#why were the people who came up with these recipes not struck down before they could make it public

[readyplayerziggy]

"Snickers Salad"....Why?

[starlitangels]

Here. Have a ficlet while I’m still processing the Sovereign State season 1 finale 725 words

—

There he was. The moron. How he managed to wander so far off at the farmer’s market when I looked away for one damn second was beyond me. But his blond hair—gold in the sunlight—inability to sit still, and bouncy personality gave him away immediately. Even if he was somehow already halfway across the park.

The farmer’s market was his idea anyway. Why was he abandoning me around a bunch of strangers?

“Dammit, Guy,” I hissed. I excused myself as politely as I could from the stall selling gourds—that Guy had been the one wanting to look at while rambling about a great recipe involving banana squash he was gonna steal from his mom—and moving to weave through people to get over to him.

I caught glimpses of him over shoulders and around heads. And like a kid trying to doggy paddle to a beach ball floating away on the surface of a pool, he always seemed to be the same distance away from me. Flitting around to whatever caught his fancy.

Finally he slowed to a stop for longer at a stall selling handmade, homemade jewelry. A man about the same height as him—maybe an inch shorter—pulled up beside him and struck up a conversation. I edged carefully around two parents with a pair of strollers, losing sight of him for a moment. When he came back into view—

He was rigid—by his standards, anyway. His thumb was hitting his spinner ring on his forefinger hard, repeatedly. He was anxious.

I swore under my breath and pushed between two people who were in my way before jogging the rest of the way to the jewelry stall. I slowed to a walk. The kind that Guy would describe as stomp, probably.

I went right up behind Guy and glowered at the man who was talking to him. I was a few inches taller than Guy, and definitely taller than the man making him uncomfortable. I folded my arms. “This dude bothering you, babe?” I asked.

Guy whirled around, a broad smile immediately breaking out on his face. “Honey! We were just talking about you!” he exclaimed. I raised a brow and snorted.

“That right?” I asked, looking past his shoulder at the man. Challenging him to pick a fight if he dared, looking him directly in the eye.

I felt more than saw Guy lean closer to me.

The man grunted. “Said he has a partner who makes him happy,” he grumbled.

I smirked. “Damn right.” Even if I still can’t fathom how I make him happy, of all people.

With that, the creep turned and stalked off.

Once the dude was out of earshot and disappeared into the crowd, Guy sagged, wrapping his arms around me. “I am so glad you showed up. He was freaking me out.”

“I could tell,” I said, putting one of my arms around his shoulder. “Why do you think I always tell you not to wander off without me?”

His chest heaved against my side with how hard he was breathing. “Lesson learned.”

“Until you see the next shiny thing that catches your eye.”

He opened his mouth to protest, thought about it, and closed his mouth. I started laughing and bent down to kiss him. He eagerly met me. I kept it brief—we were in public—but I held his shoulders tight. Relieved he was okay. He was still clinging close to me too.

“You know no one gets to mess with you but me, right?” I whispered in his ear.

He sucked in a sharp breath and gave me that suggestive smirk of his. “Should we take this home?”

“In a bit. This was your idea, and I don’t want you complaining that you didn’t get to see everything.”

“Oh! Speaking of. Look at these!” He held up a little cardboard square with tiny holes punched out of it to thread earrings through. On it was a pair of silver ball studs where the earring fastener dangled below the earlobe with an enamel pepperoni pizza on the end of each hook. “Aren’t they cute?”

I chuckled. “You like them, don’t you?”

“Do you?”

“Doesn’t matter. I think if you like them, you should get them.”

His smile widened. “You’re the best, honey!” He popped a kiss to my cheek and turned to the couple running the stall.

[theladyofdeath]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 12}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Shelby's blogs! >> @snelbz​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

* In case you missed the announcement - we will now be posting chapters 3 days a week! Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. We hope you continue to enjoy the story! 

** Trigger warning: Miscarriage. 

This chapter is legit a roller coaster, ngl. Enjoy. ;)

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

Nesta stood in the living room of Elain’s house with Nyx on her hip, feeling guilty for dropping Nyx off for the night even though Elain was the one to offer. 

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Gives these little cousins some bonding time.” She reached out and took Nyx’s chubby little hand. “Besides, you and Cassian both need time to recoup.”

She wasn’t about to deny that. It had been a week since her not-date with Balthazar, a week since she and Cassian had uttered more than passing comments on how Nyx had acted throughout the day to each other.

Every time she looked at him, she found him already watching her and the fact got under her skin.

It became an unspoken thing that whenever she cooked dinner, she would make an extra helping and put it in the fridge for him. Not because she felt like she needed to, but because it made her feel better about their awkward arrangement. The longer time went on, the more she realized that as much as she’d been acting like taking care of Nyx together was a death sentence to her social life, he was going through the same thing.

And when she got home, she planned on making dinner for the two of them to share together. A sort of white flag of truce between them.

It was the least she could do. “Call me the second something happens-.”

“We’ll be fine,” Elain said, taking Nyx from Nesta and kissing her sister’s cheek. “Now, go. Relax. Take a bubble bath with some wine or something. Read one of those filthy books you used to hide in your closet.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed.

Elain’s smile widened.

After a tough goodbye, Nesta was heading toward her car and driving back home, making a quick stop at the grocery store just around the corner.

She quickly got all of her fixins, prepared to make one of her favorites - salmon, rice, and green beans. A glance at the calendar that morning told her he would probably be home around five, which gave her just under two hours to make dinner. Easily doable, she’d made three-course meals in less time, for much harsher customers.

Yet she couldn’t figure out why her stomach was in knots.

*

When Cassian came home, he opened the front door and froze. The quiet in the house unnerved him. Usually, there was some random white noise to fill the house, whether that was the television or one of Nyx’s inane toys that distracted him so well. But as he walked through the house, the TV wasn’t on and he couldn’t hear much of anything.

Until he heard a throat clear from the kitchen.

Instantly, Cassian was on alert, not liking the sound at all, recognizing who it had belonged to, but silently, he made his way into the kitchen.

Nesta was sitting at the table, a plate of food in front of her, with an identical one at the spot he typically sat in.

“What’s…going on?” He asked, slowly taking another few steps into the kitchen.

Nesta stood and grabbed a beer out of the fridge, before taking it back over to where he hovered between the table and the doorway. She held the cold bottle out to him. “This is a truce.”

“A tru-?” He took it, but shook his head, not quite understanding her. “Where’s Nyx?”

“He is having a sleepover with Seph, Elain and Azriel. Elain wanted us to have a night off,” she said, sitting back down at her seat. “So I made us dinner.”

“You made us dinner?” he repeated, staring at the plates. “For the two of us to have? Together? At the same table?”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, unless you don’t want it.”

Cassian cleared his throat as he pulled the chair out across from her and popped open his beer. “I won’t turn down free food. Especially when it’s made by an expert.” 

Nesta said nothing more as she cut into her salmon. “An expert?”

“You get paid for cooking,” Cassian said, picking up his fork and collecting a pile of green beans. “That makes you an expert. A professional.”

“This is a lot of compliments,” she said, watching him carefully as he ate.

“Maybe I’m jumping on board with this whole truce thing,” he said, mouth full of food.

Nesta wanted to chastise him about his manners, but bit her tongue. “You weren’t on board with it to begin with?”

He chewed slowly and then set his fork down. “Neither of us have…handled this very well,” he admitted, taking a drink from his beer. “And I’m willing to take a portion of the blame, but not all of it.”

Nesta weighed his words carefully. They were blunt, but not untrue. Sure, he’d acted like an ass many times, but she had only responded in kind. She knew she could be a bitch, and she knew she did it well. Sometimes too well.

“For this to be an official truce,” she began, holding her wine glass in her hand, swirling it once, twice, “there has to be terms we both agree on.” His eyebrows raised, but she pressed on before he could speak. “Mine are that we have to communicate. When you get frustrated or pissed at me, you can’t just bottle everything up until it all explodes. And when I get overwhelmed, I promise not to snap at you or act like such a…”

“A bitch?” He provided, when she stumbled over her words, smiling around the beer bottle pressed to his lips.

She wasn’t able to stop the smile growing on her own face, as she said, “Thank you, asshole. But yes. Those are my terms.”

He took a drink and nodded. “Okay. I think I can handle those.”

“And what are your terms?” She asked, cutting into the flaky fish for another bite.

He was quiet for a moment, debating. Nesta took a sip from her wine glass while she waited, watching as thought after thought passed across his face.

“I want to get to know you,” he said, finally. “I want to know who you are and I want you to know me.”

Nesta cocked her head to the side. It was a simple request, but Nesta wasn’t exactly good at allowing people to get to know rher. “And how do you suppose we do that?”

“A simple conversation will do,” he said, shrugging. “Over salmon and alcohol. Mostly alcohol.” He reached across the small table and picked up her wine bottle, filling up her wine glass to the brim. 

“Getting me drunk so that I open up?” Nesta asked, sipping from that wine glass.

Cassian chuckled. “I would never.”

She watched her for a second, before taking another larger drink and setting it down. “Fine. Then it’s a truce.” He smirked, glancing over the table between them and then leaned over to look on the counter. “What?”

“I’m just looking for an official notice.” His smirk grew into an all out grin. “Something to sign. I figured you’d called up Tarquin and had some official documents written up.”

“You think you’re so funny.” She rolled her eyes and he chuckled, reaching an open hand across the table.

“Truce,” he said, taking her hand in his. They shook once, and Cassian was struck by how much smaller her hand was than his, yet by how firm her grip was. It was an impressive, professional handshake.

“So what do you want to know?” She asked, scooping some rice onto her fork and getting a bite of fish to go along with it.

His eyes narrowed as he thought about it and she began to wonder whether they should have laid down some boundaries. But he asked, “You went to the University of Velaris, right? What did you study there?”

Nesta blinked in surprise, not having expected the question. “Business and marketing.”

Chewing slowly, Cassian raised an eyebrow. “Nothing culinary?”

She shook her head. “No, I liked cooking, but I never thought it would become my career. I majored in business and marketing, with a minor in communications.”

“That sounds…” He fought for the words for a second. “Boring.”

Taking a drink of her wine, Nesta chuckled. “Oh, it was,” she admitted. “The longest four years of my life, but I’ve got the pretty, little diploma with my name written on it to show for them.”

“And how did you learn about food? How to cook?”

She shrugged. “I taught myself. I graduated college and had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I got a data entry job at a marketing firm and spent my free time in the kitchen, trying and testing and tasting.” She paused, and her eyes fell to her plate. “Before my dad died, he listened to my idea about starting a small restaurant, with a few of my favorite recipes on the menu. He left me the money to do it in his will.”

“And now?” he pressed, although his voice held a certain gentleness. “Are you successful and thriving?”

Nesta snorted. “I make enough to live and pay the few of servers I have. If that’s successful, then I suppose.”

Cassian nodded in appreciation. “I’d say it is. What about the future? Bigger restaurant? Multiple restaurants?” 

“Someday,” Nesta said, with a longing in her voice. “And what about you? And your guitars? Surely you don’t want to be a bartender forever.”

Cassian shrugged. “I don’t mind the bartending. Good tips and I meet a lot of interesting people.”

“But?” Nesta asked. 

“But,” Cassian repeated, huffing a laugh. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t exactly say that managing a bar is my passion.” 

“So, guitars then?” Nesta asked, brow raised. “You’re really talented. Your guitars are beautiful.”

Cassian’s eyes shot to hers, wide as he slowly set down his fork. “Holy shit, did you just compliment me?”

Nesta’s lips pursed as she kicked his shin under the table.

“I’ve always been good with my hands. Not like that,” he said, pointing at her when he saw the smirk growing. “I mean, creating things, playing instruments, even something as mundane as making drinks. If it’s something I can do with my hands, I typically love it and nine times out of ten, I’m good at it.” There was none of the cockiness she’d come to know in his voice. Just pure explanation, and a bit of devotion. “I’ve tried my hand at making furniture and little knickknacks, but there’s nothing that compares to building an instrument from scratch.”

“And you do it all? Yourself?” She asked, taking another bite.

He nodded. “I start with a few rough pieces of wood. Sand it, stain it, and boom, brand new guitar.”

Snorting, she lifted her wine glass to her lips. “I think you may have missed a few steps in there.”

“Well, I didn’t want to bore you,” he chuckled.

“How long have you been playing guitar?” Nesta asked, finishing off the last of her food.

Cassian took a minute to think about it, then shrugged, finishing off his beer. “As long as I can remember. I grew up with my mom in Illyria. They live simply up there. Music is…a way of life. It grew on me quickly. Mom bought me my first guitar that a friend of hers had made before I could even walk.”

Nesta chuckled, quietly. “Just like you did for Nyx.”

Cassian nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. Another drink?” he asked, nodding toward her emptied glass.

“Sure,” she said. “But, wine is gone. I think there’s some tequila in the cabinet.”

Cassian lifted a brow as he rose. “Tequila?”

Nesta grinned as he went to the cabinet. “Make me a drink, bartender?”

Cassian laughed as he grabbed the glass bottle from the cabinet. “I can. What’ll it be? Tequila sunrise? Margarita? Pretty sure we have some lime juice, somewhere.”

“I’m not picky,” Nesta promised.

She heard him laugh. “Somehow, I have a hard time believing that, Archeron.”

“Only where it counts,” she replied, smiling at him. She picked up their empty plates and rinsed them off, loading them into the dishwasher. Turning, she found him setting a shot glass with salt on the rim down on the counter. She chuckled. “That’s not what I asked for.”

“First of all, you technically didn’t ask for anything in particular,” he said, pointing at her as he crossed the kitchen and opened the fridge. “Secondly, this is the most classic drink I can make you with tequila. It’s the oldest recipe in the books.”

She outright laughed. “That’s cause it’s just straight tequila.”

“Exactly,” he grinned and damn it, if her heart didn’t skip a beat. “I lied, no lime juice.”

“Fine,” she said, crossing her arms. “But if I’m doing sloppy shots, you’re joining me.”

“Oh, I never say no to shots,” he said, grabbing another from the cabinet. 

He filled them up, and slid one to Nesta, who took the glass in her hand and held it up.

Cassian clinked his against hers, and they tossed them back. 

Nesta’s face didn’t change a bit, and Cassian met her steady eyes. “Impressive.” 

“Not my first tequila shot, Nazari,” she said, hopping up to sit on the counter. “What else do you want to ask me?”

He leaned down on the countertop, letting his arms lay flat. “Hmm.” He let his fingers drum quietly. “What did you want to be when you grew up? Or was it always a chef?”

She scrunched up her nose. “I was convinced I was going to be a doctor, I wanted to help people. But then I found out how many years of school was required to be a doctor. So I decided I wanted to be a nurse.”

Cassian carefully poured a couple more shots. “And what happened to that dream?”

“I found out that the sight of blood makes me queasy. Sometimes I throw up, sometimes I pass out.”

He laughed. “That seems like enough to throw off a career plan.”

“Yep,” she admitted, picking her wine glass up.

Cassian filled up the shot glasses, once more, and slid hers back to her. She set down her wine glass and snorted as she tossed it back.

“You know what we should do?” Nesta asked, and Cassian lifted a brow in question. “Go for a swim. We’ve been here over a month and have yet to use the pool that I’ve been cleaning, daily.”

Cassian took his shot before watching her, closely. “Last one in has to share their deepest, darkest secret.”

Nesta scoffed. “What are we, children?”

Cassian grinned as he pushed himself back from the counter. “Scared of a little competition? Afraid to lose?”

They stared at each other in silence for a minute before Nesta jumped off the counter, and ran up the stairs to throw on her swimsuit.

Cassian and his heavy footsteps were close behind.

It took her a few minutes to remember where her swimsuits had been packed, and from the slamming of drawers down the hall, it seemed Cassian was in a similar predicament. She finally found a two piece stuffed in the back of her underwear drawer, not exactly what she had been looking for, and hesitated before stripping down and pulling the bottoms on. Nesta was out her bedroom door before she even had the top fully tied, pulling it into a hastily tied bow behind her back. Her feet carried her as she flew down the stairs, but she froze when she opened the sliding glass door and found him already in the water.

He grinned from where he had his muscular arms resting on the side of the pool, and his hair was soaked, pushed back off of his face. With the wide smile on his face, he looked so much younger, almost boyish.

With a sigh, Nesta turned and walked back into the kitchen, grabbing a couple beers in each hand and made her way back onto the lit up patio.

“I win,” he said, smirking up at her.

The tongue she stuck out at him wasn’t her most quick witted response, but she was trying not to let her eyes drift beneath the water. When she suggested the pool, she hadn’t been thinking of how much skin would be on display, for either of them.

“That’s because you only had one piece to put on,” Nesta said, sitting near him by the edge and handing him a drink.

“Hey, if you only wanted to put on one of those pieces, I wouldn’t have stopped you,” he protested, and Nesta had to hide the way his suggestive tone, those words, made her blush. 

He didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he popped open his beer and took a long, slow drink.

“So how about that secret?” He asked, voice lowering. 

“Hmmm,” she crooned, tapping her chin. “Which to share when I have so many to choose from?”

Cassian chuckled. “You would have an endless string of secrets. Come on, what skeletons are in your closet? Something you’ve never told anyone else.”

Nesta had a lot of those, too. She wasn’t exactly the “open” type.

There was one true secret she kept though. One that no one else had known, not even Feyre or Elain. Just her and…

She hesitated and he looked up at her, caught the look on her face. “What?”

Shaking her head, she said, “I don’t want to kill the mood.”

The hand holding the bottle was right next to her thigh, and he let his pinky skim over her skin. “That kind of secret, huh?”

She gnawed into her lip, nodding.

“I’ll tell you mine, if it helps,” Cassian said, looking up into her face.

She slipped into the pool, thankful the water was warm, and shook her head. “That wasn’t our agreement.”

He stayed quiet, letting her process her own thoughts.

Sinking beneath the water, Nesta re-emerged, slicking her hair back. After a steadying breath, she said, “I’m sure you remember Tomas, my ex who interrupted our date?”

The mention of their date surprised Cassian, after so many weeks of them dancing around it. He nodded.

“We were together for a long time, you know? All through college.” She wasn’t looking at him, wouldn’t meet his eye. “I got pregnant just after our senior year. I had never wanted kids, you know? Wasn't the family type, at all. Never saw myself having a family. Anyway,” she continued, shaking her head. “It didn’t matter. I miscarried.”

Cassian continued to look at her, continued to watch as she stared blankly ahead. 

“I got excited about it, too, which is ridiculous,” she went on. “For a moment, for those few weeks that I thought Tomas and I would be starting a family… I actually got excited.”

“How far along were you?” He asked, gently.

She answered immediately, with no hesitation. “Thirteen weeks. It was like one day I was pregnant, carrying our child and the next… The baby was gone.” She was quiet for a moment. “I woke up one morning and there was blood, so much blood. Tom was already at work, so I drove myself to the hospital, but there was nothing they could do.”

Cassian recognized the slow blinking, knew she was reliving those slow, sad moments again.

“I was dying inside, trying to come to terms with the fact that our baby was gone, and Tomas got home and-.” She took a deep breath and looked over at him. “He asked what I was making for dinner. He didn’t even acknowledge that our child was gone and… l guess that’s when I decided to do the same. To pretend nothing happened. We didn’t really talk much about it. We never told our families, I never told Feyre or Elain. Our father died about a month later and it all seemed so insignificant at that point. But Tom and I never recovered, our relationship at least. We broke up a few months later and…” Nesta shrugged. “Life kept going. I decided to open my restaurant and never looked back.”

“I’m sorry,” Cassian said, quietly.

She finally looked at him and shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t make it any less painful of a memory,” he countered.

She just nodded. “It’s how it was supposed to be though, right? Wasn't meant to be.”

Cassian took another drink as he nodded, slowly.

“Anyway,” she began, clearing her throat before dunking herself back down under the water.

“Would you like my secret?” He asked, when she turned and rested her arms on the edge of the pool.

She shrugged. “If you feel so inclined. You didn’t lose the bet.”

He leaned back, letting his arms drape across the edge of the pool as well. “When I was eighteen, I broke my back. I decided to take a year off before I started school, and was working construction over the summer to save money. I wanted to travel for a while. But then I took a bad fall off a roof. I spent two weeks in the hospital and then was stuck in my bed for another ten. And Rhys and Az stayed by my side the whole time. They put off their last hoorah vacations before they went off to college to stay with me.”

