#but…admitting Anything risks or hell. actually does. stir things up again

[mypunkpansexualtwin]

Noticing the Little Things

-shows up a week late to Kiss Ryuji Day with Starbucks- I’ve contributed to a fandom event! mo you didn’t contribute shit I’ve contributed! Took a break from Misguided Wingman, so instead of a WIP Wednesday, y’all are getting 6.6k words of fluff instead!

Under a cut cause that’s a little much, and link to AO3 in the reblogs cause tumblr does terrible things to posts with links in them.

Hey, come meet my mom!

Ryuji had sprung the offer on him last minute via dead of the night text. It wasn’t as though he’d been trying to catch Ren off guard intentionally; it was more a matter of this being her first full day off in nearly a month that hadn’t fallen through for one reason or another. Ren had quickly learned that those sorts of days were few and far between, and notoriously difficult to plan around because of it. Even rarer were the days where both Sakamotos’ schedules lined up for a full day of quality time, especially now with the addition of Phantom Thievery. And Ryuji had offered to share this once in a blue moon opportunity with his best friend. Naturally, even as tired as he’d been when the message came through, Ren had jumped at the chance. For once it (mostly) didn’t have anything to do with his crush on his best friend that could have been viewed from space, Ren was just excited to finally meet the woman whose praises Ryuji’d been singing since they met.

The next morning, Ryuji had texted him again uncharacteristically bright and early--especially for a Sunday--hoping to put their heads together for something nice to do for her. He didn’t want her to do a bunch of work on one of her rare days off and Ren didn’t blame him one bit. He pitched the idea of takeout; no effort to cook, no dishes to wash, only trash to take out after. Ryuji shot it down, hesitant to admit that they couldn’t quite afford enough takeout for all three of them this late in the month and even less willing to ask Ren to cover the whole thing. Which meant going out to eat somewhere was probably also a no-go. And then Ren was struck by divine inspiration.

Or rather, he looked down at the breakfast that Sojiro had so kindly prepared for him before Leblanc opened. And then he texted Ryuji.

What if I made curry?

And that was how he ended up spending the rest of his morning at the grocery store, picking through produce with such a critical eye that it would have brought a tear to Sojiro’s. He’d assured Ryuji several times over that it was no trouble, he needed the practice anyway and he’d gotten some sizable bonuses from a couple of his jobs, so the shopping was no issue. Ren sent the list of what he needed and, after a little more convincing, Ryuji had sent back a list of what they didn’t already have in the apartment, as well as a promise to have the kitchen ready when he arrived and to do dishes after all of his friend’s hard work. On top of the rest of his list, Ren added a nice tuna filet for Morgana, who’d be stuck in Yongen all day rather than risk getting anyone in trouble for bringing the not-a-cat to the Sakamoto apartment.

Ren double checked his bags and tried to shake off the feeling that he was missing something while Morgana halfheartedly berated him between bites of fish for being left behind. Halfway down the stairs to the cafe, it hit Ren and he couldn’t help but feel a little dumb for forgetting. His thumbs skated over his phone screen to ask Ryuji a question, only to get a question himself from Sojiro.

“Got everything you need to impress your mother-in-law, kid?” His tone was teasing as he looked over the boy’s armful of groceries. Ren sputtered an objection that was less actual coherent words and more disconnected, indignant noises, red as the bell peppers he’d selected as his caretaker chuckled. His phone buzzed as Ryuji’s answer came in.

“Actually…” Ren managed after the worst of the heat faded from his cheeks. “I was wondering if I could borrow a couple of things?”

-----

“Out.” Ren commanded, brandishing a freshly washed carrot like a dagger and flicking the water off of it at his friend.

“Hey! It’s my kitchen!” Ryuji argued but stepped back anyways with his hands up in a vain attempt to shield himself from the droplets.

“They’re my groceries. Go sit, I’m cooking.” Ren retorted and turned back to the cutting board. Sakamoto-san’s laugh could be heard from the living room, not that that was very far. It was a small apartment and the kitchen and living room weren’t so much two separate rooms as they were one room about the size of Leblanc’s attic interrupted by a short stretch of countertop. When he’d first come in, Sakamoto-san had scooped up the groceries from Ren’s arms before he’d gotten half a word of greeting out, Ryuji had dragged him off for a quick tour of the apartment, and he’d come back to everything he’d need laid out in a neat array next to the stove in the five minutes he’d been distracted.

“He fusses if he doesn’t get to help.” She explained while Ren worked. “He does it to me, too, y’know.” He couldn’t help but wonder with a roll of his eyes where ever could his best friend have gotten that habit from?

“Oh I fuss if I don’t get to help?” The blond asked dryly and then helpfully voiced Ren’s inner sarcastic inquiry: “Wonder where I picked that up?” A smile found its way onto Ren’s face as they continued bantering back and forth while he worked, Sakamoto-san sipping on tea in front of the television and Ryuji leaning on the counter from the living room side to watch his best friend cook.

It was comfortable, but not quite in the same way Leblanc had become; the cafe was a place to rest, to breathe, to hide. His attic bedroom felt undeniably safe, but was somehow paradoxically isolated from the world around it and almost entirely devoid of privacy. The apartment, though… With the sound of the tv providing soft background noise to Ryuji and his mother’s easy conversation and the smell of curry spices filling every corner of the small space, it felt safe in a way that felt like home, in a way the attic hadn’t quite managed yet, in a way his own home hadn’t really felt since he was a little kid. Something tense in Ren’s chest unwound and he hadn’t realized he was humming until Ryuji and Sakamoto-san had stopped talking to listen. It wasn’t even particularly good, at least as far as he was concerned, but it was the only way to get rid of the Velvet Room’s mysterious song when it got stuck in his head like it lived there. The silence stretched for an uncomfortable beat when he realized he had an audience.

“Um.” He glanced up from the frying pan for a moment, then quickly back down to it to hide his blush after meeting two matching sets of wide, brown eyes watching him. Nothing like an unblinking stare to make one self-conscious. “S-sorry. Did I interrupt you two?”

“Oh no, not at all! You have a lovely voice, Ren. Don’t let us stop you.” Sakamoto-san insisted with a kind smile that turned a little too knowing as she glanced over at her son.

“Yeah, man, you ain’t gotta quit ‘cause of us.” Ryuji affirmed, still watching him with a grin and a warm, wide-eyed look that the other boy couldn’t quite put a name to. “And she’s right, you’re pretty good. Hell, maybe we shoulda gone to that karaoke place for real the one time so you could show off.” Heat rose to Ren’s face that had nothing to do with the food he was cooking.

“Well, we could always go back, make that our next celebration after-- uh,” Ren quickly changed course before he accidentally blurted out ‘after the next change of heart’ in front of Sakamoto-san, “after exams. Get everyone together, take turns picking songs, that sort of thing.” Ren suggested. “Of course, that means you’d have to sing, too.”

“No way--!” The blond tried to object before his mother cut him off in her own excitement.

“Oh that sounds so fun!” She grinned more widely, with a mischievous gleam in her eye. Ren had seen an identical look on her son’s face enough times to slightly dread whatever she was about to say. “Maybe you boys could do a duet? I know a few songs that’d--”

“Mommmm!” Ryuji groaned indignantly while Ren smothered a laugh and prayed any color in his cheeks could be written off as a result of leaning over the hot stove.

-----

Ren watched a flurry of movement from where he’d gotten up to stir the curry and break out the pour-over setup. Boss had only let him borrow this one because it had been chipped a few years prior--still functional, but no longer restaurant quality--and because Ren had laid the flattery on especially thick when he begged to use it.

“Ooh, you’re gonna make coffee? I’ll be right back, I know what else’ll go perfect with it!” Ryuji had jumped up and all but bolted for the door. “Be right back!”

“Wait, I was just--” He tried to tell the blond, but the door had already snapped shut before he could finish, “--setting it up.” He sighed and offered a helpless shrug to Sakamoto-san. “It’s supposed to go with the curry, but that’s going to be simmering for a while.”

Sakamoto-san chuckled and smiled fondly in the direction her son had disappeared. “You know how excitable he can be, and he’s been looking forward to introducing us for a couple of months now.” She stood and stretched with a groan, then walked over and leaned on the counter. Ren could practically feel her gaze on him as he worked; even with as warm and casual as the look on her face was, something in her eyes felt scrutinizing. He was being sized up with no idea as to why. Sakamoto-san’s smile stayed in place, as gentle as before when she asked, “why not brew us each a cup anyway? Ryuji’s been raving about the one you made him and how well it’d go with old lady Ueda’s ginger peach danishes since the beginning of summer. And since he’s even less of a coffee drinker than I am, I’m eager to see the master at work.”

“If you want to see the master at work, you’ll have to come by Leblanc and meet So-- um, Sakura-san.” He explained with a nervous, slightly forced chuckle of his own. After a moment of internal debate, Ren nodded. “But I did bring enough for everyone to have a couple of cups. Couldn’t hurt to see if you like it as much as Ryuji does. Maybe I’ll impress you just as much, Sakamoto-san.” That had been exactly why he was doing this, why he had worked so hard to convince Boss to part with even a little of his cafe equipment.

She barked a laugh at that and startled Ren enough that he nearly knocked over the bag of coffee he’d traded away a full week of work for. “Two things. Three, actually. One, please just call me Hana. Because, two, I’ve been impressed with you for months, kid. And, three, don’t beat yourself up if you can’t impress me as much as Ryuji ‘cause that’s gonna be an awfully high bar to clear. I don’t know exactly what you did to do it, but you pulled him out of…” Hana-san trailed off with a sigh, and then continued with a slightly thick edge to her voice, “out of a pretty dark place, y’know. My boy adores you.”

With that and the overwhelming warmth in her eyes, Ren could feel his own throat tightening, but he managed to choke out a weak, “O-okay.” And then he couldn’t force anything else out. How were you supposed to react to hearing your probably-unrequited-crush’s mom tell you that said crush adored you? As if she could read the question on his face, she reached over to clap him on the shoulder encouragingly.

“Don’t worry about sayin’ anything, My sunshine’s told me you’re not much of a talker. Just make sure you keep showin’ him how much he means to you too, alright?”

“I will. Thank you, Hana-san.” He finally replied and got the same annoyed frown he’d gotten from Ryuji two days into their friendship, when he’d met his new nickname with Ryuji’s family name. Although responding to Renren with Sakamoto back then had been an attempt at teasing on Ren’s part, calling Sakamoto-san by just her given name felt like too much.

The door creaked open and pulled her attention off of Ren as Ryuji came bouncing through, nearly forgetting to kick off his shoes in his excitement to deliver the prized pastries.

“You weren’t kidding when you said this one was formal, sunshine.” She sighed. “And damn, I’ve never seen you make that trip so fast. You that excited to show off to your Renren? ” Ryuji squawked in offense and Ren could feel his face flame at how she’d emphasized his nickname.

“N-nah, he could probably sense that I was just about to ask about embarrassing baby pictures is all.” Ren deflected as he went back to prepping their coffee.

The only thing better than the look of utter betrayal Ryuji gave him was the one of unbridled delight on Hana-san’s face.

-----

Dinner had passed cheerfully, if somewhat raucously, as Hana-san and Ryuji regaled their guest with stories about Ryuji’s childhood, and the boys entertained her with stories about their time together since the beginning of the school year. Ren felt himself opening up more and more easily as the meal had gone by and even shared a few stories from his time working at Leblanc, as well as the specifics behind balancing the night’s coffee and curry. As per usual, Ryuji didn’t really seem to be absorbing the specifics, but seemed more than happy to watch his friend talk about something he was enthusiastic about. Ren was even openly laughing by the end of dinner while he and Ryuji recounted the time they had met up for lunch after separately incurring Ushimaru’s wrath by falling asleep in class, then bursting out laughing at each other’s identical chalk bruises on their foreheads. They didn’t mention that each of them still had the other’s half of the subsequent selfie set as their phone’s home screen.

Afterwards, the atmosphere in the apartment settled a little when Ryuji shooed both his mother and his best friend out of the kitchen to sort out leftovers and wash dishes. In the meantime, Ren and Hana-san sat in comfortable quiet in the living room while half-watching the talk show on tv and enjoying the last of the coffee and danishes. Ryuji had been spot-on, Ren noted, the flavor paired beautifully with what he’d been secretly calling the Kidd Blend since he first got his right hand man’s seal of approval. As per usual, even if Ryuji didn’t have a head for the specifics, his instincts were unparalleled.

“He’s got good taste, right?” Hana-san remarked as she watched Ren’s thoughtful chewing. He nodded. Again with that uncanny ability to read him; it would have been unsettling if he hadn’t already been used to it from Ryuji and just figured that she was where he got it from. She cracked a smile after taking another sip from her coffee and said, “I gotta admit, I was skeptical when he said it was good enough to go with our favorite dessert. Figured he was just talking you up again ‘cause I’ve never had a cup of coffee I actually liked. I only drink it if I need the caffeine fix. But this? This is damn good.” Hana-san drained the cup and let out a satisfied sigh before she settled back a little further into her seat.

At that point Ren had been keeping a running tally of how many little gestures and features Hana-san and her son had in common. Despite their differences physically--where Ryuji was tall and all lean, hard lines, Hana-san was considerably shorter than her son and built soft and sturdy--there was no denying they were mother and son with as many quirks and features as they had in common. The same warm, brown eyes that tilted upwards just a little at the outer corners; the same bright smile that lit up their entire faces and laughter that filled every corner of the room; the same animated manner of speaking, all open expression and wild gestures to tell a story; the same bright quality to their voices, loud and boisterous without being overwhelming. The same way of making him feel like he’d known them all his life within the span of a few hours. That last one was about when he’d lost count, and therefore couldn’t say where he was when he noted that even with the difference in their specific posture, the two even relaxed the same way when they sat. Ryuji tended to sprawl out and Hana-san seemed more comfortable curling up when she sat, but they both had something loose and open about the way they sat, something oddly approachable.

“You’re always welcome to come by Leblanc, Hana-san.” Ren said with a smile, then added somewhat proudly, “Although I’ll have to direct Boss since Ryuji only gets coffee when I make it.”

“We’ll see if I get some time. And seriously, kid, just Hana is fine. I’ve heard enough about you from Ryuji that I feel like I already know you.” She insisted.

“Wh- really?” His head snapped up from his drink. He knew that he and Ryuji were best friends, probably the closest friends that either of them had ever had. But he hadn’t actually thought about the fact that that meant Ryuji talked about him to other people. It was probably silly the way something that obvious could warm him from the inside and fill his chest with butterflies, but it did.

“Oh yeah. Honestly, I knew I liked you before he ever even said your name. It was like out of nowhere his grades started picking back up, I wasn’t getting any more calls about him skipping classes, he seemed motivated again, like he hadn’t been since…” Hana-san looked over at Ryuji, busy and oblivious in the kitchen, as her face darkened and her voice dropped before she continued, “since before that sonofabitch broke my boy’s leg.” The bitterness passed after a moment and she fixed Ren with a gaze brimming with that same overwhelming warmth and kindness from before. “I knew that whoever it was that brought my boy’s smile back… that was someone I wanted to meet, y’know? That was someone I wanted to thank. So, thanks Ren. You brought my sunshine back.”

“I… You’re welcome.” Ren mumbled. “It’s not…” He stopped himself from saying it wasn’t a big deal because that definitely wasn’t true. “I mean, he did just as much for me.” Then he took a sip from his coffee, at a loss for what else to say.

“I’m sure he did, he’s a good boy. But this is me thanking you, not him.” She shrugged as she watched him drink and her smile went crooked as her voice took on a teasing lilt. “Still, I guess if Hana is too informal for you, you could always just call me Mom. Might as well get in the habit now, right?”

So. Hot coffee coming out of one’s nose was very painful. That was the immediate sensation that momentarily distracted Ren from the shock of Hana-san’s statement. She jumped up in surprise as he choked on his drink, then quickly grabbed a dish towel from the nearby counter and handed it to him. He coughed a few times and wiped at the surprisingly little amount of coffee that he’d gotten on himself, before finally clearing his throat and wheezing out, “Excuse me?”

Hana-san was very clearly trying not to laugh at him while she gave him another of those warm smiles that just confused him this time. “I know you two are dating, I’m not blind, kid.” Ren’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Hard. It prompted another coughing fit and Hana-san couldn’t hold back from laughing this time. “Even if I was, I still would’ve picked up on it. You two are too obvious. It’s sweet, really. The way you light up when you’re watchin’ him? And the first time I finally got your name out of him, you were suddenly the only thing he wanted to talk about. ‘ Hey mom, I’m hanging out with Ren today, don’t worry ‘bout dinner for me, we’re gonna get ramen. Man, can’t believe Ren’s never been to a real arcade before. His hometown didn’t really have one, so I’m gonna show him my favorite tomorrow. Hey mom, me and Ren are going to the gym today, yeah we’re gonna be running, yeah I’m running again, didn’t I tell you? Nah, I don’t need anything for my birthday, I know money’s tight this week and Renren’s taking me fishing so it’s all good. Hey, did you know Ren hung the moon? Ain’t that sweet of him? I should do somethin’ to say thanks.’ Like I said, kid. Ryuji adores you.” Hana finished softly. Almost ruefully, but he missed that part. Ren’s head was spinning, out of sheer confusion and excitement and terror and hope that he’d been aggressively stomping down for months, as well as the fact that all the blood in his body seemed determined to rush to his face all at once.

“He… told you we’re dating?” He managed hoarsely, eyes flicking to Ryuji still washing dishes and still completely oblivious to their conversation with the water running. Did… Had Ryuji confessed to him without Ren realizing? Had those moments he’d dismissed as wishful thinking, bein’ free and my place is next to you, actually been what he hadn’t dared even hope for?

Had he been dating Ryuji Sakamoto this entire goddamn time without even realizing it?

“Well, no. At first I thought it was because he was nervous about coming out to me. I did what I could to let him know it wasn’t an issue, and since he never really changed how he talked about you, I figured he must have just been so excited to have such a wonderful boyfriend that he just... forgot to tell me.”

Ren barked out a rough laugh and then winced at the way it grated on his scalded sinuses. “Then that would make two of us, Hana-san. If I had realized this was that kind of ‘come meet my mom,’ I would’ve convinced Sojiro to let me bring one of the top-shelf blends.” A hollow laugh escaped him as Hana-san’s face fell.

“Oh. Oh… Ah shit, I’m so sorry! I went and made things awkward with him now, haven’t I?” She winced apologetically and looked down at the dishtowel when Ren handed it back. “And wasted that fantastic coffee on top of it, too. You’re sure you’re okay?” Ren waved the apology off.

“It’s fine, please don’t worry about it, Hana-san.” She frowned at him and he finally relented. “Hana. I just... have a couple questions for him now. That I have no idea how I’m gonna ask.” He ran a hand through his hair and glanced back at Ryuji again, who was nearly done cleaning up the kitchen.

“Well, good luck when you do. But I don’t think you’re gonna need it.” She assured him with a wink and a gentle clap on the shoulder. “So, if that wasn’t the top shelf stuff, what was it? Besides still pretty damn killer, obviously.”

“Huh? Oh. Second from the top. Still took some serious convincing and I’ll be working behind the counter at Leblanc all week to make up for it.” Ren flashed Hana a tired smile. “Worth it, though. Every non-coffee-drinker I impress is a win in my book.”

Her laugh in response took the sting out of his embarrassment. And his slightly burnt throat. “Well then, guess I will have to find a minute to come by, enjoy me some coffee, curry, and a captive audience.” Hana grinned and Ren couldn’t help but return it.

“I’ll look forward to the company.”

-----

Rather than walk straight to the closest station, Ren and Ryuji had decided to take the scenic route and loop through a nearby park once first. Ren stuck close to the blond, given that he was a lot more familiar with the area as one of his go-to running practice routes. That and, while it was refreshingly cool for Ryuji outside the apartment, Ren ran colder than his friend and was starting to get uncomfortably chilly. As if on cue, Ryuji fell into step right next to him and threw an arm around his shoulder, and Ren felt himself immediately relax into the touch to leech his right hand man’s body heat.

“I’m really glad you finally got to meet my mom. Glad you hit it off with her, gotta admit I was kinda nervous at first.” Ryuji finally said.

“Really? Why?”

“Well you know after my old man took off, it was just me ‘n her, yeah?” Ren nodded. “Even when I had other friends before… everything, Mom was always my best friend. Lame, right?” Ryuji gave a halfhearted, self-deprecating laugh. Ren nudged his shoulder a little more firmly against the blond, not willing to let the disparagement pass uncontested.

“Not at all, she’s pretty great. Wish I was half as close with my folks as you two are.”

“Right. Yeah, she is. Anyways, yeah, mom was always my best friend. So when you turned up--and it’s not like she said anything so I could be wrong--but when you turned up I think she was a little jealous? Not like tellin’ me not to hang out with you or anythin’, she’s been real glad to see me with friends again! But I was kinda worried she felt…” The blond trailed off, waving his free hand vaguely as he tried to come up with the right word.

“Pushed aside?” Ren supplied.

“Exactly! So even after I knew she’d warmed up to you after hearin’ about you so much, I was kinda nervous that she wouldn’t get along with you. So yeah, I’m glad you guys hit it off.”

“I’m glad, too.” He couldn’t help but wonder if Hana had told Ryuji what she’d told him, how she knew she liked Ren as soon as Ryuji started getting back on his feet again. There was no way she’d told him she was certain they were dating, although that probably would have made bringing it up easier for Ren, if no less awkward. It wasn’t as though he could just blurt out ‘hey are we dating, your mom was pretty convinced I’m your boyfriend and I’m really hoping she was right’. Well okay, he could if he could work up the nerve, but that was a pretty big ‘if.’

“Hey.” Ren could hear the frown in Ryuji’s voice and didn’t have time to react before his glasses were being tugged off his face and tucked into the collar of the other boy’s shirt. “You’re doin’ that thing again, where you’re overthinkin’ somethin’ and you disappear behind your damn glasses. What’s up?”

Ren blinked up at Ryuji a few times, barely registering that, huh, that was a habit of his wasn’t it, before the words “Why sunshine?” fell out of his mouth.

“Huh?” Ryuji fixed him with a puzzled look that shifted into one of flushed embarrassment as the question registered. “Oh, right, the nickname. Uh, my hair, mostly.”

“Makes sense. This is gonna sound dumb, but even though I know you bleach it, I was still surprised that your mom’s brunette.” Ren admitted. “I guess part of me was expecting her to be blonde, too.”

“I was actually aimin’ for her color the first time we bleached mine.” Ryuji admitted, then frowned like he hadn’t meant to say anything.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I didn’t… I wasn’t always so gung-ho about the whole ‘fine, you’re gonna call me a punk, I’ll give you an effin’ punk’ thing, y’know? That didn’t really click all the way into place ‘til I got Kidd.” The blond took a slightly shaky breath and exhaled deeply before shooting his friend a questioning glance. Ren nodded for him to continue. He wasn’t going to push and Ryuji knew that, but he was definitely curious. “Right. So, this was back when my leg was still healin’ last year. Had a rough day on it, came home feelin’ like ten kindsa shit, like bad enough I went straight to the bathroom and threw up I hurt so damn bad. And as I’m washin’ my face after, I catch how my face looks in the mirror and… and I look like just as much shit as I feel.” Ren could feel how sharply Ryuji spat the hollow, bitter laugh before he continued, “specifically, I looked just like my old man whenever he was hungover. Effin’ hated it, seein’ a face I had damn near blocked out ‘cause it’d been so long since I saw it just starin’ back at me from the mirror.” Ren wrapped his arm around his best friend’s shoulders the same way Ryuji’s was draped across his, then gave his best shot at a comforting squeeze.

Ryuji shot him a crooked smile and brightened as he kept talking. “Anyways, I told Mom what happened and asked if we could dye it the same color as hers. And she was totally down for it. So she went out, got a bleach kit, annnnnd when we used it, we totally overshot it. I lost track of time and turned my hair bright freakin’ yellow and patchy as hell, too,” he laughed. “And man, we laughed harder than we had in months at that. She spent the rest of the night callin’ me sunshine to mess with me, but it was nice seein’ her really smile again, y’know? So when she asked me the next day what kind of dye I wanted to cover it up with, I told her to grab more bleach and we’d try and even it out cause the blond grew on me. And honestly? The name did, too.” Ryuji shook Ren’s shoulder in warning. “But don’t tell her I said that.”

“My lips are sealed. It suits you, though. The name,” Ren affirmed and ruffled his hand through the shock of surprisingly soft, blond hair, “and the look.” Ryuji swatted his hand away with a laugh and let it settle back on his shoulder.

“Yeah. Long as I can get away with it, I’m keepin’ it.” Ryuji stretched and fixed Ren with a look. “Aight, now what were you actually thinkin’ about?”

“Uh, w-well.” Shit. Nothing else came to mind through the haze of mild panic that struck Ren. No excuses, no delays, no deflections. Oh, to hell with it, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Time to just rip the bandage off. “Your mom thinks we’re dating and you just forgot to tell her because you got caught up in being excited about it.”

