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breadqueen95 · 3 years

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Dress - Bucky Barnes

bucky barnes x fem!reader

wc: 5k

plot: bucky and y/n’s relationship is new, and they don’t want to share with their friends just yet. but something as simple as a dress can change anyone’s mind, even the winter soldier.

content warnings: kissing. physical affection. flirting. allusions to sex. drinking. being drunk. language. bucky being a flirt.

a/n: this is for @natasha-romancff and her taylor swift writing challenge! it took me awhile, but i’ve had a ton of fun writing this. so many bucky fics are angsty, and rightly so the man has some TRAUMA. but for my first bucky fic, based on dress by taylor swift, i wanted something happier for him

***

Damn. That was a lot of leg.

“I don’t know,” you muttered as you stared into the mirror, “aren’t these things…a little classier than this?”

“Uh…have you met Tony Stark?” Natasha grumbled as she continued to scroll through her phone. “The man has never been classy a day in his life.”

“Well I know he isn’t, but fancy people show up to these things. I just don’t want to embarrass myself.” You were currently standing in front of the full-length mirror in Wanda’s room, staring at the reflection of a woman who didn’t quite look like you.

But it was you, wasn’t it? It was just…that you was wearing a very short, very sexy red cocktail dress. The sweetheart neckline was a nice touch, but the back was completely open. And that hemline? Definitely hiked way up past your knees.

“Y/n, relax,” Wanda reassured in her lilting accent, “sure, the dress is a little…spicier…than you’re used to, but it’s in a good way.”

“I’m pretty sure every single person would be able to tell I spend my days in tactical gear. God, I’m not sure I even know how to walk in heels this high!”

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Natasha threw her phone down and looked at you in the mirror. Her eyebrows were raised, and she was giving you her usual ‘don’t give me that shit’ look. It nearly had you shaking in your very strappy black heels.

“Are you kidding me, y/n? I’ve seen you strut in enough fancy parties during undercover missions to know that you’ve got this.”

“Yeah,” Wanda scoffed as she took a sip of red wine from her glass, “all she’s nervous about is what Bucky will think.”

Rolling your eyes, you tried to hide how much that sentence affected you.

“C’mon, Wanda. You know Bucky and I are just friends.”

“Do friends undress each other with their eyes whenever they’re in the same room?”

Damn it. Damn Wanda and her stupid perceptiveness.

“You’re reading too much into it, Wanda.” She just laughed at you, acting like she knew so much better.

What you knew and wasn’t ready to admit to your two best friends, was that she was right on the money.

Bucky Barnes, the infamous Winter Soldier, your favorite person in the entire world, was now your boyfriend. He had been for a few weeks now. The two of you were insanely private people. Hell, it had been years before the two of you had finally learned everything about each other. Once you had gotten past the walls the other had so carefully crafted, well…

At that point you were in love.

But the others didn’t need to know that, not yet at least. The Avengers were a family, your family. They were really the only true family you’d ever had. But Bucky…Bucky was finally yours. And you were his. You didn’t think it was crazy to just want to enjoy that, just the two of you, without everyone else sharing their jokes and opinions just yet. They did it out of love, you both knew that, but you just wanted him all to yourself.

As you looked back at your reflection in the mirror, you took a minute to really consider what Bucky’s reaction might be. He had the best poker face in the room no matter who he was with, but you knew him well enough to know how he was feeling just based on his eyes. He’d always said how much he loved red on you, and he adored every and any excuse to touch your skin. Those steel blue eyes of his would absolutely burn once he saw you in this dress.

And fuck, that was something you really wanted to see.

“Well, if you aren’t going to wear that dress, you better pick something else,” Nat said, jerking you from your fantasies, “we need to be there in twenty minutes, and we all need to touch up our makeup.”

“Actually…I think I’ll wear it,” you said confidently, trying to hide your grin as you ran your hands down the silky fabric.

What you didn’t see was Natasha and Wanda sharing a secret smirk behind you, like they’d known what you’d do the whole time.

***

Six weeks ago, everything had changed for you and Bucky.

You’d known how you felt for a long time. Bucky Barnes, despite his past, was the kind of man anyone could fall in love with. He was sincere, kind, generous, witty…everything you’d ever wanted in a partner. He had been your best friend for even longer.

It had been a long time before you could even admit your feelings to yourself, let alone to him. After everything the two of you had been through, who had the time and mental capacity for romance? It just didn’t seem important. You just chalked up your feelings to being such close friends. All you wanted was to be near him, even if you just sat in silence doing different things. Just being in the same room as Bucky brought you a sort of peace you’d never had before. Whenever he touched you, even if it was just a brief hug or brushing your back to get past you, your skin erupted into goosebumps. But that was just because physical touch was still foreign to you, right?

And his smile. God, his wonderful smile…

Bucky didn’t smile much. He hid behind a mask of stoicism, a remnant from the trauma of his horrible history as the Winter Soldier. Showing any sort of emotion, especially happiness, was hard for him. But when he finally let himself smile? It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever see.

It took several sleepless nights wrestling with those confusing feelings to figure it out. You didn’t just see Bucky as your best friend. You had it bad. Not just “oh my god he’s so handsome” bad, like the “I would take a bullet for you I’m so in love” bad. That revelation? It left you euphoric. It also left you scared.

Because you were so sure Bucky didn’t feel the same. And that thought was like a knife to the heart every time it flashed through your mind.

So you kept it to yourself. You tried to keep things as normal as possible, but your heart kept fluttering whenever he walked into a room. Being so close to Bucky meant you confided in each other about pretty much everything, and he knew you well enough to know you were hiding something.

It all exploded on a Tuesday night in the compound.

Tuesdays were your movie nights. Bucky had a lot of pop culture to catch up on, so on this night every week he would come by your room to watch a movie. It was a weekly tradition that kind of started by accident. You were shocked he still hadn’t made time to watch Lord of the Rings, so you forced him onto your couch with popcorn and The Fellowship of the Ring. He loved it so much, and immediately asked if you guys could watch The Two Towers the next week. How could you say no to him?

Tonight, you were watching 13 Going on 30. It was your all-time favorite romcom, and you figured you could both use a break from all the action and fantasy movies you’d been cycling through. Something with a happy ending was worth indulging in.

“Does that Matt guy look like Banner to you? Or is it just me?” Bucky asked through a mouthful of popcorn.

“Heh, maybe a little,” you said, “Give or take a few years.” He laughed at that, and you forced yourself to laugh quietly. You wanted to blurt out your feelings every time you looked at Bucky, so you’d gotten quieter and quieter every time you spent time with him. It was an awful reaction, and you knew he noticed. But it was better than losing his friendship, right?

After that awful and painfully obvious forced laugh, Bucky let out a huge sigh and paused the movie. He set the bowl of popcorn down on the coffee table in front of the couch, then turned to face you. Exasperation and hurt glimmered in his eyes.

“Y/n, what the fuck is going on with you?”

“W-what do you mean?”

“Oh come on, don’t give me that,” he said sharply, “I know you better than anyone, and I know for a fact there’s something you’re not telling me. Is it me? Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No, god no!” You exclaimed.

“Well it must be something I did, because you’ve never been this quiet around me and it keeps getting worse. I hate it, and I want to know what I did so I can fix it.”

“Bucky, I’m serious, it’s nothing you did—”

“Then why? Why are you shutting me out?” He cut you off angrily, arms thrown wide. “You’re my best friend, I just don’t get why—”

“I don’t want you like a best friend, Bucky!” Your eyes went wide as the words flew from your lips. In the most comical way, you clapped your hand over your mouth as if you could stop the words that had already been said. Bucky’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

Oh fuck. He didn’t get it. Curse him and his old man ways.

“What does that even mean, Y/n? Are you saying you don’t want me around anymore?”

“Bucky, of course not. God, I would never want that. Never in a million years.”

“Then you better explain, because if you haven’t noticed, I’m over 100 years old. I need a little help here.”

“It means, uh…um,” you stuttered, wringing your hands together. “Is there any chance we can just forget I said that?”

“Nope, not a chance.”

“It means…it means that I care about you. As more than a friend.”

His entire face seemed to crinkle as he processed that. If you weren’t freaking out, you’d be obsessing over how damn cute it made him look. Then his eyes got wide as he began to make the connection. Your stomach nearly fell out of your ass as his eyes lifted again to meet yours.

“I…I think I know what you’re saying,” he nearly whispered, “I just need you to get real specific real fast, because I’m not about to say anything until I know exactly what you mean.”

“It means I’m in love with you, okay?” You burst out. Even through your mortification, there was a sudden sense of relief. A secret as big as that had definitely been weighing you down. Now that it was out there, that was one less thing you had to worry about.

His eyes grew even wider. How that was possible, you didn’t even know. That beautiful mouth of his began to turn up into a small smile as he gazed softly at you.

“You’re in love with me?” He asked, his smile getting wider with each passing second.

“What, you need it carved into stone or something?” You couldn’t help but sass him. Did you fucking stutter?

“No, it’s just…I never thought you’d feel that way about me.”

“Well, clearly I do. So you – wait, you mean you’ve thought about this before?”

“Of course I have,” he said as he shrugged, “I’ve been in love with you for two years now, how could I not think about it?”

You were instantly filled with warmth and pure bliss. In all your obsessing over your own feelings, you’d never allowed yourself to consider that he might feel the same about you. It just didn’t seem possible.

“I’m sorry,” you burst out, holding a hand up, “you’re telling me you’ve been into me for two years and didn’t say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?” He shot back, inching closer to you.

“Because you’re my best friend. I didn’t want to lose you because of stupid feelings I have.”

“But…I have those same ‘stupid feelings’ for you. So can we just cut the whole act and get on with it?” Bucky brought a hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing along your skin so gently.

“Uh…um…get on with what?”

“Well I’d kinda like to kiss you, if you’re cool with it.”

“Bucky Barnes did you just use current slang to ask if you could kiss me?” You didn’t move an inch as his face moved right in front of yours, breath intermingling as you gazed into each other’s eyes. God, was this really happening?

“Yeah, guess your lessons worked,” he murmured.

“Well you better kiss me, then.”

As soon as your lips met, it was like coming home.

***

That memory, your favorite memory, replayed in your head as the three of you stepped into the elevator. Nat and Wanda were happily chatting about who would be there, what kind of antics Tony would cook up tonight, if there would be music we could actually dance to. You know, normal party things.

All you could think about was how long you had to stay until you could sneak off with your boyfriend.

You were so happy Wanda and Natasha had convinced you to wear this dress. When you’d first put it on, the difference from your normal look was so jarring that it took you a few minutes to get used to it. But now that you had, now that you felt the silky fabric shifting against your skin as you moved, now that you saw how dangerously long your legs looked in these heels…

Damn, you felt sexy.

And that sexy feeling? It made you want Bucky’s hands all over you.

But this was a party. A party thrown by Tony Stark, one of the most perceptive and observant people you’d ever met. If you left too soon, if he thought you weren’t “having enough fun”, he’d be more than a little upset. So you had to stay, drink, mingle, maybe dance a little…and then, maybe later, you could go do what you actually wanted.

The elevator pinged, indicating you had reached the topmost floor of the compound. This floor was home to a huge communal space, often used for just hanging out with the team. But on nights like tonight, Tony went all out and turned the space into something that resembled…a club?

The three of you stepped out into the massive room, upbeat music already blasting from the speakers. Typical Tony – he never really outgrew his love for dancing and parties. The bass thrummed through your body, making you want to move to the music. The lights were dim, but you could still tell who was around. It looked like you were some of the last members of the team to arrive. There was a huge bar off to the side, and Natasha headed that way right away. You turned to ask Wanda if she wanted to follow Nat, but she was already making a beeline for Vision. Smiling, you just turned right back around to follow Natasha. A drink sounded pretty good right now.

As you made your way to the bar, you felt more than a few pairs of eyes on you as you walked. You sneakily looked around as you went, noticing men and women watching you with admiration, and dare you say it, longing. As someone whose job was to blend in with the background all the time, this was a different and slightly addictive feeling. You leaned on the bar next to Nat right as the bartender slid her drink over to her.

“Straight whiskey tonight? Damn, going hard.” You quipped.

“Hey now, you know I can handle my liquor. It’s you we need to watch out for, you lightweight.”

Laughing, you scanned the party guests, looking for the one person you wanted to see. Tony had had arm around Pepper’s waist, both laughing at something Rhodey had said. Bruce lingered around them, drink in hand and looking a little nervous, but still happy to be included. Wanda and Vision were sitting quietly on one of the couches, both looking absolutely smitten with each other. Scott Lang, one of the newest additions, was busting some moves, while Peter Parker laughed as he watched. Thor, who was visiting from Asgard, laughed boisterously as he watched various guests try to lift his hammer. You couldn’t help the smile growing on your face. You loved these people so much.

Then, you saw him.

Bucky was with Sam and Steve, as usual. But even as Sam and Steve were talking animatedly next to him, those gorgeous blue eyes of his were glued to you. There was a kind of intensity in them you hadn’t seen before. Your breath whooshed from you body as he grinned at you. Trying to maintain the suggestive image your dress gave you, you managed to send a flirtatious smile his way, then turned back around to face the bar. Leaning against the counter, you knew he’d get an eyeful of your bare back. God, this was fun.

The bartender finally made his way over to you, and you ordered two tequila shots.

Nat turned to you, one eyebrow arched in surprise as she asked, “And you say I’m going hard? You can’t just down two shots right away, babe.”

“I’m not doing two shots; you think I’m stupid?” The bartender slid the shots over to you along with two lime wedges. “One is clearly for you.”

Unable to hold back a laugh, Natasha put her arm around your shoulders and pulled you into her side as she said, “Why the fuck not, let’s do it.” The two of you went through the process: salt, shot, lime. You couldn’t help but wince as you downed the harsh liquor. Of all the shots in the world, tequila probably tasted the worst. The only reason you kept going for it was the warmth it traced down your body, and you felt your muscles begin to loosen up.

“Two more,” you called over to the bartender.

“Uh, no,” Natasha shot at you, grabbing her whiskey, and pushing off the bar, “I’m good with my top shelf shit, you keep going after that gasoline if you want but I’m out.”

“C’mon, Nat,” you called out, “what am I gonna do with two shots?”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone else, babe.” She said with a wave over her shoulder.

Sighing, you turned back to the ridiculously pretty bar (seriously, how much had Tony paid for this thing?). Who else would help you look cool and sexy at a bar for your secret boyfriend?

Okay, that was the cringiest thought you’d ever had. Gross.

As the bartender slid the tequila in front of you, you steeled yourself for the nastiness that was about to happen.

“Fuck, I didn’t think this through,” you mumbled.

“Yeah, you tend to do that,” a deep voice answered on your right. Instead of being the slightest bit surprised, you couldn’t help but smile. You’d know that voice anywhere.

“Something I can do for you, Barnes?” You looked up at him from under your lashes.

“Well, it looks like you’ve got an extra shot there. Thought I could bail you out.”

“Is that all?”

Bucky shifted so that your arms were just barely touching. His hand was right next to yours, and you reached out with your pinky to lightly brush his.

“Doll, you have the gall to show up in that dress and ask what I want as if you don’t already know?”

“Sorry Buck, I’m a little slow, must be the tequila. You should probably be a little clearer.”

Putting on quite the show of reaching for one of the shots, his mouth somehow ended up right next to your ear.

“I want you.”

It was lucky everyone was so distracted and couldn’t see how you shuddered at his words. Trying to maintain brain function, you managed to take the shot with him. You were now fully facing each other. He was wearing the cockiest smirk you’d ever seen, one that would put Tony Stark to shame. You couldn’t help but respond with that same energy despite the jitteriness his three little words had reduced you to.

“Well why don’t you—”

“Hello, my friends!” A booming voice sounded between you as Thor threw a huge arm over each of you. Bucky, with his stupid super soldier strength, didn’t really have a reaction to it. You, on the other hand, stumbled a little under the weight and force of it. “It’s so good to be back with you tiny humans.”

Was…was he slurring his words?

“Thor…are you drunk right now?”

He simply laughed in response. Well, that answered that.

“Of course I am, tiny person! It can’t be a party without good Asgardian wine.”

“Wait…you have literal god wine?” Bucky, who had a look of vague irritation on his face up to this point, now looked interested. Maybe even a little excited?

“Of course, metal appendage.”

“Dude, you can’t just call Bucky ‘metal appendage’—”

“He can if he lets me have some,” Bucky interrupted.