Nesta’s eyes drifted to Cassian, drops falling from her lashes. “Doesn’t seem like a secret if people know about it.” 

“You didn’t know,” he shot back.

Nesta smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Fair. That sounds awful.”

“It was,” he agreed. “I don’t know if you know this about me, but I don’t like to stay still for very long.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” Nesta said, a little spark returning to her eye. “It was torture,” he followed, finishing off his drink. “Not being able to move. I played so many damn board games that I never want to look at one ever again.”

“Even if Nyx asks?” Nesta inquired.

Cassian gave her a lopsided grin. “Well, he’s the exception.” Nesta laughed, and Cassian shook his head. “I’d do anything for that kid. I think Rhys knew that, when he named me godfather.”

She understood that, related to it completely. Especially considering they had been named godparents together, regardless of their mutual distaste for the other. Their love for Nyx, for Rhys and Feyre, had been evident to everyone.

“I miss him,” she admitted, resting her cheek on the concrete. “I know it’s only one night, and I’m beyond appreciative, but… It’s weird not having him right inside.”

He nodded. “I get it. I do, too. I know Az and Elain can take care of him, and I’m sure he had a blast with Seph before they went to bed, but it hasn’t stopped me worrying about him.”

Nesta nodded, stretching her back. She took a drink from her beer. “Did you ever want kids of your own?”

He blew out a harsh breath and drained his own bottle before answering. “I never really considered it much, when I was younger. After my back healed, I was so focused on getting back to life that relationships and dating weren’t high on my priority list-.”

“But fucking was?” Nesta asked, smirking.

He rolled his eyes, nudging her slightly with a shoulder. “Maybe I was interested in sex more than relationships, I’ll admit. But before I knew it, my early twenties had come and gone. Everyone I knew was getting married and had babies on the way and… I was still the one living the bachelor life and decided to just run with it.”

“I get that,” Nesta agreed. “After…everything that happened with Tomas, I never wanted that again. My date with you and my date with Balthazar are the only two proper dates I’ve been on since college.”

Cassian lifted a brow. “And have you been on any improper dates?”

Nesta didn’t answer. Instead, her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink as she finished off her beer.

Cassian’s grin widened. “I never knew you were such a freak, Archeron.”

“Oh, fuck off,” she muttered, which just made him laugh harder. 

“I must admit, it’s nice to hear you talking about our infamous date so often tonight,” Cassian said, pulling himself out of the pool.

Nesta couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles flexed, how the drops of water streamed down his back, between his shoulders, down to his waistline and the swim trunks, which rode low on his hips. She cleared her throat. “I didn’t say anything nice about that date, did I?”

“Absolutely not, but is there really anything nice to say?” he asked, sliding the screen door open. “I mean, you were an absolute nightmare.”

She gawked after him as he went inside, and once he came back with a small pyramid of beer cans, Nesta said, “I was a nightmare? You were a complete disaster!”

He scoffed, setting the cans down and cannon balling back into the pool. Even though she was already in the water, Nesta couldn’t help the squeal that left her. Cassian was grinning when he came up for air. “I forgot my wallet. I fully intended to pay you back, both monetarily and with the best sex you’d ever had in your life, but you decided to get huffy, stomp back to your front door and slam it in my face.”

“Oh, please,” Nesta said, reaching for a can and popping it’s top. Foam erupted from the opening and she put her mouth to it before it could drip into the pool. “You were over twenty minutes late, you wore work boots and a leather jacket to the nicest restaurant in Velaris, and we ran into your fuck buddy.” She drank deeply from the can, emptying it in one go. “As for the best sex I’ve ever had in my life, I’ve become very accustomed to and am just fine with my own hand, so you’re going to have to try pretty hard to do better than I myself can.”

She wiggled her fingers in his face and before she could register what was happening, his hand was wrapped around her own. As if he didn’t already know that. Cassian had caught her getting herself off in the bathtub, a memory that was seared into both of their heads. He tugged her closer and the empty can fell from her hands, floating on top of the water.

“I was talking about the past, sweetheart, but you seem to be talking about the present,” he breathed as her chest brushed against his own. “Who says my offer still stands all these years later?”

“You’d be a fool not to make that offer,” she breathed, and she knew the scent of beer was all he was breathing in. 

“And would you accept it if I were?” he asked, one hand still wrapped around hers, the other snaking its way around her waist. “Still offering?” 

Nesta’s breath hitched as their mouths grew so close, too close, close enough to reach out and taste his lips with a brush of her tongue.

It was tempting.

It would be stupid. Alcohol fogging her brain or not, Nesta knew it would be stupid.

But it was tempting, and in that moment, there were very few things Nesta could think about other than his hands against her skin, his lips a breadth width away from her own, and his cock she could very prominently feel twitching against her thigh. 

Nesta’s lips brushed softly against his as she said, “Try and find out.” 

[reidjumpers]

silver platter

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warning/Includes: none! Spencer being happy

Summary: Spencer meeting your family for the first time

Note: this idea pop up out of nowhere. he is truly every in law's dream dare i say.

There was a line of dust flour across your face, Spencer noticed. There was laughter and pure happiness hanging in the air. It made him both fuzzy and dizzy, an odd combination that he couldn’t really tell why it was there in the first place.

When you had told him that your parents invited him to join your family gathering, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to go. He had met your parents two times in total throughout his life before, once as a federal agent and a coworker and once as a good friend of yours. It would be his third now, and for most, they wouldn’t be as nervous as he would be when the prospect popped up for the third time.

But this time, he would face your parents as a man who loved you with all of his heart, a man who proudly called himself your boyfriend over and over.

You had warned him this morning that while he had met your parents twice, he hadn’t met the rest of your extended family before. A harmless warning that you had come from a big family with aunts who love to pester new people with a bunch of questions and cousins who love to poke some fun here and there. You had warned him, with the most serious look you could muster that did nothing to him but made him want to laugh at the way you tiptoe to make yourself look taller, nose scrunched adorably, that while your family are good, they could be draining.

Spencer had just smiled. Placing a chaste kiss to your forehead in order to mask his own unnerving nervousness brewing at the pit of his stomach. It was endearing that when it should be him who worried about this whole ordeal of meeting your whole extended family for the first time, it was you who took all the downfall and stressing out about his own comfort. He kissed you again, to reassure you that it would be fine, while gently tucking away his own worry so you don’t have to worry about anything else.

His worry and nervousness almost immediately melted away when he entered your parents’ threshold. Your mother smiled and lit up brighter than a Christmas tree when she spotted you hand-in-hand with him. Spencer’s eyes widened in both surprise and delight as your mother embraced him like he was one of her own, welcoming you and ushered you both inside.

It was hard for his nervousness or any unpleasant feeling to grow inside. All of them are lovely people who had loved you twice as much, and consequently, had extended their love for him too with a wide welcoming arm. It was hard for him not to fall into the warmth of a familial love when he saw you surrounded by it, a bright smile on your face as you reminisced childhood stories with your cousins, or letting out defensive screeches when your mother pulled out an old photo album.

You were such a cute kid, he thought, and an even cuter adult now.

He found himself bombarded with innocents, endearing questions from your aunts. It was hard for him not to smile and laugh, as they ask about his favorite food and insist on knowing his input on their cooking. He found himself cackling at the game of wild play tag your nieces and nephews conduct, engaged in a really competitive monopoly game with your cousins, and had a nice small talk with your siblings. It made him crave to have a family of his own.

From the corner of his eyes, he caught you smiling at him as he sat in the middle of the living room. Your nieces and nephews surrounded him like he was the center of the universe, eyes wide with anticipation and excitement as he hung his magic trick in the air. A loud, excited squeal broke as he pulled a string of cards from behind your niece’s ear, and a loud clap and booming laughter coming from the adults made his heart swell.

When he sat and watched you moving around the kitchen with your sister and your cousins, talking animatedly and eagerly about trying a recipe you had always wanted to try, he wondered why he had to be worried in the first place. He sat down at the kitchen counter, tried his best to ignore the whiff smell of freshly baked cookies waiting to cool off in the counter and barely registering your brother slipped into the empty seat next to him, when he was so busy thinking that he was sitting there as no one but a boy who loved you with all of his heart.

When the day finally set and the night slowly came, the excitement had worn out a little bit. The little kids now had ushered into empty rooms, asleep, and tired from running around for the whole day. He found himself sitting in the living room with your father pressing a drink into his hand.

Spencer glanced into the brandy on his hand, bracing himself for the stern talk coming from your father. He remembered Morgan had mentioned it once to him in a teasing manner when he revealed he’d visited your family for the weekend that some fathers are protective and unkind to boyfriends.

“I’m glad that Y/N is coming with you,” your father instead started the conversation with an easy opening like that. Spencer glanced up from his drink with a barely concealed surprise, didn’t expecting such a statement coming when he had been preparing himself for another.

Spencer took a small sip into his drink to ground himself. “It’s honestly an honor that you invited me.”

Your father smiled. He remembered him as a really good man, although barely talked to strangers, but he didn’t make himself look unwelcome or cold to him when he first met him. You had mentioned to him that it took a while for him to warm up to new people, and Spencer couldn’t blame him for the fact that he did take his time too.

“You’re a really good man, Spencer. And if my child were to date any man, I am glad that it’s you.”

Spencer took a sharp breath, gently fiddled with his glass to calm down his erratic heart. Your father had just handed him his approval like it was nothing. A big trust and honor that most probably would work their ass off to have, handed to him on a silver platter.

“I promise I’ll protect Y/N with all my life, Sir.”

“You know Y/N doesn’t need a protection,” your father cocked an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Y/N has always been a fierce and strong child who can handle themselves. If anything, they just need a reminder not to carry the burden of the world alone. You just have to convince them to share the weight with you.”

He nodded, agreeing. Then the conversation flowed like a river after that. He talked about his mother and your father talked about his job and some wild stories coming from it. You emerged from the kitchen fifteen minutes into the conversation, blinking when you spotted him laughing together in an easy conversation with your father, and smiled.

The clock had struck midnight when he found himself laying on your childhood bed in your old room, staring into the ceiling littered with constellation stickers that were haphazardly put. It had been a long day and the exhaustion from the day slowly catching up to him.

“Hey,” you said, whispering as you nuzzled closer to him. There was a line of dust flour across your face, Spencer noticed. And you smelled like cinnamon.

“Hi,” he whispered, shifting closer to you. Although the day had been well-spent in his humble opinion, he couldn’t help but to notice he was mostly away from you and now he is aching to be with you.

And bless your heart, you understand him without a word needed to be said. You moved yourself close to him, hand easily snaking around his torso as your head found its way to the crook his neck. “How was your day?”

“Lovely,” Spencer answered quickly. “I teach Lily some of my magic tricks.”

You huffed at the mention of your niece, frowning at the fact he was so deliberately sharing his magic trick he guarded from anyone but your niece, apparently. Spencer ducked down to kiss your forehead, smiling when you drew a half-hearted pattern on his chest.

“What were you talking about with dad, by the way?”

Spencer’s mind flew to the conversation that he had earlier, his mind replayed the conversation over and over. He smiled as he pulled you closer to him, squeezing your figure slightly. “Nothing. Just an honor handed to me on a silver platter.”

[fatefulfaerie]

A Precious Find

A Happy August Birthday to @v1ser1on! I hope you like it! 

It seemed like just a few months ago.

It was a sorry excuse for Link’s forgetfulness, but it was true. The fact that an entire year had passed since the two reunited in Hyrule field was something Link hadn’t even considered until Beedle said it, Link’s mouth gaping and his face looking as if all the blood had been drained from it.

“Crazy that it’s been whole year since the castle was all cursed, huh?”

Yes, it was crazy. It was beyond crazy that Link and his love had enjoyed an entire year of peace, real, true peace. It seemed like a lifetime and a couple weeks all at once.

“Why, all my life the castle has been off limits.” Beedle didn’t seem to notice that Link was gazing into the distance, panic slowly rising near his ribcage. Link wasn’t sure if the pinging panic originated from his heart or his lungs. “Now it’s a treasure trove of riches that has boosted the economy full-throttle.”

Anniversary.

Their first anniversary and Link had to be across the land at the Rito stable. He came here to visit with the Rito elder, to go through the new trade routes and treaties that the former princess had laid out for him, herself absolutely having to stay behind and study the growth of a new variant of flora she had named after her father.

Did she know when she sent Link off that their anniversary was approaching, that in a few days time it would have been a year since they met lips and reacquainted breaths? Was she heartbroken?

“Beedle.”

It wasn’t until Link suddenly said the name of the traveling merchant that Link realized Beedle had kept talking. About what, Link had no idea. He almost felt guilty, but the deed was done.

“What do you have for sale today?”

Beedle’s expression changed to pure joy, pulling out his portable shelf and laying on top of it a few different items, some rushrooms, a few dead lizards, and a bundle of bomb arrows. Link pursed his lips and worry struck his heart like a bolt of lightning.

“Do you have anything more…” Link wasn’t sure how to word it without wearing his heart on his sleeve. “Precious?”

His relationship with the former princess of Hyrule was no secret, but he wasn’t ready to show the world how red his cheeks could get when thinking about her, wasn’t ready to be teased about something so important to him. He tried his best to keep his stoic stance, as if he were buying a standard bundle of arrows and not looking for something that was even a small fraction of her beauty.

“I do! As a matter of fact,” Beedle said, Link breathing a sigh of relief as Beedle took away the first three items and began to rummage into the depths of his pack. However, the first thing erased Link’s hope completely. It pulsed with red veins and Link was fairly certain that it was one of the five Lynel guts that Link had sold him over a year ago. Beedle placed it down on his portable shelf as if it were the rarest crystal. Although she might have taken some delight in researching it, he remembering her dissecting one not a month ago. It was nothing new and nothing special.

“Hard to find these anymore,” Beedle said, attempting to make the sale. “There haven’t been any Lynels in this land ever since the castle was accessible but you’ll find that these guts are a valuable commodity not only in brewing potent potions but also in exotic recipes. Why, I hear that the Gerudo even—”

“Beedle, I hate to interrupt you again, but when I said precious, I…”

Link hesitated. He leaned in closer.

“I kind of meant something one might give to a young lady,” Link said quietly. 

Something that might impress a former princess, who once had access to the finest jewels and all the guardian parts she could have ever wanted.

“Oh!” Beedle exclaimed, putting the Lynel guts away and this time really looking in his gargantuan pack. “I had no idea!”

Half of his body was in the bag by the time he finally said “Aha!”. 

“I didn’t think I would ever sell this,” Beedle said as he pulled out a necklace with a gold chain that eventually looped around a very small charm, a unique gem that Link had never before encountered. The sunset-pink hue matched no rupee, no ore, only matching the pastel shade of her cheeks when Link made her blush. Link’s fingertips grazed the jewel gently, marveling at how it caught the light.

“Unfortunately the apocalypse isn’t the best market for jewels,” Beedle explained. “People want to sell them, not buy them. When resources are scarce, a necklace just doesn’t measure up to a loaf of bread or a bundle of arrows. Perhaps selling this means that people have started to live again.”

“How much?” Link said weakly, the thought of giving it to his beloved overwhelming his otherwise serious nature.

“Three thousand,” Beedle said, Link looking up quickly with what Beedle thought was shock at such a high, high price. “I’m sorry but even diamonds are less rare than the rose quartz. My bet is that they were mined dry a long time ago. Someone like me finding it was just a streak of luck.”

Link shook his head.

“No, no,” he said. “There’s no need to apologize. The price is more than reasonable, I…I have enough rupees, it…it’s just so perfect.”

Beedle’s smile was more genuine than Link had ever seen it, although it did grow when Link handed him the rupees.

“What’s her name?” Beedle asked, handing over the precious necklace, that shimmered in the sunlight.

Link blushed at the thought, and the name he spoke in that moment was the one of the young lady that he rushed to afterwards, racing to the nearest shrine and hurrying back home to Hateno.

“Zelda.”

[blu-joons]

He Forgets Date Night ~ Kim Yugyeom

Your body failed to react when you finally heard the passcode to your apartment be typed in. You could hear Yugyeom’s footsteps walk through before he appeared in the room, noticing just how silent the place was.

It almost felt as if he was the only one home as he walked through, only as he reached the living room and noticed the blown-out candles and cold meal that was left on the dining room table, did he remember what date the night was.

And then his eyes fell on you, staring absentmindedly out of the window, refusing to acknowledge his presence that came closer to your side, letting go of a regretful sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, taking a seat in the chair beside you. “Rehearsals ran over, and I completely forgot that we organised our date night for tonight jagi.”

“It’s alright for you, you can get out of the house Yugyeom. I was relying on tonight to try and get a bit of normality back,” you frowned, unable to look across at him and meet his eyes.

You’d been stuck indoors for weeks, working from home, barely able to get any fresh air, and tonight was the first reality you’d experience for quite some time. “I never intended to forget.”

“But you did Yugyeom, you forget a lot about me recently.”

“That’s ridiculous, we’ve been here with each other for weeks, how can I forget about you?”

After signing with his new company and getting the all clear to start returning to work, it almost felt as if you’d been left behind, not just for work, but in your relationship too.

“You knew how important tonight was to me, it’s the one thing that I asked from you, and you just couldn’t deliver. It feels like a habit of yours recently to just forget about me.”

His head shook as he brushed his hands through his dishevelled hair, trying to keep himself calm. “I can’t believe what you’re insinuating Y/N, it’s one date night. We could always do it another time when I’ve got more time.”

“And when is that? At what point do you start having time for me?”

You finally brought your eyes across to look at him, quickly drawn to the heavy rise and fall of his chest. “I’ve had time for you for years. I’ve made one mistake Y/N and you’re treating me like I’m a terrible boyfriend.”

It might have been one mistake for Yugyeom, but for you, this was just another note to an endless list of things he’d recently forgotten. One too many times he’d messed up or forgotten and you were beginning to struggle to know how to cope. You loved him, but you were quickly starting to question how much he loved the two of you.

You sighed softly, trying to keep yourself just as calm as he was. “I’ve been here for two hours Yugyeom, that’s how long you let me down for tonight.”

“I’ve said I’m sorry, I don’t know what else you want me to do Y/N. It’s two hours that we can make up another time, it’s not exactly like it’s the end of the world.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” you pointed out to him, “it’s two hours that I’d been looking forward to for weeks, but your life is just too hectic without me to appreciate just how much all of this meant to me. Because it feels like you just don’t appreciate me anymore.”

His eyes widened as you stood up from the chair and made your way through the apartment and into your bedroom. Yugyeom let go of a groan before standing up and following you, refusing to let you drop this after so much had already been said.

“I’ve said I’m sorry,” he cried out yet again, following you across to the bed and sitting down beside you. “I hate that you think I’m unappreciative of you because I am. You mean the world to me, and I hate that I’ve let you down tonight, and any other night too. I’ve not forgotten you, or us, at any point in my life.”

“Then how do you explain tonight?” You asked, glancing across at him with a light shrug of your shoulders. “You can’t say you’ve not forgotten about me Yugyeom.”

His shoulders finally dropped as the realisation struck him about just how hurt you’d been throughout all of this. “If it counts for anything, the place looks nice, you did a good job.”

You bit down on your bottom lip as Yugyeom’s arm stretched out and wrapped around your shoulders, slowly encouraging you to move closely into his chest where he could hold you.

“Let me at least try and salvage some of the night. Let me order us some food, it’s the least I can do, and you need to make sure that you eat and take care of yourself.”

“I’d rather just forget about tonight.”

His head shook, pressing his lips against the top of your head. “It’s been a bad night, but we can’t just forget about it. If you’ve not eaten, then I’m going to fix it. Plus, I already know what your favourite is, so I can order it no matter how much you protest.”

“I’m impressed you can actually remember something about me.”

His hand gently poked against your hip as the first hints of a smile appeared on your face. “I do pay attention to you, even though you probably think that I don’t.”

Your head shook as you settled further into him. “I know you pay attention, there’s only man who could ever remember how fussy my takeout order is.”

“I prefer to think of it as you just knowing what you want, it makes me feel more important too.”

