy and Carol and Heather had scared him away from Steve entirely.

“Um, no.”

“What about your mama?”

“She’s with my dad.”

“My mama is with God. Or that’s what a lot of people say. I dunno if she was friends with him or not, though. I think she just got buried in the ground and people are scared to tell me,” Eddie was sitting next to Steve now, his leg knocking against Steve’s.

Eddie didn’t sit still very well, and the teacher always said he had ants in his pants. Steve hoped he didn’t have them in there now; he didn’t want any ants on him.

“Where’s your dad?”

“He’s probably getting ‘rested again. He showed up being silly and my Uncle Wayne had to take him outside,” Eddie shrugged.

“Is he tired?” Steve asked, sniffling and leaning more against Eddie.

“No. Uncle Wayne says sometimes he has too much of the drinks in the bottles I’m not allowed to touch and it makes him act like he don’t got a brain,” Eddie didn’t sound that sad, but Steve still wanted to hug him. “So your daddy isn’t here?”

“No. I think he forgot.”

“Sorry he forgot. My Uncle Wayne never forgets. He even came to the lunch room for my birthday. He brought me a piece of pizza!” Eddie always sounded more excited than anyone else. Most of the kids in the class thought it was stupid, but Steve kind of liked the way his eyes got wide and his smile got so big it took up most of his face. “Maybe he can bring you a piece for your birthday next year.”

“He doesn’t even know me.”

“You can come meet him!”

The classroom door opened just as Eddie started to stand and reach for Steve’s hands to pull him up.

“There ya are, Ed! Been lookin’ everywhere. You want some ice cream?” An older man stood by the door, button up plaid shirt only half-tucked into his jeans.

“Can we bring Steve? He’s my friend.”

Steve’s head turned, shocked that Eddie would say that.

“We gotta ask his parents first, Ed.”

“His parents didn’t come.”

“Oh.” The man looked Steve up and down before seemingly settling on something. He gave a small smile and gestured for him to come closer. “What’s your favorite flavor, then?”

“I dunno. Never had anything except vanilla,” Steve admitted, afraid to look at the man who had to be Eddie’s Uncle Wayne.

“Well, that just won’t do, will it? Let’s go try every flavor at the diner. Benny just added a few new ones. Think there’s even a bubblegum one.”

Eddie clapped his hands and dragged Steve out the door by his arm.

“I bet you’ll like mint chip,” he said as Wayne followed behind them, fond smile on his face.

🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦

Steve Harrington had only cried a few times in his life, but this was the second time it was happening in front of Eddie.

Eddie wasn’t conscious this time, though.

“If you wake up, I’ll take you to the diner and we can have ice cream. They’ve got a new raspberry white chocolate flavor that you’d like. I could use some mint chip right now,” Steve said around the tears.

Wayne had left the hospital an hour ago to freshen up and grab one of his crossword puzzle books. Steve had been crying for most of that hour, holding Eddie’s hand and quietly begging him to wake up.

Two days without hearing his voice or watching his smile light up the room was too long, especially after having it for the last 13 years.

“How��re you gonna walk at graduation if you’re still asleep here, huh?” Steve closed his eyes and wiped at his cheeks.

“You can walk with me.”

Steve’s head shot up at Eddie’s quiet, but surprisingly strong voice.

“Eddie!”

“Hey, Stevie. Heard you’re takin’ me for ice cream,” Eddie’s smile was crooked, the bandage on his cheek covering one of his dimples.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except for Eddie being awake, being alive, being okay.

“Yeah, Eds. Every day if you want,” Steve wanted to crawl into the bed with him, hold him close and feel him breathing and listen to his heartbeat, be sure he was there.

“Gonna hold you to that.”

“Soon as you can leave, that’ll be our first stop. Promise.”

Eddie closed his eyes, but the smile remained on his face. “You slept?”

“A bit.”

“So no.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “A bit.”

“C’mere.”

“Honey, you’re hurt-“

“Come here.”

Steve got in bed slowly, making sure he kept space between himself and Eddie’s injuries.

“Think I’ll graduate?”

Steve snorted. “They’d be stupid to hold you back after you saved everyone.”

“Yeah. ‘M a hero. Fuck Hawkins High.”

Steve could feel more tears trickle down his cheeks, but these were different.

These were relieved tears, happy tears.

“Yeah, honey. Fuck them.”

“Love you, though.”

“Love you so much.”

[pretty-little-mind33]

Dave Lizewski x fem!reader

Summary: Being partners with Kick-Ass is far more intimidating when you have a huge crush on him, especially when he won't stop talking about his crush.

Prompt: hurt and comfort - "I'm so sick of pretending like everything is okay."

here you go, my darling @lavieenvalentina! ily! seeing you in my notifs always makes me so happy!

DAVE LIZEWSKI MASTERLIST

BLURB MASTERLIST

The night is humid and hot and nothing seems to be going your way. 

First, your costume had shrunk in the laundry making the middle feel three sizes too small. Second, it had been drizzling outside and now your hair is frizzy, and third—your partner, Kick-Ass, has been going on and on about this girl Katie from his high school. 

You know Katie. You've deduced you go to the same school. She's all sugary sweet on the outside, but she's been casually teasing you since middle school, which is something you can't exactly tell him considering your identity must remain a secret. 

It doesn't help that you don't know who Kick-Ass is either. Hell, he could be one of the stupid popular jocks for all you know and then you'd so feel silly.

"And her hair is so silky and smooth, I wonder how she—" Kick-Ass continues as you walk, grinning like an idiot. You don't know how much longer you can take this agony, but you try and listen to him anyway.

"You okay?" he asks after more rambling because he can now sense you aren't listening. 

You pause, stopping at a crossroads and then you turn to him. "I should go home, there isn't any crime happening," you say, needing some time alone and away from him. 

"Did I say something wrong?" he asks, his voice low and hoarse. It's the tone that makes your cheeks feel warm and your heart flutters uncontrollably. Behind his mask, his bright blue eyes shine and he's looking at you like some poor puppy who can't understand why his owner won't give him a bone. 

"Don't look at me like that," you say, taking his arm and pulling him into a small alley. 

"Like what?" he sounds genuinely confused as he leans against the brick wall. 

"Like a damn wounded puppy!" you exclaim, throwing up your arms in exasperation, "As if I've kicked you or something stupid. Why do you always have to act like the one who's hurt when all you do is hurt me?!"

The words tumble from your lips.

"I hurt you?" he whispers, his concerned expression obvious even with almost his entire face covered. "How? I thought we were friends. You're the best damn friend I've ever had."

"You don't know me," you interrupt him and fiddle with the latex of your glove, "not really." 

"Well, I could know you," Kick-Ass says, sounding very determined. "You're the one who doesn't want to know me. I've told you a thousand times you can trust me. I've even told you my name."

Your eyes widen at this revelation. "What? When?"

"The first week we met, you never told me yours but whatever," he shakes his head and then outstretches his hand, "Here, I don't mind. I trust you. My name is Dave," he says casually.

You suddenly click all the pieces in your head and your smile drops.

"Dave Lizewski?" you whisper, suddenly recognizing his voice. Of course, how could you not have recognized him? You sit next to Dave in Pre-Calculus every single day. Dave hangs around with Katie all the time. You look him up and down.

His eyebrows crease. "How did you know that?" he asks suspiciously.

You think, screw this, and untie your mask from behind your head, letting it drop into your hands. You look up, almost afraid of his reaction.

Dave's eyes widen and he stutters out your name, the syllables stuck in his throat as he processes that it's you.

He didn't consider you a friend at school, but you��always helped him in Pre-Calculus when you could so he liked you. Plus, you're gorgeous and he can't deny that before Katie Deauxma, he'd thought of you in inappropriate ways—sometimes he still does.

His cheeks burn bright red. 

"It's you," is all he can muster.

You shrug and look away from him. "This is so stupid," you say and then turn to him again, "We're so stupid for not knowing. I mean, we talk all the time."

Dave pulls off his mask. Luckily no one is walking around this dinghy alley to see you both. Your breath catches in your throat at seeing Dave, his hair messy and stuck to his skin, his glasses abandoned and dressed in his Kick-Ass suit. 

You start to laugh. You aren't laughing at him but at this absurd situation. 

Dave doesn't take it like that and he scrunches up his nose. "Are you laughing at me?"

You shake your head and look at him seriously. "No, I'm laughing because if I had known waking up today that the boy I have a crush on was none other than Dave Lizewski from Pre-Calculus—I think I would have pinched myself."

Your words sink and Dave's eyes widen until he looks almost scared. "What?"

"You know Katie thinks you're gay. That's the only reason she's your friend," you interrupt. You feel the need to tell him, like jealousy and pure venom is slipping from your mouth. Is it mean? A little, but you think it's time someone should burst his bubble.

Dave frowns, your previous statement slipping his mind momentarily. "I know that," he tells you, defensive. 

"Then why on earth do you have to go on and on about her all the time?"

"Sorry, I didn't realize I was inconveniencing you, Y/n," he snaps without hesitation, crossing his arms.

"Well, you are," you snap back, glaring at him and looking at him like this, knowing who he is, makes this a thousand times harder.

If Kick-Ass did turn out to be a stupid, meat-head, jock then this would be so much easier. Only he isn't. He's Dave Lizewski  and Dave is sweet and he's funny and he's brave and—

"I'm so sick of pretending like everything is okay," you blurt out and bury your face in your hands. 

Dave is quiet for a moment until he walks closer and pulls your hands down so he can look at you. "Okay, listen, can we please rewind for a second?" he asks, "y-you said you have a crush on me."

You shake your head and warmth spreads across your cheeks. 

"You did," Dave insists. 

"Doesn't matter, it's stupid."

"It does matter," he says and his hands cup your cheeks, hair falling and tickling his wrists as his mask hangs from his hand. "It matters because you're lovely and kind and I really like you." 

"Not the way I like you," you counter, "you like Katie Deauxma." 

Dave winces and he can't argue. His feelings don't just magically disappear, although he can admit that for some reason—after seeing you in this light—something inside him shifted. Something he can't explain right now.

"Y/n, you don't know me either," he tells you honestly, "you may know Kick-Ass a little, and you may like him, but you don't like Dave."

Not yet, you want to finish but you don't. You keep your mouth shut. He has a point.

"Just don't talk about her anymore, will you?"

Dave smiles a little, nodding his head. "Okay. Promise," he looks into your eyes, his gaze flickering to your lips. 

He has a really strong feeling he won't need to talk about Katie anymore. 

tags: @earth-elemental18

[wooahaes]

party hats & kitty cats

pairing: non-idol!lee know x fem!reader

genre: fluff. established relationship au.

warnings: food. one-off line about having kids in the future. discussion of expanding the family via adopting a new cat.

word count: 1.3k~

daisy's notes: oh to adopt a cat w lino....

Minho shifted next to you, causing you to lift your head off of his shoulder. “Hold on,” he said, voice soft as could be so as to not disturb you (or, more likely, the cats asleep around you). “Keep your head held up.”

Which was what prompted you to open your eyes right as a string fell snugly against the underside of your chin. Minho pushed it back so it would sit more comfortably, continuing to manipulate the party hat on your head until it looked right. That was when you realized he was wearing one, too. 

“What?” 

You’d been drifting off a little too much despite the carnage going on the screen (the powers of a bad horror movie, for sure), halfway to dreamland when he moved. The first time, you hadn’t had to move too much—assuming that Minho had just been reaching for his drink. The second time, you thought he’d been putting it back. And now he was just watching you with this playful look in his eyes, proud at his own silly little joke. 

“Pretty,” he mused aloud. Then he leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss against your lips before getting up for real this time. The action earned a curious ‘mrrp?’ from Doongie, who had been sleeping at your feet until now, and Minho looked at him. “Doong-doong-ah, just stay there.”

Doongie promptly hopped down off of the couch to follow him instead, cat DNA requiring that he not follow orders from anyone but himself. You just relaxed against the couch, reaching a hand up to pet Soonie where he’d curled up to sleep. He raised his head lazily, purring once you began to scratch underneath his chin. Dori had popped his head up from where he’d been batting around a little mouse toy, watching Minho carefully as he moved about the kitchen with Doongie at his heels. You just found yourself smiling at the scene. Sometimes you joked that Minho fell in love with you once you met his cats and began to adore them almost as much as he does, but sometimes you truly think this relationship wouldn’t have lasted this long if you weren’t all-in on moving in with him and the three cats. You turned your attention back to Soonie for barely a second before you heard the click of a lighter.

And then a minute later, Minho began to sing to you. He made his way over, holding a small cake that was enough for the two of you. Doongie followed after him as he came back to you, all too curious and needing to know exactly what was going on in his home without him knowing ahead of time. Minho carefully lowered himself onto the couch next to you, holding up the cake for you.

“Did you make this?” You asked once he stopped singing.

He shook his head. “I was going to,” he said. “But I decided to focus on cooking dinner instead.” 

Good, you thought to yourself. The dinner Minho had cooked for you was a little elaborate. The idea of him making you a cake and dinner, especially when the cake was decorated a little extravagantly, would have been too much. He’d pouted at you when you went the extra mile on his birthday considering how much you’d been working lately, gently chastising you when you were left exhausted after everything.

“I don’t need anything that special,” he’d told you while the two of you were laying in bed, his arms wrapped around you. “Your health is more important to me.”

You turned a little to look at him over your shoulder. “You didn’t like it…?”

“I loved it,” he kissed the side of your shoulder. “I always love the things you do for me. But…” His fingers grazed against the skin, exposed from where your shirt has ridden up. “I don’t want you to sacrifice your wellbeing for me. Okay?”

You had made him promise to do the same, something he’d easily done and sealed with a soft kiss before snuggling in for the night. Now he sat before you, the candlelight illuminating his face more than the television screen did. 

“Make a wish already,” he’d lightly teased. “You can stare at me later.”

With a roll of your eyes, you turned your attention to the lit candles. For a moment, you debated on what to wish for before settling on something achievable, hopefully. You shut your eyes, blowing out the candles before the smell of smoke immediately greeted you. When you opened your eyes, Minho had reached for one of the forks he’d casually left on the coffee table earlier. You’d assumed at the time that he simply brought too many and would return it to its drawer later, but of course he was a step ahead of you. 

“So?” He pushed the fork into the cake, apparently intent on feeding you the first bite before he’d pass the fork to you. He held it up. “What did you wish for?”

“I thought telling you meant it wouldn’t come true?” You teased before closing your lips around the fork, sweet vanilla buttercream bursting over your taste buds as you enjoyed the first bite of your cake. This had to be the same bakery you ordered his birthday cake from last year. Their vanilla buttercream had a certain quality to it that you could never put your finger on (Felix would know, though: he’d complimented it at Minho’s party). 

“Is it something I can do?” He asked. When you played up your debate before nodding, he rolled his eyes, scooping up another bite of cake for you. “Then tell me.” 

“I was thinking…” You went to take the fork, only for Minho to pull it away from you. A hostage situation, apparently. Unfair. “We could maybe expand the family a little?”

He gave you the most confused look in response. “You said you didn’t want to have kids until later on—”

“Not kids,” you said. “Maybe… We could get another kitten?” 

Minho nodded along to the question, thinking it over. He pushed the fork back toward you, purposefully not letting go. You decided to oblige once more as you ate the bite of cake. “We’d have to see about fostering first,” he said, already figuring out the reality of adopting a new kitten when you already had three rambunctious cats around. “Find a space that the others can’t get to while we introduce them to each other…” 

Finally victorious in stealing the fork from him, you pushed it through the cake and held out a bite to him. The two of you had shared enough at this point anyway. “So we’ll look into it?”

He nodded. “I think we could. It’ll mean more work looking after them, but I think we could handle it.” He looked at Soonie, reaching up to scratch him between the ears. “Although if the cats don’t respond well, I don’t know if we could go through with it…” He hummed to himself for a moment, thinking harder about it. “Maybe a girl? It doesn’t matter either way, but maybe it’d be nice to have a girl cat around. We’d have to find one spayed or get her spayed when she’s older—”

“Minho.” 

He immediately turned back to look at you, realizing how lost he’d grown in kitten adoption thoughts. His gaze flickered back to the fork in front of him, and he smiled at you for a minute before leaning forward to accept the bite. “Thank you,” he said after swallowing. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” you giggled. “It’s cute that you care so much.” 

He lowered the cake he’d been balancing on one hand, carefully leaning over it so that he could kiss you. When he drew back, his eyes were all twinkly, so obviously giddy over the prospect of a new cat. Or maybe that was just the way Minho looked when he looked at you. His friends told you once that Minho adored you completely, and it was evident when they saw the way he looked at you.

“Happy birthday,” he said for the final time that night. “I love you so much.”

taglist: @twancingyunhao @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @jinnie-ret @cheesemonky

[blushweddinggowns]

Prompt number 2 bc I’m praying for more jealous Steve content. Bc Eddie can be so oblivious and Steve can be such a bitch and those things are so important to me

Eddie was a glutton for self-punishment, that was the only reasonable explanation he could come up with on what the fuck he was doing here. Sitting at some random gay bar as he watched the man he loved dance the night away with his bestfriend.

