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theoreticslut · 4 years

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“You don’t share real well”

pairing: fred weasley x reader x george weasley

requested: no

word count: 2k

warnings: none, fluff maybe

A/N: this is totally just a fluff idea I had based on how I’ve rarely ever shared a bed with anyone and how totally inept I am at leaving the blankets alone. If I don’t rip them off the bed to form myself into a burrito, then they’re kicked off the end of the bed. I hope some people relate to this or at the very least find it funny and enjoyable. Leave me comments and let me know what you think! Xx

Taglist: send me a message/comment if you’d like to be added to a general taglist!!

It had been a long few months since you’ve last seen your two best friends. When Fred and George decided to drop out of school, it became nearly impossible to see them since you couldn’t easily leave the castle. You sent letters back and forth nearly every day, and you had managed to sneak out once or twice, but it wasn’t the same as what you were used to with them.

In one of their last letters they sent you they said that they’d meet you at the burrow before their brother’s wedding.

That was still about two weeks ago though and you were more than excited to see them. You missed the two idiots more than anything, except you couldn’t say anything about them visiting to anyone else as they wanted it to be a surprise.

You had been staying at the burrow pretty much since school let out as your parents weren’t really around. Molly didn’t mind because in all honestly she saw you as a second daughter. She knew how close you and the twins were, as well as how the younger two Weasleys looked up to you as an older sibling

“Y/n, dear. Why don’t you go up to bed? You look exhausted.” Molly suggests after you’ve zoned out for the fourth time in twenty minutes.

You had been helping prepare for the wedding; making sure the house was tidied up from top to bottom, make sure the yard was in top condition, helping prep all the food and bake the desserts. Truthfully you have been busy for the last week.

“Are you sure, Molly? I’d like to help finish up.” You yawn even though it’s only about 9:30 at night.

“I’m sure, dear. Go on to bed, now. Tomorrow will be a bit of relaxation before the big day.”

You nod, smiling sleepily at the woman you’ve come to see as a mum. You were more than grateful for her, but felt guilty for not being able to keep up.

She reassured you again that you were fine to go to bed and nearly had to push you towards the stairs herself.

“Goodnight. Thank you for everything.”

“Thank you for all the help. Now get.” She smiles, shooing you away.

Tiredly, you make your way up the stairs to the twins’ room. It had been sitting empty for months as they had pretty much immediately moved into the apartment above their shop.

Since it had been left empty, Molly was more than happy to let you take it over when you were there. You hadn’t changed much except for pushing the beds together to make one big bed.

You liked both of the twins as more than friends, so it felt wrong to you to choose just one of their beds. Even though it wouldn’t have made a difference to anyone, you just couldn’t bring yourself to choose.

Sighing as you close the door, you make your way to your bags that you hadn’t bothered to unpack even though you’ve been here over a month and a half already. You dig through until you find a pair of pajama shorts and an oversized shirt you were positive you had stolen from one of the twins at some point.

Having changed and brushed through your hair, you throw yourself onto the bed and snuggle into the mass of blankets that were a mix from both the beds. Not even five minutes after laying down you found yourself falling into a deep sleep.

~.~

“Fred, shhh. You’re gonna blow our cover.”

“Oh it’s not like anyone is awake. Everyone around here sleeps like a log.”

You groan softly as the two wake you. You shouldn’t have expected anything different, those two boys wouldn’t know quiet if it hit them in the face.

“Would you both shut up. I was sleeping peacefully.” You grumble, not bothering to look at them instead keeping your eyelids shut to hopefully not lose any of the sleepiness.

“Merlin’s beard, y/n. What are you doing in our room?” Fred asks, not even noticing the beds yet as you startled him.

“It’s become my room while I’m here thank you.”

“Uh huh. Is that why the beds have been pushed together, love?” George asks, setting his stuff down and going to take off his jacket.

“Mmhmm.” You hum, still trying to get back to sleep.

“Where are we supposed to sleep then?�� Fred asks, and you just know he has a pout playing on his lips.

“Take a side and shut up. Please. I’m tired.” You mumble, attempting to bury your head in the pillows.

The twins chuckle at you, shaking their heads as they both find some pajamas to change into. Once changed they climb into the bed either side of you, curling around you, covering themselves with the blankets.

“Good night, love.” George whispers, kissing your shoulder as you’re currently facing Freddie.

“G‘night, Georgie. G’night, Freddie.”

“Good night, princess. He smiles, placing a kiss to the top of your forehead.

Soon enough your back to sleep with the twins following soon after.

~.~

George groans as he wakes up. What for he’s not sure. Not until he realizes that he has no blanket.

He looks over at you, rubbing his sleep-filled eyes to see you seemingly buried in blankets as you apparently stole them from both him and Freddie.

Chuckling he works on yanking them out from under you. Usually whenever you all had fallen asleep together, whether on purpose or not, you each had your own blanket. He honestly can’t recall a time when any of you had shared a blanket.

Finally he gets enough blanket to cover up with again, this time trying to curl up closer to you and tucking the edge of the blanket underneath him to keep it on him. He wonders if he should try covering his twin back up, but decides he really doesn’t care too much about it at this moment. Instead, he’d much rather go back to sleep.

Not even twenty minutes later, Freddie wakes up freezing. He sighs when he sees you’ve taken them, shaking his head but smiling at you nonetheless. You’re too damn cute when your sleeping for him to be mad at.

Same as his brother, Fred starts pulling at the blankets to get some to cover up with. He, too, moves in a bit closer but doesn’t think to tuck the other side underneath him.

~.~

You sigh, waking up from a dream that you already fail to remember. You huff as you feel like you’re in satan’s sauna. Between the blankets, the twins’ body heat, and being squished in the middle you feel like you’re burning alive.

Carefully you try to wiggle yourself out of Fred and George’s hold to pull the blanket down just enough to get some fresh air.

Soon enough you’re falling back asleep at just the right body temperature.

~.~

You groan as you roll over, not yet opening your eyes. You can tell it’s daylight, but not quite time to get up. Maybe another hour or two.

“Merlin, y/n.” You hear George huff. You frown, why is he huffing at you this early in the morning?

“What? Why are you huffing at me?” You mumble, just barely able to open your eyes to look at him.

“You don’t share real well, you know that?” He asks, looking down at you as he reaches for something at the bottom of the bed.

“What do you mean, Georgie?” You still mumble. You really aren’t ready to be up yet.

“You’ve kicked the blankets all the way to the end of the bed. And that’s not even half of what you’ve done throughout the night.” He chuckles, finally grabbing hold of the blanket and pulling it up over the two of you.

You groan, not wanting to be under the blanket. You’re comfortable. You try to push the blanket off you but George just wraps his arms around you and pulls you into him.

“Georgie, it’s too hot.” You huff, pouting at him.

“Just go back to sleep for awhile. It’s still too early.” He sighs, burying his head into the crook of your neck.

“You’re such a pain.” You huff, giving into the younger of the twins.

“Go to sleep, princess. And please stop taking the blankets from us.” You hear Freddie mumble, his face smooshed into the pillows and facing away from you.

You huff, pouting a bit at how rude the twins are being this morning. True you had been the same last night when they snuck in, but they were being loud, you aren’t.

“Quit your pouting, love.” George states, kissing your shoulder and nuzzling his face into your neck, leaving soft kisses along your skin.

“You’re the one who’s had us up all night trying to figure out where the blankets are. If you hadn’t taken them all for yourself, you had kicked ‘em away so no one had them.” Fred grumbles, turning to face you and George.

“Or you had pushed us to the very edge of the bed.” George adds, chuckling slightly as his head in still buried in your neck.

“Oh....I’m sorry, guys.”

“It’s alright, princess. Just let us have a few more hours of sleep, please.” Fred smiles, kissing your nose.

“We’ll be ready to be up, then.” George finishes the thought, kissing your neck.

You nod and smile giving both boys a kiss on their forehead or cheek before cuddling up with them and drifting back to sleep for a bit.

✨ BONUS ✨

“Y/n, dear. I have a question-“ Molly starts to say as she opens the door, waking you and the boys.

“Fred, George! What are you doing here?”

“Mmm, Good morning, Molly.” You hum, a bit groggy from waking up. “Oh! W-we haven’t done anything...” you say, suddenly realizing that you’re wrapped up in both the twins’ arms. You can only imagine what she must be thinking.

“Oh, I know, dear. I’m not worried about that one bit. Honestly, I’m more surprised you haven’t. The way you all are with each other.”

“Mum!” The two boys groan, earning a chuckle from their mother as they blush a bit.

“I’m just saying. Anyways, y/n. I had a question; which do you think would look better with the flowers we already have?” Molly asks, holding up two different filler flowers.

“How about we use some of both? They’re both really pretty and would look great together with the flowers.” You yawn, still trying to wake up fully.

“That they would. Good idea, hon.” She smiles, going to walk out the room.

“I’ll be down soon to help with breakfast.” You call out to her.

“Don’t you worry about it one bit dear. You take your time!” She calls back, already heading down the stairs.

“She loves you.” Fred says, leaning over to you.

“And you’re just realizing this now?” You chuckle, sitting up a bit. “I’m a more tame version of you two, of course she loves me.”

“A bit full of ourselves, aren’t we?” George chuckles as you do a small hair flip.

“You know it’s true.” You smirk, winking at him as he and Freddie break out laughing.

“That’s why we love you.” They say simultaneously, looking at you lovingly.

You smile, blowing each a kiss.

“Now let’s get up boys,” you say, lightly slapping their legs. “I’ve been helping make breakfast the entire time I’ve been here, you can come help me this one time.”

“We can head down in a few minutes. We didn’t get as warm a welcome as we were hoping for last night.” Fred smiles as he pulls you back down by the waist, leaning over you and kissing your nose.

“You were being too loud.” You giggle as he continues placing kisses around your face, George placing light kisses around your neck.

“And?”

“And I was trying to sleep!” You point out.

You giggle as George’s hand trails up your side, tickling your skin as he does.

“Just love us for a bit, darling. We’ve missed you.” George smiles, placing a kiss on your lips.

“You two are unbelievable.” You sigh in exasperation, but giving into both of them. None of you have ever made things official, but it was pretty clear that you were theirs and they were yours.

“Isn’t that why you love us?” Fred asks, taking his turn kissing your neck and sucking at the spot just behind and below your ear. You gasp at the pleasure of it as he smirks.

“One of the reasons.” You smile, pulling both of them into a hug. You were more than elated to have them here with you again. You’d never say it aloud but you missed the two dorks so much.

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moonlitceleste · 4 years

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dream of you (ch 1)

Marinette and Jason are soulmates… except according to them and everyone else, they’re not.

A/N: I’m so excited to be posting this, because it’s actually the first Maribat idea I ever had! I started writing it 10 months ago in the form of a one-shot, but I struggled a lot because I was putting too much pressure on myself to finish it all at once. I finally decided to break it into chapters, and I’m so so excited! I hope you guys will be too :D I based this chapter on what I originally wrote and just edited a bit, so it’s a little choppy because my writing style has changed quite a bit. It’ll get better soon, so don't worry!

Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Jason Todd first met in a dream.

She was ten years of age when it happened, still young and small and fresh-faced.

Her parents tucked her into bed that fateful night, pulling the fluffy pink covers over her body before leaving a goodnight kiss on her brow.

Marinette closed her eyes and snuggled deeper into the soft material with a smile on her face; it was one of the few times they were home, and she made sure to cherish every moment.

The door closed with a quiet click only moments later, after which she yawned and stretched her short arms in the air before wrapping them around her black cat plushie.

Content in the safety of her burrito blanket she nestled down further, breaths evening out into a slow, steady pace as she seamlessly drifted off into sleep.

After what felt like a night’s rest but was actually seconds after falling into unconsciousness, Marinette opened her eyes and blinked blearily. Her vision blurred as she sat up and stretched, drowsiness and lethargy slowing each movement.

It wasn’t until she opened her eyes once more that she realized she was no longer in her room.

Rather than pink-painted walls, she was met with what looked like an endless expanse of stars, scattered and strewn as far as the eye could see. It was as if someone had sprinkled fairy dust from the heavens, like diamond fragments that rained down before being suspended in midair.

Most would react with fear upon finding themselves in an unfamiliar destination, but Marinette was much too awestruck to consider it an option.

The sight was spellbinding, so much so that she barely paid attention to the green blades tickling her legs.

The sky was a pitch-black veil, the darkness assuaged only from the light of the brilliant full moon and twinkling stars. They flickered invitingly, winking at her in a playful manner.

They looked close enough to touch, as if she could simply pluck one from the sky; Marinette reached out in wonder, just barely able to make out the outline of her hand in the darkness.

Despite being somewhere completely foreign, she felt an odd sense of familiarity and contentedness settle into her bones and warm her chest. It felt right.

She lowered herself back into the lush grass, legs splayed before her and arms propped behind. With her head tilted up at the sky, she closed her eyes and let herself relish in the sensation of the warm breeze ruffling her hair.

Marinette didn’t know how long she had been sitting there before she finally looked up. It was on sudden impulse; she swore she could feel someone’s presence beside her, like the tingling sensation one felt when another’s gaze was on them.

Her instinct proved to be right, because only seconds later, she caught sight of a shadowed figure slumped in the grass a few feet from her.

The moon illuminated the person’s face enough that she could just barely discern their features; it was a boy, who appeared to be in deep slumber judging by the steady rhythm of his rising and falling chest.

Long, dark lashes framed his closed eyes, and his fair skin glowed luminously under the moonlight. Silky strands of hair brushed against his forehead, ruffling slightly in the wind; Marinette’s juvenile curiosity made her want to reach out and shake him awake, but the serene expression on his face stopped her as her hand was only mere inches from his shoulder.

Scooting some distance away, she opted to lay spread eagle on the grass with her hands beneath her head and closed her eyes as if she were soaking up the moonlight.

She could always wait for the strange boy to wake up—right now, she had all the time in the world.

Unbeknownst to her, the person beside her began to stir.

☁️

Jason blinked open his eyes and let out a low groan, fully prepared for the full force of Gotham winter to hit him as soon as he came back into consciousness.

But as his hands pushed himself up, he soon noticed the soft ground underneath him, so unlike the hard concrete of the streets he slept on every night

He sat up abruptly at this realization.

Something was wrong.

This time of year, he never woke up without feeling the brutal chill that froze his limbs over and made his teeth chatter.

He never woke up with a full stomach, or with the feeling of calmness that was currently overtaking his senses.

Everything felt right, and it did nothing but disconcert him. Nothing in Jason’s life ever went right.

His eyes darted around the strange place cautiously, taking in the view; part of him wanted to sit and stare at the twinkling stars in awe, but he forced the juvenile desire down. He couldn’t afford to get distracted.

He was in the middle of quickly assessing his immediate surroundings when a quiet gasp broke the bubble of tranquility around him.

Before he knew it he had shifted into a fighting stance, and he whipped around to see a figure sitting on the grass a short distance away.

His entire body tensed at the bluebell eyes staring back at him in shock; they belonged to a girl with short black hair, seemingly a few years younger than him, whose lips were open in an “o” shape.

Jason’s brain urged him to move, to do something, but his body refused to obey. It was as if time had frozen him in that stance, rendering him incapable.

The trance was broken as the girl scrambled to her hands and knees and stood, eyes shining with wonderment.

The next words, spoken in a breathless voice, were written in the stars.

“You’re my soulmate.”

PERMANENT TAGLIST @avengerthewarrior *@bluesimani @enternalempires @flower-girll @freesportspalacesalad @glastwime859 @h1sss @heart-charming @jalaluvsu @kitsunebell @maskedpainter @moongoddesskiana @nathleigh *@no-username2544 @too0bsessedformyowngood

#celestewrites #maribat #jasonette #soulmate au #cel's fics

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oristromboli · 3 years

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If You Be Our Star, We’ll Be Your Sky | 1

Chapter 1: Haunted Memories

In which you grapple with past events bleeding into the present.

(Smut this chapter: none)

“The arrogation of mankind ends here.”

Things became a blur after that – your wings burst forth and you saw the twins take off in opposite directions as you split down the middle. Like some dance, the three of you wove between oscillating pillars of dark shapes folding in on themselves before all converged in on the imposing woman. She was no different from any other gate, any other obstacle you needed to cross between worlds; while you were often the one to suggest the quiet and efficient route, the twins charged forward with one clear goal in mind. Two-against-one were bad odds, especially when it was you between a rock and a hard-place – or, more accurately, squeezed between one twin and the other. You pitied the god as she braced for their combined onslaught, clearly unaware of what hell would rain down-

Except. Except, suddenly, you witnessed the twins suspended in mid-air, caught and strung up for their audacity.

You didn’t think, you couldn’t think, you dove for the first twin you saw and yanked them away from that void that crept from her fingers.

Lumine looked up, shocked and horrified all at once, and indescribable shame turned to ice in your blood. While you held on to Aether, you both witnessed Lumine become swallowed in that blackness, that.. nothingness, and you could only let go of Aether as he shot forward to flank the god.

His sword was drawn and in a flash of light did it seem to make contact. You quickly joined his side with hopes to see Lumine amidst the chaos. Everything would be okay again, you three could go back to adventuring, she would forgive the split-second decision, you told yourself. That is, until you saw the god tall and proud with barely a scoff as she looked at you two without even the decency of contempt. In that moment, you suddenly understood the impulsive twins’ tempers. You both dove towards the god, weapons drawn and red in your eyes.

Wait. Wait, no, that’s not right. The red was neither your anger nor panic, but the god’s powers enclosed on you both.

“Wait! Stop! Give my sister back!” Aether cried, and you closed your eyes, wishing to all the stars above that this was all a dream and you could stop suffocating –

---

“Paimon! Paimon, get off of her,” Aether said, laughing as he lifts the fairy off of your chest and what the fuck Paimon.

“Aw, Paimon just wanted to help! She wasn’t waking up, so Paimon thought that shaking her would help,” she said, pouting as you felt her tiny paws release your shirt to only hang limply as she was carried like a sack of potatoes away from you. Emergency rations indeed.

“Okay, we need to have a serious talk about you and personal boundaries,” you mutter while you sit up, massaging feeling back into your collarbone. “If you don’t want to be designated as mascot number two behind our lil’ buddy, I suggest you start losing some weight before sitting on me.” You jerk your thumb towards Aether’s belt where a small glass ball hung and a golden Seelie flickered rhythmically. Is it snoring?

“Hey! Paimon is not mascot number two! And Aether’s cooking is too good…” she mumbles, flipping between indignant to having the gall to look somewhat guilty as she breaks free from his grasp. That didn’t last long, though, as Aether snickers with an incriminating finger poking the fairy.

“So, you admit to being our mascot?”

You very quickly tune their bickering out and set out about collecting your own bedroll before moving on to Aether’s. Most of your powers were sealed except for the few convenient ones, such as access to a subspace for storage and the ability to travel quickly within Teyvat, but otherwise, everything else was left for discovery. In that way, organizing your campsite became quick and easy work on the days that you weren’t woken by Hilichurls looking to turn your bedrolls into breakfast burritos.

Actually, scratch that. Hilichurls are better than Paimon ‘accidentally’ strangling you.

Aether’s laugh rings clear around you as he stretches his lithe body, already limber and prepared for the day. He never seemed to care much about comfortable beds – or, well, any basic comforts – but Paimon is right, he makes damn good meals. In your many months on Teyvat looking for Lumine, you both fell into a steady rhythm where he cooked and acted as a de facto leader while you archived everything you came across. Between the three – no, the two of you - you were often the one taking notes and painting the landscape around you in an effort to remember these adventures while Aether acted as the beacon of hope for the locals.

Even if Aether fills Lumine’s role easily, you can tell it was never comfortable.

You pause at that thought, glancing over to Aether who was making very exaggerated gestures to what you can only assume are his steps for Paimon à la carte. The ball holding your new friend bounces around with his movements, but the Seelie inside seemed unperturbed, if you were being honest. He never parted with the creature, and you were sure it was equally possessive of its new master.

In his own way, you think Aether tries to be subtle about it: between the Seelie’s ethereal golden glow and its headstrong personality, you can’t help but notice how he cradles the ball with a forlorn expression some nights. It was only polite to roll over in your pretend-sleep and very pointedly not comment. When he wasn’t wrapped around the ball, you laid next to him and held him as tightly in silent understanding, often falling asleep tangled like that.

The tear stains are always ignored the morning after.

You swallow around a sudden lump and turn around, fumbling for your own journal to see the next tasks for the day. Despite your own emotions, you know that Aether doesn’t blame you, he told you himself many times and says that there was only one of you. Still, you can’t help but wonder if - while he doesn’t blame you per se - he wishes it was Lumine you chose and not him. Ever the self-sacrificing big brother.

A red thread lies hidden in the page you left off, acting as a sort of make-shift bookmark. Wrapped in knots and with a sort of tender care for the regal dragon with amber eyes near the bottom is a single Starconch, dangling around with each gentle breeze. If anybody asks you, you would deny it vehemently, but you swore you could hear laughter from that conch sometimes from another big brother. Twirling the sapphire item, you can’t help the bittersweet smile that breaks out on your face against the stupid memory.

---

You decided to stray from Liyue that day, most of your daily commissions done with Aether treating Paimon to dinner afterward. Like two parents, you switched days on who gets the honors of taking the overgrown child while the other relishes in time for themselves. It was natural; though you were used to traveling as a pack, sometimes you just… needed to get away.

Apparently, you weren’t the only one with that idea as you soon spied a figure lounging in the sandy beaches close to the city. When you were close enough to see the scarf billowing in the breeze, you stopped and immediately held your breath. Shit, shit, shit, did he know you were here? Maybe if you just quietly turned around, you could get away and leave the Eleventh Harbinger alone. Not that you were strangers to each other. Far from, actually, as you grew friendly with each other over the many weeks - or has it been months? Time flows differently in this world – spent together in Liyue.

“Hey, girlie,” he calls without looking your way and you freeze. Whelp, there goes that plan.