Your eyes watched on as he pulled his phone from the back pocket of his trousers, opening up the takeout menu and scrolling through. Knowing you had a close eye on him, Yugyeom was determined to make sure that he got your order spot on, relieved when he heard you chuckle once he’d done it.

“It might not be the date night you had in mind, but we can at least try and enjoy a bit of the time we have together tonight, even if it’s not as long as you hoped.”

As angry as you were with him, your life had been far too lonely for too long to add Yugyeom to the list of people you weren’t able to talk to.

“Takeout will probably taste better than what I cooked anyway,” you admitted, “I don’t really think I followed the recipe right to be honest.”

“You’ve never cooked anything edible for me so far, so why change a habit now?”

Your eyes shot across at him, shaking your head at the wide smile on his face. “When you can cook a good meal, you can own a place to lecture me about my cooking. You might even be worse than me when it comes to cooking, you’re terrible.”

“Then let’s make a promise,” he chuckled, “from now on, date nights are only with takeout, before we end up burning apartment down.”

“Now that, is definitely a promise that I can keep.”

---

Masterlist

[ipuckwithhockey]

The Perception of Stress Baking- M. Tkachuk

a/n: it’s so like me to say that i’m putting this blog on hold and then two days later write a completely self indulgent matthew tkachuk story. it’s short and fluffy, and again, completely self indulgent. 

warnings: none

You met Matthew a few months ago. He came into the coffee shop where you work between classes. The interaction was simple and short, but when he continued to frequent the shop during your shifts and started hanging around a little longer at the counter, you started to take notice.

You of course knew who he was, you could spot that ratty forward from the Calgary Flames a mile away. What you didn’t expect, was that he’d be so nice. He would stand by the counter if it wasn’t busy asking you about the books you were studying and how to make different drinks on the menu. He was funny and sweet and his visits to the shop soon turned into coffee dates after your shifts. It took him a month to ask you for your number and another week to ask you on your first official date.

Matthew was busy with hockey and you were engulfed in your senior year, so your time spent together was sometimes slim. Either way, you found yourself liking him more and more as you got to know him. You both had an affinity towards staying in and getting takeout. You would switch off picking a movie or a show to watch.

You liked him. A lot. But you still hadn’t totally opened up to him. He was a big shot hockey player, and you were just trying to finish your degree before trying to find a job in the real world. You weren’t ready to let him see all the sides of you, but really you just didn’t want to scare him away too soon.

All of this brings you to where you are now. Standing in your kitchen with piles of chocolate chip cookies next to you and a new brownie recipe staring you in the face. You were mid semester and that meant exams were coming up. It just so happens that your most common coping mechanism for stress was baking. You had reached your breaking point in studying a few hours ago and proceeded to find solace in your kitchen.

Matthew had been texting you off and on for the past few days, wishing you luck on your exams and asking if you needed anything. It was so sweet, but you really didn’t want him to see you like this. You haven’t showered in a few days and you were sure that the bags under your eyes wouldn’t be easy to conceal. When you finally hit your breaking point, it culminated in a tear-filled meltdown. You knew that if you called him, he would have come over, but you didn’t want to put that on him; you didn’t want him to see you with tear-stained cheeks because of a stupid exam.

So, you chose to bake.

Three hours, dozens of cookies, and a brownie recipe later, you hear a knock at your door.

You weren’t expecting company, and your roommate was locked away in her own room studying. Then, through the peephole, you saw a curly headed boy in a bright red sweatshirt.

You sigh, and open the door, revealing your flour covered hair, and exhausted body.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” You ask, but he’s already walked through the threshold and is moving toward the kitchen.

“Your whole floor smells like baked goods… Holy shit. That’s a lot of cookies.”

Then he turns and seems to take in your appearance. His eyes soften just a bit, and it’s like he knows exactly what’s going on. He knew you were stressed from studying, which is why he came over, but he didn’t necessarily peg you as a stress baker. Either way, his next question surprised you.

“So, what are we making?” Matthew smiles and moves around the island to where you were standing just moments ago. He’s looking at the mixing bowl and picks up the recipe card to examine it.

“I don’t consider myself a good cook, let alone a baker, but if you tell me what to do, I’ll try my best.” He didn’t ask you what was going on, or even if you wanted to talk about it. He didn’t pry or judge.  He had caught on enough in the months that he’s known you, to know that you just wanted to bake through it and then, when you were ready, you would be willing to talk.

It struck you that over the last few months he had caught on to more than you thought. He knew you better than you gave him credit for. Matthew Tkachuk was surprisingly perceptive. It must be how he gets under peoples skin so easily, you think.  

There is now a smile on your face for what feels like the first time in days and just can’t resist, so you make your way over to where he stands and give him a quick kiss before explaining the recipe.

Later that night, after the batches of brownies have been cooled, you return to your studying. Matthew offered to clean up the kitchen, and when he is done, he plops down on the couch beside you.

He looks at you intently and you think that maybe he’s decided he can’t handle a girl who stress bakes dozens of cookies at a time. What he says instead surprises you, “so, the boys keep asking me why I’m in such a good mood all the time and why I’m never around. They want to meet you… If you’re up for it.”

It’s cute how nervous he is and it’s even cuter that he’s been in a good mood because of you. He thinks you might just say no, and maybe before tonight you would have been hesitant, but now? Now you can say yes without hesitation.

“I just hope they like me.”

“Maybe bring some of those brownies with you. Those will definitely help.”  

[scarlett-hamiltonf1]

could you do a pierre gasly one where you fight in front of some other drivers and it’s kinda awkward but then you make up? Xx

*Unedited*

So, when you have two people with demanding careers having a relationship can be hard. Being in the same field makes it even harder. Now, try being to Formula 1 driver in a relationship. It's a recipe for disaster.

Everyone knows about the 2019 drama with Redbull Racing. You were a driver for

So, when you have two people with demanding careers having a relationship can be hard. Being in the same field makes it even harder. Now, try being to Formula 1 driver in a relationship. It's recipe for disaster.

Everyone knows about the 2019 drama with Redbull Racing. You were Kimi's replacement in 2017 (pretend he took a few years off before Alfa Romeo). Driving for Ferrari was the dream, but you were a Redbull girl at heart. You drove with Max at Toro Rosso at the same age before moving to your respective teams. You also happened to have two WDC under your belt from 2017 and 2018. With you, Max, and Lewis in a head-to-head race for the 2019 Championship you made the biggest switch of your life.

Christian Horner came a talked to you about switching to Redbull you thought why not and signed the agreement. Charles would take your place and you would take Pierre's who also happened to be your long-time boyfriend.

"Y/N!" Max exclaimed as you walked into the Redbull garage a few minutes after the announcement.

You had already talked with Sebastian who was over the moon for you, being that he was a former Redbull driver himself.

"You're going to be my partner in crime!" he exclaimed.

I smiled as he hugged me tightly.

"Might as well get married while you're at it!" Pierre muttered as he walked past.

"Is there a problem Gasly?" Max snapped, but I patted him on the shoulder before following Pierre.

"How could you?" Pierre whispered. "You betrayed me, by coming here!"

You rolled your eyes. "God damn it, Pierre, that's life. If you could've handled driving next to Max why are you being kicked out from the team then?" I yelled. "They picked me because Max and I started our careers together and we know how to handle each other."

Pierre huffed. "So now you're calling me a bad driver?"

"No! I said you couldn't handle being second to Max. Many people couldn't handle that, because believe it or not Max is insufferable, but he's my insufferable friend."

"You say that like he's your boyfriend."

You let out a loud groan. "Well at the moment he's better than my own boyfriend who's tearing me down for living my dream. At least Max is happy that I'm at Redbull!"

"Yeah, but I'm you're boyfriend and you betrayed me!" Pierre yelled. "I hope you have a horrible accident today in the race."

"You would rather have me dead than see me live my dream," I whispered as tears started to gather in my eyes.

"A nice and firery accident like the place you're going to." he spat before storming off.

You turned around to see pretty much the whole grid staring at me in shock. You just shrugged before Max led me into the Redbull garage. My body started shaking as tears rolled down my face violently.

That hurt like a bitch. Pierre's words struck you down to the very depths of your soul like a sword had pierced through your heart.

Soon you were in your Redbull speeding around the track in an intense battle for first with Lewis as you lapped George Russell who at that moment spun into your car.

The car flipped in the air, as you screamed loudly not being able to comprehend anything besides the fact you were not crawling out of the car and lying on the gravel.

Surprisingly you weren't in any pain just extremely shocked, when suddenly you felt someone pull you back before there was a loud bang and you watched as your beloved car aka Zephry blew up before your eyes.

"Are you okay?" the medics questioned as they gave you a check-up.

"yes, yes of course!" You chuckled and waved to the helicopter with the camera to prove it.

By the time you were released from medical, the race was over and Lewis won. Yet, he handed you his trophy as he knew you would've won if it wasn't for the accident. George ran up to you, but you quickly brushed it off and told him nothing to worry about.

Last but not least, Pierre walked up to you as you walked back from the podium with a distressed look on his face. The tension and awkwardness could be cut with a knife.

"Strawberry ice cream and milk chocolate." You stated with a smirk. "And never wish for me to die again."

Pierre smiled softly at you, "Yes ma'am."

It wasn't the most conventional way to make up, but it worked for both of you. After finishing third in the standing above Max and Pierre managed to wow the F1 world, he proposed in Abu Dhabi. Life was just as it should be, and everyone had their fairytale ending.

[kurohoely]

always (daichi x y/n)

part 2

genre: exes to lovers, slow burn(?) idk how genre works, sfw, daichi!timeskip

wc: 1.2k

a/n: thank you everyone for liking always part 1 TwT i almost cried seeing so many daichi stans reading and liking it. one more part to go! enjoy :D likes and reblogs are highly appreciated :))

part one , part two , part three

Small tears formed in the corner of your eyes. Such a sweet sentiment from someone that you only saw twice a week. There are still good things in this world. It’s always the small things that make people going. You flipped open your computer but then noticed her packing her stuff.

“Ah, Kaori-san. Are you going back home?”

“Yes, y/n-san. I got my work finished early today so I’m heading out. Do you still have a lot of work to do?”

“I’m just gonna finish everything today so I can leave early on Friday. Have a safe trip back home”

And you did stay here, rigorously typing the report and finishing the final touches of your presentation tomorrow. You glanced at the clock, it’s already 9 huh. Just one last push before you get that sweet, sweet week off. You pressed save and backed up everything, turning off your computer. You gather your stuff and start heading down, home. It looks like you were the only one left in the building, with only a few guards and janitors roaming around the halls. As you were about to pass through the auto gates, you noticed the same figure you saw when you took a break. Your breath hitched, pulse drumming inside your veins. It was almost like you forgot how to breathe. You stood at the gate for a while since he hasn’t noticed your presence just yet, gathering your scattered courage. You want to get out, away from him before your body follows what your heart wants. But before your body could even follow your mind, Daichi moved first, picking up the pace as he walked to you, as if he heard what your heart wanted.

“Hey y/n”

“Hey Sawamura, are you looking for someone?”

It pains Daichi that you used his last name. You made it very clear to him that whatever you both had was over, just how he wanted but somehow, it didn't feel right. After these months being away and not having you by his side felt so foreign, it was as if he was a void, an empty shell. His emotions went numb. He relies on his brain to function, keeping him alive but beyond that, he shuts off. Everything went stagnant, stale. Now, you’re in front of him again but he couldn’t reach you. He wants you. He needs you. He wants to fix whatever it is between you and he knows he has to do it now. He fumbled his fingers before speaking up again, shifting his gaze straight into your eyes. You felt a loud thump in your heart.

“Umm no, actually... I was waiting for you”

“Why? Did I leave anything at your place?”

“No! You didn’t unfortunately… I just wanted to come by and see… you know, how you're doing and… stuff…”

“That's nice Sawamura but I think you should focus on your girl now. Don't want her to think we’re up to something. I gotta go now, it's been a long night.”

“Yeah, it's pretty late already. Are you okay with me accompanying you back home?”

“It's okay Sawamura. Drive safely okay?”

You walked past him, towards the parking lot. Why? Why are you still the sweet person you are, just as how he remembers it? Your warmth was like the morning sun, embracing him at his most vulnerable state. Home. He wants to pull your figure into his embrace, flushing into his built. He wants that warmth to dissipate into him. Make him feel alive again. What did go wrong in your relationship? Before he could even try to pull back the memory, he was struck again by your words. Her. Who is her? Daichi swore he is not drunk and pretty sure that there's not yet a her now. He whipped his head in your direction but your shadow was long gone.

The long-awaited week off finally arrived. You started the day by cleaning up your house, airing up everything. Pillows, mattress, your plushies. Doing chores always make you feel productive, jamming through the blasting speakers of your “heads boppin walkin alone” playlist. You tried a new breakfast recipe that you saw on Tik Tok and turned out really good. The weather is so good today, it felt like a waste if you spend time indoors. You washed up quickly, you stared at your wardrobe, thinking what outfit of the day you should try now. Pushing one hanger at a time, you saw the sundress that Daichi bought for you. A knee-length dusty sage sundress, with pleated around the skirt area, v-lined, and half-arm length sleeves. Slipping into your white sandals, you grabbed your bag and headed out to your favorite bookstore. One whole week of doing nothing might as well pick up a new book.

You passed through the antique, small indie coffee shop that Daichi found while he was doing his morning runs. You stare through the display window, laughing to yourself. Wouldn't it be funny if Daichi was here? You let yourself into the shop. At this moment, you truly believe you hold the power to jinx yourself when it comes to Daichi. It’s the second time the universe loves seeing you suffer. He was there with his training jacket and shorts. Sweats were still visible on his sideburns. His coffee almost slipped from his grasp when he saw you, but what surprised him more - he saw you in the dress he bought. His heart felt a live pulse, a too-familiar feeling growing inside him.

“Hey y/n”

“Hey Sawamura”

“Fancy meeting you here”

“Yeah, I came here to pick up a new book from the old bookstore”

“Oh, nice. You’ve always been a reader”

An awkward chuckle escaped your lips. Oh, how you wished you had the power to fast-forward time. The tension between you could cut slice anything that comes into your space. Daichi chose to break the silence.

“Hey y/n, I know it’s a bit too early but are you free ton-. Sorry”

His ringtone caught his attention. He still used the old ringtone that you set for him. It made you soft and blushed a little. Daichi swayed his hands towards his back pocket, swiping through to pick up whoever’s calling. You swore you heard a small devil whisper inside you, wishing whoever called Daichi, their pinky gonna meet every corner they can get. Your heart almost stopped beating when you heard a woman's voice through the grills. Your gut feeling was proven more after you saw Daichi’s smile. You snapped back yourself back into the harsh and cruel reality. Enough is enough. You need to move on. Daichi already did it. What's stopping you?

While Daichi was busy answering his call, you took your coffee and went straight back home. Just as he hung up, he was greeted by your trailing dust. He missed his chance twice to have a proper conversation with you. Is fate trying to test him or is there something else that it wants to tell? Either way, he knows he shouldn’t give up, just as his feelings never did. Especially after the two unexpected meetings with you, he knows at least this - you haven’t yet rejected his existence near you. He cupped his face, gathering all ideas to have a longer, more open conversation with you, hoping you would still feel the same. He wished hard for a slight amber within your heart that he could reignite it and start anew, fresh new pages with you. He texted you as soon as he exited the shop, guessing by now you have his number unblocked.

next >

[rolandtowen]

Prince Zuko was a harsh, entitled boy.

Firelord Zuko is a ruler who makes amends. - a study in the various side characters that Zuko came across in his banishment, and how he repays his past actions.

Read Chapter One on ao3 or under the cut! TW for referenced non-con and colonialism

[I believe @flamehotman and @flameomcfirey wanted to be tagged?]

Chapter One: Song

We will get there when we get there, don't you worry Feel bad about the things we do along the way But not really that bad We inhaled the frozen air Lord, send me a mechanic if I'm not beyond repair

- The Mountain Goats

It happened on a Tuesday afternoon.

Zuko was meeting with the agricultural council, a collection of both scholars and farmers, to discuss best practices for renewing the Fire Nations agricultural trade. For so many decades, the Fire Nation out-sourced its agriculture to land in the colonies and imported much of its food. But with the land being given back, the Fire Nation was either going to have to begin growing its own food again, or import their food at a fair price. The economic committee decided on Monday that reviving the Fire Nation farms would be far more cost effective - and of course, would create more jobs in the Fire Nation. With the war over, the number of soldiers that the military required had dropped dramatically, and there were many citizens without work. Zuko had instated severance benefits for unemployed soldiers - the ones not found guilty of war crimes of course, mostly the young recruits - but it couldn't last forever.

It was maddening. Every time Zuko unraveled one problem, he undoubtedly found or created another one. He was trying, really trying, to keep his people safe. But he also had a duty to the rest of the world. The nations that his lineage colonized, pillaged, and destroyed. He resists the urge to write to Aang, to ask him how he does it, how he balances all of the nations in every action he takes. But Aang is busy, all of his friends are, spread thin to the four corners of the world.

Uncle visits him occasionally, when the letters from staff concerned about Zuko's health pile up on his desk. One too many servants have found him, asleep at his desk, face down in treaty papers. But Uncle has his hands full. He already splits his time enough between the Jasmine Dragon and Ember Island, looking after Azula.

Azula.

She was improving, and that's really all Zuko can ask for. He sees her a couple of times a month, pours her a cup of tea, and they sit on the balcony of their vacation-house-turned-mental-retreat. Most of the time, they don't talk. Zuko won't push her; he remembers his silence in his first few months of being banished, how Uncle had to coax him to say anything at meals. Sometimes the only words he uttered in a day were in prayer before meditation. Zuko had thought to himself, speaking out got me into this mess: I'll never speak again.

He's not sure what words were exchanged between Azula and Ozai before he left her and went to burn down the Earth Kingdom, but he can guess it wasn't good. Few of his father's words were.

So they sit and drink their tea. Sometimes, on a good day, Zuko will fix up Azula's hair for her, and she'll reveal some bits of information that he files away for future examination. Something like, I saw Mom before you came with Master Katara. Or she'll double check her reality, asking, you let Ty Lee and Mai out of jail, right? and Zuko will say yes, her friends are safe, they should be visiting any day now.

As painful as seeing her may be, spending time with Azula is far preferable to sitting through an agricultural council meeting.

He looks down at the paper in front of him, a comprehensive budget list for all of the supplies needed to revitalize the Fire Nation's agricultural sphere. Dozens of machines that he's sure Sokka had a hand in inventing, hundreds of varieties of seeds that Omashu is generously selling to them, and -

Thousands of ostrich-horses.

"Councilor Yichen, can you elaborate on the number of animals in this budget? Certainly with the machines we'll provide, farmers will not need so many working livestock."

Councilor Yichen stands, giving a little bow in Zuko's direction. "Of course, Lord Zuko. While the machines will certainly boost productivity, we only have enough for one per farming village at this point. Each family needs at least one working animal, if not to plow the fields, then to transport goods. We decided on ostrich-horses on a recommendation from farmers in the Earth Kingdom colonies, who found them to be invaluable. An ostrich-horse is, in many ways, more valuable than a machine."

Zuko's stomach settles uncomfortably, but he isn't entirely sure why. "Thank you, Councilor. I understand now."

Yichen gives another little bow before he sits, and the rest of the meeting goes as planned, with the exception of a strange seed of unknown guilt now growing in Zuko's stomach.

"Uncle, do you remember when you made tea out of that poisonous plant?"

Uncle laughs, hands faltering as he pours Zuko a cup of jasmine tea. "I remember, Nephew. How could I ever forget?"

"Do you remember the girl who helped you?"

Uncle takes a sip of the warm tea. "Song. Her mother made the best roast duck." He looks at Zuko out of the corner of his eyes. "Why do you ask?"

Zuko looks out over the gardens. He's able to see the whole palace grounds from where they're seated on the second-floor balcony, watching the sun rise. As far as the eye can see, Zuko is upheld as a flawless ruler, his word taken as law. He's sick of it.

"I stole her ostrich-horse," he murmurs into his tea, taking a sip to calm his nerves. "I just remembered, in that agricultural meeting a few days ago. I - I never knew how essential those were to farmers, I just thought I was taking their ride." He turns to fully face his Uncle. "But I think I took a lot more than that."

Uncle meets his eyes with understanding. "And now you want to give it back."