“WHAT?!” Ryuji yelped and jumped back like he’d been burned. Not the best reaction, but Ren was already determined to just get it all out.

“Yeah. And as soon as she put it like that, I suddenly wasn’t sure that I just… hadn’t realized I’d accepted a confession at some point.” He explained, eyes fixed on the path in front of them. Ryuji laughed, high and nervous, bordering on slightly hysterical.

“Wh-when would I have even--”

“My place is next to you.” Ren’s heart was hammering in his chest hard enough that he was worried it might crack a rib or five.

“...oh. Right. Okay, yeah, that’s… that’s fair.” Ryuji had stopped walking and was frowning at the concrete as he scuffed the toe of his shoe at it. “So you been tryin’ to let me down easy or somethin? Don’t worry about it, dude, that wasn’t…” He trailed off and Ren finally turned to face him. The pang that squeezed his heart left him breathless when he saw the look of utter disappointment on Ryuji’s face. Ren was frozen, even as something in the back of his head screamed at him to fix it before Ryuji got the wrong idea. The blond straightened up with a laugh that sounded more like a scoff and ran a hand through his hair. “Man, that explains all the ‘you know you can tell me anything’ conversations she’s been tryin’ to have lately. I was worried she’d caught on about the Phantom Thief stuff, but she just… God, do I even wanna know what you told her?”

Ren practically jumped at the opening. “I told her if I’d known it was that kind of ‘hey come meet my mom’ that I would have brought better coffee.” He tried to look his best friend in the eye as he confessed, but just… couldn’t. Better to focus on getting the words out however he could. “I haven’t been trying to figure out how to let you down easy, kind of the opposite, actually.” He did his best to ignore the quiet intake of breath that got, or the way Ryuji tensed in his peripheral vision. “I’ve been working up the courage to ask and bracing myself for when you shot me down. I… I really like you.”

“...forreal?” Ryuji’s voice was soft with disbelief.

“Yeah.” Ren’s voice cracked, nerves finally getting the better of him. But he could at least answer, even if he still couldn’t look the other boy in the eye.

“You… You like me? Like, like-like me?”

“Yes. Have for a while, now. I might... “ Ren cleared his throat and tried again. “I might be a little past just like at this point, honestly.”

A breathless, disbelieving chuckle followed by, “Seriously?”

“Mhm.” A stiff nod.

“Why?” Ryuji’s tone had escalated from disbelief to full-on incredulity, sapping away all of Ren’s nerves in favor of sheer indignance when he whipped around to his best friend.

“How could I not?!” Ren nearly shouted, just self-aware enough to be glad they were alone. “You’re brave, so goddamn brave and so goddamn kind, protecting people--total strangers, sometimes--and expecting nothing back! You’re ridiculously good-looking and have an amazing smile and the best laugh I’ve ever heard, not to mention you’re just so damn compassionate? Quick to help people and even quicker to apologize when you mess up, even with just the little mistakes, and you always mean it and try to do better. And I’ve never in my life met someone as loyal as you, never had someone that I could rely on the way I rely on you!” Ren ranted, slightly light-headed from how quickly the words just poured out of him. “For fuck’s sake, you saved my life when I was just some guy off the street! The Phantom Thieves wouldn’t exist at all without you, and I… I would have spent the rest of the year, maybe even the rest of my life hiding if I hadn’t met you--”

“Hey.”

“Huh?” When had Ryuji stepped so close? How had Ren not noticed those warm, calloused hands cupping his jaw and tipping his head back up to look back at a face that wore an achingly-sweet expression of pure admiration, tempered only by the hint of apprehension at the corners of those warm, brown eyes Ren was such a sucker for?

“I’m gonna kiss you now. Izzat okay?”

“Please.” Ren whispered as his heart jumped up into his throat and Ryuji’s flushed face drew closer.

Both boys’ eyes fluttered shut at the first brush of lips, soft and deliberate. The second was just as gentle, just as careful, even as Ryuji’s fingers twitched against Ren’s jaw like it was taking all of his self control not to just dive in. Like he’d been thinking about how to do it right, planning it for a while, and that thought made Ren’s stomach flip. He slid one hand up the nape of Ryuji’s neck and buried his fingers in his hair at the third kiss, and wrapped his free arm around the blond’s waist to pull him closer partway through the fourth. From there, he lost count. It was the seventh or eighth kiss that found him pressed up against a nearby tree, and something like the thirteenth before nerves gave way to excitement and one of them deepened the kiss. He stopped counting entirely after the cautious sweep of Ryuji’s tongue over his lower lip temporarily shorted out his higher brain functions and pulled an embarrassingly needy sound from the back of his throat. Somewhere in the distantly coherent part of his brain, Ren made a mental note to start buying gum or mints because coffee-and-curry breath was… not great for kissing. It still took the two of them several minutes to break apart because kissing Ryuji, finally actually kissing him, was so much better than he’d imagined, even after months of daydreaming.

“So…” Ren sighed against the corner of Ryuji’s mouth, their foreheads resting against each other as they caught their breath. “Just to make sure we’re on the same page, no room for confusion--”

“Oh my god Renren, seriously?!” The words didn’t have any bite, being equal parts incredulity and laughter as Ryuji shoved gently at Ren’s shoulder.

“I just wanna be sure!” Ren laughed right back.

“Are you effin’ serious, how can you not be-- fine.” Ryuji pulled him into a tight hug, peppering his face with kisses as he spoke. “Ren Amamiya,” kiss, “will,” kiss, “you be,” kiss, “my,” kiss, “boyfriend?”

“Yes.” Ren turned his head to catch another kiss that Ryuji had aimed at his temple, sliding his tongue into the blond’s mouth and kissing him hard enough that his best friend was scarlet when he pulled away. “I would love to.”

Then he kissed Ryuji again. And again. And again.

-----

Eventually, Ren and Ryuji had broken apart long enough to return his glasses and get him on a train back to the cafe. He had been grinning like a dork for the entire ride and practically floated back into Leblanc when he got back, earning a weird look from Morgana on the counter. Sojiro was too busy to notice, nearly done cleaning up with most of the dishes already put away and the next day’s curry prepped and simmering. Ren stepped in, grabbed the washcloth off the side of the sink and started wiping down the counter.

“I can finish cleaning, you go ahead and get home to Futaba.” He insisted.

“Well you’re in a good mood. I take it you impressed the mother-in-law?” Boss teased.

“Yep, I think I did!” Ren chirped from behind the counter, then tried not to laugh. Sojiro did a double take and his face flickered through several expressions at once--sly and teasing, smug triumph, confusion, recognition, and further confusion--as he realized his ribbing hadn’t landed like it had just that afternoon.

Eventually he let out a “hmph” before probably deciding not to ask. “Don’t forget to lock up, and put back everything you borrowed, alright? I’ll see you in the morning.”

Ren waved as the door jangled shut behind him and hummed cheerfully as he worked.

“I take it you two idiots finally figured it out?” Morgana asked and Ren only grinned. At that point his face was starting to hurt from smiling so much. “Blech, glad I missed out.” The cat stretched languidly before hopping down and trotting up the stairs. “Congratulations, though. Taste notwithstanding, I’m happy for you two.”

“So you don’t want the play-by-play?” Ren called after him.

“I will steal your bed and make you sleep in a booth!”

#my writing #kiss ryuji day #persona 5 #pegoryu #akiryu #how obvious is it that I never write kissing like. ever. #no beta we die like [December spoilers] #which is to say. ambiguously. #oh my god I actually finished a wip it's a christmas miracle

[normal-thoughts-official]

I LOVE LOVE LOVE YOUR BEAUTY AND THE BEAST IDEA. But may I also propose: Magnus cursed from a young age (probably bc of Asmodeus) that anyone who touches him is hurt by a blast of magic he can't control. (This may result in his mother's death). He locks himself away of his own will. Alec teaches then that it's fear that makes him lash out. Featuring: touch starved Magnus.

this idea is GENIUS actually and i love it. tbh me and my friend have a similar idea that we talk to each other about (lol) but it isn't a B&B thing, its more of an adventure AU. anyway, lets go!

so in this universe i guess magnus banished asmodeus like in the original sh verse but asmodeus cursed him with the "everyone you touch will be in indescribable pain" thing. maybe just as revenge, maybe to try and use it as bargaining chip because okay magnus, is it freedom that u want? u want to be able to have ur own friends and ur own life? fine. get me back, and ill leave u alone, and ull be free to have friends again. if not, ull be still isolated just like before. so is it gonna be win-win, or lose-lose?

but magnus doesn't budge because he knows that if he lets asmodeus free things will only get worse not only for him, but for the whole world. he is too dangerous to be out there. so, magnus resigns to his fate

and i guess in this version he wouldnt have a lot of close friends because he had been with asmodeus his whole life before he was cursed, so he was just. alone in his self-imposed isolation with no one to talk to. maybe he enchants the furniture so they gain sentience but they can't really feel pain, so at least he has someone to talk to. god im so fucking sad already

so is the furniture his friends in canon? im not entirely sure how i feel about that but also the idea of ragnor as that clock from the original movie is great. thats my most important thought on the subject ngl

btw its 4 degrees Celsius in here so im typing with gloves on so ull have to excuse my typos i am a mere brazilian and i want death

anyway okay so i guess his friends are like pieces of furniture that he spelled into sentience and they aren't his servants or anything cuz that's gross but they just like, hang out. wow im actually managing to type pretty well all things considered

so at least magnus has people to talk to but he's still touch starved because you know... a clock can't hug you and that'd just be weird. maybe them becoming sentient was an accident? lmao like magnus just wanted to automate some functions like having the clock talk to tell him the time or something and it turned out that they became sentient. possibly his magic is a little fucky because of the curse so that's why that happened? or maybe he just is way more powerful than he realizes and we all know he invented the spells he used to try and automate the things anyway. but if he gets people to talk to, well, he's not complaining

im focusing too much on this. anyway. id also like to note that im making rapha the cook/stove thing because i mean, come on. it's right there

and ok i guess alec comes into this because he uhhhhhh no u know i might go with that izzy thing. so izzy ran away from home because of maryse's bullshit and alec was sent to bring her back. so he was going after her but in the middle of the path there was the whole wolf attack thing that scared off his horse and LUCKILY magnus' house/tower/whatever was right next!!! so of course they take alec and his horse in but also WHOOPS there's a huge snowstorm that lasts for days (par the course for where magnus lives, actually. he DID want somewhere people would avoid. but also i think maybe his magic being fucky has something to do with it) so i guess alec is stuck at magnus' for the foreseeable future

which is HELL for magnus because he is terrified out of his mind that they will accidentally touch and alec will be hurt. and like.... his Constant Crave For Touch is already bad on a regular day, but having someone who could actually hug him in theory just makes it worse, you know? he hasn't interacted with other human beings in so long, just having one there is enough to make his need for touch almost unbearable and just... completely constant. it's hell

so magnus is scared, which means that he keeps to himself. so he tells alec not to go into his room, he tries not to eat at the same time, and other stuff like that, bUT his friends keep sabotaging his plans because they want him to have another friend, jesus christ!! (rapha being like "come on now magnus, you don't want my soup to get cold, do you? i'll be deeply offended. i guess you have no choice but to eat with alec". so magnus goes but the first thing he does is magic his regular table into a gigantic rectangular table with 41908410 seats and seat on on the side opposite to alec. alec just sighs

so like he's constantly coming across as rude because he is trying to avoid alec, alec just doesn't know why

but alec is also a stubborn bitch who goes stir crazy and refuses to just sit around isolated doing nothing while they wait for the stupid storm to finally be over so he can go get his sister. and magnus saved his life, so it's the least he can do to repay him in some way. besides, this is what, the first time that he's been completely away from his mom? for such a long time too? and he's finding that he feels... weirdly free and just relieved and he doesn't want to waste that opportunity with standing idly around alone all day. he had enough of that at home, thank you very much

besides yeah magnus is being rude but alec is used to straight up assholes and abusers (jace. i'm talking about jace. also maryse ofc but mostly jace) and magnus is not that. in fact he makes very polite conversation and is actually pretty fun during dinner, all things considered. he's just.... super private, i guess

AND magnus' friends are all being a nightmare with the making them interact so you know. they end up interacting. and alec makes it a point to help him take care of his house because it is a certified Depression Lair™. magnus can take care of it magically but it's like... so dark and almost suffocating at times and there is stuff like bad painting and piping problems that he never bothered to fix because it isn't affecting the functionality too much but it DOES makes life harder and alec "everything must be at 100% always" lightwood is not here for it so for a few days they are working on fixing the house and... magnus actually feels a lot better when the place has actual sunlight and looks inviting and like a home, he has to admit. when he says that to alec it might be the first time he's given him a real smile and man, is alec smitten

sidenote i guess this means that magnus doesn't exactly... dress well in this au lmaoo i mean it makes sense too because canonically magnus uses dressing up as a way to convey an image of power and untouchability and he doesn't really need that in this AU since he is completely isolated. so i guess he is a bit more like twi magnus - bare-faced and wearing comfortable clothes and the like. this isn't a twi au i'm just saying that it makes more sense for him to dress like that in that context

anyway. after the whole house fixing thing, they officially become friends. it turns out that alec also knows a bit about what it's like to feel isolated and touch-starved (altho he's always had izzy to help in that department, but still) and also what crappy parents are like. magnus shows alec his little mirror that he's enchanted to be able to show him anything he wants and how he uses it to be able to see all the places in the world he'd like to visit - he loves people, he loves culture, and sometimes it's all he can do to watch what's going on in Mumbai and it makes him feel a little better, so, he does that. he also admits that sometimes he catches on some drama happening and uses the mirror to see the people involved and make sure they are okay. kinda like a soap opera of his own but he has the means to interfere and help because of magic, so he will have someone who's struggling with money suddenly find hidden cash or have an "unknown dead relative" give them a lot of money in their will, or something like that. and if he also watches some of their personal drama that unfolds, well. he is lonely and it's not hurting anyone

but magnus doesn't tell him about the curse, and he still makes sure to keep his distance. it stings a little to alec, but it hurts magnus the most because fuck, maybe he just desperately needs someone who will give him the time of day, but he likes this guy and that only makes it harder to keep his distance. he makes it a point to always be at at least two arms length from alec, which alec thankfully respects and doesn't try to get him to breach, but. shit. it's still so hard to not want to just rest his head on his shoulder or get a hug or even fucking touch pinkies like stupid children and he can't. alec even once jokingly suggests that they have a ball since magnus doesn't know how to dance and magnus is actually excited for a second before he remembers that he can't, it would have to mean that alec touches him, and he can't

someone - maybe ragnor - even suggests that maybe he could try gloves and heavy clothing so alec isn't really touching him but magnus refuses to try because he doesn't want to risk it not working and alec getting hurt, because he'd never forgive himself. besides, getting a taste would only make it hurt more. he can't. he can't

but it's alright because at least he has some human company - he loves his friends, he does, fiercely, but it's different when they kind of have no choice but to be with him and also are enchanted creatures. he doesn't even know if they aren't nice to him just because he enchanted them into life, even tho to be fair if he had a choice ragnor wouldn't be that grouchy - and alec makes him laugh and gets him and helped make his place feel more like home, a little bit. and he can pretend that he feels the warmth from alec's body when they are sitting by the fire and feed these crumbs to his desperate need for touch and company

and then the snowstorm ends and it's time for alec to go

honestly, alec himself is kind of heartbroken, but- he loves his sister, and he can't just leave her alone in god knows where, even if he dreads the thought of coming back home now that he's been away from his family for so long. but magnus doesn't want to keep him, and doesn't want alec to feel pity for him, so he's all but pushing alec out of the door (not literally, of course. he can't do that, it would mean touching him) all "go, go, you never know when another storm might start. go see your sister. take my mirror, you can find her more easy". and alec's all "but it's been the only thing-" and magnus waves him off, of course, all "i can always make myself another one. besides, you'll have something to remember me by. now go"

so.... alec goes

and hooo boy magnus is heartbroken and a mess because even tho he knew how much having someone else there helped he had almost forgotten what it was like to be the only human in the house. he just feels extra lonely and even kind of bad about it because hey, his friends are there - not that they begrudge him for it, of course. it's not like they don't also hope for the chance to get out of the house and do other things, but well. they can't. so they understand him. and they know how awful he's feeling right then, but what can they do?

meanwhile alec finds izzy pretty quickly - she's living with this one insufferable villager named clary that alec absolutely can't stand, but- she's happy. and she doesn't want to come back, which alec expected, but he finds that he can't actually insist for her to come back. how could he, when he himself doesn't want to go?

and izzy insists that he stays with her - there's no reason for him to come back. they can stay in the village, and work, and build a life for themselves. alec is the only thing she's been missing ever since she left, and in here the both of them can actually be happy. and do it together, like they're meant to

and when he first gets into the village is the first time since izzy ran away that he was hugged and fuck, it's hard to say no to her

but also... he misses magnus already

and he doesn't know if he can just stay and leave him behind

and of course izzy is like "who is magnus?" so alec tells her the story, how he was attacked by wolves and rescued by this house that miraculously was in the middle of the single most inhospitable placealec had ever seen in his life. and the kind but wary stranger who always keeps his distance but seems so eager for connection, who made alec feel welcome and laugh and feel like he built a life for himself there

and clary tells him that she's heard of the story, but she never knew it was more than a legend - no one really remembers what happened. some say that magnus made a sacrifice to rid the village of a demon, and it turned him into a beast, forever locked in his castle. some say that he himself is the demon, and it's the tower that's containing him and keeping the village safe. some even say that he died battling the demon, and it's his ghost that keeps watch on the tower

she wants alec to explain which one is true, but it's all alec can say that none of these are right and he knows nothing because magnus never told him. all alec knows is that he doesn't want to leave magnus behind

and clary is like... well, if he's not a demon or a ghost, maybe we could bring him to the village too. he has magic, right? he could bring the tower closer. and maybe the other villagers could, you know, visit him and hang out. and he wouldn't be as lonely, and then alec and izzy could both stay

driven by this failproof plan, they decide to go back to magnus and tell him their great idea

except they are IDIOTS and forget about. you know. the damn wolves

and like holy shit is this pack big or what? like no seriously why are there infinite wolves in that one singular pack in beauty and the beast. like holy shit dude there's more wolves near the beast's house than in the whole yellowstone park

anyway there are Many Wolves and while alec is a good archer, izzy is a fantastic fighter, and clary is Fucking Crazy if you give her something stabby, there's only so many wolves they can take on at the same time

good thing magnus is a pining idiot who did in fact make himself another magic mirror and was watching alec with it. so he knows that the dumbass is in trouble and for the first time in years, he uses the portal (his own invention, and he had never gotten to use it before!) to get to them and fight off the wolves

so magnus saves all their lives, at the cost of getting severely injured and passing the fuck out. izzy, who's the one closest, runs to get to him and help put him on one of their horses... and is immediately hit by a blast of magic that almost makes HER pass tf out too

which is when they finally learn that, oh. that is the curse

izzy is fine, of course - the pain ended as soon as she was away from magnus

but it does pose the problem of How The Fuck Are They Getting Him Back To Safety, because they can't exactly wait for magnus to wake up (it's freezing, for starters) but with this amount of pain it won't be physically possible for them to hoist him up and get him on the horse. shit, will the curse work on the horse?

they bring alec's horse (by far the strongest of them because alec is huge buff mcgee) and try to get him to touch magnus and the spell does NOT work on the horse because in order to be dramatic asmodeus was like "you shall never feel human touch again" when he cast the spell, which accidentally gave a LOOPHOLE for non-human animals. so magnus could have had cats the whole time, which he had always dreamed of, but he didnt want to risk testing. besides, his house would be a poor environment for a cat and [self torture noises]

anyway thats one less problem to deal with, 99 to go, so they use some ropes to hoist magnus on top of the horse and bring him back to the tower (it's closer than the village) so they can tend to his wounds. thankfully, as the assigned Big Brother of a very irresponsible izzy, alec has experience with first aid, altho he never really dealt with anything quite this bad. and magnus' friends help, too, as much as they can. inevitably this means that alec ends up touching him even if by accident sometimes, but he knows what to expect so he Powers Through It because he won't let magnus die, damn. and as horrible as that is alec has experience with powering through pain, so. he's gonna bandage him up god damn it

izzy can't stand to see him dealing with that himself tho, so she helps, and clary ends up helping as well because they figure sharing the pain makes it easier and alec doesn't have to be too hurt. minimal touching accidents for alec! good

*narrator voice* And Then Magnus Wakes Up And Alec Hugs Him

full on launches on top of him and brings him into his arms and Magnus screams like NONONO OH MY GOD WHAT ARE YOU DOING ALEC NO GET OFF ME YOU'LL BE HURT and his shock and distress at the whole thing sends another whole blast of magic that explodes that whole mf before it can touch alec and alec feels no pain and magnus is like.............. did i just COUNTER the spell? and everyone's like well! it looks like u did!

which earns him ANOTHER hug (oh my god alec stop he's so stressed out by this) (who knew alec was so touchy?) and this time he's paying attention to that gut reaction and because magnus is a Certified Magic Genius he realizes what it is that he's doing to counter the spell and immediately starts working on a way to turn this into unhexxing himself for good

which he DOES after some time idk how long but alec stays with him meanwhile and maybe izzy and clary do too, because magnus needs all the company he can get and besides, izzy has always wanted adventure and clary has never left the village before, so this is interesting to them at least. and magnus gets to meet new ppl which is nice

eventually the Begone Spell spell is performed and it works and turns out that when it does that it also unfucks magnus' magic and perfects his sentience spell turning all of his friends into humans WOW WHOD HAVE THOUGHT. so all of them are free to leave the tower as ppl at the same time and GROUP HUG!! and magnus cries like a baby in the group hug because holy shit hes been needing something like this so bad for so long and he never expected to have that with his friends but here he is :)

and then yeah they all move to the village to live a simple but fulfilling life and Magnus and Alec start living together in a little cottage and become husbands the end <3 this is so long too rip me

#sh #shadowhunters #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #izzy lightwood #lightwood siblings #clizzy if u squint #beauty and the beast au #part 2 i guess lmao #ask #shum-baby #long post #abuse mention

[bytheangell]

If You Don't Belong, Don't Be Long

( @shadowhunterbingo​ square: Body Swap) (Read on AO3)

Magnus is immediately aware that something is wrong. The last thing he remembers is the potion he was making starting to smoke before exploding in his face, and then nothing.

Nothing until now, when he begins to stir back to consciousness with the immediate feeling that something is wrong. Something is horribly wrong. It takes him a moment to pinpoint exactly what that something is: he isn’t breathing. The immediate panic sets in that he’s dead, which isn’t entirely incorrect. It’s just that he also isn’t himself, either.

“Simon? Simon, are you alright?”

The concerned voice hovering over him is Isabelle’s. Magnus almost doesn’t allow himself to open his eyes because he isn’t sure he wants to confirm his suspicions, but in the end, he can’t put it off any longer. Allowing his eyelids to flutter open he sees a very worried Isabelle Lightwood leaning over him - but it isn’t him she’s leaning over. It’s Simon’s body.

He’s in Simon’s body.

“I’m not Simon,” Magnus says. “And I’m most certainly not alright.”

A moment later Izzy’s phone begins to ring. “With any luck, that will be your brother,” Magnus says, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. “If my hunch is right, he’s the one you’ll want to ask about Simon.”

---

“...Magnus?”

The world comes to around him, but instead of being in the Institute where he’d been having lunch with Isabelle, Simon blinks his eyes open to see a room he doesn’t immediately recognize.

“Magnus? Say something. What happened? Should I call Cat?”

Simon immediately recognizes the voice even before Alec’s face focuses into view after a few blinks. It’s then that the area behind him - Magnus’ apothecary in his Loft - registers.

“Wha-” Simon starts to say, then notices the sound of his voice - which is not his voice. And the hand he lifts from the floor to prop himself up isn’t his hand, either. “What the fuck!?”

Simon sits up abruptly enough in his panic that he collides his forehead directly into Alec’s, who starts to lean down at the same time to get a closer look.

“Shit, sorry, Alec,” Simon apologizes instinctively, rubbing at the dull ache in his forehead. He’s surprised by the immediate blue wisps of magic that come into view, moving in a wave over his face. The ache from the impact fades… and then the rest of his face turns entirely numb. “Oh no, I can’t feel my face.”

“Okay, now I’m really worried. Magnus, what’s-”

“Simon. I’m Simon. Alec, what the hell is going on? Why am I in Magnus’ body? What weird Freaky Friday fortune cookie scenario is happening to me right now?”

Alec, to his credit, remains much calmer about this than he probably should, if only to counter Simon’s obvious panicked spiral. “Simon?”

Simon nods.

“Okay…” Alec starts slowly, though Simon can’t imagine any part of this is actually ‘okay’. “Where were you when you… when this happened?”

Simon pauses for a moment. “The last thing I remember was being with Izzy, at the Institute.”