“H-hey,” you stutter, only to stop and tap your throat lightly before trying again. “Hey, Childe. Sorry, I didn’t see you there. I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

He snickers and turns then with a wide smile, yet it wasn’t as feral as you expected. If anything, he seems distant. “No, you’re fine. Looking for some peace and quiet from that stir-fry?”

“Oh, how did you know,” you say with a small smirk as you walk closer. Childe looks up at you and pats the sand next to him. No harm in that, sure, you could sit down. He was better company than Paimon at the moment, anyway. At that thought you grimace briefly, when the hell did you want to spend more time with a Fatui Harbinger? Still, you join him in watching the waters dance across the sand.

Okay, yeah, you can admit the view is gorgeous. Liyue never fails you in that regard with its mountains and crystal clear waters. The trees are always an explosion of color while the geography varies dramatically from one corner to another. You're certain Childe thought the same despite his incessant complaints about the heat.

Which, speaking of, he was unusually quiet and focused. When you glance at him, you only notice then he was thumbing a small, blue shell with a star on it. He catches your eye and holds up the conch. “Mm? This? You know, there’s an old legend in Liyue that says that if you hold the conch up to your ear, you can hear what your heart longs for,” he says as he flicks the conch to your hands. “For most, that’s the sea, of course. All the boats, all the business opportunities. Maybe you’ll hear the gremlin’s whining?”

You punch his shoulder lightly while he laughs, all the while eyeing you carefully. Maybe this was your cue to listen? However, when you hold the conch up, you didn’t hear the sea at all. Almost… suffocatingly empty, like… Your eyes widen, imperceptible to all except for damnably sharp Harbinger who you felt nudging against your foot from his own. “So? What’d you hear?”

“I hear… the ocean. The one between worlds,” you lie before you held it back out to him.

Childe guessed yours and Aether’s otherworldly - or rather, "not human" as he put it - status early on. You weren’t surprised coming from someone who carefully pointed out the use of elemental powers without visions, so you never bothered to obfuscate your stories from other realms too deeply. How Zhongli suspected, however, was beyond you at the time. The funeral consultant dismissed Aether’s questions with a lazy wave and this is no more strange than adepti in teapots.

Your companion shakes his head and wraps his gloves around yours, closing the conch into your fist.

“The ocean between worlds, huh?” Childe looks up then, something… something dark and inaccessible in his eyes again. You purse your lips and lower your eyes. “You know, I hear whales. The ones in the ocean here… They call out and follow each other,” he finishes, the pause in his sentence enough to be nearly visceral. He turns to you, eyes wicked and teeth bared in a wide smile. “Maybe they’re looking for a good kill?”

You snort. It became quite easy for you to dismiss these little moments of vulnerability, to close your eyes and forget. Ironic, considering you spent your waking days desperately trying to remember. “Maybe. Maybe there are some up there, looking for their next adventure. They’re… never alone, you know,” you murmur and ignore the curious look Childe gave you, “they have constellations all around them. To guide them home.”

“Sure,” he scoffs and stands. All of a sudden, that vulnerability was stamped underfoot like a stray pest. Did you say something wrong? Regardless, it’s unavoidable that some of the sand flies in your face from Childe’s movement, but you take the opportunity to swat him in fake annoyance nonetheless. Score one for you, zero for Fatui. Childe chuckles and offers his hand, which you take gratefully and will not comment on his tight grip while he dusted your back off, nope. You will not.

It wasn’t a long walk back to Liyue and the two of you fell into an easy banter. Well, easy for Childe since he ruthlessly pinpointed your pet peeves for exploitation, but you enjoy him nonetheless. This felt natural, dancing between the lines of friend and enemy.

Along the docks, the two of you run into Zhongli examining tapestries from a stand.

“Ah! Zhongli! What a surprise finding you here!... ” No it isn’t.

“... Just browsing, I see. What are you planning on buying?...” You mean what you are going to buy, Childe.

“... Is there anything we can help with?” Help the walking encyclopedia of Liyue? The entire time your face twists more in your incredulity at the implication of Zhongli requiring anything other than Mora. Still, you nod along, if only to hear Zhongli speak at length about the history associated. You are, after all, a curator of all things practical in knowledge.

The fact that his warm voice sends shivers to your core was just a bonus, honest.

Zhongli’s eyes shimmer as he looks at the two of you, crinkling faintly along the edges. “Indeed, I would greatly appreciate assistance in deciding which pattern to buy.” He turns back to the stand with a hand resting on his chin, and you flank Zhongli’s right while Childe goes to his left. “This design over here depicts Glaze Lilies in bloom, a wondrous sight most rare these days in Liyue. A moment preserved for all to appreciate. Over here, we see the clouds descending upon the mountains of Liyue…”

So you told yourself you were going to listen to Zhongli, but you suddenly can’t help staring at a long, crimson token. The strings appear to be woven in complicated patterns, but when you look closer, you realize that the patterns are dragon scales that meet on a wild head with Cor Lapis eyes. How curious. Once upon a time, you were sure a design like this would have adorned the walls of kings of yore, yet now it only serves as a cheap souvenir.

The single thought of pretty propels you grab it.

Of course, this does not go unnoticed by Zhongli and Childe. You felt the silence rather than heard it; in that moment, you look to their inquisitive gazes, eyes wide and face as flushed as the dragon. “I… I. I saw this and. It’s… Pretty. Pretty nice,” you lamely explain, suddenly at a loss for words when the full force of their combined gaze is set upon you. Stars and gods above, that was pathetic. Tourist trap sprung.

Childe’s smile grows indulgent and Zhongli’s tight-lipped expression never moves while his shoulders barely trembled. They… thought this was cute. Great. You purse your lips and turn away, mumbling obscenities under your breath. Still, a traitorous grin comes as you felt Childe’s hand settle on your shoulder as he not-so-subtly breaches your personal space after side-stepping the funeral consultant.

“A pretty token for a pretty girl, no?” he coos and leans forward to inspect the trinket in your hand.

“Childe possesses an expensive eye,” Zhongli agrees and his voice floods your other ear as the older man follows Childe’s lead. His rich timbre petrifies you, and you could only stand there with a white-knuckle grip while you listen to their appraisal. “In Liyue, an invisible red string is said to entwine the fate of all those caught in its distinct pattern, destined to meet regardless of time or circumstance. Never will it break, safeguarded by the divine itself. Even the tangled pandemonium it may cause would lead only to a grander, more intricate pattern at journey’s end. Perhaps this will lead you to your destination?”

“Zhongli, as much as I appreciate Liyue’s customs and stories, isn’t this a little too on the nose? Saccharine to the very end indeed,” Child snickers. Still, when he notices your crestfallen expression at his bickering, he gazes at Zhongli again before you hear your name called softly. “Hey. Let’s make a deal, yes?”

“What? No, no, no I am not making a deal with a Fauti Harbinger,” you immediately hiss and whip around. Damn the fallen Geo Archon, you will not be beholden to the whims to a Harbinger in the land that once belonged to the God of Contracts. In a desperate bid for allies, you beg your other friend, who was suddenly and conveniently interested in another token on the stand. Damn him too, you decide.

“Come on, pretty bird,” Childe says and pokes your side.

“I think I liked it better when you called me pretty girl.”

“Ah, no no, pretty bird because you always cry when the cats come over to play.”

“I do not, fuck you very much. And did you just call yourself a cat -?”

“I promise, this is a deal you’ll like. Do you trust me?”

“No.”

“Fair enough. I’ll buy it anyway.” Childe waves his hand to the vendor to barter. Before long, he returns triumphant with the long thread in hand and gently lays it in your own in the same manner he did with the Starconch shell. “Y’ready to hear my deal?”

“No.”

“In return for me generously buying you this,” he continues, ignoring your very pointed is this how he treats you, Zhongli and the amused no, simply you in response, “I want your end of the deal to be carrying this with you, in that little journal you think we don’t see you scribbling in.”

Your face immediately flushes with indignation. “Like a bookmark? Why?”

“Because,” Childe says while he carefully wraps the end closest to the dragon’s head around the shell. By the time he’s finished, the dragon looks to be gripping the glimmering item and protective amber eyes gaze upwards to the heavens, ignorant to Zhongli’s intense scrutiny. “Because, sweet thing, I think Zhongli’s right. The Hero of Mondstadt, a Fatui Harbinger, and a funeral consultant all walk into a bar – “

“That is not how I remember our first meeting, Childe.”

“ – and forgive our dear comrade’s ignorance of Snezhnayan jokes. Point being, I don’t want you to forget this,” he says, winking when you blink owlishly. It’s hard to remember that you’re supposed to hate this man and hate his sentimentality.

“This… this is your attempt to piss me off, isn’t it? Make me never forget I’m friends with a Harbinger? Put a mark on my back that says ‘I.O.U.’?”

“Aw, now why would I do that? You wound me!” Childe pretends to be hurt before elbowing you with all the mischief you would see Aether give you before charging a Hilichurl camp. “Besides, you said it yourself, friend. I just want to be remembered. That’s the only debt you owe.”

As much as you wanted to hit Childe then, you both turn when you hear Zhongli’s rumbling chuckle. You lean forward against Zhongli opting to hit him instead and relish in his little grunt to your effort, clearly only putting on a show for humor’s sake. “Wow. Is this a gift from you too, Zhongli?”

“Hey! I paid for it!”

“Thank you,” you say fondly. “Except… Except I have nothing in return. Zhongli told me about how he gave you chopsticks, and you two gave me this – never mind how you even pay for Zhongli’s entire life. How can I…” You look down then, somber of the fact you are in the land of contracts.

(All must be fair in love and war.)

“How can I make this fair?” you settle, gazing up suddenly. Childe only laughs, characteristic of his lackadaisical attitude and oh stars you know this is going to bite you in the ass. You feel Zhongli’s hand rest on your hip and when you turn to him, he’s -

Oh gods he’s so close -

“Your company is enough, dear bird. Now come. I am in need of eyes tempered by travels outside of Liyue. It is refreshing to see these items anew.” He pivots on his heel and walks further along the docks without turning behind to check whether you and Childe would follow. You both do, of course, but not without half-hearted grumbles at his presumptuousness.

It became easier then, the bickering between you and Childe with Zhongli only stepping in when he cared enough to distract your verbal blows for opinions on his next purchase. That, of course, only led to the two of you turning on the refined gentlemen, determined to crack that stony exterior as punishment for his ridiculous disregard for money. How immature, how… childish. Damn it.

You hear your name being called. “Hey, hey, are you listening? Hey-“

---

“Heyyy!” Paimon says, floating in front of your face while Aether snaps his fingers. Blinking awake, you snap to attention. Aether had gathered the rest of your supplies, and the three of you were ready to continue on your travels by foot to gather ingredients on approach to Dragonspine. “Hey! Paimon asked if you were ready to go?”

“Oh! Oh, yeah, yeah I am. Sorry, was just trying to remember our, ah… next commissions,” you mumble before putting the journal away. Paimon gazes at you sympathetically then. With a sharp turn on your heel, you began walking towards the mountain with a renewed bounce in your step and lame determination to ignore Paimon’s pity. “C’mon! Better to get there sooner rather than later, yeah?”

Aether jogs to catch up and flicks his eyes between you and Paimon in some grand conspiracy. “Think if Paimon eats the last of our goulash again, we can use her as a hot blanket?” You both laugh, whipping around then to stare at the aforementioned fairy who only gulps.

“Paimon, ahh, Paimon is going to go scout ahead! Can never be too careful!” she chirps before floating ahead at a speed you only ever saw her gain when she spies a fresh meal. You were thankful, though. It’s no secret how you hurt these past few months since Childe’s departure to Schnezaya after his release of Osial. In many ways, that disaster became old news with the citizens of Liyue eager to remember the event only as of the fond ascension of the Liyue Qixing’s power rather than the near-death blow from the Vortex God. The peaceful Rite of Descension held after solidified the transition into the age of men. Though rumors were abound of Childe’s – no, Tartaglia’s – involvement, they were quickly muddled with the Fatui emphasizing new business opportunities in an attempt to let it all be “water under the bridge.”

Rather, they attempted to save face while Ningguang squeezed them under her golden thumb as retribution. Ultimately though, nobody truly witnessed Childe himself summoning the god of old.

That doesn’t make his actions any better after knowing. If anything, you find it almost easier to forgive – bitter in your private admission – since he acted only within his nature, no more and no less. Understanding was swift after you and Aether were somehow roped into helping him wrangle Teucer, a spitting image of the stubborn Childe you knew and not bloodthirsty Tartaglia, before his return to Schnezaya. You couldn’t find it in yourself to truly hate him after the Fatui’s blatant trust in you two to keep his secret, even as you jot down a new quest afterward: ‘Strangle Tartaglia, the Eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui, at your next meeting.’

Before his departure from the Northland Bank, you even had the courtesy to warn him under your breath when you hugged him farewell. He naturally returned the sentiment and squeezed harder in emphasis.

Yep. Reasonable. Single-minded friends to the end.

No, you hate the Fatui more. Whether Tartaglia ever forgives his conniving comrades – and the Tsarista - is something for the stars to witness. You know how deeply he respected the Tsarista for her frigid yet imperial attitude, something borne from the experience of a true warrior who courted death head on, whose pale complexion was forever marred by the scarlet slaughter. The only time you saw light in his eyes was when he waxed poetry of her carnage, much to Paimon’s disgust.

His contempt for deceit often warred with his pragmatic attitude of “the ends justify the means.” Despite his misgivings, he acted within his orders perfectly. He even expressed his distaste for unnecessary power demonstrations, a complete contrast to your false assumption and Signora’s patronizations over his desire for chaos. The reward? Being used and tossed aside. With Tartaglia designated as a pawn in the Cryo Archon’s grand game instead of granted the bare decency for communication between commander and general, you couldn’t help but wonder where his opinions of her now lie. Even as he cursed Zhongli and Signora for leading him on, you heard humor lacing his words. You were sure that Tartaglia always suspected Zhongli to be more than a consultant, but the Tsaritsa’s blatant disregard for the Harbinger’s intelligence was offensive, even to you.

In the end, what Tartaglia really thinks of her now doesn’t matter. It never did.

No, you were – are, you desperately try to remind yourself – more disappointed with Zhongli, with Rex Lapis, the God of Contracts, the God of War, with fucking Morax. When you first came to Liyue with the intention of hunting down the Geo Archon, both you and Aether marveled at the Geo powers bestowed upon you from the first statue encountered out of Mondstadt. Surely, Aether pondered then, this meant that the Geo Archon approved of your Holy Grail quest. Instead, many months later and after some rather painful revelations, you both discovered that Zhongli – gentle, kind, and dear Zhongli – was none other than the stone-cold god instead. Aether tried convincing you for weeks that this was Zhongli’s nature, that as a god who walked Liyue for over six thousand years, he likely saw these as tactical maneuvers similar to the Archon War.

Aether, bless him, understood Zhongli’s reasoning deeply; after all, you two were likely thousands of years old yourselves despite stopping the count many centuries ago. You logically understand the desire for peace, but you can’t help the emotional betrayal.

Thankfully, Aether keeps most of his comments to himself. He knows you well enough to know why you were really upset, why your heart twists at the memories you spent with the former Archon, but he is wise enough to know when to pick his battles.

You still remember your bitter conversations with Zhongli afterwards, your rampage in seeking him out at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor for answers. Except, what answers could he give you that he didn’t already offer at the Golden House? Still, that didn’t stop you as you barreled forward, didn’t stop you from pounding against his stone-cold chest and meeting his irritatingly serene gaze as you demanded he sat down for what pitiful interrogation you could dish out on the God of War. Since that confrontation, you spent much of your time in Liyue attempting to harass – or reconcile? – with Zhongli.

As you approach the mountain’s base, you feel Aether’s hand on your shoulder and his soft voice, “She didn’t mean it you know. She’s worried about you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I’ll bet you, I don’t think she’s forgiven him either. Paimon knows you’re trying, you’ve spent more time with Zhongli to repair things, but as much as she loves the fact that you’ve gotten him to pay for all our meals now, I'm pretty sure she’s still mad at him.”

You laugh then, and Aether perks up at your shift. He wraps one arm around your shoulders and pulls you close, matching his steps with yours as you snicker along. “Stars help the Lord of Geo, because he hasn’t face the fury of a hungry Paimon.”

---

“Promise me.”

“I understand.”

“No, Morax, you don’t. I need you to promise me.” You scowl hard, hands slamming on the desk as you stare deep into his amber eyes. He only passively stares back, but you knew him better than that. Those months of connection, of deeper understanding – even if you didn’t truly understand then it was because of two immortals who subconsciously recognized eternity in the other – gave you some advantages, such as recognizing that flicker of guilt across his eyes before disappearing. You don’t relent in your assault as you both ignore Aether and Paimon in the background tensely watching. “You owe us. That explanation at the Golden House and Rite of Parting was crap.”

"But Mr. Zhongli told us everything - "

"He gave us half the story, Paimon," you growl. "Isn't that right? How deep in with the Fatui were you? What did you tolerate?"

The air grows thick as memories of each Fatui camp obliterated run through your mind. You barely managed to stomach reading even half of the detailed accounts on the experiments conducted within Liyue. His eyes flick to the bags around your eyes, then towards the journal hanging by your side.

Zhongli’s fingers rap his table as his nostrils flare. Good. You got him on edge. Still, before you can say more, he relents and you try not to be disappointed. He knows when he is faced with an immovable mountain. With no more protest, Zhongli rummages for spare paper and ink before pulling both out and writes up a quick contract with a few lines of promises for total honesty. The pen narrowly avoids tearing the paper with the pressure. As he hands the paper to you, he never meets your eyes as he says, “It is important to me that you know I was authentic with you after Osial’s defeat. I hope this reassures and appeases your curiosity. If a physical symbol is required for what I have always given you, starlight, then so be it.”

Each word of his grows softer, yet only digs deeper daggers into your heart. Starlight. His own nickname for you to mirror Tartaglia’s pretty bird, yet you didn’t know why or how it came to be. Regardless, you take the contract and inspect his signature. Grabbing the pen from his hand – and with barely a flinch at his fingers lingering near yours – you sign your own name. “… Not always, clearly. It’s done,” you murmur and bring the contact with you to the fire behind him. All other parties in the room watch as you shuffle closer to the fire, ears straining for your next words that are nearly drowned in the incessant crackling. “You’re a lot like him, you know. Childe.”

Zhongli stiffens. “You have said so before.”

“You both see the world around you as means to an end, some limit to be pushed or some assessment to be passed. Is he… is he as bloodthirsty as you were, too? Back then?” He draws a sharp breath, though you don’t look behind you to see what expression he wears.

“… Yes. He is. I had expressed such sentiments to him before his departure. Childe only laughed, and… He told me that he knew there was a reason he liked me.” It takes all your willpower to not grip the contract any harder than you did, so you were proud of yourself, damn it. Still, you nod before tossing the contract into the fire.

Zhongli swiftly rises at that, and as you turn around, you watch his fierce eyes on you debate either questioning you or hurling a stone pillar towards you on pure instinct. Some habits die hard, it seems.

You only laugh, shoulders relaxing for the first time since Osial rose from the sea. “Zhongli.” He freezes, as if it were possible to become even tenser than he already is, and mouth parts lightly as you whisper his mortal name so sweetly. “All I needed to know was your willingness. I don’t care about contracts, I never even asked for it. Let’s not do that. It’s been six thousand years already, hasn’t it?”

He swallows thickly. “Yes. It has been.” Zhongli sits down and sweeps an arm out, gesturing for you three to take seats in front of his desk. Although you were the one to initiate the conversation, Aether and Paimon ask most of the questions while you keep your eyes glued to the desk in front of you. That didn’t stop you from feeling Zhongli’s eyes on you though, ever curious as to what was behind your own neutral complexion.

He taught you too well to hide your emotions; the thought alone is enough to crack the god of stone’s heart.

Unfortunately for the three of you, Zhongli can offer no explanation for their activities within Liyue. Although he was aware of some of their sickening actions, he was forced to turn a blind eye as he focused on the grander picture. Mortals needed to learn to handle affairs amongst themselves while he doubled his efforts in safeguarding what was personally important to him as he prepared to step down.

As you three were leaving his office – and after Paimon manages to convince Zhongli to pay for all her meals as recompense – you linger when you hear the former Archon call your name. When you turn back to see him, his own eyes aren’t meeting yours, but are instead taking the ring from around his thumb to place on the desk. What is the old idiot doing?

“I am not worthy of this gift,” he begins, closing his eyes as he shifts the ring forward. Copper floods your mouth from how tightly you bite your tongue then to keep from practically weeping at witnessing Zhongli attempt to give back the ring you gifted so many months ago. “You gave this to Childe and I as equal payment for our own gifts, yet you did this as promise to remain as true friends. I will not apologize for my actions, as I did what I believe to be right for Liyue as its Geo Archon.” His eyes open, resolute and vibrant. True to his word, there is no remorse for his manipulations. “As a mortal, however… I do not believe I have adequately upheld my end of the bargain. ”

Underneath his gloves, his knuckles go white from how tightly he clenches his fists in his lap.

“Zhongli…” You step forward to grab the ring before gently taking one of his hands. After unfurling his fist, you gingerly place the ring back in his palm. The ring you gave Zhongli is of a golden dragon wrapped around, biting its own tail. A symbol of eternity. For Tartaglia – Childe, you correct yourself, he was Childe then – you gave him a ring of silver and sea glass so brilliant, it acted as a mirror that could rival the ocean’s reflections. “Do you remember how Childe whined that my gift was impractical, compared to the utensils and bookmark?”

“Yes,” Zhongli says, smiling at the memory. “He complained that it would hinder battle as he gripped his bow.”

“Right. I said that it was so he would never forget how annoying I can be when I wanted to,” you giggle. “I gave this to you after you told me of how… of how all your friends forever shined like gold in your memories. I wanted to be like that too.” Before he could respond to your crack, you continue, purposefully cutting his thoughts off. “I know you promised to write Childe. He told me he made peace with you after bribery with some osmanthus wine. Something about learning how to be mortal, getting a chance to fight you, all that. He also told me he was ordered to keep you close as an asset, even if he didn’t understand why at the beginning. The Tsaritsa wants to keep tabs on your ‘progress’ and movements, I’m sure. For all of Tartaglia’s Fatuiness, he’s not very secretive about that sort of stuff. Guess he was glad to be done with those lies.”

