#this is probably the best snowball that has ever been made. just the right weight. just the right amount of moisture.

[lotro-tooltips-daily]

[paradisetemporarilymisplaced]

So I was being a basic bitch the other day and listening to my true crime podcasts when it occurred to me just how suspicious Nile’s “death” would look to everyone not in the Guard, leading me to a train of thought that, 2200 words later, absolutely got away from me but I can’t let go so I’m inflicting it on all of you!

To set the stage, we know the movie takes place over approximately a week. Here’s what happens to Nile from the military’s point of view:

She dies is very seriously injured

She heals without a scratch

Just before she’s supposed to be shipped out to Germany, she vanishes, leaving two men concussed (and presumably reporting being knocked out by a woman with short hair wearing civilian clothes)

She goes AWOL for several days

They get word from the CIA that she is to be reported killed in action (details unclear)

So, at the beginning of this very weird week, the USMC has to tell Nile’s family of her death critical injury. What her family was told depends on how long she was dead – a Google search tells me that family will be notified in person within 8 hours of a soldier’s death, but we don’t know how long her first death lasted. For an injury, however, they’d get a phone call to notify them and the unit would arrange for them to visit as soon as the soldier is transferred out of a combat zone. Like I remember when I was in high school, a guy from my church who was a Marine was really seriously injured in a helicopter crash in Iraq and from what I could tell, his parents were told immediately and were flown out to Germany to see him, so it stands to reason that Nile’s family would have been informed relatively quickly after her throat was slashed, one way or another.

And then, she goes AWOL. Her family would be notified while the USMC tried to figure out where she went, not least because the military would want to know if she’s contacted them. (And it’s possible that her family may have been on the way to Germany to see her since we know that’s where she was supposed to go!) So for several days:

Nile’s mom and brother have no idea where she is

They know she was seriously injured and most certainly should not have been moving around on her own

They can’t get a hold of her

The military can’t tell them anything

And the next thing they know for sure is that she was “killed in action.” After being injured and vanishing into thin air. And they presumably cannot produce her body or any concrete evidence of her death. In any case, something sketchy is going on, so they’re like. SMELLS LIKE A MILITARY COVERUP.

In a surprise to probably no one, there is a well-documented legacy of mysterious US military deaths, particularly of women of color (TW for sexual assault in these links). The cases of LaVena Johnson and Vanessa Guillenin particular have made national news because of their families’ persistence in seeking justice. Likewise, Nile is a Black woman, and her mom and brother are most certainly hypercognizant of (a) state violence against Black people and (b) these high-profile cases of suspicious military deaths. So her family are seriously side-eyeing the situation, knowing that (a) the military has a serious incentive (and a documented history) of covering up things that make them look bad and (b) nothing about Nile’s disappearance and supposed death are adding up.

And Andy’s right. Nile does come from warriors. And you know who else does? Her brother.

Don’t get me wrong. Nile’s mom would absolutely not back down. She’d know something was up and want to get to the bottom of it. But based on what I know about Gen X parents (mine), they’re not the most technologically savvy. Like they can use the internet, but they didn’t grow up with it the way we young millennials and Gen Z did. So Nile’s brother takes the lead. And what do zillennials do best?

Social media.

Nile’s brother starts going hard on any site he can, trying to get the word out to see if anyone knows what happened to his sister. He starts a Reddit thread. He starts a Facebook group. He reaches out to the media and true crime bloggers and podcasters à la Sarah Turney, getting loud and being a general nuisance in hopes of getting some answers. He gets his friends and Nile’s friends involved. Maybe eventually Dizzy, Jay, and others from Nile’s unit hear about it and reach out, telling him what they saw and how weird it all was. He’s drumming up interest, and soon “Nile Freeman” becomes a household name (at least among the true crime fans).

Copley is, of course, trying his best, but at this point there is just so much that it’s impossible for him to scrub everything. Sure, he can erase new footage of Nile and the Guard, but what can he do about Reddit threads and podcast episodes that are speculating something weird has happened? Maybe he could hack the sites and shut those things down, but honestly, that’s the last thing he’d want to do, because that only adds weight to the theory that Nile’s disappearance is a military coverup. So eventually he has to tell Andy what’s going on.

Andy, obviously, does not take the news well. However, she is also completely computer illiterate, because that’s Booker’s job and he’s the only one who ever bothered to learn what the internet is in any meaningful way. (She probably calls Booker for advice, and for the record, I think Booker would have no qualms about shutting down conspiracy threads, tinhats be damned, but Copley is too concerned about the consequences. He’s ex-CIA for crying out loud, he knows how it’ll look if they scrub every mention of Nile’s name from the internet.) Maybe she confers with Joe and Nicky but, let’s be honest, they’d be equally unhelpful. So at this point, she knows they have to bring in Nile.

But the thing about Nile is that she, too, knows how to use the internet (duh). Aside from her being a young millennial/digital native, we know from the cave scene where she’s giving Booker suggestions on how to track Copley that she clearly is even more computer savvy than the average person. And for that reason she almost definitely took over the day-to-day tech stuff after Booker’s exile. So I think it would be foolish to expect her to be unaware of what’s happening. She’s not contacting her family or posting on the message boards or anything, but she knows what’s up. So Copley and the team probably sit her down to “break the news,” but we know the girl does not have a poker face (see: literally shooting herself in the foot and not being able to play it cool whatsoever) and cracks immediately, telling them she’s seen everything about her case – she’s not interacting with any of it, she certainly didn’t instigate anything, but she knows. (And she is so goddamn proud of her brother.)

At this point, I’d like to pause and consider Nile’s role in the overall narrative of this movie. She’s set up as a foil to Andy, obviously, but she’s also a foil to Booker. Booker, who, like Andy, is a serious pessimist, but who, unlike Andy, still has very fresh memories and trauma associated with being the new kid, which have destroyed him. In his mind (and Andy’s), if Nile communicates with her family, she’ll become just like him in a century or two – bitter, alone, and stuck with her grief and memories of watching her family die and knowing they died resenting her. It’s a small sample size, but this is the only experience they have to go off of.

But it doesn’t have to be like that.

There’s been a lot of discussion of TOG being a fundamentally queer movie – a group of people brought together because of something inherent about themselves that is different, that must be hidden, that causes others to hate, fear, and reject them. Booker’s backstory is the archetypal traumatic “coming out” story – his family learns who he is, hate him for it, and attempt to cast him out of their lives. He’s stuck with his trauma, his pain, his loss, and it consumes him.

But what if Nile’s family would be the opposite? What if her “coming out” to them as immortal is met with acceptance, love, celebration? What if her family is just overjoyed to have her back, and they don’t care what the circumstances are? I'm reminded of this incredible post from @shitty-old-guard-deaths a while back, where Nile’s mother hits Booker with a frying pan because “my baby let me believe she was dead for FIVE YEARS based on your bad advice???” (which may or may not have inspired this whole tangent). Nile takes the advice of someone who did the same thing she wants to do because she doesn’t want to risk her family’s rejection. She wants the good memories with her family and is afraid that showing them her true self will bring her unbearable pain, forever replacing those memories. But, with high risk comes high reward.

Anyway. Nile and the team are trying to come up with a plan for how to handle this whole thing, but she’s not really participating because she’s too afraid to hope. Until finally, quickly, so she doesn’t lose her nerve, she suggests she reach out to them, knowing that, realistically, that’s the only solution before things snowball even further out of control. The team is shocked, but realize that she has a point. They decide that Copley should actually be the first point of contact, posing as a US government official to talk with them and test the waters.

So Copley goes to Nile’s family’s house to talk with her mom and brother. They’re probably distrustful and apprehensive, but nonetheless secretly ecstatic that their work has paid off. They talk and review all of the information that they’ve collected, including testimonials from the people on Nile’s base and recent sightings (along with photos) of Nile (with the same three people) over the last few years that people have sent them but they haven’t posted publicly. At this point, Copley’s like, yeah this is about to blow up, we gotta put our cards on the table. He convinces them to come with him to some safe house/black site/whatever he can get that is technologically impenetrable (I’m picturing them in like, an interrogation room at a police station kind of deal), takes their phones, locks the doors, and brings in Nile.

What follows is the most delightful reunion scene of all time, bringing Joe, Nicky, and even Andy to tears as they watch and listen from outside the room. With Copley’s help, Nile tells her mom and brother about her immortality and what’s been going on since she died (within reason, of course), and they are thrilled. They don’t understand why (because no one does) but they don’t question it and they see it as a gift from God – she’s been resurrected, she will live, and she has a purpose. Her mother and brother are so happy to see her again and are willing to agree with pretty much anything to stay in her life as long as they can.

So. They set up some complicated agreement (they bring in the other three for support/intimidation as needed) setting the terms of their relationship. They swear Nile’s family to secrecy, maybe bringing up the lab to show how high the stakes are, and they readily agree. They come up with some cover story for Nile’s brother to share on the message boards (maybe that the government has opened an investigation but because it’s an open case he has to shut it all down? Tells people to direct their tips somewhere else? Something to that effect). There’s still speculation, of course, but without Nile’s brother at the helm providing the energy, the hype dies down as news stories are wont to do without any movement. And Nile’s family goes to work for the team. The experience has taught them that Copley can’t possibly do everything himself, especially when it comes to social media, so Nile’s brother takes the lead on the day-to-day tracking/social media while Copley and her mom focus on finding jobs and scrubbing their traces afterward.

So there you have it: Nile gets to integrate her biological family into her found family and spend the rest of their lives with them as it should be, Copley gets some badly needed help managing the reality of social media, the team finally has a positive narrative surrounding outsiders Knowing About Them AND about interacting with people from their previous life, and the audience gets the happy ending to this very lovely and very queer story to counteract the pain associated with Booker’s family.

Plus, you know, I’m a sucker for both a good government conspiracy theory and for Nile getting every good thing she deserves.

[soulmate-game]

Curiosity Killed the Exorcist

“And then, see here? You have to be on the lookout for subtle signs like these. This indicates that he’s…” Marinette nodded as Tim continued explaining, pointing out various body language and other clues out on the Batcomputer. It had only been about six months since the Batfam collectively adopted the little ladybug into their menagerie of heroes, and started teaching her deductive habits and skills. She would not allow them anywhere near Paris on pain of death (some of them had already tried, and Bruce was still recovering from the bruise to his ego. The bruise on his ass from being teleported out of the city and onto the stone of the Batcave was gone, though) but she welcomed any help they could give from within Gotham’s city limits.

Usually, at least in the beginning, they did their mentorship at a distance over video call. But then Tim found out her identity, and Marinette made the excuse of wanting to meet with them in person to gauge their trustworthiness for herself and erase their memories of her identity if they failed her test— and, well, it all snowballed from there until she was teleporting to the Batcave every few days for detective lessons. She was practically a Bat herself, if not for her out of theme codename. And she found herself surprisingly comfortable with the thought of them being a… very eccentric extended family.

Tim was flipping to another saved video in the Batcomputer archives to show another example of his current lesson, when Tikki flew up to Marinette in a hurry. She was holding Kaalki’s glasses. The little kwami whispered something in Marinette’s ear, instantly making the teen blanch and force on the glasses.

“Sorry Timmy, gotta cut this short! I’ll come back tomorrow to make up for it! Okay? Okay! Awesome, you’re the best, bye!” She ignored all of Tim’s protests and rapid fire questions, instead opening up a portal and jumping through it as fast as humanly possible. The portal has barely disappeared before an all-too-familiar voice rose up from behind Tim.

“Maybe I’m still drunk, ‘cause I could’a sworn I just saw a portal closing in the damned Batcave, of all places,” the British-accented drawl was accompanied by the flick of a lighter and accompanying fizzle of a flame. Tim groaned, mentally making a note to ask how in the world Marinette had known that John “Annoying asshole” Constantine was showing up soon, and if he could be in on the warning next time. Bruce, cowl still off, walked over from where he had been sparring with Damian and crossed his arms. He had also heard Marinette’s hasty exit, and made a few mental notes of his own before focusing on the exorcist in front of him.

“What do you want, Constantine?” he grumbled. Any time the blond brit showed up, things only got far more complicated than he ever enjoyed. And he always gave Bruce a migraine, to boot.

“Two things actually, Batsy,” John held up to fingers as his free hand tucked his lighter away in his pocket. His unlit cigarette stayed in his mouth though, probably just for the familiar feel of it. “One; I’m gonna need you to tell me why there was a portal closing when I walked in, because I’ll be honest. The implications there are way more interesting than what I came here for in the first place.”

“None of your business. What’s the second thing?” Bruce immediately shot him down, but John was not one to be deterred. He never fucking was.

“But you hate magic! You make sure I know that all too bloody well every time I pay you a visit, so why the sudden change in heart? Huh?”

“Drop it, Constantine. What. Do you. Want?”

“Fine, fine. I need your help with���”

— * — * — * — * — *

A week later, Marinette was sitting with Jason and Damian in one of the manor’s sitting rooms, the three of them just minding their own business and silently enjoying one another’s presence. Even if two of them would never admit it. Jason was reading Jane Eyre for the millionth time, Damian was leaning against Titus on the ground as he sketched, and Marinette was embroidering a sunhat. Unfortunately for her, Alfred the Cat was currently asleep on her lap and thus holding her hostage.

Even as Tikki flew up to her ear in a panic and whispered, making Marinette prick herself with her needle. She hissed for a second but shrugged off the familiar pain, much more concerned with whatever news Tikki had given her. Damian and Jason were already on high alert from the second that a whispered curse had left her lips, and were staring straight at her and her kwami and Marinette frantically tried to find a way to get up without awakening the cat sleeping on her.

“Uh, what’s wrong?” Jason asked, feeling thoroughly confused and left out. On one hand, he knew that if they were in physical danger she would have moved Alfred the Cat without hesitation. On the other, he did not like the sheer amount of anxiety he could see her experiencing. Marinette’s frantic eyes shot over to him, pupils mere pinpricks and hands mouth agape as she tried to form some sort of plan.

“Uh— “

“Ah! You must be the fair maiden that the Bats are comfortable with using magic around them,” John goddamned Constantine threw the door to the sitting room open wide, making it bounce off of the wall and lightly smack back against his shoulder. He ignored it as he grinned at the three younger people in the room, waltzing in casual as anything. He wagged a finger at her playfully. “I’ve been awfully curious about you, ya know? Brucie boy knows a shit ton of magic users, but he never likes seein’ any of us do our thing. And to not only allow you to teleport without any apparent discomfort but to actively protect your identity from me? Now that’s a damn accomplishment and I really gotta applaud you for it,” he mockingly clapped his hands a few times. “So what’s your secret, huh? I won’t tattle.”

“No thanks. Kaalki, a little help?” Marinette carefully pushed Alfred the Cat off of her lap before diving into the portal that Kaalki whipped up for her, the entire process happening so fast that Constantine couldn’t even get out a proper “hey!” before she was gone and the portal closed. He just nodded, hooking his thumbs in his pockets.

“Ya know what? Fair. That’s fair.”

“Goddamn it, Constantine!” Jason threw up his hands in frustration. “Why the fuck do you have to scare away one of the only sane people in this family?”

“Part of my charm, little red riding hood.”

— * — * — * — * — *

“You know, I’ve been pretty damn nice not teleporting right over to you whenever you disappear. So why don’t you just tell me why you’re avoiding me now that we happen to be in the same room by complete accident, huh?” John asked from where he sat in one of Bruce’s lounge chairs sipping on a beer. Marinette mimed choking him, clearly fed up. He had been trying to have a conversation with her for the past three months, ever since that one time he caught the tail end of her portal closing in the Batcave. Three. Long. Months. And he hadn’t given up, because something about this little Parisian teenager intrigued him. She was sixteen, that much he had gathered from the Bats. But to be sixteen and not only in possession of the Horse miraculous but also clearly the Ladybugs, since he had seen Tikki more than once as well, now that was interesting.

Anybody being in the possession of more than one Miraculous was already cause enough to be keeping an eye on them, which was why he had been keeping an eye on the Paris situation and had pieced together on his own that the presence of Tikki meant that this little parisian teenager was none other than Ladybug herself. Now, that? That was a whole new level of concerning, especially since he knew firsthand that the old Grand Guardian was gone and passed his title down to— yeah, Ladybug.

After that deduction, his interest in Marinette had swiftly switched from curiosity to fuck-I-need-to-know-what’s-going-on-here. Because no kid should have to deal with that kind of weight, and Constantine always looked out for kids when he could.

But right then, Marinette was glaring at him. She had been just coming over for a normal “family” dinner with the Waynes, which she attended from time to time. And apparently they had decided to have Constantine already over so that they could chaperone a meeting between them that would hopefully appease the stupid british magic user enough that he left them all alone again until the next time he needed help.

“Believe me when I say, you’d rather not know,” she replied sharply, glaring Dick. He was the one who had convinced her to come despite her recent close calls with Constantine in the past few days. He studiously avoided her gaze. “I just would rather not cross your path, and there’s no reason for us to interact. Why do you care, anyway?”

“You see, now that is an excellent question!” he chugged the last of his beer and gestured to her with the empty bottle. “Normally, I wouldn’t give a flying rat’s ass. But I’ve put two and two together, since I know who Tikki is,” he nodded to the red and black Kwami. “And maybe I just wanna keep an eye on the new Grand Guardian to make sure she’s doin’ alright. That’s an awful lot of magic and responsibility that you don’t deserve, but I’m not about to try to take it away. Keepin’ an eye on you is the next best thing.”

“Try again,” Marinette shot back, crossing her arms. “You were interested in me before you learned about me being Ladybug.”

“I’m nosy, what do you want me to say? I saw a portal in Batman’s man-cave, I get curious. Sue me.”

“Well. I have Bruce and everyone else already watching out for me, so you can leave me alone now. If I need your help, I’ll make sure to ask every other magic user first before contacting you.”

“Woah, now what’s all this venom for?”

“Uh, maybe we should go and actually eat dinner?” Dick tried to step in, hands up. Constantine had stood up from the chair he was in, which was usually a cue to change the subject as fast as possible. “Before Alfred has to come get us?”

“Maybe I’ll be less venomous if you let the subject drop and leave me alone!”

“Context would be nice, though.”

“Seriously guys, let’s go! Food!” Dick was once again ignored.

“Context is the last thing you need in this situation,” Marinette’s voice was suddenly soft, her arms dropping to her sides. “We’ve had this conversation so many times in so many now-deleted timelines. Just drop it this time.”

“If those timelines are now-deleted, then I obviously don’t remember what’s so bad about telling me why you’re acting like I’m some hated family member you’re avoiding!”

Silence.

Pure. Fucking. Silence. As they all watch with front row seats as Marinette flinches at the word ‘family’.

Pure silence as Constantine’s shoulders drop at the sight of her flinch, realization slapping itself on his face.

“No.”

“See? I fucking knew you would— that this would happen. This always happens, you always hate finding it out, but you’re so— so stubborn!” Marinette was blinking away tears, digging in her pockets and bringing out Kaalki’s glasses. “You’ll drop it now, at least. You always do.”

“Now what is that supposed to mean?” Constantine rubbed his forehead, still trying to sort through his amalgam of emotions. Marinette just shook her head, turning to Kaalki.

“Do you mind showing Monsieur Constantine the way out, Kaalki? I’ll grab you a load of sugar cubes afterward.”

“No, wait, hang on a second!”

A portal opened up under him, making John “Stubborn Idiot” Constantine drop ten feet down onto the hardwood, polished floor of his house. His bruised tailbone would take a while to heal, but his frazzled mind was by far the more concerning development. He staggered to his feet, reaching for the nearest bottle of tequila.

“Ugh, fuck my damn life.”

— * — * — * — * — *

“Marinette..?” Damian nudged the girl with his shoulder, frowning. It was after dinner that same day, and as much as he hated to admit it he had grown to actually like having her around. She was a good friend to have. And seeing her slumped back on one of their sofas, sketchbook covering her face and not a single rambling conversation to be had or heard? It was very concerning. She just made a groaning sound to answer him, prompting his frown to deepen. “Are you alright?”

“I just can’t believe that such a sweet, adorable thing like you is half made up of Constantine’s genes,” Jason mused bluntly from the opposite couch, where he tossed a rubber ball up and down out of boredom. “But now I see where you get all of your Disaster Bi-ness from.”

“Shut uuuuup,” She groaned, chucking her sketchbook at him. He caught it in midair, replacing his rubber ball with it and tossing it up and down in the air. “I’m just frustrated. This timeline is still perfectly stable, so I can’t erase it. And I can’t exactly ask ‘hey, can someone commit a horrid atrocity that makes this timeline split from the main one so that I can erase it and we can start over from four months ago?’ because that would be horribly irresponsible of me. But seriously, Jason. If you’re gonna ever commit, like, city-wise arson? I’d probably condone it right now if only so I have an excuse to use time travel to get out of this situation.”

“Not committing arson unless you give me a better reason for it, Pigtails.”

“Damn.”

“But are you okay?” Damian asked again, seeing as she had completely ignored him.

“I’m fine, Damian,” she finally sighed. “And I know how this is gonna go. He’s going to totally ignore me now, until we meet during some magical crisis and he only interacts with me when necessary. Then he pretends we never met, we have a private little one-sided whisper-argument about how he will never make a good father figure and I would be better off leaving him alone, blah blah blah. Avoidance is a coping mechanism I guess I inherited from him.”

“Guess it’s a good thing I’m trying to bite that in the bud then, eh?” Marinette startled out of her sitting position, seeing John stumble into the room…

Drunk off his ass. But apparently still at least mildly coherent.

“I agree with deleted-me’s, I’m not gonna be a dad. Not me,” he tripped, landing on his still-bruised ass and hissing in pain before continuing from the floor; “So if you’re looking for another Daddy dearest, that ain’t me.”

“See, I knew this is how you’d—”

“Let me finish,” he interrupted. “I don’t know how long the booze is gonna last and I need it’s courage here. ‘Kay? ‘Kay. Where was I? Right. But I know magic, ya know. The kind that doesn’t rely on little bobblehead gods to do. I got— like, a million books. Shit ton of books. At my place. Ya can read ‘em. My books. At my place. But I ain’t gonna parent, but I can lend ya books. Maybe give magic advice. Teach a little. Little bit. Didn’t think I’d have a child, but apparently I do and she’s the fuckin’ grand guardian and a damn hero, and I don’t know how the fuck I was able to help make someone like that. But whatever, it’s not like the world’s ever fuckin’ been easy on me,” He pulled out a sample-sized bottle of whiskey from one of the pockets on the inside of his trench coat and chugged it. After a brief wince and hiss at the burn, he kept rambling. “My door’s open, is what I’m tryin’ to say. No guarantee I’ll be in any state to talk to when you walk through it, but it’s open.”

Deciding to steadfastly ignore the tears streaming down her face, Marinette just swallowed thickly and nodded.

“I, uh. I think I can work with that.”

John barely made it to the nearby bin in time to vomit into it.

— * — * — * — * — *

I hate my imagination sometimes, guys. I started imagining a convo between Mari and Constantine at like 4am and it wouldn't leave me alone until I got it down. but by the time I wrote it, I kinda forgot like 60% of the original convo and just winged it. And this was born. I 100% blame @multifandomscribette because their Bio!dad John Constantine headcannons are amazing and even though this isn't in that universe, those headcannons are exactly what inspired this. So blame them, lol.

[probably-haven]

Hello!! After seeing what you wrote about xiaoven fics I went to see what things you usually write and omg, your archon Venti headcanons????? I am absolutely in love. So if it isn't annoying, could you talk about xiaoven or Venti or Xiao or whatever ship or character you like? I don't care what you are going to say, I just want to know more about your thoughts ^^

I- is this... bestie, this is essentially a free ramble pass- kerujsgheskdfug. Trust me when I say that in no way is this, and in no way will it ever be annoying in the slightest- i literally- lets just say rambling off thoughts is kind of my specialty, especially when provided a topic to branch off of because otherwise I'm just- really indecisive about it so- iujskdh yeah- 100% definitely down to talk about Venti, Xiao, and/or Xiaoven XD. Also, yes- it may have been awhile since i last posted one(cuz again, indecisive about which direction to take part 5), but the Archon War Era Venti headcanons are still without a doubt my favorite posts I've made. It's just such an interesting topic with such endless potential that so few people actually think about or consider or even realize is there, so i always just get really psyched whenever i see someone interact with them lol.

.... this ended up being a bit of a mess: warning in advance

Anyway! onto the actual content!

- You see the thing about Xiaoven is that there's a lot of different ways that it could end up working out, and just personally my favorite way of portraying Xiaoven in my mind is as an unlabeled relationship because if anyone in genshin would give off that vibe its these two. And a number of other reasons.

- Firstly, I heavily headcanon Venti as being an aroace polyplatonic or perhaps heavily demiromantic. However, regardless of this I just don't think that Venti is really the kind of person to worry about how he should label his feelings, thinking it's silly to try to put them in one box or the other, especially with feelings and emotions being as fluid as they are in general. Plus it fits his whole God of Freedom vibe. I just- dont think he's the biggest fan of labels or social categorization in general.

- And secondly on the hand of Xiao... his defense mechanisms are very much ingrained in his personality. It's probably hard enough for him to not go into fight or flight(the answer is fight) at the slightest affection at first, at the slightest feeling of vulnerability. Even further down the line, with his fierce dedication to Liyue, I cant help but get the vibe that the moment he recognized that he was falling for Venti he would begin avoiding him, not only to avoid distraction from his duty, but to avoid corrupting him or losing him in general like he has with like basically every other person he gets close with(even believing that the cycle had repeated once more when he first heard of Morax's death)... now imagine Venti tryna slap a label on their relationship and tell me Xiao would have a positive reaction.

- The thing with Xiaoven.... honestly, i feel like theres more ways that it can go wrong than it can go right, but if they do manage to make their relationship work out, it's just simply beautiful in all terms of the word.

- Lets talk about killing. - During the Archon War, both were forced to kill a large number of people and gods alike- Venti out of a need to remain alive to protect Mondstadt, it's freedom, and the nameless bard's legacy by extent- and Xiao out of servitude to the god that was once his master

..... actually- break here- ive talked a lot about Venti on this blog but I havent actually spoken about Xiao all that much- so i should probably do that a bit first... do note though that my characterization of Xiao is pretty flexible actually- this is just- the possible characterization of him that i tend to favor as being the most- uh- "realistically complex"

-

Theres a line I saw this one time in a certain story: "He is a trained weapon. That's what he is, was, and always will be. You cannot change that so stop trying." And i just- think its a really interesting concept- that applies pretty well to Xiao now that i actually think about it. - the concept behind it is this: After spending more than a vast majority of his life killing or otherwise in battle, it's become a part of who he is, a normalcy that after centuries and centuries would be near impossible to get rid of or reverse, and even if it was possible, with his karmic debt constantly eating away at him its unlikely he has enough time left for that to happen. - it sounds like a cruel thing to say about him- but in context it's actually pretty layered and i think about it a lot. It's not as much a "he's a killer lol, that his whole personality" its more of a "The centuries of trauma he experienced have conditioned him into a constantly alert and battle ready mindset while also shaping his dehumanizing inferior-in-worth-but-superior-in-capability view of himself that would have likely been necessary to get through those time, and at this point he's been under that conditioning for long enough that it's essentially ingrained itself in his personality."

- the main idea is- it's a part of who he is, that needs to be accepted as who he is because its not something that he can just up and change. It's not all he is of course but his constant battle mode, as though always waiting to be ambushed or to be granted a new target to eradicate.

a couple character story quotes:

-"His past of service under the evil god had rid Xiao of his innocence and gentleness. All that remained within him was the means to kill and the weight of his sins. The only way he could be of service to mortals was in combat." -"Xiao does not feel any hatred. Having lived for over two thousand years, no single karmic debt constitutes anything more than a fleeting memory. No grudge can last a thousand years; nor is any debt so great that it cannot be paid off in this time. Xiao has spent many long years alone. But his battles have never been in vain." -"where did Xiao have to return to? He was merely leaving the battlefield." -"since Xiao wages a constant war against dark forces powerful enough to devour Liyue in its entirety, any bystanders who witness him in the heat of battle are likely to end up as collateral damage." -"The war he fights can never be won, and will never come to an end." -"Because ultimately, the one with whom Xiao wrestles is himself."

i feel like at some point this very nearly did consume his whole personality, almost turning him into nothing more than a being of slaughter under Morax's control, devoid of any "humanity" at all, consumed and corrupted by his karmic debt like his fellow yakshas before him. - until he experienced a moment of clarity- a song in the wind, the peaceful melody of a dihua flute. - and pulled back from the border of something he wouldnt have been able to return from, there a was a shift in his mind- a concept grown unfamiliar enough with time that it took him a great time to identify what it was; a curiosity. Something that there was no place for on the battlefield, something that by all means should have been completely useless to Xiao, and yet he held onto that curiosity, slowly regaining over time, a sense of who he was and who he could choose to be with each song that the wind chose to carry towards him every once in a blue moon.

and eventually that curiousity turned to longing. Longing "for a day to come when he will wear the mask and dance — not to conquer demons, but to the tune of that flute amid a sea of flowers"

...... uh- heh- if you couldn’t tell already i have a tendency to make my characterizations/analyses of characters more serious that i probably should. 

to summarize: Xiao is constantly toeing the line between his ingrained nature and his humanity- almost as though still trying to decide how much of that humanity he deserves to have, how much he is allowed to have, and how much is safe to have.

^looking back after writing this, i think the best way to explain it is that this is the view that i keep in mind/the lense that i tend to most enjoy looking through and refering back to while examining and/or analyzing his character, actions, story, lines, and overall personality.

idk- i kinda got off track but i just think its a really interesting interpretation to think about because it has some really interesting implications ig- it’s not the full extent of how i view him of course, but i kinda got ahead of myself and its long enough as is so ill just elaborate as i go- Lol i actually have in progress playlists for both him and venti and just- vibes- i could ramble about the playlists alone for hours explaining everything... It’s probably a problem- uh- ill keep going now lol.

anyways! stepping off the angst path for a brief break! Brought to you by their lines in the snow: both waiting for it to get thick enough, Venti for the purpose of a snowball fight and Xiao for the purpose of a tasty and nutritious breakfast.

but its actually something of note that Xiao doesnt actually need to eat so anything he does eat is usually out of obligation or enjoyment- so like.... snow.... like i dont blame him, but of all things- an adeptus who refuses to eat basically anything but almond tofu looks at the freezing-cold-floor-water that yeeted itself from above and decided at some point- damn- that seems more edible than basically ever single actually edible thing ever.... im gonna eat it- like- im glad if eating snow makes him happy but- at the same time...