Alec has his phone out before Simon can finish the sentence.

“Iz? Are you with… well, Simon’s body, but it isn’t-” Alec starts, and Simon fidgets with the rings on his (Magnus’) hands when Alec falls abruptly silent, then nods to himself. “Yes. Alright, so that’s… that’s good, right? That they’re both…” Alec pauses again, this time turning to face Simon. “Are you alright?”

Simon holds out his hands, turning them over in front of him. “I mean… I’m as alright as being trapped in Magnus’ body can be, I guess? I could definitely be worse. I mean, not that this is great, but I guess if I have to end up in someone else’s body it’s a good body to-”

Alec cuts him off.

“He’s fine. Still very much... Simon,” Alec says into the phone.

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” Simon says indignantly, but Alec is already ignoring him in favor of the phone again.

“Alright, see you in a few,” Alec says before pocketing his phone. “They’ll be here as soon as they can. I don’t suppose you can open a portal, can you?”

Simon shakes his head. “I wouldn’t risk it. I just made my entire face numb when I accidentally tried to heal the bump on my forehead.”

Alec sighs. “Right. How about you don’t do any magic at all until Magnus gets here? I’d like my husband’s physical body intact, please.”

“I’m not so sure I have any actual control over it,” Simon admits, and he can’t keep the slight tremor of nervousness out of his tone at the sight of light blue sparks dancing across his fingertips. “But I’ll try. Promise.”

Simon does try. He also fails, several times, resulting in scorch marks on one of Magnus’ Persian rugs, a broken coffee mug, and a vase that Simon only partially broke, but then tried to use magic to fix and completely obliterated in the process.

“That’s it,” Alec finally mutters. “You’re sitting in the corner and not moving or touching anything until Magnus gets here.”

Simon wonders if Alec is joking or being serious until a moment later when he grabs a chair from the dining room and drags it over to the corner of the loft. Oh. Not joking, then.

Simon almost argues, except after all the trouble he’s caused trying to exist with magic at his fingertips maybe it is for the best if he just does as little existing as possible for now. So Simon sits in the corner, humming to himself until a knock at the front door grabs his attention. He spins around to see Izzy and Magnus - but Magnus in his body, which is way weirder than he anticipated - walk through the door.

“Why is Simon in the corn--” Simon hears his voice start to ask, then fall silent at the shattered remains of the vase and the scorch mark not far from it. “Nevermind.”

Simon winces. “Yeah, uh, sorry about that. But man, am I glad to see you.”

“Don’t be too glad,” Magnus says. “Because I don’t have the slightest idea how to fix this.”

---

Several fire messages and phone calls later, Magnus is only slightly closer to figuring out what went wrong and how to even begin working a counter-spell to reverse the effects.

“Simon’s hair was the only vampire hair sample I had on me, so that must’ve been the connection that tethered us together for the switch,” Magnus says, which is more guesswork than hard fact but it’s the only thing that makes sense. It’s a starting point if nothing else.

It doesn’t help that Magnus has to stop and drink blood, which he immediately hates the idea of, but the longer he puts it off the less focused he gets. It brings back too many unwelcome memories of his time with Camille and all that terrible business with de Quincy. He thought he knew the feeling, thought he understood, but nothing could prepare him for what that instinctive hunger truly feels like.

There are also moments when he becomes suddenly aware that his heart isn’t beating, and needs to take some time to bring himself down from that immediate panic of something being wrong. Each time Alec seems to sense it and stands a little closer, not too close as to crowd, but enough that when Magnus reaches out to feel the warmth of Alec’s hand or the pulse at his boyfriend’s wrist he’s always right there, waiting.

“I hate this,” Magnus mutters to Alec while they’re alone, with Isabelle and Simon out on a food run. He takes the time to lean against Alec’s side, hoping his need to be held just then isn’t too weird for Alec.

“I know you do,” Alec agrees, and to his credit doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around Magnus, allowing Magnus to sink into the embrace. “But you’ll figure it out. You’ll fix it. I believe in you.”

That makes one of us, Magnus thinks bitterly, looking across the pages and pages of handwritten notes.

The breakthrough comes when a thorough test of each individual ingredient catches one that isn’t pure, something Magnus picked up weeks ago at a Shadow Market in Italy. From there it’s easy enough for him and Tessa to reverse-engineer a counterspell and potion. Everything seems to be falling into place perfectly until they get to the end and realize one big problem.

It’s a simple enough spell for someone of Magnus’ skill level. And if Magnus was the one performing it they could be back in their bodies by nightfall. Unfortunately...

---

“What do you mean I have to do it?” Simon asks, already shaking his head back and forth. “No. There’s no way! Did you see what I did earlier? Alec, tell them how bad I am at magic!”

Alec looks concerned enough to back up Simon’s claims without speaking at all. “It… wasn’t great,” Alec admits. “You’re sure there’s no other way?”

“No,” Magnus insists. “It has to be Simon. More specifically, it has to be my magic, the same magic that initiated the swap.” Magnus looks over at him with what Simon is sure is meant to be a reassuring smile, but unfortunately, Simon knows all too well what his own face looks like when he’s trying to fake reassurances. It’s absolutely the face staring up at him now.

“Can’t you like, mind-control me and do it, I dunno, through me or something?” Simon suggests hopefully. “You could Encanto me!”

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that.”

“We’re doomed,” Simon sighs, slumping Magnus’ body dramatically down into the chair. “We’re going to be stuck like this forever.”

“Please don’t say that,” Alec says. “No offense, but I don’t particularly want to kiss… your body, for lack of better phrasing,” Alec says, motioning to Magnus in Simon’s body.

Izzy glances over at Simon in Magnus’ body with a hint of a smirk. “I dunno, I wouldn’t be opposed to-”

“Izzy!” Simon immediately objects. “Gross! C’mon, Iz” Alec cuts her off at the same time.

“I’m kidding! Just trying to lighten the mood,” she says. “Listen, Simon. You can do this. I know you can. Magnus is going to walk you through it. We’re all going to be here for moral support… and as backup just in case. Not that you’ll need it, because it’s going to be totally fine.”

Izzy crosses over to him and takes his hands in her own, giving them a comforting squeeze. It feels strange to hold her hands like this, something that should be reassuring and familiar feeling too jarringly foreign while he’s in Magnus’ body. He can only imagine how weird it must be for Magnus, inside the body of a teenager who doesn’t have a beating heart.

They need to fix this. Obviously. And if he has to be the one to do it, then… well, then he’s just going to have to figure out a way. He’s relied on others to fix his problems more than once, so it’s only fair he takes a turn fixing one this time around. Even if it is a really, really big one. With potentially terrible consequences for messing up.

“Yeah. I’m sure it’ll be… totally fine,” Simon says, echoing Izzy, though sounding about as confident as a man about to jump out of a plane with no parachute.

Magic, much like being a vampire at the start, does not come instinctively to Simon. As eager as they are to get back into their actual bodies, they both agree to take as long as they need to until they’re confident Simon can complete the spell without messing it up.

It takes five days. Simon can’t help but feel the impatience and frustration growing from the others (namely Alec) with every day that passes, but Magnus reassures Simon that it’s fine. Better to get it right than end up doing even more damage, potentially something irreversible this time.

So it’s nearly a week later when Magnus makes the potion, with the help of Simon using his magic as needed before it’s time for them to drink it and for Simon to complete the spell. Simon draws the sigil on the floor in black ash flawlessly - after how often he practiced it he could probably draw it in his sleep, but it’s still a pleasant surprise to not need a single re-do.

When it comes time to summon the magic for the spell itself, he can only hope that five days was enough practice on how to call what he needs and not anything more, or anything malicious. Simon does his best to ignore the tense forms of Alec and Isabelle waiting off to the side of the room, just in case-

No. No just in case. They aren’t going to need them to get help because he can do this. He has to be able to do this.

Simon locks eyes with Magnus, who nods once - then Simon calls forth the magic and speaks the incantation.

Slowly, the corners of the sigil begin to glow, the dim light shifting toward the center. A sudden burst of blinding light rises up around them, reminding Simon of the flash grenades he’s seen in countless movies and video games. It’s the last thought he has before everything goes black.

---

Magnus can feel the familiar weight of his own body before he even opens his eyes. He’s overly aware of his fingers and toes on the ends of arms that are the right length once more, of the comfortingly soft silk against his torso from his shirt, and the slight chill of the cool air along the shaved sides of his head as he blinks his eyes open and sits up from the floor.

“Magnus? Are you, you?” Alec asks. He and Isabelle both stand at the edge of the circle, obviously unsure as to whether crossing it would ruin anything.

“I’m me, Alexander,” Magnus confirms, holding his hand up to bring a small ball of magic into his palm before allowing it to fade away again. He’s exhausted but manages a small smile just the same. “You can step into the circle, it’s over now.”

The Lightwoods don’t need to be told twice, and a moment later Alec is helping Magnus up while Izzy kneels beside Simon, brushing a strand of hair out of his face as he beings to stir.

“I never thought I’d see the day that not feeling my heartbeat would be reassuring,” Simon mutters, still sprawled on the ground but with open eyes. Magnus watches Izzy laugh before kissing Simon and looks away just in time for Alec to bring a hand to the side of his face before kissing him as well.

“I never want to go that many days without kissing you ever again,” Alec whispers the words against Magnus’ lips, barely pulling back enough to speak them.

“Next time I end up in another body I’ll try not to make it your sister’s boyfriend so we can still make out in the interim,” Magnus whispers back, earning him a light hit on the side of the arm from Alec who pulls away fully, laughing.

After days of nothing but strain and worry, it’s nice to hear such easy laughter coming from any of them again, but especially from Alec. It’s just one of many sounds he can’t wait to hear from Alec again - hopefully sooner rather than later.

Magnus hadn't meant for his mind to turn there, but once it does it's all he can think about. Simon and Isabelle must catch the look Magnus and Alec share because a moment later they’re asking for a portal back to the Institute, which Magnus opens with his usual flourish and ease.

It’s certainly good to be back.

#magnus bane #simon lewis #malec #alec lightwood #isabelle lightwood #sizzy #shadowhunters #bodyswap #ShadowhunterBingo #hmdiscord #long post #elle writes a few deadbeat lines #elle talks too much

[marjansmarwani]

the truth always was

[Read on Ao3]

Owen has watched his son suffer and hurt, and he wants nothing more than for him to heal and find happiness again. So when he notices a certain young Officer appearing more and more, he takes notice and makes an effort to get to know this Carlos Reyes.

Or, Tarlos from Owen's perspective

---

Tarlos Week Day 4: Tarlos and Owen + fun

Day 4 of @tarlosweek2020 and I’m not sure how much “fun” is in this (there’s some though!) but it is definitely Owen and Tarlos so I think that’s good for the prompt, right? 

-----

Owen watched as his son disappeared from the bar on the arm of the young cop from earlier. He wasn’t naive - his son was 26 and no saint, and under normal circumstances, Owen wouldn’t even blink an eye. 

 But these were not normal circumstances by a long shot. 

 He could still see the image of his son unconscious, unmoving, not breathing on the floor of his apartment just a few short weeks ago. It was an image that would be forever ingrained in his mind; burned there by the panic and fear he had felt in that moment. 

 He would do whatever it took to make sure they never ended up there again. He still believed that his son had a good head on his shoulders, but he was in turmoil; still reeling from everything that had come before, from the changes it had caused. As much as he wanted to let him be, as much as TK would want him to let him try and fail on his own he knew he wouldn't be able to. He knew that he couldn’t just leave it be - not when the risk was so high. 

 Even if that meant keeping a closer eye than usual on his son and his romantic escapades; even if it meant stepping in where he normally would not. He knew the idea wouldn’t go over well with TK, but the fear of losing his son for good was louder than TK’s discomfort. 

 At least, Owen reasoned grimly as he took another sip of his beer, if his son ended up hating him for this, he would be alive to do so. 

 ------

There is something going on between his son and Officer Reyes, but he’s not quite sure what. 

 Though to be fair, he’s not too certain they know either. 

 They stand closer to each other than strictly necessary at calls and TK must be delusional if he thinks no one notices how much he brightens when he sees the young officer. He knows that TK keeps disappearing, coming and going at odd hours but he believes him when he says he doesn’t need to worry; that there are no substances involved. From what little he has seen of the young officer, he’s fairly certain he approves. He seems like someone solid; someone he can trust with his son’s happiness. 

 Owen still keeps an eye out, still watches for red flags. He wants to pull TK closer, to find him a protective bubble just to give his nerves a break. And he is ready and willing to step in as soon as the situation warrants it. But he loves his son more than anything and as much has he wants to shield him, he has come to accept that the only way for him to truly ever heal is to do it himself, despite how hard it is for Owen to watch him struggle. 

 That doesn’t change the concern he feels when TK lets himself into the house one night, fuming and swearing under his breath; opening and closing the drawers and doors in his bedroom with far too much force. Owen allows himself a quick check-in, just to make sure that there is nothing truly wrong. When he sees TK whole and unmarked, not willing to talk about it and very truly pissed off, he makes his exit - leaving his son to stew and work through whatever this is on his own. 

 When TK attempts to sneak in unnoticed just a few nights later and Owen - up in the pursuit of some water - catches sight of the blood and bruises gracing his skin, his heart plummets. He immediately closes the distance between them, eyes roving his son, searching for any sign of further injury or harm. 

 “What happened? Are you okay?” he asks, voice taut with worry.  

 TK’s eyes flick away from him, his busted lip pulling into a straight line. “Nothing, I’m fine.” 

 “TK…” 

 “I did something stupid, but I’m okay,” TK announced, looking up. Catching sight of the desperate fear in Owen’s eyes he adds, more gently, “not that stupid.” 

 Owen allowed himself to breathe for a moment before studying his son one more time. These were injuries caused by fists; injuries found after a fight. His heart rate quickened. 

 “What happened TK?” 

  Who did this to you? Was the unasked question. 

 “I got into a bar fight with some random guys. It’s fine, no charges - it was stupid, but it’s all good.”

 “No...no charges? Tyler Kennedy Strand, were you  arrested ?” 

 “But not charged?” TK offered nervously. Owen stared back at him. They stood in silence at the edge of the kitchen for several moments before Owen groaned and ran a weary hand down his face. “TK…” 

 “Dad, I know I did something  unbelievably stupid…”

 “You’ve got that part right.”

 “...but I think that maybe it finally gave me the clarity I needed. I’m just...going through some stuff right now and....”

 “And what? TK, I’m trying to help you, but this…” he paused and ran his eyes over the bruises. There was blood soaking the collar of his white t-shirt. “This is something I don’t know what to help with. I don’t know what’s going on and frankly, it’s scaring the hell out of me. What can I do?”  

 “I don’t know,” TK admitted softly, “I don’t think there is anything. I think I need to figure it out on my own.”

 Owen sighed heavily. He had known that answer, but it went against every single fatherly instinct he had. But his son was an adult and he knew what he needed better than anyone. “Can you just  try  not to get arrested again anytime soon?”

 TK gave him a small grin, “I’ll do my best.”

 “That’s all I’m asking.” 

 TK nodded and started to walk away, but Owen called him back. 

 “You know I am here though if you need anything, right?”

 “I know Dad,” he answered softly. Then with another smile, he was gone and Owen was left alone in the kitchen. 

 He leaned against the counter and ran a weary hand down his face. He desperately hoped that stepping back was the right choice. He didn’t know what he would do if anything happened to TK. He couldn’t go through that again. He couldn’t help but wonder how Officer Reyes fit into all of this. He had no idea, but he was determined to find out.  

--------- 

He is still pondering the mystery of Carlos Reyes over a late-night cup of tea at the station when Captain Blake joins him. It had become something of an unspoken ritual after the first time. They drink their tea in silence until Owen decides he may as well ask the question that has been lingering in his mind. 

 “What do you know about Officer Reyes?” 

 “Carlos?” Michelle asked, looking up from her mug with a startled expression, “Quite a lot actually - why do you ask?” 

 “Just between us, I think something is going on between him and TK and I just...want to know if I need to be worried.” 

 “I can assure you that Carlos Reyes would never do anything to intentionally hurt anyone.”

 Owen raised an eyebrow, “You seem pretty certain of that.” 

 Michelle shrugged as she stirred her tea, “I am. He is one of my closest friends.” 

 Owen couldn’t even hide the surprise he felt at that even if he had wanted to, “I had no idea.” 

 Michelle nodded, “He was friends with my sister when they were growing up and after she went missing, he helped me out a lot. He still does. We’ve gotten really close over the past couple of years. I would trust Carlos Reyes with my life without hesitation, and I can say with complete certainty that you don’t have to worry about him with TK. He is a good person - one of the best I know.”

 Owen gave her a smile and though their conversation veered in another direction, he ruminated over what she had said. It was still on his mind as they left the kitchen and headed to their respective bunks. He lay staring at the ceiling for a long while, wondering if it was truly possible that TK had found someone as good as Michelle said. He loved his son dearly, but past experience had shown that his taste in men was questionable at best. The thought that maybe he had found someone actually worthy of his time and affection thrilled Owen. 

 But even that feeling was wrapped in caution. Owen knew his son. After everything that had happened, he was gun shy; likely unwilling to fully give himself over to anyone. Owen understood that - he had every reason to be cautious. He just hoped that he didn’t miss out on a good thing because he was scared. He hoped if he had feelings for this man, that he didn’t push him away. He hoped that maybe, against all odds, his son might finally find the happiness and love he deserved. 

 As he rolled over in another attempt to sleep his last fleeting thought was that he hoped this Officer Reyes was up to the challenge. 

---------- 

As the Texas winter faded into spring and the temperatures began to rise to what Owen considered early summer heat, he couldn’t help but notice that TK seemed happier. He seemed lighter; he smiled more. Owen could almost see the person he had once known before Alex, before the overdose. It made his heart swell and helped him sleep a little easier at night. 

 He had a feeling that a certain young officer had something to do with it and while he wasn’t about to thank him outright (though he longed too) he was making an effort to get to know the young man a little better - inconspicuously, of course. 

 He made it a point to speak with Officer Reyes whenever the opportunity presented itself, he listened to Michelle’s stories of their escapades keenly. He wanted to get to a better idea of who this person was. Michelle could (and had, on multiple occasions) spend an hour singing her friend’s praises and while he did trust her and her judgment, it was clear she was more than a little biased. 

 These little conversations pay off and more and more of the picture that is Carlos Reyes reveals itself to Owen. He is startled to realize that one day without him truly knowing it, he had come to like the young officer all on his own. He was polite and compassionate, professional and even-tempered. Owen had been startled the first time he heard him crack a wry joke as they were wrapping up at a call, but he had come to learn that Carlos Reyes had quite the sense of humor when he wasn’t wrapping himself in professionalism. 

 He was pretty certain that the young officer in question was a good part of what was making his son happier these days, and he could certainly see the appeal. 

----------- 

Owen had known nothing but pure terror since the moment he realized what had happened. The instant he connected the sound and the blood splatter to the image of his son collapsing onto the hallway floor; panic and fear had engulfed him and they hadn’t left. Even now in the relative calm of the storm, now that the immediate danger was behind them and all that was left was the waiting, he could still feel the fear pulsing through his veins. 

 But he had only ever seen his son this still one other time, and that was a time he had spent months trying to forget. To see it again after everything TK had been through, after all the work he had done to heal was just as heartbreaking as it was terrifying. He was facing the very real possibility of losing his son for good, and he couldn’t handle that. He was dreading the worst and knew that it would destroy him, should it come to pass. He squeezed the limp hand in his grasp again, praying for some response; some proof that his son was still with him. 

 None came. 

 He could feel the tears from earlier threatening to return, but the sound of hurried footsteps coming to a halt outside the door distracted him enough to push them off - for now. 

 He turned to see Carlos Reyes in the doorway. His chest was heaving as if he had run here and his red-rimmed eyes were filled with a look that was all too familiar to Owen - desperation and fear. 

 “Officer Reyes,” he said by way of greeting, “would you like some time with him?” 

 Carlos pulled his eyes from the bed before them where he had been studying for TK, looking for any sign of life, and turned his gaze to Owen. He swallowed before he choked out: “I don’t want to impose.” 

 Owen could almost feel his heart breaking all over again. He could feel how much this man cared for his son in the waver of his voice; he could see how much TK meant to him. He had had his suspicions but to have the confirmation now - when TK wasn’t here to receive the love that he so desperately deserved - was just another cruelty piled on. He pulled himself up from the chair he had been glued to for the past two hours and crossed to the young officer. He stopped in front of him, placing a hand on his shoulder as he spoke, “I think he would appreciate it. I know I would.” 

 He let his hand linger on the younger man’s shoulder as he held his gaze. There was so much he wanted to say that he couldn’t bring himself to say aloud.  I know  , for starters; but  thank you,  most of all. 

 Carlos nodded and Owen had the feeling that he understood. He clapped his shoulder again and stepped out of the room, clearing the path to TK’s bedside. He lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching as Carlos closed the distance quickly, as he fell into the chair beside the bed. As he reached out a tender hand to caress TK’s face, as he used his other hand to wipe away the tears that had begun to slide down his own. 

 He allowed himself this pause, this momentary intrusion to see for himself how well Carlos loved his son. Despite it all, Owen allowed himself the smallest of smiles. 

 It looked like TK had finally found the love he had always wanted for him - now he just needed to wake up. 

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

As the batter made contact with the ball and sent it sailing into the outfield Carlos and Owen gave a cry of surprise in unison. 

 “I did not think he could hit like that,” Carlos noted with a shake of his head as the watched the player in question take a leisurely jog around the bases, allowing the rest of his team to cross home plate while the other team scrambled to find the ball in the outfield. 

 “I don’t think the other team knew either,” Owen responded with a chuckle, “but based on the first half of the game, who would’ve guessed?” 

 The two men were sitting in the Strand’s living room, watching the Houston Astro’s game while dinner cooked in the oven. Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and they turned to see TK enter. He paused on the threshold, eyes widening in surprise at the sight of his father and his boyfriend sitting together on the couch. 

 “Hi guys,” he said skeptically as he set down his keys, “what are you up to?” 

 “Watching the game, waiting for you,” Owen responded as Carlos beamed at TK from beside him. “How was your meeting?” 

 “It was good,” he responded, walking around the couch to plop down next to Carlos, who immediately wrapped an arm around his shoulders to pull him closer. “Have you really just been watching baseball this entire time? I have been gone for a while.” 

 Owen shot Carlos an exasperated look, “TK has never shared my appreciation for anything athletic.”

 TK rolled his eyes when Carlos gave him a curious look, “It’s not that I don’t like them, it’s more that I don’t really enjoy  watching them and significant experience has shown me that I am not good at participating in organized sports.”

 Owen chuckled appreciatively at that, “That’s true. I remember this one time you tried out for the basketball team and…” 

 “And this is me changing the subject,” TK cut across, speaking loudly to drown out Owen’s story. “How’s the game?” 

 Carlos shrugged as Owen, still chuckling, reached for his glass of iced tea, “Not bad. I mean, it’s no Yankee’s game…”

 He stopped at the sound of Owen choking on his iced tea. Both TK and Carlos shot him concerned looks until he managed to stop coughing long enough to speak. 

 “You’re a Yankee’s fan Carlos?” 

 Carlos nodded, “I mean, the Astros are the closest thing we have to a home team here in Austin, but if I want to watch quality baseball then there is nothing better than the Yankees.” 

 There is silence for a moment before Owen turns to TK with a serious expression, “If you don’t marry this boy, I just might.” 

 Carlos instantly blushes and looks away, but TK just rolls his eyes and groans, “Really dad?” 

 Owen holds up his hands defensively. “I’m just saying.” 

 TK shakes his head but turns back to Carlos who is still trying to look anywhere but at them and allows a small smile to spread across his face. He reaches over to gently turn Carlos’s face to meet his and gives him a light kiss. 

 “Ignore him, you should know that by now,” he tells Carlos who chuckles sheepishly. TK turns back to Owen, giving Carlos a moment to gather himself again. 

 “Did I miss anything else exciting since you two have apparently been hanging out since I’ve been gone?” 

 Owen shrugged, “We made dinner, it’s cooking right now and...oh!” he exclaimed leaning forward with a grin as he recalls, “You are officially off the hook because it turns out your boyfriend here golfs and he and I have a tee time scheduled next week.” 

 TK turns back to Carlos with raised eyebrows, “What, I leave for a few hours and you two suddenly become best friends?” 

 Carlos nods solemnly, “It’s true. Your dad is becoming dangerously close to being my favorite Strand.” 

 “Well, I have a few ideas as to how I can change that.” 

 Owen sighs wearily, “And that is my cue to leave the room before I see something I don’t want to ever see.”

 He gets up and gathers the glasses from the end table to bring with him into the kitchen. He turns back after he has deposited them in the sink and sees a sight that makes him pause. TK and Carlos are wrapped up in each other; talking closely. The smile on TK’s face shines even from the next room. As he watches Carlos places a light kiss on his son’s forehead and TK smile grows even more leaning down so he is tucked into the crook of Carlos's neck. 