Zhongli doesn’t respond and watches your face as you speak, so you took this as a cue to continue your speech as you withdrew your hands. You meet his gaze then. “I want you to let him know that I won’t try to make contact with him. I made my peace with him while Teucer was here, I harbor no bad blood. We were both pawns.” You ignore how Zhongli’s throat bobbed. “But I can’t keep contact with him. Not now, at least, not with where our mission is heading.”

After a long moment, the Geo Archon closes his eyes, before reopening to the imperial gaze the statues of him around the country forever etched. You both knew this was little more than a game, though. Nothing could make you bend the knee to any god before, why would you now? “Will you still visit me in Liyue?” he asks. For all of his age, you marvel at how lost he sounds.

A god who never learned how to be vulnerable, to be human.

“Yes, I promise, because you’re my friend.”

---

After that, the weeks crawled by, but you kept your promise. Ningguang saw fit to reward you, Aether, and Paimon with a reserved room in the finest inn at Feiyun Slope for whenever you passed through, as befitting of the Heroes of Monstadt and Liyue. Though the three of you collapsed on the floor in the apartment and wept honest-to-gods tears of joy of not having to open your wallet for once, you saw this as a cosmological suggestion for you to begin your journey of forgiving Zhongli.

Which, no, that was a lie actually. You knew deep down you already forgave Zhongli, that wasn’t the issue.

Long after Paimon retreated to her own bed tucked amongst an ungodly amount of pillows and blankets set in one of the larger windows, Aether sat you down in another windowsill to ask you honestly about your feelings on Zhongli and Childe. Thank the stars you knew Aether for centuries because he opened his arms instinctually as you sniffled and crawled over, burying your head into his chest as tears flowed openly for the first time since you both lost Lumine. After apologies and please let me wash your scarf I’m sorry I made it gross and no don’t you dare I ruin your shirts all the time, you began to confess how, for the first time, you felt dually matched tit-for-tat in these two men.

Tartaglia reminds you of the joys of adventures, of youth, of the difference between surviving and being alive while Zhongli gives you the stability that a mountain eternal would. He beckoned you through the history of Liyue with a warm smile, shared in your long conversations with Aether on the nature of life well into the night against the dawn, and stood steadfast as warden against your own anxieties of eternity despite not knowing then of his own timeless status.

Could it be helped that you fell as quickly as a star, set aflame with hopes of something more?

Yet, once again, luck proved to not be on your side. You remember in the days leading up to the battle with Osial at discovering how Zhongli and Childe would share long conversations or made time for meals regardless of busy schedules. Though you confessed to Aether that you recognize it was because both wanted to keep tabs on the other without revealing their ulterior motives, it didn’t fail to ignite anxiety, especially now that you knew Zhongli maintained correspondence with Childe, despite the former’s insistence that it was strictly friendly and contractual.

Stars, could you have felt any more like a selfish kid then? To want both men left you feeling equal parts angry with yourself and with them. How dare you allow yourself to get close to them? You should have left the socializing to Aether, fuck.

Combined with the fact that both men betrayed everyone involved and were shy of brawling each other in the Golden House, you couldn't help but feel that most - if not all - of the memories made were false. Bloodthirsty, warmongering, and ruthless in pursuit of their goals. Did they really care for any but themselves?

Aether held you tightly that night, singing songs in your shared native tongue that sounded of bells and twinkling glass to lull you into a fitful sleep. In the weeks after, you grew to become friendly with Zhongli once again, and if Aether didn’t know you any better, he would have said you moved on.

Except he did know you better.

Despite his own attempts at explanation, he knew you had to see for yourself what both he and Paimon witnessed during those long months spent in Liyue with Childe and Zhongli. He knew how frustrated the Harbinger and ex-Archon would grow, restless in their seats if you took too long escorting Paimon around the city to collect snacks. Aether got along like fire to a wooden house with the other two, all wit and not-so-professional humor. However, knowing that he fulfilled the diplomatic role to help others, you took the opportunity to try to irritate Childe where you could – at first because of his Fatui status, until it evolved into you and the Harbinger competing to elicit a laugh from present company without throwing hands.

While Aether certainly didn’t like to pry where it wasn’t his business – that was Kaeya’s modus operandi, thank you – he sometimes wondered if Childe and Zhongli viewed you and Aether as the guide to that murky area between mortal and divine. Their robust characters more than once reinforced his idea that Visions reflected personalities rather than the nation’s sovereign ruler. By extension, when he thought about how water crystalizes geo, he concluded that the speed Childe and Zhongli summoned shields and attempted to break them in a conversational dance whenever they were together was due to some deeper, instinctual urge.

That, or they were just nearly the same brand of deceitful, halfwitted idiots.

Perhaps that was why they felt comfortable constructing such a close friendship. To both of them, this merely played into some larger façade, all while convinced that the other was entirely fooled by the thick shield. Aether laughed to himself. The morons got so tangled in mental games, they unknowingly built a true and dependable relationship, if the blatant stress between them in the Golden House was anything to by.

Aether was not born yesterday. He didn’t survive these many millennium by not carefully observing the inhabitants of each world they visited. He is friendly, yes, but not ignorant. And how could he fault you for trying to find some sliver of happiness here, even if it was temporary? Stars above know his own heart ached each night.

That was why he was so sure you felt as comfortable around them as you did with Paimon and himself. The traveling troupe acted as a pacifying force for whatever the hell was going on between Childe and Zhongli being head deep in manipulations. In the little ragtag gang of the three travelers, none of you held tolerance for any bullshit and welcomed only peace, in whatever form a Fatui Harbinger and Geo Archon could manage.

He personally never doubted the authenticity of any sentiments, any stories expressed in conversations between all of you, even if you were now swimming with mistrust. The loneliness of not being able to trust anybody... He doesn't know if he can take much more abandonment after Lumine's entrapment. Everyone holds their own secrets, what they share always has a sliver of truth. Lies are built on that. By extension, Aether had no doubts that Childe and Zhongli were equal parts stubborn, righteous, and fucked up in their own uniquely Teyvaten ways.

At this point though, weren’t you all? Aether glumly drew his gaze upwards to the peak of the mountain. All of this for a five-thousand mora commission? Whoopee.

When the three of you grew closer to Dragonspine, he fell behind to gather tinder for a cooking fire to shake himself out of these deeper thoughts. As Aether returned, he couldn’t help his open fascination as Paimon played dodgeball with the small stones you were hurling at her when she kept commenting on your stove-building skills instead of helping.

In a hidden blessing, some things will never change. While rummaging through his subspace storage, the smile on his face quickly falls when he realizes –

“Guys. We have a problem.”

notes:

1) According to the game, starconches let you hear the ocean, no matter where you are. In a lot of religious texts (Buddhist, Egyptian, Mesopotamian, etc), the oceans are referenced as the bridge between heaven and earth, i.e. "bridge between worlds"

2) In one of childe's voicelines, he specifically references the Traveler wielding a lot of unusual powers without a vision

3) One of the MC's voicelines also references how time in Teyvat seems to be quicker with the days being so short

love yall <3

#zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli x childe #childe #childe x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #zhongli fanfiction #childe fanfic #zhongli fanfic #aether #genshin zhongli #genshin aether #genshin childe

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likeshipsonthesea · 4 years

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I dare you to post their get together from chowder's perspective because you're an amazing and magical writer and I'd love to read it at any level of editing

well u did dare me :P inspired heavily by this post

the thing is, chowder really, really loves his new friends.

nursey is so cool and funny and nice and he knows all this poetry that sounds so cool and he always saves chowder a piece of pie when he isn’t there and bitty’s on a baking binge, and he helps chowder write Important Emails and doesn’t even complain when chowder asks him about the exclamation point in the third paragraph for the fourth time

and dex is really smart and has a dry sense of humor and he cares so much about people even when he pretends he doesn’t, he does his laundry when chowder does and lets chowder match all the socks while he folds both of their clothes with like retail level precision and he’s great to sit and work on coding with and never gets upset when chowder interrupts him to ask him why a certain part isn’t working right and he helps bitty make him soup and pastries when he gets sick right before finals week their frog fall semester

and they’re both swawesome at hockey, they do their very best to keep the dirty puck away from his net, and they are such swawesome people and literally the only thing he doesn’t like about his new friends is how adamant they are about not liking each other

he tries, at first, to correct their complaining when they come to him. “the guy refuses to listen to anyone who isn’t himself,” nursey groans, muffled, because his face is pressed against chowder’s pillow, and chowder very kindly explains that dex is a bit stubborn sometimes but he always listens to chowder, even when he has a differing opinion, and when dex wraps himself in chowder’s duvet like a burrito and grumbles out, “he acts like he’s chill all the fucking time just to fuck with me,” chowder says that nursey acts like he’s chill even when dex isn’t there and also, why do you think he’s acting?? i think he’s just that chill

but as time goes on he realizes that neither of them believe him because they haven’t seen it for themselves and, look, he could try and orchestrate some plot where they secretly see one another being good people and miraculously change their opinion about each other and they all become a happy trio of friendos with no animosity at all, but chowder is also an ncaa athlete, a stem major, and someone who likes to party a fair amount. he’s got no time for that kind of bullshit.

and so they go through spring term and things aren’t greeattt all the time and sometimes nursey and dex get into screaming matches on the quad and chowder just has to pretend like he doesn’t know them, but most of the time it’s good, it’s fine, and he really does love his friends.

then they lose the frozen four, something happens that neither of them will tell him about, and the fuckers go and gang up on him

it seems, after all the times chowder told them about how they’re both funny and good at hockey and passionate about school and all the other things they have in common, they decide instead to bond over their mutual love of chirping their very best friend in the whole wide world.

to be honest, he’s just glad they’re getting along.

and they still show up at his room all hours of the night and day to burrow into his bed and complain about each other, but at least now chowder lives in the haus and he can eat pie as he pretends to listen to them.

and maybe he starts noticing how some of the complaints aren’t necessarily the kind of thing you’d expect, like “how are his eyes so fucking green, it’s impossible to win an argument when he’s staring at you” or “have you seen how many freckles he has after summer break?? he’s like one giant freckle, it’s unfairly distracting” and despite not really paying attention, he starts to notice when the tone of complaining changes from i hate this guy to i hate how pretty this guy is

he never brings it up. once again, he does not have time to try and get his two best friends together on top of all his other responsibilities, but he notes it down anyway. for being-a-good-friend-purposes. like when ransom sets nursey up with a girl on the volleyball team, chowder spends the whole night watching monty python movies with dex on the couch, and kindly ignores the relief in dex’s shoulders when nursey shows up to breakfast the next day and relays that the date was a bust. and when they’re doing workouts at the gym, chowder very deftly navigates nursey away from the weights when dex is using them to spare him from turning into a mumbling mess at the sight of dex’s arms

and maybe he notices when they start becoming more self aware and the complaining-about-appearance becomes complaining-about-good-things, like nursey saying, in the middle of a rant, “you know he’s fixed betsy like fifteen times in the past two weeks? how the fuck can you fix an oven fifteen different ways? that’s insane” or when dex pauses his recount of nursey’s ridiculous chill behavior to mention, “he’s been editing ransom’s thesis because he knows how much ransom stresses over grammar and he’s like, really good at it”

and it’s probably at this point that chowder breaks the bro code and tells farmer all about his dumb friends and their dumb mutual infatuation, because lbr here the boy cannot handle all this pining on his own. “they’re in love with each other but they think it’s hate”

“i know, i know” farmer soothes, running her fingers through his hair

“why are boys so dumb” chowder laments

farmer, who is currently wearing her best bra and pantie set under her clothes, sighs deeply. “i don’t know,” she says, equally forlorn.

then, well, then the dib flip happens and nursey and dex are literally shoved together and either one or both of them -- chowder has an inkling that it’s dex, but he’s not sure -- seems to freak out and neither of them comes to his room to complain for the rest of the term.

and then chowder has the greatest summer of his life, his former captain wins the stanley cup, and bitty and jack get to kiss on center ice, and chowder gets to attend a training camp with the falcs and jack and he’s on the ice with twenty stanley cup champions and chowder doesn’t come down from this high until he shows up at the haus and finds out that something has gone horribly wrong.

despite the frequent texts, calls, and facetimes, dex and nursey didn’t seem to have as great summers as they’d made it appear. they don’t really tell him directly -- that’s another thing they have in common, never talking about their emotions plainly -- but from what chowder can glean from what they do tell him, is that dex’s family seemed to take jack and bitty’s coming out as evidence towards dex’s queerness and they were dealing with it... less than great, and nursey’s parents had a fight and had since been jettisoning around the world for “work” in an attempt to avoid one another and, as a result, nursey

the living together thing goes.. not swawesome. chowder is obviously disappointed that he no longer has his two best friends just a bathroom away, but after dex moves into the basement, both nursey and dex start coming back to his room for complain sessions again and it’s -- chowder wants to say it’s a good sign.

it starts out mostly complaint complaining, the familiar stuff from their frog year, but slowly but surely as the year goes on the old “his fucking hair” and “he literally helped a little old lady carry her groceries to her car” come back into play and chowder lets go of some stress he hadn’t realized he’d been holding

“they’re going to make me go gray before i’ve even hit 25,” chowder says, another night when he’s complaining to farmer, and farmer says, “you’d look sexy as a silver fox,” and, well. the rest of the night is spent very much not complaining

senior year, they’ve got an ncaa championship under their belt and dex is the captain. he stops coming to chowder’s dorm, probably out of some sense of loyalty to his team that chowder finds both ridiculous and sweet. nursey seems to have no qualms complaining about his captain, on the other hand, but soon even the thin veneer of complaining he’d covered all his pining with has washed away.

“he’s so good with the baby frogs,” and “never tell this to another living soul, but his cherry pie is even better than bitty’s,” and, one memorable night, “do you think i’m in love with dex?”

it’s after sunset, the world dark outside chowder’s window but he’s not exactly sure of the time, and nursey’s lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling and he looks -- chill. he doesn’t always look chill anymore -- looking back, chowder can admit that maybe the ever-present chill from their frog year had been more a show than anything else -- so this chill means something important, chowder thinks.

chowder thinks, smiling a little, that nursey is finally ready.

“of fucking course i think you’re in love with dex,” chowder bursts out with the frustration that’s a by-product of having patience for three and a half fucking years. “you’ve come into my room at all hours of the day since we were freshmen to complain about how pretty his freckles are, you’ve been in love with the dude for years, and i’ve had to sit here and deal with all of it.”

nursey’s staring at him with a slightly open mouthed, wide-eyed expression.

chowder gathers his poise and then says, very calmly, “yes.”

nursey nods, once or twice slowly and then picking up speed. “wow. okay.”

“i’ve been holding that in for a while.”

“i could tell.”

“hmm.”

a stupid, hopeful, optimistic part of chowder thought that would be the end of it. nursey realized he’s in love with dex, he’d tell dex, and they’d be all stupid and gross and finally chowder would get them back for years of fines.

but nothing seems to change. nursey still comes in and ostensibly complains while pining and dex still doesn’t, instead apparently baking away his frustration (and it’s not like chowder’s going to complain about that) and really, chowder should’ve known these two idiots would need more than a few sentences to get over their combined stupidity

it comes to a head a week before graduation. never let it be said that chowder’s friends are anything less than Dramatic Fuckers

he’s helping dex pack away everything he won’t need in the next few days so when he and nursey leave for new york after graduation there won’t be much to do. he finds a random green beanie in a drawer with dex’s workout clothes and says, “hey, where should i put this?” and dex gets the most ridiculous sappy look on his face.

he hasn’t technically been chowder’s captain since the season ended with a back to back ncaa championship a month ago, and it’s not like dex has any authority over him after how many times he bugged chowder about nursey’s nose, so it’s without hesitation and with purely dex’s best interests at heart that chowder says, “you know you’re in love with him, right?”

dex surprises him then by saying, “yeah.”

a vein in chowder’s neck nearly pops. “then why the fuck have i been listening to nursey pine about your eyelashes for months.”

dex’s eyes widen and, when he gets over the surprise elation whatever, he stumbles over some stupid explanation that captains shouldn’t date their players and it wasn’t the right time and all this other absolute crap, and so chowder does the most meddling he’s ever allowed himself to do and tells dex that he will finish the packing as long as he goes and finds nursey right this fucking second

when nursey and dex tell the story to him and farmer later -- dex blushing and nursey embellishing with his arm curled around dex’s shoulders, pulling him close -- chowder will laugh and tease them and play his part as their very best friend in the whole wide world.

but that night, when he’s gross and sweaty from packing up dex’s entire fucking room and he can’t even sleep in his own goddamned bed because his friends are being exceptionally loud just one bathroom away, he shows up on farmer’s doorstep and says, with all the sincerity in the world, “i hate my friends”

#nurseydex #dexnursey #check please #The Frogs #chowder #chris chow #dex #william poindexter #derek nurse #nursey #my writing #sort of fic #ficlet #ramble fic #i tried to balance it between being a nurseydex fic #and being from c's perspective #idk i'm not usually good at that lol #but i am adamant that they all love each other so much okay #bffs for life!!!

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super-hero-girls-netflix · 4 years

Note

I'm back :D

Headcanons on sleepover (Boys and Girls)?

Girls First!

#1: Zee NEEDS to be Host if it's the whole group

Zee hosts as often as she can because she likes sleeping in her own bed and not having Babs' dad knocking on the door every 5 minutes.

It's also hard to coerce convince the girls into magical makeovers if she has to be alert about using her magic.

Also...she is positive that Commissioner Gordon suspects her of murder. (He doesn't, he just has the naturally narrow eyed thoughtful look)

Zee, in other words, prefers to host their sleepovers.

#2: Babs is a Wriggler, Kara is a Thrasher, Jess is a Talker

Diana, Zee and Karen are relatively quiet sleepers. Like sure Diana snores a bit and Karen might drool and Zee might shift in her sleep but they are NOTHING compared to Babs, Kara and Jess.

They are nightmares to sleep with. Babs wriggles in her sleep and babbles too. Especially if she's stressed. She'll be talking utter nonsense. Literally like 'waffles have feelings too' or 'butterfly fart machine'. No one shares a bed with Babs because she is known for stealing the covers and wrapping herself in them. Like a Babs Burrito. And if you try to take some back she will shove you off the bed. Still very much asleep.

Kara, she is a hazard to people everywhere. At least if you don't know how to control sleepy Kara. The girls know the control word 'go back to bed' but that only helps them when Kara tries to fly away. If she's kicking and or punching it's doom. Typically her erratic attacks are sparse and weak, so just like a pro-wrestler but badly aimed, but still...no one sleeps within 5 feet of Kara Danvers.

And lastly Jess. Jess is not much of a physical threat while asleep. She stays in the same position and doesn't even drool or snore or anything. But in the middle of the night you might hear a yelp, or a drawn out very loud groan. That's Jess, she groans a lot in her sleep, regularly. And if she's extremely stressed she'll even mantain conversation. Very poorly. Kara tried once. It went like this.

Jess: The moon, is just a ball of cheese.

Kara: Oh? Can your eat it?

Jess: Like a rock

Kara: What do you mean?

Jess: I'm nice, you're mean.

So yeah...they can share a bed with this chic and they have. That's why most if them sleep with headphones tucked into their ears.

#3 Movie Night

Karen hates horror movies. They creep her out and Kara is obsessed with them.

In fact while Karen and Kara argue about which genre to watch, romance or horror, the rest of the girls watch them fight.

Which is more amusing then it sounds.

#4 Diana can't cook

Diana is a girl of many talents but she can not cook. Not a bit. Not even instant mac and cheese.

Babs has tried to show her how to make a burrito- failed.

Jess a salad- failed.

Karen, some stir fry- failed.

Kara, warning up some pizza- failed.

She just can't cook. Moving on.

#5 Babs is generous with everything BUT her stuffed animals.

These are things she has said:

"Rest your feet somewhere else, Kara"

"Burrito Bat Butch hasn't cuddled with anyone but me, ever. Hands off!"

"Listen, if you wanted a pillow you can just ask- you don't have to treat General George Jennings like that!"

"Give me the bear, Karen. Give me the bear."

"EEY, NO TOUCHIE!"

#6 They can't do a proper Binge Watch with each other.

Babs drinks a lot of soda and munches on a lot of snacks so she has to constantly use the bathroom. Insisting they can keep watching but of course they pause anyway.

Zee cannot step away from her phone. It's always vibrating with emails and messages and she is too invested in her rep to put it down. She is the type of gal who likes texting while watching a show. This drives the other girls up a wall because then Zee insists they catch her up.

Kara cannot, for the life of her, sit still. Even though they are curled up on the couch, one of the girls leaning into Kara's side, or having their head on Kara's lap. Or anything, really. Kara breaks the comfort because she cannot sit still. She shifts too often, changes the legs she tucked under her, stretches her back. It is annoying because then the girls around her need to shift too.

Jess gets restless quickly. She predicts the ending or loses interest when the plot becomes to predictable. So then she starts, trying to be subtle, looking through her schedule and doing school work. Its more infuriating because when the girls ask pointed questions she almost always gets it right.

Diana is of course knew to the world of man and stills doesn't get everything that is happening. Sometimes she misunderstands the plot completely and they have to rewatch the episode, explaining everything that time. This makes the watching chunky and somewhat less enjoyable. Usually Zee is the one to do the explaining. No one blames Diana of course, but still.

And Karen? She just wants to see if her ship lives. She is a fangirl through and through and has to scream into a pillow every time they have to press pause. Which is three to five time throughout a single episode.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Now for the boys,

✨✨✨✨

#1 Food Competition

Barry eats a lot. Barry is never sure how much is enough. Barry can eat a supermarket out of business if he was particularly hungry. Hal knows this. Still his pride won't accept it so every time Hal challenges Barry to eating some disgusting amount of sauce or drink.

Sometimes Hal wins.

Barry has a sensitive stomach.

But usually not.

#2 NO HOMO

Steve doesn't really care how close any if the dudes sleep to him.