He probably convinces Venti to eat snow too though and Venti wouldnt even resist I mean he’s wind and has probably consumed worse things in his time so- 2 anemo cryptids with glowing tattoos sitting in Dragonspine monching snow in the dead of night is an amusing thought to me.

- kay, now back to more serious-toned thoughts

One of the things about the ship that i really like is the different contradicting parallels between them:

A lot of how i view Xiao’s character is someone formed largely by the things he cant control and who was forced to accept that accepted that and learned to thrive in it as much as he can.  Venti on the other hand is surrounded by things he cant control and is ever adapting to control as much as he can while embracing whatever he cant as being part of the unpredictability of the world, seeing beauty in it. 

both of them have lost people and do what they do to honor their memory: Xiao continues to do what the Yakshas once did And Venti chooses to do what his friend couldn’t

Xiao’s power coming from himself  and Venti’s from others And both seem to appear to use their power for their own gain while truly helping others behind the scenes

both have killed a lot of people during the archon war Xiao views it as another necessary event out of his control and Venti would likely view it as a tragedy he chose to enact himself

and this is where we meet out balance

Xiao- contrary to how i think a lot of people view him as thinking of himself as a monster- seems canonically to have accepted this as part of his duty, as long as those he killed are not mortals. I dont think he enjoys it no- but someone has to do it and he’s just accepted that its a part of his duty Venti on the other hand-

See the beauty of the ship- as someone with an angst-centric mind- is this- these are two of the most traumatized mfers in the game 

Xiao is by far the one who needs the most help and who can serve to benefit most from the ship- but he is nowhere near self aware enough to recognize that there’s anything wrong or unhealthy about his mindset in the slightest-

whereas you have the contrast with Venti who sorted through most of his trauma with the nameless bard alone during the archon war and while the result appears more healthy- is still really not- but he’s not self aware of that either because i mean- who’s going to tell him? nobody even knows. 

however- venti is aware enough to notice flaws in Xiao’s mindset and “Venti” enough to want to help them through it-

Xiao- while not aware enough to recognize the flaws in Venti’s mindset, can recognize where it contrasts with his own, and is blunt enough to point it out- and then it’s out there to be mulled over- 

they’re so similar and yet so different and a feel just conversing between the two of them, being in each others precense, just being exposed to two mindsets that are so very different could do both of them a whole lot of good.

GEEE THAT BIT OF RAMBLING HAD LITTLE TO NO DIRECTION AT ALL- LET ME-- LET ME MAKE THIS START MAKING SENSE- WITH... DYNAMICS OR SOMETHING

I don’t think Xiao needs to sleep really- and i dont think that sleeping would do anything except make him uneasy at first- he’d probably just get nightmares after all he’s been through- but with Venti he would soon learn that it doesn’t have to be that way, lulled into the first peaceful sleep he’s had in... as long as he can remember.

anywho back to not making sense cuz im fickle and i think most questions about ships are best displayed through character interactions so like- a possible exchange thats cliche but cliches exist for a reason

Xiao: Why do you try so hard to help me, it isn’t easy. I know that much Venti, with the most adoring expression: Because you’re worth it, obviously Xiao: But surely there are others more deserving of- Venti: No Xiao, everyone is just as deserving as the next person, you included Xiao: Then why me above others? Venti: ehe, cuz ur my warrior of course [O//////O oh shit, hes right] Xiao: My contract is with Morax alone [gay panic but in broody yaksha]

it’s kinda difficult cuz neither of them really address their feelings.  I mean Venti does but he does it very indirectly and its rare that he ever does it with like- genuine directness- even spilling his backstory was in the form of a song- and told in the third person- so a lot of their interactions would often have some deeper meaning, especially with Venti being the bard he is. 

I come up with a lot of- errant thoughts about Xiaoven- but this is making me realize that a true analysis of their ship is rather difficult because it just encompasses so many dynamics so its hard to settle on just one and not go rambling about who knows what bouncing from one end of the ship to the other-  Because you truly can and thats the beauty of it

within one moment you can be having a heartfelt conversation about the archon war the impact of lost friends and times past, and the next moment Venti is trying to forcefeed Xiao an apple while Xiao screams about disrespecting the adepti and its just- so lovely

so while they have picnics with nothing but apples, dandelion wine, and almond tofu they can sit down and talk about the dreams Xiao once devoured, and the dandelion wine and apple cider that the first Ragnvindir invented from the plants that never could have grown in Old Mond. The foods that tasted of familiarity, or of the grilled ticker fish Pervases always used to eat, foods that tasted of friends and frankly family that had since passed, glaze lilies and cecilias and qingxin flowers scattered in the surroundings and woven into Xiao’s neat braids and Venti’s now messy ones, rebraided by the steady and inexperienced hands of one unused to gentle action. 

and then of course Venti steals Xiao’s tofu once the mood becomes too grim and replaces it with a bottle of wine that Xiao refers to as “vile poison,” a remark that fatally wounds Venti as he collapses on the floor, proclaiming how he can only be healed by a Yaksha’s kiss. Xiao ignores this of course and simply takes back his tofu with a slight smile on his face, but as Venti persists he soundlessly places a kiss on his own palm before intertwining their fingers and pulling him back up from where he was dramatically sprawled on the floor, grumbling about how such action was “unbecoming of an archon.” A sign of affection only Xiao would ever know about. But Venti is literally wind and I hc his senses work differently anyways so he definitely knows- plus Xiao’s face is red as the blood of his enemies and the way he is pointedly not looking at Venti at all really speaks volumes anyways. 

 -Venti playing epic battle music whenever Xiao goes into fights in what looks like a ridiculously extra performance to anyone else but is actually doing wonders to keep Xiao’s karma at bay

-Venti preaches the practice of “kissing wounds better” and Xiao is unfamiliar with this medical treatment but views it as unnecessary regardless because adepti have accelerated healing, doesn’t mean he’s going to stop him though. 

-Messages whispered on the wind

-Venti’s 1000 year sleep- an accident, not a fun time for the yaksha, and not a fun time for Venti once he woke up. Venti is actually more afraid of restful sleep than Xiao is, hence the sleeping in trees thing, but when Xiao is there, he can sleep restfully with faith that Xiao wont let another millennia slip through his fingertips. 

- Xiao tends to make excuses when doing things that aren’t necessary to his duty, like in his birthday voice line “Have this, it’s a butterfly i made from leaves... Okay. Take it. It’s an adepti amulet -- it staves off evil” because at the current point in his progress it helps him to feel like he’s allowed to do these things. Not wanting to put him off from progress, Venti never comments on his excuse but never fails to whisper a quick reminder of how proud he is of how far Xiao had come.

- Xiao’s karma saddens Venti greatly- not only because of how it effects Xiao but also because its a reminder that as much as Venti tries to honor the memory of those he’s killed, there will always be those who resent him for it, and when he took the option of living away from them, he truly can’t blame them. - And when he gets too wrapped up in thoughts, whether around this topic or similar ones or otherwise, eventually, he’ll hear the sound of a flute on the wind. It’s not divine by any means, but as his own wind connects him to the source, he gets the sentiment all the same. “What impact does one individual’s remaining wrath have on the present. You have done much to help the living in the present” the unspoken idea that Xiao has included himself in that statement, because now, with Venti’s help he’s beginning to learn just how to experience living for himself. 

- Venti’s form and Xiao’s mask are off limit topics though because if either mentions it the other will counter with the opposite and the mood will turn immediately bitter at the idea that both know that what they’re doing is destructive but neither are willing to change

- Venti who has different tells for negative feelings than most people because as much as he likes to pretend it is- this form isnt his, and Xiao who is able to identify those

- many fanfics and headcanons have Venti recognizing when Xiao is uncomfortable and getting him out of those situations. I see that and I love it but i raise you: - Venti taking Xiao to Mondstadt, careful that he doesn’t get to the point that he’s uncomfortable. And nothing goes wrong exactly, but Xiao notices the the way Venti’s cape is blowing in the wind, the way he’s holding his weight, barely on his feet so much as floating on the wind, connected with the ground only for the sake of appearance, all the while he looks just as happy go lucky as ever. And without a word, he grabs his hand and teleports them both out of Mondstadt.  - turns out it was just a slight thing that reminded him of the archon war (cuz i will die on the hill of him having more tragic backstory than just Decarabian), and he of course gives a sincere if not flustered thanks to Xiao, because he’s really not used to people noticing. 

- Venti trying to vent sneakily through fictional stories and Xiao is just like “Didn’t that basically happen to you” and Venti is just like “<_< shit”

- Venti once said affectionally that he wished he had met Xiao sooner and Xiao immediately and seriously shot it down by saying “If you had, I would have been forced to kill you” and both of them now stay up at night wondering who would have won that fight, not sure which result would have hurt more. (because honestly I have no idea who would win in that fight and that terrifies me- I like to think it would have been one of those legends that end with “and the fight persists to this day” or something along those lines)

- “How long have you been together?” “Adepti have no need for-” “1000+ years T^T how dare you deny our love” “O///O our...? ...useless”

- its disney- let me explain- i have this- i have this headcanon inspired by watching too many animatics- - so venti has a human form that isnt his- which he would have had to get used to moving in- and he’s a bard- - uh- anyway- as a third degree black belt in mixed martial arts, i can speak as an authority on this(not really an authority since i havent gone since quarantine but lets pretend). We have a thing referred to as the big three(most things do), and those things are martial arts, gymnastics, and dance. The idea is that they reflect really well off of each other and the best in any one category are good in all three. Timing, balance, form, discipline, technique, hand-eye coordination, grace, ease of motion, they all play a part- anyway-

- Venti taking Xiao’s prowess in martial arts and acrobatics and teaching him how to dance, and as someone who’s extremely skilled in the first two, the third comes easy to him, almost naturally. And it’s delicate and beautiful and lovely and it isn’t hurting anyone. And Venti points all these things out and more and despite how much Xiao insists that he feels ridiculous he truly does enjoy it and it goes a long way towards helping him form more healthy views of himself and his worth.  - Verr Goldett walked in on him once and made a joke about performing at the inn. unfortunately Venti was there and agreed on Xiao’s behalf before he could protest and- and it wasn’t as bad as Xiao thought it would be... he still wouldn’t do it again though without reason, but with good enough reasoning he could probably be convinced. 

- anyways point is he likes dancing to Venti’s songs and i just think that’s really cute - just picture the idea that all the animatics you see actually have the potential to be canon- ugh

- venti tries holding something out of Xiao’s reach since he’s taller and Xiao just fucking teleports 

- both need their space but when they dont, all they have to do is speak the other’s name and they’ll be there.

- and because i just had to.... love languages

- lets start with Xiao- i don’t think he’d view acts of service or quailty time as a love language tbh, and he blunt but really bad with words so affirmation is out, leaving gift giving and physical touch. However, he seems to view most material things as meaningless so- - Xiao who’s love language is in his fleeting touches, something he’s only recently grown comfortable with because of Venti, and now is giving back, which he knows he doesn’t have to do, but that he want’s to, though he’ll still continue to make excuses for each one. “you were shivering” “The inn is high up, you could have fallen..... I said what I said, you’d question an adeptus?”

- and as easy as it is to say words of affirmation for Venti- he does that for everyone- i want to say his is actually acts of service - its the acts of service that let him see just how much Xiao has progressed afterall, from teaching him to dance, to playing another song on the flute, to supplying him with the almond tofu he seems to enjoy so much. Every little thing he does helps Xiao to grow and he couldn’t be happier about that. 

-

- of course most of my headcanons for the ship do take place latter into the relationship because- y’know the less serious unhealthy vibes allow for greater range of thought, but i do still love to think about the serious implications so i kinda hopped back and forth. So sorry about how messy it is btw, i kinda- got carried away- it kinda got some kind of structure near the end tho so- maybe it’s okay. anyway- back to... lol something, we’ll see where thought forests lead. 

[generallybarzy]

our white christmas. ---m.barzal

an: the first of a couple winter fics and Christmas related chapters of series!!! I hope to have about three other things posted before Christmas, so hooopefully I'll get those put in time. Of not, they'll just be a little late!!! Have we all heard about what happening in my life?? I won't bore you by giving all the details again but writing some fluff is really helping my cope cause otherwise I think I'd lose my mind. Reminder to everyone to WEAR YOUR MASKS and TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY. Peoples lives are at stake here. Just cause Covid has been around for a while now isn't an excuse to stop caring. Its worse now than ever before. 

tagging some bbs!!!:  @sunflowertimothee @deleausvp @dunnwithlyfe @smit41 @softboybarzal @fallinallincurls @matbaerzal @brokeninsidebutnobodyknows @hockeyhughes11 @folkloreflyers @nazdaddy @shawnsreputation

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If there were only two things you loved, they were, in order, Mathew, and snow.

But it was really unfair to only list two things, especially after spending the entire week with your amazing boyfriend and his amazing family. You were filled with so much more love than ever before, and there was no way you could choose just two. But Mat was definitely on top. 

You didn’t grow up with a necessarily affectionate family- you never had family movie nights or game nights or ever really hugged or kissed each other- so meeting Mat’s family was a bit overwhelming at first. The best overwhelming you could ever feel. They welcomed you with open arms, in fact, the first thing his mother did after opening the door to see the two of you was to wrap you in a hug and thank you for making her little boy so happy. And Mat gleamed, his face lit up in one of the brightest smiles you’d ever seen, save for the one when you promised to be his.  

You’d spent the whole week before Christmas waiting for snow, talking about how much you’d love to play in it with Mat and his family, but despite the freezing temperatures, there was none on the forecast. 

When you woke up this morning, curled up in Mat’s warmth, with his lips ghosting over your skin, you knew something felt different than other years. And something was different. Suddenly you were loved by not only one, but four members of the Barzal family. 

“Merry Christmas, baby.” Mat’s raspy morning voice filled your ear, his big arm curling around your waist again and tugging you closer. You turned towards him, smiling at the dumb, lovestruck smile on his face, at the sleepy but teasing eyes he was giving you. 

“Morning, Mat.” 

He leaned in to press your lips together into a sweet, chaste kiss, just the simple act of sharing each other's presence in bed before you'd have to inevitably get up and join his family. For some reason, it felt much colder this morning than the others, so you stuck your chilly fingers into his soft hair and pulled your feet under the blankets and pushed them between Mat's warm thighs. "Whew, baby, you're cold." Most people would scoot away at the contact of chilly hands and feet, but Mat was different. He wanted to share his warmth with you, keep you safe and comfortable, and he always did. He readjusted his grip and pulled you closer, tugging the blanket up around the two of you and sharing the warmth. 

"Thank you." 

"Hey, I gotta warm you up if we're gonna be going out soon." 

"Why are we going outside? Is that another Barzal tradition I'm gonna learn?" 

"Well, duh." He smiled and brushed his nose against yours, whispering against your lips. And for once, you didn't mind the morning breath, not with that gleaming, contagious smile just centimeters from your face. "We always go out. Especially on a white Christmas." 

"Wait, a what?" 

With newfound energy, you sat up in bed, pulling the duvet up with you and looking out the window. Sure enough, even in the pale morning light you could see the world was covered in a soft white blanket, inches already piling on the ground as it continued to pour down. 

"Babbbyy, now I'm cold!" 

You glanced back at Mat, whose bare chest was now exposed to the cold winter air, pouting up at you with open arms. But, as beautiful as he looked, his hair dark and fluffy against the pillow, you wanted to go out now. “Mat, let’s go out in it!” 

“No, no, no, come back here!” Mat jumped up with a grin and pulled you back against him and rolled over with you in his arms, and, as your still-sleepy morning reflexes were too slow to react, pinned you under him against the bed. He pressed his nose against your neck and peppered kisses all over you as you continued to giggle in glee from the way he grabbed you so cheekily and playfully. “Mine.” 

“Matyyyy,” 

“Babyyy.”

“Mat I wanna go out! I’ve been waiting for snow all year!!” 

You squirmed against him in laughter as he playfully nibbled at your ear and kissed your cheek, whining for you to shut up and cuddle him for a bit longer. Before he could respond, there was a knock at the door, and his sister’s voice sounded from outside, followed by his parents downstairs. “Guys, we can’t open presents without you!!” 

“Fine, fine, we’re coming!” Mat yelled back. 

Before Mat could roll out of bed, you pulled him down to press a kiss against his lips. “Thank you for bringing me out here.” 

He smiled and returned the kiss cheekily. “Just wait until you get your presents, baby. You’ll love me even more.”

“Impossible.” 

------------------

You got what you wanted this year, in every way.

You got your white Christmas, you got a boyfriend who loves you so dearly, and his family that loves you just as much. You had fun out in the snow with them, building a little snowman and having a snowball fight and going out on the frozen lake and getting challenged to a hockey game by his dad. You had eaten a warm dinner, with warm apple cider and even warmer hearts as his family laid out for you all the reasons they were glad you were here, how sweet you were, how happy they were that you were taking care of their boy. And now, you had Mat in your arms, wearing matching plaid pajamas with you, warm blankets around you and The Office on TV, and hot cocoa as you cuddled in the light of the Christmas tree. The Christmas tree, with the handwritten names on five dazzling ornaments hitting the light just right and glimmering from where you lay with your boyfriend. 

Mom. Dad. Mat. Liana. And the newest addition to the little family, (Y/N).

The rest of Mat’s family was still outside, talking in the soft lights on the back porch, and, what you and Mat didn’t know, was that his parents were glancing in every now and then and admiring the way their son treated you. The gentle kisses, the cute smiles, the soft words. The way he was just so comfortable and easy and himself around you.. Like you were made for him. And they knew you were the one for him. 

“So," Mat's voice was soft and whispered against your skin. He lay on top of you, his head on your chest, his comforting weight settled down against you like the warmest, safest, coziest weighted blanket you’d ever had the pleasure or loving, your fingers scraping across his scalp like he always loved. "You got your white Christmas. How are you feeling?” 

“Mmm. Cold."

Mat let out a little teasing chuckle, poking your cheek with one long finger. "Well, who's idea was it to go out, baby?"

"Whose job is it to warm me up?" 

"Always mine, baby." 

“Always.”

“Only for you.” 

His arms wrapped tighter around you, pulling himself up to lie beside you rather than on your chest so he could reach your lips, he tucked the blankets up tight around the two of you in a little cocoon and pulled you close to his side. And his lips found yours. He’d quite honestly never get over kissing you. No matter how delicate, the feeling of your skin against his was always enough to make sparks fly, to make his heart leap in his chest, even after a year together. The spark was still there, the joy he felt just knowing that you were with him and everything would be okay. The way your lips molded perfectly together as if sculpted specifically for each other and no one else, the way your nose tickled into his cheek and the way you always let out a soft “oops” when you leaned in the wrong way and bumped noses before a kiss. The way you always smiled up at him with love and adoration after breaking apart breathlessly, as if all you wanted was to hold him and kiss him forever. And ever.

“Getting up this morning was definitely worth it. Even if I got cold.”

"It was worth it." You leaned down to press your lips against the tip of his nose. "I love spending time with your family. I love them."

"And they love you." He cast a glance out the backdoor and into the yard, where his family was still having fun, having quietly promised him that they'd give the two of you a little time to yourselves at the end of the day, as long as you kept it PG. They adored you, and he couldn’t be happier for how well you got along. "How'd you like your presents so far?"

"They were great. The ornament tradition…. Mat, you guys didn't have to include me in that."

"Baby," he propped himself up on his elbows above you and looked into your eyes with a type of passion you'd never seen on him before this week. "That's not true, you know that. They love you." 

"They probably love any girl who makes you happy, Maty." 

"(Y/N)," He said it slowly, dragged out like a warning, like all the other times your mind started to wander and let you think you deserved any less that the best. "Did you know I've never actually introduced a girl to my family? Not like this." 

"Never?" 

"Never. You're the first girlfriend I really ever brought home. 'Cause you're the first one I love like this." His lips found your cheeks again, pressing gentle kisses to soft skin. "I love you so much, more than I’ve ever loved someone in my entire life. And I know you love me too, it makes me so happy.” He laughed again, in disbelief once again that he scored someone as amazing as the girl in front of him. “And I believe in us. I wouldn't introduce you to my family if I didn't think we'd last long. And I think we're gonna last a long time. I believe in this. In us."

“Really?”

He laughed a bit, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Uh, duh. Of course I do, baby.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “I believe in us too.” 

“Good.” 

He brushed loose strands of hair away from your face and kissed your cheeks delicately, running his hands across your sides in an attempt to warm you up. You slid your leg between his, his thighs are always so amazingly plush despite how hard you’d believe them to be due to hockey. But, like him, his thighs were strong and big and muscular but so soft and warm at the same time. You giggled to yourself at the thought, and Mat didn’t have to ask what was so funny.

“Thank you for letting me come home with you Mat.”

“Hey, you told me how your family doesn’t really celebrate, and I’d have to be a lot more stupid to leave a pretty girl like you alone in that tiny apartment of yours for the holidays. I couldn’t.” He kissed your lips one more time and smiled as you hummed against him, completely content.  He liked the idea that you were so willing to try this out for him. You came from a family that wasn’t very affectionate or celebratory, so the last thing he wanted to do during the holidays was freak you out, but you seemed to love it all. “So, that brings us to our last gift of the night, I think.” 

“There’s more?” 

“Oh yeah, there’s more.”  

He rolled over the side of the couch to reach down underneath, where he’d apparently hidden a little gift earlier in the evening. When he turned back to you, he was holding a small square box, not small enough to be a ring, but maybe a necklace.

“Mat… I said no expensive jewelry.” 

“It’s not jewelry, and it wasn’t expensive, like less than two bucks. Basically free. Hopefully it’s really meaningful, though.” The look of confusion on your face as you wracked your brain for what he possibly could have gotten you for less than two dollars was a look Mat would never forget. He laughed a bit and held it out to you. “Open it.”

You scooted up to sit up more on the couch, directly in your boyfriend’s lap, and Mat’s arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you back against his chest, his head on your shoulder to watch you delicately tear off the paper and pop the lid off.  

There, in a little blanket of tissue paper, lay a shiny silver key.

“Oh, my god, Mat.”

“It’s a key to my apartment.” He smiled, shyly, as if worried you might think he’s moving too fast. “We’ve been together almost a year, and even though I have you here with my family this year, last year you were alone. I never want you to be alone for Christmas- or any time- ever again. I want you to be comfortable in my apartment, I want you to feel at home with me, when you’re at my place. Fuck, that’s not enough. I want to live together, baby. God, I want to live with you. To wake up together, brush our teeth at the sink, make breakfast, I want to get the kisses before leaving and after coming back from practice and your work, I want to fall asleep together every night. I want to be with you. All the time. And, God, I hope you want me all the time too.”

His face was flushed, eyes genuine and warm, a smile on his lips, his big hands holding yours. This. This was the man you wanted in your life. This is the man you wanted to spend your holidays with. The man you wanted to spend every day of the rest of your life with.

“I love you, Mat.”

“So you’re moving in with me?”

And your answer was simple enough as you pulled him down into a kiss. You breathed each other in, smiling against your lover’s mouth and bringing your hands up to hold his jaw and pull him closer still. 

“I can’t wait, Mat. I can’t wait to live with you. I love you.”

“I love you.” 

The backdoor opened, and before you knew it, you were surrounded by even more people who loved you, cheering and swooning and celebrating the big step in their son’s relationship. And you realized just how much they all meant to you, and exactly who they were to you. 

Your soon-to-be new family.

[ichorizaki]

cosy up, cuddle down | o.t.

#PAIRING.  oikawa tōru x f!reader #GENRE.  fluff #WORDCOUNT.  2.5k #SYNOPSIS.  your very bored boyfriend drags you out into the snow to build snowmen. unfortunately, a snowball fight broke out and now you’re shivering and in need of warmth.

✎  author's note is at the bottom of the piece.

Snow danced in the golden beams of sunlight, stunningly choreographed by the rhythm of the gentle winter breeze. The sky was but a grey sea of fluffy clouds overhead. Rays of the sun broke through the clouds like angels’ pathways down from the heavens above. Miyagi has been pelted with a thin white layer of snow, like the city was a cushion so warm and soft. Even through the windows of Aoba Johsai High school, the entirety of Miyagi Prefecture looked like a winter wonderland. Snow was by no means a rarity but it never fails to fill you with wonder and unbridled, child-like excitement.

However, it was a pity that you were so sensitive to the cold. You watched the snow from afar, in the confines of the living room with a mug of hot cocoa made by your ever so talented boyfriend. He was laying down on the couch with his head on your laps, hugging your leg like you’re his personal bolster. There was some movie playing on the television screen that you weren’t paying attention to and he was somehow so engrossed in it. Mattsun and Makki were always recommending him stupid movies to watch and more often than not, you and Iwaizumi were dragged into it too.

“Baaabe.”

“Hm?”

“I’m bored.” You brought the mug to your lips, sipping on the warm drink whilst also trying to get one of the tiny, slightly melted marshmallows to chew on. Upon succession, you placed the mug down on the coffee table before you while he shuffled his position so he could sit up straight. His deep honeyed gaze was fixated on you, lips twisting to the side and pouting cutely. “You’ve got some hot cocoa on your lips, silly.”

Before you could pick up a tissue to clean it or even swipe the remnants of the drink with your tongue, your boyfriend had leaned forward to capture your lips in a kiss. You felt warmth rush up your neck and to the apples of your cheeks, painting them a rosy hue; a telltale sign of how flustered you were by his action.

“Tōru!” Your hand flew over your mouth, brows furrowing in faux anger at him. He all but gave you a cheeky grin in return.

“What?” Oh, that shit-eating grin you wanted to wipe off of his face so badly. “Anyway, Y/N sweetie, I’m boooored. Let’s do something!” Like a child he bounced in his spot where he sat on the couch, legs folded underneath him.

“What could we possibly do, Tōru?” You asked. He hums, eyes fluttering shut while his index finger and thumb cradled his chin. He seemed an awful lot serious for someone who’s bored. Just what goes on in his mind, you didn’t know. Not that you minded. Sometimes his ideas can be rather genius. Other times, however . . . they’re purely idiotic and it’s during those times he’d end up in some shit with Makki and Mattsun that you and Iwaizumi have to end up cleaning. One time they tried to race on shopping carts in the parking lot of a neighbourhood mall. Long story short, Tōru ended up bruising his wrist while Makki had a sprained ankle. How Mattsun managed to escape unscathed remains a mystery to all of you.

“Let’s make a snowman.” You would’ve choked on your drink if it wasn’t placed far from your reach. Your face had distorted into one of abject horror at his suggestion, while his was akin to that of a child on Christmas morning. “What? It’ll be fun! I’ll wrap you up in many many many layers, I promise.”

“Tōru, that’s the least of my concerns right now,” you sighed. “There’s barely enough snow on the front yard to make a snowman.”

“Then we’ll make a mini one!” He responded as-a-matter-of-factly, like it was the most obvious thing to do; the perfect compromise for the snow, or lack thereof. “A cute little snowman. Maybe even more than one. We could make a whole family of mini snowmen!” You all but stared at him, not quite sure on what to make out of this idea of his. On one hand, you got to see his nose and the tip of his ears turn that adorable rosy hue of spring blooms in the beginning of winter. On the other hand, you were terribly sensitive to the cold. There was a reason why your parents were so against you leaving your house during this time of the year.

Tōru had slithered from his position across you and onto his belly, arms snaking around your waist. He dragged himself up into what resembled the cobra position, resting his chin on your stomach with that handsome grin of his on his stupid handsome– okay, Y/N. You gotta resist. Do not fall for his trap. Whatever you do, absolutely do not fall for his stupidly handsome grin, the one that never fails to make your heart flutter and race like you’re a girl in middle school all over again.

“Okay, we can make snowmen.” Well, you tried. That’s an A for effort. Maybe you could stall him . . .

“Yay! Y/N baby, you’re the best girlfriend ever, I love you so much!” His palms were now flat on either side of you as he pushed his entire body weight up to press another kiss to your lips. This kiss, you savoured all that you could of it. Your fingers trailed up to cup his jawline, tilting your head just the slightest so you could deepen the kiss. A soft hum of appreciation fell past his lips, swallowed by your own before his tongue had found its way swiping at your bottom lip. His rough, calloused fingers had now found purchase on your waist, hiding underneath the fabric of your sweatshirt. He massaged mindless and shapeless blobs into your sides while his tongue ravaged your mouth like a beast, making sure no corner was left untouched before he pulled away to catch his breath. “As much as I’d love to make out with you, I really wanna make snowmen, baby girl.”

It was your turn to pout, chest rising and falling as you chased for your breath. So your plan to make him stay inside a little longer was foiled. Could you refuse his cute face? Absolutely not. You were putty in his hands. He knew it, you knew it, and he knew that you knew it. Tōru leans back with that handsome grin of his so omnipresent on his face, resting his haunches on the heels of his feet. You missed the warmth of his touch but you knew one way or another, you’ll be back and cuddling up to each other.

As promised, your boyfriend had wrapped you up in a ridiculous amount of layers. He on the other hand, simply had a winter coat, a scarf, and a pair of gloves which had his name embroidered in an elegant golden. Your heart swelled with pride upon seeing that: it was an expensive gift that you’d gotten for him last Christmas. He was always complaining that his hands were cold, so you decided to get him a pair of gloves. Turns out, he was just making excuses to hold your hand during wintertime.

“Do you think we should make one by your gate so it can be seen by others?” Tōru takes your mitten-clad hands in his own, his warm breath billowing onto your joined hands. You looked up at him with a frown on your face. “What? No good?”

“If we’re gonna put it on the floor, why make snowmen at all, babe?” He nodded slowly in agreement. “How about on top of my mailbox? I’m pretty sure we can somehow try and balance it. The surface’s not curved.”

“Sounds good!” He cheered, leaning in to press a warm kiss to your lips. How could he be so warm in this cold weather? It was probably one of the perks of being an athlete, you guessed. ‘Athletes run hot’, you remember one of the boys said. You couldn’t quite remember who, but you distinctly remember your boyfriend agreeing because of his ‘attractive face and hot charms’.

The two of you walked over to the square-shaped mailbox embedded into the cobblestone fence that guarded your little house. Your task to build an army of tiny snowmen was quickly forgotten when your boyfriend had decided to smother your cheeks with snow. Yelping out from the sudden biting chill of the snow, you quickly bent down to scoop however much snow you could in your tiny hands before shoving it onto his chest.

“Y/N, that’s no fair!” He cried out at how cold the snow was as the temperature penetrated through his winter coat. However, peals of laughter quickly resounded in the air. “I’m so gonna get you for that, pretty girl.”