 Owen turns away before they can notice him watching; before they can see the tears glimmering in his eyes. After everything, seeing his son this happy is enough to nearly make his heart burst. These past few weeks, in the aftermath of the shooting and the solar flare, somewhere amongst the tragedy and pain TK had found himself again. The person he saw each morning was no longer the stranger that had been born of betrayal and heartbreak. Now it was  his son - the TK he had known and loved his entire life. He was happier than words could express to have his son back; to see him happy once again. 

 Owen had had a strong suspicion that Carlos Reyes had had a roll in that transformation, but to see them like this; to see that smile on his son’s face - well, Owen knew two things for sure. 

 One, he was grateful for Carlos Reyes. 

 Two, TK finally had the love Owen had always wanted for him; the love he had always deserved.

 [Ao3]

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlosweek2020 #Owen Strand #tk strand #carlos reyes #my writing

[artificialqueens]

Devoted: Stream (Katlaska) - Kamylove

Sixth in my collection of unrelated one-shot ficlets. This time with Covid!

Young, untreated, self-medicating Katya was an introvert whose greatest fear was embarrassing herself.

Sober, almost-38-year-old Katya is an extroverted introvert who embarrasses herself daily and whose love language (and she only knows this thanks to Trixie the romantic, honest) is touch, and whose attention span is shorter than a ferret's.

Self-quarantine is killing her.

She was in Europe when shit started going to hell. She got out just in time, flew home to have her temperature taken at LAX, and was told to lock herself up for two weeks before she could see another human being.

It sucks.

Other queens (including Alaska, damn her) are doing Instagram lives, dragging up for shows on Twitch, collecting tips on Venmo and Paypal. Katya's ADD ass can't get herself together to unpack, let alone do her job virtually, but she still craves the attention.

Worst of all, Alaska is quarantining somewhere else. Somewhere Katya can't go. Somewhere that is not their house.

Alaska was home in LA when it happened, the lucky bitch. Alaska is a hypochondriac who would lose her mind if she had to shelter in place all alone, and Katya didn’t want to risk infecting her or the staff of a hotel. So Alaska, after much convincing, had decamped to the house she used to share with her best friend.

She's facetiming Katya every day, several many times a day, and dropping off care packages on the front steps. But Alaska needs drag to stay sane, so she's up in everyone's Insta, writing new damn songs for digital drag shows, agreeing to another and another and another show every hour. Or that's what it feels like to Katya.

Trixie's up on Insta, too, and Twitch. Trixie's doing live performances from her condo. PEG was even smart enough to invite Fena to do a digital show, which is fierce and fabulous because Fena is fierce and fabulous and Katya loves her like a brother.

But Katya's still got all those emails and voicemails sitting untouched on her phone. You'd think she'd be dying for any variety of human contact, and she is, but the thought of being productive right now is just too much.

Oh, look, there's Alaska on her friend's live again. There's Alaska laughing and being adorable and sharing space with--actually sitting next to--a human.

Katya loses all self-control and comments, "Bitch I am losing my self-quarantined mind STFU and call me."

And she does it from her public account, like an idiot.

The host of the live squints at the screen. "Oh, honey, your favorite Russian spy is stir crazy. We love you, Katya."

"Aww, Katya," Alaska's former-slash-temporary housemate says. "We miss you, gurl."

"Katya's here?" Alaska says. Katya can see her scrolling up on her iPad screen, because she'd obviously missed Katya's comment. And it should not bother Katya that Alaska missed her comment, because she knows what comments on lives are like. She used to livestream her entire damn life.

"Oh, no," Alaska says, looking straight at the camera. “Poor Russian spy. I'll call you in a bit, okay?"

Other commenters have now caught on, unfortunately, because Katya is an idiot, and there's a swarm of comments about her. I love you Katya, hearts to Katya, and suddenly she's taken over the live and she feels awful about it. Like she needs to feel more awful.

She exits and texts Alaska, "I hate you all and please apologize for me for barging in. CALL ME."

She doesn't know what happens in the live after that, because she leaves her phone in the bedroom and goes to the kitchen to cheer up with some Skittles. Skittles make everything better, and she's almost out of them. Thank God for Postmates. And Alaska's care packages.

Alaska facetimes her just a couple minutes later. Katya rushes back to her phone.

"Don't fucking apologize," is the first thing Alaska says. She's retreated to her old bedroom, a space Katya is very familiar with, and is sitting under a window Katya recognizes. It's unreasonably annoying.

"I didn't want to make myself the center of attention," Katya says through a big mouthful of candy. “Sorry."

"You always want to be the center of attention," Alaska teases lightly.

"A drag queen with a pathological need to be on stage," Katya says. "Shocking."

"They all worried about you after you left. They miss you."

"Now I feel worse, so thanks for that."

"They love you. They love you even when they can't see you. Even my fans love you."

"Hahaha aren't you funny."

"But none of them love you as much as I love you."

Katya scowled. "Fuck off, making me feel better. I'm enjoying my miserly misery."

"I would like to remind you that I wanted to risk my life and stay home and bring you breakfast in bed every day, and you said no."

"Why the hell did you listen to me?"

"Hey," Alaska says with a gentler smile. "It's only six days before we can social distance together."

"Six days is forever."

"I've got to warn you, though, that when I get home, you are getting your wig on and getting on camera. I’ll paint you myself if I have to."

Katya doesn't have a rude answer to that, and she doesn't want to give a polite one. She pouts instead.

Alaska can read her pouts, though. This one doesn't mean, That's an awful idea, don't make me do it. It means,

.

Alaska laughs at the pout and says, "Let me set up something digital for you? I'll do all the legwork and you'll just have to show up. I know you miss the fans as much as they miss you."

"Point one," Katya says. "I, unlike you, do not enjoy getting all dragged up with no place to go."

"Point one,” Alaska counters. “Yes, you do. Point two, you would have a place to go!"

"Sitting on the couch with an iPhone camera does not count as a place to go. But point two, if I start Instagramming live I'll never stop, and we both know where that would lead."

"Embarrassing personal revelations and masturbating on camera?"

"Precisely."

"Oh!" Alaska brightens with an idea. “You know what the world really needs?"

"A vaccine and a new president?"

"An episode of UNHhhh with the two of you in your pajamas and full face! And I'm going to make it happen!”

It's another good idea Katya doesn't want to admit is good. "Don't make promises you can't keep, bitch," she says.

"I'll keep it. I'm drafting an email to World of Wonder right this second."

"You're not. I can see you."

"In my head. I'm drafting it in my head." Alaska produces a pen from somewhere and writes in the air. "Dear WOW, Katya's lost her mind and I know this is hard to believe, considering, but I think more UNHhhh will help her find it. Also, if you don't make her do something," which she underlines in the air with a flourish, "with all that talent, I'm never doing Bro'laska again. So there."

"Please. You’re never doing Bro'laska again anyway."

"I’ll never sign on to Werq the World?"

"As if a major recording star like yourself would sink that low in the year of our lord 2020. Face it, you have no leverage here. Maybe if you said you’d never make another appearance on Drag Race...”

"Oooh," Alaska says. "Buuuuurn."

Katya tells her to fuck off.

After she stops laughing, Alaska says, "Let's have dinner tonight."

“On Facetime? Like always?” It's something they often do when their schedules put them in different time zones.

"No, for real.”

“Still not looking to pass on my potential plague,” Katya says.

“I’m sure you’re not sick," which is what Alaska says every time the topic comes up. "But no, listen. I’ll bring takeout. Whatever you want. You sit inside the back door, and I'll sit out on the patio."

"Hmm," Katya says.

"At least I could see your gorgeous face without a camera or a window."

"At a socially safe distance of at least 10 feet. In case I drool. Which I might."

"Are we on, then?" Alaska asks.

"Anything I want? Would that include watching me jerk off?"

"I would absolutely love to watch you jerk off."

"Then it’s a date," Katya says. "As long as I still have enough Lysol to coat the entire patio."

#rpdr fanfiction #alaska thunderfuck #katya zamolodchikova #katlaska #fluff #canon compliant #ficlet #devoted #kamylove #tw covid

[brooklynislandgirl]

"I would marry you if I had the chance." He isn't joking, of course, but he's said it in a softly playful manner all the same. {I don't know, Beth, he was probably Inspired, I'm sorry.}

If I would, could you? ||-

Sheer gauzy curtains waft in the breeze coming in through the window, paired with moonlight bright enough to silver many of the furnishings of the room. There's no hint of rain that she can taste but the air is redolent with the flowers from the garden down below, and the heat of the day and the heavy humidity have given way to a now familiar coolness that doesn't make their proximity an onerous burden.

She doesn't stir from where she lays on her side, knees slightly drawn up, one arm bent beneath her pillow, the other at the inward slope of her waist entangled with his so that their fingers are braided together in loose enough a fashion that if he needed to get up it would be easier than extricating the leg of his caught between both of hers, or the one under her almost completely. It isn't often that Anakin chooses or simply becomes the 'big spoon' as it were and maybe she is enjoying being wrapped up in him. The only real pity to the situation is that she can't, without turning her head, see his face, limned in the soft light coming from the window and back lit by her lighthouse nightlight.

She doesn't turn because she also expects that maybe he's softly talking to her because he thinks she's asleep. Normally around this time in the early mornings if he's still in bed ~ a fairly recent development between them where propriety takes a backseat to comfort and their almost always more than mutual proclivity of finding closeness and solace through touch~ Anakin is tossing and turning, sometimes accompanied by soft, usually wordless murmurs that she can't quite find shape and function in but knows it's dreams that aren't any more pleasant for him than her own night terrors are for herself just loud enough to rest on the edges of her perceptions.

She almost wants to ask if he's actually slept yet or if he's kept a vigil over her for the past few hours when exhaustion finally managed to sink into her. Insomnia is another one of their commonalities. Neither one seems willing to risk closing their eyes until they have no choice in the matter. She doesn't even really remember getting up the stairs and into bed in the first place. At the same time, the idea of Anakin making sure she didn't curl up on the stairs, or falling asleep in the tub isn't an awful one. Neither would it be the end of the world if he'd helped her slip out of her scrubs ~a last minute after hours emergency~ and into the thin and a little baggy, little overlong tee-shirt that she knows for a fact didn't come from her closet. The material of it is worn to the point of being almost gossamer. Embedded with all the smells she associates in very good ways with him. The kind of thing she'd be inclined to steal borrow for herself if he weren't around to give her permission. Just so she could feel more closely connected.

But speaking would ruin the moment if he does think she's insensible to the world. It would ruin the moment to answer him, even if his tone might otherwise suggest that he knows what she's thinking. And that might very well be the case because Beth suspects that he has an affinity with Uhane'hana, the sphere of Mind. Not that she knows for certain, she herself is inept at it, never quite able to harness that art though her brother...s....were quite talented.

Speaking would also mean she'd inadvertently hurt his feelings. Not because she would say something cruel or spiteful to him. She can't imagine ever being so harsh, so angry with Anakin that she would want to savage him to verbal pieces and do more damage than she could ever do to his physical body, which to be honest would be easier on him and far more devastating that she can actually say. It wouldn't be the first time that someone he cared about harmed him, and unfortunately, she doesn't think it will be the last. But no, she'd rather not do any of that, not in any way. The hurt would stem from the fact that Beth isn't nearly as enchanted with herself as Anakin seems to be. As if he can't see the flaws and the disappointments that make up her central being. That he can't see the terrible failures that she cannot begin to make up for. That she isn't as perfect as she wishes she could be and that he really does deserve someone better, younger, less problematic in the long run. It would hurt because his heart is still pure enough not to see those things, to have a counter-argument for every single fault she could lay at his feet, and to be honest Beth knows she can never really measure up to his generosity of opinion. Just like she knows she really wants to be the person he sees when he looks at her, all quiet and troubled eyes, fidgeting fingers and so almost timid of voice.

That's always endeared her, that wonderfully creative and often time broken vocabulary at his, like poetry spoken out of the side-mouth of a sailor. The revelation of a voracious intellect that was never nurtured as it ought to have been, and the ghosts he carries in it from his past, still too painful to really brush with any sort of clarity. She would do anything, literally, to keep him safe, to nurture every aspect of his being that is within her capability. Even from herself, if need be. And in admitting that, she knows being dishonest, pretending to be sleeping and not having heard those few words... spoken in such a way that it could be brushed off as him knowing she was playing possum and was just trying to get a rise out of her...is not something he deserved.

Achingly slow and careful she lifts his hand ~the left one~ to her lips and brushes a fleeting kiss across his knuckles. Allows every ounce of her to be felt in that rather subdued fashion in place of the words she is having trouble finding. She decides that the only way forward is to try and mimic the same blithe tone he manages seemingly without any difficulty, though her own voice is far more languid than his. "But where we get us a' Elvis impersonator, at almos' four in da mornin' ke kōnane? Besides, I t'ink Bug's tuxedo still at da dry cleaner." The cat in question's ear twitches at the sound of his name but curled up in an almost complete circle at the end of the bed ~which even if Anakin were to stretch out to his fullest would still leave a good foot or more of unclaimed mattress~ in his very own pile of luxuriously soft blankets, he doesn't seem to really care what Beth and Anakin are discussing. It takes a little bit of doing, of shifting here and there that is an excuse for Beth to not have to be serious for the handful or two of seconds before she's turning. Before she takes even more time to once again have parts of him wedged between her knees, to wrap an arm around his waist, and to lift her face so that the bridge of her nose nuzzles along his jawline, her breath a warm sensation across his throat.

"Is...dat some kine...ya migh' be interest in, some day? I mean...not t' me specifically, but in general?" Beth had officiated dozens of marriages. To stuffed animals and dolls. To other kids in the same play groups. To shells and flowers and even trees. She would tell anyone and everyone who listened that some day she would grow up and marry her brother, before she was corrected in her grammar. Before she understood her mother and the Admiral's relationship. Before she realised that maybe that wasn't exactly something she could really have, not like the endings of fairy tales, not in movies and t.v. shows. Before the Admiral explained that she was defective in every way that really mattered. And now she has to wonder why Anakin would even want that. Want her, like that. Maybe he is only making a joke, maybe he really is just trying to get a rise out of her. Maybe is a hell of a word. She squeezes her eyes shut against the stinging prickle at their backs. Keeps her breath even and steady despite the fact that some latent kind of panic is beginning to set in, telling her she ought to have pretended to be asleep after all. She bites back the urge to ask what a chance would look like for him. She bites back on asking why he would say such a thing in the first place. Those little pieces of indigestible fear seem to pile up in her throat, forcing her to clear it and the sound is painfully loud.

"I mean... is only natural, an ya know how much us Verbena really like dat, right? Every kine...well, I should say mos' kine...wanna seek out a mate. Usually f' procreation but I no can help but t'ink it's f' company an' stuff, mutual survival an' all." Oh. God. Shut up. Just. Stop. Talking. Elizabeth. "Big ceremony or lil kine? I bet ya got a t'eme an' a venue an' everyt'ing pick out. Mebbe reception, too. I use t' wanna get marry on a beach back home. Sunset. Small-small. An' really surprisin'? Not a lot of blood. Maybe none, even."

#mynameisanakin #Like A Sad Hallucination|Anakin Skywalker #Like a Memory in Motion|Anibeth #The Trunk You Kept Your Life In|Mage The Ascension #Strange Days|New Orleans #Reborn on the Bayou|Louisiana #Hell or High Water|Nolakin AU

[thepandapopo]

A Step Through Time Chapter 3: Wishes Do Come True

Synopsis: In which Sylvain comes to a horrible realization and Felix learns something new.

OR

Mercedes and Annette learn that they should really give disclaimers whenever they tell kids about wishing wells.

Pairing: SylVix

Chapter Index 1 / 2 / 3

It only takes a week for Sylvain to decide that his newfound knowledge about Felix’s sexuality is a horrible, horrible curse.

The type of curse that is initially disguised as a blessing because Sylvain is ecstatic that he might actually have a chance, but is really a curse because now he can’t stop noticing how many men seem to linger around Felix.

Did Felix always have this many men around him?

Sylvain never noticed it before, but now he cannot help but note that whenever he’s not sparring with Felix, there never seems to be a shortage of male soldiers clambering to challenge the sword master. In fact, if Sylvain is being honest, they all seem a little too eager to test their blade against the Fraldarius heir. Of course, none of them ever manage to win, but that doesn’t stop them from approaching Felix even on his grumpiest of days.

Sylvain doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like it one bit.

And if anyone notices that Sylvain is now sharpening his lance with a tad more force than absolutely necessary in the shadows of the training grounds while glaring holes at anyone who approaches his best friend… well, no one says anything because they’ve all seen him skewer his enemies with negligible effort.

“Lord Fraldarius! Sir!”

A new recruit that Sylvain can’t bother to remember the name of jogs up to Felix with a sword in hand and a traitorous part of his brain notes that he’s well built and boyishly handsome.

“Would you be willing to spar against me again? The pointers you gave me last time really helped to improve my form and I’m hoping that you could do the same again.” The soldier stands with his shoulders back and spine straight in the perfect picture of respect, but Sylvain has done this song and dance enough times that he can spot the underlying flirtatious tilt of his head and innocently deceptive tone.

If this were the first time that he had approached Felix, Sylvain would have given him a pass. Hell, even a second or third time would be okay. But this is the fifth time this week that his recruit has approached Felix, and Sylvain cannot figure out for the life of him why Felix is giving him the time of day when he could so clearly go practice sword forms on his own.

So, in typical Sylvain fashion, he saunters over to interrupt their conversation.

“How about you spar against me instead?” To his smug delight, Felix doesn’t shrug off the arm that he throws casually around his shoulder. “I’d be happy to train with you. Plus, that gives Felix the opportunity to focus on critiquing you and giving you pointers.”

Sylvain picks up a training lance and gives it an expert twirl, muscle memory taking over as his feet slide into a ready stance that he could probably replicate in his sleep. There’s something fierce stirring in his gut and he can feel his body jittering restlessly; Sylvain has never been a fan of training (at least not as much as Felix), but his senses are on overdrive today and his mind is focused solely on winning.

“On my mark.” Felix puts away his own training sword and walks over towards a nearby pillar to watch the match. He crosses his arms across his chest and Sylvain can’t help but let his eyes distractedly trace the bulging lines of his biceps that drift down towards a tapered waist…

Damn it.

Now he’s turned on, frustrated and jealous.

A piercing whistle cuts through the air and Sylvain sends a silent half-hearted apology to the new recruit before lunging forward at full strength.

----

“You should have held back.”

“I did.”

His younger self snorts while cutting into his pheasant, “I’ve been your sparring partner for years. And I’ve fought by your side enough times to know what it looks like when you’re not holding back.”

A small smile creeps onto Felix’s face. He really shouldn’t be eavesdropping on his past self’s conversation with Sylvain, but watching the red headed flirt stumble over himself with this new information has been more than a little amusing.

In his timeline, Felix is the one who is always flustered – although admittedly less so now, so it’s nice seeing the tables turn for once even if it’s not with his Sylvain.

Felix doesn’t give any indication that he is eavesdropping – his gaze is still fixed on his own meal and on little Sophie beside him, who has her tongue adorably stuck out while carefully eating wobbling spoonfuls of Onion Gratin Soup.

“I’m surprised that you’ve been helping train the newer soldiers.” Felix can tell from the offhanded way Sylvain tosses the comment out that he’s fishing for information. There’s a subtle edge in his voice that Felix can only hear from years of learning how to avoid arguments with his husband.

“Why? It makes sense. Byleth said she wants more swordsmen to add to my battalion and if they’re going to be fighting with me, then I need to make sure they’re up to my standard.”

“Fe, no offense but your standard is a bit high.”

“Your standard is just low.”

Felix is eternally grateful for Sophie when she masks his snort of laughter with a request for another bread roll.

“That’s not true! Admit it Fe, you always have extremely high standards for everything.” There’s a nervous energy to Sylvain’s prattle, like he’s stalling time to build up courage. “Not that it’s a bad thing! But it is true that you have that expectation for all aspects of your life.”

“Really,” his younger self says dryly, “like what?”

“Like your taste in partners.”

Honestly, Felix is impressed that Sylvain held out as long as he did before caving and broaching the subject with his younger self, but that doesn’t make it any less awkward or mortifying for Young Felix. He’s only listening in on this conversation and he can practically feel the embarrassment that is flooding his counterpart, but that will be nothing compared to the absolute disaster this conversation is headed towards.

Is it considered masochism if Felix is kind of enjoying this?

“We are not talking about this.”

“Aw, come on, Fe! What did you think of that recruit? He was pretty cute.”

The violent coughing that follows is concerning enough that Sophie turns to look worriedly.

(“Papa, is he okay?”

“I’m sure he is, Sophie.” But not for long.)

“What?”

“The guy I was sparring! He was totally interested in you, by the way. Cute face, decent body, but kind of weak.”

“Goddess, kill me now - wait. You… since when were you interested in men?”

“Uh. Since forever? Fe, haven’t you ever heard Ingrid complain about me? I ‘flirt with anything that has a pulse’ – her words, not mine.”

As much as Felix is enjoying the explosive trash fire that is this conversation, he isn’t a fan of everyone in the dining hall knowing their business and judging by the steadily increasing volume of their conversation, there are at least a few others eavesdropping now as well, curious as to what has gotten the two nobles so riled up.

“What the actual fuck, Sylvain. Why have you never told me you were interested in men?”

“I thought you knew!”

“How was I supposed to know if you never told me?”

“I don’t know, I’m sorry!”

His younger self looks like he is on the verge of either combusting or stabbing Sylvain so Felix takes it upon himself to intervene. Sophie, who has since finished her dinner, tilts precariously to the side as her eyelids droop. With one hand, Felix ushers his daughter off the bench and towards the front of the dining hall while his other hand drips the tray laden with their dishes. When Sophie is finally far enough ahead that she will not hear him, Felix takes the opportunity to casually stroll by the two men.

His presence alone is enough to shut them both up and Felix can’t help but let the corners of his mouth twitch upwards.

As much as he would love to see the red head squirm some more, he does love the idiot and he cannot help but say something to him and ease his guilt. “To be completely honest, we already had a feeling.”

Once again, Felix finds himself on the receiving end of his infamous glare but he can’t find it within himself to care as long as he can end this conversation quickly. Consider it a mercy to his younger self, or to their privacy in general.

“Oh, and just so you’re aware,” Felix calls over his shoulder as he walks away, his calm voice at odds with the small shit eating smirk on his face, “Sylvain knows about us now too.”

Felix doesn’t stick around long enough to see the consequences of his words, instead quickly catching up to his daughter and scooping her up before depositing their dishes and heading back to his room.

----

Perhaps it is the consequence of eating cheese for dinner that catalyzes the stream of ridiculous night terrors combined with the fact that the Gautier cheese used in the soup was reminiscent of home, but  when Sophie wakes up for the third time that night in tears and crying for her Daddy, Felix swears that he is never letting his daughter eat Onion Gratin soup before bed ever again.

A lone candle sends flames dancing in their assigned room, casting shadows across the walls that flicker hypnotizingly and threaten to drag Felix back down into the dredges of sleep if not for his crying daughter in his arms.

As much as it breaks his heart to see Sophie in tears, there is very little Felix can actually do to make her feel better. He isn’t the one she misses, and he doesn’t have the magical capabilities to perform the time travel spell by himself – not that he would even consider risking the safety of his daughter in an experimental spell to begin with (speaking of which, he’s going to have a chat with Linhardt about how Sophie managed to get herself sent to the past when he gets back).

It certainly doesn’t help the situation that he is due to leave on a two day mission in the morning, which is why he shows up exhausted at Annette and Mercedes’ doors at sunrise dropping off a still slumbering Sophie in their care for the next couple of days.

Sophie may not be either his nor Sylvain’s biological daughter, but she certainly inherited some traits from her fathers; and the one thing that her and Sylvain have in common is that they both like to indulge in sweets whenever they are feeling particularly sad.

And so, with a request to bake cookies with Sophie and a hasty reminder to not let her eat too many sweets lest she get a stomachache, Felix hurries off to join his battalion that is set to depart shortly after breakfast.

Which is exactly how Annette finds herself sitting on a stool watching Mercedes and Sophie cut out cute little shapes from their rolled-out cookie dough.

“Sorry Mercie, I promise I’ll help out next time when there’s less… risk of fire involved.”

Mercifully, the healer simply laughs and waves off the apology; after all, it is no secret that Annette has an uncanny ability to make things explode in the kitchen without meaning to.

“Oh that’s quite alright, Annie. After all, I have a wonderful little helper already – isn’t that right, Sophie?”

Sophie doesn’t reply but continues to meticulously push the Pegasus shaped cookie cutter into the dough.

“Sophie…?”

Peering over the counter, Annette tilts her head so that she can see past the curtain of crimson that reveals teary honey eyes and a bottom lip wobbling dangerously with barely held back sniffles.

“Oh dear, what’s wrong Sophie? Do you want a different shape?” Mercedes coos and gently turns her so that both her and Annette can fully see her expression.