“We have a bargain!” Thor slapped Bucky on the back before scurrying back over to where he had come from, probably to get the wine he had promised.

“Bucky, you can’t even get drunk,” you hissed, “what exactly is the point of this?”

“Since everything happened, I haven’t found any alcohol strong enough to get me drunk. I figure god wine is worth a shot.”

“Bucky—”

“When I kiss you against a wall later, I wanna be a little tipsy,” he whispered in your ear, “that cool with you?”

Unable to keep yourself from smiling again, you nodded as Thor sauntered back over. Ever since that moment a few weeks ago, right before he kissed you for the first time, asking “is that cool with you?” had become your thing.

And the idea of Bucky kissing you against a wall? Yeah, that sounded pretty good.

***

As it turns out, Asgardian wine is just as potent as Thor had promised.

For the first time in over seventy years, Bucky Barnes was certifiably drunk. It made him feel like the Bucky from all those years ago, and it was the most incredible thing. Here he was, over 100 years old, partying, and all his favorite people were here.

Including his ridiculously hot girlfriend.

Even as they both flitted around the party, Bucky and y/n still found each other’s eyes, even from across the room. They would send winks, smiles, even funny faces. All he wanted to do was be right next to her, talk and dance with her all night…

But they had agreed. They wanted to keep their relationship a secret for now, keep the attention off of them for a bit while they got to know each other in this new way.

But god damn, that dress.

Y/n in red was…indescribable. It didn’t matter what she wore, she was always the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. But in red? In this dress?

She was breathtaking.

“Buck, you breathing?”

A hand waved in front of his face, snapping Bucky’s attention back to the people around him from Y/n’s back. He had been imagining putting his hands all over that back later and had gotten more than a little mesmerized. He managed to get his eyes to refocus, finding a drunk Sam smirking right next to him and an even drunker Steve dancing next to him. But what Steve was doing couldn’t really be called ‘dancing’ per say…more like an aggressive wiggle.

“Why wouldn’t I be breathing?” Of all the things he could’ve said to get Sam’s attention off of him, that wasn’t it.

“Uh, probably because the girl you’re in love with decided to show up and show off tonight? Pretty sure you’re drooling, man.”

Despite himself, Bucky slapped a hand across his mouth, only reducing Sam to wheezing laughter. Knowing he had been caught, he rolled his eyes and grimaced a little. Of all the people to catch him, he wished it hadn’t been Sam.

“I wasn’t…staring… at y/n, I just never see her dressed up is all.”

“I never said anything about the girl being y/n.”

“…fuck.”

“LANGUAGE,” Steve yelled out, pointing a finger at his two friends before returning to his shimmying.

Turning back to him, Sam added, “Just go be with her, Buck. You’re not fooling anyone, and neither is she.”

“We’re that obvious?”

“A few weeks ago you’d at least try to hide it. Now I’m surprised you’re not jumping each other’s bones right here right now.”

“Point taken,” Bucky said, lightly slapping Sam’s shoulder before power walking over to his girl.

***

“Nat, if you don’t stop asking about Bucky and I’s relationship, I’m going to kick you,” you called over the music before taking another swig from your glass. It was no Asgardian wine, but the human stuff wasn’t half bad in your opinion. It wasn’t like you could drink the god shit, anyway. If you had even one sip, you’d be swinging from the ceiling like Miley fucking Cyrus. You were pretty drunk as it was.

“Okay, fine,” she said with a shrug as she took a sip of her whiskey, still as calm and collected as ever. “You’re almost as drunk as he is, you’ll be talking soon enough.”

“Oh? Is that your spy master plan?”

Natasha was still looking as unbothered as ever, but as she looked across the room over your shoulder, her face split into a savage grin.

“It was, but it looks like I might not need it.”

“What do you me—”

Your words were cut off as a large, warm hand enclosed around yours. Whirling around, you were suddenly face to face with the man himself. Bucky was clearly having a good time. His mouth was relaxed into the cutest smile you’d ever seen him wear, and he moved without his normal stiffness and intensity. He threaded your fingers together, smiling down at you with so much love it was a wonder Nat hadn’t said anything yet.

Looking back in front of you, ready to explain yourself, you only found empty air. Guess she’d seen all she needed to, but honestly, you really didn’t care. All you’d wanted the whole night was to be exactly where you were right now; hand in hand with the man you loved.

“We’re just kidding ourselves, doll,” Bucky called next to your ear, “Sam said we’ve been pretty obvious.”

“Nat said the same,” you answered with a sheepish smile, “kind of hard to keep my face under control when you’ve got that leather jacket on.”

“You’re blaming me?” He asked with mock indignation. “You’re the one who looks,” he gestured wildly to your whole body, “like that!”

Trying ignore the heat spreading over your cheeks, you shot back, “Like what?”

“Like the most…” he screwed his face up in the most adorable way as he searched for words, “like the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” As the last few words tumbled out of his mouth, he gazed at you with such a softness you almost melted right into the floor.

“Wanna get out of here?” You asked, finally giving up the game. It was pointless, really. Now, all you wanted to do was for your boyfriend to keep his promise and kiss you against a wall.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he answered, “Absolutely.” Without looking at a single soul, the two of you began walking as quickly as you could for the exit. You and Bucky were both leaning on each other a bit, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Stepping out into the light of the hallway, you blinked as your eyes adjusted after the dark room you’d spent the last few hours in. Bucky led you until you were right in front of the elevator, and he lazily pressed the button to go up. There was tension in the air between you, like a thread that was being pulled. Biting your lip, you stared at the doors in front of you. You knew if you so much as looked at the man next to you, you’d jump him right then and there.

The shining doors slid open, and the pair of you walked in, his strong arm still around your waist. His grip wasn’t loose in any sense of the word. Bucky kept you right next to him, even as your legs wanted to drift all over the place. You pressed the button for the residential floor.

As soon as those doors slid shut, that thread of tension snapped.

Bucky whirled you to face him, then walked you backward until you were pressed against the wall of the elevator.

“I promised I’d kiss you against the wall, didn’t I?”

He didn’t even wait for a response. His mouth was on yours in an instant, lips moving together like a dance. The kiss was slow and unhurried. You tried to bring him closer, linking your hands behind his neck and pressing yourself to him. Instead of responding in kind, he unwound your arms from around him and pinned them above your head.

Oh damn.

Okay.

No complaints here.

“You’ve been teasin’ me all night just by wearing that dress, sweetheart,” he murmured in between the kisses he trailed down your jaw, “I think it’s my turn.”

“Would it change your mind knowing I only wore this dress so you could take it off?”

The heat that bloomed in those blue eyes of his was unmistakable. As the doors opened on your floor, he swept you up into his arms and began to walk purposefully to his apartment. All the while, he kept that signature cocky smirk of his you’d come to adore.

“Bucky?” You asked once he’d walked into his unit.

“That sentence was the single most attractive thing you’ve ever said,” he murmured as he set you down. Even still, he kept you pressed against him. “But nah, I’m a patient guy. I think I’ll take my time.” He followed this by resuming his slow and sensual kisses, and you couldn’t help but melt into them.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips.

“I’ll never get tired of hearing that, doll. I love you too.”

***

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x you #dress #jenna writes #i love lanie #laniestaylorswiftwc

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unhealthyfanobsession · 3 years

Note

Can I ask for drunk Nesta flirting with Cassian in front of the ic and him getting all flustered but being secretly pleased about it???

Hell yeah you can! I love this idea! It wasn’t specified so I’m going modern here just because I’m not really sure where this could’ve happened in the canon timeline without a bunch of other factors impeding. Also I’m throwing in a dash of my fav jealous Cassian 😏

It wasn’t that Cassian didn’t want to be there. Well, no, actually that was exactly what it was. Cassian didn’t want to be there. He was exhausted and he hadn’t gotten to the gym that morning and he had a massive deadline that Rhys kept insisting they could push back but Cassian didn’t want to. He just wanted to go home and finish his report and maybe have a glass of whiskey to close off a truly awful week.

But Feyre’s art exhibit opened earlier that week and he hadn’t even gotten to see it yet and so it wasn’t like he could blow off her big party when he already felt like the world’s worst friend.

And he was completely lying to himself and everyone else. He didn’t want to be there because he didn’t want to watch Eris Vanserra’s slimy ass mill about the elegantly decorated, high ceilinged, natural light dripping, beautiful space, with his eyes glued to Nesta’s ass as if it was the art they were meant to be appreciating.

Did Cassian also appreciate every inch of her body like it had been sculpted by Michelangelo? Yeah but that was besides the point. And he had the respect to do it subtly.

“Remind me why he’s invited,” Cassian grumbled into his overpriced merlot. Because apparently only wine was classy enough for these fancy, classy, art events.

“He’s Lucien’s brother.” Azriel also didn’t look impressed by Eris’ uninvited hand on the small of Nesta’s back. Or the way he kept refilling her glass before she asked or was even done. “And he’s richer than Midas and spends a lot of that money on art.”

Cassian rolled his eyes. “We have as much money as he does.”

“Yes but you know Feyre’s rule. No family purchases. She doesn’t want to be a success just because Rhys could buy and sell this entire gallery.” Azriel was stoic as usual. Betraying no opinion on the matter.

It was several hours of carefully constructed comments where Cassian pretended he knew anything about art and pretended his neck wasn’t getting increasingly hot under his collar as Eris kept glued to Nesta’s side.

Cassian had no right to be jealous. He knew that. He and Nesta weren’t anything. Casual flirting. Witty banter. Eternal, pining, unrequited love on his end that she didn’t even seem to notice or care about. So fine. Maybe Eris was her type. It wasn’t his place to interfere.

Except that she really needed a glass of water right now and-

Cassian’s hand darted out on instinct as Nesta walked past him, wobbling a little on her completely impractical shoes.

“Careful sweetheart.”

He braced for the hissed don’t call me that, but When he looked up Nesta was blinking slowly through a hazy wall of the wrong wine.

The wrong wine because Eris had been giving her a Nappa Cab Sauv all night when she preferred old world Syrah. Which was probably why she kept drinking it so quickly, looking for her opportunity to get what she really wanted.

“Cass,” she smiled. It was a little lopsided and definitely off kilter, but even through her wine brain he could see that she was playing at something. Nesta had never called him Cass in his life. “It’s so good to see you!” Her voice went up a full octave and she pressed her entire body against his as she hugged him.

The display turned a few heads in their direction. It was mostly just family at this point, and Eris who couldn’t learn how to take a fucking hint. Technically, he supposed, Eris was family. Nesta’s fucking brother in law. Was that how it worked? Was the brother of the person your sister married also your brother in law? Brother in law once removed?

Not important, moron. Drunk Nesta. Body. Wrapped in a tight sheath dress and clinging to him. Cassian closed his hands around her back and got lost for a minute.

Holding her against him like she was made to fit in his arms. Breathing in her scent like he could capture it in a bottle and spray it on his pillow every night before he went to bed.

Someone cleared their throat. Feminine. High pitched. Mor.

Nesta had already let go and was smirking at him a little. He dropped his hands immediately. “Um, yeah, always a pleasure.”

“Interesting choice of words,” Nesta’s grin was feline. She was definitely up to something. And normally he would make a stupid remark, probably something about how much more pleasurable the evening would be back at his apartment, except that she was drunk and his entire family was staring and Eris was still standing there.

“Can I get you a glass of water?” It seemed like the right thing to say. To offer. Feyre smiled a little, a silent thank you. Azriel was covering a laugh, Mor was watching them both with narrowed eyes like a hawk, and Rhys honestly couldn’t have cared less. Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “Or maybe throw you into a pool,” Cassian joked stupidly.

“You should probably buy me dinner before offering to get me wet.” Someone dropped a glass. Cassian honestly thought it might have been him and he wouldn’t have noticed. Not in that moment. Not with Nesta looking at him through hooded eyes and talking about…

He could do this. His pants were not getting tight. Not at all. Because he wasn’t a damn teenager.

“I- um- do you-”

Nesta burst out laughing. It was a sound he’d never heard from her. She was usually all sultry under her breath snorts or ironic guffaws. Full, deep, angels singing, laughter was not usual for Nesta.

As evidenced by the fact the no one was even pretending not to be watching them anymore.

“I’ve got her.” Eris pushed himself back to Nesta’s side.

“Does he?” Nesta looked straight at Cassian, one eyebrow raised. “Because I’m willing to bet he wouldn’t have made it past glass two if your family wasn’t here.”

Azriel coughed. Amren cackled.

“You… do you want him to have you?” It came out wrong. The words. He meant did she want Eris to take her to get some water. Like he offered. He didn’t mean, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t…

“I want you to have me.” She was drunk. She was so drunk and it shouldn’t have been hot but fuck him it was. It wasn’t some sloppy college night out messed up drunk. It was a woman whose inhibitions had been soaked in wine just enough that every word out of her mouth was low and hot and honest.

“Find somewhere else to be, Vanserra.”

“Hey man what the fuck? We were talking-“

Cassian scoffed, snapping out of whatever flustered mess Nesta had put him in. “Anyone who gave her that much Cab Sauv doesn’t deserve to talk to her. Get lost.”

“I saw you eyeing the bottle,” Nesta laughed a little, swaying on her toes. Cassian moved his hands from a support on her bicep to a full arm around the waist support. Even if she did try to fall he could lift her with one arm easy. “Thought you might say something after…”

After the night they spent in her apartment with a bottle of her favourite Syrah only a week ago. It hadn’t been on purpose. Feyre and Elain and Azriel and Lucien were all supposed to be there. And they all conveniently cancelled only after he’d already showed up.

Which, judging by the barely contained grins on their faces, was even less of a coincidence than he thought. Busybodies.

“I’d offer you a glass of Syrah now, but I think what you need is a coffee.”

“Oh but then I’ll never sleep. And I do think I’m ready for bed.”

Sensing that he’d lost, Eris swore under his breath and stomped off.

“Let me take you home, Nes.” Cassian whispered into her hair.

“Hmm, your place or mine.”

“Yours,” he kissed her temple, pulling her legs out from under her and not even paying his family a backwards glance. “For a nightcap of 2 big glasses of water and a bottle of aspirin that I’m going to leave on your nightstand for the morning.”

“You don’t want to be there in the morning?”

Cassian groaned. “You said it yourself, Sweetheart. Dinner first.”

“You’re never going to let me live this down.” Nesta sighed, head lulling onto his shoulder.

“Actually go for dinner with me next week and I promise to never bring this night up again. And bribe our friends to do the same.”

“Deal,” Nesta said immediately.

An hour later after Cassian had supervised Nesta drinking her water he was about to leave her apartment when she yawned.

“Hey Cass,” she mumbled, half asleep.

“Yes sweetheart?”

“You made a bad bargain. I would’ve gone out with you either way.”

Cassian chuckled, a low rumble. “I’m satisfied with the bargain I made.”

“Cheesy as hell.”

“You love it.”

Nesta laughed, “I am prepared to tolerate it at best.”

“Good enough for me.”

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #drabble requests #nesta archeron #acosf #cassian #nesta and cassian #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #acotar

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anntoldst0ries · 3 years

Text

shinrin-yoku (Ethan x MC)

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr Noelle Valentine) Word Count/Rating: ~1.7k, PG Summary: When life's difficulties hit, Noelle navigates her way through them by turning to the nature. Category: Hurt & Comfort Warnings: mentions of trauma

A/N: May is a Mental Health Awareness month and here in the UK the theme is nature. My MC, just like me, runs to the woods when things get tough. It helps her clear her head and reconnect with inner strength.

I struggle with mental health myself and it’s important for me to speak up and address the subject. There is nothing worse than shaming or discrediting someone’s difficult feelings. It’s fine not to be fine.

If you struggle alone, please don’t. My inbox will welcome you with open arms. Two heads are better than one, even if we just complain, at least we can complain together 💜

For @choicesmaychallenge2021 Day 13 - Mental Health

SHINRIN-YOKU - A Japanese term for ‘forest bathing’ or the sense of well-being you experience while in nature.

It all starts with a seed. This tiny element which, without aid, is sentenced to certain death. But give it the right soil. Give it water, sun. And it can grow. Into something big. Powerful. Scary.

She is five years old.

They live in a townhouse, a classy Victorian era building. Undistinguished, one of many merging into the background of a typical London street. The colors are also very standard, dirty white married to ivory beige, bar for the deep green door - their rebel child.