He just had to volunteer to be their designated driver. Maybe it was stupid, but Eddie thought that y'know, a gay bar meant that no he would not have to watch Steve flirt with some randos. But he forgot the small detail that bisexual people existed. And he had seen at least three damn girls slip Steve their number.

Which was just...so fucking cruel. Why did life always have to do him so dirty? Eddie had thought that maybe...if they went to this type of place together Steve's mind would open up a bit. A stupid fucking thought honestly. Based off of nearly nothing. Like, okay sure, Steve was all touchy feely with him sometimes. When he was high or drunk suddenly Eddie became his personal chair. And he would say just...the sweetest shit. Going on and on about how happy he was to have met him, how he's so glad he's alive and well, how funny Eddie was, how nice and sweet and pretty and...and all of it had sent his traitorous brain into a tailspin that had him thinking he actually had a chance with a straight guy.

And the fucked up part was that Eddie had really tried to start doing the right thing. He put a little distance between them when he figured out that he was past a silly crush. No he was head over heels for the guy and he needed to get over it. Fast. And if he could just start saying no when Steve called to get high or have a few beers together he probably would have made some progress by now.

But no, he was still to eager for contact with him to say no. Which made him feel like a creep, always waiting around for Steve to be a little out of his mind just so he could get a hug.

When did he become so pathetic?

The only slight comfort he had tonight was the fact that he wasn't alone. It really wasn't fair to bring a straight guy to a place like this, but at least every guy who had eyes on Steve was going to have to suffer in silence with him.

And some of them were kind of cute. Cute enough for Eddie to try and use one as a distraction. He was sitting next to a preppy looking guy, talking to him a little bit. Maybe he shouldn't have set his eyes on someone that kind of looked like Steve, but fuck it. His name was Andrew, and he was nice, a good flirt. The perfect diversion for when Eddie could tear his eyes away from Steve.

And things were actually getting a little interesting with him. He had his hand on Eddie's arm, leaning in to loudly whisper everything he said in Eddie's ear. He was smiling at him, close enough for Eddie to see the pretty gold flakes in his eyes.

They weren't as pretty as Steve's but they'd do.

Andrew tucked a bit of Eddie's hair back behind his ear, leaning in again. But he didn't go for his ear this time, no, he was zeroing in right to Eddie's lips. Not that he was complaining, he let it happen, a sweet, light kiss that had zero time to escalate to more.

Because suddenly, someone was tugging at his arm, hard enough to force Eddie's whole body back, nearly out of his chair. He blinked, more than a little startled to see Steve coming out of nowhere, clinging onto him with that stupid, gorgeous smile.

"Eddieeee," Steve whined, completely ignoring Andrew's presence, "Robin ditched me to make out with someone in the bathroom."

Eddie couldn't help but smile a little bit, despite the fact that he was definitely interrupting what was probably the first good thing about this night. He glanced over at Andrew, who was staring at them, wide-eyed before saying, "Uh, I didn't know you had a boyfriend."

"I don't-"

"I can't hear you in here," Steve loudly interrupted, looking adorably confused, "Come outside with me?"

If Eddie was smart, he would have gently pried Steve's hands off him before sending him off to find Robin. But...a drunk Steve was also a very cute and cuddly one. So fuck it, Eddie could find a rebound for his non-existent relationship next weekend.

He shrugged at Andrew, mouthing a quick apology at him before Steve started to drag him outside through the back door. Eddie half expected Steve to do his usual routine when he was toasted. Sweetly asking for a piggy back ride that Eddie literally could never refuse before falling asleep on his back. Then he'd get him in the car, wrangle Robin from wherever the hell she was, and they'd be off.

But the second they were stepping outside Steve was straightening up and stepping back, to Eddie's immediate confusion. He leaned against the wall, glaring at Eddie in a way he had never seen. Or at least directed at him.

"So," Steve started, his tone way too close to how he sounded when one of the kids pissed him off, "Who was that guy? You looked pretty cozy in there."

Eddie's brain was still struggling to catch up to the change in atmosphere here. But he tried to answer anyway, "I mean we were but-wait. Why are you not drunk? You were literally just-"

"It's called acting dipshit," Steve mumbled, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Which ow, rude. But his next words hurt even more, "Not like I have a choice, since you only seem to like me when I'm fucked up."

Eddie could feel his heart stop in his chest. He didn't-oh no. Oh god. Steve figured out he was a creep. A creep who was probably moments away from getting his ass handed to him.

Eddie swallowed, at a loss for what to say. But he still tried, "I-look dude it's um, it's not like that. I didn't- I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable-"

"Then why the fuck would you kiss another guy right in front of me?"

Okay. That was enough of that. Yes, Steve could be mad about him being creepy, but no he couldn't be mad over having to bear witness for a gay kiss at a gay bar, "Well if I had known that you were apparently only okay with seeing girls kiss each other I wouldn't have come out tonight at all! Honestly Steve, how can you even say that? Like that is some real dumbass levels of homophobia, even for you. I thought the King Steve thing had died-"

"Shut the fuck up oh my god," Steve hissed out, "Are you really that damn dense? That's what you think I'm upset about? Are you fucking kidding me? And I'm the dumbass?"

"Then why are you mad?" Eddie half asked, half yelled.

“I’m not mad," Steve seethed, like he didn't look about five seconds away from choking Eddie out, "I...I just think you can choose better people to kiss.”

Maybe he really was drunk after all. Because now he wasn't making any damn sense.

Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose, beyond frustrated, "Who Steve? Like, I'm sorry to break this to you but not all of us can fucking look like you do alright? We're not all charming, golden Adonis basketball players okay? And sometimes you need to take what you can get. And there was nothing wrong with Andrew-"

"You think I look like a golden Adonis?" Steve interrupted, a weird expression on his face. He looked almost...hopeful? But that didn't make any sense.

"That's what you got out of that?" Eddie asked, exasperated, "I-come one dude. You know you're hot. But that's not my point."

"Well it's mine!" Steve groaned. He was biting his lips, a very distracting nervous habit that Eddie had picked up on, "Because what the fuck are we even doing? You think I'm so hot, so charming, so great, and you decide to kiss someone else in front of me? What the fuck is that? Do you like seeing me jealous? Do you get off on me pining? Please explain."

You see, that was the funny thing about Eddie's brain. One second he was lost, staring at Steve's red, bitten lips, and the next he was desperately trying to catch up with what just came out of his mouth. All of it the perfect blend to effectively shut his brain off completely.

Eddie stared at him, his words as dumb as how his face probably looked, "I-what? Huh?"

Steve narrowed his eyes at him, "Are we really doing this? Are you going to pretend like it's all in my head?"

"I-no. I just-please explain," Eddie is pretty damn sure he had never stuttered through a sentence that hard in his life.

"I've been coming on to you for months and you just keep giving me all of these mixed signals and..." Steve sighed, looking away, "I'm so sick of it Eddie. If you don't like me just say that! Stop whatever this is. Because it's mean and you know it. If you want a better option then just take it already and leave me alone."

He-what-that didn't even- Steve was straight, wasn't he? And now the stuttering had invaded his thoughts. Because if he actually understood all of that then...

He was the biggest idiot on the planet.

And his stunned silence was not helping anything.

Steve sighed, pushing himself away from the wall. He turned away, "I'm going to find Robin. We can just...act like this didn't happen I guess. I'm done."

Eddie had to give himself on thing, at least his body was working a lot faster than his brain. Steve barely had time to take a single step away before he was shooting his hand out to grab his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

"I didn't know you were an option!" Eddie blurted out, his heart hammering in his chest, "I-Stevie I thought all of it was in my head. I-I thought that you were straight and we were just hanging out-"

"You think I sit in the laps of my other guy friends?" Steve asked, completely unimpressed, "While playing with their hair and calling them beautiful? Really, dude?"

Eddie nodded, sure and fast, "Steve, I had to do my senior year three damn times. I'm not always the smartest okay? And in my defense you never mentioned like dudes-"

"Yes I have," Steve interrupted, "When you came out to me, I told you to your face that I understand. That I could relate about hiding things and not talking about it. I literally said we were in the same boat. What else could that mean?"

Eddie remembered that, crystal clear. But..."I thought you were talking about PTSD, not secretly being into dudes."

"One dude," Steve corrected, but he was relaxing a little, thank fuck. Maybe Eddie could still fix this.

He took a deep breath, using his hold on Steve's wrist to pull him closer. His hands were fucking shaking, bad enough for Steve to almost certainly notice when he rested them on his hips.

This was it, he might as well be as clear as humanly possible, "I am so into you. Like a scary amount. Like I'm...borderline in love with you."

He was completely in love with him, but he didn't have the balls to say that bit out loud. He kept going, "And I didn't know you felt the same way. At all. Like I am dangerously close to having a stroke from hearing all of that. You kind of flipped my world upside down there."

Steve huffed out a laugh. Eddie may have fucked up everything leading up to this point, but Steve was eating his little speech right up. He shuffled a little closer, wrapping his arms around Eddie's neck with a small smile, "Keep going."

"I thought that I had no chance. I mean even tonight, people couldn't stop looking at you. And you got those numbers-"

"I threw them away," Steve interrupted, "You missed that part."

He had definitely missed that part, too caught up in his own head. But that didn't stop a smile from breaking out on Eddie's face, "Good. Because if you want me, you have me. I'm all yours, in any way you want me. Understand? Fuck, Stevie if I had known any of this we'd be the ones making out in the bathroom right now. And I'm sorry about..."

For the life of him Eddie couldn't remember his name, not when he had Steve smiling at him in his arms, "The other guy. But it literally means nothing to me. Not if I get to have you. Do...do I get to have you?"

Steve hummed, pretending to think about it while he played with a lock of Eddie's hair, "I guess that depends. Is making out in the bathroom still on the table?"

"Fuck yes it is."

Steve grinned, leaning up to press the sweetest little kiss to the side of Eddie's mouth, "Then I guess you have me then."

[dear-satan]

take care of me

virgin!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!Reader summary: Leon relives his first time with you warning: sexual content, love marks, oral (male receiving), dominant reader, Leon re2

You had been dating Leon for six months and your relationship blossomed day by day. Despite your short tenure, you got along really well, actually acting as one organism. He was the perfect boyfriend and you did your best to be the perfect girlfriend for him, although one issue had been bothering you for some time.

Proximity to another person was a need for every human being, so it was no surprise that you needed Leon's touch on your skin. Kisses, caresses were not unfamiliar to you, however, you craved something more as time went on, which you sometimes let Leon know about. And his behavior really shocked and slightly worried you. Whenever you tried to initiate a rapprochement Leon would go all numb, excusing himself with a headache, fatigue after a hard day at the police academy or other really abstract excuses. At first you pounced on this, believing him to be unwell, but eventually you began to wonder about the real reason for his reluctance to have sex with you. After all, every day he told you how beautiful you were and how much he loved you, so without any prompting you decided to ask him about it.

"Virgin." you repeated after him. You were sitting on the bed in your bedroom. Leon sat across from you, in his T-shirt and boxers carefully watching your reaction to what he thought was an embarrassing confession.

"I... I wanted to tell you earlier honey, I really did," a blush flooded his face from second to second "But I had a feeling that.... It would change something between us..." he said the second part of the sentence much more quietly.

You looked at him. His head was lowered as if he wanted to protect himself from your appraising gaze, to which you only smiled slightly. You reduced the distance between you, placing your hand on his warm cheek making him look at you with those beautiful blue eyes. "It doesn't change anything, silly." your sweet smile melted his heart.

Leon leaned in joining your lips in a passionate kiss and his hands went to the sides of your waist. He tilted you so that you were lying on his chest. Your thighs rubbed against his half-hard penis deepening the blush on his face. You were perfect, just as he had dreamed.

A thread of saliva was hanging from your lips when you finally pulled away from each other. You could feel his arousal and your pussy was clamoring for attention, but you waited for any sign from Leon to go a step further than you always had. "Will you let me take care of it?" your hand grasped his still boxer-clad cock.

Leon only sent you an excited look expressing one hundred percent agreement. He helped you to get rid of his T-shirt as if hypnotized you stared at his naked torso, even though you had seen him hundreds of times before. You began to slowly place kisses on his heated skin, savoring the sounds he made.... God, he sounded so sweet and innocent, and this was just the beginning.

You reached the line of his boxers from under which the head of his cock protruded. The pre-cum oozing from it formed a sizable stain on his lower abdomen. In one motion you slid down his white boxers freeing his penis entirely and your eyes shone at the sight. "Such a pretty boy."

"B-baby wai-" a moan broke out of his mouth as you licked all over him to then put him in your mouth. You wanted to take Leon to heaven, and even further, so that he would remember this moment for the rest of his life. Your tongue caressed his head while you pumped him slowly. Your other hand gently massaged his balls. His moans filled the room and his hands tightened on the bed sheets, refusing to pull your hair. "G-God... I c-comming..." he arched his back however you interrupted your activities.

"Not yet" you kissed his tip one last time. You climbed on top of him getting rid of your T-shirt in the meantime and Leon became still at the sight of your hard nipples. You sat on his cock whose warmth caressed your wet pussy through the material of your panties. You wanted to wait for moments so that he would normalize his breathing and not come too quickly.

"You look so beautiful," he groaned, lifting himself up. He put his arms around your waist and his lips caressed the skin of your neck gently, biting and sucking on it every so often, leaving red marks. "So beautiful and only mine."

You, unable to restrain yourself, raised your hips slightly, tilting back the material of your panties. You grabbed his cock so that its head caressed your hole in order to plunge it into you in one smooth motion. Leon's body trembled and his moan was smothered against your skin. He felt amazing, completely different from when he satisfied himself with his hand. He began to regret delaying it for so long.... Damn, if only he knew how pleasant your pussy would be he would have given himself to you long ago. "So good." He cooed into your cleavage trembling slightly. You only smiled, kissing the top of his head. You began to move your hips slowly, gloating at your desired closeness with Leon. Your moans filled the room along with the sounds of your bodies colliding. His cock fit you perfectly.

"Love y-you Lee" you moaned into his hair as his thrusts grew dull. You felt your orgasm approaching and the sounds he made only chilled you to the brink. "I-I'm so c-close."

"C-come for m-me, baby," he managed with a gasp. He breathed loudly into your skin feeling his orgasm approaching. He wanted to slow down, to gloat over this moment for eternity, but ecstasy and the urge to cum inside you completely took his mind off it. He pounded into you one last time, hugging you tightly as the hot cum spilled inside you triggering your own orgasm. Your walls tightened around Leon's cock, milking him to the very end. This was something you had been dreaming about for a very long time and it was finally becoming a reality.

You both fell on the bed greedily taking air into your lungs. Your fingernails gently scratched Leon's sweat-wet skin. You were proud of him, and you knew that from now on your relationship had jumped onto a whole new and better track.

[luveline]

Hey Jade! Could I request some more kisses before dinner au? Steve and reader both have a bad day (Reader with her pregnancy and steve is just overwhelmed with looking after everone?) and they have a fight in the evening before, during or after dinner. The girls get a little upset and make a plan to get the two talking again and to make up and the night ends with a big cuddle. Thank you, love you and your work, you're actually so beautiful! Xx

HI!! thank you so much angel, I hope this is OK!! ♥ dad!steve x pregnant!reader, 3k.

You said we could do this. 

Steve thinks about that line most of all. Your argument blurred into one big glob of anger, wanting to be right and silly grievances, fatigue. The only thing that stuck out was your upset face as you'd sniffled and murmured, "You said we could do this," like Steve had let you down. 

Steve regrets arguing with you, but what he hates most is having lost his cool in front of the girls. He resents himself for it as much as he does you, and he's finding it difficult to let any of it go. 

It's Avery who's claimed his lap, while Bethie and Dove lean on either side of you, Dove's face against the bump of your stomach like a pillow. Steve strokes hair out of his eldest daughter's face one silky strand at a time. He knows the girls aren't used to fighting, Steve grew up seeing it, and he didn't want his kids to see it because he knows it creates a strange and sometimes suffocating anxiety, so you and he have always argued in private when you could. 

You're very pregnant (exhausted, hormonal, going through huge changes) and Steve is trying to do a lot more to account for that (similarly exhausted, and wondering if perhaps he has sympathy hormones). The baby bump means you can't and shouldn't be doing as much. You've worked your entire pregnancy, through two trimesters of intense morning sickness, and the third and last trimester offered a reprieve from that and nothing else. 

As your uterus moves and your bump drops to make room for the last hurdle of the baby's growth, you can hardly breathe. You're always aching. Steve insists you take it easy and even if he didn't insist it's not exactly a conscious decision either of you van make. Being kind to yourself is being kind to the baby, and you're the best mom in the world —you're slowing down whether anyone likes it or not. 

Worse, your Braxton Hicks have started. They come at irregular times and never last long, but each time prompts the am I going into labour early? panic. It's not fair, Steve wishes he could take it from you, and he doesn't want you to do more than you can, but he needs a little more room to breathe, and some forgiveness. 