One lone tear manages to drip past long brown lashes before the flood gates open.

“I…I m-miss…” Sophie chokes out before abruptly stopping, her face scrunching up in distress.

Sweeping her dress under her knees, Annette crouches down to Sophie’s eye level and smooths her hair back in a comforting gesture. “Who do you miss, sweetie?”

Once more, a flash of uncertainty and reluctance crosses her expression before Sophie finally breaks down and whispers, “I miss Daddy.”

There must be something else bothering the little Fraldarius, Mercedes and Annette conclude after an hour of fruitlessly trying to comfort Sophie that Felix will be back before you know it, because nothing they say seems to elicit any reaction other than Sophia stubbornly insisting that she misses her Daddy. Any attempts to cajole further elaboration merely ends in Sophia clamming up with more tears, looking guilty as if she has broken an unknown rule.

“Sophie, are you sure you don’t want to tell us more about what’s bothering you?” Mercedes frowns. “Is there something more than you missing Felix?”

Flour streaked hands grab the hem of her dress to wipe away the errant tear tracks on her cheeks. Shaking her head once more, Sophia invokes her Fraldarius stubbornness and repeats her mantra. “I miss Daddy.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Annette pauses for a moment as an idea strikes her. There really isn’t anything to lose considering nothing else they have done so far has helped – not even the freshly baked cookies. “Hey, Sophie? Have you ever heard of a wishing well?”

“Wishing…well?” Little eyebrows scrunch up in curiosity.

Annette beams. “Yeah! It’s where you go when you have something you are wishing for that you really, really want to come true. I like to go there whenever I am feeling sad so that I can make a wish. How about we take you there so you can make a wish for your Daddy to come home faster?”

“I can wish to see Daddy?”

The hope stirring in her eyes makes Annette’s chest clench guiltily, but she’s desperate to cheer up this little girl who has taken up resident in her heart with her radiant smiles and cheer.

“Yep! They say that if you wish really, really hard that the Goddess will hear you and grant whatever you ask for.”

“Really?” Sophie turns to Mercedes with wide eyes in search of confirmation.

Smiling back, Mercedes nods. “Yes, that’s true. But if you want your wish to reach the Goddess, you must bring an offering that is connected to your wish. Do you know anything that your Daddy likes? Maybe something we can get from the pantry?”

“Cookies.”

There’s a beat of silence as Annette and Mercedes stare at each other.

Felix doesn’t like cookies.

“Uhh… are you sure you wouldn’t rather just eat the cookies?” Annette asks; neither of them are willing to call out a child, much less a distraught one. “Maybe there’s something else we can find?”

Even though they’ve only known Sophia Fraldarius for a little while, it doesn’t take a genius to know by the set of her shoulders and pout that her mind is made up, leaving the older girls no choice but to follow along, bundling up mini Pegasus cookies in a Mercedes’ white handkerchief and setting off for the well just outside the Cathedral’s main hall.

Thankfully, it is a relatively warm day and the wind does little to bother them, despite their high altitude. When the well comes into view, Sophie’s excitement grows with each step and by the time they reach the stone structure, the knot holding the handkerchief together threatens to spill cookies across the floor, loosened by her excited skipping.

“Oookay,” Annette claps her hands together and grins. “Before we make our wish, we need to make sure we properly present our offering.”

Placing the wrapped goods on the ledge of the well, all three girls take a step back and clasp their hands with Mercedes leading their prayer.

“Dear Goddess, we are grateful for your kindness and compassion. We offer these items in hopes that you will hear our wish and grant us what we seek. May you always watch over us and protect those we hold dear.”

Taking a step forward, Mercedes makes the first wish. “I wish for all our friends and comrades to come home safe from their battles.”

From Sophie’s other side, Annette goes next. “I wish to see improvements in my faith magic so that I can protect my friends.”

When it comes to her turn, Sophie steps forward hesitantly with her hands clutched to her chest. “I…I wish that I could see Daddy.”

Stepping back, Sophia hastens to mimic the other two and claps her hands twice to finish the ritual.

Even when they turn to head back towards the dining hall for dinner, Sophia carries her wish in her heart and repeats the prayer through the rest of the day and into bed. By the time she finally manages to fall asleep, her heart is swollen with enough hope that it chases away the night terrors and leaves her with dreams of riding through fields with the person she misses the most.

----

On the next day, Sophie rises with the sun.

Though still bleary eyed and exhausted, excitement runs like electric through her body and propels her from bed in a rush to get dressed in a forest green dress that matches a shirt she has seen in her fathers’ wardrobe.

If her wish really does come true, then Sophie wants to look her best so that her Daddy knows she has been taking care of herself and not out romping in the bush, wrecking havoc for her caretakers like she does so often when she visits the capital.

Breakfast crawls by ever so slowly, time moving with the same speed that her gloopy porridge drips from her spoon, but eventually the dining hall clears out and Sophie is able to drag Mercedes and Annette to the entrance of the main hall where she plants herself on the stone wall atop the staircase leading down to the marketplace.

“To make sure I don’t miss Daddy!” She had declared proudly to her caretakers when asked why she had picked this spot to settle down at.

Burnt sienna eyes focus heavily on the portcullis that protects the entrance to Garreg Mach. Even as the sky climbs higher in the sky and the noon bell tolls, Sophie does not leave her post, instead opting to eat her lunch consisting of sandwiches outside on her perch.

But as the hours of the day begin to count down and the sun sinks lower and lower towards the horizon, Sophie cannot stop the gnawing darkness of doubt that coils in her gut and grows stronger with the fading daylight.

“Still waiting?” Sylvain asks as he joins the small group of friends that have gathered anxiously anticipating the tears that will inevitably come when Sophie realizes that sometimes wishes don’t come true.

“It… probably wasn’t the best idea to give her false hope.” Ingrid frowns. “How are we going to console her when Felix doesn’t come back? He’s not due to arrive for another day.”

Letting out a moan, Annette drags a hand down her face. “I know! I shouldn’t have mentioned anything. Now she’s going to be even more upset.”

“Why don’t you just tell her that Felix isn’t coming back tonight then?”

“Because Linhardt,” Leonie rolls her eyes. “We’re not monsters who go around killing children’s hopes and dreams.”

“All I’m saying is that the upfront disappointment might be the better alternative.”

“I’m sure we can just talk to her and explain that Felix will be back the day after tomorrow.” Mercedes reasons.

When the dinner bell tolls, it echoes throughout the courtyard and through the now-empty stalls. The sky glows with reds, pinks, and oranges that are slowly fading into the dark blue of the night sky, casting their last brilliant rays on the earth.

The sniffling that ensues shortly after the bell chime fades is expected, but no less painful.

“Is… is Daddy not coming?” It’s almost unfair how lethal Sophie’s teary face is as it cuts into their hearts.

“I’m sorry, Sophie.” Dorothea says, wrapping up the little Fraldarius in a tight hug. “I’m sure Felix is doing his best to come back soon. He’ll be here for sure in another day or so.”

Leonie flashes her best reassuring smile. “Yeah! I’m sure that Felix will be on his way home soon.”

“But I miss Daddy.”

More tears are coming now and the panic among the adults is steadily increasing.

Ashe and Annette do their best to offer small placating reasons as to why Felix hasn’t come back, however despite their best efforts, Sophie’s distress grows and grows until she is sobbing just as hard as when they first found her in the middle of the sealed forest.

“I want Daddy!”

“Hey, hey.” Dorothea coos. “It’s okay, no need for tears! Why don’t we get you inside first, hm? Sylvain can give you a piggy back ride, would that make you feel better?”

Ever on the same page as her girlfriend, Ingrid quickly drives her elbow into Sylvain’s ribs and pushes him forward.

“Ouch! Er. Yeah! Of course. How about it, Sophie? Want a ride back to the dining hall?” Sylvain beams and offers up his hands, but quickly retracts them when the wails increase in volume.

“Sylvain! What did you do?”

“What?! I didn’t do anything!”

Ingrid huffs. “Well, clearly you did. Listen to her! She’s crying even louder-“

“Rider at the gate!” The shout from the sentry breaks cuts through their argument and for one blessed moment, everything falls silent except for the sound of sniffling and hoofbeats on stone that grows ever louder as it approaches.

“Rider? Not a messenger?” Caspar frowns. It’s an odd announcement – there are very few people who are brave enough to travel solo during war – and the sentries know and recognize the Resistance army’s trusted messengers.

Which means that whoever is approaching is an ally, or someone they recognize… which is even more odd because everyone they know is either already accounted for inside the walls of Garreg Mach or are out on missions and not due back for a few days.

But when the portcullis finally raises and the oaken doors part, they too recognize the person astride the horse, now galloping through the marketplace with hair the colour of crimson flame and very familiar honey eyes trained only on the weeping child seated on the stone wall.

They all continue to gape silently in various states of shock even as the rider slows to a stop at the foot of the stairs.

“What the-“

It’s undeniable now.

If the Resistance Army thought it was weird that they now had two Felix’s, they were definitely not prepared for the arrival of an older looking Sylvain Jose Gautier decked out in noble regalia with another Lance of Ruin strapped to his back.

The lazy grin he flashes them is unmistakably Sylvain, but when his eyes finally return back to Sophie, his expression morphs into something so soft that it leaves the current Sylvain reeling.

“Hey sweetheart, did you miss me?”

Sophie wastes no time in scrambling to her feet and dashing down the stone banister to throw herself into the arms of the older looking Sylvain.

“Daddy!”

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

Author’s Note: This was so weird to write. Originally I wanted to do it in Sylvain's POV, but then it switched to Felix's POV, then I realized that I defaulted to active voice for Sylvain's part and told myself I would go back and change it to passive voice, but then the chapter just kept morphing and morphing and dear lord I don't know.

Imma just leave it in active voice for now. Because that's what feels right LOL. Maybe I'll have to scrap my whole passive voice practice; this chapter was hard enough to write as it is. English is hard. (Says the person with a major in English Literature).

Tag List: @pato-social

#A Step Through Time #Fire Emblem Three Houses #fire emblem 3 houses #fire emblem #Sylvix #sylvain jose gautier #felix x sylvain #sylvain x felix #felix hugo fraldarius #time travel AU #Popo writes #Original Character #sophia gabriella fraldarius gautier

[yeenybeanies]

Hannoyed ( Hungry-Annoyed )

this is a scenario i thought of last night & i’ve been thinkin about it all day hello. also spontaneous creation of a new oc ( yet another black snake smh ) for size context bc i know that’s important to me: reo is about 60ft/18.3m long

reader & reolzre, the calm ( oc )

1683 words

safe, soft, unwilling vore warning, & language warning

enjoy!!

Bored.

You are bored. Mind-numbingly bored. It’s been a few days now since you’ve been able to leave your home. The conditions outside are too dangerous––or so the radios and headlines say. You’ve been tempted to venture out anyway, but the boredom hasn’t gotten quite bad enough to the point where you’d risk your life. So, for the time being, you have to entertain yourself with video games, books, internet browsing, and daydreaming by the window.

All of these can only keep you occupied for so long.

You aren’t alone in this isolation though, thank the gods. Your unconventional companion has elected to stay with you through these trying times. Why are they unconventional? Well, they’re a wyrm, for starters. Yes, your good buddy is a big ol’ legless, wingless dragon. You tease them often about their lack of appendages, affectionately referring to them as a  “ giant noodle dragon ”  or a  “ spicy danger noodle ” or . . . or usually something noodle-related. It’s all in good fun; you know they’re quite capable, and you know they take it in good humor. Hell, they tease you plenty for your own missing features, like your lack of armor scales and sharp teeth. They like to call you  “ squishy, ”  among other things.

You two have a good time. You enjoy each other’s company. And you’re very glad that they’re here. This isolation would be excruciating if you were actually fully isolated. Luckily for you, too, your wyrm buddy can’t be affected by the dangers that so keep you separated from the outside world, so they can go out and fetch supplies, should you find your stocks running low.

However, right now, they’re trying to snooze. Their serpentine form is balled up on top of––and around––your couch, the furniture lost completely within the coils.

“ Reo . . .. ”  the familiar name rolls off of your tongue, vowels drawn out in something resembling a whine. The massive mound of black scales doesn’t move. Frowning, you nudge at a coil gently with your toes.  “ Reo, you’re in–––– ” 

“ If you say my name one more time, I’m going to bury you. ”  Their voice is muffled through the seemingly endless and beginning-less yards of scale.

Yeesh. Touchy. You mock them silently with a sneer.  “ Okay, okay, geez. I just need to get past you. ”  

“ Go around. ” 

Obviously you would have if you could. Maybe you have been bothering them for the past half hour or so, constantly wandering around in search for something to do. They can’t blame you! You’re bored! None of your games and books sound appealing, window-watching is just getting depressing, and they are trying to sleep. There is nothing left for you to do, save for trying to find something to clean or reorganize or otherwise mess with.

“ I can’t. You’re blocking the hallway. ”  You huff and cross your arms.

“ Go over. ” 

“ I didn’t want to disturb you. ”

“ And yet, here you are. ”

Maybe it sounds a little callous, but you know they’re only being cranky. You roll your eyes and shrug. Alright. If they say so. The segment of body blocking your way is only about knee high, and not much wider than it is tall. It’s by no means difficult to step over. You were just trying to be polite. Guess that didn’t work out too well, hunh?

Whatever. Obstacle cleared. Now you can go find something in the back half of the house to do.

. . ..

Or not.

Not five minutes later, you’re back at the hallway entrance. This time, you don’t even bother to ask before stepping over. Reo doesn’t stir.

Nor do they move when you cross them again after another few minutes. And then again. And then again. Man, there really is just nothing to do in this house!

Another two minutes of pacing around aimlessly in the back, and yet again you head down the hallway, approaching the scaly barrier. As is now normal for you, you step high and get your foot to the other side without issue, without suspect. What you fail to notice in time, though, is that the main mound of coils has shifted.

Before you can so much as scream, you catch a glimpse at a deep purple, and then your vision is filled with darkness. A pressure clamps down right over your head and neck and part of your chest. You squirm for a moment, shocked and confused, and feel hot, wet, fleshy surfaces push around you, quickly enveloping you. It doesn’t take but a second for your head to enter a tight, slippery chute, your shoulders quick to follow, and then you feel your feet leave the linoleum floor.

Panic.

You don’t know what’s happening, but you kick your legs and try your best to wriggle. The chute squeezes tighter around you, pulling you in further until you’re waist-deep. Your hands thrash uselessly against your thighs and feel around, trying to discern anything. You think you can feel something hard amidst the slime and the squish, but you don’t get to ponder over it much. The chute shifts around you, and you’re lifted further until you’re completely vertical and upside-down! That finally manages to force a grunt from your lungs, but not a full scream just yet. No, your world is still moving too much. The chute squeezes more, and seems to bounce up and down, each fall sending you deeper in. Not three seconds pass before your knees reach the chute opening. Now your legs are pinned together. Vainly, you try to kick while you can still feel the air on your feet, but those too slip in shortly after.

Now you have it in you to scream. The tight space makes it difficult, but you have enough air in your lungs still to manage a hoarse cry. The chute around you twists and contorts, easily forcing you along and overpowering your efforts to resist your descent. You yell for help. You yell for Reo. Someone. Anyone!

Though it feels like forever, it can’t have been more than maybe ten, fifteen––twenty tops––seconds before the winding chute narrows into an even tighter band that stretches around you, and serves as a gateway into a slightly roomier space. Slightly. Once you’ve been shoved in fully, the squeezing and contorting stop. Well . . . they don’t stop; the walls around you still move, like whatever your in is moving around, but you’re no longer being passed through it. Your movement has stopped. And, though the space around you only grants you minimal wiggle room, you fucking wiggle. It feels like a wet, slimy, wrinkly, tight sleeping bag in here, and it smells!

“ Reolzre! Can you hear me? Help! ”  The air is hot and humid, but surprisingly breathable. You twist your head one way, then the other, trying and failing to see anything in the darkness.

“ Yes, I can hear you, ”  hums the familiar voice. Strangely, it sounds like it’s coming from right next to you, beyond the walls of whatever gross prison you’ve been stuffed into. You wriggle and manage to turn onto your side, hands pushing against the wall. Its wrinkles squelch and pulse against your palms. It doesn’t feel quite like the outside is moving anymore, though the bag around you still churns gently. Where the hell are you?

“ Reo! Reo, I––I don’t know what happened! Where am I? Get me out of here! ”  You slap at the wall, thinking it might help the wyrm better locate you.

“ I’ll let you out after I’ve had a nap, ”  they say.  “ Stop squirming so much. You’re fine. You can breathe, yes? ” 

“ Y-yeah, I can breathe––– ”  pause. Hard stop.  “ Wait––‘ let ’? You will let me out after a nap? What the shit does that mean? ”  Again you pound against the fleshy wall, but, this time, the walls shrink up against you, nearly as tight as the chute. You manage to choke out a strangled noise of protest.

“ You were annoying me with your constant moving about, so I swallowed you. ”  The wyrm speaks so casually, like they didn’t just say something absolutely ridiculous and terrifying.  “ You are going to stay there now, where you can’t move around, so I can get some sleep. ”

For a long moment, you don’t say anything. You almost don’t believe them. There’s no way they swallowed you. There’s no way you’re in theur stomach right now. But, as the bag recedes to its normal tightness, you rub your hands along the walls. The wrinkles, the sliminess, the smell, the tight chute that brought you here . . . by the gods, the wyrm fucking ate you! You are in their stomach!

“ Reolzre, the Calm, if you don’t let me out right fucking now––– ”  And again, the walls tighten just as you start to thrash. Your face squishes against the wrinkly surface, and you grimace. Still, you manage to mumble,  “ How could you eat me? ”

“ Stop. Gods, please stop. Relax. All that squirming isn’t going to do you any good. ”  The outside starts moving again, no-doubt Reo shifting positions to be more comfortable with their unruly meal.  “ I’m not going to kill you. Had I actually wanted to do that, you’d have felt my teeth and beak. I just want a nap. That’s it. Then I’ll spit you back up. ”

They have a point. You won’t admit it aloud, but they do have a point. Their teeth––now you realize what that hard thing was you felt when you were in their mouth; it was a tooth––must have been tucked and folded back so they didn’t dig into you at all. Save for the uncomfortable tightness of the chute, it was a quick and entirely painless journey. They made considerable effort not to hurt you.

You still don’t like it though.

“ I sleep better on a full stomach anyway. Get comfortable, Squishy. ”  Oh, that sounded cheeky.

That’s it.  “ You bastard. When I get out of here, I’m going to skin you and make armor out of your scales! Let me out, you overgrown noodle! ”  To hell with their nap. You have no intentions of giving them any peace while they’ve got you stuck in here.

#soft vore #safe vore #vore writing #dragon vore #snake vore #kinda #hyena writes #hyena ocs #reolzre the calm #i realized i messed up their pronouns like 2/3 of the way tru but i fixed it now

[smolthealmighty]