For the random passerby, it’s nothing special. But for her, the walls of a storey house encapsulate the whole world.

The garden behind the house is neat and clean, visibly well taken care of. She doesn’t remember exact details anymore, but she remembers begging her parents to go camping in the garden with her brother. The ticklish feeling of long and slim blades of grass on her tiny feet. Looking at the stars with pure awe and delight, that only the unspoiled mind of a child is capable of.

The plot of land that the house has been built on borders a beautiful forest. A wooden fence separates the two.

To her, it’s a passage to a magical world.

A world without any particular order, living its own life, unconstricted by rules. Not in the slightest does it resemble the garden on her side of the fence, where things grow according to the rules laid out by the adults.

There is a feeling inside her that she’s too young to name, to throw it in lingual context. It’s not until years later that she realized what it had been. Freedom. To grow however you please. To be what you want to be.

Robust, effuse trees tower over her, making her feel so small. As if she hasn’t already been feeling small enough, living in a world full of giants.

But they mean something else too. They bring a secret and a promise. Promise of a bigger world out there, far from the confines of the place she calls home.

The forest draws her, singing a melody that only her heart can understand. One day, she will be a part of it.

She lives the teenage dream life.

That’s what everyone says.

She doesn’t have any real problems. She’s lucky not having to worry about money. She’s got friends. Her family is great. She just needs to stop whining. Her life is perfect.

Their words, not hers.

None of them know what happens behind closed doors.

The childhood forest is a cloudy memory. Her home is now thousands of miles away, in a city with a giant red bridge, which for some bizarre reason has ‘golden’ in its name.

But the call from nature doesn’t care about distance. It can find you about anywhere. It’s different and yet the same.

Because nature beats in one rhythm and speaks in the same language, everywhere.

The morning is chilly and humid. She’s wearing a wooly coat, carelessly threw on a pair of PJs hiding underneath.

Her steps are brisk, breathing short and heartbeat elevated. Something’s bothering her blanched face.

The voice, again.

When it first appeared, she thought it had her best interest at heart. Used to give her advice and like a good friend, ream her out when she did something bad.

Over time, things took a turn for the worse.

Snarky comments. Casually mentioned wrongdoings. Feedback on what she could have done better, differently.

Noelle hoped the voice would go away on its own.

It hasn’t.

Not only did the voice not go away, but it was actually growing stronger with each passing day. Became more vocal. Judgmental. Openly hostile.

It fed on her fears.

It’s your fault - it told her - that your parents are getting divorced.

You are not good enough.

Even a lie, repeated enough times, will finally become the truth. And so it did for her, to the point where she couldn’t distinguish her own voice from the voice of the tormentor. Sounds faded into one.

Whoever said words can cut like a knife was right. But those who knew thoughts could leave scars that are much deeper, were truly wise.

The young, beautiful girl who never hurt a soul, became a hostage. A prisoner locked in the jail of her own head.

A giant tear rolled down her face. Made of all the words her heart couldn’t say.

She hugged the tree tightly and inhaled the woodsy aroma, the scent filling her lungs fully.

It’s sensuous.

Just like that, she is small again.

She’s got all that she ever wanted.

Degree from one of the best medical schools. Graduating with honors and glowing recommendations from even the strictest professors, who kept assuring her that her future in medicine is so bright it’s actually blinding. Then, a dreamy residency in one of the most prestigious hospitals in the country.

Pretty impressive, right? Even a fool could see that. But the only fool whose opinion she cared about, couldn’t. All these things were clearly not good enough for Ethan Ramsey to stay.

She wasn’t good enough for him to stay.

Not longer than a year ago he was just a concept, an ideal without a face, body and voice. To her, he was a celebrity, a hero, someone whom mortals don’t have access to.

It was preposterous to consider for even a second Dr Ramsey could actually see something in an intern.

Standing among the moss-covered trees, every fiber of her being was filled with the thought of him.

Did the Amazonian forest remind him of her, just like every forest around reminded her of him?

Just when she won the battle for her career, she lost another. Because life had to be a zero-sum game.

As painful as that would have been, she wished she had something to hold onto. A scene she could replay in her mind. An image of him walking away. Or saying goodbye.

But he left without a word.

That was the pattern. That was history repeating itself.

She took her shoes off and stepped on the soil frosted with morning dew. It’s cold and wet. It’s refreshing. She is grounding. Reconnecting with Earth.

Tunes in with the rivers of grass, towers of trees, fences of bushes.

If the trees could speak, they’d tell stories not many people would believe in.

Tales of heartbreaks. Parables of spirits.

They are all nature’s poems.

Hauntingly beautiful. Riveting. Written without a single word.

Because nature speaks its very own language that only the soul, not the mind, can understand.

Pain is ripping her apart. But it reminds her that she’s alive. And this, in itself, is a miracle.

She doesn’t know who she is anymore.

Some people call her a survivor. But it doesn’t feel like the right word. So many things in her died. So much was lost.

The attack took a lot from her. Danny. Bobby. Sense of security. Identity. Direction.

Right and wrong, good and bad, righteous and vicious. These are all just words. Someone needs to come and teach her the meaning of them anew. Draw lines, mark out frontiers. Save her from herself.

The ground is soaked. Torrential rain turned the soil into soft mud, warm and easily slipping through her fingers. She falls on her knees, praying for the ground to consume her.

Fill every part of her. Silence the internal cacophony. To sink into oblivion.

Not many people knew about the panic attacks and recurring nightmares. They’re always the same.

She’s standing in the middle of a swamp. Danny and Bobby are drowning, their arms reaching out for her. She knows she can only save one of them. She runs out of time trying to figure out how to save both. As a result, they both die. Time stands still and yet everything is spinning, moving, racing. The reality is a riot of overbright colours.

Suddenly, a ring breaks the silence. A polyphonic intruder. She looks at the screen through hooded eyes and notices the caller’s name. It’s him. He’s petrified. Worried to death. Asks her to stay where she is.

Some time later, maybe 10 minutes, maybe an hour - who knows? - he emerges from the gathering of stocky oaks.

The moment he catches the sight of her, he starts running. She notices a lab coat underneath the jacket. He’s soaking wet.

Even though he is so close, he doesn’t slow down. Crashing into her, he scoops her in his arms. Catches her in the tightest of embraces.

Asks her if she’s fine. No. Not that question again. She’s tired of people fussing over her and gets angry.

Had it not been for the attack, would he even be here? The voice asks mockingly. It doesn’t matter to her. He’s there now.

Deep baritone is gentle and full of concern. It’s not like that. It’s not his intention to fuss. He’s simply worried. Because she is the most important thing to him in the whole world. Yes, he wasted so much time. That’s why he refuses to lose even one more second.

A dam breaks within her. Eliciting a quiet sob. She clutches his shirt, holds onto him for dear life. Moments later, she’s screaming at the top of her lungs. Singing her poignant birdsong.

How is she supposed to cope? Will things ever go back to normal? What is normal anyway?

In the confines of the infamous patient room she never felt more scared in her life. But here, out in the open, she feels so safe. As if she’s had a silent agreement with nature, which vouched to protect her at all costs.

And this time, nature had an ally. Because Ethan will protect her, even if it’s the last thing he does. Holding onto each other, they stand in the nothingness.

It keeps them grounded. Connected to their roots. Turning over new leaves. Bending before they break. Growing.