Your eyes watched him carefully as he scooped up a generous amount of snow in his palms. The second he began charging towards you, you were screaming while he chased you around the tiny yard. Your heart was rapidly beating against your chest as you tried to catch your breath. He was way too fast for you and quickly gained on you before dumping the snow on your head.

“Tōru!” You shrieked. “You’re so mean!” The chills of the wintry breeze caressed your rosy cheeks, tangling with the locks of your hair until you could feel it freeze among your strands. A sneeze ricocheted through your system. It was so strong that you jumped in your spot.

“Eh? Baby girl, are you okay?” Perhaps he had finally remembered that you were sensitive to temperature, especially in freezing negative digits. A loud gasp of realisation and shock was due when you suddenly sneezed once again.

Then another sneeze. And then another. And then another.

“Okay, okay! Immune system, quit being mean to my poor girlfriend!” He sulked, pulling you into his arms. Immediately you were embraced in warmth, but it wasn’t enough even through the five layers (yes, he made you put on five layers) of winter apparel. You were still sneezing and it was beginning to make your eyes water. Now, you were beginning to be afraid that your eyes were going to freeze up in the cold. Bursts of apologies were profusely coming from his lips like a desperate prayer to gain back the gods’ favour to somehow miraculously cure you that instant. Tōru swayed your body side to side, peppering warm kisses that felt like delicate butterfly wings made by the sun against your face. “Aw, my poor baby. Let’s go in, shall we? I’m so sorry for making you play with me, I genuinely forgot.”

“‘S okay, T-Tōr– achoo!” He finally guided you back inside where the snow could be observed from afar and heaters warmed up the space. No matter how slobbery your running nose was, your boyfriend was ever so kind to give you encouraging kisses on your cheeks and forehead while stripping you out of your winter clothes in your room. He ran around the vacuity of your house, already so familiar with the space having spent an ungodly amount of hours there to the point where your parents could recognise his shoes in the entryway, along with Iwaizumi’s.

He had always been so gently with you, and this moment was no different than the rest. He grabbed all of the comforters that you had, all of the blankets that were in the house (except for your parents’, of course) and tossed them onto the couch next to you. You would have complained if it wasn’t for the fact that Tōru was so frenzied by the idea of being the reason you were catching a cold.

“My poor, poor baby,” he cooed softly. His big hands were quick to wrap you in a layer, and then another, and then another, and one final one. Satisfied, he placed his hands on his hips and stared at you, bundled up in four different layers that wrapped around your body. All you needed left was him to cuddle you. “Anything I can get for you, baby girl?”

“Some hot cocoa, and lots of kisses and cuddles, please.”

“Okay, I’ll be a second. Don’t miss me too much, yeah?” Though his words were teasing, you knew he meant well. Before your boyfriend disappeared into the kitchen, his index finger and thumb cradled your chin to bring your gaze to meet his. He places a kiss on your forehead, the tip of your nose, and then finally one last kiss fully on your lips. “I love you.”

Ah, he just knew how to make your knees weak, didn’t he? The telltale heat of a blush creeped up your snow-cold cheeks and he grinned triumphantly. You could all but muster a weak response that mirrored his words exactly and then he was off into the kitchen. Right as he promised he was back before you knew it. Or was it because the cold was making your brain freeze too?

“C’mere.” Tōru gently peels the layers from your fingers so you could hold the mug with your two hands. As soon as your fingers came into contact with your mug, you swore you could have melted right then and there. Your nose was clogged no longer thanks to the steam from the mug and the heat that radiated had sent goosebumps rippling in waves from your hands and all the way to your spine.

He had settled himself right behind you on your bed, adjusting the pillows with one hand and being careful so he wouldn’t accidentally cause another accident. Tōru manoeuvred his way around like you were a glass doll until he could confidently settle his arms around your frame. Melting into his embrace, you’d nearly forgotten about the hot cocoa in your hands. You took small sips as he sung quiet hymns of praises and apologies right next to your ear. His chin rested on your shoulder while his left hand moved to caress your hair and tuck locks of it behind your ear. Given it was a little difficult, but he prized your comfort over everything else.

“Feeling comfy, my pretty princess?” He prompted when you handed him the half-finished hot cocoa. He reached over to place the mug on your nightstand. Your fingers were no longer freezing and you could finally feel your hands.

“Very.” You got onto your knees, turning around and resting on your haunches and opening up your arms with the layers of blanket acting as wings for you. To him, you looked like a cute little snow angel. “Now get your ass under the covers so we can cuddle.”

Tōru all but laughed. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around your frame before carefully laying the both of you down on your bed with you on him. His hand reached up to push the mountain of blankets and comforters away from your head so you could properly rest on his chest. Fingers carded through your locks, gentle and tender whilst he hummed a nameless tune. Warmth finally spread throughout your body and it felt like you were sinking into a warm, toasty marshmallow. Yeah, you were right: one way or another, you both ended cuddling up to each other.

꒰💌꒱ A LETTER FROM SOL!

hi @mindfulvenus​! i’m your secret santa. i hope you love your gift and it was up to standards♡ oikawa tōru is a goofy, needy boyfriend and i will die on this hill i’ve created.

[awanderingdeal]

The one in which Logan finds Corbett - Chapter 3

This one is dedicated to the very sweet anon that suggested Corbett in the snow! Thank you for your love and encouragement. Join Finn, Leo, Logan and Corbett for a snow day! 

CW: one joking threat of murder, and a brief mention of a snowboarding injury.

Please message me if you feel that any content warnings need to be added. 

Rating: G (Not all chapters in this fic will be the same rating)

Credit to @lumosinlove for Finn, Leo, Logan and the sweater weather universe. Thank you for letting us use them! Corbett is mine :)

Please see my masterlist for future and previous chapters! "Fucking snow'," Finn growled, seeing the white blanketing the floor when he opened the blinds. 

He felt Leo perch his chin on his head, wrapping his long arms around his torso and squeezing - a small display of excitement. "Can we -" 

 "Absolutely not," Finn interrupted his boyfriend's question, wriggling out of his hold. "We have nothing to do today. There is no way I am going outside in that," he stabbed his finger towards the window, "if I do not have to."

Finn would have liked to have said he was surprised when forty-five minutes later he was wrestling on layers of clothing to protect himself against the ungodly wind chill. However, he would be the first to admit that Leo Knut had him well and truly wrapped around his little finger. There was only so long Finn could resist his boyfriend’s doe eyes. 

"This is a little excessive, non?" Logan laughed, watching Finn pull on another pair of socks. "Will your feet even fit into your boots?" 

Finn looked down at his feet, and considered that maybe Logan had a point. Perhaps four pairs were too many. He removed the last of them, chucking it at Logan’s head. "That's what you get for teasing me."

"It is not even cold," Logan said, crouching to scratch Corbett's belly, the dog giving a satisfied whine. "Wait! This is Corbs first time seeing snow," he gasped. "Are you excited? Are you?"

"I'm going to kill you,” Finn said, how dare Logan say it wasn’t cold. It was snowing!  I'm going to kill you, and bury you and no one is ever going to find you." The threat may have held more weight if he had been able to keep the smile from his face whilst he issued it. "You love me too much to murder me," Logan smirked. "I am loath to admit that is true," Finn sighed. "Leo!" Logan’s gaze looked past Finn towards the doorway "Save me!" "I'm just going to pretend my boyfriends aren't crazy if you don't mind," Leo replied, seemingly unfazed by the dramatics. He pressed a thermos into Finn's hands. "Coffee, can't have you freezing on us now, can we?”

“Thanks, Nutty. You're the best," Finn hummed against Leo's lips, pulling away with a grumble. "Right, come on. Let's get this over with." "Smile," Leo laughed, something soft and melodic. It always sounded like a song to Finn's ears. He poked Finn lightly in his cheeks until his mouth somewhat resembled a smile, "We're going to have fun." Logan slipped Corbett's leash into Leo's hand, before reaching for the beanie Finn was holding. Finn began to protest the theft, but then Logan was placing it on his head, with a softness that he rarely possessed outside of Finn and Leo. "We're going to have fun," Logan reiterated, adjusting the hat slightly and kissing Finn. Corbett thumped his tail against the hardwood as Logan took his leash back from Leo, excited to leave. Finn looked between his boyfriends, who seemed just as eager as Corbett, and decided even if his fingers fell off with the cold, he wouldn’t care much.

"You have to promise not to scream," Logan said, letting Corbett into the back seats of the car, Finn sliding in beside him. 

"Only if you promise to drive like a normal person," Finn argued. There had been a brief argument over who was going to drive, Finn refusing to do so in this weather. In the end, Finn had reluctantly handed over the keys to Logan, who had claimed he had the most experience in these conditions. It was true, but he also had a tendency towards road rage that slightly terrified Finn. “I promise,” Logan nodded, “I’ve got precious cargo on board.”

“Are you talking about us or Corbett?” Finn snorted a laugh as the door shut in his face. 

"How do you even know Corbett has never seen snow?" Leo interjected, changing the conversation as he buckled his belt.  "He's 8, it's possible that he has."

"He's from Texas," Logan shrugged, muttering something under his breath about tall people as he adjusted the seat. "I just figured it wasn't likely." 

"He could have gone on vacation," Leo reasoned. "Have you been on vacation, buddy?" he asked, craning his head around to look at Corbett.

 "Can you stop ruining the fun with your big logical brain, s'il vous plaît?" Logan scowled playfully. 

They were a few minutes away from the park when Corbett sat up, thudding his paws against the window. "Heyyy boy, you know where we are?" Finn laughed, trying to escape the wagging tail.

"He's smart, like his dad," Leo said, his expression smug. He too was starting to show signs of excitement. They were small, but Finn had spent enough time cataloguing Leo's mannerisms that he would never miss them. The slight flex of his fingers. The way he took a second , then third glance at the snowman somebody had built. The way he sat up straighter with every inch closer they got to the park. Finn would have thought one winter in Gryffindor was enough to dampen anybody's enthusiasm for the snow, but Leo had made it through his first year with his still in-tact. Whilst Finn teased him for it, he felt there was something poetic in the fact the snow, which was so unexceptional to him, held such magic for his boyfriend. 

Corbett's barks pulled him from his thoughts and alerted him to their arrival in the parking lot. Finn had to admit, from the comfort of the warm car, it was a beautiful scene. Snow was still falling in a kind of slow dance. At this early hour, it was still winning its war against the footsteps that tried to mar the quilt it was knitting on the ground. He pulled his jacket tighter around him and stepped out into the wintery battlefield. "Baby," Leo cooed, pulling a pouting Finn into arms. "Thank you for coming with me, it wouldn't be the same without you."

"Can I get in on this hug?" Logan asked, "Or is it a ticketed event?" "You're an idiot," Finn shook his head, but gestured for Logan to join in. They were only huddled together for a few seconds when Corbett barked his discontent. It was probably for the best anyway, considering they were in public. Sometimes, it was so easy to forget themselves. The fleeting melancholy of it all was forced away by the sound of his boyfriend's laughter. Finn looked up to see Corbett was perched on the very edge of the car seat, looking out rather warily to the snow. his eyes darted between the three of them and the ground, as if his brain couldn't reconcile the fact they were standing on it.

"Come on, Corbett!" Logan encouraged, breaking away from them. A stream of French left his mouth. It was lilted and bouncy, nothing like his usual tongue. Leo huffed out a laugh, saying something that Finn was pretty sure was just a mocking repetition of one of Logan's sentences. The theory was confirmed when Logan flashed Leo his middle finger, still talking to Corbett. Finn cocked his head, asking silently for a translation. 

"A summary," Leo said quietly. "Logan should definitely take over from Cap giving the team talks. He's very inspirational" 

"I can hear you, Knut," Logan whipped his head around quickly. "I was, in fact, just telling Corbett what a brave boy he was."

Corbett seemed to have taken the words to heart, and took the leap of faith onto the snow. Finn thought he heard Logan stop breathing in anticipation of his reaction, but Corbett just froze. Other than a tiny twitch of his nose, he stood stock still. "Is he broken?" Finn said quietly, feeling Leo shaking silently with laughter beside him. "I think he's broken." 

Corbett snapped out of whatever trance he was in just as quickly as it came and he galloped away, his legs splayed unusually wide. Finn saw Logan purse his lips to form a whistle, but Corbett started his return to them before he could get the sound out. "You can't run around the lot, but you can go free once we're in the park, okay," Logan clipped Corbett’s leash to his collar.

“Your coffee, sweetheart," Leo said, handing Finn the flask he'd shoved into the cupholder. Finn gave him a soft smile as a thank you, not even bothering to deny he had forgotten it. Leo helped him remember things, and he helped Leo with anything related to numbers. They were a team, both on and off the ice. Logan too. Finn loved his team, he loved his life. They trailed behind Logan and Corbett by a few steps, sneaking small glances at one another as they watched what was apparently a riveting conversation. "

You gonna run around in the snow too," Finn grinned, bumping his shoulder against Leo's.

"Maybe I -" Leo started, but then they reached the park. Logan let Corbett off his leash, and all their attention was pulled to the German Shepherd prancing through the snow, shaking his head with glee. 

"Hey, Corbett!" Logan called, packing snow into a ball and throwing it. The ball splintered as it hit the ground, Corbett's face turning into a picture of confusion. He looked between Logan and the ground multiple times, before turning his stare to Leo and Finn. Rather than trying to solve the mystery any longer, Corbett scooped a mouthful of snow and bounded back to Logan, dumping the offering at his feet. Finn was distracted by the dog’s antics, so he didn’t notice Leo creating the snowball that collided with the back of Logan’s neck.

"Leo!" Logan yelped, already crouching down to pack more snow into his gloves. "Oh, no, no, no, no!" Finn protested, seeing exactly where this was going. "Leave me out of this," he struggled to make his voice heard over Corbett's excited yips.

He quickly realised the words were a mistake. A challenge that Logan would never be able to resist. There was a gleam in those green eyes that Finn had long since learned only meant trouble. He took a few small tentative steps backwards, as if he were retreating from a wild animal. Thankfully, in the brief moment Logan took to contemplate who would be his first target, Finn's phone began to vibrate in his pocket. 

"My phone!" Finn said, relief evident in his voice as he pulled the device out of his pocket. Alex's timing was, for once, impeccable. Hopefully, Leo and Logan would get their bewildering need to pummel one another with the freezing substance out of their systems whilst Finn talked to his brother. "Alex, hey!" he greeted, turning his back on his boyfriends.

Some part of his brain told him it wasn't wise to let his guard down so easily. He took a glance over his shoulder as Alex began to ask him a question about their upcoming family reunion, just in time to see Logan jump on Leo's back, dragging him to the floor.

“Hello, are you listening to me?" Alex asked, his voice full of a fond exasperation. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Finn gasped, feeling his eyes begin to water, “Logan just…” he couldn’t finish the sentence, his words distorted by laughter. 

"Do you want me to call you back?" Alex said.

Finn managed to compose himself enough to answer the question, "No, no. I'm using you as my excuse not to get involved in this chaos."

 "Chaos? Where are you?"

"We got the first snow of the year," Finn explained. "So of course Leo got all excited -"

"He's so Southern!" Alex chuckled. 

"Don't interrupt me! Leo got all excited, so we're at the park and," Finn raised his voice so that Leo and Logan could hear him, "somebody decided it was a good idea to chuck snow at Logan, which has obviously descended into madness.”

"I miss snow," Alex sighed. "Nat and Kase were talking about hitting the slopes when we get a break though so that'll be nice." 

Finn snorted, "Al, last time you went snowboarding you managed to break your leg.

 "Anyway! As I was saying, Uncle-" Finn didn't hear the rest of what Alex had to say, the next thing he knew he was falling face-first into the snow.

"Finn, baby. Are you okay?" Logan asked, laughing slightly as he helped Finn to his feet. Once he was upright, Finn shook him off, crossing his arms across his chest.

"No, don't baby me. I am not happy with you." Finn said, looking around for Leo. He spotted him a short distance away, talking on the phone that had flown out of Finn's hand. 

"It wasn't me!" Logan argued, tugging at Finn's arm. When Finn refused to unfold them, Logan merely hugged him anyway. "It wasn't! It was Corbett!" Finn looked at the dog, who was now sitting on his haunches, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he tried to get his breath back.

"Sweetheart, are you okay? I think Corbs got a bit excited," Leo said, just as Finn was about to make a point that it wasn't fair to blame the one individual who couldn't defend himself. "Your brother said he'd call back later.”

“Thanks,” Finn nodded. “And no, I am not okay,” he pouted, “I am cold and wet and I think I scratched my nose.”

 Logan laughed, taking a surreptitious look around before pressing a small kiss to Finn’s nose. “There, that’ll make it better.” Finn’s lips curled into a smile, never able to stay angry at Logan for long. He could be infuriating in so many ways, but his heart was always kind and generous.

“Come on, let’s get you home and in front of the fire.” Leo chuckled, taking the leash from Logan and clipping it to Corbett’s collar. The German Shepard gave a small whine when he realised the fun was over. 

“You’re grounded,” Finn huffed. 

“Finn, you can’t go two minutes without giving him treats,” Logan said.

“I am the parent, I get to decide when he’s ungrounded,” Finn argued, pulling his wet hat off his head. His ears felt the cold immediately, but it was better than having the damp thing over them. 

“Here Fish, you can have mine,” Logan smiled softly, handing over his own beanie. Finn took it gratefully, and allowed Logan to adjust it in the same manner he had done earlier. 

"You want this?" Leo asked, holding out the thermos that he had retrieved along with Finn's phone. Finn's eyes widened, making grabby hands at the object until Leo surrendered it. He took long gulps of the drink, feeling the dark liquid glide down his throat, warming him from the inside out like some sort of lifeline. It was hot and bitter and just what he needed. "Okay, you can take me home now."

Corbett let out a single bark, which the three of them took as his agreement and headed back towards the car.

[undercoverwizardfanfiction]

A Winter Night: A ROTTMNT Holiday story

Rating:G

Word Count;2358

for: @snakeeyesdraws

Characters: Donnie, Leo, Kendra

pairings: [takes breath, pulls out sword] LISTEN

update; i accidentally uploaded the draft the first time ^^’ i fixed though this is the finished version

An overtly saturated neon sign of a Santa selling sandals catches him in the corner of his eye. He uses his forearm to protect his aching eyes as he passed the sign. When he passes the blinding neon of Santa, the turtle takes a deep breath, a soft mist escaping his mouth. Honestly, he is grateful the streets aren’t more crowded. But not for his slowly numbing hands. He stuffs his hands into his unlined pockets and moves forward. Grateful more than ever that he had updated Shelldon with a heating unit so he didn’t have to weigh himself down with a heavy coat. It was making the walk to Hueso’s a bit more tolerable. He’d have to remember to update his brothers’ gear to include a heating unit like his. Course knowing them they’d probably use it to heat up marshmallows in their pockets and that was a mess he was NOT going to clean up for-

He is so wrapped up in the nightmarish scenario of having to clean marshmallows out of circuitry when a loud shriek of anger followed by a trash can flying past his line of vision causes him to jump on one foot with a shriek of fear

“Stupid AIDEN!!”

It takes Donnie a moment, and another trash can flying by his vision to realize he is not the source of anger, or in danger. He blinks and peers down the alley before having to duck in time for another trashcan to get stomped in the middle with enough strength to crunch it in half before, in a mixture of amazement he blinks. “Kendra?”

In a feral rage Kendra stomps a trashcan nearly in half before swerving around and glaring at him snarling. Her thick purple hair twisted in half ragged tangles, her beret lay on the ground as though she had thrown it to the ground before deciding that wasn’t enough to help vent her rage. Her half-crazed eyes narrowed at him. “What do YOU want?!” she bites and for a moment Donnie wishes he hadn’t stopped, “Are you here to ruin my day again?! Wreck my plans?!”

“Um,” Don blames his lack of ability to come up with a snappy come back on his even more urgent need to survive the next five seconds, or at least not end up like that trashcan. ”Are you doing something that should be stopped?”

Kendra narrows her eyes at him. “NO.”

“Do you HAVE an evil plan that I should stop? Again?”  With a snarl Don worries he might have said the wrong thing.

But then she lets out an angry sigh, “No, not now.”

“Um.” He really didn’t want to end up a Donnie shaped hole in the wall, “Then, no?”

Kendra narrows her eyes at him, Donnie could barely see the little puffs of steam burst out of her nose like a bull trying to figure out if he was a matador worth charging. But then she lets out an angry growl, ”Fine, go away then,” she says, crouching down and yanking the trash can back into a standing position kicking at it a few more times to try and un-dent it. Donnie glances back at the trash cans in the road and sighs. He pulled off his gloves, cursing the fact that he didn’t bring any extra rubber gloves, and pulls one of the trash cans off the street. Kendra glares up at him before eyeing the trashcan in confusion, “What do you want?”

“To not see cars hit trash cans? Is that supposed to be a hard question?” he asks, again berating himself when Kendra narrows her eyes at him, but lets him stand his trash can next to the one she had ‘undented’, she doesn’t thank him when he drags by the other one too. But to be honest he doesn’t really expect it. But he does finally notice that, even though she traded out her leggings for sweatpants, she’s lacking her purple dragons' jacket and is wearing a dark grey sweater and boots. All signs indicated she had not been planning on being outside in December and is using all the anger she had been trying out on the trash cans to not shiver, “Where are you going?”

“What’s it to you?” she demands.

Donnie raises his hands in mock surrender. “Honestly? I was just trying to help but if you’re going to keep acting like a jerk, I’ll-“ he wasn’t sure how he was going to finish that thought. ‘Walk away?’ ‘Blog about it angrily later?’ But it ended with someone shouting ‘heads up’ and something hard slamming into the back of his head, his vision exploding in bright colors and the breaking of a snowball contacting with his head. Off balance he finds his world spinning and himself on his knees, hands holding his head trying to make sense of the pain and his disorientation.

“Hey!” Kendra’s voice was far away, but that could be ‘cause she had stormed over to yell at the kids who had thrown the snow ball. “The hells your problem?! That was basically an ice ball you weebs.” Don could barely make out their mumbled sheepish apology. He pulls off his hat and touched the soaking bandana underneath. Any hope that it had just been snow went out the window when he drew his bloody fingers off his head.

“Holy-“ Sounds like Kendra was back, his vision was spinning so bad that he assumed the spinning purple mass by his side was her. “Hey how many fingers am I holding up?!” she said holding out her hand. He could barely make out her fingers but gave a weak, “Four?” with strength surprising for someone her size, she took his arm and lifted him to his feet, pulling his arm over her neck, “Come on there’s a hospital nearby-“

“NO,” he answers quickly.

“Are you kidding me you’re HEAD is BLEEDING.”

“And I'm a giant talking turtle which do you think will matter more to a hospital staff?!” He often wondered how Yokai managed in the city without access to a hospital. He had been meaning to ask Hueso about-. He blinks, there was no way he could let Kendra take him home. But he was already close to the pizza place “I have a place I can go. But you can’t go with me-“

“Again, your HEAD is BLEEDING,” she snaps. “I’ll take you where you need to go but I won't get any closer got it?” Donnie knew she wouldn’t take no for answer and only answered with a sigh and a nod. She pulls harder on the arm wraps over her neck and took more of his weight. Despite their height difference he barely touches the ground which only added more to the feeling of being disoriented.

“Thanks,” he muttered weakly.

“Don’t thank me til we get there.”  Donnie struggles to keep his eyes open but his swirling vision forces him to keep his eyes closed, a hand slaps his face lightly. “Hey stay awake nerd.”

“Pot calling the kettle-“ Donnie bit off the end of his statement as he tried not to dry heave. He could feel Kendras frozen bare arms through his coat and feels even worse for being out in the first place. “H-Hold on,” he says, stiffening his legs up to drag her to a stop. He manages to pry her arm off him long enough to peel his coat off leaving him in his long sleeved dark pink Atomic Lass shirt. “You’re obviously cold.” As callous as he is sometimes, he finds it’s better to be honest than to dance around the subject, “Shelldon has a heating unit that’ll keep me warm.” Though it wouldn’t help his arms, he could handle a few blocks though. Thankfully his vision is returning to some extent, enough that he notices Kendra looking to his pack and for a moment Don struggles not to shift to put the pack out of her sight, “That’s Shelly right? Is he still mad at me for tricking him?”

“Oh definitely. He has a stack of crayon drawings dedicated to his revenge on you.” He feels the shoulders on his back tighten as though Shelldon was reprimanding him for revealing his secret plans.

Kendra lets off a small shrug “Yeah fair enough, I’d probably do the same thing” before smirking directionally at the pack, ”But for the record little buddy, blue prints are a much better way to plot out revenge.”

Don tries to grin before dizziness settles in again. Kendra must have noticed since she ducked under his arm. “Hold on nerd, keep talking to me.”

He manages a nod, mentally keeping track of their location. “Wh-what were you doing out here kicking trash cans?” he asked. “And who’s this Aiden guy who has you so mad? Not that it's any of my business, but I’m kinda hurt there’s someone out there you currently hate more than me,” he says with an added offended tone that makes her glare at him in confusion. ”I mean not to brag, but I sorta consider it a pride and joy to have an enemy worthy of my intelligence.”

Kendra narrows her eyes. “Please, he’s not worthy of my time,” she says through her teeth. “There’s this guy in the robotics club with us, Aiden. A loser who couldn’t tell a snickers from a soldering pen. There was a contest to submit the best blueprints, and who ever won would to be our project for the semester.”

“I’ve seen you build stuff on your own though. “

“That wasn’t the point,” Kendra lets out an angry huff, “I won, like I knew I was going to. But he got second place, I checked the points and he was twelve points away from wining. Twelve! The loser pretty boy who had his private tutor help him.”

“But you still won-“

“-He shouldn’t have gotten that close. I did all my work by myself. Didn’t ask for help, spent nights coding and drafting. I should have left him in the dust a broken swaddled nerd with broken dreams. But no. I made sure he knew how I felt about it, but the creep tattled on me. Freaking snowflake got freaked out because his blue prints ended up on his front porch on fire. Since when is that illegal.”

“I mean,” Don pauses, “I think always.”

“Anyway, I got kicked off the club and that’s why I'm out here.” She shrugs. “If my Dad or step mom saw me getting this mad then they’d make me do the ‘breathing exercises,’” she said with air quotations, “Being all ‘Kendra we’re worried about you’ ‘Kendra we love and support you we just don’t want to see you go down a bad path’ and ‘Kendra where do you keep getting access to all this fire!?’” Her frustrations forced her to kick out at a sign they passed but thankfully not hard enough to knock it over, “So as soon as I’m done helping you, I’m going to see my Mom. She’s the only one who gets me.”

Donnie blames his concussion on being so surprised Kendra had a mom but tried to keep it off his features. But judging by the quiet scoff from Kendra he hadn’t done a very good job, "How about you Greeny? Why did you come out here if you already had a concussion? Don’t pretend like you didn’t have one, I saw the bandages when I was checking your scalp. You already had a head injury before you got hit in the head.”

Figures his hat would blame him, and his own disorientation for forgetting that Kendra had checked his scalp. “It's complicated.”

“More complicated then plotting revenge on a spoiled white boy in a Vanilla Ice t-shirt?” she says in a tone that tells Donnie she’s trying to make a joke. And despite his best efforts not to, he snorts slightly, “No, I'll agree it’s not that complicated.” But it still feels weird to share with a certified enemy who once tried to steal the Spirit of Labour Day (don’t ask can’t explain). Thankfully she doesn’t rush him as he tries to collect his thoughts. “I got into an argument with my brother.” He still doesn’t want to let her in on too much information. “My brothers are all protective of each-other but he's’ protective in a way that makes me nuts. He thought it was too soon for me to go out with this whole situation,” he said gesturing to his head bandage, “And I disagreed. Except I didn’t really do it in the best way.”

“I think I know what that means,” Kendra says. “Did you say something bad?”

For a moment, it takes all of Don’s remaining mental energy to not think about Leo’s face, watching his concerned features fade away to one of hurt. So hurt in fact he hadn’t even called after Donnie when he stormed out. He lets out a sigh. “I did. I wish I had a reasonable excuse for it, but to be honest I don’t like feeling like I'm depending on people. I don’t like feeling like he’s always concerned about me. I especially don’t like him being right about it.”

“Sucks when it feels like you’re under-appreciated huh?”

“Yeah.” He could make out a familiar sandal store that housed Hueso’s alley. “We’re here,” he says.

Kendra looks around, and for a moment Donnie is concerned Kendra is going to insist on taking him ‘inside’ but she ducks from under shoulder. “You sure?” she asks, “I can take you further.”

“I’m good, thanks though.” He tries to give her a confident smile but his lips only twitch in response. She gives a half shrug before she starts pulling off his coat. “Keep it. You have a long way to walk and I still have Shelldon to keep me warm.”

“Thanks,” she says pulling the coat back on. “I’ll catch you later Greeny,” she says. She looks like she's’ about to walk off when she pauses. “But for the record, it still must be nice to have brothers who have your back.”

“It is.” Don nods. “And honestly Aiden sounds like a little bitch.”

For the first time since their strange encounter began Kendra put on a full smile. “Thanks,” she says before walking off.

(#)(#)\/(#)(#)

Leo didn’t snore.

So when his phone went off amongst his makeshift ‘pillow floor’ in the living room he did not ‘snort’ awake. He made a strangled noise before sitting up. Patting his sweatpants and hoody pockets before diving into the mass of pillows. Breaching a moment later like a whale with his phone in his teeth. Hueso’s ID is flashing across his screen. With a scoff he answers. “For the last time BONE man I don’t work today-“

“First of all, that is NOT how you politely answer a phone,” Hueso starts with a snap of his teeth. “Second that’s not why I'm calling. Your brother is here with me.”

Leo blinks, he blames his previous hibernated state on why it took him so long to remember which brother had left the lair. “Donnie? Is he ok?” he said already going to his room and looking for his sword under his bed.

“He is alright, but it looks like he got hit on the head pretty hard-“

That’s all it takes for him to charge out of his room, lingering only long enough to grab the toolbox he used for a first aid kit, and grabbing his portal sword from the kitchen (vaguely remembering he had used it to cut some cheese for his peanut butter and cheese grilled sandwich earlier) and slicing the sword down to activate a portal to Hueso’s office. Without saying bye, he hangs his phone up and jumps through.

The aforementioned skeleton, who had been glaring at his phone as though offended Leo had hung up on him, gave a shriek as the turtle appears by his side. “BAH! Leo, I hate it when you-“

Leo immediately tuned him out when he saw Donnie laying on Hueso’s couch with an ice pack over his forehead, he hurried forward and knelt down. “You ok buddy?” he asks.