Barry doesn't either. In fact its likely he'll fall asleep on someone else's sleeping bag with his feet propped on one of his teammates stomach.

Garth will probably end up trying to cuddle up to Hal or Barry or Steve or any of the boys.

Hal will most definitely fight him on that. What can you say? He's the Type A male. But he really won't bat an eye if Garth does it when Hal is already asleep.

Oliver will sing love songs to his bro's, flirting hard as hell...up untill Hal, Carter, or Steve smack him. Where he pouts and let's Garth and Barry soothe him.

Carter doesn't like being touched in general so like hell he's going to let any of the boys near him. Or hold a conversation with him. He will just sit in the corner of the room, quietly observing. (He is most definitely trapped in the home where they are hosting the sleepover).

#3 Make Him Laugh

Another challenge.

Whoever makes Carter smile or *le gasp* laugh is deemed royalty.

Usually it's Barry. Who didn't even try. He just tripped over something.

Barry wins a lot.

#4 They Order In

Hal refuses to cook on principle. Rather be fed.

Oliver doesn't like getting butter on him since it'll 'destroy' his complexion.

Garth can't cook.

Carter refuses to feed anyone. He'll cook for himself and no one else.

Barry always offers but he is a forgetful cook and they feel bad throwing out whatever abomination he makes so they force it down. Of course, they learned to order in before Barry offers.

Steve can cook but he is very precise about the recipe, double checking and stuff so being fed takes forever if they let him start.

They arm wrestle to decide who chooses what they eat so yea...Carter always picks. Steve usually pays. Barry too. Everyone else is broke as hell.

#6 They butt heads.

All the dam time.

Hal is stubborn and Oliver is prideful.

Carter refuses to cater to anyone.

Garth is immovable if he wants to be.

Steve is trying to compromise but no one listens to the voice of reason over their own shouts.

Barry eats ice cream. They'll tire themselves out eventually.

#7 They Reprimand Hal

These are things they have definitely said at least once during a sleepover.

"Goddammit Hal! She's my science partner! How am I supposed to look her in the eye now?"

"Do you value your life? Yes? Then please refrain from speaking."

"Shut! Up!"

"Who are you calling stupid, stupid!"

"I'll tell Carol."

"The hell, man? Were you born with the unexplicable urge to be an asshole?"

"Go to bed, perv!"

Ah well, imma close it off here. Very lovely prompt. Headcannons are always fun. 👍

#dc super hero girls #dc superhero girls 2019 #dc superhero girls netflix #dc superheroes #dc super hero high #barry allen #jessica cruz #diana prince #barbara gordon #kara danvers #karen beecher #carter hall #hal jordan #hal might be a player #garth #dc headcanon

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weeklyfangirl · 4 years

Text

Frat Boy Pt. 22

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19 , part 20, part 21

Hope everyone is keeping themselves mentally/physically well... here’s the next update in your adventure. Please safely read from home ;)

The sun moved slowly up my window, illuminating the dancing dust in the air. Even though I knew dust didn’t have feelings, it all still looked very peaceful, suspended there in space.

I wanted to be suspended, floating, with no obligations or pressures.

Instead, I watched time slip by, slowly, as the shadows stretched along my floor and I lay still, wrapped in a giant Winnie-the-Pooh sheets burrito.

I called in sick the past three days to work and to all my classes, my lack of attendance probably dropping me a letter grade in a few classes. Instead of checking on my academic scholarship, I begged Renny to drop off Dr. Rhinecuff’s papers for me. She did, lamenting about how his office smelled like roast beef and how she probably needed a nose job from it shrivelling up from the stench. Tired, I sent her three hearts, ignoring all of her calls and voicemails.

In a random bout of restless energy, I looked up the University of Oxford in England. No one would know me there. And maybe that wasn’t a bad thing when you didn’t even know yourself. I stayed on their site for an hour, avoiding my take-home assignments, and speculating which classes I could take in the spring semester. My eyes grew tired though, and even if I were accepted as a transfer student, it wasn’t like I could ever afford it without scholarships.

I closed the computer.

It’d been cloudy, rainy. The random storm that’d come in from Mexico lasted longer than the usual morning fog that’d roll in and out by the time it was 9 AM. This storm lingered, heavy, full clouds looking to burst and unleash a steady rain for three to four hours before the clouds rested, storing up all they could until the next downpour.

My parents didn’t question me when I came in, used to my random visits. But when I went straight to my room without saying hello, rain-plastered hair covering puffy eyes, my mom basically collapsed at the sight.

She followed me to the bed, trying to see my face, but I buried it in the pillow, ignoring the way the purple fringe tickled my nose.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?”

I just groaned. Her voice was too gentle, too well-intending for the dark thoughts sitting in my mind. She’d be heartbroken if she heard them.

She huffed, not out of annoyance, but distress. “What’s bothering you?? Is it Renny? Did you breakup with Harry?” All those reasons were too simple. She ran her hands lightly along my legs, but I cringed away from her touch. It was something I rarely did. She paused. “You can tell me anything...”

I shook my head against the pillow, my last attempt to tell her to leave without speaking. She waited a moment longer.

“Okay,” she said. And that was it.

Father didn’t ask questions, not even when I was here for the third consecutive day. Mom had probably come to her own conclusions, and shared them with him.

“Mom said you aren’t feeling too well,” he said over cereal one morning, confirming my suspicions. It was the first time he’d broken our three-day spree of comfortable silence.

“What else did she tell you?”

He shrugged his shoulders, his usual buoyant self replaced with a quiet voice. He looked at me, and all I saw was pity. If I were him, I’d probably look at me the same way. I hadn’t showered in a while. “Well don’t let anything get you down. You’re too smart for that.”

He’d tried. He’d put in an effort. I just nodded, scooping up another spoonful of cereal. He followed suit.

And that was that.

A week passed like this.

But overnight, the clouds had blown away, and the sun came back full-force this morning just in time for the weekend, renewing my guilt. That traitor.

I’d cried all of Monday and Tuesday, but when the last tear was shed in the middle of a New Girl episode, I was empty. My tears didn’t leave anything to replace them with.

On Wednesday, a phone alarm reminded me I had a therapy appointment. I hit snooze multiple times. It was only when I got up to pee, and I hated what I saw in the mirror that I threw on an oversized sweater to go over my pajamas and headed out the door.

“Is it good?” I asked.

Her hands reviewed my wants list.

“That’s just a coffee stain on the corner..just...ignore that bit,” I added.

She surveyed it briefly, not really focusing on it. “Were you honest?”

I nodded.

“Then there isn’t good or bad. It’s just your truth.”

“But I still feel… I don’t know. I don’t think I know what that is. I don’t feel like I’m… progressing. Doing anything towards that,” I said.

She looked at me with a level gaze. “Then that’s your truth. And that’s okay for right now.”

I shot her a glance.

“I see a common struggle with people your age. They feel this….” -She adjusted, quirking her head- “immense pressure to be perfect, to figure it all out, to achieve success so early.”

“Everyone’s doing it,” I began. “They’re getting internships, keeping up their grades, involved in ten clubs, doing community service…” I could’ve droned on, but didn’t.

“You have an internship, your grades are good, you’ve joined a sorority, and up until recently you’ve been involved in tutoring. Those are extracurriculars.”

I couldn’t argue with her.

“Is it too much?” she asked.

Too much. It was everything I’d been feeling until I’d felt nothing. But hearing her list off what was waiting for me just beyond her doors made me feel the weight of it all over again.

“I’ve just been overwhelmed.”

“Who have you been thinking about?”

She noticed I started picking my hangnail.

She started gently, knowingly. “Has it been Harry?”

“Ow,” I cursed. A bit of blood prickled up where the hangnail used to be.

“He seems to be a major stressor in your life. Would you agree?” The clock ticked behind her, filling the silence. Her hands rested in her lap, while mine swiped away the bit of blood. I could never remember my therapist’s name, but somehow it wasn’t important.

“Yeah, but … I mean …. there’s a lot of stressors.”

“Like his friends?”

His friends, in the abbreviated story I’d told her, stood in place for the gang. I’d used terms like … intimidating, mean, basically painting them as bullies who didn’t like us together. I wasn’t expecting to get much therapy from a lie. “Out of curiosity, if I were to tell you something… would you be obligated to report it to the police?”

“Not necessarily.” Her legs crossed, creased brows zeroing in with a laser focus. “Has something happened to you, Y/N?”

I swallowed hard, the truth lodged in my throat. But I had gotten too used to the weight of the secret. “I was just curious…” My mind raced to change the subject, and I blurted about Zayn’s art show.

“Do you think this panic attack was induced by this heightened sense of scrutiny from Harry’s friends?”

“Probably.”

“You said there were others. What are your main stressors?’

I settled in, more comfortable with this question. “There’s financial stressors, for one. And it’s exasperated here.”

“You’ve been dealing with financial difficulties for a while, now. Have you been feeling this anxious the entire time, or has it been recent?”

My foot tapped impatiently. We both knew the answer.

“Your panic attack was a first,” she explained, gently. “Some new factor in your life pushed you there.”

I picked at the hangnail, wincing. It was gone. My skin was raw.

“Maybe it all links back to Harry.” She waited a moment to see if I’d speak. When I didn’t, she leant back, and pulled out a new sheet of paper, scribbling something down. “I want you to write a pros and cons list about your relationship with him, for next time. When your feelings are overwhelming, it helps to get everything on paper. In a list. Puts things in perspective.”

I drove home, her words had pushed themselves into my empty shell and now they clinked around, jostling up my insides like a pinball machine and giving me a headache.

Just because I hadn’t left the house all week didn’t mean I didn’t feel guilty for ditching work. God, I did. It killed me. I knew I was lucky to get that internship. Harry had mentioned how people killed just to get on the waitlist, and I didn’t doubt it. An OC internship with, if not the top, at least the most publicized private practice? I mean, I was typing in appointments next to a Southern Stanford grad if that speaks to the competition here.

And here I was, retreating back to my house, too drained to face the world.

As for Harry, after what I’d said to him, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t want to talk to me ever again.

I’d been so cruel.

I was weak.

I felt guilty for feeling this way at all.

And then I would watch the dust again.

It was a cycle.

About three blocks from my house on my way back from the therapist session, a familiar car passed me. It happened suddenly, unexpectedly, like most things do. We made eye contact before he passed, and my foot instantly lifted off the gas when my eyes connected with my brain. I whipped my head around but the matte black maserati sped up, disappearing from sight.

What was Harry doing this far from campus?

My heart beat erratically as I pulled into the driveway, and it was only seconds before I made it into the house. Father held up a hand in Grandpa’s old room. Phone call. Trudging silently to my own, I wrapped myself in a blanket burrito.

I’d been avoiding my phone, but I caved this time, checking J’s social media to see if he’d posted anything about being in the area to prove I WASN’T crazy and DIDN’T just hallucinate. Nothing. I tossed my phone on the other side of the room before I spiralled.

It didn’t matter. I was in my room. Alone. Safe. I focused on the dust.

Two little knocks disrupted my exciting mind game - which dust particle would fall further than the other.

“You’re turning ripe,” Father noted. His briefcase was still in his hand and he was coming startlingly close to my depression burrito.

“What are you doing-!?” I protested. But it was too late. He ripped the sheets off, exposing me in the t-shirt I’d been in since Monday. “Your mood won’t change if you don’t make an effort.

Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’re coming to the water with me.” He hesitated at the door. “Shower first.”

In the car, a sense of comfort washed over me. He’d been right. Clean wet hair smelled nice and felt good slicked around my head. Even if Mom would complain I’d “catch cold,” it felt good to feel something. Dad’s speakers switched between classic rock and reggaeton as I sipped on the chocolate shake we picked up from the Shake Shack. It was a short drive away to the harbor, and once parked, a shorter walk to the public docks.

Our feet dangled above the water. It was too cold to go swimming this time of year, but my body buzzed with yearning despite the goosebumps on my skin. I wanted to feel encompassed by salty water. I wanted to be submerged, where everything was muted, a barrier between me and the world. Between my wet hair and the icy shake, I could pretend my body was as cool as the water below me. I could just…. dissolve.

“So what’s going on?” he opened up the conversation. “You having a hard time at school?”

“I don’t like the sorority.”

His brows raised, not expecting me to be so honest so soon. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, don’t you hate that shit?”

I looked at him, almost shocked he’d agreed with me.

The boats squeaked as they rocked with the rolling tides coming in from the ocean. I watched as a duffy boat wandered to the end of the jetty - where the harbor opened to the ocean. I took another big gulp of my shake, feeling the cold run down, freezing my esophagus.

“I liked frats, but sororities are different,” he mumbled, spooning his shake into his mouth. He’d gotten his usual Neapolitan, and it’d somehow stayed solid on the drive over. We hadn’t been to the Shake Shack in years, but I guess seeing his daughter waste away beneath her comforter was enough to break the dry spell.

“Why? Because its girls?” My lips were breaking into a smile without my consent. He didn’t make sense.

“They’re more catty.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“Dad! That’s verging on sexist.”

“Eh, I don’t know. I’m just saying things. Did you tell Mom you want to quit?”

I shook my head.

“Yeah…” he looked out at the boats, a quiet understanding passing between us. “She was really excited for you to join.”

“It’s not all bad…”

“Well if it’s not making you happy, don’t do it. Your mom doesn’t want you doing anything you don’t want to do. I was in a frat to shoot the shit with friends and it was something fun to do instead of study. If it’s not something fun for you, drop it.”

I could hear the words he was telling me, but it was like they were rolling off my shoulders, not really penetrating. He made it sound so easy, but it seemed like it was a million times harder than that. Everything was entangled, just as Harry had said. Not to mention Renny. If I quit, I felt like I’d lose her forever, too. I knew I could use a better friend, but that couldn’t erase the years of memories we had together. Losing Renny would feel like losing a part of myself. Not that I knew who that was anymore.

“Dad?” I asked. The question that'd weighed on my mind ever since I got home rested on the tip of my tongue.

“Yeah?”

“This is going to sound weird, but did you see Harry today?”

“Yeah. He stopped by,” he said, casually, spooning another mouthful.

I practically choked. “What? Why?! Weren’t you going to tell me?”

“Y/N, I’m working. I have a thousand things bouncing around in my head all the time.”

“And?!!?”

Harry couldn’t reach out to me beforehand? He drove by but- what? Didn’t even want to see me?

He sighed, not understanding the urgency. “He just stopped by, said hi. That’s all.”

My brows stitched. “Why would he say hi to you? What’d he say, exactly?”

“Oh, come on, I don’t know. I can’t remember-”

“Dad!”

“All right, all right. Hi, how are you…” -his brain tried to remember- “he asked if you were doing okay. Then he left. He was nearby for a family brunch or something.”

“He asked about me?”

“Yeah. I mean, he didn’t go on and on, he just asked a question. He was in a rush.”

The shake froze me from the inside, and the breeze froze me from the out. But while I shriveled into myself, my guilt grew. “Dad?”

He hummed.

“Why are people so fake?”

He looked out at the harbor, peaceful for a winter’s morning. Only one small fishing boat headed towards the harbor’s edge, the sole fisherman at the helm facing the wind with the grace of a husband dealing with a temperamental spouse.

Father looked to our shoes as a random swell came, the water rising perilously close to our soles. Then, with all the untapped wisdom I seldom remembered parents had, “People are fake because they don’t know who they are,” he said.

He got a call from the restaurant and drove us home.

In bed the next day, I ignored the pros/cons assignment, watching New Girl and making collages of Oxford in a word document until my eyes were burning from blue light exposure. I knew I was pushing it staying this long away from school, away from my problems. I was pushing myself, seeing how far my apathy could go. I woke up Thursday night at 2 AM from the rain pouring against my shutter and anger pricking my insides.

Harry was the reason I was in this position. As well as Viv, who fucked Harry. And Kiki, who gave me a DG Pretty Please, that just so happened to involve Harry.

I wanted him, but I wanted him to fuck off. Nothing was changing. Nothing was getting better.

It was all Harry, Harry, Harry, and no matter what, I ended up feeling insane.

At one point, I was going to have to choose myself.

I rolled over, blindly reaching for a pen, and scribbled in the dark.

If my therapist wanted a list, she’d get one helluva list.

-----------

“I’m glad you’re going, honey.” Mom released me from the lung-crushing hug.

I’d created enough Oxford collages and daydreamed about a new life until I couldn’t think of any other imaginary scenarios (or postpone collegiate life any longer).

The Friday sun had set. The game had already started. I thought about the crowd, all the people I’d see…

“Can I just stay the weekend?”

“Oh.” Her arms dropped from my sides. “Didn’t you promise your friends that you’d go?”

Renny. I’d promised Renny. Singular friend. My hand was in a fist, thumb rubbing anxiously over my fingers. I didn’t listen to her voicemails, there were seven of them. But she’d texted me fifty times in the past twenty minutes, declaring that she’d Venmo me gas money if I’d come to the game.

I’d been in my hole long enough.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Well, you COULD stay-”

I broke away, shaking my head. If I let her coddle me another minute, I think I’d crumble all over again.

“I love you,” she reminded me. “You’re my precious angel.”

From the living room, the muffled applause from the game show Father had fallen asleep to faded further as I left.

Momma’s robe-bundled frame waved on the driveway, her sad smile burning in my mind long after she disappeared from view.

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

Come on, come on, come ON.

The path to the stadium took forever. No shame, I was full-on running, braless, fresh pit-stains on display as I booked it to the gate.

It was completely dark now, and the usual fleet of cop cars seemed to have all but disappeared the week I’d been gone. Only one passed me by, and the rest of the student body probably all congregated around the stadium.

When I saw the art studio, I slowed. It was completely dark, except for one entry light. The paintings would still be displayed... My pounding heart told me to keep running, and I hesitated, listening to it for a moment before walking to the door. I tugged on its metal handles, parts of me seizing up as it opened, giving way to my touch.

I crept into the space, feeling like an intruder as I walked through the exhibit.

For some reason, I expected it to look differently, to see it blurred together as I’d seen it before in a panic.

I was still hanging amidst the vines, but this time the paintings looked less threatening. Maybe it was the fact that I was alone, maybe it was because I’d already felt the worst of it.

Each piece was sold.

I looked over my shoulder a couple times before letting out a small shout. A tester.

It echoed in the space.

I did it again, louder, at my full about-to-be-murdered capacity.

I must’ve looked absolutely mental, but as I heard my shout reverberate around me, at least I felt something.

Five charcoal sketches in particular ran horizontally together.

Lust / Longing / Love / Lost / Loss

Had he seen all of this in me? He’d certainly seen other bits I hadn’t shown him.

My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out. Renny. Without thought, I started her stream of voicemails.

Y/N where the FUCK are you!? Zayn’s concerned and I’m concerned and you’re not in the room-

Next.

Are you really sick? Or is this just some BS excuse. Or is this real and Harry gave you tonsilitis or something. I want to hear your voice. Ilyyyyy.

Next.

It’s meeeeee. Niall’s busy and you’re sick and I don’t know what to dooooo. Housewives isn’t as fun without-

Next.

BABE WHY AREN’T YOU ANSWERING ME CALLS DO YOU HATE ME, AND YES I MEANT TO SAY ME INSTEAD OF MY I HOPE YOU’RE LAUGHING-

Next.

DUDE. You will not believe what just happened- Harry just stopped by.

My thumb paused, letting it stay.

I was avoiding his texts because I think he’s a dick. Well, he IS a dick, even if Niall said he was going through a lot. It’s still not an excuse. But Harry LEGIT found me on campus, like not even when I was with Niall at the house, but at our APARTMENT...I-hold on. Ew, pastrami professor just passed me. What are the odds? OKAY BUT SERIOUSLY, I almost punched him when I opened the door because remember last time he basically told me off. But… I don’t know. It was different this time. He seemed… so concerned. Frazzled. I don’t even know the word to describe it. Ugh, if you were here you would be able to TELL ME what the word is. I miss you. Come back.

The voicemail rolled into the next.

I’m just pretending to talk on the phone right now because the boy I hooked up with last year is staring me THE FUCK down right now-

A creak in the pipes startled me, and the voicemail was all but forgotten.

My heart beat fast.

It was very, very quiet.

With one noise in the dark, the art pieces turned menacing. An oil painting in the corner of the room morphed into the Styles’ portrait. It wasn’t here. It couldn’t be here. I squinted, blinking through the dark. The portrait I thought I’d seen was just a painting of two silhouetted men facing each other. My heart still beat like I’d just ran a marathon though. I wasn’t about to be a part of the next horror movie “art comes alive.”

I booked it out faster than I came, answering Renny’s call on the way.

---------

“Thank fucking finally,” Renny huffed, leaning over Lynn to draw me in a hug.

“You didn’t miss much,” Lynn said, looking past me towards the game. I sat on Renny’s other side so she was in the middle, but when I looked at the scoreboard - Home, zero. Guest, two - I knew it was a done deal. Some people had already left, but half the stadium was still here, either hoping for a miraculous recovery or refusing to put their tails between their legs for pride’s sake. I noticed a group of parents in Chapman gear huddled together, waving their flags. No Mary or Lionel Styles in sight.

“How’s he been?” I asked. It’s like my head already knew where to turn, because as soon as I looked to the field, I found him. On the bench, elbows on his knees, head bent over.

“How’ve YOU been?” Renny asked. “I was seriously about to drive over to your house and check on you.”

Someone beat you to it. The thought was sour. For as much as Renny could claim her undying love for me, I was struggling to see the actions to support it. Everyone was disappointing.

“He’s been playing like shit,” Lynn answered.

“Brought back some...” His sentence died. Of all people, Zayn stood there, stopped, popcorn in hand. “Hey, Y/N.”

Felix stood behind Zayn, giving me a small wave. Zayn was clearly waiting for me to make the first move, but I turned away to the field. I didn’t know what to say.

From my peripheral, I saw them sit down by Lynn.

As soon as he did, it hit me like a flashfood. I knew what I was feeling. Anger. Discomfort. Shame. That he could expose me so easily, that he’d looked through my clothes in a way I never permitted. That he could sit down so comfortably without apologizing, as if nothing had happened.

Renny leaned in. “Are you okay?”