Spinaraki Week 2020 Day 1: Fantasy

And From This Slumber You Shall Wake

The kingdom of Yuei has cast a curse upon Shigaraki that they believe will not only prevent him from interfering with their upcoming battle, but will take him out of commission entirely. After all, who could ever truly love a destructive monster like him...

~~~~~

The army of Yuei was visible from the tallest tower of the abandoned castle the League of Villains had made into their newest hideout, and Tomura Shigaraki would not wake up.

It hadn’t taken long for Ujiko, the resident necromancer, to figure out what happened when their leader had first collapsed only a few days prior, but the cause of his unconscious state spelled uncertainty for their future. It was a curse of endless sleep, most certainly cast by the magic users of Yuei if the leaked plans of their upcoming attack were true, one that could only be broken by the age-old method of true love’s kiss.

“Blast it all! Of all the curses they could have used,” Ujiko cried out, as he violently pushed himself away from the desk full of spell-casting texts, nearly shaking Toga down from her perch on the desk’s edge. As he made his way over towards one of the many bookshelves in his vast library, the league’s fiery sorcerer turned to the rest of the group. “You gotta admit, they did make one hell of a smart move.”

“Dabi, now is not the time to praise the enemy,” hissed Mr. Compress, the illusionist clearly incensed by the comment as he helped Toga to steady herself. “Dabi does sort of have a point, Mister,” the rouge witch said. “They chose a spell that not only took our dear leader and heaviest hitter out of the fight, but also made the cure something they’d probably think is impossible to fulfill.”

“Yeah, we know Shigaraki is really a lovable softie on the inside. Always making sure we’re okay. Someone’s gonna fall for him sooner or later,” declared Twice, the emotional barbarian sounding joyfully optimistic, only to abruptly sour his own mood as he hollered, “No chance! He’s an ugly, heartless bastard! Not a single drop of compassion in him!”

From the bookshelves, Ujiko shouted over his shoulder, “We can’t rely on someone magically falling in love with him now of all times, not with Yuei most likely on their way here as we speak. Now are you going to sit around or are you going to help me find a different method to break the curse?” The league quickly mobilized and started to comb through the shelves, both to save their unconscious leader and to keep Ujiko from yelling again. Before starting her own search, Toga dragged Spinner, the league’s dragonborn paladin, off to the side.

“Toga, what are you doing? We gotta find the–”

“And we will, but we also need someone to keep an eye on Tomura just in case anything happens, don’t we?”

Spinner stiffened, eyeing Toga in an attempt to unearth any ulterior motives, but he never was the best at reading others, or at most things regarding social interactions for that matter. After a moment, he asked, “Why me? What makes me more suited for guarding Shigaraki than helping out here?”

At this, Toga’s mouth curled into a smile that, while undeniably sweet, was coated with a smugness that even Spinner could see, as if she knew something that he, –and maybe even the others– didn’t.

“Trust me on this, Spinner. I think it’ll be the best outcome. Just keep your sword ready, and have some faith in yourself for once,” she grinned, and with that she retreated into the maze of shelves before he could ask her anymore questions.

~

The days the league spent in the library still had not brought forth anything helpful, and now Yuei’s army was marching ever closer. Spinner quickly turned away from the view from the tallest tower and made his way back to his post at Shigaraki’s side. He had barely stirred since the curse started, with only the occasional twitch and the ever steady rise and fall of his chest as proof that he was still alive. Miraculously, Shigaraki could still swallow the water and porridge brought to him, meaning that Spinner didn’t have to worry too much over his leader becoming even more malnourished than he already was. It was a small comfort, but one that soothed his own fears nonetheless.

“Bad news, Shigaraki,” Spinner groaned as he sat down in the wooden chair he had dragged over to be as close to Shigaraki’s bedside as he could. “Yuei’s army is within our sight, and it looks like they’ve got every knight within the surrounding lands to fight with them. Time’s really running out now, huh.”

He slowly reached towards Shigaraki’s hand but paused at the last moment, unsure how Shigaraki would react, or if he would react at all, before stealing his courage and taking Shigaraki’s hand into his own.

“You’ve always been the strongest one in our band of oddballs, always pushing yourself beyond your limits. So, now you gotta get up, okay? Shigaraki?”

Unbeknownst to Spinner, fighting within the heavy waters of his own conscious, Tomura Shigaraki was barely keeping himself from sinking into oblivion. It wasn’t enough to wake up on his own, but Tomura was just able to occasionally squirm and swallow the food and drink Spinner had offered. And although he knew Spinner couldn’t hear him, Shigaraki replied anyway.

Trust me Spinner, I’ve been trying to get up since this damn curse started! No way would I intentionally leave you guys to fight a battle on your own like this, especially if Yuei’s army is as big as you’re making it out to be.

“I know we’ve barely been getting by nowadays, but the only way we’re gonna see brighter days is if you wake up. And not– it’s not just in terms of victories, you know. I understand that you want everyone to get what they want in life, some happy memories and experiences, and I just think you deserve some of that too–”

He suddenly cut himself off with an involuntary sob, and Spinner noticed the tears that were gathering in his eyes. Once he realized he was crying he couldn’t stop, droplets of warm salt water cascading from his eyes.

Spinner, are you okay? Never mind that’s a stupid question, clearly you aren’t! I can feel your tears landing upon my hand. Damn it! It’s been a while since I used to be this much of an emotional sponge, a decade at least. Just another one of my dormant traits the league has brought out of me! You especially, Spinner. If I could, I’d tell you I’d actually like that, those happy experiences you want me to have. But only so long as I can share them with you, if not for my own sake, then so you never get as upset as you sound right now ever again!

“Please!” Spinner shouted, tears now pouring from his eyes like desperate waterfalls. “Please wake up! I–I’m just realizing how badly I’m gonna miss you if you don’t wake up. Please come back, Tomura! Come back, I…”

In that moment, faced with the increasing possibility that he would never see the boyish sparkle in garnet eyes, never brainstorm any more high-stakes plans to defeat the next challenge in their way, and never feel fuller than his hollow sense of self had ever felt before meeting Tomura, Spinner finally realized the core reason he was left utterly devastated in the face of Tomura Shigaraki’s endless sleep.

“I love you.” Spinner’s confession was only a murmur, as soft as petals landing on the ground after being unceremoniously ripped from their flower. “I–I love you, so please…please…” he continued to whisper, before finally bowing his head, allowing himself to be consumed by the despair of losing a love formerly unrecognized before it even had the chance to bloom, perhaps never even being reciprocated in the first place.

And from deep within heavy waters, at the risk of never again experiencing the warmth of an emotion he previously thought he was incapable of feeling, Tomura Shigaraki summoned his remaining mental power, and squeezed. As his strength finally gave out, Tomura knew that the scaled hands that held his own had surely felt his last call from the depths of his own mind, hopefully understanding the meaning behind it, and with his trust placed in the dragonborn paladin he had come to truly admire, he sank into oblivion.

~

Spinner was quickly tugged out of his mourning by the nearly bone-breaking squeeze of the cold, boney hand he was holding. It couldn’t have lasted more than five seconds before it went completely limp, but it was enough time to shock Spinner out of his depressive state and realize that not only had Tomura somehow heard his cries, but answered them the only way he knew how in light of the curse. Although the first fact left him embarrassed for a moment, the second practically set him ablaze with the implications of what the squeeze most likely meant. So in spite of his embarrassment and the already creeping uncertainty in his interpretation of Tomura’s message, he built up his resolve and slowly started leaning downwards.

What if I’m wrong about this? What if he meant something else by squeezing my hand?

He could feel his face grow hotter, his stomach twirling itself in knots as his self-doubt grew.

But what else could it mean? Dammit, I’ve never been good at reading cues, especially ones that could possibly be romantic.

He could begin to feel the soft puffs of air from Tomura’s perky nose, slow and steady in his cursed sleep.

Ugh, what would Tomura do here? What would he tell me do?

At this point, his lips were mere inches away from Tomura’s, quivering slightly in apprehension and hesitating before the point of no return.

But I know what he would tell me, don’t I? Hasn’t he already told me that I should get what I want in life. Well, someone I want is right in front of me, and I think that someone wants me too. He’d tell me to go for it.

And so, he went for it, gently pressing his scaled lips to Tomura’s ever-dry ones in a chaste kiss. A few seconds passed, and Spinner started to worry that he’d gone and ruined everything, until he felt the twitch of fluttering eyelashes against his cheek and a slight press upwards from the lips below his own. He pulled away just in time to see the garnet eyes he adored reveal themselves from behind heavy eyelids.

With the last remainders of his shock, Spinner could barely get out the words, “Me? Really?!”

“Pft, yeah you!” Tomura laughed, as his soft smile widened into the enthusiastic grin that caused Spinner’s heart to speed up.

“I just,” Spinner inhaled as he gathered himself, trying to shake off the rest of his disbelief, “…why me out of everyone? I’m not all that powerful or amazing at what I do, so I’m not sure what you see in me, you know.”

“Well you’re thinking about it from the wrong angle, first of all. I could probably recruit a hundred swordsmen, but I know none of them could ever fit by my side as well as you do.”

Hearing the reassurance straight from the mouth of his true love, Spinner was finally able to settle down, taking the opportunity to hold his beloved close as Tomura returned the action and continued.

“You’ve always been so loyal, yet never at the cost of leaving your opinion unheard. You allow me to lead, but you know when to step in and suggest another idea when I’m about to do something stupid in the heat of the moment. You’re another critical yet encouraging mind that I can bounce ideas off of. But most importantly, despite all the potential to worship me for my godlike strength, you continue to treat me as human I am within my innermost layers, something that I’ve barely ever been seen as by everyone else. You’ve never been too aggressive, or too submissive, when interacting with me. In fact, you’ve always been so good to me. So how could I do anything other than do right by you in return?”

Spinner, struck silent by the confession, could only reply in the form of yet another kiss, this time fully reciprocated by Tomura in a sweet and loving affirmation of their feelings.

The only thing that prevented their kiss from continuing any longer than a minute was Twice yelling about the Yuei’s fast approaching army, yet as the two lovers dashed towards their companions to hash out a plan, scaled hand in boney hand, they both knew that they would most likely have all the time in the world to explore their new relationship.

#spinarakiweek2020 #spinaraki #shigaraki tomura #spinner #shuichi iguchi #smol’s stuff #smol's stories

[starscheme]

Only You

Chapter Fourteen: Fight or Flight

Peridot returned with Garnet and began setting up a few machines in the living room right away. Some were meant for Lars, while the others were meant for Spinels Gem. Luckily for Lars, even when he had to move Sodalite, she didn't stir at all.

Steven had gone to his bedroom for some peace and quiet while Lars was being checked out. Pearl tried to convince Steven that he shouldn't be holding the bubble, but he didn't want to put it down. Sitting at the edge of his bed, all he could do was stare somberly at the bubble in his hands.

The Half Gem felt emotionally drained. One of his happiest memories with Spinel was immediately followed by something horrible. Why was it always Spinel that had to suffer?

While Steven was taking some time to himself, Lars was being inspected by a Gem with very little bedside manner. Peridot had removed his shirt rather roughly and even while Lars protested, she poked and pinched his skin to note the initial reaction.

"Wouldj'a quit it!?" Exclaimed Lars in a bashful huff.

"Oh don't be so sensitive," Peridot replied simply, staring closely at the side where Pearls light had struck him. "Hmmmm...this should have done a lot more damage. Perhaps you're more durable than before?"

"I have no idea, but it still hurts like hell. Can't I get some of that weird healing water?"

"Negative," answered Peridot. "I need to inspect all the burns and wounds first. Also-"

"What are you doing?!" Shouted Sodalite from across the room.

Lars and Peridot turned to see the Blue Gem rushing over, pushing herself between them with her arms held out to shield Lars. "G-get away!"

"Hey, I'm doing a check up here!" Peridot insisted.

"It's fine," Lars began, placing his hand at the top of Sodalite's head. "She's not hurting me."

Sodalite still looked apprehensive, but she backed down slowly, stepping to the side and taking his arm. "...you're...okay?"

"I'm okay," he nodded. Though he suddenly realized he was shirtless and started to internally panic. "Um-but uh, don't you need to rest some more?"

Sodalite squeezed his arm close to her chest, "I want to stay here with you. Can't I?" she pleaded.

Lars was honestly afraid to move. His bare arm being clung against the Gems soft chest. He sat perfectly still and averted his gaze from her pleading eyes. "F-fine! But just-you have to sit down!"

A bright smile laced Sodalite's face and she released his arm with a quick nod. Doing as she was told, the freckled Gem grabbed a chair and placed it beside Peridots work station before sitting herself down.

Sodalite watched as Peridot ran several tests on Lars. When she finally appeared done with him, she called the other Gems over to her. Lars was just happy to get away from her. She had been rather rough with him and it was made worse with Sodalite watching so intently. He didn't want to look weak in front of her, so he had to simply suck it up while Peridot manhandled him.

"Are you still hurt anywhere? Did Pearl damage you too severely? Are they certain that I got all the poison from your-" Sodalite had begun to frantically drown Lars with questions as he slipped his shirt back on, but before she could finish, Lars pressed his finger to her lips.

"Stop. I said I'm fine," sighed Lars. He knew she was worried, but at the risk of worrying her further, he leaned in to whisper while the other Gems talked seriously at the other end of the room. "Look, I'm sure they'll ask you to help with Spinel...but don't let them put you in danger, okay? ...I mean, don't push yourself just because you feel like you have to."

Sodalite was quiet for a moment before she nodded her head quietly. So this meant that the others wanted her to purify Spinel? She didn't much care for the idea. The poison inside of Lars was a small amount and it nearly ended her. However, she still saw Steven as a Diamond. If he were to request it of her, how could she refuse?

While Peridot huddled close with the Gems to discuss their options, Steven was still sulking up in his room. He was laying on his back with Spinels bubble sitting over his heart. Staring up at the ceiling, Steven tried hard to think of what could have gone wrong. If this was someone else's doing, how was he supposed to find them? Why would they make Lars attack the others? Why would they target Spinel in the first place?

"Spinel...I don't know what to do..." he whispered into the air.

"Steven," Peridot began as she slowly entered his room. "Are you ready for us to look at Spinel?"

"...was there anything strange about Lars?" Asked Steven without responding to her initial question.

Peridot shook her head, "there was nothing strange inside of him. Sodalite must have gotten it all. Whatever it was. ...I would have liked a sample or something to look at actually," she admitted. "Maybe we will get more answers when we try and see Spinels Gem."

"...this isn't corruption. ...it's not like anything we've seen before. What does that mean for Spinel?"

"...have...we considered that this was something...already inside Spinel?" Peridot suggested carefully.

"What?! You mean like, she's the one causing all this?" Asked Steven, becoming defensive at once as he sat up straight.

"W-well, when we consider how she changed back then...what if her Gem has been corrupted in a different way? What if—"

"—-is that what you think?! That she's just broken beyond repair?!" Steven demanded, getting to his feet now.

Peridot regretted voicing her theory, but it was something they had to be prepared for. No Gem had ever changed the way Spinel did. "She might have created this poison within her Gem by accident...it could be warping her mind!" Shouted Peridot as bravely as she could, determined to make Steven face the facts no matter how upset he got.

Steven felt a lump form in his throat and a quick sense of anxiety washed over him. "...so then...can't Sodalite just purify it? I mean, if that's-"

"We have to take a look at Spinel first...and get a sample of the poison..." answered Peridot.

"A sample..." he repeated. "How would you get a sample?"

Peridot wrung her hands nervously, "we...would have to crack her Gem. Just a little."

"WHAT?! YOU'RE NOT CRACKING HER!" Steven insisted, his body glowing pink as he held the bubble protectively in his hands.

Suddenly, Pearl and Garnet came running up the stairs, as if waiting for their cue to join the conversation. "Steven, calm down," urged Garnet before standing in front of Peridot.

"I'm not going to let her—" Steven tried.

"—-I know it sounds terrible," Pearl chimed in. "I was against it too, but Steven...if Spinel really is corrupted in some new way, we have to do something to figure it out. We have to fix her! This could even mean she might go back to the way she used to be."

It was clear to Steven that they had discussed this already. They must have known he wouldn't agree to it, but he was surprised they got Pearl on board. "No," Steven shook his head, "you keep saying she's broken, but she's not! I thought we went over this! Cracking her? That's too extreme."

"You know we would never hurt Spinel. We just need to see if we can help her. Give us the bubble Steven. Everything will be okay." Garnet spoke as softly as she could, holding out her hand for the bubble.

"I-I can't," replied Steven shakily. "There has to be some other way to figure this out. What if you accidentally shatter her? What if her Gem is weakened by the poison or whatever this thing is?"

"We are going to take every precaution we can," offered Peridot.

"NO!" Steven shouted again, a pink wave of light bursting from him and knocking everyone off their feet, allowing Steven an opening to run by them and down the stairs.

With all the shouting, Sodalite and Lars were already on alert, watching anxiously as Steven rushed down into the main room with Spinels bubble.

"Steven, what's going on?" Lars asked in confusion. The Gems had barely gone up there and then all they heard was shouting.

"Sodalite, you have to help Spinel," began Steven in a panic. "Do what you did with Lars and take whatever's inside of her out!"

Lars shook his head, "Whoa-Wait a sec, Steven. Is that what the others said? Did they find out what it was?"

"Who cares what it is! Just take it out and get rid of it."

With a small bow, Sodalite held her breath and nodded her head. "Y-yes My Steven," she answered quietly.

Lars flared up and grabbed Sodalite's shoulders to force her back up. "Don't do that! You don't have to kill yourself just because he says so!"

"That's not what I'm asking her to do! I'm not ordering her to do anything, but she's the only one that can help Spinel right now," Steven insisted, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was coming down the stairs. He felt crazy. Hurting the others so they wouldn't get her Gem, asking Sodalite to do something dangerous, the fear that Spinel might change, it felt like he was being backed into a corner and couldn't get out. He was her boyfriend, he had to protect her. It was starting to feel like he was the only one on her side.

"I'm not against helping Spinel, but shouldn't we figure out what this is before we make Sodalite take in any more of it," implored Lars, still keeping his grip on Sodalite's shoulders to make sure she didn't do anything stupid.

However, as Lars and Steven went back and forth, Sodalite could see a horrible dark mass forming around Steven. His fear and anxiety was growing fast and if it crept any further, Sodalite was afraid it might consume him. "Stop..." she muttered under her breath, her shoulders beginning to tremble.

"See?! You're scaring her!" Lars pointed out.

"STOP IT!" Sodalite screamed, closing her eyes and covering her ears as darkness covered them all.

Lars couldn't see anything, but he felt Sodalite rip away from his hands and he heard footsteps. "Wh-what's going on? Sodalite?! Steven?!"

It wasn't long after he called out into the void that the light returned. Though it did nothing to help his panic when he saw that Steven and Sodalite were no longer in the room.

#steven universe #su #only you #stevinel fanfic #stevinel #chapter 14 #fight or flight #spinel #cg spinel #fanfiction

[the-awkward-outlaw]

A New Adventure - Pt. 4

Motion of Things to Come

Warnings: spoilers

Masterlist

Read on AO3

A week has passed since you found Arthur. He’s adjusted better than you thought to life inside your home. Over the weekend, you even took him to the grocery store for your weekly trip. You told him if it got to be too overwhelming to let you know and you’d leave and come back another day, but he took it very well. He asked a lot of questions that attracted funny glances from a few people, but he seemed fascinated by it.

He was even more fascinated when a guy on a motorcycle zoomed past you on the way home. Despite it being February and still the middle of winter, it was a warm day. Not unusual for Utah. People always take advantage of the warm weather when it comes around. 

You can tell Arthur’s getting stir crazy in your home, being cooped up all the time, spending long hours alone while you’re at work. Sage, your dog, is his only company. You feel bad, but you just can’t risk him getting into trouble. 

It’s Friday afternoon and you decide to take him for a walk in the park where you met him. Since it’s at the foot of a mountain, he’s welcome to explore it. It’s not pretty by any terms, mostly just dead grass and some dried up sage bushes, dormant in the winter, but it’s still outdoors. 

Arthur’s mood picks up quite a lot more than you thought it would as you walk down the street towards the park. You let him hold Sage’s leash (you’ll let her off once you actually hit the park). Arthur doesn’t stare as much as he did when you first met him. 

Despite his frustrations at being cooped up, he’s been sweet and kind to you. You know from playing the game he has a quick temper, but it hasn’t shown. Perhaps he’s trying to keep it down because he knows how much you’re helping him, how much you’ve already helped him. He’s responding extremely well to the antibiotics. 

Once you reach the park, Sage goes running off, barking wildly purely for the fun of it. Arthur watches her with a fond smile. 

You ask him what he watched on Netflix today while you were at work. He’s long since finished that history series you started him off with and has tentatively ventured into more adventurous shows. He recently stumbled into the Planet Earth series and has found it fascinating. You’ve come home the last few days to find him sitting on the couch with his journal in hand, his eyes staring amazed at the animals on the screen. 

He talks about the most recent episode he saw, one documenting the migration patterns of wildebeest in Africa.

After a short period of comfortable silence, Arthur asks you about your job and if you like it. 

“It’s alright,” you say. “I’m just a processor now.” You explain what that is. “But I only have three more months to go before they decide if they want me as an appraiser. I have to take some classes if they say yes and then I can start working from home.” 

Arthur’s eyes brighten when you say that you can work remotely. He’s probably just happy to know he’ll have a companion that can actually talk back. 

When you reach the cave where he came out of, with the funny drawing that ended up being the portal that brought him here, you both stop.

“You ever think of going back?” you ask, fearing the answer.

“Yes,” he says. “But I don’t know if I can. Not unless I wanna die.” When you ask what he’s talking about, he admits that a few days ago, he snuck out of the house and went back to West Elizabeth. Everything was exactly the way it was when he left. His horse was even nibbling on the same patch of grass. However, he said the full effects of his TB slammed into him. It was as though he’d never taken any of the medicine. When he returned here, he was back to healing and he did feel better. 

“Guess that means that unless I wanna die, I’m stayin’ with you,” he finishes. 

Your stomach does a backflip. Of course, you doubt anything will ever happen between the two of you. He probably finds you weird or is just uninterested in you in that way. Not that you blame him. It’s not like anyone’s ever found you attractive, desirable or even remotely interesting. 

“So I guess when it comes to your world, it’s like a Narnia thing,” you say. 

“A what?” he says brusquely. 

“Nevermind,” you say quickly. You’ll show him those types of movies when he’s a bit more familiar with movies that have a lot of CG and thick plots in them. 

You keep walking away from the cave, following the natural trails around the foot of the mountain. Sage looks back on the pair of you every few moments, wagging her tail furiously. 

“Shit,” you say, looking ahead. Further up the trail, you see a pair of female deer grazing. Sage isn’t afraid of deer at all. Most dogs probably would be because of their size, but you’ve lived out here since before she was born and you got her as a puppy. She’s used to deer and she even likes to bark and chase them. One time though, a doe that probably had a fawn hidden close by got mean right back with her and nearly kicked her in the head. It took everything you had to get Sage’s attention and she ran back with a furious deer on her tail. 

Arthur just chuckles. “Ah, I wouldn’t be too worried,” he says. “She’s a smart girl.” 

“Yeah, but she has her stupid moments.” 

As if to prove a point, Sage looks at the deer hard, sniffs and then looks back at you. She trots back to you and then stares hard at the deer again. Then she gives a loud “borf” and the deer look up. Upon spotting you, they leap away into the grass and disappear. 

“See? Smarter than you think,” Arthur chuckles. 

Suddenly your hands bump into each other as you walk. You both pass awkward apologies and “it was my fault,  you’re fine”. However, you can’t help but feel like your hand’s burning where his touched yours. 

The next morning, you take him to the Smith and Edwards Hardware store in the south end of the valley. You love coming here, it has all sorts of odds and ends for decent prices. It’s also definitely a store Arthur would like. There’s hunting gear, camping gear, things for owning and riding horses. And most importantly: clothes fit for a cowboy. 

After first meeting him, you bought him a couple of cheap shirts and jeans, but they were generic and, as mentioned, cheap. You could tell he didn’t like them and was fine wearing his blue button up shirt. 

When you get to the store and go to the shirt section, you spread your arms and say “Mr. Morgan, go find whatever clothes you like and pick to your heart’s desire!” 

“Morgan?” you hear a voice say. Turning around, you find a boy in his early twenties maybe. He’s looking hard at Arthur. “Hey, you do look just like Arthur Morgan! Nice cosplay, man! You’re killing it!” 

He asks Arthur to take a couple of pictures. Since you’ve introduced him to the widespread functions of phones already, he’s not shocked by the camera in the man’s hand. He is shocked that he recognized him, but he graciously takes photos with him with a flabbergasted smile.

When the man thanks him and walks off, Arthur turns to you. “A’right, spill,” he says. 

“What?” you say, trying to sound dumb. 

“How in the hell do so many people know me? You knew my name the second you set eyes on me and so did he. What, am I a historical figure or something?” He scoffs at this thought. 

“Not exactly,” you say. You haven’t brushed up on the game or video games at all in fact. 

“Listen, Arthur, I know it’s not ideal, but I will explain it all when it’s the right time. When you’ve gotten a little more used to… this world, I’ll show you. You might not like it though.” 

He just huffs. “Fine. But at least tell me the general idea of it. I deserve to know that much at least.” 

You really don’t want to do this in a store where other people can hear you, so you tell him you’ll explain it in the car. 

Arthur just shrugs his shoulders and goes around picking out a few shirts and two pairs of jeans. You browse the isles of vintage candy for a moment, stalling to go check out. How in the hell are you going to explain this?

The inevitable comes and soon you’re in the car, driving home with Arthur. He brings the subject up again. 

“Okay, Arthur. There’s something called a video game. Video games are a sort of… type of visual story telling but not like movies. You get to play the main character of the game and kind of experience it as if you were them. Well, a couple years back, a game came out that focused on you after things fell apart in Blackwater for the game. It follows you until…” 

“Until what?” he says in a deep growl. This is clearly not what he was expecting. 

“Well, until you end up… dying.” 

He sighs heavily. “It’s the TB, ain’t it?” 

You nod, deciding not to go into the complications of the four possible endings in the game. “Yeah. Then the game switches perspective to John Marston a few years after. It won a lot of awards and people raved that it changed the industry of video games. It made a lot of waves. Think about it, Arthur. You’re famous!” 

He sighs again and looks out the window. “Famous for dyin’ or bein’ a damn fool, I guess. I think… Dutch has changed, Y/N. When we got back from Guarma, and when we were there too, he just… liked killin’ folk I think.”

You grab his hand and squeeze it reassuringly before you can stop yourself. “I know, Arthur. I’ve played the game. A few times, actually. And I know what happens to Dutch. But you try. You try your hardest to help him see reason and when that doesn’t work to get John and his family out. You’re a good man, Arthur.”

“I’m not, Y/N. You don’t know the things I done.” 