"I know there's no way for me to fully apologize for how I acted in exile, but it feels like I have to try." The cup quivers a bit in his hands, and so his hands drop to his lap. "I'll need someone to watching over the Nation while I'm gone."

Uncle places one of his warm hands over Zuko's shaking ones. "I'm sure I can deal with your advisors for a few days." He squeezes his hand just slightly around Zuko's. "I'm proud to see that even in a few short months, your wisdom as a ruler is growing. Go, make your amends. The Nation will be here when you return." Uncle calls for Zuko's secretary and tells her to clear as much of the Firelord's schedule as she can for the next week. Their voices fade into the background as Zuko stares into his tea, wracking his brain to try and figure out how to track down just one girl in the entire Earth Kingdom. Sending scouts or soldiers from town to town is a recipe for disaster, and the Earth Kingdom villages have been traumatized enough. He supposes he could always call in a ride on his favorite air bison but - this feels like something he should do on his own.

If Song hates him, it might be hard for her to show it in front of the Avatar.

So he'll go alone. No friends, no royal guard. He'll come into Song's town the same way he came last time - defenseless. She can hate him if she wants, he'll give her that.

And he'll try to give back what he took from her.

He packs light, pulling an old tunic and boots from the back of his wardrobe. Though they've been thoroughly cleaned by the palace staff, the scent of campfires and smoke linger upon them. He grabs a cloak - the Earth Kingdom will be starting to chill at this time of year - and he slips out of the palace, using the servant's entrance to get onto the streets unseen.

Autumn comes quietly in the Earth Kingdom. The trees slowly lose their color, giving the last of their strength into vibrant leaves. Soldiers previously conscripted to fight in the war have either returned to their families or have gone to tend to the scorched earth where the Phoenix King made landfall. They clear the debris of fallen airships, making room for the earth to slowly restore herself.

Song envies those soldiers.

Their lives have changed with the ending of the war, but Song's life continues on, its mundane routine continuing over and over again. She cares for a small garden, crafts herbal remedies for her neighbors, and tries to make her mother comfortable. She curses the Spirits for their cruel sense of humor - her mother survives the greatest war ever seen, lives through the attempted invasion of her homeland, only to be struck down by frailty months after the end of it all. Hasn't she suffered enough? Song has whispered those words to the woods on her way to the well time and time again. Now, her body is just - stopping.

Her mother is dying and there's nothing she can do.

Song knows all living things have their time. And she's seen too many living beings go before their rightful time. But she never imagined her mother's time would be in a time of peace. Wasn't ending the war supposed to stop all this pain? Apparently not. She tries not to become bitter, knows that that's the last thing her mother would want for her, but - it hurts. And there's not a damn thing she can do about it.

The leaves from dying trees crackle under her feet.

She arrives at the well, alone. Her hometown is just barely beginning to wake up, rising from its slumber as mothers bring in dry clothes from the clotheslines and fathers begin to toil in the fields. Children run freely from street to street, with a joy that was forbidden during the Fire Nation's occupation. They're kicking at a ball, passing it from one pair of bare feet to another, and Song smiles at them. Someday, maybe.

She sets her water jug on the stone wall of the well and begins to lower the bucket before hearing the ball make impact and a man's voice grunt, "oof!". She spins rapidly around to see a young man, rear planted firmly in the dirt, one hand rubbing at his forehead while the other wipes at a watering eye. The group of children stand, frozen, and she gives them a look, and unspoken command to stay and apologize to the man they just hit with their ball.

"Here, take my hand," Song holds out her right hand, and the man takes it. When the young man meets her eyes, she almost drops him back in the dirt. He has those amber eyes, and she can just see under his loose hair - a burn scar. "Lee?!"

He stands, brushing dust from his cloak, and she catches the hints of red fabric that lie beneath. She recoils. He sighs. "Um, about that." Song sees his hands tremble against his cloak. "My name's not Lee - and I'm from the Fire Nation."

Song reacts as if she'd been slapped. She trips backwards, away from Not Lee, landing hard against the stone of the well. Her leg is aching, feels like its on fire all over again, looking into those amber eyes.

"How could you? I let you into my home." She braces her hands against the well, her leg threatening to give out at any moment. "Now it all makes sense, that you stole from me. That's all you ashmakers are good for." She spits, and it lands on his scarred cheek. "You take land that isn't yours, take women that aren't yours, you take lives!" Her leg finally collapses, and she sinks to the ground with her back against the well. Not Lee makes a move, and she throws her hands up. "Don't you touch me," she grits out, clutching at her leg. He stills, and she wraps her arms around herself, bringing her knees to her chest. "I pitied you, you know? I thought your mother must've been - I looked at your eyes and thought you were a victim like me, like my mother." Her whole body is trembling, but she doesn't care. "But I bet you know who your father is, I bet you're proud to have his eyes."

Not Lee mirrors her, curling in on himself, not even bothering to wipe his face clean. "I do know who my father is, but I'm not proud of him." He looks up to meet her eyes, and Song is struck by how young he looks. When she'd last seen him, he'd looked gaunt, malnourished, with sharp cheekbones. Now, his face had filled out and he looks - young? The scar makes him look older as well, but when you look on the opposite side of his face - all she can see is a kid, couldn't be older than a teenager.

And he was crying.

Stubborn as he is, Not Lee is resolutely ignoring the tears slowly falling from his eyes, but nevertheless - they fell. Song didn't expect that reaction. Tears are not what she expected from a Fire National. Anger, rage, violence - those are the things she's tasted at the hands of firebenders, but this? This is new.

"I'm sorry," Not Lee whispers, looking at his feet. "I came to apologize, I wanted to repay you for your kindness and return what I took. But I think I've overstayed my welcome." He scrubs at his face roughly with the heel of one hand. "But I am, truly sorry. I acted selfishly the last time I was in your home, and I took advantage of your compassion. And I understand that my nation has done even worse. I'm trying to make it better." He pulls his hair back with a band. "I know you have no reason to trust me, but I would like to purchase you a new ostrich-horse. And anything else you or your mother may require."

Without warning, Not Lee shifts from his seat position to a bowing one, kneeling with his head pressed to the dry earth. Song stares at him for a small eternity, before realizing that he's waiting, unmoving, for her response. For her judgement.

She lets out a small breath. "Okay," his eyes flick up to hers and her stomach twists. The way he bows is so precise - it must have been drilled into him hundreds of times before. Another thing she wouldn't have expected from a firebender. "Come to dinner."

He stands after she does and gives another slight bow. As they begin the walk back to Song's home, he offers to carry her water jug, and Song feels more weight than one lifted from her.

"What did you say your name was again, young man?" Mei pokes at Zuko's shoulder as she hobbles to the table.

"Mom, I'm sorry about her, she's getting older," Song sets a bowl of fragrant roast duck in front of him and Zuko feels his mouth begin to water.

"No, it's okay, I don't think I've actually properly introduced myself." He takes a quick sip of tea - bracing himself for whatever will happen next - and calmly sets the mug back down. "My name is Zuko," he begins slowly. "AndI'mkindoftheFirelord."

There's the sound of Song dropping a bowl in the kitchen, and Mei leans in a bit closer to Zuko.

"Sorry, dear, could you say that again? My ears aren't what they used to be."

Zuko opens his mouth to respond, but Song slowly enters the room, her eyes narrowed in on Zuko. "You said - you're the firelord?" He nods at her, waiting for her to swing a knife at him, kick him out of their home, call some earthbenders to rough him up -

Before his panic can start to set in, Song runs out the front door, slamming it behind her.

Zuko looks helplessly at Mei.

"Give her a moment." Mei brings her pair of chopsticks to her mouth. "Hmm, she still doesn't make it as well as I used to."

"What about you? Do you hate me?"

Mei sighs, putting her bowl down. "I'm too old for hate, dear. My time in this world is almost over. I can't spend it hating world rulers." She takes a sip of her tea. "But Song? She -" Mei sighs again. "She's been hurt deeply by the Fire Nation, in more ways than one. And it isn't just you. But for a long time, the monarchy has been the embodiment of everything terrible that's ever happened to her. And now you're here, standing in front of her."

Zuko nods. "I understand. And I am sorry, to you as well. I don't think I fully understood the reach of the war. I was always taught that the army acted with honor, that women and children were untouchable." He looks down at his folded hands. "I can see that was false."

"Unfortunately, you are correct." She reaches between them to refill Zuko's cup, then Song's, and hands them both to him. "Go to her. A bit of tea should help bring you some good favor."

The screen door opens and closes, and Zuko finds himself out on the porch. Song sits on the edge, absently massaging her leg, peering into the darkness of the forest.

"Can I join you?"

She shrugs, and he takes that as a yes. Handing over her tea, Zuko sits besides her and tries to find what she sees in the darkness.

For a few minutes, the only sounds are those of them drinking and crickets chirping. Then Song speaks.

"His name was Bao."

Treasured. Precious. Rare.

"That's a lovely name."

"What happened to him?" Song turns abruptly to look at him with shining eyes. "Did he...?"

Zuko shakes his head emphatically. "My Uncle and I traded him to a florist for safe passage to Ba Sing Se. The florist seemed like a good man."

"You went to Ba Sing Se?"

Zuko runs one hand down the back of his neck. "I might have conquered it, actually?"

Sing snorts. "That part I've heard about. You've lived an interesting life, Zuko."

"If by 'interesting' you mean messy, then yes." He sighs. "You had no reason to trust me. Why did you let me back into your home?"

Song laughs, tinged with bitterness. "My mother says I'm too trusting, too gullible." She swirls the dregs of her tea around the bottom of her cup. "But I think there's strength in being kind. And I really did want to forgive you. But you have to be ready."

"And do you think I am?"

She smiles softly at him. "For me, yes. But my guess is I'm not the only person you hurt in exile." She gulps down her remaining tea. "They may not be as forgiving as I am."

"I'm preparing myself for that possibility."

"Does it scare you?"

Zuko ponders it. "I think it does. The idea that I've hurt someone innocent so badly that they may never be able to move past it... that keeps me up at night."

Songs turns towards him, tucking her knees up to her chest. "We can't control how other people see us in this life. How they react to our actions is up to them - all that we can control is our response. You have to be ready to accept that someone may not be ready to forgive you, and you can't let that eat you up." She stares at him intently. "You have to confident that your own actions are enough. That they're good."

It's Zuko's turn to laugh sourly. "Easier said than done," his hand wanders to his scar. "Sometimes I'm still not sure if what I'm doing is right."

"You don't have to do it alone, you know," Song gives him an understanding look. "You need other people around you, Zuko, to remind you what's good."

He huffs, looking down at his hands, folded in his lap. "Do you want to be one of those people?"

"I think you have more than enough goodness surrounding you already. You just have to be confident enough to ask." She sighs, looking back out into the darkness. "Besides, I have to stay here with my mother. She doesn't have long."

"Are you sure there's nothing I can do? I could send my healers -"

She shakes her head, cutting him off midsentence. "It's her time." She begins to rub at her scars again. "I just didn't know how much it would hurt. We finally have some peace, and suddenly it's her time."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, not for this. It's due to you that she'll be able to die during peacetime." Her hands come to her eyes, wiping tears away before they can spill down her cheeks. "Her biggest fear was that she'd die and leave me alone to fend for myself during the war. You released her from that fear. Of course I forgive you, Zuko. My mother's no longer scared of dying because of you."

The two of them are silent for a long time, watching fireflies flicker off and on in the trees, listening to the crickets sing.

"I'm going to find Bao for you."

Song looks up in surprise. "You don't have to-"

"I want to, I'm sure he's still out there somewhere." Zuko rises from his seat. "If you ever need anything, anything, you write directly to me. I'll tell my staff that you're a priority."

"Are you leaving?" Song stands as well. "You could stay, if you want."

Zuko shakes his head silently. "I have to get back, and travelling by night is best for a Firelord who doesn't want his identity revealed," he smiles, his scarred skin relaxing into it. With that, he pulls his hair out of its topknot, grabs his pack and swords, and starts to disappear into the night.

"Firelord Zuko?" He stops and turns back at the sound of Song's voice. She makes the sign of the flame and bows. "Thank you, for everything." He bows back, lower than protocol dictates, but he doesn't care.

Three weeks pass, and the air has turned bitterly cold.

Song again makes her daily trip to the village well, with snow crunching under her feet instead of dead leaves. The soldiers have returned from their work in restoring fields for the season, and so the village feels alive when she steps into it. Despite the chill, children still run in the street, under the watchful eye of their mothers and fathers. Song feels a twinge of longing, but she tries to focus on the happiness she feels for the children instead. Song sets her water jug on the side of the well, breathing hot air into her palms to warm her hands after touching the freezing stone.

"Excuse me, miss, are you Song?" A voice comes from behind her, and she turns to see two men dressed in red tunics.

"I am," she replies, tucking her hands into the pockets of her hanbok. "And you are?"

They bow to her. "We come on behalf of Firelord Zuko, to deliver a gift." A third man rounds the corner with an ostrich-horse on a tether. "We found him at a desert settlement, he's been well taken care of, but if there's anything you need -"

They're cut off as Song runs to throw her arms around the neck of the ostrich-horse. "Bao!" She strokes his beak, looking into his eyes. "Do you remember me?"

Bao cocks his head to the side, pupils widening as he chirps softly, and then he lets out a loud whinny, pushing his head into Song's chest. He purrs, closing his eyes and relaxes against her.

"Sweet Bao, it's really me, you're really home," Song can feel her eyes dampening, but holds it together as one of the men hands her a bit of parchment.

"A note from the Firelord. He wanted us to remind you that you can write to him anytime you need anything."

Song nods. "And tell him I said 'thank-you' again." Bao whinnies loudly again, and she adds on, "Bao says 'thank-you' too."

"Of course, miss." With a synchronized bow, the men depart, and Song unrolls the parchment.

Song,

I've followed your advice and surrounded myself with good people. It helps.

Give my best to your mother - my Uncle still talks about her roast duck sometimes. I've established a fund specially for women and child victims of the war, inspired by some of what you and Mei shared with me. Write me if you feel like you or anyone in your village wants to apply for it.

And, thank you for trusting and forgiving me. I'll try to keep earning it.

May the Spirits continually bless you,

Zuko

She tucks the parchment into her pocket, fills her jug, and finds herself back in Bao's familiar saddle after more than a year. "Come on, Bao," she says as she takes the lead into her hands, guiding them back to the empty farmhouse.

"Let's go home."

[if you read through this whole thing, go drink some water! I'll know if u don't :) ]

[wanderinginksplot]

Warriors in Red Armor

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Chapter Two

Hound II

79's was loud, dim, and crowded. There were so many people packed into the building that the air inside felt thick and hard to breathe. Any conversationalists had to shout if they wanted the other party to hear them. The main illumination in the room came from accent lighting, flashing spotlights, and the occasional glowing cybernetic.

It was chaos, and Hound loved every second of it.

He had always been a fan of crowds, of feeling the press of civilization. He and Grizzer were similar in that sense: they both thrived in situations that offered plenty of information to take in.

When the three Coruscant Guard troopers had arrived at 79's, they fell into their traditional pattern. First, Thire had tried a cheesy pick-up line on a beautiful Mirialan female just inside the doors. She had given him a pity-filled smile and turned him down. Thire had been unaffected. His pick-up lines had a 0% success rate, but he kept trying.

Next, Thorn had stopped by the bar on the way in. He ordered a Corellian whisky, light on the ice, and ignored Hound's protests that they would get the first round together in a few minutes. Thorn sipped at his drink as they walked to the Coruscant Guard's standard booth.

The Corrie Guard booth wasn't reserved - as if 79's would allow something like that - but no one else ever sat there. That was one of the benefits of always being planetside with a regular presence in 79's. No trooper from another battalion would ever try to sit at their booth, not without an express invitation.

Before he did anything else, Hound got Thorn and Thire stowed at the booth. The former was drinking while the latter focused on thinking up a new pick-up line. Hound then left to get drinks for the party. This was his favorite part: getting to meet people.

With the warmth of amusement filling him at the antics of his vode and the civvies on the dance floor, Hound made his slow, weaving way to the bar. There, he chatted with brothers and civilians alike while he waited for the drinks he had ordered. Thorn wanted another Corellian whisky on the rocks, Thire requested a hyperdrive, and Hound decided on a surly sarlacc.

As the bartender placed the second drink in front of him, Hound glanced at the people around him. To his right were a Bith and a Sullustan in some kind of embrace. Deciding he didn't want to learn any more, Hound turned to his left side instead. There, he found a pale woman sipping frantically at a cup of what he was sure was a blue bantha.

"Hey, no rush!" he called over the pounding music. "They aren't going to run out of booze."

She smiled wanly at him. "Are you sure? Everyone here is drinking like the bar is closing and they want to be hospitalized by the time it happens."

"Lighten up, Ark!" a pretty girl on the stranger's other side called. She slung an arm around her friend's neck, and Hound caught a whiff of Corellian whisky from her glass. "One night out isn't gonna kill you!"

"It might," the pale woman sulked, taking another swig of her blue bantha.

"Another whiskey, handsome," the louder one said to the bartender, adding a wink that made the infamously slow-moving man pick up the pace.

The wheels in Hound's mind were spinning. The two women might end up being an excellent match for Thorn and Thire. His vode had expressed interest in finding hookups for the night. Who better for a loud trooper and a quiet one than a loud woman and a quiet one?

"Hey, how about I buy this round and both of you help me carry these drinks back to my friends?" Hound asked.

The louder of the two grinned at him. "Two hands, three drinks, and a crowded dance floor? Sounds like a recipe for disaster. It's our civic duty to make sure no one slips in spilled alcohol." The quiet woman simply shrugged, which Hound took as an agreement.

When the bartender came to drop off Thire's hyperdrive, Hound ordered another round for the women. He directed the quieter one to carry her own drink and the hyperdrive while he carried Thorn's Corellian whisky and the surly sarlacc.

"Don't trust me to carry two drinks?" the other woman asked with a faux pout.

Hound smiled and shook his head. "I might need you to clear a path and you seem like you can command attention."

With that, she laughed and struck a dramatic pose that made at least two troopers in the area stare. "Follow me!"

True to Hound's expectations, she led them across the dance floor with ease. When they reached the other side, she paused while Hound took the lead to the Coruscant Guard's booth. When they arrived, the other troopers immediately caught sight of Hound's guests. Thorn glanced away and took another sip of his drink while Thire's entire face lit up with interest.

"Hey, guys this is…" Hound paused, realizing with a guilty pang that he had never gotten their names. "... blue bantha and Corellian whisky. These are my fellow troopers, Thorn and Thire."

The louder woman slid into the booth with a laugh, offering Thorn her hand to shake. "Corellian whisky, also known as Kai. Blue bantha is my friend Ark."

"Ark?" Thire asked, standing so that the quiet, pale woman could sit on the inside of the booth. Hound noticed with interest that Thire was watching Ark closely. He would have bet every credit he owned that Thire would have gone for the bubbly Kai instead.

"Yeah, it's a nickname?" Kai explained, mouth quirking up at one corner. "Her real one is too long for easy use."

"What is your full name, Ark?" Thire murmured. Hound could only just hear him over the music, but he was silently begging his brother not to use one of his pickup lines on the poor woman.

"Arkularia," Ark answered with a grimace. "I know it's a lot."

"I think it's beautiful," Thire said fervently.

Ark's pale cheeks reddened and she gave a single nod in thanks.

Hound's amused look was echoed by those of Thorn and Kai. Thorn, of course, took the chance to egg his brother on.

"What's wrong, Thire? Run out of your famous pick-up lines?"

"Pick-up lines?" Kai asked, sounding intrigued.

Ark's cheeks reddened further. "Do they work often?"

"Ehh…" Thire hedged.

"Never," Hound chimed in.

Thorn took another gulp of whiskey. "Not on the sane ones."

Kai winked at Thorn as she loudly said, "I think Ark wants to hear one of those pick-up lines, Thire. Do you have one for her?"

Thire looked at Ark for direction, but she only lifted a pale brow. Defeated, Thire took a deep breath and put on his cockiest smile. Hound counted Thire as a friend and that smile still made him want to hit the man in the face. "Hey, Ark, I've got a problem. I lost my comlink frequency. Could I have yours?"