Because Steve did assure you that you could do this. You wouldn't have agreed to another baby if you didn't think it yourself, neither of you being that irresponsible. Lots of things come before wanting. Steve wants a big family, he could cry every time he looks at you lately and the unignorable evidence of another family member to love and cherish that is your distended stomach, but he loves the one he has now. Before you even thought about trying for your fourth, you had to know it wouldn't hurt your first three, or each other. 

Steve knows you can do this. He can do it. Today was just a bad day, and he needs your faith in him, or this is never going to work. 

Steve wants to say that to you, now he's had time to think. I'm sorry I let you down, but I need you to forgive me, and I need you to trust me that we can do it. He also wants to say Thanks for being a dick about Beth's doctor's appointment, obviously I forgot to take her on purpose, I just don't like her. He decides he hasn't calmed down enough to talk to you yet. He's mad at you but he fucking loves you, he doesn't want to hurt your feelings anymore than he already has. 

Avery kisses Steve's cheek unexpectedly, snapping him from a reverie of racing thoughts. He meets her gaze to ask what she wants, but she's swift to slide down the lengths of his legs and onto the floor. 

"Bethie," she says, meandering to where her sister sits, hands catching on Bethie's bare knees, "do you want to come and colour in with me?" 

"Why don't you bring your colours down here?" you ask. 

"I don't want to carry the table," Avery says, referring to the green and purple picnic bench she has in her room. She can't carry it, even though it's only small. She's smaller. 

"I can grab it for you, Ave," Steve says. 

"That's okay, daddy, you're tired. Please, Bethie? I need your help staying in the lines." 

Bethie raises her eyebrows. Reluctant, she climbs off of the sofa and Avery takes her hands. Steve can hear them whispering as they reach the stairs, their creaking steps covering words but not sounds. 

Steve usually puts his life into perspective quite easily. He doesn't often get angry, having had the privilege to choose pretty much every aspect that's worth agonising over. He was lucky enough to love you, and to have you love him back. He was lucky enough to have a say when you got pregnant accidentally the first time, and beyond privileged to be able to ask again, and to have you yes, to want to say yes to the second, the third, the fourth. 

He doesn't get angry at you much. When you're mean, of course, when you fall for the same weaknesses he might. A short temper, a mistimed snark. He was really mad at you a few years ago when you burned your arm on a pan he told you multiple times was hot. He was so mad he couldn't speak not that long ago when you assured him you could clean the hot sauce off of his first Hellfire shirt with a lemon and ended up bleaching the black sleeve a mottled brown. But you were cleaning his shirt because you loved him. You burnt yourself trying to help him clean your shared kitchen. All these things he's angry about, they're mistakes, or they're moments of weakness in a long receipt of kindness, and sweetness. Plus, you're the prettiest woman he's ever met, you're prettier every day. That deserves something, he thinks. Reverence, patience, anything you need if it means he gets to keep being with you, gets to keep having these stupid fights. 

And there it is. The anger wears away. Steve remembers how much he loves you (which hadn't been in doubt, the love part, but the volume —when he's mad, he loves you astronomically, and when he isn't, he loves you so much they haven't made a word for it). He wants to say sorry and have you say it back. You'll kiss him and let him hold you, his hand over your tummy, and hopefully you'll admit to understanding where he's coming from. If he's really lucky, you'll let him massage your shoulders, or hold the bump up to take the weight off. 

"Dove!" Bethie shouts from the top of the stairs. "Dove, come and help, please? We need another hand for the drawing!"

Dove perks up by your side. She slides off of the couch with little convincing, your fingers twisting a curl of her hair as she goes. 

"Have to help me," Dove says. Bethie sighs and begins down the stairs to fight the baby gate. 

Steve opens his mouth about the second they're both out of earshot again and you still beat him to it. 

"Baby brain made me act like a bitch. Sorry." 

"I knew it was baby brain and I still took the bait, so…" 

"You think I was baiting you?" you ask. 

"Not on purpose?" Steve rests his cheek across the top of the couch, fake leather cool on his skin. "You had a real reason to be mad at me. I said you didn't have to take her and then I let you down." 

"You didn't let me down," you say.

"And you're not a bitch," he says,

"I feel really embarrassed after we argue. Maybe you make me feel that way," you say, looking down at your hands, "but I don't think so. I wish you wouldn't get so mad with me." 

"I wish I didn't, either." 

"Not that we don't both get angry."

"I know what you meant." The conversation is stilted and jagged and frankly painful to manoeuvre. "Do I really make you feel embarrassed?" he asks. 

"No," you say. "I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm trying to say. This part never gets any easier." 

"But we'll keep doing it?" 

You put both hands over your bump and give him a long, serious look. "Yeah." 

Steve shuffles closer to you on the couch and tries to land you both on the same page. "What did you mean by that? That I make you feel embarrassed after we fight? I'm not mad, I just don't get it." 

You offer your hand as though you're afraid he'll reject it, pinky finger bumping his where it rests on his thigh. Steve takes it gently. 

"Stevie, sometimes, you get really mad when we fight and I– I don't blame you because I know why you get mad like that, and you've never been cruel to me for the sake of it, you aren't cruel. You've never hurt me just being angry. You've said stuff to me that hurt my feelings–" 

"I've never hurt you for no reason," he says, worried, hoping you'll agree. 

"Of course not. Steve, you've barely hurt me. But I… I think I feel embarrassed after we fight 'cos I can't stand thinking you had that much disdain for me." You squeeze his fingers. "Even for a minute. Which isn't your fault, that's how being angry works. You get so annoyed at someone that you lose it."

"I don't hate you, though," he murmurs. "You really think I have disdain for you? 'Cos I don't, honey. Not for a millisecond. That's not what it'd be about." He can't believe he's loved you this long and this is the first he's hearing about this feeling in particular. "When we were fighting earlier, I wasn't thinking about how awful you are or anything like that." 

"What were you thinking?" you ask hesitantly. 

"That I wish you'd see my side." It comes out in a rush, a sigh, his hand sliding up your wrist. "I just wanted you to see my fucking side for once."

"Are you kidding?" you say. 

He backtracks. "Sorry, not for once. That wasn't fair. It's what I was thinking, though" 

Much less insulted by his thoughts at the time of a blow up argument than the notion that he thought you were refusing to see his side after you literally asked him to tell you his side a second before, you relax. Or, you sag, and your brows pull together in pain, free hand moving to your chest. 

Steve sidles in as close to your side as he can get and covers your hand with his. "You okay?' he asks softly. 

"I'm fine. Tell me your side."

"I'm sorry for upsetting you," he says honestly. "But I need you to cut me some slack. I know you're having a really hard time right now, and I know you know I'm trying to make it work just as much as you are. Is that okay?"

You take his hand from your chest and put it over your baby bump. He could weep with relief. 

"That's okay. I really am sorry, Steve, I know I took it too far." 

"Well, I got angry twice. I wish you'd told me how you felt about it, you know? I would've told you a long time ago that I– I love you even when you're pissing me off. You don't have to feel embarrassed thinking you've lost my respect or something." 

"I know it doesn't make sense," you say. 

"But if that's how you feel," he says. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I just want us to be okay again. 

"We're okay again," you say, staring at him for a few long, slow seconds. "I love you." 

"That's the best one, right? After we fight? I love you, too," he says, hand slipping under your shirt. He'd do it if you weren't pregnant, but now you are he does it for a different reason, feeling along your ballooned tummy for something in particular. "Has she been kicking today?" 

"Only every time you talk," you say, beaming, knowing how special that is. You move his hand to the very top of your bump. "Feels like she's inside my lungs. Would you…" 

Steve grins and leans down. You pull the hair from his eyes, holding him to your chest. "Listen, lovely girl. You gotta give your mom a break, go back to sitting on her bladder for a bit. The only person who should be making her breathless is me." 

"Corny," you say, scratching his hair. 

Steve puts his ear to your stomach. She won't talk back, and he can't hear much, but he tricks himself into thinking your weird stomach gurgling is the baby speaking. 

"No," Avery says, much closer than Steve thought she was, the troupe of them having made their way downstairs while Steve was busy laying on your stomach. "This will work, Beth."

"I don't want them to be angry," Bethie says. 

"They won't be angry with us. Mom doesn't get mad, she gets disappointed, and dad only shouts when I den-danger my safety." 

You snort and Steve tries uselessly to cover your mouth. "It's a make up plan," you whisper. 

"Oh. We have to still be fighting, then," Steve says. He springs up, gives you a very tender if he says so himself kiss to your cheek, and crawls back to his empty seat. 

"Let's go," Dove insists, prancing through the open door. 

You and Steve try to look dreadfully morose. 

"Daddy," Avery says, "Mommy, we made you something to say thanks for being the best dad and mom's ever made."

"You did?" you ask. 

"And to stop worrying," Bethie says, drifting toward Steve on automatic. 

"My loves," you begin. Steve knows what you'll say —We're sorry. 

"Just listen!" Avery insists. "You're the bestest ever, and we have the new baby coming and we'll have to take new photos but we can't because she's still getting bigger, so we drew one." 

"Baby photos always make you happy," Beth says.

It's a family portrait on a jagged edged, five feet long piece of paper from one of their paper rolls. You're all very tall and there have been efforts to make each person individual. Steve stands out as the only one with shorts and no eyelashes. Your baby bump has been drawn like you're carrying Pluto around in your abdomen, and Dove is quite small in comparison. Avery has drawn herself to Steve's left, and Bethie stands to hers. It's the most impressive thing Steve has ever seen. 

"Oh, wow," he says. 

"Woah," you agree. 

"This is me," Dove says, pointing at herself. 

"That's me," Bethie says, almost dropping her corner of the portrait.

"And there's me and dad and mom and baby," Avery says, pointing at each figure, her arm blocking the crayon hair. "We're the biggest family ever." 

"And the best," Bethie says.

"Best," Dove agrees. 

If things hadn't been okay between you and Steve before, they are now. In an instant. The girls have presented you with evidence of his very greatest achievements. 

"How much do you think it would cost to get that framed?" he asks you. 

Your laugh jumps from you as though it had a mind of its own, loving and exhausted, fond. Unsurprised. 

"Couple hundred bucks," you say, hand cupping the bottom of your stomach. 

"We have that, right? To spare?" 

You absolutely don't. Steve says it to make you laugh again, only half joking, and is rewarded by your happy smile. You shuffle down the couch into his arms and he wraps you up without closing his arms, hands extended to the girls where they hesitate. 

"Come on," he says, waving his hand toward your back, "this mom sandwich is missing at least three pieces of bread." 

Avery cheers and sprints into his reach. Beth and Dove aren't far behind. 

—

kisses before dinner au

[viviennevermillion]

ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ꜱᴄᴀʀ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʏᴏᴜɴɢ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ, ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍʏ ʜᴀɴᴅ...

❝ I was made for loving you, even though we may be hopeless hearts just passing through; every bone screaming, I don't know what we should do ❞ — tori kelly

prompt: affection they crave but don't dare to ask for

character included: ei, wanderer, pantalone, baizhu

contains: character x gn!reader, established relationship

warnings: descriptions of suffering and chronic illness in baizhu's part

✧ holding your hand — Ei is touch starved after the centuries she has spent locking herself away in the Plane of Euthymia. She's used to people respecting her and even fearing her, but few actually treat her as an equal. How could they after all? She was an archon and she had ruled Inazuma with an iron fist for quite a while. So something as simple as you taking her hand into yours just as she remembers her friends doing ages ago.... it's hardly something self-evident to her. She has a lot to learn about how the world has changed during her absence. Sometimes she may be confused or have this serious, slightly intimidating look on her face. Nothing better in this moment than her beloved taking her hand, which instantly brings a smile to her face. Ei doesn't ask you to hold her hand, she doesn't want to come off as clingy, but everytime the two of you are out on a date she's silently hoping you'll do this small gesture again that makes her heart skip a beat.

✧ leaning your forehead against hers — Even an archon like the Raiden Shogun is not without troubles. Quite on the contrary, Ei has a lot of them after all that has happened. When her doubts and grief creep up on her, a gesture such as leaning your forehead against hers is like a silent promise to her that you'll be there even as the storm rages on in her mind. Your touch is soothing to her restless soul and as she feels your kindness and the extent of your love, she understands what it means to find her beloved eternity in something as simple as a fleeting moment with you.

✧ kissing her neck — Ei, when she appears in public, represents eternity both as an archon and a person. She's solid and radiates an aura of untouchability. Who could have thought that someone as her was incredibly ticklish? She likes the sensation of your lips against her neck, but it also tickles her sensitive skin, so you can hear a giggle escaping her that you might not have heard otherwise. If you're planning to tease her and fool around, a giggle might turn into a hearty laugh. You'd be sure to earn the respect of Inazuma's citizens if they were to learn that you could draw a laugh like that out of the woman who once watched these lands with such a cold gaze.

✧ letting her rest her head on your shoulder — Ei doesn't technically need to sleep. But the duties of the Shogun can be quite taxing. As such, she appreciates the opportunity to wind down in your presence and take some deep breaths after a stressful day. You can always tell when she's tired. She tends to close her eyes and let the cool wind hit her face. If you offer her to rest her head on your shoulder, she'll happily take you up on it. She'll keep her eyes shut, enjoying the closeness to you as she mumbles a quiet "thank you". She loves to sit idly like this for a while, simply relishing in the love you give her each day.

✧ sharing things with her — There's just something so intimate about doing things together and sharing what you enjoy with each other. At first, Ei found the idea of sharing a can of dango milk with two straws or an ice cream cup a little silly, not understanding how it could be any different from each of you getting your own food and drinks, but after trying it she really felt like she bonded with you over it.

✧ letting him sit on your lap — This is something he would never ask for over his dead body unless you tease the hell out of him repeatedly but he's been thinking about it ever since getting together with you. He's all too familiar with bickering and pushing you away, even when he doesn't want to; because he's scared of what would become of him; were he to face another devastating betrayal. He craves your affection but he spends his days waiting.... yearning for it. For how foolish would it look if you were to mock him and abandon him for craving something as cheesy and human as this? So he pushes down his feelings and just settles for whatever affection you decide to give him. Until one day there's no seating spot left for him and you grab his waist, gently pulling him onto your lap. You had no idea up to that point that your lover was capable of blushing. But he's silent and doesn't dare to move, lest you might push him off with a joking comment. As you pull him closer to your chest, he relaxes into your embrace and closes his eyes. Your lips find the soft skin of his neck and place a couple of appreciative kisses on it. Wanderer lets out a relaxed sigh and turns his head to you to press a kiss to your lips. "You seem to enjoy this", you remarked with a smile on your face. "I'm simply making sure you don't cry about not getting enough affection later. That'd be a bother", he huffs and you can't help but let out a chuckle, knowing him well enough by now to see through his facade. You make a note to do this more often.

✧ playing with his hair — This one is in your favor because he has really, really soft hair. You don't even remember when it happened but at some point, laying his head in your lap and letting you card your fingers through the dark strands has become his way of unwinding after a long day. He loved the experience of finally feeling safe and cared for in someone else's presence after he had been surrounded by people he was more than justified to distrust for the past centuries. Your touch was soothing, like a gentle breeze inviting him to a place far away from his troubles and doubts. Never did Wanderer believe that anything in his life could be considered "a blessing from the gods", but with you? Well, he wouldn't be surprised. Or maybe it was simply what you were like; giving your love to him in this often cold and cruel world without expecting anything in return; your care for him blossoming and persisting in this reality despite all odds.

✧ squeezing his thigh — He loves when you do this, whether it be when you have to get up and leave to attend some business or whether it's in reassurance; despite how he'd claim that he doesn't need your support and encouragement about anything. He'd feel much more lost without it. He also enjoys simply having you rest your hand on his thigh while you're sitting idly on the couch or a picnic blanket, each of you tending to your own matters and interests but always enjoying being together like this. It reminds him that you're there, something he needs when the thoughts of his past and the uncertainty about his future start to creep up on him.

✧ kissing his shoulders — He's very weak for this. He has no idea what the point was; for a puppet to have any sensitive spots. Wouldn't he have been more efficient if he could feel no affection or pain? After all, wouldn't life have been less hurtful like this? But in those moments; feeling your lips trail soft kisses along his shoulders; he was, for the first time, glad that he was like that. He closes his eyes and focuses solely on the pleasant tickle your pecks left on his skin.

✧ holding him in your arms — Pantalone may seem like a cold and serious business man on the outside, but he can't fool his beloved. That man is a hopeless romantic once you get him to trust you and he's clingy as hell. He's a little spoon and he loves when you hold him in your arms after a long day of work that you sometimes even have to coax him away from. He'll rest his head against your chest as you do him the favor of gently removing his glasses that he forgot he even still had on because of how tired he was. He lets out a happy sigh as you run your fingers through his dark locks and press a kiss to his forehead. He may not ask you to do this, but he always makes sure to express his gratitude to you for the love you give him. "Thank you for always taking care of me like this, my dearest", he mumbles and nuzzles your neck, "and getting me to sleep on time... I had no idea it was already midnight." He let out of chuckle and you shake your head with a disappointed sigh. Not a week went by where you didn't find him nodding off at his desk at least once; struggling to keep his eyes open and accidentally misspelling or repeating words on the report drafts he made. "You need to take some more time off", you whisper, gently caressing his cheeks. "The work of a Fatui Harbinger is tedious", he simply states. But if you could convince him to take breaks and get enough rest with your love and affection? Well, that was enough for now.