Donnie looks up at him from under the ice pack with a weak smile. “I don’t know, are you really uglier than the last time I saw you or is that my head talking?”

Leo couldn’t help but grin. “I thought brain injuries were supposed to make people nicer,” he says. He turns to the toolbox and starts going through the first aid supplies inside. “Thanks for letting him rest. In your office,” he tells Hueso as he sets aside a pen light and some new bandages.

“Why wouldn’t I? Out of your brothers he’s most definitely my favorite.”

“Wait you have a favorite?” Leo looks to him. “Then who's your least favorite?”

After a pause, Hueso gives a wide and strained grin. “I will leave you two to it. If you need me just call me,” he says before ducking out quickly.  

It’s only then that Leo turns his barely contained worried energy on Donnie “What happened? Who did this? Do you have their address and sleep schedule-“

“Leo,” Don starts in a pained voice, “Please, my head feels like someone tried to split it with an ax. It was an accident. Some kids hit me in the head with a snow ball.“

Leo was about to start on another tirade of questions when he forced himself to take a deep breath, “Yeah, ok, I'm sorry,” he says. Also trying to ignore Donnie’s missing coat. He looks back to his supplies and pulls out a pen light. “I’m going to check your pupil dilation, but only if you're up for it.” He waits for Donnie to give a slight nod before he lifts the pen and carefully pushes the ice pack away from his eyes. Using his thumb to cover Don’s opposite eye without actually touching him, with a flash the pupil constricts and dilates as it should. He does the same process to the other “Well that’s good at least,” Leo says. “How’s your vision?”

“Spinning, but I think that’s from the pain.”

That would make sense. The red slider turtle rose to sit on the edge of the couch, carefully unwrapping Don’s scalp as gently as he can, checking his facial expression for any signs of increased pain before he lets out a sigh of relief. “It's just a surface bleed. It doesn’t look like the actual injury itself reopened.”

“That’s good,” Donnie says with a soft sigh. “You’re doing a good job.”

“I had a good teacher.” Leo made sure to give Donnie a soft smile that the turtle barely returns. “Let me just change the bandages and we’ll head home when you feel up for it. Maybe we can order some pizza; I've had a monster craving for anchovy and chocolate syrup pizza for days-“

“I was wrong.”

Leo blinks, pausing from unwrapping the new bandages with his hands. It takes him longer than he should to realize what Don’s apologizing for and when he does, he only returns to digging through his kit. “You were a little right,” Leo says quietly putting aside a bottle of alcohol, “I mean it's kinda right, right?? You're usually right-“

“No, Leo.” Donnie tries to sit up but fails to get up more than a few seconds before Leo’s grip on his arm forces him back down. “Leo I was wrong. I was angry, my head was killing me I would have said anything to hurt you. You don’t mess everything up-“

“Except I do?” Leo lets out a soft laugh. “I mean I do. Between the minotaur's pizza and Big Mama I'm surprised I get anything right-“

Don’s hand grabs his shoulders and before Leo can stop him, the soft-shell forces himself into a sitting position with pure grit alone (judging by the pain filled grimace on his face, “Would you listen to me?!” Donnie demands shaking him by the shoulders, “I shouldn’t have even said it but I would have said anything. I was angry at feeling so helpless and dependent. I was angry because you were right for trying to stop me from going out. I did need your help and I shouldn’t have been so difficult. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-“ his last sentence is interrupted with a sob that helps him notice the tears running down his face. Donnie lets out an aggravated huff as he presses the heel of his hands against his streaming eyes to help spare his dignity in some way.

He feels the couch shift as Leo shifts closer, wrapping his arms around him. “Ok, ok you were wrong. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing Leo,“ Donnie manages to say from his brother’s shoulder. “I’m the one apologizing not you, idiot.”

“Alright, alright I apologize for apologizing. You were wrong I was right. Is that what you want to hear?” he asks. Don nods into his shoulder. Leo rests his cheek on Dons’ shoulder rubbing his shell for a few moments as Don’s erratic breathing finally starts to calm down.

After a few seconds Don lets out a small sigh, “Damn it, I was doing so good too. I can't even tell anymore if these are meltdowns or panic attacks.”

“As long as you don’t have to deal with them alone when you don’t want to, that’s all I care about.” Leo gives him a final squeeze before reaching up and taking Don’s shoulders, gently guiding him down to lay down again. “Ok buddy. I’m going to rewrap your head, and then I'm going to go order us some food and portal us home. You just relax ok?” He waits for Donnie to nod before Leo starts applying some alcohol to a cotton ball. “I’ll be honest though, I’m sorta surprised you made it here safely.”

Don for the first time since Leo entered Hueso’s office looks him with his tired blood shot eyes. A soft smile forming on his face as he relaxes. “Yeah,” he whispers. ”Me too.”

[xlady-saya]

I want this touch to be familiar [fic]

Relationships: andrew/neil, side aaron/katelyn

Summary: Deep down, Andrew knew he would always reach this crossroads, a time where the thought became too strong to ignore.

Going all the way with Neil. It's not something he can continue to avoid thinking about. When Andrew looks back to the days where he held Neil's hands down, when he never got off with him in the same room, he's forced to acknowledge how much he's allowed.

Not allowed. Welcomed. Wanted.

But that’s not all there is to it, and the desire to make a decision finally makes itself known.

Tags: first time fic, p*rn with feelings, relationship study, fluff and communication, multichapter 

Read on ao3! 

They're having a movie night when the idea sinks its hooks into Andrew's brain. He’s not blaming the Foxes, but their bad choices in films is the catalyst to a milestone Andrew didn’t think he’d have to deal with so soon.

In a swift motion, he brings the hand that's not on Neil's thigh to itch at the back of his own skull, unsettled. He almost thinks he should ban himself from these get togethers, if only to avoid these ideas from taking root. Though, if he's being more honest with himself for once, he'll admit it's not the first time it crossed his mind.

It's possible that's the problem entirely.

No, this idea is more comparable to a mosquito, swarming around in his head and beating against the grooves at random points in the day. It's so powerful, so persistent, it's like this one mosquito is a whole swarm, poking around the ridges in an indecisive process to figure out where it finally wants to dig in.

The movie night is just the point in which it finally latches on and doesn't let go.

It's a predictable action film; Andrew doesn't understand why every director in Hollywood keeps trying to recreate James Bond, but he stopped caring about the movie two minutes in. Neil is boneless and relaxed from the shower they shared after practice, fingers drumming beats against Andrew's wrists while his brow furrows at the film. It has enough explosions and suspense to keep Neil somewhat entertained, though Andrew suspects the focus is mostly due to Neil trying to pick apart the inaccuracies of it all.

Most of the time, Neil ends up staring at Andrew for a majority of the film. Andrew finds it easier to not mind in the darkness, where he can feel the brightness in Neil's eyes instead of actually seeing it.

Essentially, this is the only reason he comes to movie nights.

He's almost at the point where he's ready to ignore the thing completely, along with the Foxes’ scathing commentary, but then the scene comes on.

It's not hard to see coming, but as crude and rough as the Foxes are, their movies don't often include sex scenes. Andrew isn't usually bothered by this type of thing, but it does nothing for him. He's neither repulsed or intrigued; the man isn't his type (or Neil, his brain says, unhelpfully), and the scene isn't aggressive enough to feel like assault.

No anger or heat surges under his skin as the slow orchestra plays, the woman's dress falling to the floor in what he's sure is supposed to be a good shot but has been so overdone it's pointless. Suddenly there's skin, and chests, and the actress' loud gasps turn into louder moans.

It's obnoxious, how fake it sounds, the camera angle cutting to show just enough in between movements.

"Ughhh," Nicky groans, and Allison turns to give him a look. Nicky sags in his chair even further just to spite her, almost falling out of it. "Why do they always do this? I don't need to see two straight white people suck face and bone in every movie! What is this doing for the plot?"

Aaron's head perks up, and he pauses his mid mouthful of those stupid chips Katelyn got him. "What's wrong with straight white people?"

"Everything."

Matt raises his third beer of the night. "Cheers bro, I'll drink to that."

Aaron looks to the wall, as if it will offer him anything better than his current company.

Andrew's eyes fly back to the television, right at the moment the hero slots himself between the actress' legs.

The swarm in his head digs in.

Andrew's hands tighten in the couch cushion, but he keeps the hand on Neil's thigh steady so he won't notice. Neil can be so perceptive when he wants to be, when it comes to Andrew specifically. It's infuriating, sometimes. Andrew never asked to be known so well, yet here they are.

Neil cracks a smile at Nicky and Aaron's fighting, more fond of it now than anything, and Andrew tracks the curve of it with his eyes. On screen, the spy starts thrusting.

"It's romantic!" Allison counters Nicky's claims, and he chucks a pillow at her with a surprising amount of force. Some of the feathers float out.

"They met not even a day ago!"

Aaron's chips are forgotten, which is about as serious as his brother gets nowadays. "I think you've hooked up with dudes you've met within an hour, you asshole."

"This ain't about me."

It's at this point Neil decides to speak, his brow arching in a way Andrew is pretty sure he didn't do prior to starting their this. Andrew's eyes fly up to catch it, and he realizes he'd been admiring the slope of Neil's neck, the discoloration where his hair meets his nape. "Honestly Nicky, what right do you have to talk about plot? Didn't you make us watch that terrible beach movie last week just because you liked the actor?"

Off to the side, where they're trying to become siamese twins, Dan and Matt chime in with some 'ooo's and air horn noises. They’re loud enough to startle Kevin from whatever he’s texting Thea about, and Allison’s cackle follows. Renee’s smile has a slight sharpness to it, the evillest she can look nowadays.

Andrew can't be bothered by the antics; his focus keeps returning to the movie, and the fact is nearly enough to startle him. But he stays still, calm, and doesn't give anything away. It's the best defense he has for the war about to rage inside him. His mind, two seconds from overdrive.

"Et tu Neil?" Nicky sniffs, and then the actress has some kind of orgasm, since she makes a noise akin to a dying bird.

And, because when is it ever about the love interest, the man keeps going, chasing his own release. Andrew's throat feels scratchy.

Andrew spares a look at Neil's face, and finds the striker's attention divided between the screen and Nicky's ramblings. Andrew doesn't care about whatever Neil says in return, he's too set on the slide of Neil's tongue over his bottom lip, the heat of his skin under his palm. Andrew moves his hand more towards Neil's inner thigh, and his breath hitches when Neil's legs widen on instinct for him.

The idiot isn't even aware of it.

Andrew would only need to slide his hand deeper to graze the place where he and Neil could be connected, as close as they can get. He'd be able to work Neil open, savor the twitch of Neil's hips.

Neil is mouthy enough in bed with how they do things now. Would he be louder? Uncontained?

Andrew allows himself to watch the rest of the scene play out on screen, the two rehearsed 'rough' thrusts, the groan of pleasure. But this time, it's hard to be disinterested. It's hard to not let his mind, so gifted with spinning fantasies on account of his cursed memory, put him in the spy's place.

What would Neil feel like, he wonders. Tight and warm probably, strong legs locking around Andrew's hips until his ankles are crossed and knocking against his lower back. Neil can get so greedy sometimes, even with his obnoxiously high consideration for Andrew's boundaries. When he's allowed to take, he's desperate about it.

Would Neil let him go that far? No, would he want to?

Does he want--

Andrew stops the train of thought there, but doesn't cut the journey short. He has no choice but to be stuck here now, and thus, Andrew can no longer swat the idea away like the pest it is.

Going all the way with Neil. It's not something he could avoid thinking about after a certain point. When Andrew looks back to the days where he held Neil's hands down, when he never got off with him in the same room, he's forced to acknowledge how much he's allowed.

Not allowed. Welcomed. Wanted.

Bile rises in his throat on instinct, and he squashes it down. Sex with Neil is not something he needs to feel terrible about, and he doesn't. It feels the opposite of terrible, and Andrew hasn't worked through all those troublesome thoughts yet. He can't pin a label to it.

He remembers when jerking off in the shower, mouth pressed to Neil's, had felt like a huge thing to give. Now it wouldn't be enough.

Neil touches him now, Andrew asks him to touch. He's used to Neil's weight on top of him and his hands sliding suggestively over his abs, his biceps. His hands are used to resting comfortably over the curve of Neil's ass, grinding against him.

And it hasn’t stopped there. He's had Neil's mouth on him, his blue eyes on every part of him as the striker sucked him off after a particularly good game.

Andrew had shut down the goal, and the look in Neil's eyes had made him feel far too much. Overwhelming, dizzying.

So they'd taken the next step, not without hiccups, not without caution, but they'd done it.

And that's the thing with Neil; once they cross a certain line, it's a snowball effect. They're incapable of going back.

Neil blew him then for the first time and suddenly Andrew couldn't get the image out of his head, Neil's lips around his cock, trying to adjust to get the best reactions out of Andrew, to make it feel good.

Neil, so stupidly determined about everything he does.

And Andrew, the fool he is, got used to it. He never expected it, because routine was not a yes, and some days he preferred to not be touched at all.

But now, when Neil sinks to his knees or asks to jerk Andrew off, the initial anxiety Andrew might've felt months prior isn't there. It's been burned away into something more concerning, addictive.

Because Neil will stop if he needs him to.

So, Andrew let go, and the floodgates opened.

Shared handjobs turned into frequent blowjobs, which turned into heavy petting without clothes. Andrew feels stripped down, raw, with how much trust he's given this single person.

Every now and again, he searches deep in his soul for some ounce of disgust, regret for any of it, and it makes him angry to find none.

The only thing that does make him angry is how good it feels, a natural reaction Andrew can’t just drop cold turkey. Yet, his body doesn't just enjoy the progressions he and Neil have made together, so does his mind.

Again, he derails the train there, not willing to admit it, and returns to the thought of plowing Neil into their mattress.

It was only a matter of time before he ended up at this crossroads, only so far he and Neil could go before reaching the logical 'next step.'

But, it doesn't have to be a step at all if Neil decides against it. If Neil doesn't want to, they won't. The itch in Andrew's brain is mostly due to the fact they haven't discussed it. He has no idea how Neil feels, if he even thinks about it in the way Andrew does.

There hasn't been time, but Andrew knows if he's reached this point he has to bring it up.

He's not afraid to; he and Neil aren't like that. It's about framing it in a way Neil's exy-only brain won't read into it wrong.

He needs Neil to be able to say no if that's what he needs, he doesn't want to imply he wants this from Neil, that there's a pressure to take it there. Because as stubborn and rebellious as Neil can be, unwilling to be pushed around, Andrew is a weakness.

So, Andrew won't accept anything from him other than the absolute truth. 'Always' doesn't exist with things like this.

The movie turns back into a mindless explosion show while the fantasy in Andrew's brain is paused, mostly because indulging in it feels wrong at this point. If it's something that'll never happen, there's no point letting it play.

What he already does with Neil is enough, more than enough. Andrew never thought he'd ever be like this with anyone, and he's still not used to it. His pleasure during sex came from control in the past, on being able to dictate how it all went, to touch without being touched and have the person like it.

Neil turns everything upside down; where control once stood undefeated, something else sits, unmovable. White-hot, blinding desire.

A danger, unacceptable.

Andrew's eyes rest back on Neil and the heat coiling in his abdomen subsides, softened by the unruliness of Neil's bangs and the glow against his cheek. That's another problem too, about Neil. Desire isn't alone.

But, Andrew sets that issue aside for now.

Feeling Andrew's pensiveness, Neil turns his head, blinking so slow Andrew can see the flutter of his lashes. He nearly pushes his face away.

He's not sure what Neil sees in his analysis; Andrew knows he can't read minds, but it's unsettling and calming all at once to watch him trace the wrinkles in Andrew's face. He asks himself if maybe Neil can feel the itch too.

Neil hooks his fingers over Andrew's lightly, and Andrew realizes all too late how tight his grip on Neil's thigh had gotten.

"Okay?" Neil asks, and fuck him for doing so, for catching Andrew slip. He curses himself for slipping at all, or maybe the better term is falling.

Andrew taps Neil's hand once, twice, three times, and squashes the urge to kiss him.

"Yes," he says, and it's not a lie.

It's not a lie, and he doesn't have the energy to think about why that is. He just knows that soon, it will become a bigger problem. He puts it to rest.

Instead, he watches Neil nod and smile, and when Andrew finally turns back to the television, his brain gets to work on the words he needs to say, and knowing how they’ll probably come up short.

--

Andrew's mind is a vault mechanism. When one part of the lock is cracked, there's usually another waiting behind it.

He hasn't realized it yet though, couldn't possibly, with Neil rutting in his lap.

Andrew grunts as his nails dig into Neil's hips, where the brunet's sweatpants are dipping dangerously lower by the minute, a consequence of the force of their dry humping.

He's not quite sure how they got this carried away in the span of ten minutes, but all Andrew knew then was this wasn't a bad day, this was a day where Neil could pin Andrew to the couch without consequence.

So he let him.

Neil is shirtless, scars on display along with hard nipples and a twitching abdomen, the heat building and building.

Because of Andrew.

The position should feel stupid, immature, maybe even high school, but Andrew's brain is swimming with a pleasure comparable to nicotine.

It's nothing he thought he'd feel before, because the weight of someone on him never used to lead to good things.

"Fuck," Neil breathes, hips stuttering against Andrew's and wiping the dangerous path away before Andrew can even take a step towards it. Neil gives a rough jerk, barely able to fight Andrew's grip, but he prefers when Neil works for it. He doesn't let up, because he knows the striker is nothing but determined.

Neil whines, surging forward to pant into Andrew's mouth. He growls; part of him was enjoying the show and doesn't appreciate the interruption. The other part of him can't get enough of Neil's mouth, the wicked tongue pulling his out and sucking on it like it's another part of Andrew's body.

Neil is always so scatterbrained; he'd do it all if he could.

Andrew's breathing comes out heavy, wet, and they've fallen out of position quite a few times as a result of their desperation. Neil's clothed cock is barely grazing Andrew's now, but he doesn't have the will to stop Neil from moving so fast, so needy. There's a small wet spot forming against Andrew's pant leg, and he watches Neil fight to keep his head from lolling back from the dizziness of it.

It makes something smug burn through Andrew's chest, seeing Neil sigh and whisper incoherent nothings which don't amount to much more than 'yes' and 'more, Andrew, more.'

Andrew leans back into the couch cushions and bucks up, earning him a sound so Neil he can't take it. It's a cross between a gasp and a groan, devolving into another string of curses. At this point, Neil's pants are low enough to reveal the coarse hair of his groin, the criss crossing scars almost as tantalizing as the hardness pressing against Andrew's leg.

Andrew suddenly doesn't have enough hands. He's torn between pressing his palm over the scars, keeping Neil under his grip, or digging into Neil's hair to expose the column of his throat.

This is why this kind of thing can still get a bit overwhelming, but not in a discomforting way like it used to.

It's still fairly new, the dry humping. At first, it had started as slow and experimental grinding in the morning, Neil pressed up against Andrew's front while he rocked forward. The first time, Andrew had to stop, too taken by the newness of it, the unfamiliarity.

He hadn't had time to really pick it apart and think about why he was doing it or if it made him anything like them. If pressing Neil down and chasing his own relief didn't reveal something uglier about him.

By that point, he'd had Neil's hands on him on a regular basis, jerking him off and pulling him into his throat. Those things were becoming less daunting.

He's used to letting Neil get him off now, to getting off in front of him with his own hand. It's just...this is so much more shared, intense. Andrew isn't quite used to it, but the movie night sits heavy in the back of his head still, and he thinks it might make a little more sense now.

The process to get here had been the same, a slow evolution; they'd use grinding as a means to get worked up, to cause friction before moving onto blow jobs or heavy makeouts. It turned into a thing when Andrew didn't have the patience to separate from Neil for even a moment. Humiliating, but in the heat of the moment he hadn't thought twice. He remembered asking for his yes between biting kisses before humping Neil into their bed, and when he came, the rush had been blinding. The heat running through his veins carried all through his spine and down to his toes, intensified even more by Neil's body jerking against his.

Close, intimate.

And so very, very close to the real thing.

Before that thought threatens to ruin everything, Andrew bucks up again and Neil's moan blocks the path again.

Andrew is so hard it's painful.

Before Neil can press down in kind, Andrew tightens his hold until Neil can do little more than squirm, leaving them stuck like that, with Neil's hands making a mess of Andrew's hair and unable to give them the sweet friction. Andrew rubs circles into Neil's hip bones until he hears the sigh he's looking for.

Watching Neil blink, eyes blown wide in a desire fueled haze, makes Andrew lick his lips in anticipation.

Neil blinks down at Andrew, not really seeing, breath stuttering as he fights the grip. "H-hey--"

"Hey," Andrew replies, feigning innocence. It's not effective, when one of his hands snakes around to Neil's back, looking for any trace of discomfort or even a silent 'no.' When he finds nothing but want, he presses his fingers down onto Neil's lower back to force him forward. Neil's back arches like a cat, like Andrew pulls all the strings. "Move up."

Neil exhales shakily as he shifts, legs spreading and putting him back to where they initially started. Andrew takes the time to rid himself of his jacket, way too warm, and unzips his jeans to help the tightness.

Neil's gaze flies to the prominent bulge under Andrew's boxers instantly.

"Right there," Andrew says with his hands back on Neil's ass, squeezing the muscled flesh greedily and trying hard to avoid the thought of spreading him open like this. He aligns Neil so their cocks are settled against each other again. It's a struggle for them to stay still; Neil leans forward so Andrew's neck muffles most of his groan, and sucks on his pale skin. Andrew's voice is nothing short of strained when it comes out. "That's it."

Neil smiles when he pulls back, and Andrew has to look away. Idiot, always so pleased with proof of Andrew's unraveling. "Can I--"

"Yes," Andrew growls, and he meets Neil halfway. One hand flies to the back of Neil's neck, digging into the hair at his nape to pull him close again. His skin is scorching to the touch.

Neil doesn't hesitate. His hips move fast as his hands dig into Andrew's biceps, intent on chasing the orgasm for both of them. Small, jagged whimpers leave his mouth with every thrust, his cock brushing right against Andrew's. Neil is practically bouncing, and it doesn't take long for Andrew to realize he's moving too, just as fast, just as rough. The head of his cock pokes out of the slit in his underwear, smearing precum on Neil's pants.

"Oh fuck, fuck," Neil moans at the same time Andrew starts grunting with each jerk of his body, unconcerned with the volume. If anyone knows what's good for them, they won't be back early. Andrew's vision starts to blur, his movements less coordinated, breathing loud. He's close, so close and the heat pooling in his abdomen makes his head swim.

It should unnerve him, this lack of control, this animalistic urge to keep going, take and take. But Neil looks the farthest from afraid above him; he's matching Andrew in his entirety, grunting loudly and rotating his hips in just the right way for them to feel every inch of each other. His hands are dutifully clutching Andrew's shoulders, unwilling to move. Because Neil knows, he knows this is Andrew's most vulnerable moment, seconds from orgasm. No matter how close to the edge they are, Neil won't risk Andrew's discomfort, he won't let Andrew's pleasure be overridden by shock or the disregard for his boundaries.

Andrew hates him, he hates how Neil is the only one who will ever make him feel this way, because now no one else is good enough.

In more ways than sex.

Andrew snarls from the anger of it all, from how inaccurate it feels to call it that. He brings a hand up to wipe the sweat off Neil's brow, pushing aside his bangs so he can see those eyes for all they are, the ring of blue a bottomless pool Andrew no longer tries to escape.

Neil's mouth falls open from whatever look is on Andrew's face, and he's no longer able to keep his eyes open, throwing his head back as his orgasm rips through him. He trembles in Andrew's arms, and Andrew feels the warmth of Neil's cum against his cock, even through his sweats.

Andrew's arms lock around Neil's waist as he thrusts up harshly, and in the last split second before he comes, he imagines they're not just dry humping like dogs in heat. He allows himself to imagine he's inside Neil, that they're as close as they can possibly be, and it makes Neil feel good instead of pained.

Andrew comes, but it's with an unexpected dose of shame. Despite that, he comes hard. It's full body, enough to make his shoulders shake, his breath hitch. It's that same tingling sensation running over him, stronger at the points where he and Neil touch.

It doesn't make sense to him.

He hadn't meant to let his brain go there, to let the fantasy rear its ugly head again, but it had felt so...

He didn't have the right to think about it without Neil's yes, not in this case. Because it means some fucked up part of him craves it, needs to take it.

He won't, he won't do that. He knows he won't, but then why does it make his stomach swirl?

Andrew sighs before going rigid, and Neil must take it as his cue to separate. That's one thing which hasn't really changed, Andrew's need for space. It's gotten better, he can normally stay pressed against Neil for ten or so minutes, and it's weirdly comfortable. However, eventually his brain will begin to overthink or itch with a need for room, and he'll have to push away.

This immediate stiffness is unusual though, and Neil catches it so fast Andrew should feel vulnerable about it.

Neil goes still as soon as he senses something is off, and removes his weight from Andrew in a blink. He's never seen Neil move so fast away from him, not out of fear, but concern.

Neil is mistaken here though; he's not the one who's done something wrong.

Neil puts as much distance between them on the couch as he can, bringing his knees to his chest and only grimacing at the wet squelch of his pants.

His chest is still heaving, and part of Andrew finds excitement in that. He made Neil feel good, it's proven by his mussed up hair and swollen lips, the high blush. Neil waits, eyes scanning the lines of tension in Andrew's body, the soft parts of his face.

Andrew watches him for a long time as he thinks, trying to find evidence he's right, that he took it too far. Neil can't read his thoughts, but for a moment Andrew worries he can.

Did he feel it, Andrew's body claiming him, using him in a way Neil maybe has never thought of?

Andrew glares, but he knows Neil will be able to tell it's not at him.

Andrew is usually able to begin the long dissection of these issues in his own head, revealing the threads he can offer to Bee to pull at and untangle into something more manageable. But right now, he's at a loss.

They sit like that so long their breathing evens out, and only at that point does Neil reach out. He extends his hand forward, not commanding, but offering. Yes or no. "Andrew?"

Shit.

He hasn't moved in minutes. Time is never something he managed well in his head, always pulling him back to the past in a blink while the future pulled apart like dust, disintegrating before taking a full shape. He inhales shakily; Andrew hates to show so much, but this is Neil. They're alone. He scrubs a hand over his face in frustration, trying to bring it back to its blank state before he reaches out to pull Neil closer.

They're still not touching anywhere else, Andrew can't handle that yet, but it's enough of an acquiescence for Neil to understand the problem isn't him.

He moves to the cushion next to Andrew, his bare feet settling against the carpet as he waits for Andrew to say something.

And well, this is where he brings it up. There's no point in waiting, beating around the bush is useless and pointless and not something they're capable of doing.

Andrew's words come out blunt as ever as he stares into nothingness. "Before I came I thought about fucking you."

The harshness of the words, and how removed they are from any emotion should probably make any normal person flinch. Neil isn't just anyone.

Neil, for all his usual drama, doesn't react to that, and Andrew feels the ghost of relief. Once, Neil told Andrew his lack of reaction to otherwise terrible events made Neil feel better about them. Andrew hadn't really understood, but now he just might be seeing the logic.

Neil's gaze on him during their vulnerable moments typically makes Andrew want to jump out of his skin, far too exposed, but with this it's less difficult to plow forward. Neil stares at Andrew, as blank as he can manage, while still letting the curiosity furrow his brow.

Andrew wants to wipe off the sweat there.

He cracks his knuckles, mulling over the words and trying to find a way to say them where he won't have to admit too much. Unfortunately, it's impossible.

He scowls at the coffee table as he speaks, like the words are vile. "I've been thinking about it a lot lately. I haven't been able to stop."

Why can't he stop?

Because part of him can't help himself, is that it? He can't control himself, even after years and years of limiting every possible stimuli so he could.

If he sounds angry it's because he is; how dare Neil push him this far, so unintentionally. Yet even then, Andrew knows the blame is all on him. The irritated tremble in his voice should not fucking be there, just like the thoughts shouldn't be. He shouldn't have given ground enough to make such a confession, to make Neil think he's torn up and ugly.

Andrew should be a blank slate, but Neil is chips in the stone, splashes of paint which Andrew cannot scrub off.

He told Neil what he's always told Neil: the honest version of how he feels, even if he wishes he felt nothing.

Long before the movie night, long before he cares to remember, and he    remembers everything, he's thought of slotting their bodies together, of pulling Neil impossibly close so they're intertwined in every way.

At Andrew's aggravated scowl, Neil finally chooses to speak. The confusion is more obvious on his features now, the ring of blue reappearing and threatening to wash Andrew in waves.

"You don't have to stop," Neil says, like it's the simplest damn thing in the world.

What the hell does he know? He's not in Andrew's head, he's not--

"Neil--" Andrew almost growls, a warning Neil should be all too familiar with. Stop while you're ahead.

Neil is a very bad listener, with a short fuse to match.

"I think about it," the striker bites out quickly, almost challenging. Those blue eyes widen with the admission, rocking on the balls of his feet. Andrew's entire body freezes up, hell the world might have stopped for all he cares. Even Neil bites down on his bottom lip, as if to cut the words off, before realizing how stupid that would be. He knows how Andrew feels about regret, and he's not lying in this moment. Andrew would be able to tell. A few seconds of quiet pass, they hear some muffled music through the windows. Neil's voice is a silky whisper to his ears, despite how cracked it sounds. "I think about it too. So...there, stop putting this just on you. I think about it a lot so, you don't have to do...that."

It's so stupid, how Neil can remain so interesting even when Andrew's feeling this on edge. It's a welcome distraction for a second, before the words really sink in.

Neil thinks about it.

Viciously, Andrew steps on the small slug which resembles hope as it crawls through his brain. He ignores the mess in his pants as he turns to face Neil, sitting cross-legged on the couch.

Andrew raises a brow, daring Neil to elaborate on the that he's referring to.

"Hide it so I don't have to know," Neil supplies, waving his hand in the air. "Shoulder it all yourself like you always do. This way I've made it both of our problem."

Neil winces, no doubt scolding himself for the poor choice of words.

Andrew's face is back to a blank slate. "A problem, is it?"

That's certainly how he saw it, but having Neil echo the sentiment makes him feel more, which would be terrible enough, but the feeling isn't even good.

Neil's gaze is a freshly sharpened blade. "No. Not to me," Neil says, firm. "You know we don't have to, but--"

"But you think about it," Andrew echoes, unable to help it. The coils he tries to wrap around the realization are slippery and can't get a grip, so he repeats it. Neil thinks about it, the desire is shared.