The group dissolved into laughter and the proverbial ice between the two groups seemed thoroughly broken.

"So, Corellian whisky, huh?" Thorn asked Kai, who grinned. "You have good taste."

"Back at you," Kai said, inclining her glass to connect lightly with Thorn's. "I don't know how they get away with selling this vintage so cheap here."

Thorn's eyes sharpened and Hound fought back a smirk. The alcohol prices at 79's had been a source of much discussion from Thorn over the years, and Hound was glad his brother had finally found someone to share that interest with. Especially since Hound wouldn't have to be part of the conversation.

"Well, I have to go," Hound said, tipping back the last of his surly sarlacc.

"Wait, what?" Kai asked. The sentiment was backed up by the expression on Thorn's face. Thire and Ark paid exactly no attention to his announcement, their interest clearly captured by each other.

Hound shrugged. "I have to report for an early morning shift in a few hours. I need to rest up if I'm going to make a good impression on the good people of Coruscant."

Thorn frowned. "What are you talking about? Earlier today, you told the commander that you would be fine to stay out late."

Hound pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. "Why, Thorn! Would I ever be so irresponsible?"

"Always," Thorn said dryly.

"I can't hear you over the music!" Hound shouted, too loud even in the din that was 79's. "See you tomorrow!"

He left before Thorn had a chance to deliver a retort, but he noted with more than a little glee that neither Thire nor Ark had noticed him leaving.

---

Ark I

Thire was charming, there was no doubt about it. He had spent the past two hours asking questions about Ark and actually listening to her answers, as if her every word was fascinating. Most men saw her as an easy way to get to the talkative and flirtatious Kai - at least, if they didn't know anything about who Ark was - but Thire's attention seemed fixed on quiet Ark.

"So, what do you do here on Coruscant?" he asked.

Ark relaxed a fraction. Bars and clubs weren't exactly her scene, but her work? She could talk about that all day.

"Kai and I work as part of an information securities team."

"That sounds… really cool, actually," Thire said, admiration in his voice.

Ark felt an odd urge to preen under the half-compliment before her better sense kicked in and she quashed the temptation. "It pays the bills," she said instead, giving a casual sort of shrug.

"What kind of information securities are we talking about here?" he asked, encouraging her to go on.

For the first time in their conversation, Ark hesitated. Ransom always emphasized how important it was to keep a low profile, but this was Thire. Goofy, pick-up line-using Thire couldn't be anyone of enough importance to get them in trouble.

"Well, we specialize in data recovery," she told him. "Lately, we've been branching out into a new service. Businesses hire us to test security measures and report our findings."

"That's awesome!" Thire enthused, and Ark was relieved to see no hint of deeper understanding or curiosity in his dark eyes. "Do you have, like, a team name?"

"It- It's not exactly a team," she clarified, hoping he wasn't going to get condescending. "It's a business. A thriving one, actually. We're called Red Squad."

Thire frowned and Ark tensed. Would he recognize the name? Instead, he gave a broad grin after a moment had passed. "What a coincidence! We're a red squad!"

"Oh, is red your unit's chosen color?" Ark asked politely.

"Yep, Coruscant Guard crimson," he bragged. "Planetary landing squads will try to make it sound like they have the only important job in the GAR, but keeping Coruscant safe is a lot of work."

"You're permanently stationed on Coruscant?" Ark double-checked, trying to hide the surprise she was feeling. It didn't matter - he saw through her attempt to be subtle.

"You weren't expecting me to be around for very long," Thire summarized. His face went polite and distant rather than being warm and friendly like it had been through their previous conversation.

"Not exactly," she admitted, feeling guilty that her thought process had been almost exactly what he expected. "I mean... I know a lot of troopers have to rotate on and off of Coruscant. Is it nice to stay in one place?"

Thire's eyes thawed slightly. "It is, but sometimes I wish I had the chance to see more places. Actively do more good, you know?"

"I think you do plenty of good here," Ark encouraged softly. She wanted to show him that she wasn't some heartless snob who looked down on the troopers who defended her home. "The war may seem far away from Coruscant, but it's only because you and your brothers work so hard to keep us all safe. Thank you for that."

"Listen, Ark…" Thire said gently, but she had trouble hearing him. Instead, loud cheering from Kai and laughter from Thorn stole her attention as they watched someone on the dance floor.

"I don't believe it - a perfect 30!" Kai shouted while Thorn pounded the table with his fist and roared with laughter.

The idea of seemingly stoic Thorn laughing so hard with cheerful Kai brought a smile to Ark's face, but the sentiment was not shared by Thire. Instead, the trooper scowled across the booth.

"Vod, do you mind?" he asked sharply.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry," Thorn apologized, waving a hand in Thire's direction.

"Anyway, is it okay if I comm you sometime?" Thire asked, refocusing on Ark. "I'd like to spend time with you somewhere that I can actually hear you."

"Not much to hear, most days," Ark said with a soft smile.

"Still," Thire pressed. "Would that be okay with you?"

Thire smiled at her, the expression lighting up his handsome face, and Ark paused. The evening had been perfect so far, but how would their next encounter go? She worked hard to cultivate the image of a quiet woman whose most interesting traits were tied to her job. Still, Ark had secrets that couldn't come to light, especially around a trooper of the Coruscant Guard. Plus, Thire was a good-looking, charismatic man with skills and interests far exceeding those he needed for his job. He would figure her out - it would only be a matter of time. She should give a polite refusal and keep the memory of this night a perfect one.

Ark opened her mouth, ready to turn him down, but the open nervousness on Thire's face made her pause. She could not reject him. She wasn't strong enough to choose a quick end to their time together.

Instead, she smiled and nodded, fighting a wave of disappointment in herself. She was willing to wring every drop of happiness from their acquaintanceship before the inevitable end. It was dangerous behavior from a woman whose safety relied on secrecy, but she was hopeful that it would be worth it.

---

A/N - So, this story isn't entirely written from Hound's perspective. He just really likes to talk! I promise, the next chapter will feature other narrators, and will introduce the rest of the characters we're missing.

Per request, the chapters will feature individual warnings about potential triggers. If I miss one, please feel free to let me know!

And yes, some of the drink names in this chapter were taken directly from Oga's Cantina in Star Wars: Galaxy's Edge.

[animatorweirdo]

Frozen heart: Music in the dark

You fall into middle-earth with your best friend and start a new life. 

Warning: Swearing and scary themes.

This chapter is a bit long but it might be interesting to read. 

"Run! Run! Run!" You yelled.

The ghouls screeched behind you and your friend. You two ran like crazy through the forest. The ghouls jumped from tree to tree as they pursued you two. You could hear their haunting screaming above the ground. You could also hear them from far away on the ground too. They were trying to surround you two.

You and your friend hopped over a fallen log. One of the ghouls managed to jump at you. You quickly pulled your friend over the log. The ghoul crashed into the log, breaking it in half. The ghoul would have gotten your friend if you didn't pull her away. You two didn't waste time and quickly ran away. Another ghoul appeared in front of you, blocking your way. You two screamed and ran in another direction. The ghouls were literally everywhere. You started to doubt that you two will escape alive.

"Jump!" Your friend pulled you with her and you two, then stumbled down a rocky hill. You grunted and gasped as your body rolled down the hill. Rocks and sticks under the snow hitting you and scraping your skin. You two finally managed to get to the down of the hill. The violent spinning stopped. You laid on the snowy ground, breathing heavily. Everything was stinging.

"Camilla!" You called for your friend. She appeared in front of your line of vision and quickly helped you up. You groaned when your ribs started to ache. There was a chance of broken ribs. You ignored your pain and checked if Camilla had injuries. "Come on; we need to keep moving," She said, pulling you gently. You heard hollow screaming in the distance. They were coming. You two quickly moved, and to your surprise, you two managed to find a cliff and a waterfall. There was a long drop over the cliff. The place was pretty sweet, but there was literally nowhere to go to. You two were trapped. "Are you freaking kidding me?!" Camilla yelled.

You two gasped when something dropped behind you. You two turned around and were faced with a giant ghoul. It was bigger than the other ones, and it had blood-red eyes than rotten yellow. You smelled a foul smell of death. The ghoul growled at you two, licking its sharp teeth. It was ready to devour you two. You looked around in panic. There were no more escape routes, except the waterfall if you jumped, and hope the fall won't kill you. There was a tiny chance that you two will survive, but it was better than getting eaten by a giant blood-thirsty monster.

"Hey, this might get us killed, but would you rather be food than jump off a cliff?" You asked. "Are you crazy?" Camilla asked. "Maybe, but there is a tiny chance of survival," You said. Camilla stared at you like you grew another head. She turned her attention back to the giant ghoul. It started approaching you two with hunger in its eyes. She glanced at the cliff, then at the ghoul. "Fuck it!" She yelled. She grabbed your arm and jumped over the cliff with you. You two screamed as you fell toward the bottom. You fell through a cold mist before being engulfed by cold water. You screamed from the shock the cold water gave you. Your screams were muffled by the water, and the air in your lungs turned into bubbles. It was so cold. It was like thousands of cold needles were stabbing you from every corner.

Someone suddenly grabbed your jacket and pulled you up. You gasped as you burst through the surface. The cold air struck you like a brick. Camilla pulled you out of the deep water. You stood up after your foot hit the bottom. You hugged Camilla's arm as your legs felt like jello. "Fuck, it's cold," Your teeth clattered. You turned toward Camilla. "Are you okay?" You asked. She was shaking as well. You both were dripping wet from the cold water. "Uhm... look over there," Camilla suddenly pointed out. You followed her gaze, confused, then froze when you saw people. They were wearing strange medieval clothes and were staring at you two with shocked and frightful expressions. Why were they wearing medieval clothes? You then noticed a slight change in the environment. The waterfall was gone, and it was morning. If you recalled correctly. It was still nighttime before you two jumped over the cliff. You also didn't hear the ghouls anymore. Where in the hell you two ended up to?

"Camilla... where the fuck are we?" You asked.

And that's how you two came to this world. Middle-earth, the land of humans, dwarves, elves, and orcs. There are even people called Valars and Maiars, who are like gods of this world. You and Camilla were completely dumbstruck when you heard that from the village people you met at the lake. However, you two needed to do a lot of convincing to make them believe that you were not the dark lord's servants. This dark lord guy, Morgoth was a big deal and something to be afraid of. You and Camilla, however, didn't think about it much and started traveling in this new world. It was fairly exciting, but sometimes you two got really homesick, which led you two to settle down in a nice village near the mountains of Himring and the place called Maglor's Gap. Weird names, but this was another world, so it made sense.

"Cami! I'm home!" You came through the door. The door slamming against the wall with a loud sound after you kicked it. "Can you like not break the damm door?!"Camilla yelled from the table. She had a bowl in her hands, and there was an open book on the table. You frowned in curiosity after you smelled a mild scent of coffee. "Are you still trying to make coffee out of those beans?" You asked, walking over to the table. "So what?" She asked back. "You don't know how to make coffee, and those beans aren't really coffee beans," You pointed at the bowl of green beans. "Well! It's better than nothing," Camilla continued what she was doing. You shook your head then approached the kitchen cabinets. Camilla and her caffeine addiction. It's been five months since you two came here, and she started to miss her morning coffees desperately. After you two moved into this village, she has been trying to come up with a recipe to make coffee out of the beans that closely resembled the brown coffee beans. She has tried at least five times, and every time it failed. You two ended up drinking something worse than expired milk.

You opened the cabinet, then saw something very bad. You two were out of food. Again. "Cami! There's nothing to eat!" You turned toward your best friend. "What?" She turned toward you then saw the inside of the cabinet. She groaned, knowing what an empty cabinet meant. "For fuck sake," She stated.

You two walked through the thick forest, holding baskets. It was spring, so finding food was easy since you two mostly fed of from berries and mushrooms. You two occasionally buy food from the village, but money was difficult to get in this world. Technically, you two were broke, really broke. You two sometimes do volunteer works to earn some money, but the money was not enough to feed both of you, so it was off into the forest every time the cabinet was empty. Berries and mushrooms were free.

You crouched down to pick up a batch of brown ceps. Too bad you disliked mushrooms, but it was literally one of the only things you can eat. You fell on your knees after they grew tired of crouching down too long. "You know something, a supermarket would be a really cool place right now," You said and stared at the sky. "I know, too bad credit cards are completely useless around here," Camilla answered. She sighed and stretched her legs. "We could have at least fall into a world where we can at least use our world's currency," She explained. "This world sucks. I wanna go home," You stated. Your thoughts ran back to the memory you saw the giant ghoul for the last time. You actually didn't mind getting eaten by a ghoul right now. Sounds a lot better than walking around in this world, eating berries and mushrooms. "Okay, come on, the cabinet is not gonna fill itself. We need to be back before the nightfall," Camilla stated. You mentally whined. You really didn't want to go through a forest. You wanted to go back to the house and take a nap.

After three hours of suffering and looking through a stupid forest. You two managed to fill your baskets with delicious berries and edible mushrooms. You two were currently in a large meadow. You took a big yawn and looked around the meadow. You stood under a large tree. It gave perfectly shaded from the sun. You set your basket down then sat down, leaning against the tree. "(Name)! I'm gonna go back to the village to buy some meat!" Camilla called. "Okay, I'm gonna stay here and relax a bit," You answered. "Okay, but come back before the sunset or I make dinner for myself!" She called. "Alright!" You answered. You then saw her pick up her basket and disappeared into the forest you two came from. You took a deep sigh and leaned against the tree. You then glanced at the scenery you saw in the distance. Mountains, wide-open land, and forest. It felt so same and unknown at the same time. You didn't really know what to think about it. You and Camilla encountered many types of people. You once met dwarves and that was an exciting experience. Dwarves were quite friendly folk, despite what things have been said about them. Elves and orcs were the only ones you two haven't seen. Elves could be nice to meet, but maybe not orcs. They are said to be the dark lord's servants and the most violent creatures on the earth. It's for the best that you two won't even think about them. You got more serious things to worry about, like getting some decent food on the table.

Your head laid against the bark of the tree. You yawned, and your eyes started drooping. It was peaceful. You don't even remember the last time you found peace. Your eyelids started to close slowly and it was hard to keep them open. Maybe a little nap won't hurt. You were about to close your eyes, but then you remembered something that motivated your eyes to stay open. You never slept well because of the nightmares. Every time you go to sleep, nightmares always bother you, making you wake up in the middle of the night. You were technically an insomniac. That's why you are always tired. You stared into nothingness as you tried to keep your eyes open, but they wanted to close so badly. You yawned. It's been ages since you had a good sleep. The whole thing almost sounds foreign to you,

Birds singing caught your ears. The song of the birds made the situation worse. Your eyes were harder to keep open. A yawn broke out of your mouth. Maybe a short nap won't bother. There was a tiny chance that you will catch a nightmare in such a short time.

You wake up to a sudden sound of a gust of cold wind. Your heart started beating up after you noticed there was snow everywhere. You stood up in a panic. What happened? Why it was winter out of a sudden? You looked up to the sky and saw that it was dark. You weren't sure if it was a night. The moon and the stars were missing. It was just pitch-black darkness. You gasped when you heard a deep rumbling sound from the forest. You stared at the forest where the sound came from. No, it coulnd't be. You backed away with a beating heart. You almost fell on the ground from the startle when you heard the same sound behind you. Your whole body started to shake from a familiar feeling of fear. You stared at the forest in front of you. There was nothing but darkness, but you knew. You knew what lurked in there. Stalking you. Ready to devour your whole existence.

You backed away, not breaking eye contact with the dark forest. Your back hit against the tree. Burning tears started to come out of your eyes. "Please... don't..." You fell against the tree. A familiar feeling touched your bare hands. You saw frost covering your hands under its white layer. Heavy breaths escaped your mouth. The warm air turning into a visible mist from every breath you took. You hugged yourself to protect the last bits of warmth you had. "Go away, Go away..." You begged. The tears running freely across your cheeks. You heard heavy steps coming toward you, but you didn't dare to look up to see what it was. You knew what it was, and you didn't want to look into its eyes. "Go away, please..." You were whimpering at this point.

The silence and the wind were replaced with gentle and beautiful music. You stopped shaking as the fear you felt disappeared. The beautiful music was accompanied by soft humming. Was somebody... singing? Everything suddenly became dark.

You opened your eyes and stared at the green grass in front of you. It was warm, and there was no snow. The sky was blue, and the birds flew across it with freedom. You looked at the forest. There was nothing. You dried up the tears that managed to dry up against your skin. It was just another nightmare. You almost laughed for even thinking a short nap would spare you from nightmares.

Your attention was caught by familiar music you heard in your nightmare.  You looked around the tree and saw a person playing harp. The person was obviously a male, telling from the deepness of his voice. He was quite tall and had long dark hair covering his back. What really caught your attention was his ears. They were pointy. Was he an elf?

You stood quiet and listened to his music. He was a pretty good musician. The dreadful feeling of fear you felt before was gone. You felt calm and relaxed like there was nothing to be afraid of. His humming was also very calming. You can only imagine what his voice sounded like. You were gonna take a bet that his voice was angel-like.

The music ended shortly, and the silence took over the meadow. The birds started singing, and the crickets went on with their business. You almost didn't notice how quiet it was when the elf stopped playing. It was like animals stood quiet for him to play his harp. You heard the elves had a special bond with nature, but this was the first time you got to witness that happen. The silence between you and him started to bug you. You were still literally staring at him while he didn't even know you were there. To avoid future awkwardness, it's better to say something now than nothing.

"Nice song," You said.

You almost crapped yourself when he suddenly snapped his attention toward you. His eyes were steel grey and almost sent shivers to your spine from their coldness. He was quite handsome, though, but you still better be careful with your words. He looked like he was having a bad day. "Who are you?" He demanded. Bingo, he had a great voice. You quickly regained yourself. "Sorry if I scared you, but in my defense, I was already here taking a nap before you started playing," You explained. He stared at you for a moment like he was trying to figure out if you were lying. You shifted uncomfortably, wanting to look away from his intense stare. Oh no, you managed to make this awkward, didn't you?

His expression became softer after he saw your basket and not any traces of suspicion. "I see. I apologize for my attitude. I'm having kind of a bad day," He explained. Hah, you knew it. "No worries, not every day is a good day," You said. He chuckled, which sounded like a scoff. "Unless every day is a bad day," He muttered under his breath. You frowned when you heard that. He was probably having more than just a bad day. You could offer some comfort, but you didn't know him at all, so it's better to stay out of his personal business. Silence took over the atmosphere for a while.

"So... do you live around here? I heard you don't meet elves around these parts often," You asked. He looked at you, then chuckled. "Bold words from someone who lives in elven lands," He said with an amused tone. Was he making fun out of you? "Hey! I recently moved to a village around here. I haven't gotten time to learn anything," You defended yourself. "Oh really?" He questioned with a challenging look. "Yes," You answered. He stared at you for a moment before chuckling with a tiny smile. You crossed your arms and smiled along. His mood seemed to turn positive, which was a good sign.

"What's your name?" You asked, wanting to know. "How about you tell me your name first since I was the first one to ask," He said back. You rolled your eyes. "Okay. My name is (Name). May I ask what's your name?" You answered. He chuckled. "I don't think you want to know," He said. "And why is that?" You asked. This intrigues your curiosity. "Because when I tell my name, people tend to avoid having anything to do with me," He explained. That sounded a bit dark. Telling from the tone of his voice.

"Try me," You said. He glanced at you curiously. You got guts. "My name is Maglor from the house of Feanor," He waited for your reaction. "Cool," You casually said. Okay, not what he was expecting. He stared at you curiously.

You glanced at the sky and saw the sun descending on the horizon. "I need to go," You got up then picked up your basket. "I need to be back at home before my friend starts making dinner without me," You explained. "See you around, Maglor from the house of Feanor," You waved your goodbye then walked into the forest. Maglor watched as your figure disappeared into the forest. You were... interesting for a human. He glanced at the sunset, then sighed. He got up, holding his harp against his chest. He better go back too. He glanced at the forest you disappeared into. There was a very tiny chance you two would meet again, but for some reason, he had a tingle of hope that you would meet again. He was not sure why. Maybe because he had a normal conversation with someone that didn't include the drama of his family and the damn oath. He started to walk back to his brother's fortress. The sun finally settled down, making room for the moon and allowing Varda's starts to give light to the middle-earth.