✧ listing the reasons you love him — This is something he needs from time to time. He vividly remembers his youth where he used to search for coins in the streets to buy himself a meal and was politely told to exit restaurants as his shabby looks might have a negative impact on the establishments' reputation if wealthy customers saw him like this, sitting alone at the table with half a meal because that was all he could afford. His popularity and desirability skyrocketed when he became a wealthy business man and the 9th harbinger. What could you love about him, if not his material possessions? There are moment, especially in the beginning of the relationship, where nothing helps him get over his doubts more than you holding him close and reminding him of how beautiful he was in your eyes; how you'd love him with every fiber of your being even if he had not a single coin to spare. That you adored how thoughtful, intelligent, ambitious and passionate he was. You loved the light-hearted moments in which Pantalone would joke around with you and attempt to tease you; as well as the quiet nights where he just couldn't help but to kiss you over and over again because his love for you was too much to just keep in his heart. You felt the same. That's why you let him know how much he means to you and all the little things you've grown to love about him.

✧ shoulder massages — He needs those because he has so much muscle tension, you weren't sure how his back didn't hurt every minute of the day. There's few things Pantalone appreciates more than having you massage his shoulders and help his muscles relax when he pulls what you had come to refer to as another "desk work marathon". Again, he doesn't ask for this but he makes sure to thank you, interrupting his work for a moment to give you a loving kiss and look into your eyes as he tells you that he loves you.

✧ holding his hand when he's sick — We all know Baizhu has some days where his ailment gets so bad that he has to stay in bed and can't go to work. It took him a long, long time to even let you see him during those moments of weakness. Usually he'd just lock himself in his bedroom with only Changsheng for company as he tried to get through his pain on his own. After all, to him, it seemed as though it probably would be burden enough for you to love a man you knew was slowly dying. You didn't need to see him suffer like this. Only after you insisted several times that you want to be there for him when he has a bad day; that it would worry you way less if you could support him and comfort him; he let you in. Baizhu feels bad for relying on your help when he's in this state, but simultaneously your presence soon becomes a remedy he wouldn't want to miss out on. When the pain makes his whole body sore and the dizziness and nausea makes him feel like he's never going to get up again and the temperature of his body feels as though the gods of cryo and pyro were having a brutal war in his quarters; there's also, through all the hurt, the feeling of your hand holding his. The sound of your voice reassuring him that he was going to be okay and that you were right there with him. "Just focus on my hand", you tell him with a gentle voice as you run your fingertips over his palm as you see him shiver in the bed next to you. "I'm sorry that-", he croaks out but you interrupt him. "There's nothing you need to apologize for, my love", you reassure him and press a kiss to his forehead.

✧ helping him during bad days — Similarly, it also takes Baizhu a while to warm up to the idea of letting you assist him when he's feeling sick; be it making him tea or soup, taking care of some of his documents or wrapping his calves in wet cloths to help with the fever. You can only shake your head upon learning that he used to try and do these things himself while in this state. Changsheng is more than grateful that she doesn't have to fuss over the doctor as much as she used to now that you're here. Despite his initial protests, Baizhu has to admit that getting through one of those days had become way easier with someone around who actually had arms. Changsheng could try to ease his pain and comfort him with words but carrying a plate of soup was outside of the realm of possibility for the white snake.

✧ braiding his hair — As much as you love to see your lover with his hair down, there's many situations in his profession where a braid is more hygienic and comfortable to have. So he appreciates just being able to relax and talk with you about anything that crosses your minds while you braid his hair. If you keep commenting on how soft it is and how beautiful you think Baizhu is, you're sure to get a blush out of the physician. "You're adorable when you're flustered", you tease and Baizhu is glad that you're braiding his hair so he doesn't have to make eye contact with you. Oftentimes, doing this will have you press a kiss or two to his neck to remind him of your love for him while you tend to his long hair.

✧ deep and loving kisses — Baizhu loves when you take the initiative and just hold him in your arms while kissing him slowly and repeatedly. He appreciates to just be able to forget about his quest for immortality and his illness like this for a while, simply focusing on the feeling of your lips on his and your tongue circling around his, pouring all your love for him into the gesture and mumbling a quiet "I love you" in-between them. He knew very well that humans had a habit of living fast and the days going by faster than you'd think they would, so he adores just being able to indulge you and focus on your touch as if time had frozen for just a moment. He lets you pull him into another kiss as many times as you like to, simply grateful to be loved like this by someone he treasures as much as you.

[waddingham]

rebecca wants a pet

this is just a silly little ditty but here <3

Amongst all these things and more, he has learned that she does not do subtlety. Her opinions, thoughts, wants are shared unflinchingly, in a way he admires as someone who tends towards pleasing others over himself. She doesn't demand and criticize but simply shares herself with him – her opinion is always a prompt to hear his, her thoughts are little hands reaching out to know and be known by him, her wants passed along in hopes of him wanting too. And she makes it easy to respond in kind.

There's probably half a million things he's learned about Rebecca Welton in the first year of living with her. Big things and small things – she can destroy a bowl of berries and nuts in a matter of seconds. She has an almost frightening ability to hold her alcohol. She does a tiny bit of yoga everyday and those minutes of solitude are important to her. She loves him voraciously, would do just about anything for anyone in her club, and doesn't believe she will ever uncomplicate her relationship with her mother.

And because she so rarely employs subtlety, he doesn't think it's anything notable at all when she finds a new minor interest. 

"Look at this."

He turns his eyes from the TV to her, stretching an arm along the cushion as she scoots closer along the couch. She angles her phone so he can see – it's a video of a tabby cat with a mouthful of leaves, chirping as it crosses someone's yard. He grins at it, chuckling as it drops them and sits with satisfaction next to its contribution.

"She brings them a little pile of leaves everyday," Rebecca chuckles.

"Look at her go. Doin' her part."

"She's a good girl."

"Lot better than a mouthful of mice," he remarks.

She gives him a horrified look. 

"What?" he chuckles. "You never had a cat?"

"No," she says, shaking her head. "Have you?"

"There was an outdoor cat when I was growing up that hung around our house. My mom hated it 'cause she's scared to death of mice and loves the birds and he would come around with either one or the other dead in his mouth and leave it. Tryin' to get on her good side, I guess." 

She stares at him. "That's disgusting."

He laughs a little bit, tilting his head. "Yeah. He brought a bird up on the stoop once, still movin', and Mama was so mad, she smacked the back of his head for him to drop it. And he did. And then another little bird came flutterin' out of his mouth and flew off."

She shakes her head, a smile pulling at her mouth. "You're full of shit."

"I am not," he laughs. "Saw it with my own eyes. He was a big fella."

She snorts, looking back down at her phone. She stays close, leaning against his side as she scrolls on. 

It takes him a while to take notice of the running theme. They send all kinds of silly stuff back and forth – videos and pictures and jokes. She sends him screenshots of funny tweets she sees, sometimes about him or the team, sometimes just random things she thinks will amuse him.

But suddenly there's a very large uptick in cat videos. 

×××

She blames Keeley. It's Keeley's fault entirely.

She doesn't know what possessed her friends, if it was the influence of Phoebe or what, but they've adopted a cat – a beautiful, lithe, sleek one that could nearly be taken for a tiny leopard for its coloring. She's a lively little thing, playful and talkative, but she seems to adore Rebecca. When she goes over, she spends the length of her visit circling her feet or pacing her lap on the couch, purring like a fiend, pushing her head into Rebecca's palm.

And, goddammit, Rebecca likes it. She likes watching her prance around, flopping around on the floor for attention, just in general being entertaining and sweet. 

She sees them everywhere now – or at least is really noticing them as she scrolls through social media, seeing Leslie's sons posting videos of their new kitten and Keeley and Roy's little minx chasing her tail and random strangers with unnaturally gorgeous felines. 

She hasn't any idea how Ted feels about getting a pet. And normally she'd just tell him, have all her arguments outlined, or just recklessly show up with one one day, but they have quite literally just settled into living together. She doesn't want him to say yes just because she wants it and then hate it and hate taking care of it – she wants him to want it too. So she's going a little more insidious. Or trying to, sending out feelers by sending him cats and seeing what he says. 

She's not having much luck. He will aww and ooh, but doesn't express any disdain or desire to get one. Which isn't helping her.

"Who's idea was the cat?" she asks Keeley. 

"I wanted a dog and Roy wanted a cat," she says, stroking Camilla's back as she arches on the couch next to her. "But we settled on her 'cause she's so cool and active and spirited, she's like a low maintenance dog."

Keeley gives her a little grin. "You want one, don't you?"

"I do," Rebecca admits, scratching Camilla's neck as she crosses to her. 

"You guys should get one then," Keeley says. "They're so easy."

"I haven't asked Ted what he thinks yet," she says. 

"Well, I don't think he would refuse you anything, first of all," she says, sipping her wine. "And also how cute would he be with kittens all over him?"

"Stop," she says, tilting her head. "Or I'll show up at home with a box of them tomorrow."

Keeley giggles. "I think he would like a cat. Or a dog, but I would guess you–"

"I do not want a dog," Rebecca says. That's a lot more mess, care, and maintenance to jump right into when she's never even had a pet.

She hopes he wouldn't rather have a dog.

She supposes she's going to just have to bring it up outright – he's not catching on and she's already tired of trying to be slick about it.

×××

"Hey," he calls out when he hears the front door open. He gets one in response as she comes in, kicking her shoes off. She's earlier than he expected – she usually lingers late into the evening when she goes over to Keeley and Roy's.

He looks up at her from his sprawl on the couch as she rounds the sofa and immediately plants a knee between him and the cushions, crawling up and laying over him.

"You weren't gone long," he remarks as she settles herself against him, his arm landing on her back, her head on his middle.

"No," she sighs. "I left when Roy got back from his sister's. Keeley seemed…eager to be alone with him."

He chuckles, pushing his hand through her hair. "Well, cheers to them."

She giggles a little bit, rubbing a hand along his side over his t-shirt. She relaxes against him – the loveliest blanket he's ever had the pleasure to be covered with.

"I like their kitty," she remarks and he smiles.

"She's a lil' firecracker," he says. "Cracks me up."

She rolls her head until her chin is planted on his chest to look up at him. Her eyes are a little wide, eyebrows tipped up. 

"Can we get one?"

His smile grows as he tilts his head. He never would've taken her for a pet person.

"Sure," he says. He likes cats.

She almost scoffs, closing her eyes. 

"Of course you're going to be that easy about it."

He chuckles. "Do you want me to argue with you about it?"

"No, but I thought it would take at least a little convincing," she says and he squints at her a little bit. 

"Is that why you keep sending me cat stuff?"

She does scoff then, rolling her eyes. "Yes."

"Why?" he laughs. "What do you think I have against cats?"

"I don't know," she says, laying her head back down in exasperation. 

And since when does she do sneaky?

He chuckles again, smoothing a hand over her hair. 

"We'd have to go get some stuff," he muses. "But I remember Higgins saying he can't go to the pet store on Saturdays 'cause the shelter sets up with a bunch of kitties and he knows he'll go home with one. We could go then. Get the stuff and peek at the cats." 

"I already have everything saved to order online," she mumbles and he laughs.

"You could've just said something, Rebecca."

"I was trying to sniff you out first," she says. "But you gave me nothing."

"I'm sorry," he chuckles. "What kinda kitty do you want?"

"A soft one. Sweet one. Not so crazy as Camilla."

"Alright," he says. "Kitten?"

"I would like a kitten, I think," she says, lifting her head again to look at him. "Start from scratch."

"Okay, then," he smiles. "Sounds like fun."

×××

He didn't know what he expected when she said she had stuff saved, but he really shouldn't be surprised. The things that arrive over the next couple days look like something straight out of a housecat's dreams. A water drinking fountain and several very soft beds, toys, dishes, food that now has a shelf in the fridge, and, good lord, the litter box.

He just laughs when she sets it on the kitchen island. 

"It's automatic," she says, then lifts her hands, defending herself. "Do you want to do it? Because I don't."

He reads the side of the box, still grinning. "It connects to the WiFi?!”

"Oh, stop," she says. "Like I was going to skimp out on this."

"How much did this cost you?" he asks, looking up with a grin. 

"What does that matter?" she says innocently.

"C’mon, tell me," he says. 

"No."

He looks in the shipping box, spying an invoice and snatching it before she can stop him. 

"Give me that–"

"Seven hundred pounds?!" he says, laughing. "Oh my God, Rebecca."

"Stop," she says, swiping the paper from him, smiling at his teasing. 

"You know it's gonna poop in it right?" 

"Exactly. And then neither of us has to touch it."

"Now I feel like we're not adopting a cat but selecting one lucky winner to come live a life of luxury and refinement."

She laughs, wrapping her arms around the box, giving him a haughty look. 

"If you'll excuse me. I have a cat shitter to set up."

He chuckles, watching her go, but following after a few minutes to help her. 

×××

"I was excited, but now I'm just sad," she remarks as they walk through the narrow room. 

"Yeah," he laments. "Now I feel like adopting a nice round dozen or two."

"I think we'll have to start with one," she says, taking another step, giving the next cat its due attention. "Hello. Aren't you lovely?"

They wander through at a slow pace, having been told the kittens they have are at the far end of the room, but she stops at every cage, offering her fingers and compliments to each kitty. 

They don't make it to the far end – he didn't really expect them to. 

"Oh," Rebecca says, coming to a complete stop at a cage. "Oh, look at you."

The cat inside is a pale gray that fades into white at its paws and nose with long fur – not the longest they've seen, but longer than the shorthairs – curled up in the little bed in the corner.

"Oh, he's pretty," Ted says, stepping closer.

"How do you know it's a he?" she remarks, sticking her fingers into the cage, greeting the kitty. "Hello."

It lifts its head, peering at them with lovely gray blue eyes. He sticks his own fingers in, watching the cat take an interest, standing and stretching.

"Oh," Rebecca says sadly, and he turns to her, finding her reading the information card hooked on the cage. 

"Hmm?"

"'My loving owner died and I had nowhere to go'," she reads aloud. "'I'm an affectionate, easygoing kitty that enjoys lots of lap time.'"

She turns to him with a frown, then to the cat as they both feel him rub himself along their fingers. Ted curls his fingers into his soft fur, turning back to Rebecca, finding her watching the kitty with a little heartbreak in her eyes. 

"I like him," she says.

"I thought you wanted a kitten," he reminds her softly.

She doesn't respond, watching the little guy push his head against her knuckles. He steps around her, trading spots to read the rest of the card for himself.

"He's already ten years old," he says, sliding a hand over her back. He doesn't have a problem with it – he wouldn't mind an older cat, but she seemed set on a baby.

"I know," she says slowly, like she's realizing she's pretty much made up her mind. "But I think he deserves a nice retirement."

He smiles at her, watching the kitty sit close enough for Rebecca to brush her finger over the soft fur at his chest, primly adjusting his big white paws in front of him before curling his tail around. He peers at them, then lets out a soft little mow that has both of them chuckling.

"See, you agree, don't you?" she says. "You're a little sweetheart, huh? I didn't even look to see what your name is."

Ted looks, having skimmed over it too, smiling at what he finds. "Arthur."

"Arthur?" Rebecca chuckles. 

"What a name, huh? Who picked up this little guy as a sweet little puffball of a kitten, looked at him on the most exciting day of his life and then gave him the most old man name possible? I'm so sorry, buddy."

"Oh, stop," she says, scratching at Arthur's chin as she reassures him. "I think it's a great name. And I don't think Theodore has any room to talk."

He laughs fully at that, hearing Rebecca chuckle with him. "Well, that's me told," he says, squeezing her side, pulling her attention as she turns. "Should we see if somebody will open his cage up so we can meet him?"

She nods, giving him a bright smile.

×××

Of course they brought old Art home. And it doesn't even take two days before they're both absolutely smitten. 

He's taken to following them around curiously, as well as flopping and rolling against the shag rug in the living room. He'd been absolutely riveted by the dining room, chirping and chattering at the birds through the windows – to their endless amusement – and surveying the backyard as if it were new domain he's claimed. 

He's just adorable. And quickly growing very comfortable here. 

Clearly.

"Well, he didn't take long to settle in, did he?" he remarks.

Rebecca's laid out on the couch with Arthur stretched along her front, his head nestled against her chest, paws stretched toward her chin. He can hear the little guy purring from where he stands at the end of the couch as she strokes his fur from ears to tail, grinning with pure delight.

"And he found the best spot already."

She chuckles, bending her knees to make room for him to sit. Arthur lifts his head, eyes opening at being jostled. 