“No.”

She flinched at the abrupt answer. “Do you want to leave?”

I stopped myself from saying yes. I didn’t want to have to climb over Zayn to get out of here. That would be more than uncomfortable.

“No, I’ll tell you later.”

I didn’t speak the rest of the game, pretending not to hear him cheer or laugh or make a snide remark to Felix every other second. Like the annoying click of a fan when you’re trying to fall asleep, Zayn’s every move made anger shake my bones. Lynn gave me sympathy looks every once in a while. It wasn’t like me to be this quiet, and even with our friendship being as new as it was, she knew that much.

The crowd didn’t roar this time. They were silent as the clock hit zero, staring blatantly at its twin beneath Home. The Guest team’s few Minnesota supporters jumped like little beans on the other side of the field, but their cries were faint.

We’d lost.

Everyone stood, and Renny linked her arm with mine. A familiar habit. “We’re going to Viv’s for some post-game depression drinks now.”

But I stopped her.

“I think I want to go back to the room,” I winced.

“Come on, PLEASE? It’ll be fun, you were barely here for the game.”

“I don’t know, depression and Viv in the same sentence… You really know how to sell a party.”

“Aren’t you coming, Y/N?” Lynn made moves to follow the rest of the crowd that was funneling out of the stands.

I shook my head at the same time Renny nodded hers.

She huffed. “Why not? It’s going to be chill. We lost. It’s not going to be like the usual ragers.” She popped her hip, completely deadpanned. “You haven’t seen another college-aged person in a week.”

“Yeah and there’s a reason for that.”

Concern washed over her, voice lowering. “Tell me.”

As if on cue, Zayn and Felix stopped their descent down the bleachers and looked up at the girls, waiting for them to join. It was all I could do to not scream at them.

“Later,” I said. “You’re leaving now.”

“I don’t have to leave right now, it’s not starting yet...” Renny began, but Lynn gave her a look that said yes, they were leaving now.

“She wants us to help set-up,” Lynn explained.

“But it’s a small thing, right?” I teased Renny.

My bestie rolled her eyes, lips pinching. “Are you SURE?”

I nodded, sitting down on the cool metal bleacher again. Renny took a step towards me, a sad look on her face, but I held up my hand.

“I’m fine,” I said, when I felt anything but. “I just want to wait until the crowd leaves.” I picked up the popcorn bag she’d left behind and threw a handful in my mouth with a cheesy, hopefully convincing grin.

She grimaced, briefly looking back to Lynn who was anxiously waiting. “Fine. But we’re still talking about this later. I friggin miss you.”

She left with the others, funneling out towards a party she’d probably stay at until the early morning.

I didn’t want to go back to the room. I didn’t want to go anywhere.

The lights were so bright on soccer fields. Bugs flew in and around, racing each other faster than the dust in my room. It wasn’t until the janitors walked past me that I realized I’d been sitting there for too long. I reached in the popcorn bag, but my hand came up empty. They’d gone overboard on the salty butter, but somehow, I’d still managed to eat all of it.

Even with everyone off the field though, I didn’t feel alone. An older Hispanic woman taking out the trash saw me walking down and opened up the bag.

“Thank you,” I said, smiling.

She just smiled in return, nodding her head as she continued down the aisle.

Leaving the field’s gates, I was prepping for another mini run-for-my-life-and-back-to-the-dorm anxiety episode, when I heard someone shuffling. There were faint groaning noises, and I sped up my pace.

For a flash second, I thought someone was winning the “sleep in the locker room” bet, but when I tossed my head-back mid-run, I stopped so quickly, I almost tripped.

“Harry?”

There, in the dark, barely concealed by the shadows, he stumbled out. His abdomen looked… glossy? But then the light reflected crimson.

I ran to him as he fell, his white jersey stained with blood. “Oh my God, oh my God…” I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. “What happened?! Are you okay!?”

He pushed me back. “M’fine.” But his voice was strained. He stumbled again, and I reached out before he fell.

I thought the blood from his shirt had fallen from a bloody nose, but his hand moved to my arm in a vice-like grip, revealing a gash in his jersey, I saw more liquid pool out from his gut and I almost gagged.

“You are BEYOND fine. You aren’t fucking fine!!”

“We have to leave. Have to… get out of here.” He grimaced. His face, his beautifully chiselled face was swollen on one side, his lip cut from impact.

“Okay. OKAY. I need to call the cops. The cops. I’m going to call them.” Shaky hands took out the cellphone, but he threw it down. “HARRY!”

“Take me to the physical therapy room?”

I looked at his chest. “You’re bleeding. A LOT.” My free arm reached for the tossed phone, but he tugged me back.

“No. They’ll write a report. I can’t have a-” he winced, sucking in a breath, and I reached for the phone again. “DON’T. Fucking hell. Don’t call anyone.”

My eyes racked his frame again, and I immediately applied pressure to his ab area, right where the gash was. He sucked in a breath, unleashing a string of curses I couldn’t hear right now. “Oh my God,” I breathed.

“Answer me,” he growled.

My mind scrambled for his question… he wanted me to take him to the physical therapy room. “YES! Yes. I have the- fuck, yes, I know where the keys are.” I looked at him again. What the FUCK.

“Stop freaking out,” he grunted, but he weakened the next second, his eyes fluttering before coming back to me.

“Okay, hold on. Hold onto me. Keep applying pressure.”

The physical therapy room wasn’t too far, bits of blood that’d fallen to his shoes marking our path.

“Why aren’t all the cops here?”

“They’re on rotation. The parties... they’llbestationedthere-JESUS.” We paused, letting him catch his breath. But it was shallow. Too shallow.

“Can you wait here for a second?” I asked.

He nodded, resting against a lamp post.

I hurried to the lockbox located behind the planter, punching in the code and unlocking it at lightning’s speed.

I didn’t know if there were cameras. I didn’t know if this was illegal.

I didn’t care.

We made it through the doors, and he was just about to sit on the table when-

“WAIT!” I ran to grab several rags and laid it beneath him before heaving him up. The soft cry he made when sitting down was like a knife through my own chest.

I grabbed scissors, cutting his t-shirt. I didn’t have time to linger, I didn’t have time to notice the way his tattoos were completely concealed by a red current. There were two wounds. One, deeper, the other, more shallow. Both in the lower left abdomen, just above a prominent v-line.

I wiped around the area, pausing above the gashes. “This is going to sting,” I warned.

There wasn’t fear in his eyes. He watched me, and I, him, as I pressed it against the open skin. He trembled, wincing, mouth opening in silent exclamation.

“You’re doing good,” I whispered.

“So are you,” he gritted out.

I swallowed, reaching for the butterfly bandages. But as soon as I did, more blood rushed out. I held a rag to him. “Save your breath. You need it.”

The thin white bandages seemed too little in the wake of his wound, and just as one bandage was placed, he cringed away, regretting his decision to move almost immediately.

“Fucking hurts,” he groaned.

“Stop moving! I need to close the wound up. You’re bleeding too much.”

“Y/N, just take me home. Call Lionel,” he panted.

“I’m calling 911 if you don’t let me at least attempt to close this wound because if we leave now you’ll bleed out.”

“You’ve done enough, please-”

“STOP. TALKING. I’ll call him after.” He saw a flame behind my eyes, and quieted, too weak to protest much more anyway. I came closer, and this time he didn’t flinch. The butterfly bandages at least minimally shrunk the open gouges.

With no other choice, I left him there alone, running across campus to my car and driving back in less than five minutes. It was illegal to drive through student walkways, let alone drive 60 mph, but there wasn’t a choice. I kept picturing Harry passing out, his limp God-like body, turned mortal, weak, bleeding out all over the training room floor. My foot hit the gas pedal harder. I could’ve been a damn marathon winner/race car driver. Let the cops add “speeding” to the file they already had on me.

Once we were both in the car, I looked over at him every two seconds. An entire roll of tight gauze around his abdomen kept the wound from bleeding out, but it was still turning pink. It was the second time blood would have been on my car.

Of all the revenge daydreams I’d had, I would’ve settled for Harry seeing me make out with Andre on the dancefloor over THIS. Would he die in my car? Would I be responsible?? I looked at the cheesy Angel pin my mom had given me for my car mirror. Never Fly Faster Than Your Guardian Angel Can Fly. Where was my angel now??

“Where are we going?” He asked, between fading in and out.

“To your house.”

His hand grabbed mine on the wheel and I practically swerved into the center divider from shock.

“HARRY!”

“We need to go to my house,” he said suddenly, panicked, as if I’d told him the opposite.

I placed our interlocked hands above the console. A safe distance away from the wheel in case he lurched again.

“Don’t worry, we’re going there. We’re going to your house. You’re just in shock, it’s okay,” I cooed, but it was desperate. And it was definitely not okay.

“They’ll ask… less..less questions...”

His grip was unbearably tight for three long seconds before it relaxed.

“Stay with me. Stay awake,” I urged. Harry’s lids kept drooping and I was desperate, blasting the Air Conditioning to an uncomfortable temperature.

Lionel picked up on the second ring.

“It’s Y/N. I think Harry’s been stabbed-”

“What?!”

“- I told him we should call the cops, but he was adamant we call you instead.”

“Seal the wound with whatever you can-”

“I did that. Not well, we didn’t have wound sealant- Okay, I’m rambling. I don’t know what to do, but he needs to see a doctor. Immediately.”

There was a long pause.

“Hello?” my voice wavered.

“Bring him to the practice.” The voice over the other line was that of a doctor, matter-of-fact, somber.

Hoag Hospital passed me, a nagging thought telling me that’s where we should be going - where there was paperwork, evidence, some legitimate accountability. But I wasn’t his father. I wasn’t responsible.

“On my way. I’m getting off the freeway now.”

The call ended, and as I looked at Harry, fading dangerously out of consciousness, my hands trembled more from fear than cold. Out of all the reactions, I hadn’t expected this one. The voice on the other line hadn’t seemed surprised at all.

come talk to me about the chappie or just about how you’re doing! now’s the time to stay connected :)

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itstheendofthegoddamnworld · 5 years

Text

Angel Boyfriend

The pitter-patter of rainfall wasn’t the first thing that had woken you up from the faint sounds resonating around you.

You had been acutely aware of the sounds of nature coming back through into your ears: the sound of birds twittering and the nearby stream flowing just outside your home.

They were all sounds you had grown to love since you had moved.

The sheets shuffled when you rolled to lay on your side, looking out beyond the ajar curtains that were wrinkled and shone some light through; the drizzle was still letting the sun to come through, and it was still too early to be awake.

Your fingers dug themselves into the sheets and further into the comforter that was heavy to help you lull into a sleep, patting and smoothing over the large space that was usually taken by occupied space.

It was the second thing you had noticed when your eyes had gotten accustomed to the bright light seeping through; your lover was nowhere to be seen.

The door to your bedroom was slightly half-open, meaning that he must’ve left either to go to the kitchen or go run some errands, but you were certain there would’ve been a note left for you, and there was none left in sight.

The tiny mewl came from the bottom of your bed, a white fluffy tail sprang up first before two small pointed ears followed, allowing a beaming grin to flash on your face.

Ceres was your three-year-old Persian that you had adopted from a cat shelter, and before you had met your now-boyfriend, she had been your world. There was always the comfort that was from having a pet that you had always confided in when you weren’t dating or in a relationship, and finally, you could experience love and affection from another.

There were distinct footsteps coming back from you assumed was from the kitchen, heard over the raindrops falling from your roof and when Ceres was scratching at her post; audible sounds that you knew exactly who it was.

The door wasn’t even fully open before your eyes were landing on the soft features of your boyfriend: his warm copper skin and dark chocolate curls that were messy from sleeping were always something that made your heart flutter. Your boyfriend was always truly beautiful to look upon.

“Hi,” you observed from your comfort of the blanket wrapped around your head, head poking out to make you resemble a burrito, always a sight that made Evangelos smile.

“Hey there,” His voice was tender and delicate, always there to lull you into tranquillity, his soft olive-green eyes landing on you as he went to sit next to you on your bed, two cups in his hands, “made you some coffee.”

“Decaf again?” You murmured with a wink, sitting up properly to take the warmed coffee into your hands, laying close to him to feel his warmth. “You never give me caffeine.”

“Only just because you’ve woken up, my love,” Evangelos spoke frankly, taking a sip of his own green tea as he sat taking in the morning. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

“You didn’t,” you yawned, drinking down a large gulp of your drink, made exactly how you liked it and always perfectly, leaving you to sign in relief, “I just didn’t know where you went.”

Evangelos chuckled at that, beckoning Ceres over and once she jumped up onto the bed, he stroked his bare-knuckle along the top of her furry head towards the back of it. “I had to feed this one, or else I don’t think either one of us wanted to hear her complain.”

You hummed in amusement, stroking Ceres too, watching her stretch to lie between the two of you, purring in appreciation, eyes shut in peace. “Come back to bed, please?”

Evangelos’ look he gave you resembled one full of mirth, “Oh, did you miss me?” There was no arrogance to his tone, nor how he spoke to sound cocky: he was always kind and sweet and there was a reason why from his conception and creation.

You gave him the look that always made him give in to you, the classic puppy dog face with a big pout always made his chest swell with love. Gingerly taking your mug to put on the stand beside, he cradled you close to his bare chest, kissing at your forehead tenderly.

“Anything for my love, my stars.”

It wasn’t long before you were both spooning and cuddling each other, revelling in the feeling of content and peace, the silence had risen to block the sounds of everything going on outside. Ceres was curled around the middle of your intertwined legs, curled in a small ball.

You had your arms wrapped around his neck, stroking his hairline and short curls, kissing his beautiful copper skin in thought.

Evangelos was always quick to notice when you were deep in thought or thinking. “What is it, my stars?”

You always felt giddy at the nicknames and sweet pet names he gave you: my love, my stars, my universe. For someone as empyreal as him, it was always something so lovely to hear.

“Just... I never want these moments to end. To go wake up and go about my day, waiting to come back to my bed to be with you.” Your voice was gentle but gravelly from sleep slinking back into your mind, always being in his arms made you feel so safe, so protected.

“You are so good and brave, and I’m proud of you doing what you must do. You are always someone I wish I could be. And I love you for it, and I love you to the heavens and back.”

You smiled, your heart swelling, and never had he said he was inspired by you for getting up every day; it was something that kept you from not losing your mind.

Fingers hot like melted honey, they traced over his caramel skin, past and beyond the back of his neck and below, travelling past his broad shoulders and over his freckled back, the skin raised and bruised, the skin broken and damaged, with obvious tufts of where wings once spread.

Evangelos shuddered greatly in reaction, not in one of disgust or wanting to not be touched: the skin there had never healed greatly throughout the millennia and it was the only part of his blemish-free skin and body that was scarred.

“I could never be more proud of you, you are everything that I want to be.” You whispered, your eyelids growing heavier as you laid your head down against his shoulder, kissing the flesh there and using him as a pillow.

To Evangelos, you were an angel, and he couldn’ t help but always notice the invisible flutters of pink feathers float around you, the gentle reminders that you were always one of His creations and followers.

“Let’s sleep Evan, I don’t want to wake up so soon.” Your voice was quieting as you fell limper before your quiet snores fell through the room. Evangelos watched with a grateful and broad smile, eyes softened at the sight, before tucking away a strand of your hair as he too, went to relax with you in his arms.

“Good morning, see you when my sun has arisen.”

#angel boyfriend #monster oc #monster boyfriend #monster #monster writing #monster story #angel male x reader #male monster #male monster x reader #gn reader x male monster #angel male oc #angel story #comfort #fluff #monster fluff #monster lover #exophilia #exophilia angel #short fic

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dpimagines · 5 years

Text

Softer; Wade Wilson feat. Vanessa Carlysle

warnings & details: reader is photokinetic! This means they can manipulate light waves. My version of photokinesis includes being able to absorb light, sometimes unintentionally. Wade and reader both devalue themselves to sex objects at certain points due to low self-confidence. F/S = Favorite Show.

Wade bursts the door open with excitement, but before shouting “Honeys, I’m home!” he realizes the TV is on. You didn’t stir at the loud door, but he recognizes your favorite show on the TV.

It was something that you and Vanessa watched together, she’d gotten you a box set of the complete series, for your birthday last year. He wonders if that’s what made it your favorite. Either way, you were curled up on the couch, snuggled in a blanket. He was about to get closer to you, to kiss your forehead and tell you he was finally home.

“You know, she stayed up waiting for you. Again.” Vanessa comes out on the bedroom in a robe, looking over you, sadly.

“She should be used to me being late.”

“But she shouldn’t be so goddamn used to you breaking promises,” Vanessa disagrees.

“Promises?”

“It’s her birthday.” She looks at the clock. “Or it was, about three hours ago. Cake’s on the table if you want some, asshole.”

Wade shakes his head, the rare feeling of being ashamed washing over him.

“She begged me to wait, but once it became obvious you weren’t gonna make it… She said we’d eat the cake, but she’d wait to open her present from me, in case you got her anything. Did you?” She nearly snarls the words.

“Yeah, totally, I got her… A gun!” He lifts one from one of his holsters excitedly.

Vanessa presses a finger to her lips, before telling him:

“Y/N’s a dagger person, remember?”

“I take you two for granted,” he sighs.

“Especially her,” she adds bitterly. Vanessa had been the one to introduce you to the relationship, and while Wade definitely loves you just as much, it feels like she’s the only one who shows it, at least to you.

He smooths your hair back, away from your perfect face. Wade looks like he does, and he has the audacity to not only not show up to your mini birthday celebration as he promised, but to forget it as well! You hadn’t even wanted a party. He’d offered, like he was actually gonna make it, but you said you just wanted to spend your special day with the people who mattered.

Maybe this was his subconscious telling him he didn’t.

“What a piece of shit I am…” He mumbles. “I’ll go get her something. Something nice, that she’ll like.”

You begin to stir, sleepy little moans coming from your lips as you try to wake up. You rub at an itchy eye, and that’s when you notice the tall red figure at the end of the couch, the one you’d been waiting for since forever.

“Wade!” You cheer, immediately scrambling to get up and hug him. You wrap your arms tightly around him, so excited. “I’m so glad you’re back, V told me you weren’t gonna make it, but you did, you did, you… Didn’t.” He watches your heart break as you look at the clock, next to the door. “Oh. Well, that’s okay. The cake doesn’t disappear. Neither do- does the present.”

Vanessa usually enjoyed telling people “I told you so.”

She silently hands you the small box, heart in her throat, and you unwrap it, opening the velvet box that was hidden in the paper.

“It’s the brooch from the other day! Oh, Ness, I can’t believe you! How did you even- I don’t wanna know. Thank you! Right now, I just wanna cuddle with my two favorite people in the world.”

That breaks him. No matter how he screws up, you never make him face any real consequences. The relationship doesn’t even need him, not in his head. There’s already a strap-on available to you both, and all he’s good for is that. He’s just a detriment.

“Why don’t you hate me?” He asks.

“Huh? Why would I hate you?” You wonder. Sure, he’s late, but it wasn’t for nothing. He has other, more important responsibilities. It doesn’t matter how you feel, not to you. Besides, you’re just the addition. They’re the real couple.

“I promised I’d be here, Y/N. And I let you down. I always let you down.”

“You were just busy,” you reassure. “Your job is way more important than m-“

“Don’t. Don’t you dare fucking say that,” Vanessa cuts you off, her heart breaking for you. There was no malice in your tone, you’ve just learned the lesson Wade’s taught you and it kills the both of them that they didn’t stop it.

“It’s true?” You say, but it comes out more like a question. “Having your priorities in order isn’t a bad thing.”

“But they weren’t in order, Y/N. I love you, and it’s- It was your birthday. I missed it, I didn’t see you the entire day. I completely forgot. Doesn’t that feel like shit?” He asks.

“Yeah,” you admit, and, finally, a bit of sadness shows in your expression. “It does. But that doesn’t matter, you had more important things to do and that’s okay.” The sadness dissipates from your face, but Wade and Vanessa both know it lingers inside of you.

“But it isn’t!” Vanessa insists.

“Baby…” Wade croons. “You gotta believe me when I say I’m sorry. But, being sorry doesn’t mean the way I’ve treated you is okay. Okay?”

“Okay,” you reply.

“I’m gonna try to work on it, but can you please call me out on my bullshit more?”

“I guess…” you say. “I just wanna go to bed, why can’t we go to bed? We can make a ‘Nessa sandwich!”

“What about a Y/N sandwich? It’s- It was your birthday, after all,” Wade offers. You shake your head, rapid and insistent. They both sigh sadly, but you just wanna cuddle Vanessa and go back to sleep.

The three of you make your way to the bedroom, performing your nighttime routines before cozying up in bed. Vanessa lays down between you two, opening her arms to you. You’d typically latch onto her for comfort, but this time you just shake your head and turn over.

You don’t see the hurt expression on her face, or how she silently denies Wade the right to touch her.

Once you’re confident they’re both asleep, hearing Wade’s steady breathing and Vanessa’s soft snores, you enact your plan. You can’t stay here anymore. You care for them both so much, but you see now that you’re just a strain on the relationship, a guest star whose role had become too big because of poor writing.

You’re already partially packed, you’ve been subtly putting your clean clothes from the laundry into your suitcase. You lived at Xavier’s before this, it was how you met Wade and Vanessa. You still work there now, you’d started teaching the kids music after you finished your bachelor’s degree. Your birthday was the last chance you’d given yourself to get him to care. You know Vanessa does, but now you know for sure that all he sees you as is someone who can give Vanessa something he can’t, just another woman to touch with the lights off.

There’s no way he’s really sorry, is there? He always does this, no matter how it affects you. You know you don’t deserve better, but you’d rather just be alone than deal with this or worse.

You quietly sob as you stuff your things into various bags, an Uber already ordered. You leave the box set of F/S, but not a note. You leave the apartment complex, and don’t look back.

When you arrive at the school, you know it’s late, but don’t care. You enter. Logan’s standing watch. You’ve always liked him, even if he doesn’t seem to like anyone but his adorable daughter, much less you.

“My old room still available?” you ask, biting your lip to hold back the tears you had to hold in once you got in the Uber.