[fakeloveaskblog]

Patty have you ever asked Janus to join for dinner when you meet him? Maybe that can somehow help Logan with his flirting? Or at least get Janus more relaxed?

(btw you're adorable ily!!)

(*cracks knuckles* Oh yeah baby we’ve gotten to the angst. Words: 2364 )

Patty: ": D Oh hello lil magical bird who just talked to me! I love you too!! I didn't want to barge in too much into their relationship but now when my honeypie has asked him out once already I guess I can help just a bit!"

Patty had sunglasses on to look like a secret agent. This was an important step in her plan, she swore on it. She sneaked into the open library while chuckling to herself.

She glanced around and almost immediately caught her eye on Janus standing in the reception. She did a few sneaky walks between the bookshelves before sliding up to him.

"Hello Janister!" She greeted with a bright smile while putting her elbows on the reception to lean closer.

"Hiya PatPat. Logan is off helping a customer but he'll be back soon"

"Oh silly I'm not looking for him right now. I am actually here to ask if you could come over to our place tonight. You see I'm planning on making Jambalaya but I always make too much! I'm talking leftovers up to the roof!! But if a third person was there maybe I would be able to make a perfect amount" She lied. She was making jambalaya for Janus purposes alone!

Janus' heartrate shot through the atmosphere "To- me?- your place?- tonight?- I uh- I don't know if I have time-"

She pouted and did her puppy eyes "You sure? You don't have to if you don't want to!! But it would be nice!"

He let out a happy sigh "Sure"

She took his hand and let out a sqeaul "aaah Great! It'll be so fun!!"

---

Logan was leaning down so Patty could help him with his bowtie. "Are you completely sure I look adequate?" He asked.

"Oh honeybee, You look super duper ultra adequate. You're literally wearing a sweater with a math pun on it!!"

"Hmm sound argument. I can not deny the sexiness of math puns"

A knock came on the door. The couple stared at each other. Logan stimmed out of nervousness. Patty gave him a quick kiss before pointing between him and the door. They did a good luck high five.

Logan combed his hair back and leaned on the wall to look cool as he opened the door. Janus stood on the other side looking like a sardine that had just been pressed into a can.

He had on a purple vest with embroidered flowers details and with a long sleeved black button up under. Also a very funky pair of stripped pants with even funkier yellow snake socks under.

"Greetings Jan. You are looking" Like a dream. Like someone he wanted to kiss right this moment. "Very good"

"Aww are you trying to be a snake charmer Log-boy" Janus replied with a smirk.

"I am not a log or a boy. I'm an adult man made out of meat"

"You better be because I'm starving" He had downed 2 shots of vodka before coming to try to and cool his extreme anxiety. He was a lightweight.

Logan lead him into the living room "Are....Are you implying cannibalism?"

Janus shrugged while smiling.

The apartement truly did look like a mismatch of the couple's personalities. The walls were filled with maps of constellations and uplifting cat posters. On the bookshelfs cook books and travel books were stacked next to thick philosophy books and essays. The decorations were either cute porcelain animals, magical anime girl figurines or figurines of characters from Lo's different hyperfixations. The sofa was filled with fluffy blankets and pillows and stuffies were scattered around the light blue carpet filling the living room.

“Do you want to watch star trek while eating?” Logan asked with a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“As long as I get to watch your beautiful face as well” Janus flirted back while doing an unsteady fingergun.

“Oh- Of course” His crush’s sudden forwardness was making his heart flutter.

Janus curled up in the corner of the couch, making himself as small as possible. Logan sat down pretty far away from him.

He started the first episode. Janus had a constant smile on his face as he listened to Logan go between telling him facts and gushing over his favorite moments. All while he could hear Patty in the kitchen half singing along to dad rock.

“Does she want help with that?” Janus, known gentleman and also nervous wreck, asked.

“She’ll tell us if she need it. She likes cooking. I like baking. It usually works out”

Janus got an amused look on his face “You’re into baking? So all those times at work when you brought desserts, that was your making?”

“Yes. And they were delicious. Anything wrong with that?”

“No. No. I simply didn’t take you for the type”

“Well cooking involves creativity and there’s room for your own ideas. Baking doesn’t. It is only about following a structure and doing kitchen chemistry. Of course I love it” He lowered his voice “It is also tremendously good for when you need to flirt without words”

“Oh really? I better start looking up recipes then” He pulled in Logan's bowtie “You have any favorites?” 

In his head he had the guts to say ‘Your lips against mine would be my favorite’ in reality he said “HehuHFKdjf jam drops in the shape of heart. The heart part is important. It adds to the taste”

“It usually does”

Janus slowly looked him up and down. And then he realized what the fuck he was doing. He shot back into his corner of the sofa like a naked rat. Logan sat still with blushing cheeks, staring at the tv but not taking in anything that was happening except his racing heart.

“Done!” Patty exclaimed, coming in with a big ass fucking pot of jambalaya and a just as big bottle of wine.

She saw the nervous state both of the guys were in and quickly made up a plan. She slammed the pot down onto the coffee table and moved the blankets so they took up about half of the couch. Then she sat down using up as much space as possible leaving the guys no choice but to move closer to each other, If both of them sat their hands down they would touch.

Patty cuddled up to her husband with a proud smile on her face. Logan moved his arm around her. 

“It looks great sweetheart” He pressed a kiss to her cheek making her giggle.

“So do you!! And so does mr. star trek captain man!”

 She enjoyed the hell out of her jambalaya while the two idiots sent each other awkward smiles. Janus downed his glass of wine in record speed. (He took it slower with the food, he didn’t want to seem disgusting). 

The whole star trek episode went by. Logan asked Janus a thousand excited questions about how much he liked it. All of his answers made the nerd happy stim. They put on a documentary none of them were really interested in the background while continuing to chat. Patty went on a long epic story about how a kid at her daycare had tried to bite her finger off last week.

“Soooo” Patty sudenly changed the topic. She said it with an innocent tone “My nerdy lil honeypie over here had the biggest crush on Data for a while. It was adorable. ANd while we’re on the topic” The look she gave Janus was happy but it still sent shivers down his spine “You having any crushes lately? Just curious!”

Both of the men internally gasped at the audacity. The gall! The sheer power!! Janus was sweating like a naked rat who had just been clad for the first time.

“...Well.......I have actually been meaning to....Ask about the polyamourous thing?” 

The couple exhanged knowing glances before looking back at him “Mhm yeah Mhm” “I am poly and also a thing so I am an expert in this”

“So...I totally haven’t fallen in love with 3 people. 2 of which I met in the span of around a week”

Patton did a double thumbs up. Logan took a long sip from his wine. “We’re all gossipy bitches here. Tell all about it”

“Well. The first one is Remy-”

“The one with the sunglasses?”

“...Yes...Are....Don’t tell me they’re a serial killer”

Patty broke up into a chuckle “Logie-bogie tried to kiss them while he was drunk once”

“I threw up on their shoes”

“He threw up on their shoes!”

Logan saw the terror in Janus’ face as he worried that maybe 2 of his crushes were exes and quickly added “We are only acquaintance and I was momentarily struck by the impressive lenght of their legs” 

Janus went on to gush about Remy and Remus. Why he loved them. All the dates he had daydreamed about. And then finally his voice was shaking when he mentioned just having a third crush.

Patty let out a long yawn before he could say anything more. She stood up “Well looks like it’s time to snooze! I assume 2 big burly ultra masculine men like you two can handle the dishes”

“It will be a challenge but we shall do our best. Goodnight honey” Logan kissed her.

She leaned in and whispered “Good luck Logie-bear! You got this”

She giggled mischievously while going off into the bedroom. She closed the door behind her. Only the two lovebirds were left now.

“So the third crush? Who’s the lucky gentleman?” Logan asked.

Janus held onto his newly refilled wine glass so hard it nearly cracked. He forced a smile “Wouldn’t you want to hear about the fake couples counseling I go to together with Remus instead?”

“Fake what now?”

“Well me and Remus, who I am hopelessly in love with even though he clearly doesn’t feel the same way, started going to a therapist pretending we were a couple to see how long it would take before he realized we didn’t know each other. He hasn’t realized anything yet. It’s great!”

It looked like Logan’s eyes was about to bulge out of his skull “That sounds illegal. It should be. You are dragging shame onto the face of psychology you double dumbass!”

“I have done nothing wrong ever in my entire life and frankly I deserve to waste even more therapist’s time” Janus replied.

He let out a deep sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose “Which therapist is it that you’re harassing exactly?”

“Dr. Picani”

Logan’s eyes widened and he shut his lips tightly “Emile Picani?”

“Yes.....Please don’t tell me he’s a serial killer”

He slowly looked away while taking a sip from his wine “I have had intercourse with that man”

Janus choked on his drink. He coughed while staring at his friend with wild eyes “YOU FUCKED MY THERAPIST????”

“No.......He fucked me” Logan replied in a quiet tone. “Besides he’s not even your real therapist”

“He is still a sort of therapist man to me! I told him I enjoy Lana Del Rey. That was a very intimate moment for me!”

“Well I had a very intimate moment with him too”

Janus looked at him with flushed cheeks and wide eyes. He let out a chuckle which turned into a laugh which turned into Logan not being able to not laugh along which turned into the room filling with nothing but flustered happiness and laughter.

Logan grabbed onto his crush’ arm just to have some contact with him while his eyes teared up from laughter. Janus leaned his head against his shoulder and curled up close to him while giggling so much his stomach hurt.

“Oh we’re idiots” Janus sighed.

“We are. We truly are”

They stayed sitting like that. So so close. Logan’s arm around him. Janus breathing being felt against the other man’s skin. Their hands touching. Only comfortable silence surrounded them.

A few minutes went by. Janus looked at him shuly. His thoughts worrying about everything and anything “Should we- ehm- the dishes?”

The moment broke. Logan moved away before standing up “I uh yeah- we should”

It was strange. Just dishing together with his crush made Logan happy. All he could think about was getting to be this close, this domestic, with him every day. Getting to wake up next to him. Kiss his knuckles. Share a morning with him.

“Who was the third crush by the way?” Logan asked, glancing over at his crush.

Janus stared down into the water “I- I can’t say it”

“Understandable”

He stopped and turned fully to look at Janus. He had never been more unsure of where to put his hands before.

“Well I can...Say it I mean....I....I...Janus.....You make me happy just by being near me...You are so wonderful...I....I love you”

Logan couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He took a step forward and cupped Janus’ cheeks. He leaned forward, so close, so close that their noses and foreheads were pressed against each other. It felt like had been starving for this.

Janus froze. His wide eyes stared in shock at the other man. His hand moved up to his chest on instinct, to try and push him away.

Logan noticed his reaction. Of course he did. It was blindingly obvious. He forced himself to move away. He forced the desire to kiss him to simmer out.

“I-I’m sorry-” He mumbled out.

“No....Lo..” Janus took his hand. Holding it so so lightly in his own “I know” He looked up at him “I know. I’m sorry. I should go”

A horrible feeling of guilt filled Logan’s throat “You don’t have to” 

“I should go” He repeated, letting go of his hand.

Logan walked after him as he went to get his jacket “A date. Do you want to go on a date? Not just a hangout. Janus I- I want so badly to be close to you. We could go to the zoo, look at the snakes?”

Janus held his hand on the handle of the door. He didn’t look at Logan “Thanks for having me over”

He left. Logan stood alone in the hallway. His arms hanging helplessly at his sides.

[lupinsx]

Jealousy

masterlist

Request: Could you do a draco x reader wherein she’s a close friend in their slytherin group (since she’s in slytherin + pure blood) but then she starts talking and getting close to Cedric which makes Draco super jealous but the only reason why she’s close with Cedric now is because she needs advice from him in order to confess her feelings for draco

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader

Summary: While Y/N seeks advice from Cedric on how to confess, Draco feels unnerved by their apparent budding romance. 

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: A frustrating amount of and misunderstandings (plus a kiss at the end).

a/n — Whew, this was my longest one-shot so far, but also my favourite! I feel like I really outdid myself 😅 The request was so cute, I hope you all enjoy reading this!

tags: @obsessedwithrandomthings

*contact me if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

——————————

Draco Malfoy had always been the one to catch your attention.

Whether it be when you'd both find yourselves in the middle of the Slytherin common room, take a passing glance in the hallway, or even coexist in the Great Hall during mealtimes; he would always reside in the corner of your vision, maintaining permanent tenancy in your thoughts.

It was always the same case. No different after this particular Herbology lecture either.

"Merlin, who decided to make gardening mandatory?" spoke the irritated voice of Theodore Nott. The rest of the group groaned in agreement, the hatred of the class being especially mutual.

You were just dismissed from Herbology, the last class of the day, and was now walking alongside the rest of your Slytherin friends. The group consisted of a handful of fourth years—Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Daphne Greengrass, you, and Draco Malfoy. The six of you became inseparable after mere introductions before the sorting; the friendship is still running strong today.

"Cut it some slack," you drawled with a playful grin. "Having a trivial class amidst our schedule does provide a decent release.”

Letting out a mocking chuckle, Pansy nodded. "That's true. Even an eight-year-old wouldn't find Herbology mentally strenuous. It's just playing with plants.”

"And that's why no right-minded student would willingly choose it if presented the choice," Blaise added with a scowl.

While the group continued to slam the class they were just in, you halted your words upon the sight of a familiar sixth year, head peeking out amongst the crowd of shorter kids. Jogging slightly ahead, you crashed into said student with a bone-crushing hug.

"Cedric!" you exclaimed with a relieving smile. He returned the hug with an arm lazily draped across your upper back, inciting a subtle response from a boy standing nearby.

Draco couldn't help but roll his eyes at the sight of Cedric Diggory. Lately, he seemed to be the only person you associate with outside of the group. Unfortunately, you being friendly with certain males was a recipe for a jealous Draco. And Cedric most definitely counted as one of those males.

"Hey kiddo," Cedric replied, ruffling your hair with his free hand before pulling away from the embrace. A faint gag-like noise can be heard from the group, though it ultimately went unnoticed by you.

Lowering your voice to a level audible only to Cedric, you hissed, "I need to talk to you."

"Of course," he mumbled in response before looking to the group of Slytherins with a sheepish grin. Before speaking, Cedric slung an arm over your shoulder.

"Hey, do you guys mind if I steal Y/N for a moment?"

With a harsh sneer, Draco crossed his arms and diverted his eyes from the pair. "She's all yours."

The hasty response enkindled a sense of dejection in your heart. He seemed far too eager to get rid of your presence, though you ignored the prospect of this purely being you overthinking.

"Alright then," you said with a slight stammer. Looking to Cedric before heading off, you added, "I'll see you guys later."

Upon the pair's departure, an ill-tempered expression found its way onto Draco's inscrutable countenance. He released his held arms and let out a loud scoff. It was then when the rest of the group took notice of his visible annoyance.

"What's getting you all cross?" Daphne joked as she landed a harsh pat onto Draco's back. "Is it a certain someone? Or certain people?"

A chorus of ooh's followed as Draco turned away in an attempt to conceal his increasingly red face. Clearing his throat, he adjusted his bag strap before addressing the group.

"I'm gonna rest at the dorm," he lied before abruptly taking off, his speed preventing any responses from being made. Rather than heading to the common room, he instead chose to wander around the hallways. Draco needed to clear his head alone, or else his mind would be consumed with the various what-if's appearing whenever you'd leave with Cedric.

Draco was never one to be jealous. He had always been too absorbed in himself to think quite highly of another. It was only until this year when you had become close with one of the esteemed Hogwarts champions that his self-image no longer feels as superlative.

After all, he had always felt prideful of how someone of your intelligence and grandeur paid attention to him. The mere fact that you choose to associate with Draco, even if it's amongst a group, filled him with joy. But when this widely praised Hufflepuff came into the picture, he couldn't help but feel jealous at the thought of someone else making you happy.

He wanted to be the one that makes you laugh. The person responsible for your gleeful expressions and carelessly wide grins.

But how could he when Cedric had now captured your gaze?

Little did Draco know, he couldn't be further from the truth. He had consumed your head to the point of needing a verbal release, and that's exactly why Cedric came into the picture.

"I wish you had seen the way he handled the Mandrake! His face in those earmuffs was too adorable," you cried from within your palms, face buried in it as you swung your legs back and forth.

You were currently in the library, perched on top of a table as you ranted to the boy seated in front of you. The topic at hand was the usual one, being Draco Malfoy and how utterly amazing he is to you.

“I can imagine,” Cedric replied in a sarcastic tone, chuckling at your love-struck nature.

You lightly slapped his arm. “Don’t make fun of me! You don’t know how hard it is to pay attention in class when he is sitting five feet away.”

“But are you ever gonna tell him that?”

“That won’t be necessary.” You were quick to reject his proposal. It wasn’t the first time Cedric suggested coming clean to Draco about your feelings for him, but it certainly won’t be the last you turn it down simply out of fear. Only if you deem a positive reaction at least 70% likely you will attempt a confession, but until then, you were content with concealing your true thoughts.

Unfortunately, your hasty response caught the attention of Madam Pince, who glared at you two disapprovingly. “Silence. The library is not a place for conversation.”

With a sheepish look, you both stood up to leave. “Sorry, Madam Pince.”

Exiting the library, you and Cedric simply ambled along the deserted corridor, conversing mindlessly about Draco’s soft hair and the Triwizard Tournament. Somewhere along, the Yule Ball was brought up, inciting a small blush on your cheeks.

“You’re gonna ask Draco, right?” Cedric asked with an enthusiastic tone, giving a playful nudge. You offered merely a tentative shrug in response.

“I really want to but... what if he doesn’t agree? What if someone else already asked and he said yes? Or what if he’s waiting for someone else to ask—”

Putting a finger to your lips to halt your words, he gave your shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “Don’t overthink it, he’d be an idiot to say no to you.”

His words proved to be only slightly comforting as you stammered, “But there are too many factors involved; I’m just not ready! How would I even ask him to the ball? How would I know what to say?”

“With practice, of course.”

Cedric grabbed your arms, repositioning your body to face him in the middle of the hallway. He then released your frame and clasped his hands. “There. Pretend I’m Draco. Now tell me how you feel and ask me to the Yule Ball.”

You glanced at him hesitantly for a moment but then eased up after he flashed you a wide grin. “Alright. So uh, hello Draco. I have something to say to you.”

Without you two knowing, the real Draco had just turned the corner, entering the hallway in which you two occupied. Upon seeing the tense atmosphere, he merely stood back, subtly hiding behind the wall in curiosity of what’s being said.

“Yes, Y/N?”

With one large intake of air, you spoke quickly before your mind could second-guess the words being said. “I like you. A lot.”

While Cedric smiled proudly at your confidence, Draco froze in his position. He had always suspected your feelings for the Hogwarts champion, but for you to boldly confess was beyond his predictions. He couldn’t ignore the pangs in his chest following his what-if’s being confirmed right in front of his eyes.

Cedric wanted you to feel assured with what you’re doing, so without any hesitancy, he played along. “I like you too, Y/N. A lot.”

Strangely enough, despite knowing this was a fake confession, you felt mildly relieved. Almost ready for the actual confession with Draco. With a small smile, you continued the practice. “On that note, I was wondering if you’d like to accompany me to the Yule Ball? I mean, it’s alright if you say no—”

Cedric grabbed your wrist, interrupting you with an encouraging grin. “It’s alright. Yes, I’ll go with you.”

You nearly leaped into his arms, hugging him tightly. “Thank you,” you mumbled under your breath, referring to his help in building up your courage. However, it wasn’t interpreted similarly with the boy spying nearby.

Draco’s breath was hitched in his throat as he watched the encounter. His heart only seemed to drop lower with every word, officially crashing upon sight of the intimacy at the end. Of course, he thought to himself in despondency. Of course, she picks him.

He clenched his fist, jealousy coursing through his veins. In an attempt to shield himself from further pain, he walked away, mind and legs set on getting out of the castle immediately.

Though amidst his internal agony, he forgot one small detail; you and Cedric stood merely a few feet away. Draco was quick to realize when he accidentally walked past you two conspicuously.

“Oh, Draco?”

The said boy paused in his steps, cringing at his own dull-witted mistake. Turning on his heel, he flashed a fake smile towards you two.