"Oh, relax," she mutters. "We share with Ted, alright?"

She lays her legs over his thighs as he chuckles. 

"I see you're having no trouble bonding with our new resident," he says as his arms stretches along the back of the sofa.

"Of course not," she almost coos, rubbing at Arthur's cheek. "And don't think I didn't see you carrying him around like a baby yesterday."

"Oh, c'mon. He was lookin' up at me and making the saddest little noise. And you know what, I ain't even gonna pretend I wouldn't die for him already."

She chuckles, holding Arthur's little face as he just purrs and purrs. "You hear that? You have Ted's eternal devotion."

"Christ, he looks more in love with you than I am," he muses.

She laughs at that, glancing up at him. "I'm pretty sure he's very happy to not be in that cage anymore."

Arthur stands at the disturbance, stretching his back before he traverses Rebecca's body to see what Ted has going on. 

"I think you made a good choice, darlin'," he says to Rebecca as Arthur just stands on Ted's thighs, pressing up into his hand as he strokes him. 

"I love him," she mutters.

He smiles as Arthur throws himself against Ted's abdomen, rolling in his lap.

"Me too."

×××

When she steps into the bedroom, she just has to grin.

Ted's lounging on the bed, scrolling his phone with Arthur cradled in his arm against his chest, dead asleep.

It's almost hilarious to think about now – that she was uncertain if he'd enjoy having a cat. More than half the times she comes upon him in the house, he's either holding or talking to Arthur. He carries him around like a little prince and he just purrs like a madman.

Maybe they didn't end up with a box of kittens, but it's still unbelievably cute. And she hates to disturb it, but, right now, she's going to.

She crawls up onto the bed, leaning on an elbow next to him.

"What's going on here?" she asks, scratching the top of Arthur's head, startling him if his little mrrp is anything to go by.

"He needed snuggled apparently," Ted says as he drops his phone next to him. "And I think I make a pretty good bed if I do say so myself."

"I can confirm," she nods. "But he might have to go."

Ted frowns at her, stroking Arthur's side almost protectively. "He's fine here." 

"Okay, but what if I'm trying to have sex with you?" she asks, watching Ted's brows lift again. 

"Ah, well, I think you're a little late," he says, gesturing to the cat. "I think I'm otherwise engaged for the evening."

She gives him a flat look, getting a little grin back. 

"Arthur, buddy, I think you're in danger," he whispers to the cat, who has no reaction whatsoever. Ted shifts him to get him up and he just lifts his head and glares at him, dead weight against his chest.

"Oh, c'mon man, don't do this to me," Ted chuckles as Rebecca pantomimes looking at a watch. "Look at her. Be a little wingman here, huh?"

He's unenthused as Ted lifts him up and leans to put him on the floor. 

"There," he says, immediately rolling into her until she's on her back, grinning up at him. 

"I'm all yours," he mutters against her neck, his hands immediately bunching her shirt to get to her skin. "Though you might have to work out a schedule with the little man."

She snickers, pulling him down hard against her with a leg, sliding her hands against his back as she catches his lips with hers. She hums as he grinds against her, the little fever in her core telling her this probably isn't going to be especially leisurely–

They both freeze at the sound of the sheets rustling. They look towards the end of the bed, where Arthur's jumped back up, ears pinned back, feet braced against the duvet. Before either of them can say anything, he dives forward, chasing nothing, then does a fast loop before freezing again. 

She can't help but snort when he looks back at them, eyes wild before he does another circle, then gets distracted with licking his leg.

"What is he doing?" Ted chuckles, then startles when Arthur spins and leaps at his toes.

"Oh, Jesus, man!"

She barks out a laugh as he jerks his foot away and she's in stitches as Arthur chases after it before finally doing another loop, leaping off the bed and sprinting out the door. 

"What the hell–" Ted laughs, turning back to her as she catches her breath, pulling him against her again.

"He's not the forgiving kind apparently."

"Who wanted a cat again?" he asks, his grinning mouth falling to her jaw.

"I did," she laughs. "And it was so worth it."

[kesujo]

I Miss You

It was times like this Yoona was glad she worked out.

“Come on, just a little bit more…” Yoona said in a strained voice. Yuri, who was pressed against her, moaned.

“Hang in there, Yuri-ah,” Yoona urged her best friend and coworker.

After a few more seconds, the door burst open and in tumbled a drunk Yuri, half-carried half-dragged by a panting Yoona. “Here we are,” Yoona said, partially to Yuri but mostly to herself.

Yuri moaned again. “Are we there yet?”

“Yes, we’re there,” Yoona replied, stopping to catch her breath.

She took the chance to carefully remove each of their layers until both were left with one each. Yoona stopped to catch her breath again, bracing herself once more to pull Yuri along. “Just a few more steps…” Yoona said, speaking words of encouragement for Yuri.

After they finally got to Yoona’s bedroom, Yoona all but collapsed onto the bed with Yuri. “Ah … I told you not to challenge Sunny to that drinking contest,” Yoona said, scolding Yuri.

Yuri, who was laying peacefully on the bed next to Yoona, sighed in reply. “Well, that’s why I’m so lucky to have you,” she said, “you’re both strong, responsible, and beautiful.”

“That’s three things,” Yoona replied, chuckling.

It seemed to take a while for Yuri to process this, but when she did, she burst out giggling. “You’re right, I’m so silly … hehehe…”

Yuri’s voice trailed off at the end. After a few seconds, silence engulfed the room, prompting Yoona to turn her head to check on Yuri. However, when she did so, she discovered that Yuri’s eyes were already closed.

“Aish, at least put the blanket over yourself,” Yoona, who was previously lying next to Yuri, said. She got up off the bed and pulled the blanket out from under Yuri, turned her so that she was laying on the bed in the proper direction, and gently placed the blanket over her.

“Guess I’ll be sleeping in the living room … do I even have a spare blanket?” Yoona murmured to herself, walking to the kitchen.

After pouring a glass of water and finding her spare blanket, laying it on the couch in her living room, Yoona walked back to the bedroom and placed the glass of water on the nightstand next to the bed.

“Sleep well, Yuri,” Yoona whispered. However, when she stopped to look at her, she found herself mesmerized.

Yuri’s gently closed eyes, her slightly parted lips, her peaceful facial expression … her best friend really was beautiful, wasn’t she?

This wasn’t the first time she noticed, either. When Yoona first met Yuri at their company’s gym, she remembered thinking how such a beautiful person ended up at the company and not as an actress, model, or idol.

Yoona sat down on the edge of the bed, carefully studying Yuri’s features. “How did I ever come to know such a beautiful woman?” Yoona wondered out loud.

Her next actions weren’t intentional; it was like she had no control over her body. Yoona watched as she felt herself lean over slightly, reach out with her right hand, and tuck a strand of hair out of Yuri’s face.

What am I doing? Yoona thought to herself and retracted her hand. Normal friends don’t act like this.

Yuri had asked Yoona out four months after meeting each other, and Yoona said yes. However, almost a year later, they broke up because Yoona felt uncomfortable with how quickly Yuri wanted to take things.

Still, Yoona couldn’t deny that she sometimes wondered what it would be like if they were still a couple; she would be lying to herself if she said she never imagined what Yuri’s intimate touches felt.

“Yuri, I miss you,” Yoona said gently, still hovering over Yuri ever so slightly. “Sometimes, I wish I never left you.”

Suddenly, Yoona slipped.

She felt a warm, firm hand grab her wrist pull upwards, causing her to lose her balance and fall onto Yuri.

“Maybe we can pick up where we left off, then?” Yuri said, her soothing voice washing over Yoona’s ears.

“W-Wait, you’re awake? How much did you hear?” Yoona stammered, flustered.

“Enough to know that you want me,” Yuri replied, flinging the blanket off her body and pulling Yoona underneath her in one swift, fluid motion. Yoona briefly wondered if Yuri had practiced doing this. “And I know that I still want you,” Yuri continued, whispering to Yoona.

Yoona could feel her heart race, as if she had suddenly run a mile. Her mind was drawing blanks—Yuri’s fierce gaze, her sly grin, the way she was hovering over her … it was almost like a fantasy. Not that Yoona had these types of fantasies.

Her breath turned into sporadic gasps as Yuri started running her hand across Yoona’s body—her waist, the sides of her ribs, her stomach, until Yuri ultimately reached down and used one hand to guide Yoona’s arms up while pulling the hem of her shirt upwards until she was left topless, save for her bra.

Yoona didn’t resist at all. In fact, she was helping Yuri. What am I doing? Yoona thought. Suddenly, she remembered their circumstances, and for whatever reason, couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. “Yuri, you’re drunk; don’t do this,” Yoona gently said, turning her head to avoid her gaze.

Yoona didn’t know what she expected, but it certainly wasn’t what happened next.

Yuri ran her hands across Yoona’s bare skin, making its way upward. “If I was drunk, could I do this?”

With that, she reached her right hand behind Yoona’s back; in one second, Yuri’s hand found the bra’s clasp and in another, the bra came loose.

Yoona inhaled sharply at the strange sensation. Yoona should have complete control over her body, yet something inside her almost seemed to paralyze her. In this way, Yoona could do nothing but watch as her best friend and ex-lover stripped her.

“Now, it’s not fair for only you to be topless, right? I’m gonna strip myself, so be an obedient little girl and stay still for me, alright?” Yuri said. She reached for the hem of her shirt and swiftly pulled it off.

Yoona gasped as Yuri threw her shirt to the side, and when Yuri saw Yoona’s reaction, she couldn’t help but grin.

Yuri wasn’t wearing a bra; after pulling off her shirt, Yuri was left completely topless. Yoona couldn’t help but stare at Yuri, and knowing that Yuri was aware of this made her cheeks flush with a vibrant red.

“Your turn,” Yuri said, nodding to Yoona.

“O-oh,” Yona stammered in reply, shakily bringing her hands to her bra.

“Here, I’ll help you,” Yuri said. She covered Yoona’s hands with her own and steadily brought them to the bra straps, carefully wrapping her fingers around them before lifting them off.

Once again, Yoona felt powerless. It wasn’t that Yuri was overpowering her, it was just that she seemed to lose control of her body as soon as Yuri made contact with her. Yoona watched as her bra was steadily lifted off her chest before being flung across the room.

It took a brief second to register the cool, crisp air still lingering about in the room as it made contact with her breasts. However, the feeling didn’t last long as Yuri quickly placed her hands on them, firmly massaging the sensitive skin.

Yoona gasped, closing her eyes. She bit her lower lip, contentment washing over her body. “You’re so beautiful, Yoona,” Yuri said softly, running her fingers across the sensitive nub.

Yoona bit back a moan, but couldn’t hold another back as Yuri pinched her nipples gently, rolling them between her fingers.

“A-Ah…”

Yoona could just about hear Yuri grin. Yoona felt her face flush more, but remained still.

Soon after, Yuri’s warm hands disappeared from her breasts; Yoona almost opened her eyes to see what had happened, but it soon became clear when she felt Yuri’s fingers on the hem of her jeans. Yoona felt Yuri meticulously unbuckling her pants before sliding them off. The following sound of the cloth against skin told Yoona that Yuri had done the same to herself.

“God, it’s so unfair that you can both be so beautiful and have such a sexy body,” Yuri said in an almost growling, predatory tone.

Yoona’s breathing grew ragged, which only worsened after Yuri started to draw circles on Yoona’s inner thigh.

Just as Yuri’s fingers wrapped around the hem of Yoona’s underwear, Yuri stopped herself. “Are you sure you want this, Yoona?” Yuri asked.

With her eyes still closed, she carefully nodded her head.

And with that, her panties came flying off. Yoona barely had anytime to react to it, or to the cool air tickling the small amounts of hair surrounding her vaginal opening before she felt Yuri’s fingers trace her labia lips.

“A-Ah!”  Yoona moaned, arching her back slightly at the sensation.

“Wow, just look at how wet you are,” Yuri said teasingly, using her index finger to wipe Yoona’s juice onto her finger before bringing it to Yoona’s mouth. She obediently opened her mouth and tasted herself, her tongue wrapping itself around Yuri’s finger.

“Damn that’s sexy,” Yuri noted as she pulled her finger out of Yoona’s mouth with a soft pop!

Shortly after, Yoona felt Yuri’s hand back at her womanhood, teasing the entrance with one hand while rubbing the skin around her clit with the other.

“Ah, Yuri-ah!” Yoona moaned as she felt Yuri start attacking her breasts with her mouth, kissing the sensitive skin and nipping at her nipples.

After about a minute, Yuri broke contact with Yoona’s boobs. “I’m going in,” she warned. Yoona barely had time to process her words before she felt a sudden intrusion of two digits plunge inside her.

“Ah!” Yoona moaned loudly, so much so that the thought of disturbing her neighbors briefly entered her mind.

Yuri, with both knees planted firmly against Yoona’s widely spread legs, placed her free hand against Yoona’s inner thigh, massaging it. While her other hand busily worked their magic on Yoona, Yuri captured Yoona’s nipples with her mouth.

This picture, that was drawn in Yoona’s mind from everything she was feeling, turned her on even more. She could only lay there, completely at the mercy to the woman that was currently dominating her.

“Fuck, you’re so much sexier when you’re being fucked by me than I ever imagined,” Yuri growled, leaning over to capture Yoona’s lips.

Not long after, Yuri added a third finger, increasing her pace even more; the room was soon filled only with the rattling of the bed frame, the wet sounds of skin slapping against each other, and the incessant moaning from Yoona.

A few minutes of Yuri pounding Yoona’s pussy, the slim digits easily sliding along Yoona’s slick vaginal walls as wave after wave of pleasure crashed into her, Yuri broke the kiss and started using her thumb to rub Yoona’s sensitive nub.

“A-Ah, Yuri—!” Yoona moaned loudly, feeling the sensation building up. “I’m almost—AH!” Yoona borderline screamed as Yuri used her free hand that was previously just mindlessly massaging Yoona’s inner thigh to pinch her clitoris.

A few seconds later, the familiar sensation washed over Yoona as she completely drenched Yuri’s hand, and perhaps the bedsheet as well with her juices.

Yuri let Yoona ride out her orgasm, pumping the digits inside her a few more times before unplugging the hole.

“I’m glad you let me do that,” Yuri said with contentment, laying down next to the exhausted Yoona.

A few seconds later, something dawned onto Yoona. “Wait, you didn’t get—” Yoona began, starting to prop herself up.

She was interrupted as Yuri placed her finger on Yoona’s lips. “It’s ok, pleasuring you is plenty enough for me,” Yuri said. When Yoona looked at her, unconvinced, Yuri continued, “Maybe next time, ok babe?”

“Babe?” Yoona asked, laying back down.

“Well, you’re my girlfriend now, and that’s what I called you back then. Let’s just sleep now,” Yuri said as she pulled the blanket over the two of them.

Yoona shrugged and snuggled up to Yuri. “Ok. Good night honey,” she said, closing her eyes. Subconsciously, a smile formed on both their lips as the couple drifted to sleep.

I know I said I wouldn't apologize for the like poor quality of my past works but...

Next one is a loong one featuring Tiffany, and is a more recent work so the quality of the writing should be better (emphasis on should)! :D

[swan2swan]

Yasammy Week Recap:

Day 1: "Hurt/Comfort"

This one was basic and simple; me just starting out. I probably could have done better, but, hey, Yaz literally comforting Sammy to calm her down from a full-blown panic attack works. As a sidenote, it's incredible that the writers had Panic Attacks be a Yaz Thing, and then brought her back to show that she's currently the Best Qualified on the team to deal with them (and fixed up her relationship issues with Sammy in the same blow, it's SO CARTOONY but perfect, I feel like we don't get these one-episode resolutions that often anymore).

Day 2: "Firsts"

This was a fun one, and probably the only one that I actually had some mental tryouts for. First kiss? First meeting? First teamup? There were so many choices...but this one felt right. Yasmina admitting that this is her first time having feelings for someone of the same sex (and the word "crushes" clearly means that Sammy's her first partner, too!).

Day 3: "Prom"

This is where things started falling apart, obviously. If we'd been given a proper five seasons with all sorts of Lost-style flashbacks and fantasies, I might have been able to pull something legitimate out. But also...Sammy said the word "prom", and also let it slip that she either loves fancy dresses or loves girls in dresses...and you know what? I count the latter as a point toward Yasammy.

Day 4: "Proposal/Engagement"

I don't remember how my brain wandered over to this, but I do know that I was lying down in bed at that time, because I literally sat bolt upright. My eyes snapped open, and I leaned up to secure all of that brain juice, as I realized the famous "Alan Grant uses two female buckles to tie himself in, foreshadowing the female dinosaurs finding a way to breed" could also have some WLW implications. It was a good joke, and you know what? As Sammy Gutierrez said: "It's beautiful, and we should be proud."

Hopefully, if the same prompt comes up next year, I can use a gif that actually includes the literal characters, and not metaphorical versions...Chaos Crew, please.....