“But I do, Arthur. Obviously not everything, but I know a good chunk of it. I know a lot more than you think, in fact. Now I don’t have a lot of faith in people. Think everyone is out for themselves, more than happy to step on the little people. I’ve been one of them for longer than I care to admit. But trust me when I say I know you and you’re a good man. You may have made some poor decisions, but who hasn’t? We’ve all done things, said things, intentionally hurt people and later regretted it. But you try. You try to do better, to make up for them. Besides, no one’s inherently good or evil. We all have both inside us.” 

He sighs again and looks at you as you stop at a light. His hand flips up to meet yours and you swear you feel him squeeze it. “Thank you, Y/N. I got real lucky when I stepped out of that cave and bumped into you.” 

You’re glad the light turns green so you have an excuse to look away and hide your blush. 

#rdr2 fanfic #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #a new adventure #i'm awkward

[profiler-in-courage]

Serial killer will show up in Ch.6, but for now here is Ch. 5 of what I have decided to call “Creekmore”

Creekmore Ch. 5

Emerson’s thoughts wandered as he looked out his office window to the setting sun.

Splayed out on his desk were notes from the case file. Though he hadn’t studied them in a good 20 minutes.

He was thinking of her.

Running his mind over her face, her words, their interaction. Everything.

He had been away from her for only an hour but it felt like days.

“Anything jumping out at you?” said Burnham, startling Emerson out of his thoughts.  

Emerson grabbed a photo, “Oh, no I haven’t even really looked.”

Burnham leaned on Emerson’s desk, sliding a page over with his finger.

“Chief says he is out of ideas. The only thing we can do is wait and hope he slips up,” said the blonde haired detective. “City council wants to enact a mandatory curfew.”

Emerson pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I know,” he said.

Worry flooded his system. For the first time he was worried about Gwyn.

They didn’t know who this killer was or when he would strike, or anything about him.

For all Emerson knew he could live in the same apartment complex as Gwyn.

He picked up his phone. He hadn’t planned on texting her until he got home...or if she messaged him first. But this worry however rational or irrational was throwing a wrench in that plan.

“Em? Em!”

Burnham shook Emerson out of his thoughts for the second time in a few minutes.

“Hmm?” answered Emerson, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

“Where are you right now?” asked his friend.

Emerson scratched his head, “What do you mean?”

Burnham folded his arms. If it was one thing he knew it was the man sitting across from him. Years of friendship and working together made it easy to read Emerson.

“You’re distracted,” said Burnham.

His dark-haired counterpart leaned back in his chair.

“I’m not.”

Burnham rolled his eyes.

“In all my years working with you I have never seen you waste time. And you have wasted about an hour sitting here staring into space.”

Emerson paused, mulling over whether or not he should tell Burnham about today.

Oh what the hell, he thought.

“I went on a date today,” Emerson admitted through clenched teeth.

Always one for dramatics, Burnham through his hands up as if someone had just kicked a field goal.

“What!?”

Emerson’s eyes glanced down to a dead girls’ pictures. He scooped them up and slid them back into their folder. He felt awkward talking about the woman he had just met with women who would never meet another person again staring up at him.

“You met her on Tinder? What did you do? What does she look like? pestered Burnham.

Emerson showed him Gwyn’s profile.

“Oh nice! Very nice!” he exclaimed, wiggling his eyebrows.

“She made me feel something again Jacob. I haven’t even spent a full day with her and I can’t get her off my mind,” said Emerson, biting the tip of his thumb.

He was getting too attached. He could feel it.

Emerson had been on a handful of dates within the past year but no woman had made him feel anything at all. Except for Gwyn.

“That’s great Em. You’re supposed to feel those things you know,” said Burnham softly.

Emerson rubbed the back of his neck, “I know.”

“Look, it's your first good date since what? Lyla? It’s not surprising you’re excited,” said Burnham.

A few miles away, Gwyn was having similar thoughts about the small town Texas detective.

Emerson Woods, thought Gwyn as she poured spaghetti noodles into a pot of boiling water.

The detective had certainly left his mark on her. She hadn’t stopped thinking about him since he left.

She absentmindedly stirred the pot of pasta.

What about the dark-haired detective drew her to him?

Besides his looks of course.

She thought back to their conversations and his intense gaze.

He listens, she thought.

She had run out of fingers to count the number of men whose eyes glazed over mid-date.

His wit had matched hers.

His voice. His voice was like warm honey.

Dripping onto...the floor

Gwyn jumped as the water in the pot boiled over.

She lunged to turn the stove off, quieting the liquid.

Gwyn slopped a scoopful of noodles into a bowl, reaching to grab a jar of marinara sauce from the cabinet above her.

Should she text him?

She had a strict rule about never being the one to message first after a date. She should be the one being pursued, not the other way around.

And yet.

She was ready to throw that rule out the window with a few others that hadn’t made it to this stage of her life.

He’s at work, she remembered.  

There that settled it. She would have to wait.

Gwyn finished her dinner and stuck the bowl in the dishwasher, letting the soft hum soothe her mind as she sat down to read.

After a few minutes and realizing she had read the same sentence about Winston Churchill seven times, she snatched her phone off the coffee table.

Oh hell. What is this high school? she thought.

Gwyn bit her bottom lip, wondering what to say, trying to salvage her one last good rule.

This was one of the rare times she didn’t have a perfectly formed sentence.

“She seems to be very intelligent…” started Emerson.

Burnham was still at his desk wanting to know details.

He felt his pocket vibrate.

Emerson didn’t flinch, not wanting to give his friend any reason to snoop.

After a few more facts about Gwyn, Burnham finally left.

You’re already excited and you don’t even know if it’s her, he thought.

He huddled over his phone and unlocked it.

G: I had a great time today Emerson.

He rubbed his chin to hide a smile.

E: As did I. You excite me.

It was true. Gwyn excited him like nobody had in years.

Gwyn bounced her foot over her leg. He had responded quick. That was a good sign.

She glanced down at the time. It was nearing 6 pm but....she wanted to see him again. Tomorrow was too far away.

What is this guy doing to me? she thought.

She mulled over the pros and cons of inviting him back to her apartment for the second time in less than five hours.

He might think I’m a slut.

But she didn’t want to sleep with him.

Liar, she thought.

Well, she wouldn’t sleep with him. She wasn’t that bold. And she had a feeling he would politely refuse anyway.

Really she just wanted his company again. He was interesting. He was interested in her. It was a win-win situation.

He’s fun to look at.

That was certainly a pro.

He might kiss you again.

Another pro.

An actual kiss.

Well when she put it that way. What was she waiting for?

Gwyn tugged at her hair. Could she really send this invitation?

This type of behavior had no precedence in her life.

If he says no that would be embarrassing.

A con. Probably the worst con. She hated feeling embarrassed.

She didn’t even know what time he would get off work. For all she knew he could show up at midnight.

You could stay up that late for him.

“What the fuck am I doing?” she said to herself.

Gwyn however, liked taking risks.

#claes bang #creekmore #also can someone show me how to post a gif or do i have to use the little gif search #fanfic

[dvp95]

quiet on widow’s peak (5)

pairing: dan howell/phil lester, pj liguori/sophie newton/chris kendall rating: teen & up tags: paranormal investigator, mystery, online friendship, slow burn, strangers to lovers, nonbinary character, trans character, background poly, phil does some buzzfeed unsolved shit and dan is a fan word count: 3.3k (this chapter), 16.8k (total) summary: Phil’s got a list of paranormal experiences a mile long that he likes to share with the world. Abandoned buildings, cemeteries, and ghost stories have always called his name, and a particular fan of his has a really, really good ghost story.

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

"I don't know what I'm supposed to be looking at."

"Oh, for the love of - you're holding it upside down, Christopher, that's why you -"

"How is this my fault? Why don't you have your screen rotation enabled? ...I still don't know what the fuck this is a picture of."

"You are so - Phil. Hey, Phil? Hello?"

Long fingers snap in front of Phil's nose and he startles a bit, almost upending his hot chocolate all over the table. He gives PJ a reproachful sort of look, embarrassed about being caught zoning out.

"Hi, what," says Phil.

PJ glowers at him. "You can get his number later. Pay attention, you lump, this is your job."

"I wasn't," Phil starts to protest, but there's no real use in lying to PJ. He sighs and takes PJ's phone from Chris. "What are we arguing about? You got some photos?"

"Yes," PJ says. In his exasperation, he looks and sounds uncannily like a substitute teacher dealing with a group of kids that are being difficult on purpose. It's a little funny, but - PJ drove them here. Phil isn't going to risk getting abandoned for laughing at him.

Phil squints at the screen. He tilts his head to the side. He tilts the phone to the other side.

"I don't know what I'm looking at," he admits. "It just looks like graffiti to me, Peej, and that's not exactly unusual."

"Graffiti of what?" PJ presses.

"Geometry homework?"

Before PJ can scold him for not taking this seriously enough, Phil gets distracted by Winnie's sudden cackle. His head turns in the direction of the noise like a dog hearing a whistle, and PJ kicks him.

"I swear," PJ starts.

"Sorry," Phil says quickly, "it's just that - that's the person who sent us the essay on this place."

He doesn't expect subtlety from his friends, because he knows better, but he does have some hope in the back of his mind that immediately gets dashed when Chris claps his hands together excitedly, Sophie almost leans right off her chair trying to get a look at Winnie, and PJ stands up.

"What are you doing?" Sophie asks, but PJ is already taking his phone out of Phil's hand and walking to the counter.

Phil buries his face in his hands and watches through his fingers as PJ slides his phone over the counter and says, "Hey, uh - it’s Dan, right? Will you take a look at this for me?"

Winnie glances up from where they're wiping down the espresso machine and makes eye contact with Phil before they look at PJ. They smile, a little bemused, and pick up PJ's offered phone. They tilt it a couple of different angles with a frown. Phil can't help but notice how their hand covers the large phone with ease.

"See, Peej," Chris calls over. Their table isn’t far enough from the counter to justify the way he practically shouts it, but Phil has already given up on looking normal in front of Winnie. "None of us know what the bloody hell it is, just tell us!"

"They look like," Winnie says slowly, "sigils."

"That's exactly what they are," says PJ. He shoots a triumphant sort of look over his shoulder. Phil rolls his eyes. He doesn't understand why PJ had to make a whole production out of something that he could have texted them when they were still in the house.

With another little smile, Winnie hands PJ's phone back over. "Guessing that was in the Wilkins place?"

"It was," PJ says, sounding a bit distracted all of a sudden. "Sidebar, I really like your nails."

PJ wiggles the fingers on his left hand to show off his own gaudy, bright blue polish, and Winnie's smile widens. They've got such soft cheeks, indented with dimples that Phil wants to poke at.

As if they can hear Phil's thoughts, Winnie's eyes flicker over to him again.

They’re talking to PJ, and the conversation is loud enough for Phil to hear - in theory. The problem, of course, is that he keeps zoning out completely when the soft lighting catches the glitter high on Winnie’s cheeks or they gesture with their big, distracting hands. Phil could honestly not figure out if PJ and Winnie are talking about nail polish or the Wilkins house or some other topic entirely, because he’s too busy watching Winnie laugh.

This is definitely going to be a problem. Winnie isn’t a pretty boy, and Phil knows that, whatever his stupid gay monkey brain says when he looks at them. He can unpack whatever this pull of attraction means when he isn’t, technically, working.

“Why would there be sigils on the attic floor?” Phil asks, more to get his own brain on track than to interrupt whatever’s going on at the counter. He turns to Chris and Sophie, who shrug in eerie unison. “That’s weird, right? Maybe people are just bored and trying to scare the locals.”

“Or people are summoning spooky, scary things,” Chris suggests. He’s grinning wide and wiggling his fingers, so Phil has no idea if he’s being serious. Chris is always like that, riding the edge of sarcasm so far that Phil has known him for two years and yet doesn’t know for sure if the guy believes in ghosts or not.

PJ does. He doesn’t even pretend to be down to earth at the best of times, and listening to weird noises on Phil’s computer always gets him in peak conspiracy form.

“I think the better question is why did we have to leave right away?” Sophie hums, stirring her drink. She’s long since shucked off her jacket and curled up on the chair like she’s at home, firelight reflecting off her eyes and earrings. “Did he recognise them?”

“Bet he just freaked,” says Chris.

“Peej doesn’t freak.”

“Bet he did this time. Bet he went up into the attic and it was all spider-y and creepy and he freaked at the first sign of prior human life.”

“Sigils mean things,” Phil says, pulling out his laptop. “They’re not just random shapes.”

“They do, but they also are.”

Phil’s head jerks up at the sound of Winnie’s voice, suddenly so much closer. Winnie is standing awkwardly beside their table, in the process of taking Chris’ empty mug away, and their cheeks flush a soft rosy colour when they make eye contact with Phil.

“What do you know about them?” Chris asks, leaning forward in clear interest.

It takes a beat for Winnie’s eyes to leave Phil’s. “A bit,” they say.

PJ sets a new drink in front of Chris and ruffles Sophie’s curls as he sits down, and Phil wonders what they look like to a complete outsider. He’ll have to message Winnie later and ask what they think is going on here.

Maybe it’s easier if you don’t know them, actually. Maybe there’s a very simple answer that Phil is unable to see past all the strange noises he’s heard through the thin walls of the Brighton house and the cuddle piles he’s walked in on and the way Chris openly flirts with him at any given opportunity.

Phil doesn’t understand the look that passes between Chris and PJ. That’s nothing new, really, but something about this one unsettles him. He wants to know what they’re thinking, because if it’s something to do with Winnie, it feels like Phil has the right to know.

“Right,” says Chris. He’s got the sort of dubious expression that he usually reserves for when he’s asking if Phil ate the rest of the biscuits.

“What?” Phil asks.

“Nothing,” Chris says convincingly, giving Phil a winning smile. It’s always a little disconcerting to watch Chris pull up and discard personas as easily as if he were changing scarves. Something about it feels different to the way Phil gets when he retreats into himself and puts up his walls, because all Phil is ever trying to do is deflect, deflect, deflect, but Chris is more of an actor, and a good one at that. Phil doesn’t think he’s ever seen a side of Chris that wasn’t intentionally put there.

Sometimes he wonders how well he knows these people that he shares so much of his life with. He wonders how well they know him.

Phil turns back to Winnie to see if anything about the exchange made them uncomfortable, but they’ve gotten sufficiently distracted by Phil’s laptop screen. They snort and give Phil a sideways sort of glance.

“I don’t think that’ll get you very far, mate,” they say.

The Google search in front of Phil simply says ‘what sigils’.

“I wasn’t finished,” Phil huffs. He backspaces the question entirely and taps his fingers on the edge of his keyboard.

“Hi, I’m Sophie,” Sophie says in that soft, soothing voice of hers. She smiles up at Winnie. “The drink is delicious, thank you.”

“Oh, er,” Winnie says, clearly caught off-guard by the unexpected politeness. They bite their lower lip and shift from one foot to the other, still holding an empty mug to their chest. “You’re welcome. Had a lot of practice. You can call me Dan, if you like.”

They look to Phil when they say that, and Phil has to look away before those brown eyes draw him in again.

“Dan,” Phil says, because he can’t help himself. He wants to know how the name feels in his mouth and it’s a little strange, actually, how well it seems to fit there. He gestures across the table before he can start to overthink in public again. “Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum over here are Chris and PJ. And you know my name.”

“You’re Tweedle-Dum,” Chris informs PJ solemnly.

“Hi,” Dan says, giving them an awkward little salute.

“You seem to know more about this than we do,” Sophie says, gesturing at the empty chair at the head of the table. “Care to talk us through it? If you’re not too busy, that is.”

Dan raises their eyebrows and pointedly looks around the quiet, empty coffee shop. Their coworker has her headphones in and looks like she’s in danger of falling asleep against the cash register.

“I think I’ve got some time,” they say, dry, and set the empty mug down as they sit.

--

Twenty minutes later, and Phil is no closer to understanding the symbols scratched into the Wilkins attic floorboards. He learns several other things, like the theory behind chaos magic, the etymology of the word ‘sigil’, and, inexplicably, Dan’s opinion on impressionist art, but he doesn’t follow half of the paths that Dan’s rambling wanders down.

It’s cute to watch, at least. They get so worked up and gesticulate wildly, and it makes Phil wonder if they have any idea what they look like when they do that. He has to hold onto his mug to stop himself from mirroring the gestures.

Phil glances around at his friends to see if anyone is following this ‘explanation.’ Sophie’s got a little crease between her eyebrows and Chris is just looking at Dan, a little slack-jawed, but PJ is nodding along.

“Exactly,” PJ says when Dan pauses to take a breath.

“Fucking what?” Chris asks. Phil is unreasonably glad that he doesn’t have to be the one to say something. He’s just as lost as Chris is. “Sorry, but what the fuck? What did any of that even mean? Did I have a stroke halfway through that?”

Dan looks sheepish, the rosy patch on their cheek deepening and spreading until their whole face is pink. Phil finds himself fascinated by it, but he really doesn’t want Dan to feel like they’re being annoying or anything when they’re just being kind of helpful and very cute. Their teeth dig into their lower lip again, and Phil idly wonders if Dan has ever heard of chapstick. The shiny lip product they’re wearing doesn’t seem to be helping with the dryness the way Phil would have expected it to.

“Sorry,” they say, suddenly much quieter. They link their fingers together like they’re stopping themself from talking with them again. “So, it’s like… you can’t really look up what these mean, because that’s not how sigils work. They’re not runes or, like, Gallifreyan, there’s no dictionary out there telling you what every sigil ever means. The person who creates them is the one who makes them up, like…”

They pull a small notebook out of their apron and Phil hands over a pen from his bag without thinking twice. Dan gives him a small smile, still seeming embarrassed now that they’ve been confronted with Chris’ blunt confusion.

The notebook is full of small doodles and indecipherable bullet points when Dan flips through it to find an empty page. Phil is surprised by how much he wants to look closer, but he’s got this pull in his stomach that he’s pretty sure has been there since he first heard Dan laugh. He wants to know Dan better. It’s been a long time since he wanted to know anyone at all, because, well, Phil and new people are very un-mixy things.

Phil and his friends all lean closer to watch as Dan taps the pen against the page thoughtfully. “Okay,” they say, “one of you, tell me something you want in your own life.”

“I want a dog,” Sophie says immediately.

“Me too,” Dan grins, their dimples on full display. “What kind of dog?”

“Small. Definitely fluffy. I don’t really mind about different breeds or anything.”

“Okay,” says Dan. They write SOPHIE HAS A SMALL FLUFFY DOG THAT SHE LOVES at the top of the page in block letters. “You don’t say you want something, you say you have it already. I’m guessing you guys have heard about speaking things into existence? It’s kind of like that.”

This whole system is foreign to Phil, but having a visual is helping a lot. “How does that become what PJ found in the attic?” Phil asks, curious.

“First, you take out the vowels,” PJ is the one to say. Dan gives PJ a bright smile that has Phil feeling a pang of something he doesn’t have a name for. “Then all the double letters. It breaks the sentence down into just a few consonants, right? That way you can use them as a kind of base, I think.”

“That’s exactly right,” says Dan. “At least, as far as I know? Like, I don’t know every type of sigil and method of creating them that’s ever existed or anything, I just get lost in Wikipedia sometimes.”

Underneath the first sentence, they write SPH HS SMLL FLFFY DG THT SH LVS, and then S P H M L F Y D G T V under that. The breakdown is a lot easier for Phil to follow than just listening to Dan ramble, as long as he doesn’t get too distracted by Dan’s long fingers around the pen.

“‘Y’ is a vowel,” says Chris.

Dan shrugs. “This is just an example, anyway. So then you’re supposed to make the sigil out of the base letters, like -”

They sketch out a couple of messy attempts, their tongue poking between their teeth in concentration, and Phil is fascinated by watching the letters get more and more abstract until they resemble something like a single image.

It doesn’t look exactly like the ones on the floorboards, but Phil thinks that’s probably some combination of artistic liberty and individual thought patterns on how letters can fit together into a single symbol. PJ holds his hand out for the pen and draws his own take on the same sigil, and the rounded preciseness of his lettering next to Dan’s spiky, symmetrical finished product is really interesting to look at.

“Then you’re supposed to forget it and activate it,” PJ informs the table. “Although that order doesn’t make much sense to me.”

“That’s really cool,” Sophie says softly, reaching out to press her fingers against PJ’s sigil.

“It is cool,” Dan agrees. “But that’s what I mean - they are random, in a way. You’re never going to be able to look at those sigils and, like, reverse-engineer them until they have a meaning.”

“Which is exactly why I needed to get out of there,” PJ says, more triumphantly than Phil thinks he has any right to. Yeah, this is interesting and everything, but Phil doesn’t think it proves anything at all. “Because who knows what someone summoned into that place!”

Dan snorts. They look up at PJ through those long, dark eyelashes and give him such a skeptical look that Phil has to hold back laughter. “Nobody summoned anything, mate,” they say. “This is a load of rubbish, same as any other type of ‘magic’. I just think it’s fun to read about when I can’t sleep.”

The look of absolute betrayal on PJ’s face sends Phil over the edge, and he’s laughing before he can stop himself.

“Okay, okay,” Phil says between giggles. “This isn’t a debate forum. You two can argue about this later. So we kind of know what the symbols are but also we don’t, and they’re more or less a dead lead. What I am hearing is that PJ did, in fact, get freaked.”

“Ha!” Chris crows. He sticks his palm out towards Sophie, leaning into PJ’s personal space to do so. “Pay up, Newts.”

“I didn’t make a bet. You did.”

“Still! I won!”

PJ smacks at Chris’ hand and scowls around the table. “I didn’t freak. I don’t freak. I just think we should be on alert in a place that is covered in creepy sigils that could do anything at all to us and our environment.”

“There’s nothing they could do,” Dan says, seemingly unable to help themself. “They’re doodles.”

“We shouldn’t be there without some kind of protection,” PJ insists.

“What d’you suggest?” Phil hums, already typing up some notes for future Phil to look at later. He knows he’ll forget something core if he doesn’t do it now. “Holy water? I don’t know any priests.”

He’s teasing, just a little bit, because PJ’s steadfast determination to live on a planet where impossible things happen every day is very funny.

“No, that’s for demons,” Chris pipes up, cheerful and half-sarcastic as always. “These are witches!”

“You’re the demons,” PJ says flatly.

Phil reaches across the table and pats PJ’s hand without looking away from his screen. “If it’ll make you feel better, you can Sharpie some protection sigils on us before we go in next time. I need to see the attic for myself, but I definitely got a weird vibe just being in that place.”

“Dan,” the girl behind the counter calls over. She’s long given up on pretending to work at all, and has been watching something on her phone the entire time that Dan’s been talking to them, but Dan still startles like they’ve been caught out doing something they shouldn’t. “Sorry, but it’s quarter to. We gotta start closing up.”

“Right, yeah,” Dan says, sounding a little flustered. They stand up and start collecting all the empty mugs on the table. When they reach Phil’s mostly-full hot chocolate, they raise an eyebrow.

“I don’t really like hot chocolate,” Phil admits. He gives Dan a little grin. “Maybe I’ll come back tomorrow and try the coffee?”

He can only imagine what his friends’ expressions look like right now. He doesn’t bother checking, even when Dan’s pretty eyes flick over to them momentarily.

“Okay,” says Dan. Their shiny, chapped lips stretch into a wide smile. “I won’t be working, actually, but… I can stop by if you guys - I dunno. Want another set of eyes? Ones that don’t jump immediately to ghosts and witches, perhaps?”

“Sure,” Phil agrees before his friends can give their input on the matter. “I’ll message you.”

Dan ducks their head in a surprisingly shy gesture for a person who takes up so much physical space. Their eyelids glitter like their cheeks, their nails, their lovely eyes, and Phil might be a little screwed, here.

#words words words #phan #phanfic #phanfiction #dnp fic #quiet on widow's peak

[natashasbanner]

and so the feeling grows, Chapter 3

Weddings bring out the romantic in all of us or at least that's what Harry keeps saying. Macy isn't entirely convinced.

One of her sisters is getting married, the other is playing matchmaker with the invitations and her best friend thinks the whole thing is hilarious.

Or, Mel is getting married and it brings Macy and Harry closer, a feat they didn't think was possible.

A/N: I was planning on posting this yesterday, but I fell asleep and woke up at ten pm. Please enjoy and let me know what you think :D

Also on AO3

X

The house was in chaos. Well, that was putting it nicely. 

There were flower arrangements on every available surface, the dresses and tuxes for Niko’s side were hanging in the dining room and Macy and Maggie’s dresses were on a rack in the living room. The contents of Maggie’s binder were spread everywhere, taped to the walls and scattered over the entire first floor. Maggie herself was running around trying to put the final touches on everything from which mascara would be best on Mel to whether or not Niko should wear her curlers to bed.  

Macy was staying out of the action, holed up in the kitchen with Harry who was there for moral support. They were baking muffins for breakfast in the morning, well Macy was baking and Harry was sitting at the island, stealing bites of chopped fruit when he thought she wasn’t looking. 

“Does Maggie realize she’s not the one getting married?” he asked quietly. 

Macy turned around and swatted his hand away from the bowl of blueberries. 

“Mel hasn’t exactly made it easy for her,” Macy defended, catching a glimpse of Maggie shoving Niko into the dining room. “And weddings are stressful for everyone involved.” 

He plucked a blueberry from the bowl and had it in his mouth before she could stop him and he smirked. “You seem to be doing fine,” he said, inclining his head toward her. 

“I took myself out of the equation,” she said, making a waving motion around the kitchen. “I’m helping by making breakfast for tomorrow. You’re just sitting there.” 

“They’re not my sisters.” 

“Harry,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron. “You’re family too, you know.” 

He smiled, taking another blueberry. “So you all keep telling me.” 

“Because it’s true.”

He shrugged his shoulder and ducked his head, his eyes on the book he’d been pretending to read. Macy watched him for a moment before going back to the mixer on the counter. She switched it on and watched the ingredients inside blend together. 

“I’m gonna kill her.” Mel’s voice cut through the noise from the mixer and she switched it off and turned around to see Mel standing in the entryway of the kitchen. 

“I’m actually going to kill her,” she repeated and Macy could see the fire in her eyes and the burning redness in her cheeks and chest. 

Harry was on his feet and at Mel’s side in a flash, guiding her to his vacated chair. 

“I don’t think Niko would appreciate taking her fiance to jail the night before her wedding,” he said soothingly, moving to pull a bottle of liquor from cabinet by the fridge. 

Macy stood back and watched him pour two glasses and hand one to Mel. Her shoulders relaxed as he sat beside her and patted her shoulder. 

“I just don’t get why they’re panicking,” she said with a sigh, downing what was in her glass. “We’ve been planning for months, it’s all perfect.” 

“They’re just nervous,” Harry said, taking a sip from his own glass. “It’s a big thing, getting married.” 

Mel snorted and reached for the bottle on the island. She poured herself a generous amount before Harry took the bottle from her. “If it were up to me, I’d just take Niko to Vegas and get it over with at one of those drive thru chapels.” 

Macy chuckled and Harry did the same, finishing off the rest of his drink. “I’m afraid you’d be the one leaving the house in a body bag if Maggie or Niko heard you say that.” 

“That doesn’t leave this kitchen.” Mel pinned him with a glare and he raised his hands in defense. 

“You have my word,” he promised and Mel pointed her finger in Macy’s direction. “She took herself out of the equation.” Macy nodded her agreement and Mel relaxed and downed her drink again. 

“Okay, that’s enough of that,” Harry said, sliding the bottle out of her reach. Macy stepped forward and screwed the lid back on, taking the bottle to put back in the cabinet. “I’ll distract Maggie and you go grab Niko and sneak out the back door. You can stay at my place tonight.” He dug his keys out of his pocket and pressed them into Mel’s hands. 

“You two deserve a peaceful night before tomorrow,” he said, already moving to stand. 

“Harry, we can’t do that,” Mel said, shaking her head, trying to give Harry his keys back. 