“Hey,” Draco drawled in an awkward tone, eyes moving anywhere but where you stood. While you appeared positively delighted by his presence, Cedric merely scrutinized his countenance.

“Where are you headed?” you asked, feigning nonchalance to mask your flustered state. However, Draco’s uninterested look and dull tone threw you off.

“Dorms,” he simply replied.

You frowned at his indifference, though tried to brush it off in an attempt to recall Cedric’s words. He had told you not to overthink things, so you weren’t planning on doing so. “Great! I was gonna go there too, wanna walk together?”

It was a bold move on your part. You almost never approached Draco outside of a group setting, so the gesture earned a surprised but pleased glance from your friend. Draco scowled at the sight of Cedric eyeing you, finding his anger rising to the surface once more.

“Actually, I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” And with that, Draco left in hasty steps. He needed to properly clear his head. The first attempt ultimately failed, aiding in his budding jealousy, but another try must be made in order for him to sleep that night without drowning in thoughts of inflicting pain on that Cedric Diggory.

As you watched your longtime crush curve your suggestion with a great deal of speed, you felt the small bit of courage gained crumble down inside you, leaving only a lump of misery residing where the hope had previously been.

“Y/N—” Cedric’s attempt at comforting you was cut short when you immediately turned away, trying to reach your room before you could burst into tears. While he watched your slouched figure make its way towards the Slytherin common room, he couldn’t help but dwell over a particular observation, inciting hope inside him for his dejected friend.

Was that jealousy I saw on Draco?

~~~

The next day, you found yourself indifferent towards the previous night's events. You chose to accept the supposed truth of Draco simply not being into you. Being friends with him was enough, you would tell yourself. As long as you get to see him every day, admiring in secret was enough.

“I wanna go to bed already,” you heard Pansy whine amongst the various other noises filling the Great Hall. Breakfast was nearly over, and the group was just finishing up their meals before getting ready for class.

“Doesn’t everyone?” you interjected with a small chuckle, scarfing down the rest of your toast.

As the six of you prepared to head out at the sound of the bell, a presence made itself known in front of you. They initially went unnoticed, until the absence of chatter and the clearing of a throat brought you back to reality.

Stood in front of the Slytherin Table was Cedric Diggory, his signature smile painted onto his face as he clutched his bag strap. His appearance in this area of the dining hall earned him some contemptuous glares from the Slytherins, though you disregarded their looks as you offered a brief side hug.

“Cedric? Don’t you have class?” you asked, curious at his sudden arrival. Ensuring a particular platinum-haired boy was watching, he wrapped an arm around your waist and brought you closer to him.

“Play along, I’m doing this for you,” he hastily whispered, leaning down to speak in your ear. He then pulled his face back before speaking in a tone audible for the group nearby. “Is it bad that I wanted to see you once more? Let me walk you to class.”

You both internally cringed at his loving tone, but a stronger reaction was visible with Draco instead. He was quick to step forward and interrupt the moment.

“Actually, I was going to take her.”

While your eyes widened in surprise, Cedric merely smirked and took a step back. “Well then, I wouldn’t want to steal her away,” he said before heading to the Hufflepuff table, pride laced through his steps. It was at that moment when you understood why he initiated the contact.

That sly bastard.

Before any of Slytherins could follow along, before you could pipe up with an objection, and before Draco can begin questioning where in the hell the sudden confidence came from, he grabbed your wrist and took off. It was an amusing attempt at a romantic stroll, really.

Still, you found yourself blushing like a young schoolgirl. Even if he was practically dragging you down the hall, your rose-coloured lens saw the beauty in such intimacy. If your brain wasn't preoccupied with the reason behind it, you might have been more of a nervous wreck.

For starters, why had he even suggested this? How had Cedric's half-assed attempt at invoking jealousy miraculously work?

You ultimately decided to put aside the questioning thoughts for a moment and savour the physical contact. Draco was beginning to slow his pace to a calming saunter, presumably noticing the speed and manner in which he walked you with. With a subtle gesture, he dropped the hand enclosing your wrist to meet your palm instead, staring off nonchalantly as he did so.

It seemed at that moment, a swarm of bees erupted from the deepest corners of your heart.

Draco felt a similar sensation, being a thousand fireworks going off at once inside of him. Such an insignificant gesture, merely shifting his hand an inch lower to meet yours, yet it meant the world to you both. Embarrassingly enough, neither could remain eye contact throughout the remainder of the stroll.

When the Transfiguration class came into view and Draco stopped in his track, you felt your reverie shatter in an abrupt motion. He glanced towards you, tentatively releasing your grip.

Upon the lack of touch, you found yourself regaining consciousness, consequentially resuming your overthinking. Rather than waiting for him to speak, you chose to assume his negative response and leave to preserve your emotions early.

Thus, without offering another glance, you entered the classroom and strode towards your desk.

Leaving a certain platinum-haired boy behind, wondering what he did wrong to cause such repulsion.

"Settle down, class," spoke the authoritative voice of Professor McGonagall.

Throughout the lesson, you had your mind running in various different directions. Part of you wished to continue swooning over Draco and how he held your hand, while the other part dwelled over his hesitancy at the end, likely meaning he regretted what he had done. It made sense to you that he would.

Meanwhile, Draco felt bad about how quickly you left once he released your hand. Maybe she just wanted Cedric to walk her, he thought to himself sadly. Maybe I was just interfering.

Oh, how thoroughly incorrect they both were.

By the end of class, you wanted to approach the matter one last time and ask Draco whether he truly felt regret rather than bawl over mere possibilities.

As the rest of the class filed out, leaving only you and Draco remaining, you slowly walked up to him. He had his face pointed down as he shoved the books into his bag messily. By the time you had reached close enough to begin speaking, he simply slung his bag over his shoulder and left the classroom with hardly any time to spare.

He just walked off, very much aware of your presence.

And somewhere in Draco's twisted little mind, he thought he was doing the right thing. By evading confrontation, he wouldn't have to hear you openly reject him, and you could be happy with Cedric.

He wouldn't be interfering that way. It was for the best.

Though you both tried to empathize with the situation, neither managed to avoid the tears by the end of the day.

~~~ 

The last three days had been excruciating for you, mentally and emotionally. You wanted to brush past the incident as you did the day before, but it somehow hurt more this time. You felt mildly confident after the stroll and hand-holding gesture, but him proceeding to ignore you shortly afterwards shattered all remaining bits of hope.

You wanted to get over it. You wanted to get over him. But you didn’t know how.

It was currently late in the evening, and the Slytherin common room appeared to be deserted. You intended to take a minor detour from the dorms, instead seeking your friend in order to clear your head. Swiftly, you made your way down the stairs, checking for any wandering students.

After you deemed it safe to exit, you approached the portrait hole with furtive steps. Though very quickly, you found your inspection to be flawed.

“Y/N?”

“Damn it,” you muttered under your breath before glancing up slowly. Your face held a sheepish sort of surprise at the presence of another in the common room.

Once the figure came into view, you were startled by the sight of Draco Malfoy, eye-bags prominent amidst his sickly pale face. You hadn’t seen him often since that lesson. He would rarely attend mealtimes, or appear for five minutes whenever he would. The majority of shared classes he had ditched, miraculously coming down with a cold before each one. The entire group was beginning to feel quite worried—you included.

“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice small and timid. It no longer held the same imposing and prideful aura you had always admired.

Clearing your throat, you looked to your feet as you spoke. “To see Cedric.”

That line seemed to hit a nerve within Draco, because the moment the name left your lips, his face twisted into a scowl. Upon tilting your head back up, you were met with his ill-tempered expression.

“Draco? What’s the matter?” you stammered. Ignoring your question, he ran his fingers through his hair and tugged on them with frustration.  Draco then looked to you with desperation pouring through his silver-tinted eyes.

“What does he have that I don’t?”

You merely stared at him in response, blinking with confusion. As he glanced at you expectantly, you found it hard to produce the words in your throat.

“Well? What is it?” he pressed further, taking a step in your direction before continuing. 

“Is it the fact that he’s the esteemed Hogwarts champion? His popularity? His looks? What made you fall for him,” Draco paused for a moment, lowering his voice to a shaky whisper, “and not me?”

You never caught that last part, so instead, you waved your hands to shut down the assumptions. “Me and Cedric, we are just friends—”

“Oh, bullshit.”

“Bullshit? How can you be so sure?”

“Because I saw you confess,” he snapped. The area went quiet for a moment, Draco attempting to calm himself back down, while you were left stunned. “And I saw you ask him to the Yule Ball. Friends don’t do that.”

After rummaging your mind for any instance he might be referring to, you suddenly recalled the practice confession a couple of days ago. It didn’t take long for you to connect the dots and realize Draco appeared in front of you right after the profession was over.

“Draco, you have the wrong idea. What you heard back there— I wasn’t confessing to him.” Draco held a look of disbelief, which was understandable given what a wild claim it was. It did look exactly what Draco was thinking. You knew the only way to convince him was to divulge what really went down.

“Then what was it?” he prompted with a dry chuckle.

“He was helping me practice what to say to you!”

“Say to me? What do you mean—” Draco paused, his eyes widening upon realizing your words. You took the silence as a gesture to continue.

“Draco, I like you. A lot.”

And once again, the room went quiet. His lips parted, words stuck in the back of his throat. The cherry shade washed over his cheeks went unseen under the dim lighting. You simply stood in front of him, rocking on your heel as you await a reply.

After what felt like an hour of pure silence, you decided to follow through with what was planned days before. With Cedric’s encouragement in mind, you took a deep breath. “And I was wondering if you’d like to go to the Yule Ball with me?”

Draco’s eyes became impossibly wider, and without uttering a single word, he nodded ever so slightly. The shock was still evident on his face as he did so.

“Actually? You will?” you asked, jubilation apparent in your tone. Until your expression faltered, and you began doubting yourself and his agreement. “Wait, do you truly want to go? You know, you don’t have to agree out of pity—”

Before you could continue rambling on, the soundless boy halted your words with a swift motion, connecting your lips with his. 

The abrupt kiss had rendered you frozen, eyes squeezed shut in complete surprise. It was only when you felt his cold fingers brush over the exposed skin on your waist that your nerves sprang back to life, and you began kissing back with equal fervour.

You felt the urgency in the way Draco had kissed you. The desperation, as if the moment he’s let go, you would be with Cedric and he would be crying alone in the common room. He wanted to savour this before it would all come crumbling down, because he genuinely believed that it all would at the end.

Until you pulled away, and expecting the worse, he was met with an airy chuckle erupting from the base of your throat. It was quite possibly the most delightful sound he had ever heard.

“You’d really go with me?” you said under your breath, a wide grin still painted on your face as Draco kept his grip around your waist.

Planting a small peck on your forehead, he reassured, “Of course I will. What more would I ever want?”

The rest of the evening was spent within each other’s grasp, feelings of security and comfort prevalent throughout the tranquil night. Worries from the days before had slipped your minds; all that remained was thoughts of one another.

And nothing else can get in the way.

——————————

a/n — And there you have it! Thanks for reading 💞 Please like, comment, and reblog to show support! Feel free to send requests or feedback in my asks.

[justlookfrightened]

4, 5, or 35 ? Because I’m indecisive as hell and love your writing.

From this prompt list: 4. “If I die, I’m haunting you first.”; 5. “But I’ve never told you that before.” ; and 35.  “Oh honey, I’d never be jealous of you.”

Bitty played hockey and Samwell and went on to be a cookbook author; Jack went directly into the NHL.

Bitty’s eyes traveled up the the shelves of the cupboard, wondering what ingredients he could reasonably expect someone who did not cook or bake for a living to have.

Flour, of course, if they were volunteering to be on a baking show. Most likely all purpose. Sugar (white) and salt (iodized). Butter. Maybe they usually used margarine, but Bitty would not compromise on that. Butter surely counted as a common ingredient. Shortening, too.

What about spices? Most people probably had cinnamon in their cabinets, even if it was twelve years old and devoid of flavor. Would nutmeg or allspice be too much? Maybe.

And this contestant had requested a fruit pie. If they were going for common ingredients, that would most likely mean apple. Apples were nearly always plentiful and cheap at supermarkets, so if this pie was going to use fresh fruit (and it was), it would be apple.

*

Bitty had misgivings about appearing on “So You Think You Can Bake,” the new Food Network show that pitted expert bakers against celebrities. The idea was that the expert would develop a recipe they thought was suitable for an inexperienced home cook.

Then the expert and the celebrity would both make the dish in separate kitchens while being filmed. 

The expert baker and celebrity contestant would have their creations scored anonymously. If the celebrity chef received at least eighty percent of the score of the celebrity baker, they won money for the baker to keep and the celebrity to donate to charity. Total scores counted toward the final competition at season’s end, when the three best pairs would be brought back for the final, competing for a $50,0000 prize.

There were so many things that could go wrong. Bitty could get paired with a celebrity chef with no palate, or no coordination, or even no real interest in winning. Some people could mess up a perfectly good recipe by not measuring accurately, or doing steps in the wrong order, or even mistaking the salt for the sugar. If the celebrity chef messed up, it wouldn’t just look bad for them. It would throw shade on Bitty, whose job, after all, was to explain how to bake in a way that people would understand. Relatable was his brand.

But Eileen, the PR rep who handled his books for the publishing house, thought it would be a good idea.

“This show is literally made for you,” she said. “And the exposure would be great. Think of the campaign for your next book.”

So Bitty agreed. Then he found out who his assigned celebrity was.

“A hockey player?” Bitty asked. “Whose only memorable sound bite is ‘Eat more protein’? Which did not go viral for the reasons he thinks it did. I mean, I wasn’t expecting Beyonce, or even Taylor Swift, but why not a Kacey Musgraves?”

Bitty wasn’t at all bitter that, at 24, he no longer had regular access to an ice rink. He could pay to rent ice to figure skate, but it was hard to find the motivation since he was no longer in competition, and he hadn’t yet found a men’s league hockey team where he felt comfortable.

“I know Jack Zimmermann isn’t who most people think of as a home cook,” Eileen said. “But the producers were thrilled. They think he’ll bring on a whole new demographic.”

“How’d they rope him into it anyway?” Bitty asked, scrolling through interview after interview with Jack talking saying, “We win and lose as a team,” and “We have to protect the neutral zone and get the puck down low,” and “We need to keep our feet moving and have a shoot-first mentality.”

It was like they taught him six phrases in media training and he used them over and over again, in random order.

He wasn’t hard to look at, Bitty would give him that. And the physique -- yeah, his nutrition plan was definitely protein-heavy. Why would he agree to do a baking show? 

*

“My agent said it would be a good idea,” Jack Zimmermann said when he and Bitty had their first meeting. “He said it would humanize me. Actually, he said it would be the beginning of an arc of character development I wasn’t expecting, but that’s just the way he is.”

The actual first meeting was in the green room, waiting to go on-set for the “first meeting” taping. Jack had been sitting in a chair along the wall when Bitty came in, reading an actual, honest-to-God book.

Bitty had to shove his phone in his pocket as he cleared his throat to get Jack’s attention. It seemed like Jack kept reading for a few seconds after he noticed Bitty, which was annoying, because the book would always be there, but Bitty was prepared to be gracious.

“Mr. Zimmermann? I’m Eric Bittle,” Bitty said. “We’re going to be working together. Pleased to meet you.”

“I know,” Jack said. 

Okay. 

“When we start the taping, I’m going to ask you about any experience you have baking, any favorite desserts, things you’ve always wanted to learn to make,” Bitty said. “Anything you want me to steer the conversation toward? Or stay away from?”

“Are we supposed to be doing this?” Jack said. “Talking, I mean.”

“Um, yes?” Bitty said. “It’s not like we’re concocting a fake story. We just want the on-camera talk to go smoothly. So have you baked before?”

“No.”

“Any favorite desserts?”

“I don’t really eat sweets.”

“Well, you’re going to have to eat something sweet,” Bitty said. “Anything you want to make?”

Jack shrugged.

“Honey, don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you here?” Bitty asked.

“Uh, you can call me Jack,” Jack said, then launched into his explanation about his agent, a man with the improbable name of John Johnson.

Bitty shook his head at that, and tried to keep the conversation going.

“You’re Canadian, right?” 

“Dual citizenship,” Jack said. “But I mostly grew up in Montreal.”

“Anything special from back home?”

Then the assistant came to bring them on the set, dressed to look like a home kitchen, each of them seated at a table with mugs in front of them. The mugs just held water, but the audience wouldn’t see that; it was supposed to look like two friends talking over coffee.

Bitty decided to pick up the conversation where he left off in the green room, since it was the only thing he hadn’t struck out on already.

“So, Jack, I understand you’re from Montreal. Do have any memories of classic desserts or baked goods from your childhood?”

Jack paused and looked like he was really thinking, like he didn’t want to disappoint the producers.

“We used to have tarte au sucre at the holidays,” he finally said. “I liked that.”

“Sugar pie?” Bitty said, thankful that at least the cooking terms had stuck from his college French class. “We could do something with that.”

“But I’d like to do something that has some healthy ingredients,” Jack had said. 

“Is fruit healthy enough?” Bitty asked. “Maybe a fruit pie? You might not know this, but that’s kind of my specialty.”

Jack had offered a smile at that, and said, “Good to know. Maybe we can win this thing, eh?”

The taping didn’t last long, and soon Bitty was collecting his things from the green room.

“Wait, Jack, I forgot to ask you, any allergies? I wouldn’t want to kill you for a silly TV show.”

“If I die, I’m haunting you first,” Jack said. “But no, no food allergies. Is there anything I should practice beforehand?”

“I don’t think I’m allowed to tell you that,” Bitty said, starting to feel like maybe Jack wasn’t as wooden as he’d seemed at first. He seemed to relax once the taping ended. Maybe this would be okay after all.

*

Bitty started by making an apple pie, trying to write down the steps as precisely as he could just as he did them.

It didn’t work.

Sure, he could measure and mix the dry ingredients for the crust, and tell Jack to make sure his butter and shortening were cold, but how could he explain the twisting motion for the pastry cutter? When he had to start by explaining what a pastry cutter was? 

And how would Jack know when he was done cutting and should add the ice water? Bitty had read recipes over the years saying the mixture should look like everything from rough crumbs to small peas … which were not the same thing by a long shot. Bitty had learned what it should look like at his MooMaw’s elbow; sure, he’d tried to put it into words in his cookbooks, but there was a reason he always included photos.

Jack had said he’d never baked. He wouldn’t know what it should look like.

Bitty called the producers to ask if he could include pictures in the recipe he developed for Jack.  The answer -- hand-drawn sketches were fine, as long he drew them himself, but no photographs -- was not encouraging.

Bitty started over and this time took a photograph of the dough mixture just before he added the water. He could use that  to write a description, he decided. Then he had to think about how to explain when the dough was wet enough.

Once he had the dough made, the process for making the filling was easier. Peel and slice apples, coat with flour and a little cinnamon and sugar -- and, a last-minute brainstorm for Canadian Jack, a little maple syrup -- and set aside. He toyed with the idea of including maple sugar for the crust, but the studio pantry probably didn’t have real maple sugar. He could boil some syrup down -- but that wasn’t something Jack could (or would) do, probably. Better to just do an egg wash and sprinkle some sugar on for the sparkle.

The instructions for rolling out the dough were simple enough, provided Jack followed them. That was the hard part. Most people couldn’t seem to leave well enough alone with pie dough.

Bitty moved to his laptop and wrote at the top of the instructions:

“A general note on making pie dough. Do less than you think you need to. Don’t work it too much. If you do, it will be tough. So if you’re not sure if you should stop messing with it, stop.”

Then he did his best to put into words what it should like with all the fats cut in (“If you don’t see any powdery flour, it’s probably good”) and with the ice water added (“It should be moist, not wet”).

Then he thought about the top. Normally, people thought of lattices as being hard to do. But if the baker was methodical and followed directions, it wasn’t so bad. And it would be easier to put strips on top of the pie than to pick up the whole top crust and put it on intact. It didn’t really matter if the bottom was a mess; this wasn’t the Great British Bake-Off with Mary Berry and her hatred of soggy bottoms. The pie would be served from the dish, and no one would know if the bottom crust was torn and mended as long it still tasted good.

So, a nice, tightly woven lattice for the top. Bitty set to drawing a detailed diagram.