Day 5: "Track Meet"

I think I was walking home when this one clicked in my mind, and I think I did a little hopskip and a dance. I was initially considering something like the two of them running for their lives together, or Sammy telling Yaz that she needed to rest to win gold medals in the future...but then, I thought about wordplay. I wondered if they were ever standing in dinosaur footprints, or tracking something. Then I thought about train tracks, and realized...yes. YES. This was perfect.

Had this not been available, I think I might have played with Yaz's scene where she uses running to realize her love for Sammy. Which is just a beautiful metaphor and a wonderful scene. Gifset's coming soon, by the way, I have the whole thing captioned.

Day 6: "Baking"

For every peak, there's a valley. Sometimes, you win. Sometimes, you lose. This was kind of a loss, because the girls sadly don't do any baking together. I considered the part where they're throwing the chips into the fire (TOXIC FUMES, GIRLS, DON'T DO THIS AT HOME, KIDS), but that's not really "baking". Furthermore, the Powers That Be chose to deny us any cooking escapades on the island, and while Sammy certainly bakes pies, Yaz is never present during those scenes...and, yes, I checked, and she never mentions her girlfriend while doing so, either. She only talks about her while fetching lemonade, which is different. Thus, I found myself in a sticky situation...which was kind of like the weather this month! So, it felt appropriate to use the concept of "baking in the sunlight on a hot day" here. I do like Sammy's silly little wave, and Yaz looking pityingly over at her.

Day 7: "Free Day"

This one, well...it ended on a bit of a sad note, but I was looking for something I had already set up. The caption is "Free Day", so I didn't want to put any work or effort into this. And while browsing my files, I saw that this one had the word "date", which is close to "day", and "expiration", which is the end of something, so...it felt apropos for the finishing touch on this beautiful week.

[uhohnotthisagain]

Meet Cute - Sam Winchester

Summary: You talk about your past and future with your boyfriend Sam.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x reader

Word count: 0.4k

Warnings: none really, mentions of death, witches, future life, mentions of sex

a/n: this one is kinda silly and bad, very quickly written so excuse the bad writing. Enjoy x

My masterlist

“You know sometimes I wish we had a meet-cute.” You said absentmindedly, sitting across from Sam at the diner. He furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”

“I wish we had a cute meeting, something to tell our future kids. Not the traumatic one we actually had.”

You had met Sam five years ago. You and your family had been targeted by a witch, your Dad’s death raising red flags to Sam and Dean. They had made it just in time to save you, after the witch had killed your sister and mum. Sam was the one who reached you first and carried you out of the house as Dean dealt with the witch.

“I would say we had a meet cute.” Sam responded. “How?” “I mean it would’ve been great if there wasn’t deaths involved, but our first meeting was pretty cute. You were on the floor, I swooped in, picked you up and carried you out. I saved your life. I’d argue that’s pretty cute, at least like it is in the movies.” Sam smirked.

You thought about, “I mean yeah that would be a good movie.”

“And hey, I know it still hurts, missing your family. Of course it does. But I’m so glad we met. You’ve turned my life upside down in the best way possible.” Sam smiles, leaning over to grasp your hand in his.

“Yeah, I do miss them but I’m glad I have you. I definitely don’t have any complaints about that.”

You sit in comfortable silence for a few moments. “So, future kids?” You blushed at the comment. “I don’t know. Maybe? If that’s something you want too?”

Sam leaned on the table, looking into your eyes with total sincerity. “I would love nothing more to be married and have kids with you.” You smiled “Really?” “I’m in it for the long run. Hopefully we will be able to quit hunting and live the apple pie life soon.”

“I love you.” He runs his thumb over the back of your hand “I love you more.” He leans over to press his lips to yours in a quick but passionate kiss. When he stands up, he holds his hand out for you, placing some bills on the table to cover your meals before leading you out to the car.

“Where to now?” you ask once sat in the car next to Sam in the drivers seat. He looks at you with the most serious face you’d seen on him. “I think we should practice how to make babies.” You let out a laugh, prompting Sam to smile. He places a hand on your thigh, with your hand laying on top of his, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the road, heading for the nearest motel.

[gunnrblze]

Soft dom Elias, anyone?

1250k words, NSFW, light dom/sub stuff, gn reader

The man is a natural leader, perfect for his job. And for another sort of job.

He’s normally rather laidback. Calm, cool, and collected. So when he meets you, the personification of a wildfire, he’s both amused and obsessed. Thinks you’re everything and then some.

Don’t get him wrong, he loves your intensity, your passion. However, you do need to be reigned in sometimes. And he loves the task all the same. He’s used to people squaking at him so he understands if you need a bit of a firm hand, he really doesn’t mind, sweetheart.

You hardly notice it at first, how he slowly and smoothly directs your attention when you crack an attitude with him.

“Yeah? Tell me about it, sweetie” he lets you rant at him, standing in front of you with his thick arms crossed over his chest. Head cocked as he looks at you, a hand coming up to nonchalantly smooth over your hair, nodding as you yap at him.

He cares to hear what you have to say, truly. But he also knows you probably haven’t eaten in a few hours, and that you’ve been annoyed with work lately. So his hand drops to your shoulder, smoothing a rough thumb over your collarbone. He watches your eyes flash with some kind of thought as he simply indulges your bitter passionate rant.

You still, raising an eyebrow, and he smiles softly.

“Gettin on your nerves, am I?” His words are honeyed and smooth, and he doesn’t miss the way your face drops as you struggle to understand his reaction. It only makes him smirk a bit more.

“Yeah, smartass, you are! I just said-“ you’ll try to regain your energy, but you’re stopped with the timber of his voice.

“I heard ya, honey” he reassures, hand coming down to your hip, wrapping an arm around your waist. He pulls you closer to him, nodding. “Real bothered with me, aren’t you?” The silkiness of his voice penetrates that simmering annoyance lighting your nerves.

He sits down in a nearby chair, pulling you down into his lap. You grumble and roll your eyes but the hand on your lower back, ushering you down with him, is solid. A weight that guides you without hesitation or question. It wasn’t forceful, but it wasn’t a negotiation.

You’re a little confused, and he knows it, watching your mouth open again to ask what the hell he’s doing. But there’s a hand on your upper thigh now, and a muscular arm wrapped unyieldingly around your waist, anchoring you down on his widespread thighs.

“Think you’re a bit worked up, is that it?” He asks, his voice lacking the condescension that would usually lace a question like that. His hand rubs over your thigh, gliding up and down as he watches you roll those pretty eyes again, huffing at him.

He feels your body relax more into his frame, but you’re still a bit rigid, pent up. He was understanding of your feelings, keeping you in place as you attempted to continue your silly ranting. But your voice had pitched down, tone melting a bit. Even more sarcasm lacing your words.

A kiss is pressed to your temple as you speak, and another to your cheek. You can smell the musk of his body, mixing with the scent of aftershave. It floods your senses a bit, slowing your words once more as you ramble about something he wasn’t even sure you could discern the cause of anymore.

The arm around your waist squeezes your side gently, and that hand on your thigh rubs a bit too close to your crotch, body unable to not react. Leaning into him a bit more, sensations fluttering pleasantly through your lower half.

“Mm, it’s alright, hon…you were saying?” He prompts you to keep mouthing off to him, smooth voice laced with a challenge he knew you wouldn’t take.

You sigh, those eyes rolling back another time before the flat of his palm runs down your inner thigh, thumb brushing against your groin. Your lower back arches on instinct, hips canting up against the touch as you bite the inside of your lip, cheeks heating up a little at the look on his face.

Neutral. So neutral, yet resolute as he swiftly challenges that haughty little attitude. His governing demeanor smoking out the flame that had lit you up.

He watches any remaining words die on your lips though as his hand parts your thighs slightly, fingers running over your sensitive area making you tingle even more than you already had been. You’re fixed into his lap, held in place steadily as he watches you stifle a little noise.

You forgot what you’d originally been up in arms over, frissons of heat running through you at his increasingly firm touch. You almost wanted to start up again, let him know that you know exactly what he’s doing now…

And boy if he didn’t practically see the thought cross your mind, fingers pressing right up against where you needed them most, starting to rub a quiet whimper out of you.

“Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” It wasn’t mocking, but knowing. He’d lulled you into docility without you even realizing, without him having to think twice.

Natural, you tried to think through the throbbing feeling his fingers were causing. You knew his methods of getting soldiers back in line was much more gruff and blistering than how he was treating you, and the thought of the Captain putting you in your place made your body react even more.

“That’s it, muchhh better” he’d practically coo at you as he touched you, arm not surrendering its firm hold around your waist.

You bit your lip as your attitude fully extinguished itself, cheeks heating up even more as you tried not to squirm atop his large thighs. He grunted lowly as you did so anyways, your rear rubbing right against his crotch.

“Just needed some attention, hm? Talk to me” he’d probe as your body got lost in the feeling, moaning softly as you tried not to grind against his hand.

You simply nodded, breathing having gotten heavier as his touch did, your ass pressed flush to the growing bulge in his pants.

“Use your words, darling, or I’m sure we can find another use for this pretty mouth, don’t you think?” he’d murmur into your ear, the hand on your side coming up to brush his fingers over your lips, gently parting them.

You let his finger slip into your mouth, earning a groan from the man as you nodded, cheeks burning as he coaxed you into surrender even more, turning you into a pliable, moaning little thing in his lap.

“Yes sir” you answered around the thickness of his fingertip without even thinking, lips wrapping around it as he continued his touch. And oh, if that response didn’t earn you a deep groan from the man’s throat. He swallowed hard, adam’s apple bobbing as he gently eased his finger into your mouth.

You sucked on his finger easily, moaning around the intrusion as your hand came up to steady yourself on his forearm. You couldn’t stop yourself from grinding against his hand between your thighs, feeling his bulge harden even more under the swell of your ass.

“There you go, sweetie. You’re so good for me, aren’t you?” His voice was deeper, growing hungrier as he slipped another finger into your mouth, letting you suckle the both of them. You nodded, eyes fluttering as your lower half throbbed.

“Why don’t we give you something else to put in this bratty mouth, hm?”

[justice4canyonmoon]

harry being all shaky and scared after having a bad dream 🥺 but you wake up because you hear him crying and you comfort him with kisses and stuff

wow, this is the first thing I've written in a long time! Couldn't get myself into the headspace I need to write smut, but I really liked this prompt, so here we are :) It's a bit on the short side, but I think it's quite cute! Hope you enjoy :)

warnings: nightmares, car accident

WC: 641

“Gemma!”

He woke up with a gasp of his sister’s name, hands trembling with shaky breaths. The dream was awful: you, his mother, and his sister were all driving to one of his shows when a drunk driver hit you head on, killing you and Anne on the spot. Gemma had been taken to a hospital, and the near scream of her name that happened when he woke up was when the heart monitor stopped beating. His heart thumped in his chest, and he turned to the bed beside him to look at you, focusing on the way your chest moved with every breath, assuring him that you were alive. 

Harry turned so he was facing away from you, trying to regulate his breathing without waking you. But every time he took a breath in, it was harder and harder to take the next. It wasn’t long until he found his face wet with tears, thinking about the way he was forced to watch the three people he loved most leave the world. He kept his sniffles and sobs as quiet as possible, not wanting to wake you for something as silly as a nightmare. But it felt so real. 

“Harry?”

He felt his body tense, hearing your voice, still thick with sleep, calling his name.

He hummed in acknowledgment, not wanting to speak in fear of you hearing his shaky voice.

“Are you crying, honey? Is everything okay?”

Maybe he wasn’t as subtle as he thought.

“‘M fine, love. Go back to sleep, didn’t mean t’ w-wake yeh.”

He heard the tremble in his voice and knew you would do the same.

“Oh, honey,” was all you said before you wrapped your arms around his waist, “what’s wrong?”

“Just a dream. Nothing too important, that’s why I didn’t want t’ wake yeh,” he mumbled.

You got him to turn over so he was facing you, and now you could see the fat tears rolling down his cheeks. You reached up, gently wiping them away with your thumbs.

“H, I never want you to feel like you can’t wake me up if you need me. Whether it’s an emergency or you just can’t sleep, I’ll be here. Maybe sometimes I’ll be grumpier than others,” that got a chuckle out of him, which you were proud of, “but I am always happy to help you.”

He smiled, leaning into your touch, “Thank yeh, my love. Best partner I could ask for.”

You smiled back, kissing the spots you had been rubbing with your thumbs, “Of course, honey. What kind of dream got you this worked up, hm?”

He sighed, dropping his eye contact with you as he struggled not to cry again, “Saw you, Mom, and Gem die in a car accident as yeh were drivin t’ one of my shows.”

Your lips turned into a deep frown, “That sound so scary, H, I’m sorry you had a dream like that. But I’m right here, very much alive, and if you want, we can call Anne and Gemma in the morning. Promise I won’t leave you like that. None of us will.”

“I’d really like to call them tomorrow. It’s been too long since we’ve spoken, anyway.”

You nodded, “Sounds like a plan.”

You pulled his body closer to yours, wrapping one arm around his waist and rubbing his back, while the other moved up to smooth his hair back. You leaned forward and pressed loving kisses to the top of his head, trying simultaneously to provide him comfort and lull him back to sleep. 

Just as you thought you heard his breathing evening out, you hear him murmur, “I love yeh.”

You smiled against his hair, “Love you too, honey.”

He relaxed into your arms, finally falling back asleep, and now that he was feeling better, you could do the same.

[tmariea]

What If I Told It In My Dreams

Fandom: MDZS/Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation/The Untamed

Pairing: Xiyao

Characters: Lan Xichen, Jin Guangyao

Rating: M (There will be a second chapter of this, and this will Increase at that point)

Summary:

To the best of Lan Xichen's knowledge Jin Guangyao had not been a sleepwalker before the war. Not once while on the run had he woken to see his companion’s slight form - the same one now silhouetted in the faint moonlight from the open door of the Hanshi - wandering about their camps or rooms.

Jin Guangyao sleepwalks his way to the Hanshi, to his er-ge's bed, and straight into a love confession neither of them were expecting out of a mundane visit to the Cloud Recesses.

Read on AO3

This fic is result of meing being possessed by this post, and a very fun back-and-forth brainstorming conversation with @dumbbo-yyy. 'This will be fun and short and sweet!' I said, 'this will be good practice before getting into Xiyao prompts for the gotcha4gaza' I said. Well, most of these things are true, but hope you enjoy 5K words of silly and sweet goo before an eventual smutty chapter 2 to come - rating and tags will be adjusted accordingly at that point, but for now all you'll have to look out for is a flash of Lan Xichen's Horny Thoughts(TM).

When Lan Xichen woke in the middle of the night to the sound of the Hanshi’s door opening, his first reaction was to call Shuoyue to his hand.  He felt this was a reasonable reaction; everyone had been more on edge since the war, and to the best of his knowledge Jin Guangyao had not been a sleepwalker before it either.  Not once while on the run had he woken to see his companion’s slight form - the same one now silhouetted in the faint moonlight from the open door - wandering about their camps or rooms.

“A-Yao?” Xichen asked, his voice rather rougher with sleep and more confused than normal.  He sent Shuoyue back to her stand with a flick of his hand and his qi.  “Is something the matter?”

A-Yao didn’t reply.  Instead he crossed the room to where Xichen was still lying half propped up on one elbow.  He placed a hand on the bed so he could lean closer.  Xichen was very aware of the way the bed dipped to the side of him, the warmth of A-Yao so close, the way he could just barely feel A-Yao’s breath ghost over his face.  He scarcely dared to move.

Xichen was not ashamed to admit to himself, but perhaps he would be ashamed to admit out loud, that he had dreamed of this at least a few times before. A-Yao would seek him out some time in the evening, or even later at night when he should have been asleep.  He would breathe out, “Er-ge,” or if Xichen’s mind was feeling particularly forward, “Huan-ge,” and then climb into his lap or over him in bed and kiss him, every hot and lovely line of him pressed up against Xichen.  Things would inevitably progress from there and Xichen would wake up in desperate need of a good long while in meditation or an early morning dip in the cold springs, all the while reminding himself that the sound of A-Yao crying his name as he finished was not a thing he got to have.  Or sometimes, he would not need either of those things at all…

Despite certain similarities, that did not seem to be what was happening now.  All of his senses were far too sharp, for one, and he really wasn’t sure his mind would make up something quite like A-Yao saying, in a much more light and affectionate voice than usual, “Goodnight kiss for Zewu-jun,” just before kissing him right in the center of his forehead.

“A-Yao, what?” Xichen managed to force out around the sudden and all-consuming squeeze of his heart in his chest.  His skin was tingling where A-Yao had kissed, and a delighted, if also slightly confused, shiver ran down his spine.

Instead of replying, A-Yao said, “Goodnight kiss for er-ge,” and kissed the same spot again.  This time his hands also came up to cradle Xichen’s head, thumbs running back and forth across the place that his forehead ribbon would lay if he were not dressed for sleep.  That plunged Xichen into an entirely different kind of wanting, the kind where his ribbon was A-Yao’s to touch, his to keep.

It already was, but up until this moment Xichen had not been sure it was something A-Yao might even want, for all his own personal longings.