“Yeah, kid,” he says. “Go on.”

“Thanks,” you tell him, trudging up the stairs with all your bags hanging from you. You know you look like shit, and you don’t even care anymore. You’re almost relieved to be alone. That, or you’re just relieved that you don’t have to address your own issues anymore because they don’t affect anyone else but you.

You drop your various bags on the floor, flopping into your old bed and rolling yourself into a poorly-constructed burrito before crashing.

The next morning, you wake up on time. You open your eyes, expecting to be safe in Vanessa’s arms before remembering yesterday.

Worst.

Birthday.

Ever.

You untangle yourself from the comforter and top sheet, getting dressed and ready for breakfast, grabbing something small before heading to your classroom to get set up for the day. You know that Wade and Vanessa probably aren’t even awake yet. They don’t even know you’re gone. That ties your stomach in a knot, wondering how they’ll react. Will they not even care, or worse, will they try to contact you in some way? You just want a clean break.

Your first two periods are elementary schoolers, then you’d have two periods of middle schoolers, with a lunch break in the middle, and the last two periods would be the highschoolers. You had it pretty easy.

The kids giggle amongst each other this morning, as they grab their clickers on the way to their spots on the rug. You arch an eyebrow at all of them.

“Okay, kids, you know how it goes. Vote for your favorite color based on the choices, and the votes’ll go to my laptop. First place and second place will be used to show high and low notes, respectively.”

“What’s respectively mean, again?” Leah asks.

“Well, in what I was saying it means that first place will be high notes, and second place will be low notes.”

The girl nods in acknowledgement, and you notice that all the votes are in.

“You all voted for… Red,” you realize, looking at the computer screen. Your heart hurts a little bit at the thought of the color, but you know they’re just playing a practical joke, and it is pretty amusing. “I see. Well, whatever shall I do?” You play along, before taking some light produced by the ceiling light and creating a gradient from medium to dark red.

“Wow…” the kids ooh and ah at the sparkling thing, as they typically do.

“Alrighty, let’s do solfège as a warm-up. Do, re, mi, fa, so…” you continue the scale, heading to the piano while your students sing along. “Now, we need to practice. The school concert is soon, and all the choirs are going to perform. That means I get to steal you guys from your second period teacher a few days next week so you can practice as a group with the other kids from your level. But that also means we need to practice hard! Stand in your positions, please, everyone,” you request, like you’re commandeering twenty kids as opposed to ten, because that’s what you’re practicing for.

You move the light so that it’s above the piano, and begin to play. You play the background music as well as the notes the kids are supposed to sing, letting the light gradient glow brighter at the high and low ends to remind them where their voices should be.

“I'll stand by you / Take me in, into your darkest hour / And I'll never desert you / I'll stand by you / I'll stand by you / Won't let nobody hurt you / I'll stand by you / Won't let nobody hurt you / I'll stand by you…” the kids finish the song, and you stand from the piano bench, applauding.

“That was amazing, you guys! I’m so proud!” You find yourself wiping away a couple tears, impressed with how far they’ve come.

“Don’t cry, Miss L/N!” Adam says, running over and slamming you with a hug. He’s a small, sensitive boy, but with super strength. “I’m sorry we made you sad.”

“I’m not sad, I promise,” you technically lie. “Sometimes, when someone is really happy, they’re so happy that it overwhelms them and they cry. You kids make me that happy with how hard you work. I’m really proud of every single one of you.” Adam goes back to his position, and you begin the next song: True Colors by Cyndi Lauper.

After a few rounds of both songs, a bathroom break, and some constructive criticism (as well as praise,) the kids head on to their next class.

“Lather, rinse, repeat,” you tell yourself, and you do.

Until your lunch break.

The kids leave for lunch, but you find that you just can’t.

You think about yesterday, how everything’s over. You probably should’ve said something before going, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to. You look to the velvet box holding the brooch on your desk and think that maybe you should call Vanessa now, but the lump from last night returns to your throat and your eyes water up. You realize you’re going to be alone forever, and the waterworks start up again, choking sobs overtaking you. You hide your face in your hands, elbows supporting you on your desk.

There’s a pounding on the door.

“Go on to lunch, third period isn’t for another half hour!” you weakly tell the student or teacher that’s trying to bother you on your break, before dissolving into tears again.

The door opens, and you scramble for a tissue, dabbing at tears and hoping you don’t look like you’ve been sobbing your heart out.

“Oh, love, you look like you’ve been sobbing your heart out,” Vanessa sympathetically says as she enters behind Wade, hurrying towards you.

Wade beats her to you, though, practically yanking you out of your chair and into his arms.

“Oh, thank god, you’re okay. I thought someone took you,” Wade sighs.

“Why would they take me?”

“To get to me or V,” Wade says, like it’s the most obvious thing. “But if no one took you, why were you gone? Why are you crying?”

“I told you, she left. Her stuff is all gone,” Vanessa reminds him. “Tell him, Y/N. And make it clear why.”

“I just don’t belong. I wanted a clean break, because I got too attached to you both, had my expectations too high, considering what I am,” you tell him, avoiding the whites of the mask. Since you couldn’t see him blinking, or any indication of emotion in his eyes, it just felt like an unwavering burn of a gaze. You shrink back, leaning against your desk.

“W-What do you mean, what you are?” Wade stutters.

“I’m just someone who can give Vanessa something you can’t. Just another woman to touch in the dark. I know that’s all it is for you, and that’s okay, because I was the one who built it up to be something it wasn’t in my head. You won’t even let me see your face, and she can. I don’t know why I thought there wasn’t a difference between us.”

“But you didn’t make it up, it evolved from the fling into that. You’re right, originally it was just meant to be a fling, but- But I thought we all loved each other. You- You love me, too, don’t you?”

“Of course I love you, but that doesn’t mean- What?”

“Why do you think yesterday was so upsetting, Y/N?” Vanessa asks you, and you look to her. That’s much easier. She has the softest brown eyes you’ve ever seen and the sweetest smile no matter what emotion it’s conveying. “Tell her, Wade.”

“V and I got a divorce,” he says.

“W-what? I didn’t think they could finalize them that quickly, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble, you two should really go, this is exactly why I wanted a clean break, I-”

“No, babe, not today, and it’s not because of you. Well, not like that,” he reassures, cupping your face in one of his gloved hands. “You see, we decided we didn’t want to be married anymore if we couldn’t be married to the one we both love. So, we got a no-fault divorce, it was finalized about a week ago. We just couldn’t find the right time to tell you.”

“Y-you… You don’t mean…”

“We do,” Vanessa confirms, putting a hand over yours where they rest of the desk. Wade removes his hand from your face, putting it on top of hers.

“But I’m just…”

“Just what? Just as important as us?” Wade tells you, and V nods.

“Quite the opposite,” you reply, looking down at your shoes. Wade tilts your chin up with his free hand, seeming to be searching your face for something. “What?”

“I just- You’re so beautiful compared to me, and I still managed to take you so far for granted that you ran away from home. I’ll do anything if it means you’ll come home to us. Anything,” Wade insists.

It’s so tempting to ask him, but you know it’s wrong to pressure him that way. He seems to get it, though, from your poorly-hidden longing stare. He peels the mask off, and you can’t help but literally glow when you see him. He smiles at your reaction, and the next thing you can’t help is the big kiss you give him, arms flinging themselves around his neck while he hoists you onto the desk. When you break for air, he looks down at you, and you’re happy to look back into his eyes.

“Whoa there, Ms. L/N, we’re at school,” Wade jokes.

“No, I’m not going to spank you with a yardstick,” you joke back, and he and Vanessa both laugh. “I have more classes in a little while, but I promise I’ll come back home after school.”

“Good,.” Wade pulls his mask back on. “See you later, I love you!” he sing-songs, skipping out of the class and down the hall.

Vanessa gives you a long, sweet kiss, admiring your eyes with her own afterwards, and you realize that despite loving both sets, that Wade’s eyes are even softer.

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badchoicesposts · 5 years

Text

Don’t Dream It’s Over Chapter 18

Series Summary: Liam and Ali thought that their relationship was perfect, but their whole world came crashing down when Constantine called him back to Cordonia. Four years later they meet again at Liam’s bachelor party, determined to make things between them work even if it isn’t always easy.

In this AU, Liam and MC (Ali Moonessar) dated for a year in New York while Leo was still crown prince. They broke up when Constantine asked Liam to come back to Cordonia, but they meet again at Liam’s bachelor party before the social season. The story will contain flashbacks, which will be italicized, of their relationship and follow them as they try to navigate the season with Ali as a suitor. I’ve messed around with the timeline a bit so that it fits the story better. I’ve also added in a few OCs of my own.

Pairing: Liam x MC (Ali Moonessar), Platonic!Drake x MC

DISCLAIMER: I’ve changed up the timeline of the social season a bit to fit my story better. I’ve based it off of some research I did on the British Social Season. Some of the dialogue was taken directly from Book 1 of The Royal Romance but was changed a bit to fit my fic.

Taglist: @flowerpowell, @ao719, @kingliam2019, @emceesynonymroll, @hopefulmoonobject, @dcbbw, @qammh-blog, @liamxs-world, @drakesensworld, @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @lauradowning29, @texaskitten30, @senseofduties, @indiacater, @alexintheskyy, @jared2612

A/N: This is my first time ever posting a fic. Please let me know if you enjoyed it and would like to read more. I thrive on validation, lol. Thanks for reading!

Catch Up: Masterlist

It was freezing out. December was in full swing and as the snow fell softly outside, Ali was glad to be in the safety of Drake and Liam’s apartment, trapped on the couch within a blanket burrito of her own making. Winter was her favorite season and there was nothing she loved more than being cuddled up under warm blankets while there was a slight chill in the air of the apartment. Drake had been scarce recently, and Ali had suspicions that he was seeing someone even if he refused to confirm it. Liam, however, was due back home from work any second, and she was eagerly awaiting his return.

As she was reaching for the remote to change the channel, the door opened and the man who was plaguing her thoughts walked in bundled up in a long, black, wool coat, and burgundy scarf in attempts to block out the cold, New York air. There was a slight sprinkling of snow covering his clothing, and as he saw Ali curled up on the couch, he was filled with both envy of her warmth and amusement at her ridiculous appearance. He quickly shrugged off his coat, pulled the blankets off of her and dropped down on top of her small frame. She jumped at the intrusion and hastily reached over his back to throw the blankets back over them.

“What are you doing?” she half-screamed, her body now shivering along with his.

“I was cold,” he said with a chuckle, resting his head on her chest.

Ali smiled down at him and relaxed as she felt the material of his suit jacket under her fingers. She loved the playful side of her boyfriend that not many got to see. However, not seconds later, she jumped again as Liam pushed her shirt up, gripping onto the warm skin of her sides with his cold hands.

“Your hands are freezing!” she said.

She squirmed underneath him in attempts to get away from him, but the weight of his body on top of hers kept her firmly in place.

“Stop touching me with your disgustingly cold fingers,” she whined, still trying to push him away.

“But, you’re so warm,” he spoke into the soft material of her shirt.

By now his hands were beginning to warm up, and although she wanted to be petty and continue to complain about his actions, her heart softened as he closed his eyes and attempted to wrap his arms around her. Ali moved her own hands up from his back and began to run her fingers gently through Liam’s blond hair, causing his body to melt closer into her.

“You’re so lucky that I love you,” she teased.