What is he supposed to do with that information now? One step forward, two steps...somewhere.

Neil swallows, and the redness on his cheeks is oh so appealing to even Andrew's hazy mind.

Neil thinks about it.

But that doesn't mean they can just...do it. Andrew doesn't know if he can; the disconnect between what his body wants and what his brain can manage is a minefield and he's never wanted to scratch at gray matter so badly.

Briefly, he understands why Aaron values normalcy so much. Normalcy would allow Andrew to just be the horny college student he could've been, instead of having to deal with all these speed bumps and cones in the road to get to the ultimate goal. And even if he were to get there, there's a big chance he'd decide it's better to turn back around to prevent a crash.

But he is not Aaron, and he does not value normalcy.

He values--

"I do," Neil states, so understanding, and maybe a little flustered. Flustered, not scared, not unsure. "I like doing that stuff with you Andrew, but how it is now is good, more than good. Hell, that was so...wow. You know I've never felt this towards someone."

Neil's smile is so far away from what Andrew can handle he has to ruin it.

"Horny?" He says, and hates how even when he's deflecting the thought sends a shiver through him. The thought of Neil only wanting him, only giving himself to him. Andrew squashes the possessiveness, uncomfortable.

Neil gives him a look for that, but isn't deterred. "Technically yes, but you know what I mean."

Unfortunately he does, but that's even more uncomfortable to think about than the physical desire. Neil has never been shy about his feelings for Andrew, not since Andrew actually acknowledged their this and showed how he was going to make zero moves to push Neil away. Even if Neil did hold back his bluntness, he gives Andrew those fucking looks like he's the most amazing thing he's ever laid eyes on, not some delinquent with a crooked nose and a hostile disposition.

And still that can't be it. Neil's desire, like his feelings, are so intense they can't possibly be fake. The eagerness, the desperation with which he receives Andrew's advances...it's not the issue. Neil is trying to tell Andrew he doesn't need to feel pressured, like Andrew doesn't already know that.

He thinks he's getting closer to what his real problem is with it, but it's just out of reach. It's a shared desire, he checks that off. Neil thinks about it, another check. And Andrew...

No matter how he tries to kick it aside he wants it. His body craves it and his mind can't let it go. He wants and it's so nauseating in how it's not, instead it's light and tender and all things he is not supposed to be.

So, where is the issue? It's him, it's--

"Stop avoiding the truth," Neil says, and when Andrew looks back at him those pale blue eyes are intense, almost deadly. They pry Andrew apart, flaying the flesh from bones and seeing the rawness inside, like Neil has managed to pin down the anxious animal inside him with talons sharp as knives.

The words 'shut up' die on his tongue; what truth? What can Neil see that he can't?

Andrew doesn't have fears. He briefly entertains the idea that what bothers him is the fact Neil thinks about it and that means one day he'll really want it and won't be able to hold the urge back. If Andrew can't give it to him, if he decides he can't go through with this, Neil will be like everyone else, just someone who wants more than Andrew can offer. Then he'll leave.

But Andrew doesn't fear. And it would be stupid to fear; anyone who would leave for something like that simply isn't worth the time of day. Yet...yet...

Andrew thinks of life without Neil, and he remembers emptiness crashing down, an empty stadium, and true darkness.

Frustrated beyond all reason, Andrew retreats into the bedroom to change into clean underwear and sweats. There are no footsteps behind him, no annoyed sighs or disappointment in his wake. He hates how Neil knows how long he needs before following, how trusting he is, because he changes right in front of Andrew a few moments later, needing no boundary.

"There's no 'truth' in this to avoid," Andrew answers, delayed, as he tracks the curves of Neil's body, the scars making him feel safe and angry all at once. Angry at those who would hurt his person, safe knowing Neil doesn't shy away from the ugliness.

Neil shrugs as he sits on the bed, beckoning Andrew over. He follows, of course he does, it's automatic.

What he says isn't a lie; he hasn't figured out the truth of this. Neil grins at him, infuriating. "No, I just think you're avoiding thinking about it. Don't get me wrong, I have no idea what you're actually thinking about, I'm not a mind reader. But if something else weren't bothering you I don't think you'd be this antsy."

"I'm not antsy."

"I told you, I'm the better liar so you should stop trying," Neil says with a smile, kicking his legs out in front of him. There's bruises on his knees from their last game. Andrew reaches out to press his palm against them, frowning at the yellowish color; there was no helping the fall, but Andrew had still checked him out afterwards. Neil sighs into the touch, leans into it, and it hits Andrew that this level of vulnerability he's been given is not something he's ever asked for, but he couldn't let go of if he wanted to.

Can’t let himself betray.

"I haven't made up my mind," Andrew says, not like he has to. Neil is normally good at knowing when Andrew isn't ready to give his final answer, but something about this feels different. It makes Andrew say as much as he can. "I don't know yet if I can do it."

What he thought would be devastating to admit aloud feels more like one weight has been shed. Neil doesn't even react, apart from prying Andrew's hand off his knee to trace the veins on his wrist.

"That's okay," Neil whispers, and there's enough encouragement in the tone to make Andrew growl.

"Shut up."

Neil freezes, his fingers hovering over Andrew's knuckles, and has the audacity to squint at Andrew. The man always did have a death wish. "It is."

Andrew turns away, in what to others would read as a clear dismissal, the cold shoulder. Neil has never cared to accept those things.

"Andrew," Neil says, and it's with conviction this time. No gentleness. "I'm not going to...leave if we never do it, I don't care about that, I just care about you. But if it is something you want, it's a yes--"

Fury spikes.

Andrew bites back the auto-response of 'I don't care if you leave' because it's a deflection he won't bring into this. He doesn't have time to keep that wall of his intact during a conversation like this. Neil will fight it and see through it and it'll waste their time.

But honestly, screw Neil for seeing through Andrew so easily. For pulling out fears that shouldn't be there and aren't, they aren't.

When Andrew turns his scowl on Neil, the striker doesn't so much as flinch. Andrew is here, giving away too much, showing too much, and Neil takes all of it.

"That doesn't have to be your final answer," Andrew stresses, voice tight, and this time Neil does have the decency to look surprised. Those pretty eyes soften with it, and Andrew sees the exact moment he puts something together which Andrew hasn't yet touched. "We don't have to. That goes both ways, I won't take that from you unless you're 100% sure so you better be and fuck you if you don't tell me the truth when the time comes. And it's not going to be you letting me, or doing it for my sake, or some other half-assed reason. If you don't want to, we won't. "

If I can't, I won't.

And the only reason he wouldn't be able to is if...

Andrew feels a stone settle in his stomach, and almost grins from how amazingly stupid this all is. Bee would be so proud, him getting to this point, on the cusp of figuring out what the hell is going on in his head.

All of a sudden Andrew is tired, too much energy pulled out of him, a war of emotions, all for him to come to the obvious conclusion.

It always comes back to Neil.

And Neil seems to have figured it out too; he stares at Andrew for a long time, scanning his face, giving him that look, the one which burns Andrew from the inside. Warm.

"The next time one of them says you're soulless, I might have to fight them."

All Andrew's words, and Neil manages to find the sliver of realness buried in it. For a moment, Andrew thinks Neil will let it go, for Andrew's sake. But, he should know better. They're no longer at that point, and Bee would call that progress, but Andrew doesn't know what to do with it yet.

All he knows is that if Neil thinks he can soothe any of Andrew's thoughts, he will, no matter how many times Andrew tells him he doesn't need it.

It's quiet, when Neil finally speaks. "You wouldn't hurt me," he whispers into the small space between them. Andrew hadn't realized they'd gotten so close, but there's his forearm, pressed right against Neil's. No wincing, no queasiness.

Andrew starts to turn away, and Neil risks blocking him with his hand. Andrew's vision is all blue, Neil's bangs such a mess he wants so badly to push them back again. "You wouldn't hurt me Andrew, if that's what you're worried about. You couldn't. I trust you. Of course I want to, but it's not a deal breaker. Stop treating it like one."

Andrew doesn't move, it's amazing he can even look at Neil, but he can't stop. There's so much he could argue in return, lots to prove wrong. Neil doesn't know anything about this, he can't possibly get it, or know what he's really giving Andrew, or what he’ll want in the future.

Their future; another subject to flood Andrew's brain. Too much at once, too much.

And yet, Neil is a deadly weapon, except with Andrew the slicing wounds give way to blooms instead of blood.

Neil strikes. "If you decide it's a yes, and I come back and say no, would it be a deal breaker for you?"

Andrew twitches from the mere thought, which is as good as a full body jerk. Neil could say he never wanted to have sex again and Andrew wouldn't push, he'd stay. "No," he seethes, unable to keep it out of his voice. Neil goes right for the throat every time, making one of Andrew's arguments null.

As for the other...

"I want to," Neil says, and for once, he seems embarrassed. It's a rare thing on Neil, the worried lip, the giddiness. Like he's excited. It's not even about the sex, he's pretty sure Neil did this when Andrew first held his hand too. Andrew's stomach flips itself over in half, the bastard.

"You wouldn't be taking either," Neil says, and Andrew flinches internally. Hurting Neil...he could hurt Neil, he could-- "We'd be...sharing, like we always do. So you can stop beating yourself up over my decision, and think about yours."

In Neil speak: Do whatever you need to do to figure out what you need, I'll be waiting.

Andrew hates the assumptions, mostly because they're right. This is not something he can resolve with one conversation. The thought of somehow ruining this for Neil, for making his first time something horrible, is too much for him to unpack this quickly. Who knows how long it will take him to reach a decision, or what the decision will be.

Yet, Neil's here, telling him he doesn't care how long it takes, or where Andrew lands at the end of it. He'll be here, now and after.

What percent is Neil even at? The millions maybe. Andrew's blood boils before it comes down to a simmer, then fades completely. Andrew never asked to feel, but Neil is wearing him down everyday.

The thought repeats: Andrew doesn't know how to stop.

He clenches his fists, grabbing Neil's shoulder and forcing him down onto his side to lie next to him. Words won't work for him anymore, and he's not capable of touching or even kissing right now. But it's a concession, a thing he is learning to give without despising the weakness of it.

Neil gives a small yelp but goes with Andrew willingly, not resisting. His curls fan out on the comforter, one decorated with cats that Nicky gifted them. Andrew sighs; Neil has yet to make any sense to him, even when the entrance to the messy path ahead of him has cleared.

He'll need as much rest as possible to figure this out. It's too early to go to bed, but after all this Andrew needs sleep, and he hates how Neil being next to him has become the new normal.

"I fucking hate you," he says in the small margin of space between them, and closes his eyes before he can be blinded by Neil's idiotic smile. "Go to sleep junkie."

Andrew's memory feeds him Neil's smile anyways.

Neil sighs across from him, and Andrew immediately feels drowsy, like it's a spell over him. He falls into it, not resisting.

As the world fades in and out, the most important thoughts stay afloat, and he embeds them in his head. They're less like mosquitoes now, more like additional grooves.

Neil wants it, Neil is ready. There's no sense in Andrew dwelling on that issue further for now, so he bypasses the first lock of his mind. Of course, he was never so optimistic to think that was the only thing holding him back, and Neil pulled that out of him too.

The big issue, the one holding Andrew back. The striker's words flood his mind, blurred and echoed. 'You wouldn't hurt me.'

But is that the truth? There's only one way to find out, and Andrew isn't sure if it's something he's willing to risk. Neil never was and never will be someone fragile, but that’s not the point. That’s not what Andrew means.

Just the realization he has the power to hurt Neil with this, the way Andrew was hurt…it makes him shy away from any attempt.

After all, he decided long ago he wouldn't risk losing Neil, not for anything, returning words said on rooftops. And yet…Neil makes him itch to prove those things wrong.

He's not sure yet where to go from here, but he pushes it aside to think about later. He has as much time as he needs. With the first lock conquered, the tension in his shoulders relaxes. Neil thinks about it, wants it. So can Andrew.

Just like that, Andrew finally concedes; he lets the idea of want flood in.

This time, there's no guilt to be found. Neil, with all intentions, made sure of that.

--

[wheresmynaya]

Two Ghosts Ch.25 | Brittana

Merry Christmas in July! LOL

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & under the cut! 

The last day of practice before school lets out for Winter break has finally arrived and everyone’s relieved. The past week has been exhausting and really, with how heavy it snowed overnight, school should’ve been cancelled. Santana’s sure she wouldn’t be the only one celebrating an extra day off but because the school system kind of sucks, yet here she is pretending she isn’t freezing her ass off while the squad runs their drills. Afterall, it would be a bad look considering she was the one who made them shed their warm-up gear.

“Oh and Coach Sylvester would let you get away with that?” Santana had said with her arms crossed defiantly at the first sound of objection. “I don’t think so. Don’t forget, we were in your place once too. Lose them. If we had to suffer, so do you.”

Everyone grumbled about it until Santana threatened to double their burpees. Suddenly it was nothing but silence and compliance, just how Santana liked it.

She remembers Sue trying to convince everyone that the cold is only a figment of your imagination so quit complaining but the only thing that keeps Santana somewhat distracted is the meeting she has organized with Brittany after practice. She’s a mix of excited and anxious and a little nauseous, but she tries to remind herself that things are going to be fine.

“Cold?” Brittany smirks as she comes to stand next to Santana. She has her fists buried in the pocket of her Cheerios Alumni hoodie and her shoulders hunch a little as if she’s trying to use them to shield her ears. The tip of her nose is a little pink too and if Santana wasn’t so damn cold, she might’ve even cracked a smile at the sight at how adorable Britt looked.

“Honestly, it’s like they have the A.C. on in here. I don’t get it,” Santana grumbles lowly, eyes zoning in on the squad. “We might as well hold practice outside, probably wouldn’t know the difference.”

“It’s scientifically proven that colder temperatures help concentration,” Quinn answers.

“So you did this,” Santana says with a glare in Quinn’s direction.

Quinn just smirks.

Brittany stifles a chuckle, “It’s true though. Remember that one time Sue made us run drills in the snow? It was supposed to build our stamina or something?”

Santana scrunches her nose at the memory and grimaces, “That was excessive and borderline child abuse. I don’t know how she got away with that.”

“Pretty sure I still don’t have feeling in my pinky toe from that day,” Brittany frowns then perks up a little as she bumps her shoulders with Santana, “We did have a pretty awesome snowball fight afterwards though. Remember?”

Santana thinks back but doesn’t recall any snowball fights, only really awesome shower sex because Brittany had said, “I can see steam coming off this water but I can’t feel anything. Do you think I’ve lost all feeling?” Such a question led to Santana testing the theory of what Brittany could or couldn’t actually feel. Several mind-blowing orgasms later, it was safe to say Brittany hadn’t lost feeling in anything except maybe her legs but like…that was after the fact.

She doesn’t realize there’s a light blush covering her cheeks when she catches Brittany’s innocent smile. Her eyes though, they’re what give her away because they glisten with mischief. Santana can’t stop the smirk from growing at the memory.

“Yeah, that was a lot of fun. You just kept coming – with the snowballs, I mean,” Santana replies which instantly earns her a scoff from Quinn’s direction.

“Your subtilty still needs some work,” Quinn teases before she catches one girl step out of sync and calls out, “What was that, Denise? Get it together!”

Santana’s eyes dart to the girl and she watches as Denise apologizes before quickly falling back into line. The girls around her exchange disappointed looks before stepping up their precision.

Quinn eyes Santana questioningly, “Losing your touch, Lopez? Maybe if you weren’t so busy flirting…”

Santana’s surprised she didn’t catch the slip up herself, but her head has been in the clouds all day in anticipation for later. She catches Brittany eyeing her curiously too, but Santana brushes them both off, “Please. I was just making sure you were still paying attention. I can’t be doing all the work.”

Quinn laughs her off and turns back to watching the squad while Brittany’s gaze remains on Santana. It’s like an unspoken question is being asked so Santana gives her a wink in return, hoping to ease any of Brittany’s worry.

When it does, Santana goes back to counting down the minutes until practice is over. Since their impromptu date, there’s this feeling that has burrowed its way into Santana’s chest and has gotten heavier the longer it stays.

Hopefully what she has planned will make it go away.

\\

There’s something familiar about Brittany’s journey that leaves Santana feeling unsettled. At first all Santana could feel was guilt for not being around, for not reaching out sooner, for her Mexican Third Eye failing to foresee that Brittany was suffering.

Although Brittany told her what happened, she hasn’t dived any deeper than the surface and Santana finds herself question why that is. She knows how Britt works, she’s seen her put on this mask before. Brittany use to do it all the time growing up but apparently that hasn’t stopped.

While they were still dating, Santana remembers watching the light in Brittany’s eyes dim the longer she was away. They knew doing long distance was going to be tough while Santana was studying at Louisville, but she didn’t think it was going to be like that.

To say it was hard was an understatement, it was excruciating.

So much of their relationship was built on touch and to suddenly take that away? They didn’t know how to cope. Skype and phone calls weren’t cutting it and as much as Santana loved coming home on the weekends, she began to dread them. It was immense happiness on arrival then immense pain when she’d have to leave and that happened every visit.

The highs and lows had begun to take a toll on their hearts.

They both knew what they were doing wasn’t working, they just didn’t know how to fix it. They figured if they ignored it then maybe it would go away and everything would go back to normal. It would be like last Spring and they’d be happy again, but that was wishful thinking.

Really, she should’ve known: nothing bottled up stays that way for long.

It was during one of Santana’s visits to Lima that she realized Brittany had her mask on again, something she hadn’t used on Santana in so long. Santana tried so hard to pretend she didn’t see how Brittany was hurting, to hang onto that last thread of hope for them, but it wouldn’t be enough.

It wasn’t until Brittany’s mask slipped during that ridiculous club meeting at Breadstix that she told Santana how she really felt.

You don’t get it, you left me behind and it hurt.

Those word haunted her and she’d never forget the look on Brittany’s face as she said them. Yet again, she was the cause of Brittany’s pain and she couldn’t stand it. In an instant, Santana realized she needed to do something about this before something worse were to happen. Before they ended up hating each other, before a messy break up would tear them apart forever.

She was thinking about their future when she did it, at least that’s what she told herself for weeks after it happened. It’s the mature thing to do, she’d tell herself. She needed a reminder that this was a good idea, that her heart was in the right place, but sometimes good intentions just aren’t enough.

She made the decision for them and she’d be lying if she said she hasn’t regretted it ever since.

To see the Pierces do the exact same thing to Brittany years later just makes Santana feel even worse because she started this trend. They excluded Brittany from decisions that would impact her life under the guise of thinking they were doing what was best.

Then they just left her behind – just like Santana – and although Santana wasn’t there, she knows exactly how Brittany would’ve reacted.

Brittany would’ve put on her brave face – her mask – and she’d pretend that she wasn’t hurting inside. Brittany would’ve packed her things in silence, choke back the tears, and bottle up her feelings until she was alone. The Pierces wouldn’t have noticed a thing – they never did – and they’d go about the move like nothing was wrong, like they hadn’t just left Brittany behind.

She’d carry the weight of her pain all the way to MIT where she’d bury her head in her books and her studies with complete tunnel-vison. She’d keep it bottled up and store it away on the shelf next to any feelings that related to Santana because Brittany was stubborn like that sometimes.

As much as Santana couldn’t stand it, she couldn’t blame Brittany for it either. When everyone’s already made their mind up about you, it’s kind of hard to break character. Some would even say it’s pointless, but when it came to shedding that mask and being vulnerable, they were each other’s exceptions.

At least, they were supposed to be.

And maybe that’s something that they have to get reacquainted with? She’d rather have a conversation about it rather than Brittany’s mask slipping again. The thought of wanting a conversation surprises Santana, maybe she really has grown?

More than anything, Santana just wants to assure Brittany that she’ll be whatever Brittany needs her to be. She wants to say all the right things, for Brittany to feel loved and cared for and to never feel abandoned again, but Santana struggles with finding the words.

The furthest she ever gets is picturing the inside of a familiar choir room and it confuses her at first.

It’s the place she and Brittany fell in love and it’s the place where they broke each other’s hearts more times than she can count. The choir room has always been a special place for them, a place where Santana can say things with music when words just aren’t enough.

And maybe that’s exactly what she needs?

It’s that thought that leads her to text Brittany the morning after their date to ask if she’d go with her somewhere after practice. Santana doesn’t actually run it by Mr. Schue first but she doubts he’ll mind. Cheerios practice always ran longer than Glee Club rehearsals anyway so she’s sure the room will be vacant.

If not, she doesn’t mind showing the newbies what a real OG looks like.

\\

“Great job, everyone!” Brittany cheers as the squad gathers in front of the coaches.

“Yeah, it was almost perfect,” Santana adds with a shrug as she inspects her nails. She has totally mastered stifling how proud she actually is of everyone – something she picked up from Sue – In order to push the squad harder to win her approval.

She thinks it’s been working well so far.

“Are we finishing early today?” Maddy asks almost in awe. She looks down at her watch then back up at the coaches before her, “We still have 15 more minutes.”

“Dude,” Alex scoffs, nudging at Maddy’s side with her elbow.  “Don’t question it.”

“Consider it an early present,” Quinn clarifies with a smile, “Everyone has worked very hard this year and we appreciate all your effort so thank you. We’re expecting to see that same energy once you all return from break.”

“Agreed. That Regionals trophy isn’t going to win itself,” Santana smirks and the squad erupts in applause and cheers, the girls pumping each other up for the upcoming competition in February but also the prospect of an early finish to practice. Santana finds herself smiling at their excitement until Brittany catches her eye.

She wears a coy smile, like she knows some secret Santana doesn’t and it makes her cock her head to the side. Brittany just chuckles and turns her attention back to the squad.

“Happy holidays to everyone and enjoy your break! We’ll see you in January,” Brittany says as the girls are dismissed to the locker room. The girls exchange holiday greetings with the coaches on their way out until it’s just the three of them left in the gym.

“So what time is good to come over?” Quinn asks as they collect their things. Santana had invited Quinn over for their early Christmas dinner which Maribel had insisted upon since Brittany wouldn’t be in town for the real thing.

Santana thinks about her impending meeting with Brittany, but she doubts that’ll take long. At least, she hopes it doesn’t. She hopes that it all works out perfectly and she’ll get the outcome she’s anticipating.

Santana shakes her head, realizing she’s getting stuck in it, and responds, “I think six is good? It won’t be a late one since Britt’s flight is early tomorrow morning.”

Quinn nods and she’s already got her keys in hand, “Okay, I’ll see you both later then!”

Santana watches Quinn leave then looks to Brittany who lifts the strap of her duffle to her shoulder. She looks back expectantly.

“So, where are we going?” Brittany asks and suddenly Santana’s heart is racing a mile a minute.

It’s all the more real now and she starts wondering if she really wants to do this but she’s quick to shake off the intrusive thoughts.

“I’ll show you,” Santana tells her then leads the way to the choir room.

\\

When they arrive at the choir room door, Santana notices Brittany hesitate. She can feel her stiffen almost and it makes Santana turn to her. There’s this slight crinkle in her brow, worry, as Brittany’s eyes dart from the window to Santana.

“What’s happening?” She asks.

Santana bites her lip at the sound of Brittany’s nervousness, “Trust me, okay?”

Brittany swallows but nods anyway and allows Santana to lead her inside.

Santana reaches for Brittany’s duffle and sets it down to the side with her own before directing Brittany to a chair in the second row. Santana settles into the spot next to her, turning her chair so that she’s completely facing Brittany while a girl from the band enters the room with her guitar.

Brittany’s eyes dart to the newcomer and Santana can see another question bubbling but Santana just reaches for Brittany’s hands.  

“You know how I’ve been trying to do things the right way this time?” Santana asks.

Brittany nods, “Yeah?”

“Well, I’ve had this…feeling and I want to address it because I think that’s the right thing to do.”

Brittany looks adorably confused as she tilts her head to the side, “What’s the feeling?”

“That’s just it, I can’t really explain it,” Santana starts with a shaky breath, “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said last night about your time at MIT and your parents and started thinking about what I must’ve been doing while you were going through that then I realized something.”

Just then the girl with the guitar started to strum a slow melody. The sound surprised Brittany, her eyes shifting from the music back to Santana as she began to sing.

I got the good side of things

Left you with both of the rings

My fingers danced and swayed in the breeze

The change in the wind took you down to your knees

As Santana sang the words, she could already feel the prickle of tears at the corners of her eyes. It was like her heart was breaking all over again with every word, yet simultaneously being put back together. She discovered a whole new world in New York while Brittany did the same at MIT but unlike Santana, Brittany grew apart from what made her happy.

Not just Santana, but also her love of dance and music. She had lost herself.

I got the good side of you

Sent it out into the blue

The people danced to the sound of your heart

The world sang along to it falling apart

During her time in New York, she always thought of Brittany but it was more so in the way that she hoped she was making her proud. Brittany was the one to send Santana on her way and she always thought Brittany was wiser than anyone ever gave her credit for, but Santana never considered what that did to Brittany’s heart.

To always be the one to lift the others up and almost never get that in return.

But I sympathize, and I recognize

And baby, I apologize

That I got the good side

The good side of things

Santana watches as Brittany cocks her head to the side and it’s almost identical to the last time they were here. She tries to focus on remembering the lyrics rather than Brittany’s glassy blue eyes. She hopes that Brittany can understand what she’s trying to say, how she’s sorry for not noticing her struggles sooner.

I got the good side of life

Traveled the universe twice

So many thoughts I wanted to share

But I didn't call 'cause it wouldn't be fair

Santana feels her heart beat wildly in her chest as she sings the last line and she can feel the words engrave themselves on her soul. She can remember so many times in the past that she wanted to break the silence just to hear Brittany’s voice. She could never bring herself to do it though and apparently she wasn’t the only one.

The crease in Brittany’s brow deepens but Santana just holds on tighter to her hands, a silent reminder that she isn’t going anywhere.

Then I got the good side of new

Found arms to fall right into

I know how it looked, it wasn't the plan

And some day I hope that you'll understand

I sympathize, and I recognize

And baby, I apologize

That I got the good side

The good side of things

Santana remembers the people she met over the years, how hard she tried to replicate what she and Brittany had but it just never worked. She even remembers her ridiculous scheme with Elaine and how Brittany saw right through it. It’s that thought makes her smile through the rest of the lyrics.

I'm sure we'll meet in the spring

And catch up on everything

I'll say I'm proud of all that you've done

You taught me the ropes, and you taught me to love

Santana remembers Sue’s funeral and how it was beneath a tree full of budding Spring blossoms that she first saw Brittany. She remembers learning how to be around Brittany again after so many years apart. The rocky start and the miscommunications, but they’d get past it eventually and they’d become friends again because when it’s Brittany it just comes naturally.

It doesn’t keep the tears from rolling down her cheek though. She closes her eyes, trying to ground herself, as she continues to sing.

But I sympathize, and I recognize

And baby, I apologize

That I got the good side

The good side of things

The last notes fade and Santana stops to inhale a steadying breath while the girl playing her guitar leaves the room. Brittany’s eyes have turned watery as she presses her lips together like she’s trying to keep from letting a sob escape.

Santana is first to pull her hand from Brittany’s and moves to wipe away the tears running down Brittany’s cheeks with the pad of her thumb.

“Why are you crying?” Santana asks but her voice is barely above a whisper.

Brittany croaks out chuckle and shakes her head.

“Because you have a habit of singing songs to me that make me sad and I don’t want to be sad,” She rubs away the rest of her tears, “Good things never come from it, not in here anyway.”

Santana feels winded by her honesty but she sits up straighter and moves closer to Brittany, “It’s not like that this time.”

“Are you sure?” Brittany asks looking unconvinced, “Because this all feels pretty familiar.”

“I promise, it’s not,” Santana bites her lip again and Brittany looks somewhat relieved. But Santana’s nerves are winning and she looks to her lap, “I just thought I could explain this feeling I’ve been having a little better if I did it through music. Maybe I’m a bit rusty.”

“You sounded beautiful. You always do,” Brittany moves to lift Santana’s chin, “I think I understand but tell me. What are you thinking about, Santana?”

“I guess I’ve been thinking about what I was doing while we were apart,” Santana shrugs with a sigh, “When you were at MIT, I was just starting at the Spotlight Diner. I was trying to make friends with my coworkers because breaking out in song is hard when you don't know anyone. Plus…I wanted to be likeable. No one there knew of my reputation and – just like you – I wanted to do something different. Be someone different.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Brittany nods, waiting for Santana to continue.

“I got so wrapped up in being jealous about you and Sam that I just wanted to prove to you that I could make something of myself. I was capable of finding my community just like you said. I tried to replace the feeling of missing you with other girls,” Santana admits, “But that didn't really work out.”

“I’m sorry,” Brittany replies but Santana just shakes her head.

“You couldn't know that because I never called, but after everything you said last night, I really wish I did. I had made so many assumptions over the years, done my best to fill in the blanks about your life but I never imagined that you would be struggling. Maybe I wouldn't have been able to do much, but at least I could've been someone you could talk to? We could've helped each other. At least we wouldn't have been so alone? It made me realize that I kind of got the good side of all this and I hate it. I hate that you felt left behind and I hate that you were hurting.”

“Honey, that’s way too much guilt to hold on to,” Brittany tells her softly and Santana feels like she’s cracking open all over again, “I know I’m the last person to say anything about it or regret, but when it comes to us…you don’t have to hang on to it anymore. I told you those things about my parents and my time at MIT because I wanted you to know me, the parts you were missing, even if they weren’t my greatest moments. I didn’t tell you those things to guilt trip you.”

“No, I know that,” Santana replies with a sniffle, “And I’m really happy that you felt comfortable enough to tell me. I guess I just felt guilty.”

“Well quit it, I don’t want you carrying that around anymore. There are just somethings we just have to let go of. We’re in different places now and I’m very proud of everything you’ve accomplished.”

“That goes for you as well,” Santana tells her, “I don’t want you to harbor any of those feelings either. Whatever you had to do to get to where you are now, I’m proud of you.”

“Santana…” Brittany sighs her name but it sounds like so much more.

Santana just smiles back lovingly, “I mean it. You don’t have to hide anything from me, Britt. I’m going to be here this time, for whatever you need.”  

Brittany nods and they settle into silence until she lets out a long sigh, “You really are my best friend.”

“Yeah, mine too.” Santana chuckles softly then asks, “You ever wonder what would've happened if we just cut the crap and called each other?”

Brittany smiles and moves to hold Santana’s hand again, “Always. I think we would've been happier a lot sooner, but I think this is good too. We were bound to find our ways back to each other. It was always supposed to be you and me.”

Santana returns the smile and begins to lean in for a kiss until Brittany stops her.