He’d barely had time to catalog, much less actually sort through, any of those feelings, before A-Yao straightened back up and turned to leave without another word. Xichen stood from the bed, feeling as ungainly as when he was young and still learning how to grow into his long limbs, and took a few large strides across the room to catch A-Yao with a hand on his upper arm before he could walk back out the door.  “Please, A-Yao, is something the matter?  You are acting… unlike yourself.”

When A-Yao didn’t turn to look at him, or make any other acknowledgment that he’d even heard, Xichen took his other arm and gently turned him himself.  A-Yao moved without any sort of resistance.  His eyes were open and looking forward, but they did not appear to be seeing.  

For one terrible moment of stomach-dropping terror, Xichen thought that somehow his younger sworn brother, his A-Yao, his heart, had been turned into a puppet.  He yanked at the collar of A-Yao’s under-shirt, pulling it down far enough to see that his neck was still unblemished in the moonlight.  It was impossible anyway, wasn’t it?  There should have been no remnants of Yin Iron anywhere near Gusu to trouble them.

“A-Yao, are you… asleep?” Xichen asked finally, as the last possible option.  This time, he did not expect an answer.  “Let me take you back to your rooms.”  He placed one hand at A-Yao’s back, between his shoulder blades, and took his hand with the other, to guide him down the short set of steps leading up to the Hanshi.  How he had managed to navigate up them without tripping or making noise the first time Xichen was not sure.

By the position of the moon in the sky, the shichen was zi.  Cloud Recesses should be quiet and mostly empty, but Xichen still took them along lesser used pathways behind buildings and through wooded gardens just in case.  A-Yao would not appreciate being seen in this state of undress.  

It did have the unfortunate side effect of giving Xichen plenty of time to think on his suddenly heightened awareness of A-Yao beside him, of every place they touched.  His hand between A-Yao’s shoulder blades, and the way he could either spread out his fingers to cover much of the span of his back, or how he could let it slip lower to rest at the curve of his waist.  The loose hair brushing across the back of his hand, soft and lovely and so tempting to run his fingers through.

A-Yao’s hands, Xichen was more acquainted with.  He had been so bold as to run his thumbs soothingly across them the first time that they met, after all, trying to communicate wordlessly that he deserved far more than the scorn heaped upon him by the young cultivators around him.  And then, when Xichen had been injured and weak with fever on the run from the Wens, those hands had tended his wounds with competence and gentleness.  Since, he had watched A-Yao’s hands on teacups and on swords, held forward to bow, and in controlled, elegant gestures as he explained some brilliant idea. This didn’t mean, though, that Xichen had any tolerance built up against the wanting inspired by A-Yao’s touch.  Right now his hand was limp and relaxed, but Xichen could imagine the sensation of those smaller fingers lacing through his own.  Could dream of A-Yao lifting their hands to his lips to kiss Xichen’s with a secretive smile on his face.  It was for the best for both of them, perhaps, that they were walking uninhabited paths of Cloud Recesses, as Xichen felt his ears flame at the idea.

Reaching the walled courtyard around the guest quarters was a relief from Xichen’s own mind, but did present a new problem: although Cloud Recess was back to it’s old quiet, isolated self, everyone felt more comfortable with an increased watch after the Sunshot Campaign.  The disciple at the gate looked alert for a Lan at this time of night.  Objectively a good thing, although it meant they would require another route in.  How A-Yao himself left without raising notice was a question he suspected he may never get an answer to.

“Apologies, A-Yao,” Xichen said, and hooked an arm beneath his legs to lift him.  The way his relaxed head and neck drooped backwards was too disconcerting, so Xichen arranged the man in his arms so that A-Yao’s head rested against his shoulder, and his arms draped around Xichen’s neck.  Then, he had to take a moment just for himself, to revel in the feeling of A-Yao pressed to his chest, the perfect comfort in that pressure and weight.  Xichen’s precious burden and his feelings secured, he jumped silently over the fence.

They landed alongside A-Yao’s pavilion, in the shadows between it and a tall pine tree.  In the courtyard, no one lingered outside of their rooms, although it seemed a few might still be awake by the diffuse light from behind window screens.  Xichen made sure to step carefully and stick to the shadows along the building, until he could slip through the door to A-Yao’s room.

Inside, he crept through the dark, aware that if he were to kick over a table all his caution would have been for not.  The bed itself, he could see as his eyes adjusted, was well rumpled, as if before A-Yao began his nighttime wanderings he had not been sleeping restfully.  Xichen didn’t have the hands to rearrange the bed neatly again, so on top of the blankets it would have to be.

Except, when he set A-Yao onto the bed and made to stand, he was stopped by the arms around his neck.  It seemed at some point that A-Yao had clasped his hands, and would not be so easily dislodged.

“Please, A-Yao, I need to return,” Xichen murmured to him.

A-Yao made a noise in his sleep, a displeased sounding one.  As if he had heard and understood.

Xichen contemplated his options.  Coaxing A-Yao’s arms away would be easy enough, or he could slip his head out from between them, but the thought was suddenly unconscionable.  A-Yao hadn’t been sleeping well here, and the dark circles beneath his eyes had not gone unnoticed either, so Xichen suspected he was not sleeping well at home either.  He could not bear to disturb him when it seemed, in a mirror of Xichen’s own wishes, A-Yao wanted him to stay.

He could lay down right here next to A-Yao and fall back asleep.  He was sure sleep would come to him very easily, even though it wasn’t his own bed, with the comforting warmth of A-Yao beside him.  But then, what explanation could be given for the sect leader having spent the night in his own guest quarters?  No, it had to be better to bring A-Yao back to the Hanshi after all.  The two of them had taken breakfast together before, or gone for walks in the early morning, on days when A-Yao was awake early enough to keep Lan hours.  Although Xichen now had a suspicion that it may be after nights when he had not slept at all.  That would do - he would just need to wake A-Yao in time in the morning and no one would be the wiser.

Back out through the door they went, then, and over the wall to retrace their steps through the gardens.  This time though, Xichen held A-Yao the whole way.  A-Yao had not released his arms, and so the thought of putting him down had barely even crossed Xichen’s mind before it was gone.  

They made better time that way, as he didn’t have to be as aware of all the hazards that A-Yao could not see and may trip over.  Before long, he was sliding open the door to the Hanshi, and then laying A-Yao down for a second time, on his own bed.  He immediately missed the weight and heat of him.

Xichen sat down beside A-Yao, leaning down so as to not tug on his own neck.  He ran a hand up and down A-Yao’s upper arm soothingly, and said, “I promise I will stay.  Will you let me go?”  A-Yao made another set of sleepy grumbling noises, which Xichen found unbearably cute, but then surprisingly released his grip.  He left his arms stretched out across the empty space of the bed, as if he was reaching for Xichen even still.

Xichen slid into the empty side of the bed, and carefully draped one of A-Yao’s outstretched arms across his own chest before he could get caught in thoughts of what they each would or would not do in the daylight, the lines of propriety he was choosing to cross in the shadowy, unreal time between dusk and dawn.  Some small, unnoticed tension leaked out of Xichen’s body at the weight.  A-Yao, for his part, made another noise and cuddled closer, his head shifting until it nearly touched Xichen’s, and the arm across Xichen’s chest tightening just enough to be holding rather than laying limply.

Xichen let out a shaky breath through the sudden squeeze in his heart, and turned his head so he could kiss A-Yao on the forehead in a mirror of the kiss that began this all.  “Goodnight, A-Yao,” he whispered into the small, warm space between them, such an intimacy that it seemed the words were swallowed by the silence of the house.

He wasn’t sure if he would be able to sleep, through the onslaught of feelings that A-Yao here in his bed like this caused in him, but Xichen was out almost the moment he closed his eyes.

Jin Guangyao startled awake sometime in the small hours before dawn to the sensation, of all things, that he was too warm.  That barely even happened in Lanling’s hot and stifling summers, much less when visiting Cloud Recesses.  Next he realized that he was in the wrong bed, and the source of the extra, unexpected heat was another person in it next to him.  In this moment perhaps more than any others, he was grateful for his body’s instinct to freeze and assess when startled, as he breathed through a jolt of fear.  

This was not the brothel.  

He was many years away from the risk of a patron finding their way to his bed uninvited. 

By the pervasive scent of sandalwood and pine, he was still in Cloud Recesses, and a quick assessment of himself showed he was unbound, uninjured, and still clothed.  His instincts had kept his bedmate from waking as he did - despite the way one of his arms was slung across a broad chest and his knees tucked up between his body and the person’s hip - which would afford Jin Guangyao the chance to carefully draw himself away and see who this person was, and then slip away with them none the wiser.

Even still he had to clench his jaw to help concentrate past the rapid, fearful beat of his heart as he gently leaned back from where their heads rested on the same pillow, only a cun away from Jin Guangyao pressing his forehead to their temple.  The man’s face came into focus, the serene sleeping features of Lan Xichen.

There had been fury waiting in the wings of Jin Guangyao’s heart, hidden behind the fear.  He was grateful to be lying down in the face of his sudden light-headedness as both feelings drained away.  

So then, what had brought him here?  He didn’t feel sick or in pain, at least no more than usual, so this was not a case of a sudden illness in the night and er-ge staying by his side at the healers.  Nor had he fallen asleep in the Hanshi; Jin Guangyao had a distinct memory of walking back to his own guest quarters after taking tea with er-ge last night.

That left one option.  More than once since the war, Jin Guangyao had fallen asleep in his own room and woken sometime later standing in a garden or colonnade or empty hall echoing with the silence of deep night.  He’d taken to locking his door, but had foolishly, hubristically, thought that here in Cloud Recesses he might have less to guard against.  He wasn’t even sure that had been a conscious thought, which was infinitely worse.

And where had that thought brought him?  To er-ge’s bed.  As if his sleeping mind knew what he wanted most, and discarded all of the barriers he put up against it in his waking life to bring him right here.

The last time they had slept like this had been when they were in hiding together.  Single rush mats or hard, small beds; threadbare blankets that left them both shivering horribly, it had only been… sensible to share.  Jin Guangyao didn’t think he’d had as good of a night’s sleep since.  Not in Nightless City under Wen Ruohan’s ever-paranoid eye, or in Jinlintai amongst it’s unique crowd of vipers.  He took all of those questions about the last time he’d felt safe enough to relax and sleep without worry and shoved them to the back of his mind.  He’d always known what it meant to do what was needed, that was no different.

This though, this was not needed.  It would not advance his reputation or his plans, may in fact actively harm them were anyone to find out and decide to gossip.  (He might be safe from the Lans.  Might.  Jin Guangyao knew better than to trust even rigid rules when pitted against human nature.)

And yet.

And yet.  He had shifted the blanket down off of his shoulder without thinking about it, and now he was the perfect temperature.  Warm and sinking into the bed, surprisingly soft for his expectations of the Lan clan.  Er-ge’s breathing was quiet and even, bringing Jin Guangyao’s into pace with it, and stilling much of the storm that was always stirring in his heart or mind.  If he let himself forget for a moment all of the reasons and admonishments, he could let his head fall forward, lean against er-ge’s temple the way it almost was when he woke.  He could linger here, in this quiet, timeless moment suffused with the smell of sandalwood incense and fir trees, and with a wanting so gentle it nearly didn’t hurt.  Just long enough to fill his heart with something that could sustain him for a little while when he needed to leave.  He could do this and still slip away before er-ge and the rest of Could Recesses woke.

He remembered dozing for some time, stretches of peace without thought interspersed with indulgent awareness of comfort, and soft robes beneath his curled hands.  And then, he was waking to the feeling of er-ge rising from bed, and cursing himself for letting his guard down a second time within the same night.

Something made Jin Guangyao stay still and keep his eyes closed.  He let himself lie sleepy and relaxed in er-ge’s bed, as he listened to him move about the room.  The sounds of rustling fabric as he dressed, a comb through his hair, and then his footsteps were returning to the side of the bed.

Lan Xichen leaned over and kissed his forehead, right where he painted his cinnabar dot.  With his lips still close enough to brush Jin Guangyao’s skin as he spoke, he said, “I will be back with breakfast momentarily, love.”

Jin Guangyao had years and years of iron control to draw on.  Years of holding himself still, and smiling, and subservient, or whatever other emotion another person expected of him.  Years of speaking with perfect care, always choosing the words that would show himself as a refined gentleman, that would only enhance his reputation.  All of it deserted him in an instant, as he opened his eyes and reached out to grasp at the sleeve of his er-ge’s robes.  He asked, “Do you mean it?”

Er-ge jerked just the tiniest bit in surprise, and some distant corner of Jin Guangyao’s mind wanted to smile at catching him, always so perfectly upright and graceful, off guard.  “Huh?  A-Yao did I wake you?  I am sorry.”

Jin Guangyao ignored that question in light of repeating his much more pressing one.  “Did you mean it?”

Now er-ge just sounded confused rather that surprised.  “Mean what?  That I will return with breakfast?  It really will just be a moment, but you can sleep longer if you wish.”

Merciful Guanyin, was he going to have to say it?  But no, he had years and years of practice keeping it behind his teeth, all the way back to when his er-ge was only Lan-zongzhu and there had been an impulse in his fingers to sign off every secret letter, “In case I never see you again, I fear I have fallen in love with you.”  It kept him from being able to say it now.  Instead, his hand flexed a little tighter in the fabric of er-ge’s sleeve, and he said, “You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”  He’d intended it to come out a bit tart, a bit teasing, but the slowness of early morning diluted his tone down far too close to pleading.

Er-ge’s eyes softened, and he sat back down on the bed.  Jin Guangyao was hyper-aware of how their hips nearly brushed, the blanket between them pulling tight across his waist as it was caught beneath er-ge.

One of er-ge’s hands reached out, as if to touch Jin Guangyao’s face, but then stopped at the last moment.  Instead he laid it over the hand on his sleeve.  “Does A-Yao want me to mean it?” he asked.  He did a much better job at a teasing tone, but underneath was a steady earnestness, that promised if Jin Guangyao said no, he would step away and get breakfast.  They would eat and drink tea, perhaps walk the paths on the mountain, and the conversation would drift in other directions, never to find its way back again.  If that is what he wanted.

He did not want that vision, not at all.  He wanted his er-ge’s love, wanted to be able to love him in return.  Even if it did nothing to advance his plans, to advance his reputation.  He swallowed hard, and turned that iron control in a different direction, towards making himself speak.  “I want you to mean it.  Please, er-ge.  Please mean it.”

Er-ge’s face lit up, like he’d set off a firework beneath his skin.  “A-Yao, my A-Yao, my love.”

Jin Guangyao felt his cheeks heating, and resisted the nonsensical urge to say ‘you can’t say things like that!’  He was the one who had asked for it after all.  Instead, he ran his hand up from Xichen’s arm to his shoulder, and tugged lightly before ordering.  “Come back here, then, and kiss me.”

The way er-ge’s eyes darkened was very interesting; he cataloged that away for the future.  And then, he didn’t think anymore at all because a pair of soft, warm lips were pressing to his own.  Jin Guangyao let his eyes slip shut and wrapped his other hand around the back of er-ge’s neck.  

It kept him from going very far when he pulled back, and searched Jin Guangyao’s face.  He must have been satisfied with what he saw, because he smiled so brightly, and tipped forward again, this time to rest their foreheads together.  Even more than the kiss, the feeling of the metal cloud piece of er-ge’s ribbon against his skin made him gasp.  “My er-ge.  My Lan Xichen,” he tested out into the bare inches of space between him, his voice curling around the words possessively, and heard er-ge’s breath hitch.

And then er-ge was kissing him again, once, twice, three more times.  Each just that bit firmer than the last, enough to start to bring up the heat in Jin Guangyao’s blood, before he pulled back.  Jin Guangyao was just about to work himself up to a pout when er-ge asked, with a truly incandescent joy in audible in his voice, “Would A-Yao mind if breakfast was delayed?  I did not get the chance to properly appreciate holding you.”

Well, now, how was he supposed to complain about such a sweet request like that?  He found himself shaking his head, while the arms still around er-ge pulled him in closer in answer.

Er-ge planted one knee on the bed, so he was momentarily looming over Jin Guangyao, which he filed away for more exploration later given the swoop in his stomach.  Then er-ge swung his other leg up too, to the other side of Jin Guangyao, and tipped himself in an undignified sprawl onto the empty, opposite side of the bed.  The corners of his mouth were drawn up in delight and amusement, seemingly at his own antics, and his eyes crinkled up.  The near-laughter on his face carried over into his voice as he said, “Come here,” and reached out an arm to drag Jin Guangyao over on top of him, so he was laying with his back to er-ge’s chest.

And, oh.  Jin Guangyao breathed out and felt as if all of his muscles and bones had deserted him with how easily he relaxed into that hold.  He tipped his head back so it was pillowed on er-ge’s shoulder, and his eyes drifted back shut almost without his own accord.  His body reminding him with a vengeance that he’d had an interrupted night of sleep and this was still earlier morning than he preferred, and then throwing in, just for good measure, that he was now warm, comfortable, and safe.