They get lost. Mother Nature has a reward for those who do. They have a chance to find themselves. Over and over again.

~~~

If you made it this far - thank you & you're awesome 🥰

Tag list: @genevievemd @gryffindordaughterofathena @terrm9@starrystarrytrouble @the-pale-goddess @jamespotterthefirst @lisha1valecha @writer-ish @maurine07 @drakewalkerfantasy@iemcpbchoices @liaromancewriter @lem-20 @lucy-268 @oldminniemcg @queencarb @qrkowna @mercury84choices @lsvdw-blog @utterlyinevitable @stygianflood @udishaman @romewritingshop @romereadingshop @alina-yol-ramsey @stateofgracious @xxsugarplumfluffsxx @binny1985 @tsrookie @fayeswiftie @archxxronrookie @tinkertailorsoldierspy @schnitzelbutterfingers @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @theinvisibledreamergirl @custaroonie @irisofpurple @chasingrobbie @ethandaddyramseyx @quixoticdreamer16 @coffeeheartaddict @takemyopenheart @aworldoffandoms @potionsprefect @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

#open heart #Ethan Ramsey x mc #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week #mental health awareness

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obae-me · 4 years

Text

Sweet and Sour Demons

Note: Thank you for 400 followers! It means so much to me that so many people appreciate what I do and write, and I’m excited to keep improving! So as a thank you, I wrote this little piece with some added visuals!

Disclaimer: I made these creations on Picrew, and I wanted to make sure I give proper credit, so, here’s all the places you can find this wonderful artist! Go support their work and make some cute chibis!

Picrew

Their Twitter

Their Website

You had no idea why you made these things. At first, it seemed like a great idea, you had sat there in a hallway at RAD, waiting just outside the door of the Student Council room. They were all having a meeting, which, of course, you weren’t allowed to attend. However, you were also barred from going anywhere by yourself, so here you were, waiting like a dog on a leash. It was, to say the least, absolutely mind-numbingly boring. You had scrolled and double-scrolled through everything on your phone, you had given up trying to read-you just weren’t in the right headspace- and even the occasional entertaining shouts and exclamations from the brothers had died down. So, you resorted to random websites, and in one, you did something you never should’ve done.

You created cute and heart-squeezingly adorable stickers of the brothers you knew so well. You knew the consequences, you had been there for the texting ban which came after those stickers were created of Lucifer and Diavolo. The house had been in chaos, and yet you made these anyway. You couldn’t help it! You were bored and your creativity and curiosity was begging you to see what they would all look like as kawaii dessert chibis. Plus, after you had made them, it had brought enough warmth in your heart to let you survive a harsh winter using nothing but your body heat.

You knew the trouble it would bring, you knew the moral consequences, so you had planned on not showing them to anybody. They’d just be your secret and yours alone, never to be shown to the world. The D.D.D. you possessed just skyrocketed in value.

Plans and secrets were hard to keep in the Devildom, especially for you, and despite what you had prepared for, you weren’t prepared for the meeting to end early. Today of all days. Right while you were giggling and hugging your phone to your chest, the doors swung wide open, each of the brothers catching you in the act.

Mammon sped past you like a whirlwind, a simple blur of white and gold. The phone was gone. Your phone was taken! Still left on the screen where all the little pictures were saved. Your heart almost stopped, that warmth snuffed out in seconds. Mammon just waved the phone around in his hand.

“What’s got you so giddy, eh? Who’re you talking to?” He frowned, the gold color of his eyes getting darker. “Since I’m so nice, I’ll let you tell me before I look.”

Before you could even open your mouth to respond, Beel came over and plucked the phone from him. “Mammon, it’s not nice to invade MC’s privacy.” You were saved!

At least until Asmo came and snatched those hopes and dreams away. “Aw, but I want to know! The drama, the intrigue, who can resist?” These brothers were playing hot potato with your phone. None of them had seen what was on it yet, for some reason all of them assumed you were talking to someone. It was only a matter of time before…

Levi rushed over to Asmo. “They’re talking to someone other than us?” His envy almost started dripping from his body. “I need to see who it is!”

Satan aggressively grabbed Asmo’s wrist and tore the phone away from his brothers. “Honestly, all of you are such children.”

A tail knocked the phone out from Satan’s grasp and into the air, landing perfectly in Belphie’s palms. He was in demon form, already enraged somehow. “Who…” was all he could mutter.

“Please, it’s no one!” You pleaded, surprised you could still breathe and say words at this point. What played out before you was like some cartoon. Was it possible to still salvage this?

The eldest brother, annoyed by his siblings’s antics, used his powers to magically move your phone into his gloved hands. He had a deep scowl on his face. “The next person to touch MC’s D.D.D. without their permission is going to have a special punishment.” He shook his head and looked into your eyes. “Here you go, MC.” There was such a thing as miracles after all! You couldn’t believe it. “I’m sorry abou-” Lucifer cut himself off short, his eyes had just briefly flickered over your phone screen. Had he really just tried to take a sneaky look after everything he just said?

Everything was in shambles. The phone that had almost been in your possession once again, just inches from your fingertips, was snapped away, plastered near Lucifer’s face as he looked upon your screen with an expression for the ages. Confusion. Slight amusement. Then bafflement. Now he was in his demon form.

“MC…” his voice was a rumbling sound, almost deep enough to make the floor shake. “What are these?” His brothers all looked intensely curious, but none of them even dared move.

“I wasn’t going to do anything with them, I swear! No sharing, no money, no nothing. I was just bored and...I thought they were cute?” You even questioned it yourself, your confidence wavering. Lucifer was silent...much too silent. You were prepared for anything, a lecture, your D.D.D. confiscated, even death.

His scowl turned into a smile, an evil smile. “I think it’s only fitting to share these with everyone else, right, MC? Once we get home, I want to see you in my study.” With a menacing glint in his eyes, he held his hand out to let his brothers, rabid with curiosity, claw their way at your phone to look at the contents.

Lucifer

Dessert: Chocolate-Covered Strawberries

Description: Despite their simplicity, this dessert is widely popular and renowned for its flavor. It doesn’t need to be overly flashy to be a prideful fan favorite. It’s not sickeningly sweet or rich like lots of other desserts. Its strong fruity tartness mixed with a sweet outer layer makes this the perfect dessert for the demon of Pride.

He’ll admit, he was shocked to his core when he saw the creation on your phone. He had felt deeply insulted that you would make him look like that. On the other hand, the fact that you had gone out of your way to make something in his likeness--no matter how disgustingly cute and humiliating it was--mixed with the look you had on your face when he opened the door left a feeling in him no human had stirred up in him before.

When you came into his study after the event, he saw you with your head hanging low, eyes sullen. He had to control himself to keep him from smiling. He only showed you a cold expression, crossing his legs in his chair behind his desk as he waved you over with one hand.

“Come here.”

His demand sent a shiver down your spine, and your face burnt up as you obeyed his order. You stood right next to his side, looking deep into his eyes as his glower burrowed into your skull. You noticed a box in his lap, red, covered in a single ribbon. Lucifer finally let his tart countenance fall, a smile on his face. He held your chin in his hand as he made you look at him. He stroked the lid of the package with one hand before gracefully opening it. Inside laid an assortment of chocolate covered strawberries, each pristine and neat. You blinked. It wasn’t nearly as terrifying as you thought the contents would be.

“What is…” you stammered, trying to look for words to express your confusion, but Lucifer’s thumb brushed over your bottom lip, making you lose your voice immediately, your face starting to almost share the shade of some of those strawberries.

“Your...punishment,” Lucifer explained. “Believe me, I had something else planned, but then I thought, if you helped make me look so cute in strawberries, how about I do the same thing to you?” Before even giving you a chance to catch your breath, he placed the box on his desk, reserving the space for you. With a hand around your wrist and the other on your waist, he pulled you into his lap, relishing your little gasps as you tried to get some air in your lungs.

Everything about him was making you squirm, his rich voice, the slight bobbing of his knee as you remained on his legs, his eyes flickering a deep crimson. To make things worse, he helped guide your hands behind your back, his hand big enough to reach around both your wrists. Your heart was racing a thousand miles a minute, your head going dizzy and light. One hand keeping you bound, the other one grasping one of the treats from the box, holding it tauntingly at your mouth. He brushed it across your lips, the look on his face telling you that what he was putting you through was sweeter to him than any dessert.

“Be a sweetheart and say Ahh.”

Mammon

Dessert: Lemon Tart

Description: A classy little pastry that’s a great mix of zesty citrus and sweet custard that sticks with you despite being surrounded by a flaky crust exterior. The bold flavor along with the gold and white motif makes this a good match for the greedy second-born.

As much as his brothers wanted to see him embarrassed, even he was surprised to feel...proud of the thing resembling him on your device. You made something of him. It may have been demeaning and overly cutesy, but you really took time out of your day to make something about him. Something that made you happy and that you appreciated. You didn’t make fun of him and tease him about it, you had planned on keeping it a secret for you to enjoy.

He dragged you away, both of you headed out of RAD, past stores and shops that he usually took you to, and instead headed into a popular Devildom bakery. Everyone in the shop swiveled around, and you couldn’t help but try to hide your face as Mammon shouted enough to be heard two stores over. He demanded the best lemon tart money could buy. Despite the other demons waiting, everyone hustled to get what Mammon needed. They knew who he was, and if he didn’t get what he wanted when he asked for it, there would be worse things to worry about.

“Mammon, slow down.” You were starting to get out of breath from all the running around he was doing, refusing to let your hand go. He had you and you couldn’t say otherwise. You realized the path you both were on now was heading back towards the House of Lamentation. As you slowed down due to exhaustion, his impatience kicked in, his wings spreading from his back as he swooped you off your feet, pressing his body deep into yours as he flew the rest of the way.

He didn’t stop moving till both of you were inside his room, slamming the door behind him. He crawled onto his bed with you still clinging to his neck, his knees by your side. You heard him undo the package the tart had come in. He made sure you watched as he bit into it, the crust crumbling, some of the custard lingering on his lips.

It was hard to stay focused, but you dropped one of your arms that was around his body, ready to grab a piece for yourself, but he stopped you, his irises glowing a dark gold behind his lids. He used his hand to direct your arm back to its place around him. His eyelashes fluttered as you instinctively latched onto his hair. His gaze had you so enamored, you didn’t notice his horns now sticking out of his head. He got in close, very close, close enough that your noses were almost touching and all you could smell was sweet citrus.

“Do you want to come try some?”

Levi

Dessert: Mochi Ice Cream

Description: A small round treat consisting of soft sticky pounded Mochi with cold and flavorful ice cream on the inside. It’s able to change color and flavors to adapt to people’s moods and preferences to make sure people like them. Perfect for the envious otaku.

He was used to seeing characters like those, but he never thought you would make him into one. He was equal parts embarrassed and envious. The way you looked at your phone like that over a fake digital character, the same way he often did. He could do that, but when you did it, it tied his insides in knots.

He still couldn’t get it out of his head, so later that night, he headed to your room, a bowl of treats in his hand. He would show you that, for once, the real thing was better than any 2D picture. When you opened the door, he stormed in, causing you to back up to keep him from bowling you over. He was in his demon form, his tail flipping back and forth. His face was flushed, but he was determined.

He backed you up to the bed, forcing you to sit down, still confused by the rush of actions happening in rapid succession. He looked down at you, his cheeks tinted pink, his tail brushing against the skin on your arm as it curled around your body, the scales as cold as ice.

He picked up a Mochi ball, placing it in his mouth, his orange eyes swimming with something other than envy. This was one of the only times he wasn’t shying away. He leaned close to you, preventing you from leaning back away from him with his tail pinning hard against your back. He pressed the soft ice cream against your lips, waiting for you to take it from him like one of his favorite Pocky games. You could feel the tip of his tail wagging against your shoulder blades, expectant.

You took the treat from him, puncturing through the mochi with your teeth only to feel the nerves of your mouth freeze as the ice cream came through. With one of his fingers, Levi helped pop the rest of the mochi in your mouth, a look of sweet satisfaction spread over his face. You shuddered, the ice cream and his cool scales sending a cold chill down your spine.

He wrapped you in his arms, the boldness melting away like the ice cream in your mouth as he leaned into your body to keep you warm.

“Don’t look at anything like that other than me.”

Satan

Dessert: Mint Brownie

Description: A hot and powerful tasting treat that not only has the bitter sensation of dark chocolate, but the strong and flavorful mint. An array of tastes under the simple and calm looking brown dessert matches the demon of wrath perfectly.

He was angry, which was the expected response. The way Lucifer and his other brothers teased his sticker form. It took a lot of control to not fight them off right then and there, destroying your D.D.D in the process, but he couldn’t stop looking at it. He was angry at you for making it, but also...he felt something else. He stormed away from the group, making his way home. You felt guilty, but decided to try to give him some time to cool off, but he had other plans.

He called you to meet him when he got home. As you approached his door, you couldn’t help but smell something sweet coming from his room. As you came inside, you smelt the strong scent of chocolate and mint. It filled your nose and overwhelmed your senses so much, you didn’t notice Satan standing right behind you. He wrapped you in his arms from behind, and you could feel his tail curling around your ankle.

“Here, have these.” He presented to you a plate with a single brownie on top of it, a thin layer of green frosting over the surface. They must’ve been fairly fresh since they still were giving off waves of heat. “I made them for you, since you think I’m so sweet.” You could feel his hot breath right near your ear as he curled his lips into a smile.

They were still so scorching, they almost burnt your fingers, but you picked a corner and shoved some in your mouth anyway. It was deliciously dark and minty, the temperature and flavor making your eyes water. The tail around your leg wound tighter as one of Satan’s hands came to brush away your tears. His boa around his neck tickled your skin, giving you goosebumps.

“Satan?” You swayed, overwhelmed by the heat coming from the pastry and Satan’s body, you were unable to tell which one was burning you more right now. He held you tight, keeping you planted in place. He used the fingers that had touched your face to pick up the rest of the brownie on the dish. He brought it up to you, and while you couldn’t see his face, you could feel his eyes staring you down.

“Go on, they taste best when they’re this hot, trust me.”

Asmo

Dessert: Cupcakes

Description: Undeniably sweet in every sense of the word. Soft cake, fluffy icing, not to mention you can use whatever filling or toppings you want. You can dress it up and make this dessert as fashionable as you please, the flawless comparison to flashy fifth-born demon.

He thought it was adorable. He was flattered you’d made sure to make him look as amazing as possible. He was sickeningly sweet, but something about the way you looked at your phone made his heart flutter. He had a plan. He was going to do a comparison, and you would be none the wiser.

Already he had everything prepared by the time you got home. He hunted you down and dragged you to his room, not giving you a chance to say no. As you entered, everything hit you at once. He had a plate of cupcakes on his nightstand, white cake with pink frosting. Asmo was almost glowing as he came over to get you one. You looked him up and down, noticing he had changed his clothes to make himself resemble the treat he gave you. A pink top, white bottoms, he even wore a pearl necklace and matching bracelets to resemble the pearly beads on top of the frosting.

“Asmo…” You hesitated, knowing he was up to something, just not quite sure what yet. Or even if you did have an inkling of what he wanted, it still left you breathless. He just looked at you with begging eyes, and you sighed figuring there was nothing wrong with eating a cupcake.

You peeled the paper off the base slowly and watched as Asmo blushed, getting closer to your body. You raised a quizzical eyebrow at him as you opened your mouth to get a good bite of the dessert, making a happy little noise when you tasted how delicious it was.

“Yay, yay, my turn!” He came over quickly, making you back up against his bedroom door as he stared you straight in the eyes as he took a bite of the cake in your hands. He took a finger and curled it around your hair. Your face turned bright red. “Lets keep going, I don’t like to waste things.” You kept taking turns biting your own end of the cupcake, watching it get smaller and smaller as your mouths were getting tauntingly close. When there seemed to be only one bite left, he made a little whine. “Aw it’s your turn, you win.” He let you take the last bite, some of the frosting depositing itself on your lips.

Asmo let you press your back deeper into his door as he got even closer, his lids heavy. His wings and horns now exposed as his lips got closer to yours.

“Time for me to check which one is sweeter.”

Beel

Dessert: Pancakes

Description: Not your typical form of dessert, but with its fluffy texture and satisfying nature, it’s capable of being a good meal for any part of the day. With stacks upon stacks, it’s a great match for the demon of gluttony.

Just seeing how you dressed up his little likeness made him hungry. He wanted to eat everything he saw, in fact, it was a miracle he hadn’t eaten your D.D.D. when he had it in his possession. All he could think about was making something like that with you. You made everything taste so much better, if he could let you finish making it anyway.

He dragged you to the kitchen once the two of you got home. There was a little spring in his step, being the happiest he had been in a long time as he watched you mix the batter. You had to order him to stay put to make sure he didn’t eat it before it could even get in the pan. He watched you move around the kitchen, and you could’ve sworn you watched him almost drool as he looked you dead in the eyes, not even at the stove.

It was almost like art the way you placed the pancakes on his plate, and as you turned around to get yours, he had already downed his in a single breath. You figured he’d do something like this, but you weren’t ready for him to watch you eat, him licking his lips every time you opened your mouth.

“Beel, do you want these?” You slid your plate towards him, only having taken a few bites of the syrupy cake.

“No, I want you to eat.” He slid his own chair around the table to be seated right next to you, legs touching. His response left you stunned, your mouth just slightly ajar in your shock. His gaze turned bright, snatching your fork away from you. “Ah so you want me to feed you, I can do that.”

Your little cry of a protest was muffled as he placed the fluffy pancake in your mouth. Some of the syrup escaped down your chin and he wiped it up with his forefinger before licking it clean. He hummed to himself in glee.

“So delicious.”

Belphie

Dessert: Hot Chocolate

Description: A hot beverage consisting of sweet chocolate and creamy milk. It leaves you feeling warm and cozy after drinking it, coaxing you to take a nap. It’s simple to whip up and quick to make, an easy comparison for the demon of sloth.