“I insist, for our collective sanity.” He pushed her hand away. “You need a night away from this madness and I know you won’t get that here or at your apartment.” 

Mel didn’t move for a moment, but eventually she stuck the keys in her pocket and slid out of her chair. “Thank you, Harry.” 

To Macy’s surprise Mel wrapped her arms around his middle and hugged him. He looked over her head at Macy, eyes wide and she just smiled as he settled his hands on her back. Mel pulled away quickly and hurried out of the kitchen to find Niko. 

Harry looked over at Macy, rubbing the back of his neck. “How do you feel about a sleepover?”

“I’ll allow it,” she said. “But you have to actually have to help me make these muffins.” 

“Deal.” 

X

“What you did with Mel was really great,” Macy said softly. 

They were laid out in her bed, her laptop open between them with her favorite show playing quietly. 

Harry shrugged, his eyes on the screen. “It was nothing.” 

“It wasn’t nothing,” she argued. “You always know how to handle these things.” 

He turned his head and nudged her shin with his foot. “I’ve had loads of practice.” 

“So have I, but I hid in the kitchen and you sent Mel and Niko away and got Maggie to give the wedding planner from hell bit a rest,” she said with a sigh. 

“Don’t sell yourself short, Macy. You’ve done a wonderful job with your sisters.” He reached across the distance between them and took her hand. “Mel is getting married tomorrow and Maggie damn near planned the whole thing. I’d say they turned out alright.” 

He paused, giving her hand a tight squeeze. “My point is, you  your best with the cards you all were dealt. And it’s okay to need a helping hand every once in a while, a hand I am more than happy to lend.” 

Macy smiled and sighed. “Do you ever wonder what your life might be like if you hadn’t met us?” 

“Don’t you mean if I hadn’t found you sobbing in the campus library in the middle of the day?” 

She let go of his hand and swatted at his shoulder. “I was dealing with a lot and you refused to leave me alone.” 

“I couldn’t leave you there, not in good conscience. Pardon me for being a decent human being,” he said huffily. “And I think the ten years of friendship that came from that day was well worth a little extra nudging.” 

Macy reached for his hand and he laced their fingers together, bringing their joined hands to his chest. 

“I almost ran the other way,” she admitted. “When you finally convinced me to eat something, I was going to bolt as soon as you turned your back. But you never turned your back on me.” 

“And I never plan to,” he said, bringing her hand up to his lips to kiss her knuckles. 

“Even if it means giving up the comfort of your own home for the night so that my sisters don’t kill each other?”

He grinned against her knuckles and planted another kiss there. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

Macy bit her lip, her heart thumping in her chest. Harry looked back at the screen, holding her hand against his chest and she could feel the warmth of his skin through the thin material of his shirt. His eyelids were drooping longer and longer with every passing minute until his grip on her hand loosened. 

Macy used her free hand to close her laptop before settling against her pillow. She pulled her hand free from Harry’s and smoothed the hair back from his forehead as her eyes slid over his face. His mouth was opened slightly, his soft snores filling the quiet room. 

She could already imagine all the teasing Maggie would no doubt find time for tomorrow, even with the wedding going on. Harry spending the night in her bed sure as hell looked like they were a couple. And Macy would be lying if she said it hadn’t crossed her mind more than a handful of times over the last ten years. But their friendship was far too precious to hope for anything more and risk losing everything. 

He came into her life that day in the library and never left. Not when Mel fought his presence tooth and nail for years, not when Maggie refused to leave his side to the point where he couldn’t leave the house for over a week, not when Macy screamed for hours when he took her sisters out to dinner when she was working late and he left his phone on the kitchen table. He was there for everything after her mother died and she was made guardian of Mel and Maggie. 

Harry was their family and Macy’s best friend, that had to be enough. 

He stirred under her touch, reaching up to swat her hand away from his hair. His fingers closed around hers and he held her hand against his chest. Macy smiled to herself and let the steady rhythm of his heart beating against her fingers lull her to sleep. 

Her last thought before she drifted off completely was that this was enough. 

X

Macy woke up to pounding on her bedroom door. She shot straight up in bed, completely disoriented. Sunlight streamed in through the cracks in her blinds and she blinked against the sudden brightness. The bed shifted beside her, drawing her attention to Harry who was somehow still asleep. 

He’d moved closer through the night, filling the respectable gap that had been between them and had his arm draped loosely over her waist. Macy didn’t have time to worry about the implications of that because the pounding started again and this time Maggie yelled through the door. 

“Macy! You guys need to wake up. Someone has to go get Mel and Niko.” 

“I’m up,” Macy called back, scrubbing her hands down her face. 

Maggie banged on the door one last time and Macy heard her annoyed huff. “They were supposed to start getting ready an hour ago. Tell Harry I hate him for helping them sneak out.” 

Harry chuckled from beside her, pulling his arm away to cover his eyes as he rolled over. Macy missed the warmth as soon as it was gone, but she shoved that thought down as soon as it surfaced. Now was not the time. 

“He heard you,” she said, but she could already hear Maggie’s retreating footsteps. 

Harry started laughing and Macy turned to pin him with a glare. He couldn’t see it, but she smacked him in the shoulder to get him to look at her. 

“What was that for?” he asked, looking up at her with sleepy eyes and furrowed brows. 

Macy poked him in the center of his chest. “This is not funny and it’s your fault she’s already on the war path.” 

“It’s a little funny.” 

She narrowed her eyes and snatched the pillow from under his head. “Get out of my room.” 

He just laughed again and Macy was tempted to smother him, but that would only set Maggie’s schedule back even further. And that was out of the question. 

“She’ll come back and drag us out if one of us doesn’t go out there.” Macy warned. 

He held his hands up defensively. “I’m going, I’m going. I’ll even bring coffee when I come back.” 

“I won’t smother you then,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest as he got up. 

“You were thinking about smothering me?” He asked, tilting his head to one side. 

“Jury’s still out.” 

“I’ll make that a double shot for you then,” he said with a smirk, eyeing the pillow she was still holding in her hands. “Have fun with Maggie.” 

Macy wrinkled her nose and watched him walk over to the door. “I don’t like you.” 

He chuckled as he turned the doorknob. “Yes you do.” 

The door behind him with a soft click and Macy repeated, “yes, I do.”

#hacy #macy x harry #my fic #please enjoy :D #fingers crossed this chapter actually shows up in the tags

[pixeldreqms]

ever since sabrina joined a group chat with multiple cast members and other mutual friends, she's learned to put her phone on do not disturb when she goes to sleep. the occasional buzz or two won't bother her, but the night where ian, evan, and kennedy talked nonstop from the hours of one to four in the morning and blew up her phone with notification after notification after notification? that bothered her. that night forced her hand. so really, it's partially evan's own fault that she doesn't get his string of texts trying to wake her up and talk to her. her phone may not wake her up that night, but the sharp sound of something hitting glass does. the first hit makes her start to stir, but it's the second or third one that has her eyes opening. at first she's confused, not knowing where the sound is coming from. then, as she's sitting up and trying to blink the blurriness of sleep from her eyes, her window gets struck again. now, she's a little concerned. she debates getting up to peek outside, but if it's some crazed serial killer trying to lure her to her window, she doesn't want to risk it. the window that's currently being bombarded with what she can only assume are the pebbles from their front yard is at the side of her house, out of view of her parents room, but she's sure if she asks her dad to get up and go into another room to look outside, he'd do it for her. that's when she grabs for her phone, and sees nine messages from evan. she skips right to the last one, which reads: 'i'm gonna show up at your house if you don't text me back.' the tension in sabrina's shoulders deflates as she tosses her phone down. this idiot... her phone also tells her it's almost three in the morning. he knows very well she went to bed hours ago, so why he expected a text back, she doesn't know. she supposes she could just read his texts to answer any questions she may have, but she doesn't want to keep him standing outside her house any longer. pushing her covers from her body, she goes to the wide window at the wall opposite her bed and opens the curtains. low and behold, there's evan burgess, digging through the dunne family's yard looking for more pebbles. his skateboard is laying at his feet. sabrina takes a second - just one - to run her fingers through her bedhead in a half-assed attempt to look presentable, then she opens the window. evan's head snaps up at the first sound of it, grinning up at her. her lips purse tightly, trying with all her might to not beam down at him. she should be annoyed he's here, waking her up in the middle of the night. annoyed. not secretly pleased to see him. "hey idiot, why the hell are you throwing rocks at my window?" she whispers, just loud enough for him to hear from the ground. her bedroom is only up one flight of stairs, so the distance isn't too far, but she still has to raise her voice a little more than she'd like. "my neighbors will call the cops on you if they see you outside my house like this." "bring 'em on." she laughs. she didn't stay annoyed long. "why are you here?" she asks again. "you didn't text me back." he says it as if showing up to her house is the obvious solution to that. as if she should have expected this. "i was asleep. like most normal people at three in the morning. you couldn't have waited a few more hours for a text back?" "i really couldn't," he shakes his head, and sabrina feels herself smiling again despite herself. "i figured you were asleep, but you could have also been dead and i didn't want to take that chance." "evan - what?" she laughs again. "is that the only reason you're here? i didn't text back and you assume death?" "no. kinda." he pauses, but she doesn't say anything, and her silence forces him to elaborate. "i had a nightmare about you and i just wanted to make sure you’re okay." sabrina's face softens. it's a ridiculous answer, but the sincerity of it strikes her in a way she's surprised by. did he really skate all the way to her house, which is over half an hour away from his own, just because he had a bad dream about her? what kind of person did that? a crazy person. a beautiful person. she can almost feel her heart swelling with fondness as she stares down at him. "are you serious?" she asks. "yeah." this is where she should tell him she's fine and he can go. she should tell him that it was sweet of him to want to check on her, but there was no need, and he can make his journey home now. her neighbors may get suspicious of a random person lurking around the dunne home, but her parents will actually ground her for eternity if they catch a boy anywhere near her room at this hour. she knows this, and she knows what she should say to him. but instead, she says the complete opposite. "do you wanna climb up?" his smile when he nods and says yeah is instantly enough to make her not regret it. there's a tree at the edge of the home, perfectly positioned right near a slant underneath a window. once evan has climbed the tree - only falling from halfway up one time, getting both laughed at and scolded by sabrina for his noisy clumsiness - he jumps onto the slant and carefully makes his way around the corner of the house and onto her window ledge. he sits at the edge of it, both long legs dangling in a way that makes her a little nervous he may fall, so as she tosses one leg over the ledge to sit on it with him, she puts a hand on his knee and taps it. a silent, insistent gesture to get him to sit in the same position as her. he thankfully obliges, safely straddling the ledge and facing her. it's not pitch black out, but still dark, and she briefly thinks about turning on her own bedroom light. but she can just barely make out his face in the moonlight which means it's the same for him, and she thinks she likes this. the freedom to stare at him without being so visible. any metaphorical hearts in her eyes hidden in the dark. he looks tired, and she fully believes he'd come to see her right after waking from a bad dream. it makes her want to comfort him, but she's not sure how to do that. when his eyes turn to meet hers, her gaze flickers up to the sky instead. the moon is big and beautiful tonight. she's always adored the moon - the decor in her room would tell anyone that. but she rarely gets the chance to appreciate it. she goes to bed so early, and usually rises with the sun. so really, she should be thankful for this chance. he apologizes for waking her, but she shrugs him off. she wants to be annoyed, but now she just feels the complete opposite. she feels light. cared about. she can't think of a single other person in her life who would react the same way as him. "what was the nightmare about?" she asks, curious. "what happened to me?" "you don't want me to tell you." she starts to argue, but stops herself. sometimes she forgets how well he knows her. "gory?" he nods. otherwise a fan of horror and all things spooky, gore's the one thing that she can't even stand to hear about. it makes her squirm. she's pretty sure she's only mentioned this outright once, maybe twice, in the years they've known each other. but he remembered. "did i die?" for some reason, this question makes him laugh. "no. me and bigfoot saved you." his answer makes her laugh, too. but she quickly shushes him, covering her own mouth with her hand, but she's still giggling behind it. "why did you wanna check on me then?" she asks. "if i was fine?" "you didn't die, but you were still... you know. fucked up. i think i woke up in time." "before i died?" he nods, not laughing any longer. she feels the strong need to hear the sound again, especially now that he has that look on his face. "forget about me, i hope bigfoot made it out alive," she says, and it has evan smiling again. "i'm kind of really curious how this dream team came to be. can't you give me anymore details? just leave out the icky bits?" so he does, starting from what he thinks is the beginning since some of it's become a blur already, only really leaving out chunks of the end. so sabrina's not sure what happens to her exactly that has her dying in evan's - and bigfoot's - arms, but she gets the backstory. it's mostly hilarious, imagining the three of them as vigilantes of sorts, an unstoppable trio stealing mail trucks and trying to solve a murder, with it somehow ending up with them in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. but just from evan's tone, she can tell that the way the dream ended makes the whole thing less amusing to him. "it felt so real at the end," he tells her. she nods in understanding. she frequently will wake up, heart racing from an all too real feeling nightmare. real anxiety making her hands tremble even after she knows it was just a dream. even more often for her though, she experiences the opposite of that. she'll have amazing dreams where she swears she'll wake up and still feel someone holding her hand. still feel the warmth and pressure of an arm around her. she'll wake up and she can almost swear the dreams aren't so much dreams as they are memories of a kiss she's never had. but she can feel it so vividly then, and her lips tingle when she wakes. she'll be in a haze the rest of the day after a dream like that, unable to even think if she as much looks in evan's direction. evan - who is always the one in those dreams with her. always. as much as she hates that he had a dream so awful and stirring, it is kind of nice knowing she's not the only one who dreams of the other like that. she wonders how often he dreams of her, but she doesn't dare to ask. "i've had dreams like that about you," she admits, but is careful to not give much more detail than that. "they can be scary." he echoes her own question from minutes ago. "did i die?" "no, i've never dreamed about you dying. other bad stuff though. one time i had a dream that you and kenny kidnapped jimmy, the lighting guy, and i had to testify in court against you, and you were crying and screaming at me and it was so vivid. like the dream was so dumb and unrealistic but that part was so real and i woke up really upset." "you fucking snitched on me?" he scoffs. "i didn't snitch," she says in defense of her dream self. "you were already caught. i just... confirmed your guilt." he shakes his head. "snitch." it's easy after that, to fall into a seemingly never-ending conversation. they linger on the topic of dreams, retelling some of the funnier or generally more memorable ones. he questions how she remembers so many, and she confesses to him that she has a dream journal where she likes to document all the dreams she has, so she doesn't forget them - and then has to quickly change the subject when he wants to see it. there's too many confessions within it for her to let that happen. otherwise, she'd be willing to share. even with all the other weird, personal dreams she's had and written down, she'd let him. she trusts him. as they keep talking, sabrina can tell whatever ugly images he'd seen in his sleep were starting to fade from the front of his mind. he still looks tired, and she's sure she does too, but he looks happier now. or maybe just distracted, but if that's the best she can do, she's happy she was able to do so. she tells him that she doesn't like the thought of him skating in the middle of the night, and he tells her all the weird stuff he saw on his way over - possibly in attempt to make her feel better, but it does no such thing. it concerns her even more, if possible. they discuss all his attempts at teaching her to skate. he insists she's getting better even though she's not so sure. they talk about their friends, how she has to silence her phone because of them, they tell stories from set that make them laugh no matter how many times they retell them. he tries to convince her to sneak downstairs to get him a snack, but she refuses. she tells him to go home if he's hungry, but hopes he doesn't actually go. he doesn't. not then, anyway. neither of them budge from their spots, or make any move at all to do, until a little later when the alarm of sabrina's phone forces her to. "oh my god, it's 5:30," she whispers, phone in hand once she grabs it from her bed and comes back to stand at the window. "you've been here for two and a half hours." "you set your alarm for 5:30?" he asks. they're clearly not shocked at the same things. "i get up at six and i like time to snooze," she explains, setting her silenced phone on top of her nearby desk. finally, she looks up at the sky again. she's not sure her eyes had left evan ever since they got deep into conversation. it's still dark, but she can see the sun beginning to think about making it's way into the sky. she can't believe they sat there and talked for so long. or rather, she can believe they have the ability to talk for hours, as they've done so before. she's just surprised because it hadn't felt like more than a small chunk of that time had passed. how had the night gone so quickly? "my parents are going to be up soon," she notes with a sigh, knowing that'll mean she won't be able to get anymore sleep at this point. it'll be suspicious if she goes back to bed and is asleep when they awaken. they're used to their daughter's early schedule, and highly encourage it. "oh. so i should probably go? i don't wanna get you in trouble." that hadn't been why she mentioned it, and she quickly regrets saying it out loud. "wait-" her hand darts out to touch his shoulder, even though he hadn't started to climb down just yet. realizing this, she moves her hand away and sits on the ledge again, back in her original position. her legs are a little sore from sitting like that so long, but it doesn't stop her. "um... just stay until the sun's up. so you don't have to skate in the dark." it's a weak excuse to keep him there longer. by the time he got out of the neighborhood, it'd be bright enough for him to see, but luckily he doesn't call her out for it. he just nods, and they sit there and watch as the sun slowly rises in the sky. despite her tiredness, she feels oddly peaceful. the night sky has always been her preference, but something about the birds chirping sounds beautiful this morning. a car starting somewhere down the street pops the little bubble evan and sabrina had been living in, and they seem to both realize that as the world comes to life around them, their chances of him getting caught increase. it's time for him to. "go home and get some sleep," she tells him. "and be safe, please?" he throws his other leg over the ledge and looks to start his descent to the ground but once again, she puts a hand on him to stop him. this time, hers rests directly on his. when he turns to look at her again, she - quickly, before she loses the courage - leans in and presses her lips to his cheek. when he doesn't pull away, and possibly even leans into it, unless that's just her imagination, the urge to pull away as fast as possible fades, and she lets the kiss linger instead. the contact, and simply being that close to him and feeling his warmth radiating from him, makes the butterflies in her stomach erupt like crazy. she's never kissed anyone on the lips before, but just kissing evan on the cheek has her absolutely weak in the knees. she can't imagine what a real kiss would do to her. but she's not opposed to finding out one day. "thanks for making sure i was okay," she whispers once she's pulled away. "thanks for not being dead." just like when he'd first told her he'd came to check on her after he'd had a nightmare, she finds his words so ridiculous yet so sincere and they make her heart do flips in her chest. "you got it," she nods, lifting her hand from his finally. she stays in the window as he climbs down, until he's safely on the ground, until he's grabbing his skateboard and whisper-yelling up to her that he'll text her when he gets home. she stays in the window, watching him skate down the street until he's no longer in view.

#◦ ` ･ writing : to the moon and back #◦ ` ･ writing : moon dust in your lungs ; stars in your eyes #◦ ` ･ writing #◦ ` ･ mine

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Apparently You’re Married Chapter 3

Dredd x reader

Summary: So Wolfe finds out who exactly you’re married to, and you enjoy the hell out of the consequences.

Word Count: 1500

About two weeks later, the married Judges were out in an area where they could dine in at a restaurant. They’d managed to both take the same day off for once so they could celebrate their anniversary, and they were damn well gonna take advantage of it. It’d been six months since they’d last been on a real date, and that was completely unacceptable to both parties. So down the street they walked hand-in-hand after parking his off-duty motorcycle.

Y/N squeezed his arm fondly, the leather of his jacket creaking lightly in response. “I’d almost forgotten what your hair looks like,” she teased.

“Uh-huh,” he smirked at her. Almost immediately Dredd’s face fell. “Your partner is walking towards us,” he growled unhappily.

Whipping her head back to the front, Y/N snarled, “Great.”

It was about then that Y/N saw a giant grin spread across Lily’s face, and moments after she was standing right in front of them. “Hey, partner!” she greeted loudly.

“Will you be quieter?” Y/N snapped. “Yelling about our day jobs isn’t a good idea.”

“Oh! Sorry! Anyway, bestie, who’s this?” The redhead bounced on her toes in an attempt to be cute.

“Don’t call her that,” Dredd ordered, “and if you must know I’m her husband.”

Y/N’s hand reflexively tightened around his at that. Alarmed, she looked up at his face as he rubbed his palm on the scruffy beard. It didn’t escape her notice that he was intentionally looking down at their latest annoyance.

That irritating grin was back on Lily’s face in a flash. “I was wondering when I’d get to meet you! I’m Lily!”

A cruel smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, we’ve met.”

“We have? What’s your name?”

“Dredd. Now if you’ll excuse us, we have reservations,” was his reply before he gently led Y/N to the restaurant.

It wasn’t until they were seated a few minutes later that Y/N finally pulled her mind out of the shock that that had just happened. Beaming at her husband, she squeezed the hand that she was now holding on top of the table. “I love you so much.”

An actual smile bloomed across his features as he kissed the back of that same hand. “I hope so,” was his response. “You did marry me after all.”

She laughed. “I can’t believe you just dropped that and left!”

Dredd just silently smiled at his grinning wife as she talked.

“She’s gonna be really fucking annoying tomorrow, but goddamn the look on her face might have been worth it. Word’s definitely gonna spread around the Hall though. That won’t be fun.”

“Babe, we got married three years ago, and we’ve lived together for four. I’m surprised no one figured it out before now.”

“True,” she admitted. “Still, that was awesome. Best anniversary present ever.”

The next morning, Y/N woke to the sound of someone banging on the front door. Beneath her, she felt her husband stir too. Running a hand across his bare shoulder blade, she whispered, “Go back to sleep; I’ll check it out,” before rolling off of him and out of bed.

A hand grabbed hers before she was out of reach and lightly tugged her back down for a groggy kiss. “Take your gun just in case,” Joseph requested roughly.

The persistent banging hurried what would have been a lazy morning, and Y/N was thoroughly pissed by that fact as she stepped into the living room. With a huff, she pulled her gun off the desk. It pinged to let her know that her DNA ID had been accepted. “Rapid fire,” she muttered to change the ammo type. Cautiously, she opened the door.

And she scoffed in annoyance at who she saw on the other side, because of course it was Lily.

“Well?” the redhead sneered with her arms crossed. “Are you gonna explain yourself?”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at the sheer audacity of that statement. “You come to my apartment at,” she glanced behind her at the clock, “six in the morning, bang on the door loud enough to wake me up, and then have the balls to demand answers about something that isn’t any of your business? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I’m your partner; I have the right to know things like the fact that you’re the most respected Judge’s trophy wife.”

“Excuse--”

“You know he’s probably using you, right? You’re scary, so he probably keeps you around to keep women away from him when he’s off-duty.”

“What the fu--”

“He’s way out of your league, anyway, based on how hot he apparently is under that helmet.”

Once again, Y/N’s jaw clenched as she read the unspoken “He’s in my league” in those words. “Listen here, you pampered little priss. You may have been assigned as my partner, but that does not,” her voice was shaking more than she’d care to admit, “make you my friend nor does it give you the right to insult me or my husband. I’ve known him since before you even started that fucking class back at the Academy, so don’t you dare say that our relationship isn’t real.”

A warm hand squeezing her shoulder alerted her to the fact that Dredd had come to stand behind her. Y/N turned to look up at him when he gently pried the gun out of her hand. His face was grim as he glared at Lily. Dredd was made no less intimidating by the fact that he was currently wearing only a pair of black-and-white plaid pajama pants. “Leave,” he ordered bluntly.

“No, we need to--”

“You are guilty of slander against a Judge, disturbing the peace, and stalking; together, these crimes carry a sentence of two years in an isocube. Leave, and I’ll forget the charges.”

Lily huffed, spun on her heel, and stormed off.

“I’m going to fucking kill her tomorrow when we clock in,” Y/N grumbled.

“No, you’re not,” Dredd soothed, gently prying her firearm out of her grasp. Fortunately he was included in its database as acceptable fingerprints due to their relationship, had been for four years. He then started rubbing his hands up and down her upper arms after putting the gun on the table, “because you’re not going to be working with her after this.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Joseph, what did you do?”

He smirked. “I may have pulled a few strings to get you away from that harpy. That rookie I tested back at Peach Trees is a mutant, a psychic, and she needs a partner to perform optimally. I put in a request for you to be that partner.”

“And Williams just approved it?”

“After I argued your case that you’re used to working with a partner, and that Wolfe is a liability around you, one of our most upstanding officers, yes she did. It didn’t hurt that I put in the recommendation as both her assessor and your trainer.”

“Meaning you know our qualifications better than anyone,” Y/N finished for him. “Careful, Dredd, or people’ll start thinking you’re playing favorites.”

That smirk became a toothy smile as his hands fell to her hips to pull her closer. “Just wait’ll they see what I’m about to do, then,” he muttered before picking her up to set her on the table by the front door, prompting her to wrap her legs around his waist. From there, it was easy to pick her back up to carry her to their bed. “Hands on the headboard, sweetheart,” he rumbled next to her ear.

In a rare show of obedience, Y/N did as instructed and didn’t even flinch when one of the two ties he owned was tied around her wrists. It was mostly for show, anyway; both of them knew that she could slip the restraint whenever she wanted. “You know, this should be the other way around since I should be thanking you.”

“And you’re doing that by letting me do this. You just sit pretty and enjoy this.”

“Laugh it up, Dredd,” she teased. “You’re next.”

“Promises, promises,” he chuckled.

It was with a great deal of reluctance that Y/N got dressed the following morning. There was a sinking feeling in her gut that something--probably her old partner--was going to happen. By this point, she and Dredd knew to trust her instincts about such things. She wasn’t a mutant, but how right her instincts were was always pretty uncanny.

“Tell Williams if Wolfe tries anything today,” Dredd requested. “Please don’t do anything that’ll get you in trouble.”

“I know. Like I said when I first got assigned to her, I’m not dumb enough to risk our relationship just because she’s unpleasant.”

He paused lacing his boots long enough to lean over and kiss her temple. “I know, but I worry.”

“You shouldn’t; you’re the one that had to deal with me back when I might have done something stupid because of her.”

#dredd x reader #dredd imagine #judge dredd x reader #judge dredd imagine #reader insert