“I know.”

~~~

Ali pulled her covers up to her chin and stared out the window in her room from her spot on the bed. The sun had risen a few hours ago, and she knew that she should be getting ready for the second day of the Apple Blossom Festival, but she couldn’t seem to find the courage to get out of bed. Last night had been good. It was fun, and she genuinely enjoyed herself. But, for some reason, she broke down in tears as soon as her head hit the pillow. She was exhausted and scared, and having to come home to an empty room after being surrounded by people all day made her feel isolated.

A loud knock startled her, but instead of answering the door, she sunk further into her pillows and pulled her blankets tighter around her body. The knocking persisted, and when she still didn’t respond, the door opened.

“Why are you still in bed?” Bertrand asked, as he and Maxwell walked into the room.

Ali didn’t have a good answer for this. She didn’t know how to explain to them that she didn’t feel like she was strong enough to get out of bed. She didn’t know how to tell them that she felt like she was falling apart; that she knew someone was literally out to get her while she was pregnant with the future heir to the throne, and it was mentally exhausting. All she wanted in that moment was Liam. She wanted to run into his arms and have him tell her that everything was going to be okay, but she knew that once he found out about her pregnancy all hell would break loose. He couldn’t be strong for her right now. She needed to be strong for herself.

“I’m getting up now,” she said instead, throwing the blankets off of her body.

“The best dressed lady today will be crowned Apple Queen. The title itself is mostly just for show, but it is important in terms of impressing the people and gaining their favor,” Bertrand said, urging her to move faster.

He shoved a garment bag into her hand that she hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“What’s this?” she asked, placing it down onto the bed so she could unzip it.

“I was able to procure a historically accurate rendition of a Cordonian peasant’s best gown from the country’s most prestigious stage production company,” he said.

Ali pulled the blue and white dress off of the hanger and went into the bathroom to change. Bertrand wore a satisfied smile on his face when she emerged.

“You are guaranteed to become Apple Queen in this dress,” he said, as Ali fiddled with her hair.

“Are you ready?” Bertrand asked, giving her a once over, his eyes lingering on her face.

She nodded in response, and the three of them made their way out to the orchard.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you, but make sure not to pout in front of the cameras,” Bertrand whispered, looking back down at her face again.

The fact that Bertrand was still being his usual, pushy self was reassuring. It made her feel normal on the outside, even when her mind was bustling with chaos.

The air was buzzing with excitement when they stepped into the orchard, but Ali couldn’t stop looking over her shoulder. The thought that someone was watching her was unsettling.

“Ready to show off your baking skills?” Hana asked, cheerfully.

Lizzie groaned from beside her. The dark-haired woman was wearing large sunglasses and was obviously hungover from drinking too much the previous night.

“Yeah, I am actually,” Ali said happily.

If there was one thing she was happy about, it was that her love for baking was finally being put to use. Although, it didn’t slip her mind that it was kind of ridiculous to be baking in the middle of the orchard.

“Good, because right now you need to focus on impressing the queen. Let everything else fall away and make House Beaumont proud,” Bertrand said from his spot next to her.

He and Maxwell excused themselves, and Madeleine sidled up next to her.

“Lady Alison, it’s so good to see you. I’m glad you’re feeling well enough to join us in the festivities today,” she said in a sweet tone that Ali recognized as anything but nice.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing. You’ve just been looking a little… sick lately,” the other woman commented with a smirk.

“Have I?” Ali asked, wondering if Madeleine actually knew something or if she was just trying to intimidate her again.

“Yes, and I noticed that you left the festival quite early yesterday evening. I have to admit I’m beginning to wonder if the pressure of the season is starting to get to you.”

“Thank you for your concern, but I feel just fine, Madeleine,” Ali said, ending the conversation.

The pie baking competition was easy. She spent most of it taking orders from Olivia, but she felt no need to fight the duchess on this. Olivia seemed to know what she was doing and arguing would have only slowed the process down. It was the Apple Queen ceremony that had Ali completely flustered. She felt like she was suffocating while she stood with the other ladies as the crowd cheered them on.

“Lady Alison will be this year’s Apple Queen,” Regina said, pulling Ali out of her thoughts.

Ali wiped the surprised look off of her face and smiled at the crowd.

“Wooooo! Go, Ali. Party like it 1299! All hail the Apple Queen from the Big Apple!” Maxwell yelled from somewhere in the crowd.

Ali held back a laugh as she approached Regina for the “coronation”

“Queen Regina, it’s an honor. Thank you all for electing me to represent you as the Apple Queen,” she said, meeting Bertrand’s eyes through the group of people. “I’m happy to accept this esteemed position, and I will treat it with the utmost respect.”

He nodded proudly at her, a genuine smile on his face. She went through the rest of the ceremony with a new surge of confidence. She knew that if Bertrand, the most difficult person to impress, was proud of her, then she had done something right.

“As your final honor, you are entitled to a kiss, my queen,” Liam said, approaching her and kneeling before her.

Ali looked down at him, the adoration in his eyes evident, and her mood came crashing back down. Time seemed to stand still in that moment. The pride that she had been feeling just moments before had been replaced with a feeling of guilt for not telling him about the baby. The seriousness of their situation was once again brought to her attention and hearing him call her “my queen” brought up a negative emotion that she couldn’t quite place. It was a cross between longing and dread. Longing for the day he could officially call her that, but dread at the thought that everything would come crashing down and that day would never come.

She remembered all of the good times they had shared together: the two of them wrapped up in each other’s arms in bed, Liam mocking her for being afraid of a nonexistent ghost, their first “I love you”. Then the bad began to come forward: her crying for him at the airport as he got on a plane back to Cordonia, every night she couldn’t sleep without him the first few months after he left, the press cornering them the morning after the bachelor party and Liam dismissing her. A look of confusion passed over his face at her troubled expression, but she quickly wiped it away and forced on a smile.

“Prince Liam, I humbly accept your offer,” she said,

Liam rose to his feet and kissed her cheek gently, his hand squeezing hers in both a comforting and questioning manner. The crowd began to disperse as the Apple Queen ceremony came to an end, and Regina approached her, a diplomatic smile on her face.

“It’s time I head back to Applewood Manor, but please feel free to enjoy the festival as the reigning Apple Queen. Past queens have been popular at the apple bobbing contest.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

The queen walked away, and Ali visibly relaxed.

“There’s our glorious Apple Queen,” Maxwell said happily, pushing past groups of people to get to her.

“I heard you out there. Thanks for cheering me on,” she said, punching his arm playfully.

“Well, somebody had to do it, but I’m actually here to tell you that Liam’s waiting for you in the manor’s conservatory. It’s across the estate.”

“Thanks, Max. I’ll head over there now. Hey, can you meet me later? There’s something I need to talk to you about,” she said.

She had made up her mind. Maxwell had been in her corner since day one, and she needed to tell him. He shot her a confused look, but nodded anyway.

The conservatory was beautiful. As Ali entered it, the smell of flowers and plants overtook her senses, and she stopped to breath it in for a second. It had a calming effect on her. The sun shone through the entire area through a glass ceiling, and it gave her an odd sense of being both outside and inside at the same time. She took a moment to close her eyes and breathe before walking further into the conservatory.

Liam was standing in front of a large fountain in the middle of the conservatory.

“Ali, thank you for meeting me,” he said, a soft smile on his face. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” she said, grabbing his hand and squeezing it in hers.

“You didn’t look fine in the orchard,” he persisted in a low voice.

“Really, I’m okay. It was all just a bit overwhelming.”

“The ceremony?”

Ali nodded in response but didn’t meet his eyes. Liam sighed softly, his concern clearly evident.

“I spoke to Drake,” Liam said, softly.

Ali’s head snapped up. Drake wouldn’t tell him about the baby. There was no way.

“He voiced a concern that the person who tipped off the press about your ‘relationship’ with him may try to hurt you again,” he said.

“And you agree with him?” she asked, quickly recovering.

“I have learned to trust Drake’s instincts. If he believes something is wrong then I know he has reason to.”

“I think it may have been Madeleine.”

“Why do you think that?” Liam asked, shocked.

“She said some things earlier. Maybe she was just being passive aggressive, but they didn’t sit well with me,” she said.

Liam nodded and pursed his lips in concentration.

“I’ll have someone look into it.”

Ali nodded and pointed in the direction of the door. She was trying to get out of their as quickly as possible, her discomfort and paranoia dictating her every move.

“We should probably head back,” she said, already turning to leave.

“Wait!” Liam said, causing her to turn back to him. “Are you sure everything’s okay. You still seem upset.”

Ali sighed. She knew that then would have been the perfect moment to tell him, but as she looked up at him, she couldn’t bring herself to say the words.

“Can you hold me?” she whispered, finally breaking down and needing his arms around her.

Liam looked down at her and pulled her glasses gently off of her face. He placed them into his jacket pocket before pulling her into his arms. Ali buried her face in his chest and willed all of her anxieties away.

“What’s bothering you, my love?” Liam asked, his voice was gentle, soothing.

“I just… have a bad feeling,” she said, moving out of his arms and wiping away a stray tear. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. If there’s something causing this feeling you know you could tell me, right?” he asked, placing his hands on her arms to keep her from turning away from him.

“Of course, I know. There’s just… a lot going on,” she said, nervously fiddling with one of the buttons of his white shirt.

“You mean with the season?” he asked.

She nodded, and reached into his pocket to pull out her glasses.

“We really need to get back out there. Madeleine already noticed that I left the festival early yesterday. I’m sure other people have too,” she said.

Ali reached up and pulled Liam into a gentle kiss. It was slow and soft, and she tried to pour as much of her love into it as possible.

“I love you,” she mumbled against his lips.

“I love you too,” he said, grabbing her hand and leading her out of the conservatory.

They parted ways when they made it back to the orchard, and Ali took Regina’s advice and found the apple bobbing contest.

“Hey, are you going to participate?” Lizzie asked, her sunglasses now off as she chewed an apple.

“Yeah, Regina said that it’s pretty popular with Apple Queens, so I figured I might as well give it a shot,” she said, with a smile.

The crowd cheered enthusiastically as a little girl in a peach dress pulled her head from the bucket, a large apple clenched between her teeth.

“Lady Alison, would you like to go next?” the woman in charge of the booth asked.

“Yes, I would love to,” Ali said, tying her hair back.

She saw the press gather around them enthusiastically as she took off her glasses and handed them to Lizzie. Ali took a breath and picked out an apple before placing her head in the large basin. Her teeth closed around the Cordonian Ruby, and she once again fought back a gag as she raised her head, the press snapping pictures the entire time.

“Oh, these really are terrible,” Ali mumbled to Lizzie under her breath as she took her glasses back.

“I quite like them, actually. But, they’re definitely an acquired taste,” she responded as they linked arms and walked away from the booth.

After she decided that she had spent enough time at the festival, Ali left the orchard and made a beeline for her room, ready to lie down.

“You wanted to talk?” Maxwell asked, already waiting by her door for her.

“We should talk in here,” Drake said, opening the door to his room and nodding for them to come in before she had a chance to respond.

When Ali entered the room she was surprised to see both Bastien and Charlie waiting for them there.

“What’s going on?” she asked confused.

“Maxwell mentioned that you wanted to talk to him earlier, and I figured now would be a good time to tell you our plan,” Drake said.

“Why am I here?” Charlie asked.

“Yeah, what did you need to talk to me about?” Maxwell piped up.

Ali was beginning to get overwhelmed. She had originally only planned on speaking to Maxwell, now she was standing in a room full of men, and she was being forced to talk about something intimate with them.

“Ali, why don’t you take a seat?” Bastien said, placing his hand on her elbow and leading her to a chair in the corner of the room.

Ali took a seat and looked up to Drake for reassurance. He simply nodded at her, and she took a breath.

“I’m pregnant.”

Maxwell and Charlie simultaneously dropped their jaws, and the former snapped his head back and forth between her and Drake.

“The two of you?” he asked, gesturing wildly between them.

It was Ali’s turn to drop her jaw in shock.

“No!” she said, grabbing the cushion that was behind her and throwing it at him.

It hit him square in the face, and Drake let out an amused chuckle.

“I’m sorry! You just looked over at him before you said it so I assumed,” Maxwell said, trying to defend himself.

“Ew! No! I looked over at him because Drake was the only one that knew. Or at least, I thought he was.”

“Hey!” Drake said, offended, “I know we’re just friends, but I wouldn’t say ‘ew’!”

“Really? You want to have this conversation now?” Ali asked sarcastically.

“I just think “ew” is a bit of an exaggeration,” Drake said stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Ali rolled her eyes and was going to respond when Maxwell spoke up instead.

“Liam doesn’t know?” he asked.

Ali looked down at her hands and picked at her fingernail. All of the energy she had from bickering with Drake now suddenly gone.

“Wait. What do you mean you thought Drake was the only one that knew?” Charlie asked.

“I got a tip off that someone was trying to sell pictures to the press of Drake buying a pregnancy test, and Ali throwing up after the Regatta,” Bastien began. “We assumed that the person following them that day is the same one who tipped off the press after the Derby. We don’t know for sure that whoever’s doing this is dangerous, but we need to be extra cautious now that she’s carrying the future heir to the throne. Charlie, you’re Ali’s new guard. I need you to stay close to her at all times and look out for anything suspicious.”

“Yes, sir,” Charlie responded, serious again.

“Ali, you need to tell Liam,” Bastien said softly, now turning to her.

She could see the sympathetic look in his eyes as he spoke. His demeanor now calm and reassuring instead of authoritative like it was before.

“I know,” she responded, nervously biting her lip again.

“Why haven’t you told him yet?” Maxwell asked cautiously, afraid of setting her off again.

“Because I don’t know what’s going to happen when I do. Constantine already doesn’t want me to become queen. How do you think he’s going to react when he hears that I’m pregnant?” she said, gripping tightly onto the arm of the chair she was sitting in.

She was getting increasingly agitated and uncomfortable at the situation she was currently in. The four men exchanged nervous looks, and this only served to irritate Ali even more.

“Don’t do that! If you have something to say then just say it!” she said angrily.

“You’re right. We don’t know what’s going to happen when everyone finds out, and it most likely won’t be good,” Bastien said, approaching her and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “But, Liam needs to know. He can help you through this.”

Ali visibly deflated.

“I know. I’m sorry for yelling.”

“Look, none of us know what you’re going through, but we just want to help. Get some rest tonight. You can think about talking to him tomorrow,” Drake said, as everyone began walking to the door.

Ali nodded and got up from her chair as well, wishing she could just curl up and sleep through the next nine months.

#the royal romance #trr #the royal heir #trh #liam x mc #the royal romance fic #drake walker #trr fic #liam x mc fanfic #liam x mc fic #my fics #liam #king liam #choices #choices fics #playchoices #playchoices fics

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lesbian-peanut-writer · 5 years

Text

Morning Greetings

Thanks to @cheeky-kitsune for the idea for this little story, this happens to be one of the shortest ones I’ve ever written but I’m glad that I did. I was almost tempted to extend on it while I was rewriting it and bringing it over from my old blog but wasn’t sure if I wanted to or not.

~Lesbian Peanut

It was a day just like any other day that passed in the tranquil house shared by four students; the first rays of the morning sun had long since accosted the world with their existence and were now heavily bearing down on the quaint little house. It was rare for the house to be so quiet, considering it played home to four extremely irksome and yet somehow reliable students whom all were currently undertaking study at the renowned Sabertooth College. Most in the neighbourhood chose to keep their distance from the four occupants of the house, they knew all too well the reputation that their College held and none of them wanted to get mixed in with any of their shenanigans. Though not as notorious nor troublesome as the infamous Fairy Tail College had become over the past several years, Sabertooth was still completely capable of landing themselves in hot water when it came to starting trouble. One more than one occasion these four housemates could be found to be at the middle of whatever trouble had been caused by the College, that was when they weren’t trying to kill one another.

Sting tiptoed through the house, careful so as not to tread on any of the floorboards that made a noise as he made his way up the stairs. One thing he was positive about being unmoving this early in the morning, was the occupant he was currently on his way to go see. Sting often loved to awaken his best fiend Rogue, the man had the tendency to sleep in until all hours of the day and if he was left to his own devices; he would happily spend the whole day sleeping. Today however, was a Sunday but not just any normal Sunday, no this one just happened to be the day when Sting had planned to wash the bedding. Sting made sure that everyone in the house was made aware of his schedule for washing bedding, that way they would know which days they had to rise early from their slumber. Today being bed day meant that Sting needed for Rogue to get his arse out of bed, allowing the blonde to steal his bedding so he could start the washing.

Sting was cautious as he pried open the door to his best friend’s room, tentatively peeking his head around the door and making sure that the emo on the other side was in fact still safely tucked away in his bed. His brows knit together as his forehead creased, frowning at the sight he was greeted with or rather wasn’t greeted with. The inside of the room was bathed in completely darkness and Sting was finding himself unable to make out the basic outline of his friend’s bed! Sting had known Rogue since the two of them were small children, meaning that he knew more about the man than what most did and some even considered the two of them to be actual partners; seems as they were inseparable most of the time.

There was a long, exasperated sigh from Sting as he ran his fingers along the wall, pausing in his task as he found the sweet switch that his long appendages had bee searching for. There was a dark glimmer that flickered over Stings face as a smirk pulled at the edges of his lips and he flicked on the light switch quickly, bounding across the room to his buddy in his bed. The sound of a feral snarl sounded from within the depths of the blankets, a prominent lump could be seen where Rogue was lying and Sting almost laughed as the now agitated man hoisted the covers up over his head. Sting was aware that Rogue hated bright lights when he first woke up, it was part of the reason why the man slept with so many blankets on his bed and the other part was due to situations such as this.

Rogue groaned in absolute protest as he moved to roll over in his bed, pulling the blankets down tight over his head and cocooning himself within the layers of warmth. This was Rogue’s attempt to prevent the blonde bombshell he was certain had just inevitably walked into his room, from stealing his sanctuary of darkness from him. He knew all too well it would have been Sting who had suddenly turned his once peaceful dark room into a blazing ball of HELL NO! There was no one else in the room who bothered to try waking Rogue from his slumber, they knew that all attempts would leave the man agitated and disgruntled for the remainder of the day.

Sting couldn’t help but to chuckle as he walked over to the bed, sitting down on the edge of the mattress and placed his hand atop his best friend’s head making sure to get a good purchase on the blanket beneath his hand. He had been rather surprised when he had turned the lights on, finding the bed wasn’t covered from head to toe in pillows as he had always known it to be. Though to be fair, that probably had something to do with the fact that Sting had taken the initiative to remove all the pillows from his bed and use them as kindle for a bonfire. The entire incident had only come about due to the two off them having one of their little tiffs, they were a common occurrence but they always ended with one of them ruining something of the others. Sting had of course taken to apologising profusely afterwards to the moody man, who for a week couldn’t seem to find the comfort he sought in his own bed.

“Sting, I swear to Lucifer himself that if you don’t turn that damn light out and get your arse off my bed right now before hightailing your pretty blonde hair out of my room; I’m going to personally murder you!” Rogue growled as he moved his leg about under the covers, an attempt to kick the blonde off from where he had felt obligated to park his rear end.

Sting quirked an eyebrow as he watched the man’s futile attempts at trying to kick him, chuckling as he moved his hand and pushes the offending legs back across the bed. “You know Rogue, if you wanted to swear at yourself all the time then you really don’t have to wait to threaten me in order to do so. That shit really isn’t good for your health, my man.” He teased as he hoisted himself up off the bed, moving to stand beside it as he looked down at the man under his covers. “Wait, you think my hair is pretty?” He mused as his frown wavered into a playful smile and he tilted his head to the right in question.

“The only thing not good for my health in this damn house, is your blonde bombshell of an arse which feels the need to interrupt my sleep!” The moody man muttered to himself as he rolled onto his back, frowning as he rested his arm over his eyes. Rogue detested being woken like this and he knew the moment he took the covers off his face, he would inevitably be subjecting himself to the blonde on the other side of them.

“Ah, alright then… Now up with you. I need your bedding so I can start with the washing and you knew before you went to bed last night that it was washing day today, Rogue.” Sting muttered as he crossed his arms over his chest, shaking off the previous statement from the man as he patted him on the stomach. He knew that it wouldn’t be easy to persuade his best friend out of the comfort of his own bed, especially not without the peace offering of coffee that the man seemed to worship like a god. He scratched the back of his head as he sighed heavily, without coffee to offer to the poor man he knew he was in for a fight to get the bedding. Unfortunately, that morning all the coffee had been used before Sting had even managed to drag his own arse out of bed and no coffee ensured absolutely no cooperation from Rogue.

“Sting, I don’t know what you happen to call this ungodly hour of yours but it is too early for me to be getting out of bed, let along rising on a Sunday. I mean, it’s a god damn Sunday for crying out loud Sting! You realise we must be up early for College tomorrow, right? I am not leaving my bed early for you on the day before we must go back to that hellhole. Washing day or not, I’ll be damned if I ever let that happen.” Rogue protested as he huffed and kicked his legs up in agitation, causing the blankets to balloon out from under his legs.

Sting was used to this sort of behaviour, he often had to deal with it and to tell the truth his found the shenanigans of his best friend to be rather adorable while leaning towards childish. In fact, it was quite often it felt like Sting was caring for a dependent child rather than that of a grown arse man, who he knew had a rather fine arse might he just add. “Rogue calling the College a hellhole isn’t a very strong argument on your behalf, I mean you are always proclaiming to me that you were born in the fiery pits of hell.” Sting pointed out to the man as he tugged on the edge of the blanket firmly. “Unless you’re planning on taking up permanent residency at the College, I’d suggest you find another way to insult that place.”

Rogue cursed internally as he held tight tot the top of his blankets, keeping an iron grip on the one thing that was keeping the light out of his eyes at this ungodly hour. He was in no way ready to relinquish himself nor his bedding to the blonde mand that was waiting on the other sides of his covers, besides he was aware that it would be cold without his blankets. He growled in annoyance as Sting pulled at the covers harder, causing him to roll away from the blonde and pull the blankets with him; rolling himself up into a poorly wrapped burrito. Rogue stopped rolling over the expanse of his queen bed with his back exposed to the world and the blanket mostly tucked up under his body. He would be damned if he was going to make this easy and allow the blonde to win so easy.

Sting blinked as he eyed up Rogue’s back, chuckling to himself before moving around the bed and grabbed a hold of the blankets once more. He pulled on the blankets, chortling in amusement as Rogue lifted off the bed along with the blankets and kept his death grip on the sheets of material. “Alright, either you get up or I’m going to pull it out!” Sting said seriously as he gripped the blankets tight with both hands, preparing himself for having to pull them out from under his best friend’s body and from within his death grip.

There was a moments silence between the two of them as Rogue blinked, taking in what Sting had said to him, blinking as the words clicked into place in his brain. He lifted his head up off the bed, rolling onto his back before poking his head out from under the blankets. He quirked his eyebrows as he locked eyes with Sting, a challenge forming within the depths of the onyx haired man’s eyes and he couldn’t help but to smirk. “Promise…?” Rogue whispered as he ran his eyes down along Sting’s body before following the path back up to his face.

Stings mind was sent reeling before momentarily going blank, staring down at his best friend as he allowed himself to digest what had just occurred between them. Had he just been challenged in the manner of which he thought he had been challenged, or was all that just in his head and a figment of his imagination. No, he was almost positive that his friend or many years had indeed just challenged him and was not referring to the blankets he was trying to pry from him in any way. Sting felt his cheeks heat in a flash as he realised that Rogue was being a prude and that what was supposed to have been an innocent threat of sorts had now become a dirty challenge.

Rogue smirked smugly as he took in the red that was dusting itself over Sting’s cheeks, moving to pull the blankets up over his head and declare himself victorious for the time being. “I didn’t think so, Blondie!” He chuckled as he allowed his eyes to slide shut, his mind pondering over the look that had adorned the blonde bombshell’s face.

Sting was quick to shake off the incident, gaining control over his thoughts as his eyebrows knit together in concentration. He smirked as he let go of the blankets quickly, undoing his pants in a hurried manner before grabbing a hold of the tops of the blankets once again and pulled his top off. He took glee in watching Rogue’s expression shift from that of smug triumph to one of shock, his cheeks flooding crimson as Sting climbed atop of his bed and displayed himself in all his glory to his best friend. “I warned you that I’d get it out if you didn’t get up. Now, get sucking you, shadowy princess!” Sting retorted in triumph as he smirked down at the now frazzled man beneath him.

Minerva smiled happily as she leaned back away from the door, having heard enough of their frivolous conversation to know that her point had been proven to her younger counterpart besides her. “See, I told you those two morons wouldn’t be needing breakfast this morning. Though I suppose you were right in a way that they would both have to be hungry by now, just not for food and more for each other.” She said softly as she watched the shorted woman beside her.

Yukino leaned away from the door slowly, her cheeks ablaze from the conversation she had overhead and the noises she had just caught from their housemates on the other side of the door. She looked up into the deep eyes of the slightly older woman standing beside her, the confidence and victory in Minerva’s eyes only causing her blush to darken and heat to flood through her face completely. She nodded in recognition of what Minerva had said before turning around on her heel, moving to walk off down the hallway, wanting to put as much distance between her and that room as she possibly could. Yukino knew better than most people than to interfere with anything that Minerva gave her approval of, especially when it came to Sting and Rogue who had been unbearably flirting with each other for too long now.

Minerva’s smirk died down into a soft and tender smile as she watched the younger woman walk away from the door, her steps tentative as the frazzled woman took her time to make her way to the stairs. Her soft, tender smile stretching across her face as she watched the poor and innocent woman. Minerva would be lying if she said she was feeling apologetic for making Yukino listen in on the boys but she wasn’t, after all she had the same desire for the little woman as what Rogue did for Sting. And neither would I if I could just devour you my precious Princess! She thought to herself as she pushed her body off the wall, moving after the one of whom she undeniably had her heart set on.

#sting eucliffe #eucliffe sting #rogue cheney #cheney rogue #sting x rogue #eucliffe x cheney #rogue x sting #cheney x eucliffe #stingue #scenario #fairy tail #ft imagines #fairy tail imagines #character x character #lime

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diobrandossucculenttitties · 6 years

Note

Giomis for the ask thingy. Gimme your thoughts and opinions plz

Who is a night owl: I believe that Giorno would be the night owl out of the two. Mista would be the type to actually like sleeping, could be a favorite pass time.

Who is a morning person: Mista! Do you really think Gigi would be the type to wake up early? Giorno is a little gremlin in the morning......

Are they cuddlers: Of course these two are cuddlers.

Who is the big spoon: Giorno is the big spoon. The Don of passione will never be the little spoon!