“So just to be sure,” Brittany interrupts, “You weren’t trying to end this through song right?”

Santana’s eyes widen, “No, of course not.”

“Okay just making sure,” Brittany smirks, “Because the last time you-“

“I know,” Santana groans playfully, “If there's anything I've learned in our time apart, it's that there is still no one like you. You're irreplaceable.”

Brittany’s grin grows mischievous, “Are you going to sing me another song?”

Santana lets out a laugh before tugging on Brittany’s hoodie strings, “You’re such a dork. C’mere.”

And Brittany does willingly, closing the distance between them as their lips meet for the first time all day. It’s soft and sweet but holds all the words that are still left to be said. Words that solidify Santana’s feelings and her motives and their future, but for now she just revels in the weight that has been lifted from their shoulders.

\\

Later on, Santana’s at home with Maribel and Quinn awaiting Brittany’s arrival. After their time in the choir room, Santana and Brittany went their separate ways for the moment so they could get ready for tonight.

To Santana’s surprise, Quinn had shown up early.

She was just barely out of the shower when she heard the telltale sound of Quinn’s laughter floating up from downstairs. Regardless, she took her time getting ready. Although it wasn’t actually Christmas yet, Santana could still look the part and dress up. She slid into a dark grey skirt and threw on her comfiest reindeer sweater – which would put Rachel Berry’s whole collection to shame – before applying a little make up and a fresh spritz of perfume.

With one last look in the mirror, Santana fluffed her hair and headed downstairs.

“There she is!” Quinn cheers when Santana finally joined them in the kitchen.

“Oh mija, you look lovely!” Maribel greets as Santana rounded the island counter they were both sitting at. She noticed the open wine bottle and their glasses which barely had a swallow left in them and smirked.

“I see you’ve started without me,” Santana teases as she takes an empty glasses. She doesn’t even say anything before Quinn is filling it with pinot gris. She raises her now full glass to them both with a cheers before taking a sip.

Maribel and Quinn continue to chat about anything and everything, the wine making them a lot more talkative than normal. Santana is only halfway listening to their conversation, too busy puttering around the kitchen, peeking under the lids of pots left simmering on the stove.

It’s not until she hears Brittany’s name mentioned that her interest is piqued. When she turns to them, they’re both looking to her expectantly.

“What?” Santana asks looking a little lost before taking a sip.

“I said, where’s your girlfriend? I’m ready to decorate!” Quinn says and the label falls so easily from her but it doesn’t stop Santana from nearly choking on her wine. Quinn notices it and quirks her brow, “Do you need to be cut off already?”

“No,” Santana eye rolls, “It’s just that…She’s not my girlfriend.”

Maribel deadpans, “¿qué?”

Quinn tilts her head to Maribel and nods, “What she said.”

“Well yeah, we’re not exactly dating,” Santana explains and she immediately feels their judgement, “Okay we are but like…nothing’s official.”

“What are you waiting for?” Quinn and Maribel say in unison.

Hearing their voices at the same time makes Santana take another sip of her wine. She couldn’t handle their meddling individually, let alone when they team up and let alone being sober.

“I said what I said,” Santana clarifies in a huff. She hates this feeling of being under a scope. She knows that no matter how annoying and intrusive they’re being, they do it out of love. She can still hate it though and after everything that happened in the choir room, she really just wants them to butt out.

Of course, they don’t.

“Do you want to date other people?” Quinn asks.

“No.” Santana answers tiredly.

“Does she?” Maribel asks.

“I highly doubt it.” Santana answers again.

“So…” Quinn drawls out, “What’s the issue?”

Santana just sighs, “There isn’t an issue. We’re just – I don’t know. I don’t want to mess this thing up, we’ve worked so hard to get to this point. I’m really trying to do things the right way and I know Britt doesn’t need all of that, but I just – I want to make sure this time. I don’t want to lose her again.”

That answer seems to soften Maribel and Quinn and they exchange apologetic smiles.

“Stop that,” Santana grumbles, “It’s weird.”

Quinn’s smile turns into a smirk, “Who knew you were such a-“

“A what?” Santana growls.

“A hopeless romantic,” Quinn finishes, “Emphasis on the hopeless.”

Santana just lets out a deep sigh, “I’m not. Britt and I just – we have an understanding, okay? You might not get it, but it’s not for you to get. We don’t need to label our relationship to solidify how we feel.”

Quinn smiles proudly and tips her glass to Santana before taking a sip while Maribel just stares with the same adoring smile.

“Mami, you have to stop looking at me like that,” Santana says, trying to push away the nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Maribel just chuckles, “Santana, I love you. You’re my favorite daughter-“

“I’m your only daughter.”

“Maybe so and I’m so proud of how far you’ve come but, mija, you’re a worry sometimes.” Maribel tells her in the most lovingly way possible. She reaches out and pinches Santana’s cheek, “Brittany loves you, just don’t make her wait too long. Okay?”

Those words resonate with Santana, but thankfully she’s saved by the bell…literally.

“I’ll get it. No more talking about this,” Santana says and quickly goes to answer the door. Behind her she can hear the two giggling away like school girls and she shakes her head at the sound although it makes her smile a little.

When Santana opens the door, she’s instantly relieved to see Brittany there.

“Oh thank God you’re here,” Santana greets her with a dramatic sigh.

“Hey San!” Brittany giggles. There’s a fluffy Santa hat atop her head and she’s dressed in her most festive holiday sweater, cheeks a little rosy from the cold. “What’s happening?”

“Quinn and my mom think they’re matchmakers,” Santana grumbles and opens the door a little wider for Brittany to walk past.

“Ooh, who are we setting up?” Brittany asks enthusiastically. She holds a fruit tray in one hand as her eyes sweep Santana’s torso and back up to meet her gaze, “You look really good by the way. I love your sweater.”

“Thanks Britt and you look as beautiful as ever,” Santana grins and offers to take the fruit tray as she leads the way to the kitchen. She can feel Brittany’s eyes on her and her confidence grows because of it. She peeks over her shoulder – just to check – and catches Brittany’s eyes lingering a lot lower than they should before instantly snapping up.

Brittany’s cheeks flush although her smirk grows, “Did you say something?”

Santana just shakes her head as they round the corner.

“Brittany!” Maribel and Quinn cheer in unison which makes Brittany giggle again and look to Santana questioningly.

“They’re half a bottle in already,” Santana supplies and pulls out a glass for Brittany too.

“Hi! Merry early Christmas, Quinn,” Brittany greets just as excitedly as she kisses the top of Quinn’s head and moves to give Maribel a hug before kissing her cheek, “And Merry early Christmas, Maribel. Thanks for inviting me over.”

“Of course, my girl!” Maribel says happily.

Santana watches with a soft smile as she pours Brittany a glass of wine. The way Maribel calls Brittany my girl does something to the steady beat of Santana’s heart. She gets caught up in thinking about how well Brittany fits in with her family that she doesn’t notice the girl coming closer.

“Can’t forget about you,” Brittany cheeses as she slips in next to Santana to press a quick kiss to her cheek too, “Merry early Christmas, Santana.”

Santana melts on the spot and she can totally feel Maribel and Quinn’s eyes on her but instead of looking at them, she just hands Brittany her glass.

“Merry early Christmas, Britt.” She says softly.

Brittany just winks before turning back to Maribel and Quinn, “Let’s get to decorating!”

\\

They find that decorating is so much better when there’s a mix of wine, food and good company. Most of the house has been Christmas-fied, gaudy garland is wrapped around anything that it can, there are red velvet bows in the front windows, the table runner has been swapped out for the one decorated with Christmas ornaments, stockings are hung by the fire place, and there’s this lingering scent of cinnamon and pine.

They’re about halfway through decorating the tree when they decided to pause for dinner. It’s a lot less formal than Thanksgiving as they eat out of bowls and sit around the living room while they catch the last half of Elf.

Santana knows it’s Brittany’s favorite and she smiles at how entranced Brittany is as she sits on the floor by the coffee table and watches like she’s seeing it for the first time. There’s a lot of things Santana loves about the holidays, the decorations and the overall Christmas spirit, but watching Brittany light up like this is probably her favorite.

There’s something so pure about it, how something like Brittany’s favorite Christmas movie has gone unchanged over the years, and she feels herself soften at the thought. She gets to thinking about what next year will be like and the year after that.

She thinks about old wishes she made in the past, wishes that involved decorating their own place and coming up with their own traditions. She gets to thinking about their future and babies that look a little like her but also a little like Brittany and it surprises her but she can’t help but entertain the thought. She thinks about hanging up little stockings by theirs and setting out a plate of cookies and milk for Santa and how she and Britt will have to scarf them down before morning.

Santana doesn’t realize she’s being watched like a hawk until she feels a nudge and looks to the source. It’s Quinn smirking and wagging her brows like an idiot.

Santana just sends her a glare before turning back to the tv as she finishes off her meal.

\\

Once the movie ends, Brittany stands up to stretch and her shoulder pops.

“Getting old there, Britt-Britt?” Santana teases.

“Hey, you’re not too far behind,” Brittany smirks as she pulls off her Santa hat and pushes it down on Santana’s head, “Santana Claus.”

“Britt, my hair!” Santana groans through a smile as she adjusts the hat, “And excuse me, but I’m gonna be forever young.”

“Sure,” Quinn jokes lowly. Santana shoots a scowl in her direction.  

“You girls,” Maribel chuckles as she sets off to continue decorating.

Brittany smirks before collecting empty bowls to take to the kitchen.

Santana’s eyes follow after her, the sway of Brittany’s hips as she walks away always hypnotizing.

“You should do it tonight,” Quinn whispers once Brittany’s out of the room.

Santana quirks a brow as she turns the Christmas music back on, “Do what?”

“You know,” Quinn says expectantly, “It.”

“Gross. The last thing I want you meddling in is my sex life,” Santana quips lowly because that’s the last topic she wants her mom to overhear.

Quinn just groans, “I’m not talking about that. You should make it official. You’re already so coupley.”

“Didn’t you hear what I said earlier? We don’t need to do that so mind your business, Q,” Santana says tiredly and moves to stand, “I’m going to help Britt clean up.”

“See what I mean? Coupley!” Quinn sing-songs but Santana just shakes her head at her friend’s antics.

It’s not like she hasn’t been thinking about it, making things official has been on her mind for awhile and honestly she knows she’s dragging her feet. She doesn’t need everyone reminding her of that, but it just seems so high school to have to put a label on something.

But she does have to admit that there is something special about being someone’s something and since their talk in the choir room, things have just felt different.

“Hey,” Brittany grins as Santana comes up beside her at the sink.

“Hi,” Santana says as she picks up a towel, “Thought I’d help you dry.”

“Awesome,” Brittany nods.

They stand like that, side by side, just going through the motions in a comfortable silence until the song coming from the living room speakers changes to something more upbeat. Brittany’s the first to start humming and Santana soon follows, their voices melting together into a sultry mashup. Not to brag, but they sound pretty damn good. They always have and sometimes Santana really regrets not getting to sing with her more during their Glee Club days.

Seriously, they would’ve won every competition if it was her and Britt and lead and that’s a fact.

“We sound good together,” Brittany says like she can read Santana’s mind.

It makes Santana smile with pride, “Yeah we do.”

“You never told me who your mom and Quinn were trying to set up earlier,” Brittany says casually.

Santana’s eyes nearly bug out of her head so she’s thankful Brittany’s too occupied with scrubbing to notice. “Uh, they were just being nosy.”

“Bout what?” Brittany asks.

Santana swallows, “Well, us.”

“Ohhh,” Brittany hums then starts to laugh, “Those two are a funny combo.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Santana agrees.

Once they finish up with the dishes, Brittany turns to her as she dries her hands. There’s a contemplative look in her eye as she asks, “You’re still staying over tonight, right?”

Honestly, Santana forgot about that but she hopes it doesn’t show on her face.

“Yeah. Totally,” Santana nods, “I’ll have to grab some things before we go but yeah..”

“Cool. I forgot to check with you earlier but I didn’t think it would be the right time with the whole beautifully heartfelt serenading in progress.” Brittany replies and hey both giggle at the way she says serenading.

“Well, I’m staying with you tonight.” Santana assures her, “If you still want me to.”

“Duh,” Brittany grins dopily and starts to lean in for a kiss.

Santana has been deprived of this since the choir room and she’s quick to roll on to her toes to close the distance when-

“Guys! It’s our song! Hurry!” Quinn calls out so suddenly that it makes the girls jerk away.

There’s a flush blossoming along Brittany’s cheeks and Santana scowls at the interruption, but her annoyance doesn’t last long as she hears the familiar melody coming from the living room.

“It is! Come on!” Brittany beams and drags Santana along behind her to find Quinn already pushing the coffee table out of the way for more space.

“No way you still remember all the steps!” Santana challenges as she and Brittany fall into place flanking Quinn.

Maribel sits off to the side, clapping her hands to the beat while the girls perform their signature routine to The Ronettes’ Sleigh Ride. Surprisingly, they really do remember the steps! There’s a bit of improv as Brittany dips down to pluck up a chain of bells and passes them to Santana as they continue to supply Quinn with their back up vocals.

The girls dance around the living room shaking their bells and swaying their hips in time with the music and it’s the most fun Santana’s had in so long, but what’s most surprising though is the high note Maribel hits out of nowhere.

“Holy shit!” Santana squeaks and Quinn looks equally as stunned.

“Woah,” Brittany’s brows rise as she shoots Santana a look, “So that’s where you get it from.”

Maribel just lifts her shoulder like it was nothing and they all start laughing at how similar Santana really is to her mom before getting back to the song.

At one point, Quinn smoothly takes the bells from Santana’s hand and leads her to Brittany. The two begin to waltz around the room, Brittany leading Santana effortlessly into a graceful twirl. Strong hands settle on Santana’s hips, gliding around to the small of her back as Brittany dips her.

It’s embarrassing how much Santana loves when Brittany takes control when they dance and Santana struggles to keep from biting her lip at the sight. Instead she focuses on the twinkle in Brittany’s eye and Quinn and Maribel’s laughter as they try to dance half as well together.

Once the chorus picks up again, Brittany spins Santana away and suddenly the partners have changed. Brittany’s waltzing with Quinn and Santana’s trying not to step on Maribel’s toes. It’s almost like musical chairs but with dancing and soon the partners change again. Now it’s Brittany and Maribel swaying along to the beat while Santana and Quinn do the same.

It’s a little bit of a power struggle dancing with Quinn because she feels Quinn trying to lead her around the room in a similar fashion as Brittany, but it feels weird letting someone else take control. Then again, that’s basically a summary of her and Quinn’s friendship: constant power struggle. She doesn’t realize there was a purpose for her leading until the song fades out and Brittany’s pointing to them.

“Mistletoe!” Brittany laughs out and she nearly falls over at the expression Santana wears as she looks up.

Sure enough, someone decided to hang mistletoe in that specific spot. The same spot Quinn was so desperately trying to avoid.

“Fuck off,” Santana deadpans and goes to eye everyone, “Who put that there?”

Quinn is equally shocked as she looks to Maribel, “We were supposed to switch again!”

“I thought we had more time!” Maribel answers worriedly.

Santana’s just confused, “What’s going on?”

Brittany’s eyes just dart between the three, an amused grin playing at her lips.

“This isn’t right,” Quinn shakes her head and looks up at the mistletoe like it has offended her, “You had one job!”

“It sure isn’t right,” Santana quips, “Because there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that I’m kissing you.”

“Cute, you’ve adapted your insults for the holidays,” Quinn replies sarcastically.

“Hey, what’s a friendly kiss on the cheek between friends?” Brittany calls out while trying to keep from laughing at the whole situation. Santana can tell she’s just trying to stir the pot now and she quickly shoots her a glare.

“I see you over there,” Santana says but Brittany just winks.

“I mean…” Quinn scrunches her nose as she ponders the thought, “When she puts it that way?”

Santana pushes Quinn away, “Nah, no way.”

“Rude,” Quinn recovers and adjusts her cardigan. She looks to Maribel and through her disappointment she says, “We’ve failed.”

Maribel’s smile grows as she watches Brittany round the couch, “I don’t know...look.”

“Alright,” Brittany chuckles and steps closer to Santana, “I’ll volunteer my services as a stand-in. It’s bad luck for a mistletoe kiss to go unfulfilled.”

“I’ve…never heard of that,” Santana tilts her head to the side.

Brittany just shrugs, “It’s true.”

Quinn’s brows rise as she and Maribel exchange surprised looks, has their plan actually worked? They’re not out of the woods yet though.

“That’s not how that works,” Quinn argues although there’s not much resistance as Brittany nears Santana.

“Sure it is. I’m a certified genius so you have to believe me,” Brittany looks like she’s on a mission and nothing’s going to get in the way of her sweet lady kisses.

“But-“

“Shut it, Fabray,” Santana seems to be on the same page, “If my girlfriend wants to volunteer she can!”

Santana almost doesn’t catch the slip up, but the look on Brittany’s face in addition to the gasps Quinn and Maribel let out have her blushing hard.

“Did you just…” Brittany whispers low enough so only Santana can hear. She’s wearing Santana’s favorite smile and it just about makes her swoon.

She thinks about how hard she was putting her foot down earlier with Quinn and Maribel, how she’s totally gone against everything she had said, but this feeling she gets from saying my girlfriend is too good to pass up.

And it happened so easily, that has to mean something right? Maybe it’s a sign she shouldn’t have been fighting it so hard?

Santana matches her grin, “Is that okay?”

Brittany answers by bringing Santana in, her smile evident in the press of their lips. For a second, time stops and – just like the kiss they shared before a frozen fountain in Cincinnati – they feel like they’re the only ones left in the world. It’s the sweetest kiss yet because it holds so much more than just the luck of a strategically placed mistletoe. It’s the start of a new phase of their lives and Santana can’t wait to see what’s in store.

“Good work!” Maribel smirks as she holds up her hand to Quinn for a high five.

Quinn claps her hand to Maribel’s, “Just needed a little push.”

“You know we can hear you,” Santana calls out and sends a playful glare over Brittany’s shoulder. Maribel and Quinn just giggle away, satisfied that their work here is done.

[seaofashes]

Pppst I would love to see what you come up with for Buddie doing a snowball fight ❄️💖

"Oh you're ON Buckley, bring it." Eddie said as he stared down his best friend who had just thrown a snowball dead square in his face. Buck smirked as he pulled his other hand out from behind his back and Eddie dove to the side dodging it.

"What the hell was that Eddie? That was the weakest snowball throw I've ever seen in my life. Christopher threw one at me harder than that and he's eight." Buck called out as he hid behind a tree and started forming more snowballs.

Eddie scoffed silently as he stood against the corner of his house, Buck was just within sight behind his tree as Eddie looked around the corner. Eddie had to admit that the man already had an impressive stack of perfectly formed snowballs... and probably had more experience with these sort of things than Eddie did.

Eddie peaked his head around the corner again and swore. Buck had disappeared. Eddie grabbed a few snowballs before cautiously moving from his spot. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned seeing Buck run. Eddie took off after him and as Buck turned to throw a snowball Eddie jumped, yes physically jumped in the air sideways, to dodge it as he threw his own.

"Oh it's so on now Diaz, now this is gonna be a snowball fight." Buck said as he nailed Eddie with another snowball as Eddie rolled over to avoid how face being hit again. Eddie got up throwing two snowballs at Buck before they bolted apart again.

They were at it for three hours. It was the most intense snowball fight Buck had ever been in. At one point Eddie was on the roof. The goddamn roof! Buck had ended up jumping down from where he perched in the tree to get more snowballs when he was blindsided and Eddie tackled him to the ground and hit him with another snowball before rolling off and got up running.

"Jesus Eddie what the hell are you made of?" Buck grumbled to himself before he got up and got a massive snowball ready to go. It was approximately the size of a softball. He rounded the corner and Eddie eyes landed on the snowball.

"Nononono. Nope" He turned around and picked up Christopher, who Buck assumed had just gotten home and turned back to Buck.

"Daaaaaddddd!" Christopher giggled.

"That's just dirty man, how dare you use my favorite person in existence against me. This," Buck motioned between them "is not yet settled. We've got unfinished business."

"I propose a truce, go inside, I'll whip up some nice homemade Diaz hot cocoa, put on some movies and have a fun movie night sleepover?" Eddie said peaking out from behind his smiling son.

"Fine. Only because I love your cocoa and you won't give me the recipe. Hey buddy!" Buck grumbled and disappointedly dropped his snowball as Eddie set Christopher down and the young boy walked over and hugged Buck. "Hi Buck!"

"Sorry Buck but you've gotta be a Diaz to have the recipe. Abuela and Tia would both have my skin if they found out I have it to someone outside the family name." Eddie shrugged as they stomped off their boots and headed inside.

Buck ordered pizza as Eddie went to the kitchen and started the cocoa. Buck plopped down on the couch and Christopher came over and brought blankets with him. "How was the sleepover bud?"

"It was fun. We made Christmas cards. Aunt Hen helped me with mine!" Chris said happily as he showed it to Buck.

"Oh that's really cool Christopher! Is that the three of us?" Buck asked looking at the cover and the young boy nodded with a big grin on his face. Buck opened the card up and smiled looking at the picture drawn before he read it and choked on his own saliva.

"H-hey bud...you realize I'm not you're actual dad right?" Buck said looking at the glittery red words 'You're the best dad's ever'. Chris looked up at him and nodded.

"I know that Daddy is but...you can have two dad's. Like Denny has two mom's." Christopher stated and Buck's heart clenched. "You do the same thing Daddy does."

"Yeah but...it's different little man. See Hen and Karen are together, they're married and love eachother. Your dad and I are just really good friends." Buck said with a small pang in his chest.

"Don't you love Daddy?" Christopher asked with a small look of confusion on his young face. Buck looked down and he couldn't bring himself to lie but he couldn't flat out say yes either.

"It's complicated to explain Chris." Buck said quietly.

"What's complicated?" Eddie asked as he came in carefully carrying three mugs and set them down on the table as he took up a spot next to his son. Christopher showed him the card and Buck couldn't read the expression that passed over his face.

"Ah..." Was all he said for a long moment. He went to say something else but their was a knock at the door. Buck got up before he could hear what Eddie told Chris. Buck answered the door and payed for the pizza and went into the kitchen setting it the box on the counter as he got plates out and set the table.

"Veggie night right?" Eddie said, making a face as he and Christopher walked into the room and sat down as Buck brought the box over.

"Indeed it is, veggies are important Eddie. Besides I don't want to hear anything coming from a man who ate pineapple and mushroom pizza in front of my very eyes." Buck said as he grabbed two slices and began eating.

"Excuse you but that is a fantastic pizza to get you just have bad taste." Eddie muttered.

"I like the veggie pizza more." Christopher said as he ate. Eddie clutched at his chest.

"HA! See at least one Diaz has taste." Buck said as he held up a fist in victory before reaching over and high-fiveing Chris.

The rest of the night was spent eating snacks and watching movies. Eddie looked over at Christopher who was sleeping against Buck and smiled a little. "Guess I should get him to bed."

Eddie got up and stretched before carefully scooping his son up and taking him to his room. Buck grabbed the remaining popcorn and heading into the kitchen. Buck was so lost in thought that he didn't hear or see Eddie enter the room already changed into loose gym shorts and a baggy blue shirt.

"So what was so complicated about explaining that we're just best friends to an eight year old?" Eddie asked inquisitively.

"It's compl-" Buck started but Eddie just looked at him.

"We weren't just talking about that okay, he asked something else that was a little harder to explain." Buck said as he glanced over at his best friend while he dried the popcorn bowl he just washed.

"What was it?"

"What is with the questions man, seriously it's not a big thing Eddie." Buck sighed and dragged a hand down his face. "I should get going, I know you guys wanted me to stay but maybe I should just head home Eds."

"Buck it's late man why don't you just stay over? Seriously, I'll stop with the questions." Eddie said as he moved a little closer to Buck.

"I don't think it's a good idea.." Buck said as he shifted his weight looking anywhere but Eddie.

"What? If it's about the whole Christopher thing man it's all good. He's not exactly wrong, you do all the things a parent does Buck." Eddie said and Buck shook his head.

"You're still having night terrors aren't you?" Eddie said softly and Buck looked up at him silently. Eddie sighed quietly muttering in Spanish. "Buck stay here man maybe... maybe sleeping near someone will help?"

"I don't follow?" Buck said looking at him confused. Eddie swore to any God in existence that Buck could be dumb when it comes to certain things. The man was beyond smart but he was an idiot all the same.

"Sleep with me." Eddie said and at the flush that crossed Buck's face Eddie realized what that sounded like and quickly clarified. "N-not like that I meant the same bed. Not actually...doing anything man. Like next to me."

Buck's brain seemed to short circuit but he managed a slow nod. Eddie bit back the smile begging to make itself known. "Your toothbrush is still in the bathroom and your clothes are still in the guest room dresser. Meet you in the room."

With that he left Buck who was trying to hide the slight trembling in his body. He was going to sleep next to Eddie. In the same bed...with his best friend...who he's been in love with for at least a year now...cool.

Buck grabbed his loose fitting sweatpants and his black shirt before heading into the bathroom and getting ready, and maybe he was taking his sweet time because yeah he was nervous something would happen.

Buck wandered into Eddie's room to find the man sitting up in bed scrolling through his phone. Buck also took note of the fact he was shirtless now and pried his eyes from Eddie's naked torso. Buck moved to the other side of the bed and set his phone down on the small nightstand next to it as he crawled under the covers.

"Dude how are you not freezing?" Buck mumbled as he shivered slightly.

"I'm wondering how you're so damn cold right now man." Eddie laughed as he set his phone down and scoot a little closer to Buck and opened his arms. "It's warmer over here."

"Eddie.." Buck said as he turned and looked at Eddie holding his arms open.

"Evan.." Eddie said softly and Buck's heart skipped a beat. Buck closed his eyes for a moment before deciding he might as well take this opportunity and enjoy it. Buck scoot closer and wrapped an arm around Eddie as Eddie's arms pulled him closer.

"Dios mio Buck you really are freezing." Eddie mumbled against his hair.

"You're a human heater what the hell." Buck mumbled as he had his face nuzzled against Eddie's neck. He shivered again as he felt Eddie's laughter in his chest.

"Guess we balance eachother out." He smiled as he looked down at Buck.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Buck mumbled furrowing his brow. Eddie sighed as he leaned forward and captured Buck's lips and Buck froze, eyes widening momentarily before his brain caught up with everything. Buck kissed Eddie back gently as he pulled himself a little closer to him.

"What do you think that means?" Eddie whispered against his jaw as he trailed his lips across it.

"That I'm dead." Buck said as his breath caught in his throat as Eddie slipped a hand under Buck's shirt.

"No Buck you're not dead, granted you gave me a few scares over the past few years." Eddie sighed as he trailed his hands further up Buck's torso. Eddie captured Buck's mouth again and bit his lower lip causing Buck to moan quietly.

They broke away as they heard Chris cry out in the other room and were both up and in his room in an instant. They both stayed with him until he was calm and sound asleep before heading back to Eddie's room and collapsing back into bed. Buck snuggled up to Eddie and kissed him gently before yawning.

"Night Eddie. Love you" He mumbled as he drifted off.

"Love you too Ev, get some sleep." Eddie said as he closed his eyes and they drifted off to sleep.

[riverdalenerdlol]

I’ve been down this road before - not the cheating part, that’s not what I’m about to talk about. All four years of high school I did marching band. I attended 45 high school football games in four years, never missed one from age 14 to 17. 

When I was fifteen (and a fucking fool in sophomore year), I was sitting next to one of my good guy friends at the time, on the way back from an away football game. It was late, we were all tired, and - naturally - there was a game of what are the odds going on (that one game where they’re like “what are the odds you’ll do (this)” and they’re like “one to five” or whatever, and if they say the same number after the count of three, that person has to do whatever it was). 

At some point during the actual football game (in the boys’ bathroom I presume) this guy friend I was sitting next to got involved in the game out of my view and earshot. He lost his round. Somehow it got back to me that he lost a bet, though I didn’t know what it was because everyone would start giggling like the immature 14 year olds they were. Eventually, though, someone was honest with me. 

Sometime, before we all left to go home, he had to kiss me on the cheek because he lost his bet. 

Later, on that dark bus, he finally did it. 

Right now I really chastise myself for it because it was literally just a kiss on the cheek. It didn’t mean anything, really. It was a dare, a bet. I - that naive 15 year old - had never gotten that sort of attention from someone before. Nobody had ever taken me on a date, or kissed me (besides my own parents), or even cared about how I felt about someone. 

Stupid, naive me mistook that one action and it snowballed. 

The boy and I started talking more and more, and come time for the next football game (a home game this time), we went on a date together. I kissed him on the cheek too (we were so fucking innocent - I cringe). From there... it just escalated. Our first real kiss was in a high school stairwell, we made out on the bus on the way home from football games, I started hanging out with his friends and sitting on his lap in one his friend’s car because there wasn’t enough for all 8 of us in an old Honda Civic. 

He held me close when I got anxious over a bad storm that turned the sky completely dark in the middle of the day with heavy potential for tornados (and we all know that is the one thing that I get the most anxious about). That was probably the most real, most sensitive I’d ever experienced of him while we dated. 

I was an idiot. I didn’t know the first thing about relationships. He seemed to know a little more than me, but I never let him strong arm me into anything. 

About three months in, I told him I loved him over text and he said it back. 

I didn’t know the weight of those words, I didn’t understand what the hell love was. I was an idiotic fifteen year-old. What I felt for him wasn’t love, and I can definitively say that. I wasn’t in love with him, I was in love with the idea of him. The idea that I could get someone to love me just for being myself. He complimented me, he hugged me, and kissed me (when I let him), but I didn’t love him. I didn’t ever love him, and I couldn’t ever love him. 

That didn’t stop me from saying the words, from still believing I knew what I was saying. 

About five or six months in, I realized that I didn’t love him, that I never loved him. I led him on for one to two months because I didn’t know how to end it. Our relationship started to tatter. We argued about stupid things, he started saying that he didn’t have feelings and whatever I said wouldn’t affect him, and I was leading him on. 

About seven months in, I was headed towards a leadership position in the band and he got jealous, so he tried out against me in spite. We were arguing for a week straight, and he was trying to tear me down, saying that I couldn’t ever take on that responsibility, that it would be a bad idea... but it didn’t stop me. 

The day before the audition, I broke up with him in class (over text so as not to disturb anything). After seven months, I felt more liberated than I ever had. I started bragging about how I was a free person again. People asked me if I was okay, and of course I was - I broke up with him. 