He wasn’t sure which one had left him more irritated, the fact that he thought you were messaging someone that left you giggling, or the fact that a digital image of him was. Either way left him exhausted, but restless. However, he wasn’t someone to let something go. He always felt like he had to get even. He wouldn't be able to get any sort of sleep till he ensured you looked as cute to him in real life as you made him on your phone.

So, when you came back home from RAD that evening, he was already waiting for you. How he had gotten there faster than you was a mystery. He was laying on the steps, still in demon form, clutching his pillow in his hands. As soon as he saw you, he was up faster than you had ever seen him move. With a twitchy tail, he grasped your arm and dragged you to the attic, the place he always seemed to take you when he wanted to be alone with you.

“Belphie, what’re you?”

He pointed to the bed, glaring pins and needles at you. He wordlessly watched you sit on the bed in confusion. You glanced to a small table and noticed that there was one mug on it, steam emanating from the top, the smell of sweet chocolate drifting through the air. He strided over to the mug, picking it up in his hands before doing something you weren’t ready for.

He came over, placing himself in your lap, knees pinned to your sides, towering over you as he pressed the warm mug to your face. You immediately flushed, and you watched his top lip twitch as he prevented himself from smiling.

“Too hot?” He droned. He brought the cup to his lips to gently blow at the drink to make it ‘cooler’ for you. It didn’t stop you from burning up. His tail came up to brush against your cheek as he let the ceramic touch your lips. “Well?”

You parted your lips to let the sweet liquid fill your body, the milky chocolate making you warm. The sight of Belphie staring you down, his tail patting your head as the smirk he had tried hard to contain finally revealed itself. He didn’t stop until every drop was gone, and then he put the drink to the side, using his sleeve to wipe away remnants around your mouth.

“We’re not close to being even yet.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie

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eryiss · 3 years

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Summary: Forced to be sociable by his so called friends, Laxus finds himself attending a five week cooking class. An insulting and stupid idea, and one he resents them for doing. He would have thrown it in their faces, if it weren’t for the smug prick teaching the class, with his handsome face, delectable body, and annoyingly enticing way of keeping Laxus on his toes. [Fraxus One Shot]

Notes: Hi. I wrote this on my phone while sitting on the beach, so who knows how it’ll turn out. But it’s got them both being cocky, both being flirty, and both being in love, so what else could you want. Hope you all enjoy it.

Links: FFN, Ao3

Set To Boil

Or: 4 Times Freed taught Laxus a recipe, & 1 time Laxus returned the favour

Week One - Pizza

"Laxus, you need to get out more."

"Laxus, there's no reason for you not to give it a try."

"Laxus, you're an antisocial brat and you need to get out more."

Fuck them all. Fuck Evergreen for her haughty sense of self belief. Fuck Bickslow for having no tact and being and coming up with good points. Fuck Makarov in particular, for being a rude old coot who threatened to change the damn lock. And when Laxus found out which of the interfering bastards had been the one to come up with this stupid idea, then fuck them too.

It was ridiculous. Yes, perhaps Laxus had become somewhat insular as of late. Maybe his friends had been putting in more effort than him as of late, but it was important. He was newly hired in his sports journalism career, and he needed to focus on his writing.

What he did not need was a five week cooking course!

Why the hell did cooking courses even exist anymore? If you wanted to learn to cook, there was this brilliant new invention called a computer. They had hundreds of step by step recipes, none of which required Laxus to trudge through a damn rec-centre at eight at night!

Seriously, fuck them all.

He was late, too. The bus had missed his stop, and as such he was now ten damn minutes late. He was half-tempted to leave the rec-centre before he found his classroom - Ever, Bicks and Makarov wouldn't find out if he didn't use the damn voucher, after all - but then he would have to spend the next five weeks thinking of ways to pass the time every Thursday night. He really needed to move out of Makarov's damn apartment; the old bastard apparently had nothing better to do than to keep tabs on him. Bastard.

He was in front of the classroom door before he knew it, and he faulted. Dammit, why had he agreed to do this? Why couldn't the bus have gotten him there on time? Why was he nervous about this?

No; he was a grown man dammit. Fuck his nerves,

With false confidence, he walked into the classroom. Eight benches, all with sinks, ovens, cooktops, an array of cutlery and equipment, and a basket of ingredients filled the space. Five people stood behind some of the benches, and Laxus somewhat guilty slinked towards the nearest bench, at the back of the classroom.

"Mr Dreyar, I presume," A voice, deliciously smooth with underlying authority, made Laxus pause.

He looked up to see a man standing at the front of the room, behind a larger and more professional looking cooking worktop, and Laxus paused. If you were to encapsulate all of Laxus' ideal qualities in a man, his new teacher was apparently as close a person could come. Tall, obviously with some muscle, tight and sharp facial features, a little pale, and with long hair. He wore a button up shirt that hugged his form, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing off a near-indecent amount of his forearms. He was quirking his eyebrow towards Laxus, and he felt ensnared by the expression.

Dammit, of course. Almost every other cooking class in the country would inevitable be taught by a homely housewife or a tedious Ramsay wannabe, but not his. He gets a stud with veiny forearms, high cheekbones, and narrowed eyes that made Laxus shiver.

He couldn't justify it, but Laxus was inclined to blame his grandfather for that.

"There's a bench up here, if you'd like to take it," The teacher said, motioning towards one of the cooking stations at the front of the room. Laxus cringed; even in school, he'd been one of the kids who sat at the back. That wasn't a habit he was ready to lose.

"I'd rather stay here, if it's all the same to you," Laxus mumbled, annoyed at himself for not speaking clearly. There was something about teachers that just… what did you call someone who intimidated you but also kind of excited you at the same time?

God, this was going to be awful.

"And I prefer it if my students arrived to my lessons on time," The teacher smirked a little, and Laxus almost stuttered in search of a reply. "And, as tends to happen with a student who shows up late on the first day, you'll likely act out further. As such, I want you close by so I can keep you on the straight and narrow," He tapped his finger on the surface twice. "This counter, please."

Though only a few steps, the walk to the counter at the front of the room was humiliating, it served to make the asshole teacher appear less hot, if nothing else. Because Laxus definitely did not like a man who knew how to be firm with him.

This was going to be hell, wasn't it?

At his assigned counter, Laxus felt a little lost. Nestled in the ingredients was a recipie - they were making pizza, apparently - and Laxus slightly found himself floundering. The cooking lessons weren't just to make him more sociable; he had no idea how to cook.

The teacher, who was looking at him from behind his work surface, sighed and approached Laxus. In his hand, he held a chopping board with what appeared to be a large mound of dough. He placed it before Laxus, who drowned down at it.

"Normally I would have taught you how to make dough yourself, but my plan's require the full hour," The teacher said, as if that was an explanation. "Rather than you lagging behind and not getting the whole experience, you should start from the same point everyone else is at. So put yourself to work and start to kneed this. It'll require a few more minutes to get to the right consistency."

Laxus looked down at the dough, grinding his teeth. Kneeding was rubbing it, right? And occasionally you punch it? That didn't sound right.

"Like this," The teacher said, pulling the chopping board towards him. He started to kneed the dough - it wasn't what Laxus thought it was - and the attraction came back with a sudden force. God dammit, why did his sleeves have to hug his biceps like that? That just wasn't fair.

The dough was pushed towards him again, and Laxus rolled up his sleeves and started to emulate what the teacher had done. The teacher didn't leave, and Laxus squirmed a little under, and found himself speaking to fill the silence.

"I ain't gonna learn, y'know," His mouth said before his brain could intercept. "Don't give a shit about cooking."

That a'boy Laxus. Turn up late, fail at a basic thing, and insult the guy's career. Real classy.

"You will." The teacher said, as if it were undeniable.

"I will?" Laxus scoffed.

"You will," The teacher repeated, smirking, "Once you realise what a good home cooked meal taste like, you'll be desperate to learn what else you can do."

"You seem awfully confident about that…" He drifted off; he didn't even know the damn guys name,

"Freed," The teacher supplied. "And I am confident. You'll love cooking by the end of it. I'm sure."

"You talk a big game," Laxus chuckled a little. He almost forgot he was kneeding the dough, but Freed looked down at his hands and grinned a little, which got Laxus to pause. Just because he was kneeding dough it didn't mean he cared; it was basically a workout. That was all, and Freed needed to know that. "If you're that sure, then I'm gonna insist you eat everything I make, no matter how shitty it turns out to be."

"So long as you don't sabotage yourself on purpose, I can agree to that."

Well, Laxus had slightly wanted to make Freed eat combinations of food that tasted like crap, but this could work. Laxus really was that bad of a cook, Freed might not be able to know the difference.

"Deal," Laxus nodded, offering Freed a hand to shake. The chef did so immediately, with a firm squeeze and… oh damn, those veins!

——

Week Two - Curry

Laxus had been right. Even putting in the effort and following the recipie as best he could, he was still a shitty cook. Unless, of course, a curry was meant to be accompanied by a waft of dark, burning smoke when you opened up the oven. Laxus coughed a little as he removed the dish from the oven, placing it on the counter top while shutting the oven door with his foot,

Freed was storming over immediately, flapping at the smoke with a dish towel and immediately turnoff the extractor fan on to suck up the smoke before it reached the detector. He had previously been working with a pink haired bastard, who was snickering at Laxus' failure. Asshole.

"What on earth did you do to it?" Freed demanded, more confused than angry.

"I followed her recipe," Laxus retorted indignantly. "Can't blame me."

"Everyone else has the same recipe and they've managed fine," Freed muttered under his breath. "Explain to me what happened."

Laxus bit down the instinct to tell Freed to choke on something, patronising ass that he was. He had made a deal with Freed the week prior that he would do what he could to make the most of the lessons, and he would enjoy knowing how to make a few meals, so admitting his mistakes was something that he would have to do. Even if it was to a smug, ego-centred teacher who Laxus could definitely take in a fight without breaking a sweat,

Maybe he should suggest some boxing lessons. Laxus had given up pro fighting the year before, but kept it up for fun. If Freed was acting like Laxus was stupid for not knowing the basics of cooking, Laxus would act like Freed was stupid when he didn't understand how to box.

Fantasising about punching Freed in the stomach - which was no doubt toned and sexy as hell - made talking through the process easier. Freed wore a slight frown, apparently not seeing anything wrong with what he had done. Laxus was about to boast that he was right, and that it was Freed's instructions that had gotten the burned pile of mush that filled the room with smoke, but Freed's expression turned to one of understanding when he looked at the oven,

"These work on Celsius, you set it as though you were using Fahrenheit," Freed explained. "You essentially nuked it."

Fuck. God-fucking-dammit!

He could have dealt with it if he was unable to do some cooking thing he'd never had to use before. But this? Misreading a piece of paper and setting the wrong temperature on the damn oven, how the hell had he managed to do that? It was humiliating! He was a grown ass adult, a retired sportsman who was forging a career to be respected. But an oven had made him look like an idiot who couldn't do anything for himself. Fucking brilliant.

With clenched fists, he rested against the workbench and leant on it with closed eyes. This was why he didn't do shit like this; he needed to keep in his lane and do what he was good at. Not cook, not have this weird hate-boner for his teacher. None of this.

"How soon after the class do you need to leave?" Freed asked, cutting through Laxus' spiralling thoughts. He frowned, but answered.

"Don't have any plans after."

"If we start again, we can have you finished ten minutes after class. That way it won't be an act of futility," Freed said, and rolled his damn sleeves up again. Thankfully he was moving around the counter, turning the oven down and fiddling with appliances fast enough to stop Laxus' eyes from lingering. "I can teach you how to spice things to your own tastes, as well. Normally that's next week, but I can advance you for your troubles."

"Advance me?" Laxus frowned. "Kinda need to be good at the basics first."

"You are, everything you said was correct. You made a small mistake that I should have noticed," Freed shrugged, walking to the counter he taught from and taking a box of ingredients to place on Laxus' desk. "I thought you'd learn better left to your own devices, and while I expect that was true, I shouldn't have left you alone. That was my mistake and as such, I'll amend it. We'll make a curry suited towards your tastes."

This was an olive branch, Laxus was sure of it. Freed had apparently noticed Laxus' shift of mood, and took the blame for Laxus' mistake. He was thankful of it, but it was still embarrassing.

Thankfully, a way of saving face had presented itself.

"I don't know if I can believe ya," He said with a small, somewhat forced smirk. "I mean, you don't have a record for keeping promises, do ya?"

"Don't I?"

"You told me you'd eat some of everything I made," Laxus shrugged, looking towards his pot of 'curry' that lay stagnant in the pot. It was grey, somehow. Food shouldn't be grey. "That was a lie."

Freed sighed, but didn't back down. He pulled a dessert spoon from one of the drawers, carefully scooped up some of the ruined mush and brought it towards his lips; damn they were pretty. He openly winced at the smell, swallowing preemptively as it got closer to his mouth. He glanced towards Laxus for a split second, who was watching him with crossed arms expectantly, and let out a resigned sigh. He opened his mouth, took in the spoon, then ate.

First he gagged, then he coughed, then he struggled to swallow. Even though Laxus had worked hard, and a small part of him thought Freed was exaggerating, he laughed at the reaction. Freed was fighting to keep the burned, disgusting food down. Once completely swallowed, he turned to Laxus with a wince.

"Delicious," He lied, trying to hide how thoroughly unhappy he was.

"If that's the case, there's plenty more," Laxus smirked, and Freed actually winced. That, of course, spurred Laxus on further. This was more fun than cooking. "Eat up, I don't mind."

Freed seemed to think for a moment, before standing up straight, rolling his back, and doing something Laxus never would have expected. He pulled out a plate and a ladle, scooped a portion large enough to fill two fully grown adults would struggle to finish no matter what the taste, and placed it on the countertop as if it was something to be proud of.

"A deal," Freed proposed. "I want to teach you one on one for the rest of the session. No distractions, no changing the subject, simply me telling you how to cook. Essentially, until you've cooked something successfully, I want your full attention."

Laxus nearly scoffed, Freed already had that. Instead, he said: "What's my 'delicious' curry got to do with that."

"If you make an attempt to distract me, to get out of lessons in some way, or continue with the mindset that this course is not suited to you, then for the rest of your time learning under me, you'll stay after class and clean everyone's dishes until I'm satisfied with the result."

Laxus winced a little. "And if I don't do any of that."

"I'll eat all of this," He motioned to the plate of ruined food. "And you may watch me do it."

Thinking for a moment, Laxus grinned. "Your funeral," He then glances at the food and winced. "Possibly literally."

Freed waved off the comment, stood beside Laxus with his new range of ingredients, and began explaining the basics of how to get a flavour you desired from your ingredients. On instinct Laxus wanted to taunt the man, suggesting the best way to get a flavour was with a take-out menu, but he managed to stop himself before the words slipped out. Mainly it was to avoid four weeks of dish washing, but also because he hasn't seen Freed like this. He was passionate when he spoke about cooking, and Laxus didn't want to ruin that.

And when Freed's arm slid against Laxus' as they moved, somehow at the same moment Freed looked at him with a genuine smile, Laxus felt shivers roll over him. This was… there were worse ways to spend a Thursday evening.

——

Week Three - Chicken Soup

"Y'know, if you're gonna make such a big deal about-" Laxus cut himself off. Holy shit.

He had been ready to blast into Freed about puntuality. Laxus had gotten to the class on time, only to see that Freed was not there. Eight minutes into the lesson, the door had opened, and Laxus was fully intending to lambast Freed about how much of a big deal it was when Laxus was late, and yet Freed was just as bad. He only stopped when he saw the state Freed was in. Because dammit, the man was drenched to the bone.

What the hell had happened to him? Sure it was raining, but Laxus knew he had a car, and surely the walk from the parking lot to the building hadn't been that bad. He looked like he'd gotten into a fight with a lake and lost.

"Everyone to your work stations please," Freed instructed, removing his coat as he walked to the front of the class. "I apologise for being late, but it shouldn't be too much of an imposition if we all focus."

Laxus was focusing. Focusing on the fact Freed's white shirt was clinging to his chest, showing off strong pecs and the taunting glimpse of a six-pack. It was a temp tight sight, and far too indecent for a classroom setting.

He shook his thoughts away. He needed to focus, because last week's lesson had proved a lot of things. One: Freed was willing to eat a whole plate full of disgusting food to prove a point, which wasn't relevant but Laxus still thought funny to think about him gagging and going green. Two: Freed was actually a damn good teacher, he just apparently hadn't know what Laxus needed from him until the latter half of the class. Three: Laxus actually could cook, if taught well. Because the second curry he'd made was indescribable, and it had tasted just as good when Laxus had cooked it two nights prior.

So, the lessons were actually working, and Laxus decided he was going to fully allow himself to be a student. Groping the teacher with his eyes wasn't going to help that, so Laxus remained quiet and let Freed explain the lesson.

To learn how to flavour things correct, they would all be making a series of different soups throughout the hour. Five basic recipes has been placed on their workspaces, and an entire array of spices, ingredients and flavourings had been scattered through the room. The point of the exercise was to follow the recipes, but also put other ingredients into their soups while doing it so that they can experiment with flavours. It was pretty smart, and Laxus felt like he had an advantage given Freed's impromptu lesson with spices the week before.

Once Freed stopped talking, they began cooking, and Laxus felt oddly confident in himself.

About ten minutes into the exercise, Freed made his way to Laxus' workstation. Wordlessly, he picked up a plastic ladle and scooped out a small amount of the soup Laxus had cooking. Laxus watched with only a small amount of anticipation as Freed brought the soup to his lips and swallowed it, and didn't focus on the flipping of his stomach as Freed smiled at him.

"It's very good," he praised, and Laxus did not preen at the words.

"Thanks," He muttered instead. "Any advice?"

Freed smiled a little at the request, placing the ladle in the small sink. "I'd use sea salt from now on, it'll bring out the flavour of the chicken more. But your instincts have served you well, it works very well together."

"Oh, thanks," Laxus mumbled awkwardly, and Freed didn't help by leaning over the table to look at Laxus' recipe, bring their faces far too close. Thank god the heat of the room has fixed the slight transparency of Freed's shirt, because knowing about the body below the clothes was tempting enough with him this close. If he could see the man's body, he might explode.