*

Bitty printed the recipe he developed -- all ten pages -- to bring with him and hand to Jack. He’d already supplied it to the producers to make sure they agreed all the ingredients were things a home cook would have in their pantry, or at least have ready access to.

“Real maple syrup?” the production assistant had asked. “What about something like Pillsbury pancake syrup? That’s what most people use.”

“My baker is Canadian,” Bitty argued. “He’d have the real stuff.”

“Fine, I guess.”

Bitty was dressed for TV in dark skinny jeans, a light T-shirt and a Samwell red button-down over it with red Chuck Taylors. The provided apron, he knew, would be beige with a dark red logo.

Jack came in dressed in charcoal gray tailored slacks and a light blue shirt, almost exactly the same color as his eyes. Yeah, he was good-looking. Bitty wasn’t sure if he would bring in the sports-loving young men the producers were hoping for, but it wouldn’t matter. The women would love him. And the gay boys like him. But no one ever counted them as their own demographic.

When the got into the studio, Bitty handed over the recipe.

Jack’s eyes widened when he saw how long it was.

“Does this take all day?” he asked.

“I can do it in about two hours,” Bitty said. “Counting chilling and baking time.”

“You’ll have three hours to complete the challenge,” the host said. “As long as you finish in that time, any differential in how long it takes won’t count against you.

Jack nodded, a determined set to his jaw. Bitty was almost glad they would be separated so he didn’t have to worry about cutting himself on that jawline.

Then Bitty was escorted to his studio kitchen, where he proceeded to make a pie, narrating each step, just like he was making a vlog post.

He made sure to turn the top of the bowl to the camera when he was done cutting the fats in, and again when he added the water. 

“You see those streaks of butter and shortening?” he said, when he gathered the dough into disks to chill. “You want those to make flaky crust.”

He made sure to slice the apples evenly, and mix them gently with the flour and flavorings, then he rolled his dough out.

He clucked at himself -- but didn’t say anything -- when he realized he’d forgotten to tell Jack to make sure he had the thinnest possible layer of fat on his work surface before he scattered flour over it.

Then, once the pie was done, he actually slapped himself upside the head.

“I never said anything about covering the edges with foil at the beginning,” he said. “Poor guy is definitely gonna have burnt edges. Oh well.”

Bitty’s pie came out of the oven at the two-hour mark, and he donned oven mitts to be filmed carrying it into the judging room.

“You’ve got some time if you want to head to the green room relax,” the production assistant said. “Someone will come get you before Jack is ready to bring his pie in.”

Bitty flung himself onto the couch and groaned. He could have used the $5,000 prize from this stage of the competition to get ahead on his rent for a couple of months … and maybe even rent an ice rink for a couple of hours to clear his mind. He didn’t regret his choice of career -- writing cookbooks, running his vlog, making appearances like this -- but the money tended to come in fits and starts.

He realized he’d never even asked Jack what his charity was. The show must have asked him at some point, so Bitty was sure he’d find out eventually. He hoped Jack would donate to his chosen charity regardless. He could certainly afford it. The only real advantage for the charity to having Jack appear on the show was publicity. Well, and convincing people that straight, athletic young men could bake and enjoy it.

But Bitty forgot to tell him to use foil to guard the edges, so they probably wouldn’t advance, and it would all be Bitty’s fault. Jack -- he had to be competitive, right? -- well, it didn’t matter if hated Bitty. They hardly knew one another. 

*

“Eric? Jack’s pie is done. Time to go to the judging room.”

Bitty roused himself from the sofa, resigned to his fate. If nothing else, he’d learned a lesson.

He took his place behind his pie and waited for Jack and his pie with its inevitable burnt edges.

He was sitting there when Jack came in, carrying his beautiful golden brown pie aloft. Jack set it on the empty cooling rack next to Bitty’s and stepped back.

It was beautiful. The lattice was maybe not quite as straight, not quite as even as Bitty’s, but it was close.

Bitty couldn’t help a pleased grin, first at the pie, then at Jack, who had finished with fifteen minutes to spare.

“Okay, you two. We’re going to break for lunch while Jack’s pie cools,” the production assistant said. “We need you back in an hour in the same clothes, so don’t mess them up.”

Bitty was about to head out when Jack said, “Want to grab a sandwich? There’s a place down the block.”

“Sure,” Bitty said. “I have some questions for you.”

“And me for you,” Jack said.

Once they had their food and settled at a table, Bitty said, “How did you keep the edges from burning?”

“I made foil collars,” Jack said.

“But I’ve never told you that before,” Bitty said.

“You always do it on your YouTube channel,” Jack said.

“Wait … you’ve seen … but you said you’d never baked,” Bitty said. 

“I hadn’t,” Jack said. “That doesn’t mean I’ve never watched anyone else bake on YouTube. When Johnson said you were doing this, it seemed like a good opportunity to meet you.”

“To meet me?” Bitty really had to start thinking of some of his own words instead of just repeating Jack’s.

“Well, yeah,” Jack said. “Someone showed me your videos when you were at Samwell, and I was intrigued by a hockey player who baked. Made me wonder what it would have been like to be on a college team, or whether I’d develop any other interests.”

“Someone?”

Jack actually blushed. “My mother. She went to Samwell.”

It was almost a physical effort for Bitty to push that out of his head. Jack’s mother was … nope. Not going there.

“So you wanted to make pie because you’d see me make it before?” 

“A lot,” Jack said. “But the instructions were really helpful.”

“I thought we’d lost it when I realized I’d never said anything about the foil,” Bitty admitted.

“But I figured you could make a donation to your charity anyway.”

Jack nodded.

“I plan on adding to it even if we win,” he said. “What do you want to do with the money? Bitty was not going to tell Jack Zimmermann that he needed money to pay his rent. Not this unexpected Jack Zimmermann, who for some reason had been interested in Bitty for years. Despite, Bitty reminded himself, being straight. Almost certainly.

“Some of it will buy ice time,” he said. “I miss skating, you know? I used to figure skate before I played hockey.”

“I’m not sure what I’d do if I couldn’t skate every day,” Jack said. “Sorry, maybe I shouldn’t say that. Don’t want to make you jealous.”

“Oh honey, I’d never be jealous of you,” Bitty said. ”I have the job I want. I just want to be able to skate for fun. Like you want to bake for fun, I guess.”

“I don’t know about that,” Jack said. “It was pretty stressful. I kept wanting to make it perfect, but you said not to overwork it. But maybe it would be more fun if it wasn’t being recorded for TV.”

“Maybe we could bake together sometime?” Bitty said. 

“Then skate?” Jack suggested. “On our practice ice.”

“That would be really great,” Bitty said. “Ready to go back? By the way, you never said what your charity is.”

“You Can Play,” Jack said. “I’m thinking of coming out next year.”

[wyofabdoms]

Undercover I Do - Chapter 5

Characters: Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: While on an undercover assignment posing as a married couple, you are attacked and nearly assaulted. Upon waking, all you remember about Javier Peña is what you remembering seeing from two photographs of the two of you posing as the happily married couple. As you struggle to regain your memories, Javi struggles with his own feelings for you.

Rating: Mature (Eventual smut)

Warnings: fake/pretend relationship, married and undercover trope, temporary amnesia, hospitalization, blood and injury, swearing, awkward Javi, unrequited feels, mentions of sex toys, feelings, pining, 

Word Count: 3132

Notes: You're released from the hospital, and Javi sets up house. While doing so, he stumbles across a couple of things that make him feel all kinds of ways!

Read on Ao3

You were released from the hospital two days later under the stipulation that you were to rest and were not to return to any kind of active field duty until fully cleared by the doctor and his medical team.  Over the course of those two days, some of your memories had seeped back in, like figures appearing through thick fog and slowly taking form and shape.  But, it seemed to you, not any of the really important ones were returning.  You remembered now some specific events from the last two years of your time as an agent: big busts you had made, critical incidents that had ended badly for your agency, colleagues that had been lost in the line of duty.  You had been able to recall many details of your work against the worst of the drug cartels in Colombia from the last two years and even further back...but most memories of things from the past three or four weeks were still a grey void with nothing in them, not even shadows to hint at memories waiting there in the fog.

You were rarely alone at the hospital: if Dixon was not sitting at your bedside, then Javi was there in her place. Between the two of them, you had managed to scrape together some large pieces that were missing about your relationships: you had worked with Dixon earlier in your career in San Diego and when she had risen in ranks and earned a seat down here in the thick of things, she had brought you along with her.  You had the feeling that she viewed you as a bit of a protege and you felt confident that the memories you had of her support and backing of you were true.  Memories about your relationship with Javi proved to be a bit more difficult to get confirmation on.  While both Dixon and Javi were very willing to discuss and confirm anything you asked about your mentor, when you inquired or asked for clarification on your history with your husband, both agents seemed to hesitate for a moment before answering you.  Dixon was more guarded than Javi and the older woman would often change the subject as quickly as she could when you asked her about your husband.  You got a distinct sense that she did not approve of your marriage to the man you had been partnered with during your time here.

You remembered that was how you had met Javi; you had been assigned as his partner.  You remembered the earliest days of working with him: how he had flirted with you and you had rebuffed him, how there had been moments when your partnership had skated the line of something more.  But it was only the older memories that seemed to come clearly to you...the closer to present day you came, the emptier your memories became.  You had tried to remember when exactly your relationship with Javi had made the jump from work partner to life partner.  When and how had the two of you told each other how you felt?  And you had zero memories of a proposal, a wedding....no memories at all of how it felt to touch and be touched by the handsome man who spent hours sitting in comfortable silence next to your bed. You couldn’t bring yourself to ask him questions about those things...not yet.

Surprisingly, Dixon was the one who escorted you when you were released.  After the older woman saw you carefully buckled into the passenger seat of the car, you inquired as to why Javi wasn’t the one driving you home.  Dixon’s eye flickered behind her dark sunglasses, and she mumbled something about him getting your apartment ready for you. She assured you that he would be waiting at your home when you got there.

Your home.  For a moment, your stomach sank, thinking about how you would be going back to a place that was foreign to you but was supposed to be a safe haven, a refuge, the home you shared with a husband you were supposed to be in love with.  Would you remember any of it?  Would anything that you found there help jog anything loose in your memory?

You could only hope.

***

“Fuck!”

Javi growled as he struggled to keep a box from teetering off the pile of other boxes that it was precariously stacked on.  His hands were full of his clothes on hangers, halfway between the box he had just removed them from and the clothing pole in the closet.  He had been struggling most of the morning with lugging half of his possessions down the two flights of stairs of their shared apartment building and trying to make it appear as though he had lived in this apartment for longer than a few hours.  Both he and Dixon had agreed it would be best for her to return to familiar surroundings...but they still needed to keep up the premise that the two of you shared a life together.

Javi had never given much thought to domesticity.  The closest he had ever come was Lorraine...and the brief moment of introspection he had had when he had seen her those several years ago at that wedding.  Thoughts had crossed his mind then: what would it be like to have a wife, to wear a ring on his finger, to have promised himself to someone forever?  To have a future that was shared with another person?  To make important decisions with another person and not just on your own?  To have 2.5 kids and a house?  But he hadn’t spent too much time dwelling on it simply because none of that was really who Javi was, was completely unimaginable to him.  He had never once really thought that sort of life would ever be one he would want, much less be able to live.  And, quite honestly, he wasn’t all that sure that that kind of life was one that he deserved.

Now, it seemed, life was playing a little gag on him: turns out maybe there WAS a way for him to see if married life was for him...although he did hate the fact that his partner had had to be injured in the process.  

One thing he was certain of at the moment, though: if getting married and divvying up and combining possessions was as big a pain in the ass for real as it was for this farce?...Well, that was a strike against matrimony in his opinion.

At first he had merely grabbed a small duffle bag full of items; things he thought he might leave at a woman’s house if he was spending the night or a weekend: a change of clothes, toiletries, firearm.  But when he had let himself into her apartment two floors below his in their building, it had struck him that that wasn’t going to be good enough. 

Her apartment was lived in.  Unlike his own, which he realized now seemed a little sterile and cold, her’s was warm and (though not a word he often used in his vocabulary) cozy.  She had artwork on the walls, shelves full of books from all different genres...even a few board games and some well-worn records on the record player stand. He spotted a rolled up yoga mat under a bench beneath the window and a couple of handwritten recipes and smiling photos tucked under bright magnets on the refrigerator. Her bedroom smelled of lavender and soft vanilla; the bed was neatly made (again, unlike his own) and dirty clothes resided in a hamper rather than tossed carelessly into a corner. The spare room that served as an office housed neatly organized work related content and photo albums of people from home, holiday decorations stashed under the guest bed; her closet had her clothes neatly organized (by color, who knew!?). He had quickly come to the conclusion that he might need to put a bit more effort into this charade.

So he had proceeded to spend the next several hours being swept into a whirlwind of imagining what a shared space would look like if the two of them were actually married.  He had started with the few books he had in his own apartment; a few biographies, some car magazines and a ratty copy of “The Art of War” and “The Hobbit”.  He had jammed them onto the neat bookshelves in her living room before returning quickly with some of his own records: some Cumbia records and an Eagles album, which he shuffled in with her own Steely Dan, Creedence Clearwater and Three Dog Night. 

He didn’t have much to contribute to the kitchen besides a few bottles of whiskey and a bottle of tequila next to her own bottles of red wine.  He had pulled a photo taken when he graduated from high school from his wallet and placed it on the fridge next to one of her with her huge family.  He paused a moment to assess the contrast in the two pictures: her in the midst of her five older brothers and parents, all wearing matching Christmas sweaters...him standing bashfully and stiffly next to his dad, who grinned proudly at the camera, one arm awkwardly slung over a teenage Javi’s shoulder.  The bathroom didn’t take long, either.  He added his razor, a bottle of Old Spice, and his toothbrush and comb; he glanced into the medicine cabinet as he placed his deodorant there and eyed what looked suspiciously like a package of prescription birth control...his mind started to wander and he slammed the cabinet door shut, heading back upstairs to his apartment for another load.  

He had strong-armed his clothes still on the hangers into some file boxes to make them easier to carry down the stairs, then had hauled shoes, underthings, suits, jeans, and (what he had not really realized until this moment) a ridiculous amount of the same style shirt in different colors downstairs and was now trying to wedge them into one half of her closet, trying to make it look like they had been there for a while and doing his best to not become buried by the haphazardly stacked boxes.  Once the last set of shoes was stuffed into the closet next to a pair of sky high red heels he had never seen her wear before, (he was CERTAIN he would have remembered those) he opened the dresser to shove his socks and underwear into a drawer and gulped. Staring back at him was a drawer full of his partner’s bras and panties.  

For a moment he felt like a creep pawing through her underwear drawer, but he steeled himself and carefully nudged the sensible pieces of cotton material to one side of the drawer.  As the material shifted, he spotted a brief flash of red lace and something that could be black and leather, but he refused to investigate any further; he could feel his face flushing and his heart pounding harder.  He dumped his own underwear into the drawer and shoved it closed, sighing with relief and opening the next one; socks wouldn’t cause his mind to wander into dangerous territory nearly as badly!  He carefully shoved the rolls of clothing to the side to make room for his own once again and felt his hand hit something.  His breath hitched as he uncovered what was very obviously a vibrator.  Next to it was a tube of lube and a small box about the size of a deck of cards.  Try as he might, he could not stop himself from carefully tilting open the lid of the box...Javi was quite educated when it came to knowing his way around a woman, but he was clueless as to the purpose or use of the two small colored balls nestled into the velvet inside of the box...although he was pretty sure he at least knew where they were supposed to go.  

His mind clouded with images of his partner stretched out on the bed behind him, bringing herself to orgasm using these items and he felt himself harden in his jeans.  He let out a puff of air and carefully nudged the items to the other side of the drawer, reburying them beneath the socks as they had been before.  He piled in his own footwear, then shakily closed the drawer, still trying to blink away the images playing out in his mind.  He wondered what her face would look like as she came apart.  What did she sound like?  Did she cry out when she reached her peak?  What would his name sound like tumbling from her lips in the middle of her climax, what would she taste like…?

He stormed out of the bedroom, furious at himself for going down that path.  He felt like a pervert, getting so turned on after snooping through her personal effects.  He was angry at Dixon for insisting that they do this; but he was frustrated at himself, more.  He shouldn’t be going through her things like this.  He splashed some cold water on his face from the kitchen sink and trudged back up to his own apartment, pacing for a while once he got there, trying to both ease his erection as well as determine what else he should bring with him back to her apartment.  His eyes settled on the shoulder case that had been retrieved from the house that had been used in the undercover operation.  He pulled out the two framed photographs that had been next to “their” bed; the photos that she had referenced when she had first woken up.  He stared at them, thinking that if he hadn’t been present at the time they had been taken, he would have believed they were real, too...that they were actual photographs of two people madly in love with each other.  

Maybe…

No.  He stuck both pictures under his arms, grabbed another box filled with work files, tossed his favorite ashtray and lighter in the box along with one or two small tchotkes, a couple of coasters and a small plastic plant from the window sill, and made one more trip down the stairs.  He dispersed the items randomly throughout her apartment, thinking to himself that it at least gave a more unified image of two different people existing within the same space.  

He hauled the box of paperwork into her second bedroom converted into an office space and plopped it down on the desk, taking one or two folders and strewing them about the top of the desk, again in stark contrast to her own organized, neat piles.  It started to reflect their separate desks at work now, which he found convincing.  He sat in the desk chair for a minute and quickly shuffled through the small desk drawers, double checking for anything glaring that might be difficult to explain.  As he opened the bottom drawer, his eye caught a blue leather bound notebook.  Flipping through it, he saw pages and pages of writing in his partner’s familiar handwriting.  As he thumbed through, he was startled to spot his name on one page.  He carefully flipped back, scanning the writing and was surprised to find that it actually appeared quite often.  He turned a page and began reading from the beginning:

“Everything sometimes feels so incredibly heavy here.  The job, the humidity, the pressure of being a woman in this man’s arena.  I hate it!  I hate that I have to be strong all the damn time.  I hate that it feels like I can’t seek the same comforts as other women...even if I have insisted that it be this way.  I’m so grateful and proud of myself...most of the time...like 95.5% of the time.  The other times, I just wish I could let myself cry when something heartbreaking happens.  When someone says something scathing that hurts my feelings at work.  When I watch Javi go off to sleep with yet another woman.

Javi.  That feels so heavy all of the time, too.  I can’t seem to ever level myself out when it comes to him.  Some days he drives me absolutely insane and I want nothing more than to bash his face in with a paperweight.  Other days, I just want him to put his arms around me and hold me.  Not do anything or say anything, just hold me tight…because he is, truthfully, the only single person that I trust.  

And yet, am I fooling myself in saying that...in saying that I trust him?  Because do I really?  If I really trusted him, why don’t I just go to him?  He only lives two floors up.  Why can’t I knock on his door and fling myself into his arms and kiss him and feel what it’s like to press my body against his?  Why can’t I bring myself to do that?  Well...probably because I don’t really ACTUALLY trust him...not with that part of myself.  Javi is the man I want having my back in a shootout...but is he the man I want to be next to me every night when I fall asleep and every morning when I wake up?  I dream about him sometimes...about him being in my bed with me, but we’re usually not sleeping...we’re doing everything but.  I dream about it and then I wake up feeling empty because he’s not there, because it wasn’t real.  The emptiness is heavy, too...”

Javi clapped the journal shut, feeling his stomach churn.  He shouldn’t have read that and guilt thrummed through him.  These were her private thoughts; never meant for anyone else but her to read.  Once again he felt like an intruder and he loathed himself...Dixon...that asshole Ortiz...for putting both of them in this situation.  He dragged a hand over his face, growling low in his throat.  He looked down at the box at his feet, still open with a few files and the two photographs staring back up at him.  He reached in and took out one framed picture, sitting it upright on the desk: the “engagement” photo.  He took the “wedding” picture out and then tossed the journal into the box, carrying both items from the home office.  He carefully set up the photo on a bookshelf in the living room, then put the lid back on the box and headed back up the stairs to drop the box off in his apartment and lock up.  Before he left, though, he made sure to slip the freshly cleaned gold band onto his left ring finger.

His wife would be coming home any minute now.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8,  Chapter 9, Chapter 10,  Chapter 11,  Chapter 12,  Chapter 13