Trying to be cordial afterwards, he asked me to say that it was mutual to save his ego and I let it happen because I didn’t want any bad blood. 

That next Sunday, it was announced that I was the one that took the leadership position. He didn’t take it too well. He told me I would do a terrible job, that I didn’t deserve it, that he deserved it, that I was a terrible person. He got angry because I said I loved him and then I betrayed him. I didn’t know what love was, and I obviously hadn’t loved him. 

For the next two years, he disrespected me, he started rumors, he and his friends tried to get me to quit by harassing me, he talked bad about me and undermined me, and brought me to tears after rehearsals were over. 

He never won, and I never let him get what he wanted. 

I stumbled across Riverdale at the end of my spring break in junior year, almost a year after I’d broken up with him. I binged the first season in a day. Outraged, I caught up via a YouTube playlist that had all of the S2 episodes on it. 

I was suddenly presented with a healthy relationship: Jughead Jones and Betty Cooper. They showed me what love was, they showed me what love wasn’t. Love was the way Jughead always chose Betty first, how he tried to protect her from everything in her life. Love was how Betty saw Jughead as more than who everyone else said he was, how she had unconditional faith in him. 

Love was not Archie and Betty - Archie, who chose Geraldine Grundy and Veronica over Betty in the pilot, how he crushed her dreams. Love wasn’t how Betty thought Archie could fit perfectly into her life, because her life wasn’t perfect, and neither was Archie. There was love as friends, love as longtime best friends. 

Love is not what Betty and Archie think they have. They showed the diner scene from the pilot. They’re both forgetting about how Archie looked at Veronica when she walked in not a minute later. They showed the dance in the pilot scene. They’ve forgotten how Archie said they were better off as friends, crushing Betty’s delicate heart in the process. 

Love is what Betty and Jughead have, and what Veronica and Archie have. It doesn’t compare to what Betty and Archie have together. 

They’re mistaking a few unnatural kisses and faking a relationship for feelings, just like I did when I was fifteen. As someone who has gone through it personally, I wish I could tell them how not worth it it is. Forsaking the love of your life for someone you think you have blossoming feelings for isn’t worth it. 

Don’t take seven months to realize you don’t feel that way. Don’t act on feelings that don’t exist. Don’t fool yourselves into thinking that you love someone when you don’t. 

[lihikainanea]

Tiger and Bill fucking, not anything too our of ordinary, but it clicks in her mind as she looks at his face. He’s so beautiful, kind, and is so great, beyond words. She gets very soft, her heart aching at the thought of how much he cares for her. When they both finish, she’s spun into a complete sense of vulnerability, pushing him away immediately after he finished. She started to breathe heavy, tears flowing as he stood, trying to calm her down anyway possible.

Anonymous said: bff!bill and his tiger having sex but she cries at the end, revealing something she’s going through that she actually hadn’t told him about? maybe she went on a date with a guy and he said some nasty stuff to her?Anonymous said: You think it ever had times where tiger was insecure about her body (maybe she gained weight or something) and one of her boyfriends made her feel insecure about it. How would Bill react?

Oh, nani(s). I love these. I combined them because they are all threads of the same root for me, but my god, send me more. Send me more that lets my imagination run on how good Bill is, because I’m so here for good dudes right now. Solid dudes. Confident dudes who lift up the women in their lives.

I’m guilty sometimes of swinging too much one way, and making strong people too strong and denying that they have any kryptonite. Which is funny, because I always am so enthralled by vulnerability when it comes to beautiful people. That’s the part I want to know, the part I want to see. It has never let me down.

I think most times, when tiger feels this way, it’s usually in direct relation to Bill somehow. Like she knows he’s beautiful, she sees it, but sometimes she forgets how beautiful he is, forgets this whole side to his life which is that he’s a celebrity. And then when she gets caught up in that, when she sees pictures of him with industry people…I mean shit, how can a normal human being not feel terrible about themselves? And make no mistake, he would be furious with her for thinking that way because of all people, he expected her to be smarter than that, to know him well enough to realize that he doesn’t buy into that shit either. 

But I mean, beautiful people are fucking intimidating as hell, you know? And it’s easy to make yourself crazy, thinking that they don’t have stomach rolls, that they don’t have cellulite, that they wake up looking the way we see in photographs. I can go on a long rant about how destructive this celebrity machine is, how every single thing that ever makes it to our eyes is incredibly carefully orchestrated, organized, edited, to have us come to a conclusion that we very much think we come to on our own. Anyway, don’t get me started.

Also, look, my favourite bartender in the Zurich airport makes my gin and tonics super fucking strong and I just DON’T HAVE THE STATE OF MIND to edit this right now. Sorry if it’s riddled with spelling mistakes, I’ll fix it when I get to…wherever the fuck I’m headed.

***

Usually, you were better at reeling it in, getting it under control. Usually your need to knock your best friend down a few notches on his celebrity pedestal overruled any ounce of self-consciousness that had ever crept into your mind during your friendship.

Bill had always been drawn to your casualness about it, and you held on to that fact when all of it seemed to be getting the best of you. You were his safe space away from it, you protected him from it at times, forced him to face it at others times, but most of all you just…didn’t seem to care. There was a realness about you, from the very beginning, that he couldn’t get enough of because it had been so absent in most of his previous relationships, romantic or otherwise. 

And he wasn’t stupid, he knew what was going on most of the time and he wished for a certain level of normalcy. Group vacations got awkward when he took part, the other women in the group never leaving their faces bare and free of make up when he was around. Even though he was a friend, their outfits seemed more carefully planned, their nonchalance a little more forced, their laughs a little more fake. 

You had been unapologetic from the beginning. You didn’t seem to mind who saw you without make up, or what you were wearing. You had called him over to help install a shelf (because it was an IKEA shelf, and Bill was “all Swedish and shit”) and he smiled when you whipped open the door, a half eaten slice of pizza in one hand, hair amuck, in your pyjamas. Bar nights were low key, it was rare he saw you in heels but even though you were considerably less done up than most of the others, you still managed to catch nearly every eye in the bar with your loud laugh and your ability to beat nearly everyone at both pool and darts. And yet, you seemed oblivious to it every time.

But what was intriguing to Bill was often hard to manage at times, for you. You could usually push the thoughts to the back of your mind until they eventually disappeared, but when it was a culmination of events, it became harder and harder to ignore.

Bill was beautiful—conventionally, physically, emotionally—in every sense of the word, Bill was beautiful. And once you got to know him better, his physical beauty became the lesser of all of them, but it was still there and sometimes your forgot that it was the only beauty that some people knew or saw in him. And when compared with normal folk, Bill stuck out like a sore thumb.

He would be oblivious to the looks, but you seemed to catch them every time. 

It had started the weekend before, when he brought you to a fitting for an upcoming photoshoot. He had recently signed on with a new designer as a spokesperson and was leaving for a few days to an exotic location for a new magazine spread. You had refused at first—spending the afternoon in a designer’s studio sounded like a nightmare to you—but he had begged for your company, and you agreed.

You wished you hadn’t.

Between the dirty looks the assistant kept throwing your way, how the designer had looked hesitant to even shake your hand as if the resignation of going out in public in jeans and a loose shirt was contagious, you wanted to crawl into a hole and cry. They fawned over Bill, his height, his measurements, his long legs—he was a designer’s dream, and every scrap of material they put on him looked phenomenal. You caught the way the assistant took her time measuring his inseam, the way she looked up at him, biting her perfectly outlined red lips. You fiddled with the sleeves of your shirt—the sleeves which were too long, the chest probably a little too tight, and subconsciously sucked in the two rolls that always seemed to protrude from the top of your jeans when you sat down.

This assistant, you were willing to bet, didn’t have any of that.

It had snowballed from there. For the first time in your friendship, you felt…inadequate. You felt like you finally saw what everybody else had been seeing for awhile; that you were a completely mismatched pair.

The entire week, none of your clothes seemed to fit right, nothing seemed cute. You didn’t know if you had gained weight or if you were just bloated for some reason or another, but things seemed too tight, your breasts looked too big in some shirts, too small in others, noticeably lopsided in the rest. Your jeans fit properly until you had breakfast or lunch or dinner, and then you started to feel your stomach roll over the tops of them. 

And now every time Bill walked in the room, you wanted to curl up and disappear. Because he never seemed to look anything short of beautiful; whether it was in the morning when he first woke up, his hair a tousled mess and his eyes barely open, or late at night when he had been working away on a script and his voice was raw, his eyes bloodshot—he still looked beautiful. When he was exhausted, deep bags under his already hollowed out eyes, his cheeks drawn in, there was still a beauty to him. In nothing but jeans and a t-shirt, skinny as he was, there was still something so beautiful about the way he moved, the way he stood. And while you were usually able to push those thoughts away—because this beautiful man was your best friend, and there was so much more to him—sometimes, the thoughts still won. Sometimes, you had a very hard time understanding how someone like him could seek out someone like you, even for just a friendship. And now that your friendship had evolved in a much more physical way, you had no idea how he could be attracted to someone like you, someone so many notches under his level.

So when he reached for you the night before he went away, sneaking up behind you and wrapping his arms firmly around your waist, you enjoyed his embrace for the few seconds you could before those thoughts crept back into your mind. And when he pressed a kiss to your earlobe, a few to your jaw before tilting your chin back to lay his lips more firmly on yours, you let him. Because he almost made you believe. He broke away with a nip to your bottom lip, spinning you around and grabbing you more firmly by the waist, planting his lips on yours again. He groaned into it, but when his hands started to creep up your shirt, the freight train of self-consciousness slammed into you and you pulled away.

“Bill, I can’t…” you paused, swallowing hard, “I’m on my period.”

It was a lie, but it was an easy way out and one he wouldn’t ask questions about.

“Oh,” he said, and you caught the disappointment in his voice before he hid it behind a lopsided grin, “Okay.”

He kissed your nose, pulling you tighter against him.

“I can still hold you though, right?” He smiled at you and the beauty in it made you want to recoil, to pull away, physically remove his arms from around you because you weren’t worthy of it. But you forced a smile back.

“Of course,” you replied.

“Do you need anything?” He asked, ”Like are you…comfortable? Do you want a hot water bottle?”

You needed him to just….stop. To take his arms away from around you, and to just stop speaking, stop being so kind, compassionate, understanding.

When you went to bed that night, he drew your back into his chest, his arms looping around you as he tucked his face into your neck. He brought a hand to your front to press gently on your lower belly like he sometimes did for you to ease some of the pain, but you caught it in yours and pulled it away before it snuck under your shirt. You felt him shift, kissing you lightly on your cheek.

“Tiger?” 

“Mmm?”

“Is everything okay?” He asked. Even that, his perceptiveness, his kindness, how gentle he was—you wanted to scream, to shake him, to ask him why he couldn’t see what everyone else clearly saw. That you weren’t worthy. That some other girl—someone prettier, smarter, thinner, more dainty, more feminine—some other girl would be much more better suited to him.

“Fine bud,” you replied instead, “Just grumpy.”

“Ok,” he snuggled closer against you, breathing you in, “I love you, kid.”

He was up early the next morning, his suitcase already packed at your place. He had given you space when you woke up with the same scowl on your face, but as the car pulled up in front to take him to the airport, he stood in front of you.

“Grumpy or not, get over it kid,” he said, “I’m not leaving here until I get a proper hug. So get your sad ass in my arms.”

“I’m not sad, Bill,” You huffed, rolling your eyes.

“Fine, then get your mad ass in my arms,” he quipped, and you crossed your arms defiance but he waved you over with two fingers. And he looked so cute, so relaxed, freshly shaved with his hair all floppy, and he smelled so good. So you did as he said, biting back the anger when he wrapped his arms so tightly around you, kissing your head, taking a big sniff of your hair. It shouldn’t be you. It should never have been you.

You tried to work on it while you had a week and a bit without him. Tried to bring him down a notch in your mind. But every time you tried, some memory of his kindness, of how he cared so deeply for you, of how beautiful he looked when he was laughing and so carefree, it all came flooding back. The first time you slept together, how he had been so focused on you and how he still focused on you, all these times later. How he always made sure you ate, worried about your comfort, if you were cold, if you felt safe. How he always asked you to text him when you got in if he knew you’d be out that night, even if you were thousands of miles away from him. How he just took care of you, of all of your needs, so completely and thoroughly.

A shitty few days at work, clothes that somehow started to just feel so much tighter around you, and terribly-angled photos of you from a fun night out that had you cringing were enough to put you in even worse of a headspace by the time he got back.

But when he walked in—his hair a little lighter from the sun, his skin a little more golden, his eyes a little more clear—he looked ethereal, and for just a few minutes, you let yourself be selfish. Because it was impossible not to feel his genuine happiness, his excitement at seeing you again, as he swooped in to lift you up. And when he set you back down on your feet, a soft kiss on your cheek turned into a few trailed on your jaw, a tentative one placed on the corner of your mouth. And when you responded just enough, he captured your lips in a searing kiss that left you weak in the knees. His lips were so soft, gliding against yours with confidence and passion and lust and gentleness all at the same time. And when he wound his arms tightly around you, groaning as he pulled at your shirt, there was such a hunger and neediness to him that you could convince yourself—if only for a few minutes—that he really did want nothing else. Nobody else.

He pulled away, lifting your shirt over your head and you scooted closer to his chest in hopes he wouldn’t get a good look at you. You were rewarded with that soft laugh of his you loved so much, the one that only seemed to come out in intimate times like these, and another deep kiss to your lips.

“I missed you too, tiger,” he teased, and then his hands stopped on your waist, making you flinch when he squeezed. This was it, maybe he had finally realized that your stomach was soft, squishy, that you had all these imperfections in droves when he was always surrounded by women who didn’t.

But when he pulled back to look you in the eyes, all you saw was concern and a light pink flush creeping on his cheeks.

“Are you still, uh….?” He bit his lip, his eyes shifting awkward. It took you a second to realize what he was asking—a pang of guilt at the reminder that you had lied to him to avoid his affections—but when you did, you managed a smile at his awkwardness.

“Bill, you left a week and a half ago,” you snickered, “Shark week is done, bud.”

“Oh thank god,” he sighed in relief and lifted you, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you to bed.

The feeling of his lips on you, his hands smoothing over your skin, the pleased noises he emitted, was almost enough to make your mind forget. Bill had that ability to make someone feel like they were the only one in the room, his attentions always focused solely on them. It would have empowered any normally confident woman, but the weight of it was suffocating to you.

You tried not to notice the way his taut muscles bunched under your hands, he was all hard lines and edges and beautiful tanned skin. You tried to ignore all the soft parts that his hands grabbed at, squeezed, kneaded gently as his lips followed in their path. It worked for awhile, in no time at all everything he made you feel became the only thing you could focus on and he had both of you climbing so quickly, building in a loud mess of moans and suckling kisses and panting breaths.

And when he tipped you over the edge—always making sure you finished before he did, and usually multiple times—his lips at your ear uttering praises that you didn’t deserve, his hands grabbing at parts of you that you hated, his chest heaving against yours, you wanted to recoil from him, push him away, cover yourself in blankets and cry and tell him to just leave.

So when he found his release immediately after yours, and when he brought his face to yours, bumping your nose as he smiled at your breathlessly with his eyes twinkling and a bead of sweat on his brow, laying a reverent kiss on your lips as he hummed happily….suddenly, you couldn’t take the crushing feeling of not being worth half the attentions that this beautiful man was always so ready to bestow on you. And you let it all come out. The stress, the anxiety, all the tortured feelings of the past few weeks slammed into the forefront of your brain and you couldn’t reel it in anymore.

When he collapsed onto you, you planted your hands on his chest and pushed him away. You pushed until he was on his haunches, looking at you in panic, as your tears started to flow and you scrambled to cover yourself with the blanket. You sobbed—heavy, racking sobs that bowed your shoulders.

“Tiger—hey, woah,” he said gently, reaching a hand tentatively out to you. You flinched, holding the blanket tighter around you. But he wouldn’t let up, slowly crawling towards you.

“Leave,” you choked out, because you couldn’t handle the worry in his eyes, the way he was being so careful with you.

“Please just go,” you whimpered.

“No,” he was back in front of you now, trying to look into your eyes, but you kept them downcast. He reached gently for your chin and you pulled it away.

“Tiger, did I hurt you?” His voice was so low it was almost a whisper, and you heard the regret, the sadness in his voice. You couldn’t even shake your head to reassure him.

“Kid, look at me. Please,” he pleaded, “Tiger, did I do something that you didn’t want?”

And your heart broke. You were having a full on meltdown, and Bill—your beautiful, empathic, gentle best friend that you loved more than anyone on Earth—immediately thought that it was his fault. It made you cry harder, curling in more on yourself.  He shuffled closer, and then suddenly his arms were wound tightly around you and you were lifted onto his lap, his legs curling around you and his arms wound tightly around your back crushing you into his chest. You struggled, tried to push at him, but he had your arms pinned to your sides.

“Let go,” you tried to sound firm, but it came out as a broken sob.

“No,” he said, “You’re not okay.”

“I said let go,” you squirmed harder but it just made him hold you tighter as he pressed his lips into your hair.

“You have a safe word,” he reminded you gently, “Use it if you have to. Otherwise, I’m not letting go.”

He listened for it, knowing that if you uttered it, it would low and barely audible. But you didn’t say anything, so he just held you as you sobbed. He repositioned you so that you were straddling his waist and he leaned back against the headboard, burying his face in your neck and rubbing your back.

When you finally started to catch your breath, when you still heaved a bit but there were no more tears falling on his chest, he tried to cup your face to bring your eyes to his. But you resisted still, pulling away, and he let your bury your face back in his chest.

“Tiger,” he said as he stroked your hair, “Do you want to talk about it now?”

You shook your head, but it wasn’t enough.

“I need words, kid,” he reinforced, and he was using that tone of voice that you had a hard time   defying.  “Do you want to talk about it now?”

“No,” you whispered.

“Okay,” he yielded, “We don’t have to talk about it now. But we are going to talk about it, when you’re more ready. Yes?”

“Yes,” you mumbled.

“Good, kid,” he praised, “But I need to know two things. Can you give me an answer for just two things?”

“Yes,” and you nodded. His encouragement was helping you out of your headspace.

“Look at me,” he said, and his voice was gentle but still held that firm undertone. You did as he asked, begrudgingly bringing your eyes to his and your heart constricted when you saw the amount of concern and worry in his eyes. He ran his thumb across your cheek.

“Thank you,” he said when your eyes met his, “Are you hurt, tiger?”

“No,” you answered, and he rewarded you with a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Okay. Was it something I did?”

“No,” you replied honestly, and you tried to maintain eye contact to reassure him. You knew it would crush him if you were distressed because of something he did, and you owed him that confession. Owed him the peace of mind.

“You promise?”

“I promise,” you whispered, and you made a feeble attempt to push him away once more but he responded by squeezing you tighter.

“I’m going to keep holding you, okay? And if you want me to stop, you know what to say.”

But you didn’t want him to stop. You wanted tell him no, to push him away, to have him recoil like you thought he should. You wanted him to respond the way you thought he ought to, and it only made you sob harder when he didn’t.

“I love you, kid,” he murmured, “and I’m sorry you’re hurting. But we’ll fix it. Together. If you’ll let me help.”

[ecofinisher]

Abominable 2.0 - Chap 27

Chapter 27

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22006036/chapters/55169887

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13463708/27/Abominable-2-The-Fanfic-Sequel

https://www.wattpad.com/847048314-abominable-2-0-chapter-27

Upwards at the top of the Mount Everest along with the help of Everest’s father the three kids from Shanghai along with Dave and his former boss arrived on the same place they had arrived together with Everest last year and on the ground three yeti cubs ran towards Everest and hugged him, seeing he was alright. Yi smiled enchanted as she saw the three cubs with Everest, then she approached the child yeti to see them closer. 

“Are these your siblings?” Yi asked making Everest shake his head and point at Jin and Peng, which were approaching the two. “Cousins?” Yi asked earning a nod from the yeti.

“Are they all boys?” Jin asked Everest, which shook his head and pointed at the second yeti and the third one. “Two boys?” Jin asked earning a nod from Everest. “Sweet” Jin complimented, then the second yeti cub approached Jin growling at him again, making Jin groan at the young litter still seeing Jin as a threat. Everest gave the growling cub a gentle smile, then the cub stopped growling and smiled at Jin and crawled at the boy to give him a hug on the leg.

“Aww” All gushed in chorus from seeing the cub hugging the leg of Jin. Yi went down on her knees holding her hands out at one of the cubs and the first yeti, which is the female walked up at Yi and let Yi grab her and she held the cub in her arms almost letting it fall down due to the weight of the cub. “You’re a little….strong” Yi mentioned trying to hold the cub closer to her face, then had the cub nudge her face on Yi’s forehead.

“I made a new friend again” Jin stated happy, then cried as the yeti cub decided to bite Jin’s hand again, making the little animal chuckle, making Jin shake his head amused by the amusement of the cousin of Everest.

“Hey Everest, have you ever played in a snowball fight?” Peng asked the child yeti, which shook his head. “Come with me, I show you how it works” The Chinese kid mentioned placing his backpack on the ground before running out at the snow-covered ground with the yeti and started to build a small wall out of snow. Jin sat down on the snow to pet the yeti cub on the head, then Yi sat next to him with her yeti on the arms while playing with her, as if she was a toddler.

“Hey wanna play rock, paper, scissor?” Jin offered the cub. “You know” Jin explained forming his hand into a V, then into a fist and the cub nodded understanding, what Jin asked for and held his paw behind his paw. “One, two, three, go!” Jin began holding his flat hand up and the cub made with his fingers a V, scoring one point. “Good, you made one point” Jin mentioned making Yi chuckle.

“You’re losing towards a cub?” Yi questioned making Jin shake his head.

“The game has just started yet, my dear” Jin mentioned, then looked back at the yeti again. “One, two, three, go!” Jin made a V with his hands while the yeti held out a fist. “Again, one, two, three, go!” Jin made a scissor again and the yeti had again held his fist up like a stone. “One, two, three, go!” Jin made a fist and so did the yeti, which didn’t give any of the two a point. “One, two, three, go!” Jin made a paper and the cub made a V, making the boy frown. “How haven’t I scored yet?” Jin asked holding his hand flat and the cub did again the scissor. “I better stay with video games and board games,”

“You’re doing it well. You’re just unlucky” Yi mentioned.

“Hahaha,” Jin said ironically, then the cub watched Everest hide behind a snow-made wall while on the other side beside another wall Peng had thrown a snowball toward Everest landing on the ground beside Everest. The cub, that played with Jin ran at Everest, then made his own snowball and showed it to Everest, which nodded at the cub and he walked to the side to see if he could hit Peng with it.

“It’s great how they’re learning games to play with each other” Jin mentioned, then the other yeti cub pulled Jin on his arms and pointed at the other cub on Yi’s hands, making Jin grin amused at the cub’s favor and he grabbed the yeti lying him down on his arms, then he tickled the cub on the nose making it giggle. “You’re got such beautiful eyes, don’t you? Don’t you?” Jin spoke in a playful voice tickling the yeti’s nose making it laugh. Yi gazed at Jin being all fatherly with the cub and smiled enamored at the scene. “They’re so adorable” Jin confessed taking his hand off the cubs, which grabbed it with his paws to pull it back to him, then Jin sat the cub up, which smiled at the boy big and licked his face up, causing Jin to wail about it.

“Not you too” The raven-haired boy complained about the yeti licking him up with a larger tongue wetting the side of his face including a part of his hair. Yi laughed at the friend, then got licked on her face by the female yeti, making her move her head away from the animal to avoid the sticky tongue.

The third yeti cub came back and yipped to obtain the attention of his fellows, which were dropped down by the teens and the three ran together to Everest, afterward Everest pointed at the new playmates to go to the other side, where Peng was to play in his group.

Jin stood up along with Yi, then both observed the cubs play together with Everest and Peng smiling at the joy they had all in the snowball fight.

“I never saw Peng having so much fun in a snowball fight” The medical student mentioned earning a nod from the girl.

“I think it’s more because of Everest and his cousins” The girl mentioned. “He was hoping he would get the chance to see Everest again and now we’re all here with him” Jin stated earning a nod from the girl.

“I think it was good to come along” Yi mentioned earning a nod from the boy.

“Yeah what if Zara had managed to get, what she wanted?” Jin asked making Yi shrug her shoulders.

“I don’t know, but I think Everest could have handled it. He knows Zara wasn’t quite the nicest person we’ve met, but he wouldn’t do the same mistake he did in the first place to get caught”

“You’re right”

Everest looked back at Yi and Jin and moved his arm, calling the two to join, then Jin lifted his hand thanking Everest for the offer, but he refused it. Everest frowned, then started to hum causing the snow around Jin to pick him up and carry him above the walls up to Peng, dropping him behind the wall.

“Well done Everest” Yi complimented joining Everest’s team, which smiled at the girl, then he shrieked as he got hit by a snowball and saw on the other side Jin laughing after he managed to hit Everest, then Jin widened his eyes as Everest made a snowball, which was as big as a snowman head.

“Everest no!” Jin shouted causing Everest to laugh at Jin’s reaction, before he threw it at Jin.

Dave and Zara’s old friend came along with a piece of large square-shaped ice and light pink squares on it and stopped to see the group on the snowball fight.

“Hey, who wants…..uh fish?” Dave offered unsure about the type of fish they had on the tablet-like ice.

“I think it’s salmon or…..it could also be tuna” The raven-haired man mentioned making Dave shrug his shoulder.

“Peng, Jin, there’s food for us” Yi mentioned watching the two boys leave the back of the wall and make their way up to the two adults, which had the fish on the ice.

“Mmm salmon,” Peng said looking at the ice tableau making Dave laugh.

“I think we need more fish” Dave mentioned and gave the ice to Yi, which took it and sat down with it at the snow-made wall with Jin and Peng next to her.

“Everest do you want one?” Yi asked watching Everest shake his head and hold his hand out, for her to understand, that it was for them only. “Your family probably eats a lot, don’t they?” Yi asked making Everest chuckle.

The three took all one piece to eat and they gazed up at the sky seeing the stars all over the place, making the trio look astonished by how beautiful the stars were up in the dark.

“I totally forgot about the stars” Jin mentioned earning a nod from Yi.

“Your father must be up there watching over you, Yi” Peng mentioned looking up at the girl which nodded.

“He would be proud of us right now” Jin mentioned earning a nod from Yi, while Peng sank his head down a little sad. Jin noticed it and placed his hand on Peng’s hands. “You’re alright cuz?”

“I’ve been thinking…...that this is the second time I brought you two into trouble” Peng started. “I’m sorry about both times”

“Peng don’t blame yourself for that, that’s all my fault….well the first time only. But you don’t need to break your head about that. It was a good thing, we wouldn’t have the chance to befriend Everest and save him from Zara’s hands”

“If we didn’t leave the docks on that night, we wouldn’t have bound more together” Jin mentioned. “We all changed for the better, if you didn’t jump back on that ship the other time I would still be the same self-absorbed douche and Yi would probably continue to avoid contact with her friends or family due to her father’s death,”

“Y...yes that’s kind of true”

“That what you did was the best thing you could have done to us. Even the second time now,”

“I and Yi wouldn’t have figured out, how important it would be to be present at the ash scattering of Mr. Burnish and…...well….” Jin said looking at Yi, which was a little bewildered at Jin and he glanced down at her hand and she got it, then she gave him her hand making the teenage boy smile. “The two of us got now really close together, what I didn’t expect to happen real early” Jin explained the cousin holding Yi’s hand up to his jacket, making Yi smile a little lovely at the boy. Peng moved both his eyebrows up realizing, what Jin was referring to.

“I knew you could do it Jin!” Peng shouted hitting with his fist on Jin’s arm. “What did she say?” The child asked making Jin chuckle.

“Well…..she made it clear, that she loves me” Responded Jin looking at Yi, which lied her head on Jin’s shoulder, followed by him placing his face over her.

“Great” Peng mentioned getting up to walk up at Everest, which was on the ground together with the yeti cubs. “Everest, Jin and Yi are now together, did you know that?” Peng asked making Jin chuckle along with Yi.

“We’re not that far yet” Jin warned getting up on his feet. “But we will achieve it, don’t worry” Jin promised helping Yi up with the fish bits.

“And how long is that going to take?” Peng asked taking a few fish bits from the ice tableau. “Two months?” The boy asked watching Jin swallow two bits of raw salmon.

“It will be one step after the other” Jin mumbled. “And no, it won’t be that long”

“Really?” Peng asked with a smirk,

“Don’t you believe it?” Jin asked crossing his arms making Peng shake his head. Everest who had been watching the three talk had an idea and tapped on Jin’s shoulder. “You believe it, right?” Jin asked the yeti which nodded, then opened his arms up making Jin tilt his head and Everest nodded at the boy, which then opened his arms. “Like this?” Jin asked earning a nod from the yeti which placed his paw behind Yi’s back, which gazed at the yeti questioningly, then Everest thrusts the girl against Jin’s arms while hitting with her forehead on Jin’s nose.

“Everest!” The boy fretted after his romantic interest had hurt his nose. Yi looked up at Jin, who had looked down at her smiling a little abashed and helped her stand straight on her legs, then noticed Peng go to Everest, which had held his fist up for the yeti to fist bump on it. Everest looked at his paw, then formed it into a fist and carefully touched with it on Peng’s fist which nodded.

“We can improve this later,” Peng said looking back at Jin, which observed Peng and the child gave his older cousin a thumb up, then the child yeti copied him making Jin nod. The boy gazed down at the girl, which smiled angelic at the boy, then Jin grabbed Yi’s left hand while he placed his right hand over Yi’s cheek, caressing it watching the girl close her eyes enjoying the affection he was giving her, soon he leaned his head closer to the girl pointing his lips, followed by the girl closing her eyes and going up on her foot tips to get closer to Jin to share her very first kiss.

Peng and Everest looked at each other glad about their friends, then gazed back at them seeing Yi place her arms on Jin’s body and after a couple of seconds, both ended their kiss, gazing at each other romantically followed by Everest rumbling, afterward the two teens gazed at Everest, which smiled at the two along with Peng, which formed with his thumb and index finger a heart and Everest noticed Peng’s show of hands and copied it, earning an impressed smile from Yi.

“Well, we’re not the only ones to be happy about it” Jin mentioned placing his arm behind Yi’s shoulder, which gave him a short peck on the cheek.

“When are we going to scatter the ashes of Mr. Burnish?” Peng asked taking a tuna roll off the ice tableau.