“I’ve dreamed of doing this,” er-ge said, wrapping his arms across Jin Guangyao’s chest and belly, and pressing a kiss against his temple.  “I will be content for as long as you might want to still sleep.”

Jin Guangyao didn’t fully sleep again, but he did let himself drift as the sun slowly crept up over the windowsills and across the floor.  He could feel the rise and fall of er-ge’s breathing against his back, and a hand rubbing gently up and down over his side.  But, he wasn’t accustomed to lazing for particularly long, no matter how blissful the excuse.  Eventually he stretched a little to indicate that he was fully awake again, and reached out to take one of er-ge’s hands and lace their fingers together above his stomach.  He could feel er-ge’s delight in the sharp breath against his back.

“Good morning, A-Yao.”

“Mn, good morning,” Jin Guangyao said, and then asked one of the questions that had been on his mind.  “Er-ge, how did we end up here?”  He lifted his free hand to indicate the bed, the Hanshi, all of it.

“Do you have no memory of it?”

“I have a suspicion about what happened, but will er-ge tell it for me?”  Jin Guangyao hoped that he hadn’t made a fool of himself in some way, but there was a touch of anxiety swirling low in his gut over the answer.

“I am not sure what happened before this, but A-Yao came to the Hanshi last night while you were still asleep-” yes, just as Jin Guangyao had feared “-ostensibly to say goodnight, and to give me a… goodnight kiss.”

Oh dear.  If er-ge was stumbling over his words even after they had exchanged more kisses, he must have behaved egregiously.  He kept his body relaxed against er-ge’s chest with a force of will, and asked in a lighthearted tone, “Hopefully I have been able to provide better kisses while awake?”

Er-ge laughed lightly at himself, and shook his head.  “A-Yao only kissed my forehead.  But it was unexpected.  Before that, I wanted to believe that this is what we meant to each other, but I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t want to show it,” Jin Guangyao whispered.  “It was…”  He thought of promises from sect leaders.  Of tower stairs.  Vicious rumor mills that had said things about him and Nie-zongzhu even when Nie Mingjue had never looked back at him with the same kind of heat he recognized in Lan Xichen’s eyes.  Rumors that were more than happy to look at all his accomplishments, his cultivation, his status and attribute them only to the bedroom at the slightest hint…  The way much of that was still there, would always still be there.  The way that this one wanting had never been meant to grow so large as to put at risk all the others.

“Mn,” er-ge hummed gently, and tightened his arms in a silent acknowledgment.  Jin Guangyao breathed out all the tension from his chest and his muscles at not having to say it out loud.

“So then,” he brought them back to the topic at hand.  “What occurred next?”

“I walked A-Yao back to his rooms, but we had to go over the wall to avoid the guard.”

“That seems like a flaw in your guard rotation, er-ge,” Jin Guangyao interrupted, with a hint of laughter in his voice.

“Ahem, well.”

He turned his head so he could glimpse er-ge’s thoroughly pink ears, and took advantage of the proximity to shift just a bit further and press a quick kiss to his lips.  “I’ll stop, I’ll stop.”  A part of his brain peeled off to consider modifications that could be made from his old Nie rosters to work for the Lan, but that was a concern firmly for later.

Er-ge stole another kiss before he continued, “When I tried to return you to bed, you ah, wouldn’t let go.  I decided it would be easier if I brought you back here.”

“Easier how?”

“We often take breakfast, or morning walks.  It would raise less questions.”

Jin Guangyao could admit that the logic was sound, even if it had given him a moment’s panic in the middle of the night.  Well, full story told it did not seem as if he had behaved too egregiously, and certainly couldn’t complain about the end result.  Even still, he sighed, and said, “Ah, it is as I had feared, then.”

“Does A-Yao find himself sleepwalking often?”

“Sometimes, recently.  More often when I am restless or have something on my mind.”

“And did you sleep well here?”  Xichen sounded just the slightest bit hesitant, and hopeful.  It was sweet, unbearably so.

In revenge for that feeling - or perhaps as a reward, he couldn’t quite decide - Jin Guangyao stretched luxuriously, letting one arm land in such a way that it curled around the back of er-ge’s neck.  “Hm, wonderfully,” he said, letting the words stretch lazily across his tongue.  It was the truth, too.  Even his intermittent dozing had left him feeling more rested than he had in days.

Er-ge nosed against Jin Guangyao’s neck, newly in reach, and said into the hollow behind his ear, “Well then, A-Yao will simply have to share my bed any time he is in Cloud Recesses.”

“Er-ge!”

“I had meant for sleeping, but A-Yao can of course share my bed in other ways if he would like.”

There were still things Jin Guangyao would need to think through - what they would be to each other, what they would appear to be to the world.  How this would fit with his other ambitions, or possibly even rewrite them.  But for now, for now he tilted his head to show more of his neck, flexed his hand against er-ge’s skin, and said, “Yes.”

[cariantha]

Friends Again

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks) Rating: General Category: Fluff Word count: 2.2K Summary: Ethan loses something important. Prompt: Imagine your OTP where both of them have a piece of jewelry that symbolizes their friendship, and it was just for fun and definitely not serious. But when one of them loses their jewelry, they start to realize that it (and their relationship) meant more to them than they thought. A/N: This is a prequel of sorts to Bad Dream. Some of the dialogue used is taken directly from Open Heart: Second Year.

A week before the conference in Miami…

The hour-long drive seemed to pass in the blink of an eye with conversation flowing easily between the attending and his intern. They had reached their destination, the Boston Medical Library, situated on the University of Massachusetts campus. 

“Thanks again for coming and helping me with this research. I’m sure you had better things to do this weekend,” Ethan said, parking and turning off the engine. 

“You. Are. Welcome,” Sawyer playfully chimed as she unbuckled her seat belt. "And what’s better than solving a medical mystery and saving a man’s life?” 

She didn’t have to add “duh” to the end of that sentence. Ethan heard it in her tone and it made him smile on the inside. “God, where have you been all my life?” he thought to himself.

As they headed towards the library, they couldn’t help but notice the large farmer’s market set up in the adjacent parking lot. 

“That looks fun,” Sawyer remarked as she eyed the various booths from a distance. A variety of vendors sold everything from fresh produce, to homemade baked goods, to arts and crafts. 

Knowing it would make her happy, Ethan couldn’t resist. “Do you want to check it out?”

“You wouldn’t mind?” she asked, surprised. 

“Not at all. Believe it or not, I enjoy going to the farmer’s market. My dad and I would go when I was young. There’s a good one at Copley Square you should check out sometime,” he recommended, guiding her toward the first row of tents.

The pair strolled from booth to booth, inspecting all the different goods for sale. Along the way, they laughed at the silly products, exchanged personal stories, and sampled some of the food and drink. 

“Ohmygod,” Sawyer moaned, the chocolate melting on her tongue. “You have to try this,” she insisted, holding a sample to Ethan’s lips. Naturally and without thinking, he leaned forward eating the morsel right out of her hand, his lips brushing softly against her fingertips.

“It’s good, right?” she watched as he chewed and nodded affirmatively.

“Would you like me to pack up a box for you?” an older gentleman approached. 

Ethan reached for his wallet, “We’ll take two boxes.” 

“Happy wife, happy life! Am I right?” the vendor chuckled as he filled a container with chocolate truffles.

Seizing the opportunity to have a little fun at Ethan’s expense, Sawyer quickly replied. “Oh, he’s not my husband… yet. Two years of dating and he still hasn’t put a ring on it,” she waved the back of her ringless left hand. 

Ethan snapped his head to Sawyer and with bulging eyes silently asked, “What are you doing?”

“Back in my day, you took a test drive and either made the purchase or kept looking… none of this leasing business,” the outspoken elder shook his head. “I proposed to my beautiful Margie one month after our first date, and I married her three months later. When you know, you know… you know?”

“That’s what I’ve been telling him!” Sawyer continued the act, gently backhanding Ethan in the gut.

Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose and whispered under this breath, “For Christ’s sake.” 

Sawyer burst out laughing, finally breaking character. When the vendor looked at her puzzled, she confessed. “Sorry, we’re not actually together.” Elbowing Ethan in the side, “I just couldn’t resist messing with him. We’re just friends.” 

“Well, in my experience, that's a good place to start,” the man winked, handing Ethan his purchase.  

As they walked away, he shoved a box of truffles towards Sawyer with feigned annoyance. “Friends? Ha! More like a giant pain in my ass,” he contended. 

A short while later they found a fresh produce booth. Ethan quickly occupied himself, inspecting and sniffing different fruits and vegetables. If Sawyer had been paying attention, she might have learned how capable he was with all the beautiful ingredients, but she was distracted by another nearby vendor. When Ethan struck up a conversation with the produce farmer, she slipped away to make a quick purchase.

“Where’d you go?” Ethan asked when she returned.

“I got you something. Hold out your hand,” she urged.

Ethan raised a skeptical eyebrow, but reluctantly did as she said. 

Sawyer looped a braided leather bracelet around his wrist and fastened it. 

He took a closer look, examining the metal charms. One with the letter E, and another with the letter S. “What’s this for?”

“It’s a friendship bracelet,” she explained, “and since I'm giving it to you, it's official now. We are definitely friends.”

“Is that so?” 

“I don’t make the rules,” she shrugged.

“I’m pretty sure you just did.”

Ignoring his snark, “Oh, and it’s tradition that when someone gives you a friendship bracelet, you get to make a wish.”

Ethan just rolled his eyes. But as juvenile as it seemed, he knew exactly what he would wish for. “I’d wish for you,” he said to himself.

“Hey,” she took his hand and held it for a moment. “In all seriousness, you know I’m here as a friend, right? I mean… I’m learning a lot working with you on this case, and I’m grateful for the experience, but that’s not why I volunteered to help. I’m not here as an intern kissing your ass.”

Ethan knew from the very beginning that Sawyer was someone he could trust. Unlike other interns who would expect something in return, like a leg up in the competition, he knew she had no ulterior motives. Just the kindest and most genuine heart. 

He looked her in the eye and squeezed her hand. “I know, Sawyer.”

Five months later…

Alone in the beer garden at Donahue's, Sawyer sat on her tucked leg, facing Ethan’s glowing profile. He stared straight ahead, transfixed by the firepit's dancing flames.

Having mustered the courage to confront the elephant in the room, Sawyer broke the somber silence that had settled between them. “Ethan, why didn’t you keep in touch?” She watched him take a deep, anticipatory breath. “No word from you at all for two months? After everything that happened between us?”

Ethan took a moment to find his words, then turned his head to meet her eyes. “Everything that happened between us is exactly why I didn’t contact you,” he began to explain. “Sawyer, if we’re going to work together on the diagnostics team, we need a fresh start.” 

Resisting every urge to reach out and take her hand when she looked away from him, he pressed on. “Your professional development is too important to jeopardize it with whatever… whatever it was that we had.”

Sawyer snapped her head back to face him, “‘Had’, past tense.”

Ethan reached for the whiskey bottle that he had grabbed from inside and poured himself another glass. The sleeve of his green leather jacket rode up just enough for Sawyer to notice a braided bracelet wrapped around his wrist. The same one she gave him a week before their relationship went from friends to forbidden fruit. 

“Yes. And the past is where it has to remain,” he added. Ethan’s eyes bored into hers, searching for understanding and begging for forgiveness. 

After a long moment, Sawyer broke the connection, looking down at his wrist again. She thought it ironic that he would wear a reminder of “whatever they had,” while insisting that they must now ignore and bury their feelings for one another. That cheap piece of jewelry meant something to him. And the fact that he wore it now, meant that she did too. 

So without concern for the consequences, she tested her theory. Surging forward, she wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and kissed him. A long and gentle kiss. An act of forgiveness, and one that he seemed willing to accept since he hadn’t pulled away. But when she leaned back, she saw the turmoil written across his face. Just as she had months ago in Miami. 

“Dammit, Sawyer.” 

A few weeks later…

As much as he hated to admit it, Ethan desperately missed Sawyer. He missed their easy friendship. The way she always seemed to know what he was thinking. The way he could talk to her about anything. The way he could be himself around her. Not Dr. Ramsey, but just Ethan.

Though they saw each other almost everyday, their interactions were mostly transactional. It had been difficult to let their guards down around each other. Ethan found it too tempting to cross the line, and Sawyer grew tired of the knock-backs.   

The night that she helped him set up his Pictagram account reminded Ethan of the way they once were, before he left for the Amazon. It felt normal again. The friendly banter, the trust, the laughter… everything seemed right in the world for those few hours. 

After she had gone home that evening, Ethan opened his desk drawer, finding a cherished item. It was something that he’d kept near and dear since the day he left for the Amazon.  

“...how are you supposed to know when you’ve met the right person?” 

“It’s love, Ethan… you just feel it…” 

He slipped the leather over his fingers and rolled the charms with his thumb, as their conversation echoed in his mind. Then he thought back to the day Sawyer gave him the bracelet. 

“When you know, you know…” he recalled the old, outspoken man saying. 

There was no doubt he felt something for Sawyer, but was it love? Not having much experience with the feeling, he allowed himself to consider the possibility. But how to know for sure? That’s when Ethan remembered something else the vendor at the market said, when Sawyer told him they were just friends.

“Well, in my experience, that's a good place to start.”

A few days later, Sawyer approached the diagnostics team’s office. She spotted Ethan through the glass windows and paused to watch his odd behavior. He was searching for something, lifting up files, checking around the coffee station, and rummaging through the pockets of his outdoors coat. He was on his knees looking under his desk when she finally entered the room. 

“Shit…” he muttered, unaware of her presence. When she cleared her throat, he startled and stood up.  

“What’s going on?” she asked.

Ethan tried to act normal, organizing items on his desk. “Nothing.”

“You sure? It looked like you were searching for something. Can I help you look?”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” he clipped. Fortunately, June and Baz joined them for the start of their meeting, and the rookie team member didn’t press any further.  

A couple hours later, Sawyer bumped into Bryce as he stepped out of the men’s restroom. “Oof!” he grunted.

“Sorry!” she quickly apologized as he caught her shoulders.

“Geez, Brooks, I know how bad you want to hit this, but at least buy me a drink first,” he teased, soliciting a roll of the eyes from Sawyer. “Whatcha up to?” he asked.

“Just a quick bathroom break, then off to check on our DT patient. You?”

“I’m on Ortho this week. On my way to scrub in for an ACL reconstruction.”

“Niiice. Well, have fun. I’ll catch you later,” she said, putting her hand on the door to the ladies room.

“Oh hey, do you know where the lost and found is? I found this bracelet on the floor.”

Sawyer instantly recognized the accessory. The personalized charms featuring the letters “E” and “S” were undeniable proof. Then it hit her. Was this what he was searching high and low for earlier? 

“Luckily, I know who that belongs to, and I’m more than happy to return it to them.”

“Cool, catch you later,” he waved.

That afternoon, Sawyer returned to the diagnostics suite. There she found Ethan standing in front of the smartboard, studying MRI results.  

Acknowledging her presence with a side eye glance, “Did you need me for something?”

Sawyer demanded that he hold out his hand.

“Whatever for?” he asked, turning and giving her his full attention.

“Just. Give me. Your hand,” she insisted.

He yielded and held out his hand. 

Sawyer fished the leather band from her pocket and wiggled it in front of his face with a satisfied smirk. "Could this be what you were desperately searching for in the office earlier?"

Ethan hesitated, contemplating what he should admit. He finally decided on, “Maybe.”

She took his hand in hers. But before sliding the bracelet onto his wrist, she looked him in the eyes. “Will you, Ethan Jonah Ramsey, be my friend again?”

He rolled his eyes, cracking a big smile as she batted her eyelashes and eagerly awaited his answer. Then he twisted his lips playfully, as if he had to think about it. 

Sawyer squeezed his hand hard, letting him know there was only one acceptable answer. 

“Okay, okay,” he begged for relief, “I’ll be your damn friend.”

“Good…” she said, her tone more serious as she slid the bracelet over his hand, “because I’ve really missed that lately.”

“Honestly… me too,” he confessed quietly.

“There. That’s a much safer place for it. Wouldn’t you agree?” she asked, making sure the reminder of their friendship was snug and secure.

“I suppose you’re right,” he agreed, giving his wrist a twist.

“Well, friend, maybe we can talk later tonight and catch up a little?”

“Sure, call me,” he started, but then, “No, wait–”

Sawyer’s face fell immediately, assuming he suddenly remembered that he was trying to maintain those infuriating professional boundaries. 

“What are you doing right now?” he asked. “How about a walk to Derry’s for a coffee break?”

Sawyer’s happy smile returned. “I would love that… bestie.”

“Let’s not push it, Sawyer.”

Tag List: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @peonierose  @potionsprefect @trappedinfanfiction @jerzwriter @queencarb @coffeeheartaddict2 @quixoticdreamer16 @jamespotterthefirst @liaromancewriter @zealouscanonindeer @tveitertotwrites @tessa-liam @youlookappropriate @kyra75 @socalwriterbee @txemrn