"You've put everything you've added onto this, haven't you?" Freed asked, tapping the recipe that had Laxus notes covering it. Laxus nodded weakly. "Then, if you can recreate it as it is now,I then it's time to experiment. Pick something at random to add and see what it tastes like. If it's bad, remake what you've already done."

"Anything huh?" Laxus quirked a brow. "You know you have to eat it, right? You wanna give me this much freedom after last week?"

"So long as you choose your ingredients thinking it will taste good, I'll uphold my agreement," Freed shrugged. "Though I must admit, I'd prefer not to spend the night with stomach cramps and a bucket beside my bed again, if avoidable."

Laxus barked out a laugh. "Kinda thought I'd killed ya when you didn't show up on time. What happened?"

"My car's broken down," Freed explained, looking over the herbs Laxus had added. "It took longer to get here than I expected."

"You walked in this?" Laxus glanced towards the heavy rainfall beating down on the windows.

"Indeed," Freed nodded. "Not my smartest decision."

Laxus winced a little at a roll of thunder exploded outside, apparently trying to make sure Freed knew just how stupid his decision had been. Freed didn't seem too bothered by it, though, and instead walked towards the old woman who worked behind Laxus, tasting her version of tomato soup and giving her advice on how to give it an extra kick.

The rest of the lesson continued on like that. Freed would work his way around the room, helping where he could. Laxus experimented on his soup, finding parmasean to be the missing ingredient.

Freed actually licked his damn lips after trying that. Did he know what he was doing to Laxus?

Once the lesson was over, the storm still lighting up the sky, Laxus walked to the door of the rec-centre. Freed was lingering there, wrapped up in a large red coat and clearly not looking forward to his walk home. Laxus understood that; the rain was so hard it probably would hurt to be under it.

"I'll drive ya home," Laxus said, his tone not leaving room to argue.

"What?" Freed asked. "No, that's not-"

"Didn't give you a choice, did I?" Laxus crossed his arms.

"You intend to kidnap me?" Freed joked.

"Yeah," Laxus nodded. "If you walk out in that, you're gonna get sick for no reason other than your own stubbornness. If that happens, the. Eat I can do for you is give you the recipe for this," he patted the container of chicken soup he held, "but I kinda think driving you might make more sense."

Freed considerd before speaking. "I insist on paying for gas, at least."

"Course you will, I ain't a cheap date."

The words came before Laxus could stop himself, and a flush of worry spread through him. Freed simply laughed, murmured a teasing "I expect not," and walked towards the door. He held it open for Laxus to walk through, and with a small grin, Laxus did so, with Freed by his side.

When the rain hit them, Laxus didn't care, and it certainly didn't diminish the silly smile that he hoped Freed couldn't see.

——

Week Four - Meringues

"What are you looking at, Laxus?"

Freed seemed amused as he spoke, and he walked towards Laxus' working area. Laxus had been trying to catch his teacher's eye for around a minute, with probably a stupid little grin on his face. He couldn't find it in himself to be embarrassed about being caught out.

The drive home with Freed has been a long one - thirty minutes in the car; how long would it have been if he'd walked! - and they'd talked throughout. Laxus had learned that, until recently, Freed had been a professional chef for the TV show 'Sabertooth Chefs', a cooking competition watched by millions. He was off camera, making the meals that the celebrity judges claimed they had cooked to use as an example for their contestants. Apparently he quit because of a lack of passion.

That, and apparently Rufus Lore - the judge he cooked for - was obnoxious and could barely bake a loaf of bread if left on his own.

Laxus spoke about his own life. How he'd felt obligated to quit his pro-boxing career after a nasty head wound that resulted in his scar. How he was now a freelance writer who did sports analysis for some of the sports magazines and websites. Freed had seemed impressed, and claimed he'd watch out for his work.

They were closer now, and as such Laxus felt comfortable joking with him.

"I've got a question," he said when Freed was close. "You said you'd taste everything I cook, right? Well, for food, tasting something means you're experiencing it, right?"

"I suppose," Freed agreed, though seemed to know he was walking into a trap.

"Well, with meringues, you showed us that trick, right," Laxus smirked. "Where if you've made it correctly, you can turn the bowl over and the mixture won't fall out."

"Yes," Freed was wary now.

"Well, you also said for the best experience," he put emphasis on the word, "then you tip it up over your head. If you've done it right, it stays in the bowl. If you ain't, it covers ya."

"I did say that," Freed muttered.

"Well, if you're gonna experience everything I make, surely you should do it." He smirked; and pushed the bowel of mixture towards him.

Freed looked down, resignedly.

Then he perked up and reached into his pocket, pulling out a coin. He flipped it with flair and caught it, covering it before either of them could see the result.

"Heads or tails?" He requested, and Laxus chuckled.

"Heads."

Freed removed his hand, and Laxus let out a cry of triumph. He nudged the bowel towards Freed, grinning wide and ridiculous as Freed openly sighed. Laxus crossed his arms to hurry the man up, and it seemed to work.

With quick, resigned movements, Freed lifted the bowel. The thick white mixture jiggled slightly, and Freed turned it upside down above his head before he could stop himself.

And… it stayed in place.

For a moment, Freed seemed to be wincing in anticipation, before a look of triumph flooded onto his face. He turned the bowel back over and placed it on the counter.

"Kinda anticlimactic," Laxus said, picking up a spoon.

"But it means you did it correctly," Freed smiled. "You can take solace in that."

"Guess so," Laxus nodded. "Or I could do this."

With neither showmanship nor hesitation, Laxus used the spoon so scoop a dollop of the mixture up and flicked it towards Freed's face. For a moment, all Freed could do was blink, and Laxus burst into stifled laughter.

It had splattered over his lips, nose, and left cheek. Equal parts ridiculous and oddly attractive.

"Mister Dreyar," Freed spoke calmly, but he was trying to hide a smile. "I will be seeing you after class."

He turned away. Laxus snickered.

Although it was tempting to be a dick for the rest of the lesson, Laxus behaved himself. This was the only lesson that they did on desserts, and Laxus wanted to learn. That, and he felt Freed wasn't going to take his little prank lying down, so he probably shouldn't piss him off further.

When everyone else was gone, and Laxus was left alone with Freed, there was a moment of quiet. He motioned for Laxus to approach the desk. Laxus did so.

He was hit in the face by a spurt of ketchup.

It continued, splattering across his face. He gasped, and Freed apparently aimed for his mouth at the moment. It was a stupid moment, not helped by the noise the bottle was making, and eventually the spray died out.

Neither man spoke for a moment.

They both started laughing at the same time, and Freed handed Laxus a napkin to clean himself with.

"You're an asshole, you know that right?" Laxus said with mirth in his voice. "You still got the balls to want a ride from me again?"

"Is the offer still available?" Freed chuckled.

"Sure, just as long as you don't mind me getting some glue and those decorative feather things from a store on the way back," Laxus smirked. "There's a smug asshole who needs to be tarred and fathered."

"Perhaps I'll get the bus," Freed grinned, then frowned a little. Perhaps without thinking, he reached up and stroked Laxus' cheek to rid it of a remaking fleck of sauce.

They both halted, frozen for a moment, and Laxus' mind was set alight. In that moment he knew one thing for sure; he couldn't let Freed go.

——

Week Five - Solyanka

"That will be all for our time together," Freed said, standing at the front of the class. "I hope you all enjoyed your time together, and that you've all learned something. At the risk of promoting myself, I have other courses available that last longer and offer more flexibility with what you'll cook, if you want to further your culinary pursuits. If not, then it was a pleasure working with you all, and I wish you well in your endeavours."

It was weird seeing Freed using his teaching voice; the things he said weren't Freed-like. It was kind of funny.

Laxus hung back when the rest of the class funnelled out. Some of them spoke to Freed before leaving, orbits just left, but Laxus decided to hang back and wait. As he did, he pulled out a small plastic tub from a bag he'd brought with him, waiting for Freed to take note. Once everyone was gone, Freed saw him still standing at the end of his cooking surface.

"Laxus," He said, and he seemed pleased Laxus was still there. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, just wasn't ready to leave yet," Laxus passed it off as a joke, but the stopped himself. "I, Erm, well, there's this recipe my family's been making for years. Generations, actually. Just wanted to know what you think."

"You want me to critique a family recipe?" Freed frowned.

No. No he didn't. He wanted to share something with Freed that was important to Freed. It was ridiculous to think, but this old Russian dish was something he had loved for his life, and he wanted Freed to love it too. It seemed stupid now he was thinking about it, but they only really had food in common right now, and Laxus felt like it was his turn to add something to the conversation.

"It's called Solyanka," Laxus said instead of answering the question. "It's a soup. For sausages, olives, cabbage. A lot of things, really."

Laxus didn't say anything else, and picked out a pot from the cupboards to place on the stove. He emptied the contents of the container into the pot and stated to bear it up.

"It tastes better when it's not been reheated but-"

"It smells beautiful," Freed said, cutting through Laxus' backtracking. "And I'm sure it will taste just as good."

"Thanks," Laxus mumbled a little.

As they waited for the soup to heat, there was a comfortable quiet between them both. Freed seemed engrossed in the cooking - the growing scent, the occasional stirring - and it gave Laxus the chance to watch him. He had known Freed was hot from the moment he'd seen him, but he was also fucking beautiful. His hair was pulled out and flowing over his shoulders, and his expression was calm and relaxed.

Laxus was glad he had done this, suddenly. He would have regretted it. This couldn't be the end of his relationship with Freed; it just couldn't.

He went to speak, but Freed went first.

"I think it's time to take it off the heat," He said gently, as if wanting to avoid offending Laxus by telling him how to cook his meal. Laxus quickly removed the pot from the heat.

With now familiar movements, Laxus pulled out two bowls and poured them both a portion. Laxus sat on one of the stools, waiting a little nervously as he saw Freed spoon some of the soup up and take it into his mouth.

"Wow," Freed whispered. "It's incredible."

Pride bloomed inside Laxus, and he didn't tamper it down. This piece of Laxus had pleased Freed. It had made Freed smile such a brilliant smile that it was like a shot to the heart. He was speechless, and Freed spoke again.

"You're incredible, Laxus," he said with equal sincerity.

"What?" Laxus frowned slightly.

"You're incredible, Laxus," Freed repeated, smiling now. "You've made these five weeks remarkably fun for me, and I'm sad to see you go."

"I'm sad to be going," Laxus mumbled, unused to speaking honestly about these kinds of things. "These have been… the best part of my week."

"Mine too," Freed admitted, and the words sent lighting throughout him.

There had been a small part of Laxus that had thought it had been in his head. He felt like he and Freed had been steadily growing closer and closer, in a way that couldn't exactly be called platonic. It felt like this was the moment where a choice had to be made. Laxus could either hide from his feelings, as he had often done in his life, or he could take the dive. Just like he'd done when he had quit his job. Just like he'd done when he'd come to the class in the first place. Just like he should have been doing all his life.

Freed was going to speak, but the urge to act overtook Laxus and he moved before it could dwindle. He launched himself toward, took Freed by the back of the neck, and kissed him.

It wasn't perfect, but the imperfection made it better.

The feeling of the desk jutting into his hip might have been a bother, but it was nothing compared the the brilliance of soft lips moving against his own.

The lingering spice on Freed's tongue could have been a distraction, but it only added to the searing sensation flying through him.

The scent of Laxus' Solyanka might have drawn focus, but instead it nudged with Freed's cologne and created a beautiful feeling of mingled familiarity and uniqueness.

This was the type of kiss that was unforgettable.

Freed's hand was grazing the back of Laxus' neck, scratching at the usually untouched skin in a way Laxus was tempted to put at. He smiled a dopey smile, leaning further into the kiss.

When they pulled apart, breathless and smiling, they couldn't look away from each other.

"Don't know how this works with a chef," Laxus began in a whisper. "Don't wanna offend your sense of pride, but d'you maybe wanna get a bite to eat some place?"

For a stagnant second, that felt like an eternity to Laxus, Freed didn't say anything.

"I'd love that," Freed nodded a little, though his head still rested against Laxus'. "So long as you don't mind me critiquing everything?"

The joke was trumped by the honesty in his voice. Freed really wanted it!

"I can deal with that."

They shared a quiet, private smile. One that promised excitement, passion, and if Laxus allowed himself to be optimistic, perhaps a future as well.

#Fraxus #freed x laxus #freed justine #laxus dreyar #fairy tail #fanfic #writing #one shot #Word Count: 6k

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crispycrimebrulee · 3 years

Text

🎄25 Days of HXH: Day 22: Illumi x Tradition🎄

The suspense that comes around, just days before Christmas is always special for you. Suspense, mixed with Christmas cheer, a feeling like the one you had as a child, anticipating the arrival of Santa and all the things you’d wished for were fast approaching. Now, being older, it still applied, but it had now gotten the excitement of spending a day with loved ones, in a romantic atmosphere that only the Christmas season could offer you. Hallelujah by Pentatonix

Taglist: @to-move-on-means-to-grow , @lifescreams27, @twistedsmth, @dukinaxael, @weeb-chick-181920

With Christmas comes traditions, like most families or couples or friend groups have. Be it ice skating, an annual snow ball fight turning to a snowy royale, a gingerbread competition, or a most epic Christmas party, all in the name of the holidays do they make the season that much brighter. Illumi’s family had a tradition as well, it seemed, yet he hadn’t told you what it was. You’d only heard of it in bits and pieces, whispers behind closed doors and knowing looks from his siblings that it would most certainly involve you. Knowing how his family is and how they function, you’d been hoping the whole time it wasn’t anything awful.

A week prior, Illumi had taken you shopping, telling you to pick out something red or gold, with matching shoes. Not just anything, though. Givenchy, YSL, Gucci, Prada, you name it. He brought you to every designer store you could imagine for you to pick out something stunning to wear. Upon asking him why he was intent on spoiling you for seemingly no reason, or at least a secret one (which, to be fair, he does quite often, seeing as he doesn’t know “how else should he spend his money”, besides spending it on you) this time, it was shrouded in secrecy, answering with “just pick something” whenever you asked if there was a special occasion. The both of you know you have your wits about you, and that you’d been picking up pieces of hints about this special tradition he his family has, so naturally you suspected it was for the previously mentioned event, and he knew you’d put two and two together, despite treating you like you had no clue about an event beyond your own nose. You did pick something out eventually, something both red and gold, with accessories and shoes to match, making you look quite festive yet effortlessly classy. It’d been sitting in your closet, separated from everything else you owned, and glaringly obvious that it was very much out of your usual price range. The days passed slowly, and the outfit, sitting in your closet and sticking out like a sore thumb almost began to bother you. Clearly you knew where you were supposed to wear this too, but you also didn’t. Illumi was always very keen about no secrets in the relationship you two had, with the exception of the gory details of his work. If he had somewhere to take you, he always told you where and when, seeing as there was no reason to hide it from you. The desire to know just what this was for was eating at you slowly, again, like the anticipation of Christmas day for young children.

Siting in your kitchen, the thoughts of the poorly shrouded secret and the outfit managed to slither into your thoughts again, making you roll your eyes in frustration. You might as well call Illumi and ask him just what the hell is going on.

However, as if sensing your thoughts (which, who knows, that ability may very well be something he has), your front door swung open, producing a slightly snow covered Illumi.

As a note, the snow covered Illumi is quite the precious sight. He was bundled up quite nicely, his dark hair poking out just a bit between his beanie and his scarf, as well as the tip of his nose and his cheeks peeped out, flushed red from the cold air. He looked soft, and in need of warmth.

Over time he’d gotten used to being up front about wanting certain things from you, so, stretching his arms out (rather stiffly, though) he opened them a bit, signalling you hug him.

Smiling, you made your way over to him and took him up on the offer, burying your face in his chest. He hummed a little at your warmth, and patted your head gently, his trademark show of affection.

“Hello y/n.” he said, now gently caressing your hair.

“Hi! What brings you here?” you replied, looking up at him and beaming.

He blushed a little, knowing what your smile does to him, and he knew that you knew as well.

Stepping inside, he unzipped his jacket and pulled out a small envelope with a silver wax seal, and cracked it, allowing the small envelope to flap open. Handing it to you, he put his hands to work, removing the scarf and hat, along with his jacket.

Inspecting the letter, it was more an invitation than anything else. Seemingly expensive, thick paper with delicate gold engravings outlined the border of the invitation, and you couldn’t help but run your fingers over the design. The invitation seemed to be entirely hand written, nothing was printed, and the calligraphy on its own was stunning.

You glanced up at Illumi and almost caught a look of nervous anticipation from him, like this was the biggest moment of his life. Very rarely was he like that, so the weight of whatever your response was to this paper seemed to be causing him tension.

Looking back down at the invitation, you couldn’t help but smile.

It was an invitation to a ball of sorts, a very elevated Christmas party held by Illumi’s family. A seasonal Christmas garden would be in show, as well as a small dance and a dinner.

Smiling at Illumi, you walked up to him, placing a few gentle kisses on his face. Pulling away, his face was flushed red, and he had a gentle look of awe about him as you watched him, smiling ear to ear.

“Of course I’ll go with you for this…” you trailed off, because sure, it was a party of sorts, but with his family it couldn’t just be any old party.

“Tradition, y/n. This is a tradition. And..thank you.” He finished for you, staring at you, studying your face as he always does.

“Tradition? A ball? This is essentially what it is…” you said, looking over the letter again.

Illumi nodded, tracing a finger over your facial features.

You slipped on the outfit that Illumi had been so intent on buying for you a week ago, studying yourself in the mirror. Giving yourself a little spin, you watched the fabric flutter in the air, the gold detailing sparkling in the low lighting of your room. Illumi had said he’d be picking you up at 5pm, and it was already 4:50pm. Gathering your belongings, you made your way downstairs and out the front door.

Standing there, looking as sharp as ever in a black suit, with a deep red jacket to match your own outfit, stood Illumi, waiting beside a limousene, and glancing at his watch every 5 seconds. Glancing up from his watch, he did a double take, his eyes resting upon you. You smiled and waved, and you panicked a little, because he looked like he might fall over where he stood. The tips of his ears were red, and his cheeks were as red as his jacket, and his eyes were looking you over with burning intensity.

Approaching him, he continued to look you over, in an even more intense gaze, running his fingers over the slope of your shoulder, the curve of your jaw, placing his hand on your waist. Smiling up at him, you gave him a little spin, even if he probably wouldn’t react to it. He simply smiled back gently, and stepped aside to open the limo door for you. Taking the lead, you stepped inside and made yourself comfortable as he shut the door and walked around, getting in the limo himself.

“You look good, y/n.” he said, looking you over once more.