“We can do this after dinner” Jin pointed out. “We still got out ride down there. We don’t have to wait for anyone else of the group”

Everest had accompanied along with his father and the humans back to the road, where the team had left the transporter. Peng carried the backpack with the urn and beside him walked his cousin along with Jin, Yi, Dave and the former leader of the group, that hunted Everest one year ago.

“I think that space is good enough for us all” The raven-haired man mentioned earning a nod from the rest of the group.

“And how does it work?” Peng asked looking at the adults and Dave shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t know” He answered. “I think you have to say a few words and scatter the ashes all over the place”

Jin removed with Yi’s help the urn out of the backpack and noticed on the ground a smartphone and took it out.

“Is that your smartphone?” Yi asked showing it to the child, which shrugged his shoulders.

“I had noticed it on the trip, but forgot to ask Dave about it” Peng answered and the man with the clear face took the smartphone.

“Zara used this smartphone to track him all over China. That’s why we knew, where you were” The man answered.

“How did she know about the trip anyway?” Yi asked watching the man stove the smartphone in his jacket.

“She was in a restaurant on having lunch and heard Peng’s conversation with Dave how they were talking about the yeti and decided to hide her smartphone in it when no one would see it”

“Okay makes sense” Yi answered and she looked at the downhill on the side of the road, then glanced at Jin, which smiled a little tensed about the reunion.

“Who’s going to do the speech?” Peng asked, then Dave and the other adult looked at each other and the taller man raised his arm.

“I’ve been a little longer in business, so I take the honor of doing this”

“Sure” Dave agreed, then the man thought on how he should start it.

“Mr. Burnish loved the long walks and mountain climbing. Inspired by the documentary of the first two mountaineers to make it to the top of the Mount Everest he had got inspired to do the same as them, but by starting with other mountains before he took the chance to climb the Mount Everest for real. On that day he encountered on the top of the mountain a yeti, but he disappeared as soon as it felt threatened by him. Due to his leadership at the Burnish industries and the determination to prove the world, what he saw on the mountain was real he changed a lot during the years turning more cold, forgetting about the ones he loved, the only person in the family to be present was his sister and the people he worked with,” The man spoke. “Deep down inside him he is a really good man, just society made him feel bad about it and he began to do everything possible to be able to prove he isn’t wrong” The man mentioned looking at Dave, which continued.

“I always saw Mr. Burnish to be a very strict man, but I knew how stern he could be if we failed at our tasks in like keeping an animal encaged. On the road trip we all went out to look for Everest I noticed, that Mr. Burnish was very fond of the nature and at the begin, I had the feeling he really hasn’t been out on the nature for a really long time, due to his reaction on the trees all around us, which were regular broadleaf trees. In the end, Mr. Burnish has let Everest go, cause it would be safe for his species to stay hidden, cause not every person would accept them…...well, for their powers and their being. With the months Mr. Burnish began to change everything around his firm until it became what it is today, taking care of animals, that are close to extinct or regular animals, that are found on the streets”

Jin held his hand on the cap of the urn and he looked at the two friends next to him.

“Are you two going to say anything too?” Jin asked and Yi the girl looked at Peng, which shrugged his shoulders.

“I haven’t known you for so long as the others, but I’m thankful for everything good you did after assisting us to bring Everest back home. It’s sad you’re not here anymore with us. If there were more people out there like you doing that, it would be so good”

“Peng, do you want to say something?” Jin whispered earning a nod from Peng.

“Thank you for letting Everest go back to his home. I don’t know how to speak Yetish, but I know Everest was thankful for everything you did for us and anyone else…...After Miss Burnish told us about, what happened to you and told us about your last wish I felt obligated to do that, even when Jin and Yi weren’t well with the idea in the first place…..Thank you for trusting us with such a special mission” Peng finished and looked up at Jin, which thought on anything he could say in the speech of the group.

“I want to thank you for offering us the ride back to Shanghai after we successfully delivered Everest back to his parents. I got to know you as a really wise and experienced person…..Eventually, if I get the chance I’m taking one of Duchess’ kids to my house along with Peng as you offered. Kai had Yi taken with us in the first place, but after we met Mrs. Tsui we decided to let Kai stay with her since she needed a companion more than we did….” Jin stopped and looked back at the others, which looked at him neutrally, then Jin moved the cap and opened it up and moved the urn down to scatter the ashes which flew above them in the air. The trio watched together the ashes fly across the air, disappearing in the darkness making all the present members stay silent with their heads down. Peng slowly started to sob, then Jin passed behind Yi to hug the boy, which embraced the older cousin hard to cry onto his arms. Jin caressed Peng’s back and glanced at Yi, which gazed up at the sky to see the stars all over the place.

“Yi?” Jin whispered seeing Yi pass her hand under her eye to cover a tear, that streamed down her face and she looked back at the raven-haired boy.

“I just thought on my father” Yi explained, then Jin held out his hand for the girl, making her smile a little and she hugged him and Peng at the same time, which reciprocated it. Everest approached the trio and watched them split after the hug, then smiled at the trio and they jumped at Everest’s arms for an embrace making Everest happy and hold them tight on him.

The two adults smiled simper at seeing the kids sharing one last hug with the yeti child and Everest dropped them down and watched the yeti cubs run at the teens jumping at them.

“Be a good girl,” Yi told one of the cubs, which stood in front of Yi shaking his rear in happiness like a dog, then Yi kissed the cub on the forehead and watched the cub go at Jin, which went down on his knees to pet the cub on the head.

“I’m gonna miss holding them” Jin confessed, then got visited by the second cub, which jumped at Jin giving him a lick on his face and follows the first yeti, then the third yeti cub sat in front of the boy starting to growl again at the boy. “You still think I’m bad?” Jin asked shocked, then saw the cub laugh, making Jin smile enchanted by how adorable the laughter of the yeti sounded like. Jin widened his eyes and looked back to see the first two yetis having Jin’s shoes inside their mouth chewing on it making Jin groan annoyed. “So you two are the reason I’m going to freeze my feet off” Jin implied making Yi and Peng laugh at the current situation. “You know what, I offer it to you. So you can remember us” Jin enunciated making the cubs smile and continue to chew on the shoes of the teenage boy.

“We will get you a reserve for your feet, so we can get home in one piece” Yi offered the boy getting down on her own knees, earning a nod from Jin, which leaned his forehead on Yi’s making her smile.

“Okay, kids it’s time to go. We should get out of here carefully, mostly since the road isn’t good and we haven’t got enough seats for us all” The man with the pale face explained earning a nod from Yi and the others. Everest whimpered at his father, which nodded and Everest pointed at the vehicle and back to his father and the group looked at each other, wondering, what the kid was telling them.

“I think Everest said his father is going to bring us down,” Yi said and looked at Everest which nodded and made a tidal wave move with his arm. “With their powers, of course,” Yi added earning a thumb up from the yeti.

“Okay, get in and hold yourself tight. It might get a little turbulent” The man mentioned opening the side door of the vehicle for the whole crew to get back into the van. Dave and the adult sat in front of the cabin and gave the yetis a thumb up and the large yeti adult started to hum to call out a large cloud to pick up the vehicle and he stood on the back of the cloud behind the vehicle, then flew on the cloud away leaving the valley with the rest of the yeti youths back, which waved goodbye at their human friends.

[jazztripp]

Belated Birthday Gift!

For the stinkiest peach ever @momosweetpeach, this was supposed to be a birthday present but time had gotten away from me! But I hope you like it anyways!

Rated: T (sorry no smutt this time around. Just took rotting fluff) Harpy!Max AU Their relationship is already established in this one. Also not beta’d so sorry for errors.

Spring was probably Wilsons favorite season. Sure it was a bit wet, but there was something wonderful about being able to stroll around and not have to worry about food or dying from the harsh elements of the other seasons.

Not that spring didn’t come without it’s own challenges, but they were minute compared to the blistering heat of summer and the terrible cold of winter.

Although Wilson was probably alone in this feeling.

Maxwell hated spring. His perpetual scowl was even more severe come the wet and rainy season, and while Wilson understood his plight, he also found it really funny.

Because it wasn’t exactly the season that Maxwell hated; it was all of the rain. The poor bird-man didn’t do well when he was wet. His feathers came with a certain degree of waterproofing, but he was no duck. Water collected in his soft downish feathers eventually and clung to his too-thin body, making him cold and weighing him down enough to where flying was difficult.

Today, thankfully, was one of the rare dry days of spring and both men were taking full advantage. Wilson busied himself with harvesting the bountiful resources that littered the constant while Maxwell replenished their food stores with the small animals he managed to catch.

Wilsons pack was only half full despite the day coming to its end, and that was okay. They had plenty of resources at the moment to sustain them, so it was no emergency rush to gather, so Wilson was taking his time. The soft cool breezes tickled his hair and lifted his spirits, and he simply couldn’t pass up a little time to relax.

All around him he could hear Maxwell terrorizing the local fauna and it made Wilson smile. Maxwell rarely had fun, but it seemed like he was enjoying himself.

Wilson called to him, knowing full well that the bird-man would be able to hear him.

“Hey Maxy! Find anything good?”

A harsh fluttering came to him ears a few moments later as Maxwell took a perch on a nearby boulder. Weirdo loved being up higher than Wilson even if it was only by a few feet.

“Hmm a few things. Frogs mostly,” despite his obvious good mood, Maxwell still spoke as if everything was making his life unnecessarily difficult. Everything was either a sigh or a grumble.

“Well it’s better than living off of old corn,” Wilson supplied. Last winter they had a metric fuckton of the stuff and Wilson was ready to never look at corn ever again.

“You can say that again,” Maxwell said with a sneer. “Next winter we are stocking up on more preservable things, yes?”

The lanky man hopped down from his perch and folded in his wings as he took in stride along Wilson. Surprised, but genuinely happy, Wilson took up step right beside him and case him a warm smile.

“Definitely. I think I’ve figured out how to pickle things properly. By the end of spring I think I’ll finally be able to get us some pickled eggplant. How does that sound?”

Maxwell humphed, but his back feathers puffed up in anticipation.

“Anything is better than corn.”

At that Wilson laughed. He had no idea why Maxwell could never voice his opinions in a positive manner. It was an odd tick that used to bother Wilson, but now he found it endearing how obnoxiously stubborn the other man was. It wasn’t that hard to just say, ‘Yeah I like that idea’ and move on with the conversation. Everything had to be a negative or a play on words. You had to look into everything the man said. It should have been taxing, but it really wasn’t.

Maxwell was easier to read than most people realized.

On impulse, Wilson ran his fingers over the soft feathers on Maxwells upper arms. Back in the day this would have earned him a wingslap to the face, but now Maxwell didn’t seem to mind. His fingers came away with a couple feathers, and he held them close to his face to examine them.

“You’re moulting again?” Wilson asked as he ran his fingertip over the soft edges.

“Moulting still,” Maxwell corrected. “It comes and goes until it’s all gone come summer. It doesn’t all just fall off in one fell swoop, you know.”

It was a funny image to picture. Just sudden poof, naked Maxwell. Bald and furious.

“What’s so funny, Higgsbury?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he assured through a few chuckles. Maxwell didn’t seem convinced, but he let it drop.

They walked in comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying the company. They basically lived together but it was actually very rare to spend this much time together like this. Wilson had his farms and his science projects to attend to, and Maxwell was a very lonesome fellow and often preferred to keep to himself.

Maxwell would go out and hunt for food or perch up high to keep an eye on Wilson while he worked their modest crop field.

They were usually within earshot of each other, but always doing their own thing, so this was nice.

“You need to shave,” Maxwell said rudely ruining the silence.

Wilson snorted and took Maxwells impressive clawed hand into his and played with the talons.

“It still gets cold at night Maxwell. Unlike you I don’t come with a layer of insulation, and since you refuse to sleep with me I have to make due.”

Maxwell eyed him with barely masked irritation.

“You know I hate the tent, Higgsbury. Damn thing is worse than a cage.”

“Thats a vast overreaction, and you know it. Besides you know if I sleep outside I’ll probably die of exposure so it seems we are at an impasse.”

It was an old argument, so Wilson just gave his automatic response. He was more interested in Maxwells impressive claws. He always wondered what exactly they were made of. Probability pointed to them being made of keratin just like all other forms of claws and nails, but Maxwells were just so thick it was easy to speculate if they were made of something else. Perfectly curved and black as charcoal, they were nearly as impressive as the ones of Maxwells feet.

Now those were a sight. Using his weight and impact to crush small prey, Wilson has watched Maxwell crush and shred through small animals like they were nothing on more than one occasion.

Once, during a particularly desperate time right after a harsh winter, Wilson helped Maxwell take down a Beefalo. They had been starving. The cold kept rabbits and other foodstuffs at bay for far too long into fall, and once Wilsons ribs started to show Maxwell had had enough. It had been his idea, and while Wilson was adverted to putting his lover in danger he went along with it because he was literally starving.

He’d never seen Maxwell act so vicious. Shrieking and clawing at the beast back while Wilson tried his best to spear something vital, it was a hard fought victory.

As they ate Wilson admitted that the display of violence was probably the most attractive thing he had ever witnessed.

Maxwell had blushed and gave a rare smile full of pride.

“Where did you go, Higgsbury?”

Maxwells voice snapped him out of the fond memory and the steamy night that had followed.

“Huh?” he looked up, finding a soft look in Maxwells eyes.

“Are my claws that interesting?” He teased, taking his hand back and hooking said claws in Wilsons messy hair. He gave an attempt to comb it, careful to not let the sharp tips prick him.

“Heh, all of you is interesting, Maxwell. You know I enjoy studying you.”

Maxwell hummed, gently picking a leaf out of Wilsons sideburn.

“Yes I’m very well aware. You’ve been poking and prodding me since we started spending more time together. I still don’t understand your fascination.”

Wilson laughed, the soft picking becoming ticklish and he pushed away those tactile claws.

“Have you considered the possibility that you, Maxwell, are in fact very interesting?” Wilson teased and pushed their shoulders in close so that he could feel the warmth of the other man through his feathers. They had stopped walking at some point.

Maxwell scoffed but this close he couldn’t hide the soft color that came to his cheeks.

“You only find me interesting because there is nothing better around. Remember that albino beefalo? I didn’t see you for months.”

Wilsons eyes misted.

“It…was so cute Maxwell. Could you blame me?….Poor Snowball…”

Maxwell scoffed again, oblivious to the other mans distress and started walking again toward the treeline back toward camp.

“It was a sticking beast. Get a hold of yourself Higgsbury,” Maxwell called back, stretching his wings up and back in an attempt to look bigger.

Maxwell always insisted that the gesture was simply to stretch but Wilson knew better. Maxwell always took every opportunity to show off in Wilson presence, and Wilson always took full advantage.

It was always so nice to see the powerful flight muscles that rippled just below the feathers of Maxwells back.

As they came back into their camp, Wilson was still distraught over the murder of his poor beloved beefalo. Damn hounds got to it. White was a very stand out color.

Go figure.

But he snapped out of it when he head an indignant squawk from up ahead.

“You little bastards!”

“Maxwell?” he called, concerned and broke out into a jog.

As he broke the treeline he gasped at the state of the place. Littered about the camp was the remains of his tent, the science machine lay broken into dozens of pieces, and a few of the chests had been ripped open and their contents scattered about.

Gripping his hair with both hands, Wilson willed himself not to cry as his poor creations lay broken and useless.

Pigmen normally weren’t a problem to he and Maxwell in the slightest, but a wandering few had decided that their camp was a good raiding ground. By the sounds of the terribly squealing in the woods ahead, they were already regretting it.

The urge to help was high, Maxwell wasn’t invincible after all, but the devastation of seeing all of this seasons hard work destroyed was affecting Wilson more than usual.

Even as Maxwell came out of the woods, flushed and furious, Wilson was still staring at the carnage. Ugh this would take all season to fix! And they were finally doing so well too!

“I slaughtered two, but the third got away. Hopefully he’ll tell his friends,” Maxwell said proudly, still baring his sharp teeth in his irritation.

It ebbed a bit, though, when Wilson didn’t answer.

“Higgsbury?” Maxwell approached, eyeing his lover as if he were weary of an outburst. Ridiculous seeing as Wilson would never take his aggression or feelings out on his lover.

“They…God they broke everything! Those…those…bumbling assholes!” Wilson growled and kicked a shattered piece of wood. It went satisfyingly far.

“And it’s almost night! Ugh where am I gonna sleep! I’m sure the furs are all filthy from their feet too,” Wilson all but whined as he gestured to the skeletal remains of his poor tent, and to the rumpled furs that once lined the inside.

Maxwell hummed, his ire dying down completely in the presence of his mates distress.

“We’ll fix the tent tomorrow,” he started as he approached the tattered tent and retrieved the blankets and furs. “These are relatively undamaged,” he called to Wilson, and he sighed in relief at that.

“Well…guess I’m outside with you tonight huh? I’ll….start cleaning up I guess.”

Wilson was mad, oh so mad! But there was nothing to be done now. Maybe they needed to invest in some walls in the future. He knew that Maxwell would love having high walls to sit on, and maybe a complicated gate would deter pigs until the stupid animals got the hint that the camp with the temperamental harpy was not to be messed with.

Regardless it took the rest of the evening to even get the camp somewhat back into shape and take stock of everything that needed to be replaced. It wasn’t as much as he initially realized, but it was still enough to set them back a few weeks. Thankfully the lock that Wilson had made to go around their fridge was too complicated for the pigmen. Their food was thankfully still intact. (And replenished even further by the poor pigs that Maxwell had ripped to pieces for their blunder.)

As the sun began to set, Wilson got to work making a good fire in case the night became chilly. Judging by the temperature now, it was safe to say that it was going to get quite cold. Wilson contemplated getting out some of his winter gear for the night but Maxwell assured him that there would be no need.

“Here. It’s not your precious tent but it will do for the night, yes?” Maxwell said as he gestured to what had been keeping him busy while Wilson tidied up.

Wilson hadn't actually noticed what the bird-man had been up to, but as he looked up it became immediately obvious what he was looking at.

He let out a little breathless laugh, oddly touched as he approached the obvious nest-shaped blankets stacked all cozy under a tree. Close enough to the fire for warmth, but also sheltered in case it started to rain in the night.

“For me?” Wilson asked and Maxwell nodded. Of course it was for him, but he still loved the confirmation regardless.

“No need to look so elated…its just a nest…” Maxwell mumbled, obviously not sure how to take Wilsons delight.

Wilson didn’t care, though, and took the gesture for what it was. Maxwell was taking care of him in the best way he knew how, and that was all that mattered. He took off his boots and took a seat in the surprisingly spacious nest and beamed up at the bird-man.

“Thank you. I love it,” he exclaimed and watched as the feathers on Maxwells shoulders gently fluffed.

“I’m….glad,” Maxwell cleared his throat and shifted from foot to foot.

“Are you gonna join me?” Wilson asked after a moment. “You made this plenty big for two.”

It must have been something that the older man was waiting for because he wasted no time hopping into the nest right alongside Wilson. His enthusiasm made Wilson laugh, and after a moment or two of shuffling Wilson was comfortably laying down with his head resting lightly on Maxwells thigh. In that moment the bony man was suddenly the best pillow in the constant.

“If I hadnt known better….I’d think that you planned this,” Wilson teased, his earlier bad mood completely gone as their warmth mingled together.

Beside him Maxwell snorted.

“Of course not…though I cannot deny the appeal of you occupying a nest of my own creation. Deeply satisfying.”

Curious, Wilson turned his head to look at Maxwell. The other man was looking at him with an expression that did indeed look satisfied. It made Wilson smile.

“Well I’m happy you made it for me…You do alot for me and I don’t know if I even express how truly thankful it makes me.”

Maxwell shifted to free his hand so that he could go back to picking at Wilsons hair as he spoke.

“You say it plenty…I’d do it even if you weren’t thankful, Higgsbury.”

Wilson laughed, leaning into the touch.

“I bet you would complain a hell of alot more, though.”

Maxwell smirked, the nighttime reflection of his eyes catching the firelight and making them glint.

“Yes. Yes I would. Now go to sleep. We’ll set about fixing everything in the morning when it’s cool enough to work. I’ll even help you,” Maxwell added as if it were an afterthought, making Wilson snort.

“Ah the Great and Powerful Maxwell has offered my help. I’m forever in your thanks.”

Whether he had actually caught onto the sarcasm or not was a mystery because Maxwell neither looked affronted or amused.

Instead he replied with a calm, “You’re welcome,” and got comfortable as he continued to muss the scientists hair. It was easy to fall asleep like that, and for once he didn’t mind sleeping out under the stars. Maybe he should invest in some kind of…open air tent? Something like that. He could really get used to sharing a nest with Maxwell every night, and he was pretty sure that Maxwell would feel the same if he could nail the design.

He already had a few ideas in his head as the gently petting put him straight to sleep.

[minas-writing]

Character Tuesday - Lineage - Ward

World: Unhallowed

Length: 2k words

Summary: The Terrible King has come ahead of the bulk of the army to “negotiate.” Ward tries to convince him to abandon the invasion, but things quickly snowball downhill into a ditch full of spikes on fire. (Metaphorically.)

@homesteadchronicles :)

—————

Ward left the command pavilion unaccompanied. He walked past people carrying weapons, sewing leather, moving piles of hay, boiling water. It wasn’t quite sunset yet, so no Saihrwn were making music to lighten the mood. His hands clenched as he tried to keep his walk easy and his back straight. His thumb rubbed his middle finger, looking to twist his ring, but of course it was gone. It had been missing for years, yet Ward had never gotten used to its absence. Tips from the human council flew through his head, clashing with what Ward remembered from his father’s lessons.

Make eye contact, don’t cast your gaze around, keep your face still and your stance firm. Your first offer should be larger than what you’re really looking for, as it will get bartered down. Don’t let them see how scared you are. Don’t be scared in the first place, you’re more powerful than anyone else.

Ward shook his head, trying to clear it. He stepped over the border of the park and the sounds of the war camp behind him quieted, courtesy of the invisible barriers that the few mages had erected. Evening traffic bustled on the town's streets beyond the barrier. Ward got a few strange looks, but Unhallowed coming and going from the park were no longer a strange sight. After a short walk, Ward reached the easternmost border of the city.

Guards, both Unhallowed and not, stood posted every few feet on the border. They watched the small contingent of soldiers that had set up camp a few hundred yards away. Ward crossed the line that they held, noticing the looks that a few of them exchanged. His visit to the Terrible King’s small camp was planned, but his being alone likely surprised them. Leaving the entourage had a purpose, though Ward wished they could have told the guards about it. As it was, they’d probably get ideas about his spying on them for the King.

Well, there wasn’t anything he could do about it now. Ward crossed the wild grass to the temporary wood-and-canvas building and climbed the creaking stairs. A pair of burgundy-clad guards at the front entrance scowled at him and shifted their weight to look more threatening. Oh, right.

Ward let a small part of his human disguise bleed away. His skin grayed, his ears pointed, his teeth lengthened, his eyes smoked. The guards stammered hasty apologies as they bowed and allowed him to pass. They most likely assumed he was a spy, too, though as far as Ward knew, all the Unhalloweds believed that Ward was dead at human hands. Ward felt the gazes of the city’s soldiers on his back.

The door to the building opened into darkness. Ward took a hesitant step in, closing the door behind him. The sun shone as only light source, peeking through gaps in the construction and the weaving of the canvas walls, though Ward saw the scene before him as if it were lit by several electric lamps. A single, huge desk stood in the middle of the room, paper and parchment strewn across its surface. A silvery horn hung from the ceiling a few feet away in a leather harness - the Horn, Ward thought. One man sat behind the desk, his focus wholly on whatever work he was doing on the desk.

“Heir. I wondered when they would send you.” The Terrible King didn’t look up as he addressed Ward.

“My name is Ward, Father.”

“Adopting a human name, as well, hm?” The King inked his pen and went back to writing. “You already have the appearance. One might think you’d like to be a human.”

Ward’s face heated, but he let the rest of his disguise drop. He needed the power, anyway.

“Unfortunately, you cannot fix your clothing that way. It’s a shame. Your grandfather is rolling over in his grave, I’m sure.”

“Father.” Ward resisted the urge to stomp his foot, and instead settled for an incensed tone. “I’m not here to discuss my uniform.”

“Is that what you call it?”

“I’m here to negotiate.”

he King stopped and looked up. He studied Ward’s face for an instant with his smoky yellow eyes, then sighed and put his pen down. It rolled until it was stopped by - Ward’s ring. It lay on the desk, inconspicuous among the maps and bottles of ink.

“What are you hoping to gain from a negotiation?” the King asked, bringing his hands together. “What are you thinking to sacrifice?”

Ward took a deep breath, ignoring his father as best he could, and launched into the spiel that the human council members had written for him. “For years, the Unhallowed Kingdom and Lovely Countries have been at peace, but - ”

“No!” the King shouted, banging the table and standing up. Ward stopped, shocked but not surprised. “No, no, no! You are becoming one of them. They taint your mind! You do not see the situation as it is.”

“I’m learning - ” Ward began.

“To complicate everything!” the King finished. “See the truth, my son. My Heir. When I invade, not if, the pitiful armies of the Lovely Countries will collapse like paper flowers in a fire. Even if our own rebellious people supplement them, those armies will - not - stand.”

With a shake of his head, Ward opened his mouth to retort, but the King continued without giving him a chance. He was a steam train headed for the horizon, no sign of stopping, one clear destination.

“You know this! It is why you are trying so hard to negotiate. Your armies will fall before mine, and when they do, I will gain anything you could ever offer me. Money, land, resources, everything you have now will be mine. I ask again, what do you think you can give me that I cannot gain with the easiest invasion in history?”

The King wasn’t wrong. The Lovely Countries couldn’t stand up to the Unhallowed armies, not without some ace in the hole. And they didn’t have one. What could they give the King, really? All the earlier tips and advice had abandoned Ward’s head.

“You can’t gain the people’s love and will with an invasion,” Ward spat out after several precious seconds. He didn’t think it would convince his father - the King had never particularly cared about his public image. He was the King and always would be.

Sure enough, the King laughed without humor. “I don’t need their love. Your beloved human leaders didn’t think so, either, earlier this week. They offered me a number of slaves to desist. I was nearly tempted, too.”

“What?” Ward didn’t believe what he was hearing. “No, they wouldn’t.”

“They did.”

“I don’t believe you. You’re trying to put doubts in my mind.” Ward folded his arms and widened his stance, refusing to budge. Doubts rooted in his mind anyway.

The King smiled, showing sharp fangs and too many teeth. “Of course I’m telling you to rile you up. Yet it’s also the truth - that I swear, on my power and on my name.”

Thunder sounded in Ward’s mind as he tried to reconcile the thought. No. The council members were moral. They wouldn’t do that. But the King had sworn on his name. Ward turned his head away and closed his eyes.

“They are fickle, Heir!” the King boomed, leaning forward over his desk. “One moment they dance for you, and the next, they grovel for me. You will be King someday, boy, and you must learn the nature of all humans, especially those untouched by magic. You must be powerful.”

“Even if they said that,” Ward finally got out as he looked back at his father, “I wouldn’t have let them go through with it.”

“Planning a coup, are you?” The King smiled again. Ward scowled. “You’ll need this for that.” He tossed something small at Ward, who caught it out of reflex.

His ring. Ward wasn’t about to complain, though he felt more than a little confused. He slipped his ring on, feeling its power sing through him once again.

The King’s eyes smoked. “Always be on alert, Heir.”

Ward’s fist began to glow, his powers reacting to the increased amount of energy and Ward’s own panic.

“Humans are so unpredictable.” The King stepped out from behind his desk and began to prowl across the back of the room. “You never know when one will stab you in the back.”

Though he knew there wasn’t anything there, the hairs on the back of Ward’s neck stood up. He glanced behind him, just in case. The King laughed. From the corner of his eye, Ward saw a flash of orange, and he jumped to the side just in time for a small ball of fire to miss him. The King shot at him again, and Ward dodged to the right. The canvas walls of the tent smoldered but didn’t catch.

“Attack, boy! I trained you better than this! Or did those years in the Lovely Countries turn you soft?”

“Leave the Lovely Countries alone, Father!” He twisted out of the way of another fireball. The King took another step forward, and Ward followed suit.

“The only way to quell their traitorous tendencies is to oppress them. You cannot - ”

Ward shot a burst of flame of his own at the desk, and the papers there erupted in flames. The King’s grin grew. The sharp shadows on his face danced in the firelight.

“You are learning. Good.”

This isn’t a show! Ward thought, angry. He had to end it, and soon. There was only one thing he could think of that his father might not be expecting. Ward prepared a fireball, his hand beginning to glow again. The King watched him, waiting for another opportunity to provoke or taunt.

Ward exploded. Well, he made his firelight explode outward, making it seem like he was at the center of a bright detonation... which he kind of was. Sure enough, the King’s expression changed, and he threw up an arm to protect his face. In the blinding light, Ward lunged forward a few feet, snatched the silver Horn, and dashed out the door. He didn't bother to open it. The wood did not resist Ward's passage. Outside, the Unhallowed guards jumped.

The afterimage of the fire still burned into Ward’s eyes, and so he knew that the King was going to blind for a moment more. Maybe he’d think that Ward teleported? Ward didn’t want to wait to find out. He rushed down the stairs, getting back on solid ground, and rushed toward the line of familiar soldiers. The King's laugh behind him carried, and Ward wondered how much of their conversation had been overheard.

When he tried to pass into the city, the two guards there crossed their spears in his path. Their eyes searched him with caution, and their boots pressed footprints into the trodden grass. Ward halted. He chanced a glance behind him, but the King hadn’t followed. He hadn’t even left the canvas building. Ward felt safe stopping to breathe. He tightened his grip on the Horn and pulled at the remaining pool of his power. That blast of light had used most of Ward's energy, so establishing his disguise again would be more difficult than it should have been, even with the ring's boost.

Ward shut his eyes and tried to reassert the deep human skin tone and blunted teeth. “I apologize,” Ward said out loud to the guards. His shoulders sagged. “The King isn’t good for my stress levels.”

“Oh, it’s you,” one of the guards said. He finished lifting his spear, and his partner did the same, but with less certainty. A voice in the back of Ward's head - his father's - told him to punish them for their insolence and supplied a handy image of their smoking corpses on the grass. Ward ignored it. He gave a weary smile and passed the border without fanfare.

Despite the dream goblins dragging his mind down a dark hole, Ward passed his tent. First he would pass the silver Horn to Laurel, who would understand what to do with it. Then Ward would confront the human council about their outdated views on slavery. It was primitive, even by their own standards. Ward would know, he'd read their books.

When all that settled, Ward could sleep.