Who is the little spoon: Mista is the little spoon. He doesn’t mind it one bit. Getting to feel Giorno attempt to get his arms around him makes him feel all warm and tingly on the inside.

What is their favourite sleeping position: They don’t have one.

Who steals all the blankets: Giorno steals all the blankets. He likes being wrapped like a burrito when he gets cold. Mista has to fight for just a corner of it in the middle of the night.

What they wear to bed: Mista likes the bare minimum. So it’s either in the nude or he wears boxers. Giorno probably has silk pajama sets to sleep in.

Who likes seeing the other wearing their t-shirt: Mista loves to see Giorno wearing his t-shirt. Especially if Giorno decides to wear one to bed. Its too cute of a sight when he wakes up in the morning with crazy bed hair and part of the shirt draping off of his shoulder.

Who falls asleep mid-conversation: Both of them depending on the situation at hand. If Giorno is running on fumes and gets comfortable enough where ever he is sitting he’ll fall asleep. Mista may just do it to be a smart ass and avoid boring ass conversations.

Who wakes up in the middle of the night with nightmares: Giorno.

Who accidentally punched the other in their sleep: I peg Giorno to be a wild sleeper so there are plenty of nights that Mista had jumped out of his sleeping thinking he was being attacked by an enemy because his boyfriend/Boss swings his extremities wildly in his sleep......

Who can’t keep their hands to themselves: Giorno. He’s the first to initiate any sexual act or just wanting to be cuddled. Gotta be direct when wanting things.

Who said “I love you” first: Mista did.

Who would have the other’s picture as their phone background: That’s not going to happen for either of them. They’re in the mafia. Gotta keep themselves safe.

Who leaves notes written in fog on the bathroom mirror: Mista. Only to annoy Giorno. Nothing heartfelt just shit like ‘Nice ass Boss’ or ‘Get your hair outta the drain before you clog it’.

Who buys the other cheesy gifts: Eh none... they aren’t ones for cheesy shit.

Who initiated the first kiss: Giorno initiated the first kiss. After confessing to each other Mista was mumbling nervously so Giorno helped quiet him down. ;)

Who kisses the other awake in the morning: Mista kisses Giorno awake. Though it doesn’t last because Mista has bad morning breath and Giorno most likely pushed him away because of it.

Who starts tickle fights: Mista so he can hear Giorno’s beautiful laughter~

Who asks who if they can join the other in the shower: Giorno asks. Mista doesn’t like him showering with him all the time since he takes forever and hogs all the hot water.

Who surprises the other in the middle of the day at work with lunch: Mista is usually the one who does that. Giorno gets sucked into his work and usually closes out the world so he can focus.

Who was nervous and shy on the first date: Mista. He didn’t want to screw anything up.

Who kills/takes out the spiders: Mista has to do that. Giorno hates spiders. Those things just aren’t natural and need to be exterminated from this planet.

Who loudly proclaims their love when they’re drunk: Giorno. He’s a happy drunk and just wants his boyfriend and everyone else know how much he is in love with him.

(Jeez this took me forever to do...i don’t know why.....)

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stevenandandrewbianchi · 7 years

Text

The Bed-Sharing Fic

The other night some people and I were talking about how sleeping arrangements might work between The Worth It Boys at hotels when they travel, and we ended up talking about all three of them piled into one big bed with Adam in the middle, and no one else really intended stadamdrew but my stadamdrew-shipping heart maaaaayyyyy have run away with the idea anyhow?

So have a very self-indulgent stadamdrew bed-sharing fic

One-hundred and twenty-four.

One-hundred and twenty-four individual tiles made up their weird hotel-room ceiling and Adam had counted them all. In the dark. Twice. Okay, that wasn’t quite true, since Adam could really only see the fuzzy outline of about ten tiles directly above his head, but he had guessed there were one-hundred and fourteen throughout the rest of the room, if his estimations of the room’s dimensions were accurate.

He’d had a lot of time to lay there and think about nonsense.

The clock on the bedside table read out 3:16 in big red numbers: four hours since him, Steven, and Andrew had all piled into the one giant bed they’d ended up with- (“I really don’t know how this happened, or even that they made beds this big? I think that might be a pull-out couch? Someone could take that.” “Steven, this bed’s huge. We’re not making one of us sleep on a pull-out couch; just get in.”)- and two hours since Adam had resigned himself to the fact that he was never going to get to sleep with Andrew’s obnoxious snoring right in his ears. (He’d tried earlier in the night to just sort of pinch Andrew’s nose shut to see if he’d stop, but then he’d gotten worried about Andrew not being able to breathe. Then he’d found himself distracted by thoughts like ‘Has Andrew always had such nice eyelashes?’ and ‘He has such sharp cheekbones…’ and- he decided he’d just have to live with the snoring.)

It was also nearly December and freezing and somehow, despite him being in the middle of the bed, he’d ended up without any of the covers. Steven had wound himself up in the fluffy comforter while Andrew ended up wrapped in the sheet beneath, leaving Adam blanket-less in the middle.

Though, one could say he was sort of covered in the way that, throughout these past four hours Steven and Andrew had both managed to sprawl their limbs all over him. Both of Steven’s legs had ended up wrapped around one of his, with a leg and an arm from Andrew resting over his hips and his chest. He probably could have moved them without disturbing them too much (and if he did wake them, then hey, taste of their own medicine), but if he was being honest it was- really nice. Something about Steven’s legs entwined with his, the way he could feel Steven’s smooth skin against his own when he shifted in his sleep, made something warm settle in his chest. And don’t even get him started on how the weight of Andrew’s limbs over-top of him- Andrew’s arm settled almost protectively over his chest- made it a little hard for him to breathe (and not because Andrew was particularly heavy).

So he let them be, sprawled comfortably over their cameraman, warm in their blankets, while he counted blurry, blurry ceiling tiles and shivered and tried to ignore Andrew’s snoring and Steven’s little, mumbled whispers- wait, what?

Adam turned his head to see Steven, eyes still shut, shifting against his pillow, lips slowly moving as he mumbled something about- bagels?

“Thissa bes bagel I’ve ev- ever had…”

Adam was well-trained in holding back blushes, but holy shit that was adorable and he could feel the warmth rushing to his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

“Yo’ both look so…cute when yo’ smile cuz o’ food…”

Okay, yeah, Adam’s face was definitely on fire now, especially with the way Steven was squishing his face against the pillow as he mumbled. Too fucking cute…

Usually, this was when Adam would try to hide. He’d look away and curl up against the door of the car or hide behind his camera or his laptop until he could force the overly-fond smile off his face, the blush off his cheeks, but it was 3:30 AM in a dark hotel room and his best friends were asleep- noisy, but asleep. No one was there to see him as he let the smile unfurl on his face, let himself enjoy the warmth pooling in his chest

And if, in the next few moments, Adam found himself snuggling a little closer to Andrew’s hold, found himself reaching a hand out to run it, feather-light, through Steven’s soft, silver hair- well, who had to know?

Morning came slowly, with the creeping stretch of a sunbeam bathing the bed with golden light. Adam still hadn’t managed to get to sleep, but he was somehow okay with that.

About the time that the sunlight had reached Andrew’s face, glinting off his long blond lashes in a way that made Adam want to bury his face in the pillow, he’d gently pried himself away from Andrew’s hold, delicately lifting the other man’s arm off his chest until it lay between their heads. He also slowly pulled his legs up closer to his torso, trying to carefully disentangle them from Steven’s. Steven just mumbled something, soft and slurred, about brunch burritos, and turned over to face the wall, fortunately still asleep. Andrew’s leg across Adam’s hip, however, was another matter entirely. Adam couldn’t turn and wiggle out from under it without rolling into Steven, but if he tried to push it off he’d probably wake Andrew. Eventually he decided he had to let it be, and he pulled his phone out from under his pillow to scroll the internet until Steven’s alarm went off.

Two long, slow hours passed until the room finally filled with the sudden upbeat melody of a pop song that Steven had probably enjoyed until he made it his alarm tone. Adam let his phone rest against his chest as he felt Steven curl further into his comforter cocoon. “Aaaaaaandrew,” he whined, muffled under the blanket, “turn it ooooff.”

The only sign that Andrew had woken was him moving his leg groggily off of Adam (Adam tried his best to pretend he didn’t miss the weight of it), so Adam hadn’t expected that Andrew had even registered Steven’s words until he muttered, voice brusque and rough with sleep, “It’s your phone, Steven.”

“Yeah, but you’re closer.”

Had Adam been any farther away, he’d have missed the fond “whatever, you dweeb” Andrew muttered under his breath before grabbing Steven’s phone off the nightstand and turning the alarm off.

Steven and Andrew eventually pulled themselves out of their blankets, Adam already sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. He reached a hand silently towards the bed-side table and Andrew, movements still a little slow with the pull of sleep, handed him his glasses. Steven had managed to splay himself out over the bed again, having kicked the comforter onto the floor, and he looked up at Adam with one eyebrow raised. “Dude, you look like you didn’t sleep at all.”

Adam just shrugged. “Andrew snores.”

“And it looks like we stole all the blankets,” Andrew added, flipping his sheet onto Adam with a playful sort of smile. Adam ignored his heart’s little flip-flop and tried not to stare as the light from the window practically made Andrew glow, but something left-over from the night made it hard for him to resist. Fortunately, Steven’s sudden laugh broke him out of the trance, but it wasn’t like looking over at Steven and finding his sleepy laughing face looking up at him made it any easier not to stare.

“Well, hopefully next time our hotel won’t mess up and we’ll get the right bed arrangements.”

Adam opened his mouth, almost protested. He wanted to say ‘If it means getting to watch you mumble cute, sweet nonsense into your pillow I’d shiver all my nights away.’ He wanted to say ‘I’ll deal with Andrew’s snoring every night if it means getting to feel his arm around me.’ He wanted to say ‘I’d rather lose a night of sleep with you both piled on top of me than get a full night’s rest anywhere else.’

He wanted to, but he didn’t.

He just shrugged. “I’d do it again.”

#stadamdrew #jack made a thing #/#//#///#fic

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sunalsolove · 7 years

Text

[Fic] Out of This World [1/1]

Title: Out of This World

Author: @sunalsolove

Summary: Faith and Tara are on the road in New Mexico, where there’s plenty of sun, sand, green chile, and maybe even something unexpected.

Pairing: Faith/Tara

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Adult language and mild sexual content.

A/N: Beta’d by @robotgort . Written for @captain-forehead for the @buffyfemslash secret santa exchange 2017 from the prompt: Roadtrip. Happy New Year!

Under read more for length (~2.1 K)

****

Faith was not impressed. New Mexico was brown and dusty and there was next to nothing to do. Unless you were a jackrabbit or someone looking to hide, this was not the place to be.

The desert scrub stretched into the distance on either side of I-40, even the dawn creeping over the horizon couldn’t do much to soften the landscape. It was empty and hard…Faith cursed. Maybe she didn’t like it so much because it was too much like the landscape inside her. At least the ocean, palm trees, and crowded sidewalks of Los Angeles were a distraction.

She glanced over at the reason she’d agreed to take this trip in the first place. Tara, blonde hair loose around her shoulders, sat in the passenger seat of the Faith’s vintage 1980s red Firebird. She yawned, and Faith found herself doing the same. It was stupidly early in the morning. They’d stayed at some flea-bitten hotel the night before, which disappointingly had only had a room with two beds and even more disappointingly had a roach in the bathtub. Faith had spent a half hour catching the damn thing and carrying it outside because Tara wouldn’t let her squish it.

The adoring look in Tara’s eyes had made the whole shebang worth it.

Faith and Tara had been…well, fuck if Faith knew what they were doing. They were sort of friends, but maybe more, or maybe not. Tara had been slow to rejoin the land of the living after Willow had died. Tara had nearly lost her own life to a bullet and losing someone she loved on top of that, it’d made her withdraw. Faith had barely noticed her during that whirlwind year fighting the First in Sunnydale, but afterward, when the dust had slowly settled and everyone had ended up in Los Angeles, Tara had become harder and harder to ignore.

She was the opposite of Faith: soft, shy, warm. Tara really listened and could be quietly supportive with no judgment. At some point, Faith had found herself hanging out more with Tara then with any of the new Slayers, Buffy, or what remained of Angel and his team. Tara was something Faith had never had before, a safe place to land.

One day, wanting to be around had changed to wanting to know what Tara’s lips tasted like or if her skin was as soft as it looked. Faith was almost sure Tara was attracted to her, but she didn’t know how to ask. Tara wasn’t some random person Faith was going to pick up for a one-night stand, and she didn’t have any experience going the long haul with someone, but Tara made her want to try. Faith just didn’t know how to tell her that. Now she wasn’t sure where she stood with Tara, so when Giles had asked them to head to New Mexico to check out a rash of reports talking about mysterious lights in the desert, Faith had jumped at the chance. So far exactly zero had happened, but there was still time.

Faith wasn’t used to her courage failing her, but she’d never wanted something real like this before.

It was terrifying and exhilarating. She tightened her hands on the Firebird’s wheel. This wasn’t something she could screw up.

A billboard caught her eye.

“Hey, you want some breakfast?” Faith asked.

“Does it require me to open my eyes?”

“In, like, thirty minutes. There was an ad for someplace in Albuquerque known for their cinnamon buns.”

That got Tara’s attention. “Really?

Faith smiled. It felt good to get something right.

****

The restaurant was totally western kitsch. ‘The Frontier’ the sign on the front read and the inside was filled with paintings and decorations of the old West. It was pretty awesome, actually, but Faith was playing it cool. Tara, on the other hand, was staring round-eyed at everything and eagerly pointing out her favorites. It was making the whole thing more fun. Tara had that kind of magic, the kind that made the world seem a less tired place to be in, even for a Slayer.

Carrying the tray, Faith followed behind Tara, who chose a table next to an oversized picture of John Wayne.

“This thing’s the size of my head,” Tara said, picking up a fork and poking at the cinnamon bun.

“If that’s your head, this is my arm.” Faith was appalled at the sheer size of the breakfast burrito she’d ordered. It was going to require a knife and fork to eat, and maybe some other people to finish it up. And more green chiles. Those things were yummy. She cut herself a bite.

“Do you think we’re actually going to find anything out there?” Tara asked, her mouth full. There were drops of sticky sugar on her lips, making them glisten. Faith wanted to lean over and lick them off. Instead, she casually leaned back against her chair.

“Hell if I know. Giles must think something’s up, otherwise, he would have sent a couple of the baby Slayers, but he must not have expected the worst since he didn’t send Buffy and Spike.”

Tara giggled. “Like they would have been useful, they’d probably just be out in the desert sucking face all night.”

Faith rolled her eyes and hunched forward a little, pretending she hadn’t just been thinking about doing something similar with Tara. “Yeah. They make me ill.” She stabbed another piece of her burrito.

“Love can be nice,” Tara said.

Faith didn’t look up, just stuffed the bite into her mouth and nodded. She dumped some of her extra chile on the next piece she cut.

Tara, ever perceptive, changed the topic. “Do you really like that stuff?”

“I’m eating it, aren’t I?”

“That’s not an answer.”

Faith tapped the handle of her knife on the table. “It tastes good. You should try it.”

“You still didn’t tell me if you like it.”

Faith finally looked up at Tara, who was smiling slightly. “Fine. Have it your way. I like it. There, happy?”

The smile got a little wider. “Did it hurt to say it?”

Faith made a face. “I think I broke my arm.”

Tara reached over and patted Faith’s shoulder. “There, there. Maybe I should kiss it and make it better?”

Faith’s heart jumped sideways in her chest. The teasing tone, the happy expression, the warmth in Tara’s eyes. Faith’s knee jiggled up and down.

“I’ll ask again later,” Tara said gently. She cut another bite of cinnamon roll and slowly wrapped her lips around it.

Faith’s knee bounced faster.

****

The desert didn’t look quite as ugly as it had that morning as twilight unfurled across the vast sky. They were somewhere south and east of Albuquerque, pretty much in the exact middle of nowhere. The paved road had turned into a gravel road, which had become a dirt road, that’d led to an eventual dead end. There was sagebrush, scrub, and lots of rocks leading off to distant hills and mesas.

Faith had parked the Firebird and pulled a bunch of blankets and pillows out from the backseat and Tara had set up a kind of nest on the hood of the car. There were quilts under them for padding and a few on top, since it was spring and the nights were still chilly. They were seated on the hood and reclined against the car’s windshield.

“This is sort of silly,” Faith said. “A couple people say they see some fast moving, low flying lights and a witch and a slayer end up staring up at the sky in an open field?”

Beside her, Faith could feel Tara shrug. “It’s been a pretty persistent rumor.”

“It’s probably just a helicopter or drug smugglers or something.”

“Or something.”

In the distance, coyotes howled in an eerie chorus.

Faith shivered.

Tara rolled on her side towards Faith. “Don’t tell me you’re scared?”

“I don’t know about being out in…in…”

“Nature?”

“Yeah.” Faith fidgeted with a loose thread on one of the blankets. A star appeared in the sky as dusk started to become night. “I know how to survive in the city. There I’m all five by five. Here…I don’t know anything about how to stay alive unless it’s something I kill because it tries to kill me first. I guess that wouldn’t be anything new.”

Tara let out a small sigh. “You don’t have to worry. I know a thing or two about being outdoors, and I think we have enough Twinkies and soda to survive for the next three months.”

Faith snorted and kept her eyes on the sky, now a deep purple with more stars making themselves visible.

“What else are you scared of, Faith?” Tara curled a strand of Faith’s dark hair around her finger and gently tugged.

Faith thought about lying. Saying something dumb like spiders or heights, but they were out here, alone, with no one else around for miles. There was no reason to run or hide. “You,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“Me?” Tara sounded completely confused. “You’re scared of me?”

Faith laughed softly. “Not that you’re going to make me into a newt.” She yanked harder on the thread, but it stayed stubbornly attached to the quilt. “I think I’m saying it wrong. I’m not frightened of you. Just…how I feel about you.”

“Oh.”

Faith bit her lip and closed her eyes when Tara didn’t say anything further. Fuck. Faith had thought that maybe Tara had been feeling the same, but it was probably a whole bunch of wishful thinking bullshit and…

Soft.

Tara’s lips were soft and her body warm and luscious. She’d rolled so she was halfway on Faith, smushing her slightly against the Firebird’s windshield. It was a nice smush. Faith wrapped her arms around Tara, holding her close.

When Tara broke the kiss and they were both panting for air, Faith looked up into Tara’s eyes, which were hard to read in the darkness.

“I like you,” Faith said, her voice husky.

“I like you too, it’s why I kissed you.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Faith laughed. “I…I’m bi…bisexual.”

Tara blew out a breath. “And I’m a lesbian and the sky is blue. Any other really obvious things we should state?”

“I just thought I should say it, because some people—”

“I’m so not some people.”

Faith cupped Tara’s cheek. “You got that fucking right.”

Their mouths met again, hungry for each other. Faith’s hand slid down Tara’s back, found the gap between her blouse and skirt, and brushed over the bare skin there.

Tara gasped and shuddered in Faith’s arms, which made Faith bolder. She inched her fingers under Tara’s top until she found the strap of Tara’s bra. Faith slipped a finger under it and traced back and forth, delighted by how Tara wiggled and moaned.

Faith closed her hand over the bra’s fastenings when a blindingly bright white light flared to life from above.

Tara squeaked and rolled off Faith onto her back.

Hovering above the Firebird was…something. It was more than three times the size of the car, roughly triangular in shape, and had three lights which were spotlighting the car, throwing the surrounding desert into stark relief.

“Hey! Close Encounters!” Faith shouted. “No free shows!”

The…something spun lazily overhead, then darted straight up, soundlessly and incredibly fast, until it had disappeared among the stars.

“Was that…what I think it was?” Tara asked in a tiny voice.

Faith snorted. “It was probably a weather balloon.”

“I’m sure,” Tara said with a giggle. “I suppose we should go tell Giles about our weather balloon sighting? I can tell him I didn’t get any scary, negative feeling from said weather balloon.”

Faith sat forward and put her head in her hands. “Yeah, sure.” She didn’t know if Tara was going to try and pretend what had been happening before the…something had shown up, hadn’t been happening. It might have been more of a fluke than the lights.

Tara rubbed Faith’s back. “No pouting. We can stop and get one of the green chile cheeseburgers you like so much, and I bet we can find a motel that only has one room with a single bed left to rent.”

“Okay,” Faith said. “That doesn’t sound so bad.” She leaped off the hood of the car and paused. “Are you going to bitch the whole time that I taste like green chiles?” Inside her heart was beating a million times a minute. That didn’t sound like Tara was going to pretend to forget at all.

Tara blushed. “Maybe I don’t mind them so much after all.” She gathered up the blankets and pillows. “And maybe we’re going to need a nice, long trip here to explore all kinds of interesting…phenomenon.”

“I like the sound of that.”

Tara caught Faith’s eye. “Me too.”

Overhead, a shooting star streaked across the heavens.

#buffy femslash secret santa #Tara x Faith #btvs fanfiction

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sarkastically · 7 years

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(The thing that no one ever asked for but that I wanted to do anyway)

the headcanon challenge:

Who hogs the duvet?

Chirrut. Not just the duvet but the whole entire bed. Baze got used to sleeping up against the wall back when they were young because Chirrut was always crawling into his bed for warmth/because he had a bad dream/because Baze had a bad dream/because neither one of them could sleep. Chirrut is a restless sleeper and just takes all the space he can get, kicks, flails, rolls while Baze, when he can sleep, is pretty solid so it just made sense for him to make himself as small as possible and take up the least amount of space. He doesn't mind even when he gets an arm to the face in the middle of the night. Though he definitely just, like, locks an arm around Chirrut some night to hold him close for a few hours. And Baze runs hot anyway so he doesn't mind when Chirrut steals the blankets except that sometimes Chirrut makes himself into a blanket burrito and then rolls off the bed and the resulting cursing will wake Baze.

Who texts/rings to check how their day is going?

Baze. Worrywart Baze on his phone ALL. DAY. LONG. "Why haven't you messaged me back?" "What are you doing?" "Chirrut." "Where are you?" Also Baze uses full sentences with proper punctuation and very little shortened. Chirrut's responses however are fucking ridiculous. "i am 1 w the Force & the Force is w me. ;)" "....Chirrut, no."

Who’s the most creative when it comes to gifts?

Oh man. Chirrut probably. In that Baze's gifts are very obviously gifts and are normally romantic even if they don't look like it to an outsider. Baze crafts a new lightbow for Chirrut. This is 10/10 on the gift scale for Chirrut but someone who doesn't know them wouldn't know that. By the same dent, Baze loves finding books that someone made their way out of the temple, buying them off the black market and bringing them home to read to Chirrut. And then they're love poems because of course they are. And Baze keeps at least two of the pockets of his flightsuit full of things that Chirrut just LIKES so he can hand them over when Chirrut is restless or sad.

Chirrut's gifts are harder to see because a lot of time they inlcude making Baze laugh. Or putting him into ridiculous situations that he can scoff at because Baze secretly loves that. Like getting them locked up in an Imperarial prison for the night where they have to break themselves out. Baze is going to raise holy hell about Chirrut doing this, but he is also going to love every minute of it. Chirrut is not about material gifts for the most part because what in the universe could possibly be good enough for Baze plus Baze doesn't actually need things to be happy whereas Baze just LOVES finding things to make Chirrut happy. So together they manage to collect junk constantly and then have to purge and start all over again, which is also part of the fun.

Who gets up first in the morning?

Chirrut sleeps better and is likely to wake up first if Baze is asleep. If Baze is not asleep then he has probably been up most of the night and is not happy about it in the least.

Who suggests new things in bed?

Chirrut. Hands down.

Who cries at movies?

Baze. Baze is the giant teddy bear. We all know this already. Not that they watch a lot of movies, but when they do it's Baze who gets emotional about them while Chirrut is salty about bad plotting.

Who gives unprompted massages?

Chirrut. Chirrut is always, constantly, forever touching Baze and always has. Plus he knows that Baze carries all of his goddamn worry and stress in his body so it's imperative to work those kinks out.

Who gets jealous easiest?

I think Baze used to get hurt jealous and insecure jealous in that he didn't think he was good enough for Chirrut, but that's pretty much gone. At this point they both enjoy watching other people get flustered when Chirrut flirts with everything around them but, of course, Chirrut will only ever go home with Baze because Baze is home for him.

Who collects something unusual?

Baze collects shit for the both of them, but none of it is really all that unusual. Chirrut has a small cache of items from their boyhood that he retains, though almost all of it are things that used to be Baze's when he was a Guardian so it's a handful of beads and shells and bells that he used to braid into Baze's hair. Again. None of what they keep is unusual. Some of it is impractical but it makes sense.

Who gets most excited about the holidays?

Chirrut. Chirrut remembers every single holy day and wants to celebrate all of them. (If those celebrations constantly turn into things that would not be considered temple appropriate, it's not his fault that Baze is so handsome and desirable that he can't control himself.) Baze is grumbly about holidays after the temple fall and can be a mocking shit while Chirrut practices, but he still loves them because Chirrut loves them.

Who is the big spoon/little spoon?

Chirrut, as mentioned above, is everywhere on the bed at all times so it's not uncommon for him to wrap his entire body around Baze or just sleep on top of him. But a lot of the time they start out with Chirrut as the little spoon. If Baze is having a particularly bad day/night, he will concede to being the little spoon. They switch back and forth a lot just depending on circumstances and space.

Who starts the most arguments?

This one is easy because Chirrut is a menace. But also a lot of their arguments aren't really arguments because Baze thinks Chirrut being a menace is hilarious. Actual fights are rare and far between and normally boil down to who put themselves in the line of trouble first so it flipflops because they're both idiots.

Who suggests that they buy a pet?

No one SUGGESTS a pet, but Baze keeps bringing strays home. Cats, dogs, humans, random weird insects that Chirrut doesn't like to touch. Baze is a softie and cannot stand the idea of things wandering around without homes. Chirrut, however, feels very badly about the situation other people and creatures are in but also knows that they have to have priorities.

What couple traditions do they have?

Afternoon tea

Baze touching their foreheads together before they separate, which is a rare occurrence but sometimes necessary

Chirrut "blessing" all of Baze's armor and artillery by brushing his fingers over it each morning

"Honey, hold my flower" while the other fights until it becomes obvious that assistance is needed

Pretending that they are not ride or die

Bickering in front of new people to throw them off and make it harder for them to suss out their weak points because people can get uncomfortable in front of married banter

What other couple do they hang out with?

Baze prefer not to, thank you. Also the only other couples he really knows all consist of at least one of their adopted children, and he does not want to think about them doing couple things together. So they do not do couple hangouts. It's more like parents hanging out with their fifteen hundred Rebel children.

Who brings flowers home?

BAZE! Chirrut brings home weapons.I mean, Baze also brings home weapons, but he's the only one who brings home flower. Chirrut does then put said flowers in Baze's hair and beard because his hair is too short, but Baze is not allowed to grumble because he brought the flowers, after all.

Who does Baze talk to about relationship issues?

Baze is only really emotionally open with Chirrut. The trouble is that he will hold onto them for a bit until Chirrut prods them tf out of him. It might be better if he had someone else he could talk to about them. Sometimes he and Jyn will work out various emotional frustrations through non-emotional weapon practice together, which is sort of the same thing.

And who does Chirrut talk to?

Anyone who will listen? But the thing is that Chirrut is talking about made up ridiculous relationship issues because he has, by this point, come to realize that the thing that makes the most sense is if he just comes out and tells Baze what's wrong. Baze will either laugh and fix it or be sad and fix it or they will get into a bantering match with each other and fix it. They haven't had a really large relationship issue since Baze left, and Chirrut swore to himself to make changes in their communication after that and has been pretty good at keeping to them. But he especially likes to bother Cassian with his pretend issues because the captain just oozes discomfort and "please stop" but is too polite to say it.

How do they make up after an argument?

Either in the sweetest, most teeth decaying way ever or by slinging more of those mock insults at each other until they're both laughing too hard to continue and then the kissing starts. Or with an endless amount of comfort because Chirrut always knows what Baze needs.

#spiritassassin #headcanon accepted #otp: i don't need luck #otp: i am one with the Force #otp: i protected you

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