“Thank you, Lumi! You look wonderful too…” you returned, gently taking his hand and playing with it.

After some time, you arrived at the Zoldyck estate, and you almost gasped. Behind those steel dark doors was a lush, winter wonderland, with small lights decorating the trees. The snow itself looked magical and ethereal, and you were taken aback with how gentle such a place could look. Upon getting closer to where the ball would be held, you finally let that gasp slip from your lips, letting it glide into a nostalgic smile. The gardens and the outside in general was magical in every sense of the word, like a small glimpse of a Christmas town tucked away in the mountains.

After a few more minutes, the limo stopped and you were escorted out, Illumi meeting you on your side, extending his arm to you, so that you may slip your arm in his. Doing so, you walked with him indoors, greeted by the gentle scent of pine needles and peppermint, a cozy atmosphere floating around like gentle hazy smoke from a fireplace.

You greeted Illumi’s family and the other guests, which included Killua’s close friends, seeing as he had no date.

For some time, Illumi took you to explore the estate, watching you bubble about the Christmas decorations and how wonderful everything looked, answering your questions about how long it took to this, and how many years back the tradition went back. After some time, he walked you over to the dining hall, where a lavish display of food was set out, and everyone was seating themselves while being served.

Dinner was eventful but not bustling, light conversation about work and Christmas, family traditions and how wonderful you looked, and how you’d make a lovely in-law, causing Illumi to flush scarlet.

After dinner, there was a moment to dance a little, but Illumi declined, saying he’d rather not make you uncomfortable in this situation.

In a move much unlike him, Illumi snuck you outside into the gardens, beautifully decorated and gently lit, with a circular center clear of snow. Looking at him, you searched for whatever motivated him to whisk you outside into the December air.

Standing in the middle of the circle, he realized he was holding both of your hands and looking at them calmly, feeling over your knuckles with soft movements. Finally having a chance alone with him, you took in his features; soft, pink tinted cheeks from the cold, his hair in a low bun, with small wisps framing his face, his lashes catching small snowflakes as they’d begun to fall down. His eyes were always soft around you, his entire demeanor relaxed and became vulnerable around you, an aspect of your relationship and his personality that you cherished deeply.

“YN.” he said, his gaze finding yours, soft and full of earnestness.

“Mmm?” you replied, gently smiling up at him, returning the gentle touches on his hands.

“Dance with me. Here.” he (sort of) asked, pulling you closer, fixing one of your hands on his shoulder, the other slightly raised with his own. Music from the house was playing just loud enough for you to hear; Hallelujah but almost an acapella version, heavenly and bold, but with a lightness to it. You nodded, accepting his request.

He stepped back, and you stepped forward as he brought you into a waltz, slowly at first. A gentle, rotational dance, slowly helping you find your rhythm as he leads you along.

I’ve heard there was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the Lord.

Gently rubbing his thumb against your back, you could feel his heart falling in sync with yours as he spun you a little, his eyes never leaving yours, and you couldn’t smile.

And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah. Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah…

He kept his pace, yet he widened his steps, allowing you to cover more of the circle in the garden. You followed suit, the rhythm flowing nicely between the two of you, hearts in sync. You let your head fall against his chest, and he hugged your waist a little tighter, holding you closer to him silently.

And love is not a victory march, it’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah…

And surprisingly, a waltz is not dizzying, as one may suspect from watching a pair dance a waltz. However, a waltz is not dizzying for lovers, for it can also be described as hypnotic. Gentle yet strong, a gentle spin, a chaste dip, the feeling of hands in another's, hearts in sync, nothing else to exist but lovers and music, a waltz combining two hearts into a hypnotic tangle, steps not matter, they fall away.

And maybe there’s a God above, but all I’ve ever learned from love…

On the edge of what the future holds bold, untold, the folds of the universe, that balance between reality and unimaginable dreams of dancing, of harmony, of romance, feelings of not feeling anything and feeling the earth's tremors beneath your feet, feeling as you move with a lover, a forever, a walking home, a someone you cherish.

It’s not somebody who’s seen the light…

And what do we dance for? Lovers in the midst of a waltz, where everything’s fallen away? love? For love? With love? By love?

It doesn’t matter, really.

It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah…

Nothing matters in a moment of a waltz, in the chorus of a song, in a tangle of hearts mixing with a hypnotic movement of feet, falling into trance, into step, while two lovers fall in love.

Hallelujah…

Illumi was just as lost as you were, in a blur of a waltz, picking up a startling pace, yet it felt light and beautiful, the blur of snowflakes dancing and falling around you, like small blessings in the dimly lit surroundings of the garden. Holding you as close as he could, falling deeper into the dance that, in reality, had lasted for 3 minutes so far.

Hallelujah!

You could stay like this forever, dancing in his garden, the wintery atmosphere blessing you both with love and spirit and feverish desires for forever to be found between the two of you.

Illumi slowed down with the low, fading out hum of voices from the song, feeling the December cold reach back to you, bringing you down from a gentle euphoria.

You couldn’t be bothered to speak, you felt as though feeling your heart beat with his, his hands still in yours, minimal space between you was loud enough of a response.

#anime #anime fluff #anime headcanons #Hunter X Hunter #hunter x hunter headcanon #hunter x hunter x reader #hunter x hunter fluff #hxh #hxh imagines #hxh headcanons #hxh fluff #illumi #illumi zoldyck #illumi x reader #illumi headcanons #illumi fluff #hxh christmas #25 Days of HXH CCB

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olliepig · 3 years

Text

Scott-land Yard

So, as everyone knows, it was our wonderful Scott’s birthday yesterday. In honour of that fact, the amazing @willow-salix and I got together and this was the outcome.

It’s also available on AO3 here.

******

“Smile!” Gordon chirped as he and Scott posed for the camera that had been thrust in their faces. John managed something that looked more like a trapped wind grimace and resisted the urge to hide behind Scott.

“I hate this,” John whined. He'd deny it, but it was definitely a whine.

“You hate everything,” Gordon shot back, pausing and shifting to a new pose after only three steps when another passer-by spotted them and requested a picture.

“I do not, I just hate going anywhere public because it’s always like this,” he lifted a hand to shield his eyes as another flash almost blinded him.

“We’re International Rescue,” Scott reminded him. “It’s part of the territory.”

“Yes, because that’s the only reason they’re popping up like meerkats to invade my personal bubble.”

“What else could it be?” Gordon asked.

“Oh, I don’t know,” John replied, sarcasm dripping from his lips. “It’s definitely not got anything to do with the fact that we’re dressed like we just fell out of a Jane Austin novel.”

“I think we look good,” Gordon argued, tugging his jacket back into place and smoothing it down.

“We do, quite dashing,” Scott grinned, preening for another picture.

“I think we look like idiots.”

“This is going to be a fun night,” Gordon sighed as they reached the door of the pub appropriately named ‘The Moody Cow’.

“Happy birthday to me,” Scott rolled his eyes, shoving his protesting brother inside.

Looking around the inside did not instil John with more confidence.

“This has to be at least six health code violations.”

“Just six?” Scott quipped.

“I was talking about the front door.”

“Oh stop complaining so much,” Gordon chided him, taking in the sawdust floor and wobbly looking tables. “I think it’s charming.”

“Exactly,” Scott agreed, making a beeline for the bar and ordering three beers. “If this is what the girls have planned, then who are we to argue?”

“I don’t know what their plans are,” grumbled John, reluctantly following his brothers into the bar, “but based on this, I do know I don’t trust either of them.”

“You might have a point there,” Scott conceded, as he waited for their drinks. “We’ve all seen what happens when we leave those two unsupervised, and according to Cat they’ve been planning this for months.”

“We’re doomed,” John groaned, taking an experimental sip of the beer he’d just been passed. “There’s no hope for us.”

“What even is this?” Gordon asked, making a face as he sipped whatever pigs swill had been glassed up and handed over to them. “It’s disgusting.”

“It’s traditional, I believe,” John said, taking another cautious swig of his own, unable to decide if he liked it or not.

“Well I like it,” Scott declared, taking a big gulp of his own drink and looking around for a table.

“What is this?” John asked the barman, who fished a bottle out from under the bar, showing him the label. It turned out to be from an historical brewery that specialised in archeological brewing, with recipes taken from old texts and replicated. John raised an eyebrow briefly in what might possibly, somewhere in the outer reaches of space, be considered as appreciation, not that he’d ever admit that, before handing back the bottle and taking his seat with his brothers.

“What time did the girls say they’d get here?” Gordon asked.

“About now I think,” Scott replied, looking at his watch before fixing his eyes on the door in the hope of seeing someone who wasn’t one of his brothers. It wasn’t that he didn’t like spending time with them, but he had been promised a fun night out with some kind of activity that involved great secrecy and costumes, and he was very keen to find out what it was.

“They’re late,” John sniffed. “I’m not in the least surprised.”

“Since when has Selene been on time for anything?” Gordon laughed. “I’d have thought you’d have stopped complaining about it by now.”

“John? Not taking the opportunity to complain? Never!” Scott jested, giving John a friendly nudge.

John scowled in response. “I am perfectly aware of her way of doing things. I’ve learnt to accept it, but that does not mean I agree with it. Also, I do not complain, I state facts.”

“Can we leave him at home next time?” Gordon asked.

“Yes, please do,” John agreed, sounding far too eager.

“No, it’s my birthday and I want you here,” Scott declared. “Plus I’m not dealing with the girls on my own, this is supposed to be a celebration not torture.”

Before John could open his mouth to reply, their attention was grabbed by a door at the back of the room swinging open, revealing both Selene and Cat dressed as what could only be described as Victorian hookers.

“Oh god,” Scott choked as Cat sashayed towards him, swinging her hips as she went.

“I dread to think what this is about,” John sighed when his own woman reached his side, trying very hard not to lose an eyeball in her cleavage.

“Well hello there, birthday boy,” Cat breathed, sliding herself onto Scott’s lap with a wiggle that made him groan quietly as she slung an arm around his shoulder and placed a small kiss of his cheek.

“This is new,” John observed, skimming a fingertip down the laces of the corset he’d definitely not seen before. “I’d ask what the occasion was but you never need an excuse to go shopping.”

“I feel very left out,” Gordon bitched, his eyes still fixed on the door as if staring at it would reveal his date for the night.

“Is Penny not here yet?” Cat asked, looking up in shock as she finally tore her eyes away from Scott and realised that one member of their party was indeed missing. “I thought she’d have got here ages ago.”

Selene, who had been surprisingly quiet the whole time, now perched herself on John’s lap and lifted an arm to get the attention of the barman.

“You,” she called loudly in a demanding tone. “Da, you, you bring me vodka, big glass.”

“That’s new too,” Gordon laughed, hearing a very strange accent coming out of her previously quite common London mouth.

Selene took the glass with a nod of thanks and downed half its contents in one, slamming it down on the table, before spearing Cat with a warning look. “Nyet, remember what grandmudder say, they pay for grind or get nothing at all.”

“Da, but she also say need to show something to bring them in,” Cat retorted, her face reddening slightly as her awful attempt at a Russian accent grated in her ears.

“Minushka, she say, you show one apple, not whole basket of fruit,” Selene gave a little hip swivel that made John choke on his fancy beer in demonstration then got to her feet, avoiding his attempt to keep her on his lap and his dignity intact. “Like so.”

“And I’ve shown apple,” Cat replied, sliding herself up Scott as she stood, feeling his eyes tracking her every move. “Now he want whole basket.”

“Whole basket is extra,” Selene nodded. “We take to rooms now, da?”

“I can’t even pretend to know what’s going on here,” Scott cut in, clearing his throat and grabbing Cat by the waist, enjoying her shriek as he pulled her back down onto his lap. “But it’s my birthday and I’m very happy with having this ‘basket’ right here, thank you very much.”

He fixed Selene with a stare, daring her to deny him on his special night. Smiling in triumph as she huffed dramatically and looked away, allowing it for now, it was his birthday after all. Risking her wrath further, he placed a quick kiss on Cat's neck before continuing. “Anyway, shouldn’t we wait for Penny before we go anywhere?”

Selene rolled her eyes in Cat’s direction, clearly throwing her under the bus for her best friend being late. “Staff, you cannot get them.”

John’s hand took it upon itself to reach out and tweak the edge of the bustle pad type thing that was giving his woman a backside you could balance a tea tray on, unable to ignore it.

Just as Selene turned to admonish him for touching something he might not be able to afford, the main door to the bar opened and Penny swept in, looking every inch the Lady that she was. Dressed impeccably in what looked to be an original evening gown from the period, her eyes registered her shock at the low cut chemises, corsets and shortened ruffled bustle style skirts that adorned the other two women present.

“Did you not send her the brief?” Selene whispered to Cat, dropping the fake Russian accent she had adopted for a moment.

“Of course I did,” Cat hissed back. “But you know she likes to do things her way. I guess she just decided she knew better.”

“Then I guess that means we have a classy prostitute that’s just joined the ranks, best we got,” Selene whispered back.

“It sure does,” Cat shrugged. “We can make it work.”

“Not like we’ve got a choice,” Selene gripped her corset and hoiked it up, wiggling her boobs back into place then turned back to the boys. “Gentlemen, it is time, we have you now.”

“Is that supposed to be a romantic offer?” John asked, although he didn’t hesitate to offer his hand so she could drag him to his feet.

“In Russia we do not do the romance, we just do the bonk,” she told him, making Scott splutter with laughter. “We have not time for making nice. Time is money, friend.”

Penelope shot her fellow females a look of utter bewilderment with a dash of disdain but gamely moved to join them, running a judgemental eye around the bar and its less than pristine flooring. “I should not have worn great great great great Aunt Mildred’s debutant gown.”

“Yeah, probably not your greatest idea,” Cat laughed, giving her a quick hug in greeting before slipping her hand into Scott’s, giving it an affectionate squeeze as she led the way towards the door at the back of the room.

“What kept you?” Gordon asked, sidling up to Penelope in the hopes of stealing a quick kiss. Much as he loved his brothers partners it sucked to be playing the part of the third wheel. Penelope offered him her cheek, conscious of her perfectly applied lipstick, she might be completely over dressed and apparently out of character and her depth, but she was not about to let that stop her.

“I got held up at the Bureau, they’ve decided that everyone, regardless of experience or seniority, must now have a partner,” she snorted in disgust at the very thought that she might be counted among that number. My new recruit leaves a lot to be desired.”

“Sounds like a bad day,” Gordon winced sympathetically. “But you’re here now, so at least you can kick back, relax and have fun with us.”

Selene threw open the door and started climbing the stairs, stopping them all in a dark, dingy hallway which led off to more doors.

“I guess we’ll see about that,” Penelope huffed, catching the lacy edge of her skirt on a nail that stuck out from a door frame.

“Money first, no kiss, no taking home to mudder,” Selene called out, laying down the rules. “Catya! Penya! Ladies to your jobs.”

Cat grabbed Penny by the hand and towed her forwards to the front of their little huddle.

Selene shoved a door open and walked in two steps before stopping and letting out the longest, loudest and most dramatic scream she possessed, the one reserved purely for kilt shots of sexy heroes or cute animals.

“Holy hell!” Scott yelped, having been directly behind her and therefore deafened the most.

“No,” Cat shrieked, throwing herself over the mannequin splayed out on the floor, using all the acting skills she possessed as Selene and Penelope tried to pull her back up again. “Anna!”

“What on earth is going on here?” Gordon asked, completely lost at the turn of events that the evening had taken.

“You not know?” Selene sobbed dramatically, burying her face in John’s neck to hide the fact that she was still dry eyed as she huddled against his side. “You are in Whitechapel and you know not of the murders? Are you not detectives sent to save us?”

“Ah, I see,” Scott declared triumphantly, feeling rather smug that he’d worked it out before anyone else. “It’s some kind of murder mystery thing.”

“I see nothing!” Gordon whined. “Someone explain, please?”

“What you mean ‘murder mystery’?” Cat sniffed as she looked pleadingly up at Scott, finding it very hard to keep a straight face. “This our friend. You help us please? We not want to be next victim.”

“You help, we pay with kind, da?” Selene did some weird kind of boob shimmy that almost popped the twins right out of the corset that was barely holding them in as it was. John resisted the urge to throw his jacket over her head and drag her away right there and then before she lost every last ounce of dignity she possessed. He was right, they could not be trusted to be left alone to plan anything.

“Well, if that’s what’s at stake, then I think we’d better help the ladies, hadn’t we?” Scott asked, trying very hard to tear his eyes away from Cat’s behind as she crouched back down over the body on the floor.

“Let me make sure I understand this,” Penelope started. “You told me that we would be playing some kind of escape room scenarios and that we had to dress the part, at no point did you tell me that I was supposed to act as a braindead lady of ill repute.”

“Women no work for police,” Selene told her. “Women have but one job, to please man.”

“Women cannot work for the police? There to please men? I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous!” Penelope gasped, utterly horrified at the way her friends were apparently happy to set women's liberation back a few centuries. “Now let me tell you somethin-”

“C’mon Penny,” Gordon bravely interrupted her, gently taking her hand and pulling her away from the main group slightly as the others all exchanged worried glances, wondering how this would play out. “It’s just a bit of fun for Scott’s birthday. Nobody means any harm by it.”

“That may be so,” Penelope sniffed, “but I still wish someone had told me in advance.”

“We did,” Selene reminded her, dropping her fake accent for a moment. “We sent you the package with the historical notes and details, it’s not our fault you didn’t read them.”

“And it’s not my fault I didn’t have time!” Penny shot back, her eyes meeting Selene’s in a challenge that nobody wanted to see the outcome of.

Selene’s eyes narrowed dangerously and Gordon took a step closer in case he needed to dive in between them to act as a human shield, but she seemed to think better of it, obviously caring more about the reason they were there, that being her best friend's birthday.

“Well if you’re really not comfortable then nobody is going to force you to do it, Penny,” Gordon continued, trying desperately to keep the peace and allow the night to go ahead more or less as planned. “Tell you what, if we need to keep the numbers equal, why don’t I take your role and you can do mine?”

“Yes, that would do very nicely, thank you,” Penelope replied, brightening instantly and placing a small kiss of thanks on Gordon’s cheek before moving to stand with Scott and John.

John had been wandering the room, taking in everything there was to see, but now his eyes strayed from the crime scene to catch Selene’s, one eyebrow lifting in question. She shrugged in return, she had no clue what was going on either.

“So how does this work then?” Scott asked, trying to move away from the slight awkwardness that seemed to have sprung up in the room.

“How this work?” Cat repeated, trying to hide the smirk of amusement that Scott was finally bamboozled by something from showing. “You police. You investigate scene, go back to police station. Find who did it.”

“Examining body is usually good place to start,” Selene nodded, slipping back into character. “It has been so long since last victim, we thought him gone.”

“We try to help,” Cat added, gesturing to Selene and Gordon. “Can ask us questions. We might know answers, might not. But you not know if not ask us.”

“Anna, rest her soul,” Selene did a wonky cross over her chest and closed her eyes, bowing her head respectfully. “She was good to her mudder, she had three children. They were life. Now she will not have beets to feed her family, for she has been so slain.”

“You are enjoying this far too much,” John whispered to her, unable to help the small smile that formed.

“Oh, you know you want me to bring this accent home tonight,” she whispered back, trying not to lose character too much. “You are clever detective, with big,” she looked him up and down seductively, eyes lingering just a second too long below his belt, “brain. You help and I reward, da?”

“John,” Scott called, managing to gain John's attention before his brother's brain short circuited. “We need a game plan here.”

“I’d try reading that note first,” John suggested lightly, pointing at the slip of paper that was half hidden under the victim’s bloody torso.

“Well, sure, if you want to go for the obvious option,” Scott shrugged as if he’d known the note was there the whole time. John and Gordon were not fooled.

Scott bent down to retrieve the blood splattered letter, noting there were fingerprints on it.

“Did you really think I was gone?” he read aloud. “My victims are many in number and miles apart, but now I am back in my original hunting ground and embarking on a series of murders worse than the last. And this time I’m upping the stakes. You almost caught me the first time but you did not succeed. Now you have no choice, find me or I will come for you next. Signed, Jack.”

“Well, that is rather distressing,” Penelope commented. “Based on that note, along with the location and time period, it sounds like Jack the Ripper has made another appearance.”

“Da,” Selene nodded, sidling closer to John to hang off his arm in what she hoped looked to be a suitably terrified way while still rubbing herself against him like an over friendly cat. “It is not safe for us to be on streets. We are honest working girls-”

“Ahem,” Gordon interrupted, clearing his throat and waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “I swapped with Penny, remember?”

“Honest working people,” Selene corrected herself. “All we do is the sex.”

“You needn't sound so proud of it,” Penelope sniffed, leaning over the body to examine it. “There appears to be a number of wounds to her body, all of which look to be consistent with a stabbing and slashing motion made with a knife, if my memory serves that is correct for the setting.”

“This is not game,” Selene snapped, her temper flaring just a little. They all had their roles to play and Penelope was not taking it seriously enough. The escape room usually had actors that fulfilled the roles that she, Cat and apparently now, Gordon, were playing, but she and Cat had decided that that would likely mean they had too many detectives and would reduce both the fun and the time they would be in the rooms. They had paid extra to hire the whole of the establishment for two hours and to take on the roles themselves to increase the fun. They had spent days researching, learning their lines and brushing up on the details of the case, now it seemed that, not only had Penny neglected to do her homework, she was reluctant to play along.

“A lady detective, I think that’s a bit of alright, I do,” Gordon leered in an attempt to defuse the situation, sounding like a mix of Parker and a bad Dick Van Dyke, Mary Poppins accent.

Cat sniggered to herself, clearing her throat and assuming her character once again when Scott glanced at her.

“Find anything interesting, detective,” she drawled, swanning over to Scott in an attempt to distract him from his mission.

John rolled his eyes, moving to join Penelope at the scene of the crime, although he had to drag Selene with him as she still clung to his arm. “Pass me that camera, will you?”

Selene handed him an old fashioned camera that looked exactly like a victorian era piece but it had been updated with some kind of polaroid technology so that a picture was printed out of it almost instantly in period accurate sepia.

“Huh, that’s actually quite clever,” John reluctantly admitted as he snapped a few shots and collected the photos that came out, handing them to Scott for him to examine. “Penelope, can you bag up anything that you think could be evidence?”

“I’m a little busy here, John,” Penelope answered, already rummaging in the murdered dummy’s clothes.

Scott picked up the slack and took the leather bag that Cat handed him, taking a bag out of it to pick up anything that John might consider evidence. He picked up a key from the ground beside the victim, while John took a photo of a bloody boot print and then laid a piece of paper from the detectives bag over it to make a copy of it.

Selene took it upon herself to delve into the bag too and emerged triumphant, an old fashioned pair of handcuffs dangling from her fingers. She twirled them for a moment, whistling to get John’s attention, then attached them to her belt.

“For later, you will pay extra,” she informed him, blowing him a kiss.

“Do I get toys like that?” Scott asked Cat. “It is my birthday, you know.”

“Oh, I’m aware of that,” Cat answered with a wink. “You heard the lady, toys are extra, so you better have brought your big wallet with you.”

“Want to come find out?”

Cat looked him up and down appreciatively. “Is that a grapple gun in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?”

“Locked and loaded.”

“Can you smell something?” Gordon asked Selene, adopting a conversational tone.

“Da," she nodded." Uglichsky.”

“Huh?”

“The english, they call it cheese.”

“Yes, exactly right, something is definitely cheesy around here and I think it’s coming from the birthday boy.”

“Hey!” Scott protested. “Be nice to me, it’s my birthday!”

“And people think he’s the smooth one,” John sighed, shaking his head. “Can we get back to work now?”

Cat, Gordon and Selene shrugged their agreement.

“OK, you can start helping by telling us a bit more about the woman that was murdered and where you were in the hour leading up to the discovery of her body,” Scott suggested, although he soon wished he hadn’t.

What came next was a jumble of gossip of life on the streets, sordid tales of the woman’s past, each more outlandish than the last, a few too many details of her not so private life, some tips on love making in Russia that John was very sure Selene had made up on the spot and enough random information that all three detectives were more confused after than when they had started. Penelope had declared that they had all the information they needed and that they could relax until they were called for.

“Our work here is done,” Cat said, smiling proudly.

“Yeah, but look at them now, being all serious and shit,” Selene replied as she moved to join them, leaving the detectives to do their work.

“I wonder how long it’ll last,” Gordon grinned, lounging against a nearby wall.

“Longer than if you were with them,” Selene sniggered, nudging him gently when he feigned outrage.

Once Scott, John and Penelope had agreed that they had gathered as much evidence as they could from the crime scene, the girls, with Gordon trailing along between them, led the way to the room that housed the police station.

In the room there was a desk, a few chairs and some evidence boxes, along with piles of paperwork and notes. The walls were covered in photographs of the original Jack the Ripper crime scenes, case notes, maps and newspaper articles. There were also autopsy reports, witness statements and artistic renderings of potential suspects.

“Woah, this is actually pretty cool,” Gordon whistled, looking around the room.

“It does seem quite thorough,” John admitted, his eyes taking everything the room had to offer.

“I say we start with the first victim, work our way across the wall and then tackle the desk,” Scott decided, “that way if there is any hidden evidence on the desk we’re more likely to notice it.”

“Agreed,” John said, already calculating ways to catalogue the information they would discover.

“I’d rather start at the desk,” Penny cut in. “One often finds that the first place to look would be the last place someone sat, and they always leave things on desks.”

“Then, by all means,” Scott gave in graciously. “You know best, investigating is your job after all.”

“Scott and I can do the walls while you check the desk and then we can swap if that works for you?” John suggested. “That way we won’t be getting in each other's way.”

“That will do quite nicely,” Penelope smiled, moving to start rummaging through the desk.

“Make sure you don’t tamper with any evidence,” Gordon called cheekily to her, “you’re all supposed to be working together to solve this, not going for solo glory.”

“I’m aware of that, thank you, Gordon,” Penelope huffed, firmly tucking an errant hair behind her ear that had dared escape the meticulously crafted hairstyle that was a perfect replica of a late 18th century style.

“I was just kidding,” Gordon assured her, earning a little smile in return.

Huddled together in a corner with Gordon, Selene and Cat watched as the detectives got to work and congratulated themselves on picking such a unique and fun activity. It was always a bit of a mission to find something to do on any of the boys birthdays. The kind of things that were considered to be once in a lifetime dream opportunities for everyday folk were just a standard Wednesday to their Tracys, so they often had to think outside of the box. Virgil was the next in line and they were already brainstorming, if they left it to any of the brothers they would never leave the island. No, it took their input to get anything done.

“I think we did good,” Cat whispered to Selene as they waited to be called upon as witnesses.

“We did,” Selene agreed. She glanced at Gordon as he bounced about between Scott and John, getting in the way. She couldn't help but smile at his antics, obviously they had expected the boys to be doing the actual detective work and for Penelope to be with them, but they could adapt.

“Has Penny said anything to you?” Selene had to ask, watching the serious way that Penelope was studying a letter she had found in a desk drawer. Their purpose was to both help by answering questions but also to hinder the detectives if they were motoring through the rooms too quickly. The whole experience was supposed to last for at least two hours, giving them time to work up an appetite before they ‘escaped’ and made their way down to the restaurant at the back of the building where they would have a slightly more upmarket atmosphere to eat and drink in.

“Not a thing,” Cat shrugged. “But knowing her as I do, I’m going to assume she had a bad few days at work and is a bit ratty because of it.”

“I guess so,” Selene sighed. “Bit of a shame though, this is Scott’s night and I’ll be pretty pissed off if it ends up being soured because someone is in a foul mood.”

“As would I,” Cat agreed, watching her man as he chatted quietly with John, discussing something they had found.

“They look like they are doing far too well at this,” Selene murmured, nodding at their boys. “I think we need to intervene.”

“You read my mind,” Cat grinned, rearranging her top to show maximum boobs.

“The things we do so they have a good time,” Selene sighed dramatically as she patted her bustled behind. “You know, this thing is kinda growing on me.”

Cat sniggered as they slunk their way over to start annoying to detectives. “Come on, Gordon, do your job.”

“On it,” he saluted, grinning wide.

For the next ten minutes they worked their hardest to distract the detectives with rude tavern songs, a slightly uncoordinated version of the can-can, seductive whispering in their ears and promises of demonstrating the tricks they had learnt on the streets of London.

Hands had to be stopped from sneakily wandering, pieces of evidence had mysteriously vanished only to be found hidden in slightly suggestive places upon their bodies and John had forgotten what he’d been thinking entirely when he’d found himself the recipient of a spontaneous motorboating as he got up close and personal with his girl's chest. Even Penelope had given up on her grumpy mood enough to be jollied into giggling along a few times, that was until the moment that Gordon’s hand came into contact with her behind in a gentle smack.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

"Enticing you into a dalliance, my lady," he grinned, sweeping his barrow boy hat off his head in a mock bow.

"Yes," she hissed, clearly fed up to the back teeth of the antics going in around her. "A lady. Your lady, and one does not smack a lady's bottom in a public place. And you," she pointed a finger of doom at Cat and Selene, "look at you both, look at how you're dressed and acting. It's all well and good playing a role but you're taking it too far, don't you think?"

"How we're dressed?" Selene glanced down at her outfit which, by her standards, was actually pretty normal, although it was in blue and white rather than her usual gothic black. "Should I be insulted?"

Cat just looked shocked, she hadn't thought that their behaviour had been that bad, they had simply been having fun, playing the part. Scott, John and Gordon seemed to be enjoying themselves too. Had she somehow messed up? It was true that she didn't know the family as well as Selene did, since she didn't live with them and was still a relatively part time member, but she had planned this with Selene and was taking her cues from her.

"Oh, come on, Penny, relax a bit, will ya?" Gordon groaned, rolling his eyes.

"I am relaxed," Penelope said, turning back to the wall she was studying.

Scott, who was at the desk studying some papers, caught Gordon's eye, nodding towards Penelope. It was his birthday celebration and he wasn't impressed. Cat and Selene had put a lot of effort into organising it for him and he didn't want their time to be wasted. Cat looked like she was about to cry and Selene looked like she was about to curse something or someone. Much as Scott knew that Gordon hadn't meant anything by his actions or comments, he had simply been joining in after all, it was obvious that something was bothering Penelope and it needed fixing.

Gordon nodded his understanding and moved towards his girl. His arm slipped around her waist and, while she stiffened at first, after a few whispered words she relaxed, allowing herself to lean closer to him for a moment before she shook him off.

"Stop trying to distract me, I'm trying to concentrate."

"It's my job to distract you," Gordon teased gently but it did little good.

"And I'm trying to do my job, so kindly let me do it."

"Dang, and I thought Tracys were competitive," Selene whistled, trying to defuse the tension. "OK, let's do this, boys against girls, screw the rules, you in?"

"I'm so in," Cat agreed, "who says prostitutes can't work with the law?"

The object of the escape room was to find enough evidence to point to a particular suspect that had been chosen by the escape room organisers. Almost like a game of Cluedo where there was a different murderer, room and weapon every time, the escape room team cycled through five of the most well known suspects of the original case. There was no telling which they had picked this time so the girls did their best to help Penelope as she worked to put together all the clues she had found.

Selene had spent a fair amount of time with Penelope, enough to feel like she knew the other woman quite well, but she realised now that she only knew one facet of her personality. Their interactions had mostly been on a casual, socialising level because, although Selene did work with the GDF on a freelance basis now and then working anywhere she was needed, she mostly found herself teamed with Kayo or Rigby. She told herself that this was because she was just that damned handy that they only put her with the best, she refused to acknowledge the fact that they were likely the only ones no longer scared of her. That wasn't it at all.

So, somehow she had managed to spend more than three years in the family and never had the opportunity to watch the Lady at work, now she was kinda glad that she hadn't.

Penelope was very much like John in the fact that when she had a goal in sight she was very bloody minded. She knew what she needed to do and she refused to let anything stop her. Selene tried three times to offer suggestions or to point out what looked like it might be an interesting piece of evidence only to be told, politely but firmly, that she was very wrong. Never one to waste her time flogging a dead horse she passed the baton over to Cat, tapped out with a fist bump and switched allegiance without a shred or remorse or a backwards glance.

"I'm out! You're on your own," she declared, defecting to the enemy camp, announcing her presence with a sneaky grope of John's behind where he was bent over the desk, Scott still in possession of the only chair.

Cat watched her friend go, unable to blame her. She had had the dubious honour of calling Penelope her best friend for more than half her life but that didn't make her any easier to deal with when she was in one of her moods.

A focused Penny was often a snappy Penny, the severity of which Cat had forgotten after years of not working with her on anything like a professional basis. Penelope, much like anyone that came from a privileged background, was used to getting her own way and having things done to their exact specifications. When you worked alone as much as she did, you often forgot that there were other ways of doing things other than your own.

Cat was well aware that just having Parker for back up had done very little to soften Penelope's edges, in fact it seemed to have sharpened them. Oh, she couldn't deny that her friend was excellent at her job, top of her field and still climbing, but that left her little time to waste on those that would potentially hold her back. She was of the mind that if there was someone considered better than you, that simply meant you had more to prove and harder work to do. You didn't stop until you had no one to surpass.

“What’ve we still got to do then?” Cat asked, knowing better than to just dive in and inadvertently mess with whatever strategy Penny was using to solve the mystery.

“You can look at those if you want,” Penny replied curtly, nodding towards a series of pictures beside her, her focus still on the paper in her hand.

Cat sighed as she picked up the pictures, managing not to recoil at the murder scenes depicted on them, as she desperately tried to work out the best way to talk to her friend. It wasn’t unknown for Penny to be prickly and difficult when things didn’t go her way, and it was something that they had fallen out about in the past, but she hadn’t expected her to behave like this at a birthday event for her boyfriend's brother.

“Penny, what's going on with you tonight?” Cat asked, deciding that the direct approach was likeliest to be successful. If experience had taught her anything, it was that Penny was far too good at evading questions and hints if they didn’t suit her.

“Nothing,” Penny dismissed, her eyes still firmly on the job at hand.

“Don’t start that bullshit with me,” Cat replied quietly but firmly, enjoying the look of shock in Penny’s eyes as they flew up to meet hers, clearly not expecting to be challenged. “I know you far too well for your own good and this isn’t like you.”

“What do you mean?” Penny deflected, trying to buy herself time, not liking the anger in Cat’s eyes but doubling down anyway. “I’m here aren’t I? I dressed up just like you asked and I’m even doing your little puzzles.”

“That’s not what I mean and well you know it,” Cat pressed, unimpressed but not surprised by the attempted diversion. “Yeah, you’re here, but you’re acting like you’d rather be literally anywhere else and I’m gonna need you to stop it before it ruins the night for Scott.”

Penny paused for a second, casting a glance around the room to ensure that nobody was in earshot before leaning in to Cat.

“If you must know, I’ve been feeling sick on and off for the last few days, so yes, I probably would rather be anywhere but here if I’m being honest,” she confided, feeling strangely glad to have unburdened herself on her friend.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m sorry to hear that,” Cat sympathised, concern for her friend’s health diluting her anger somewhat. “Do you think you’ve caught something?”

“Perhaps,” Penny replied stiffly, sitting herself back upright again, clearly not wanting to discuss it further.

“You look after yourself tonight, OK?” Cat pressed, not wanting to let the opportunity go. “But can you tone down the grumpiness a little? It’s Scott’s birthday night and we’ve put a lot of work into organising this.”

Taking Penny’s curt nod as an acknowledgement of what she had asked, Cat decided that she had done what she could for the time being. Looking around the room before getting back to her assigned task, she was glad to see that Scott at least seemed to be enjoying himself, absorbed in conversation with his brothers as Selene hovered nearby in case she was needed. Throwing a quick nod to her partner in crime in confirmation that she had tried her best, she reluctantly picked up the pictures again and began scanning them for clues.

Selene had little to do but watch the two teams, content to stay out of the way for the most part. Gordon had slotted back in with his brothers as he always did, the boys working together seamlessly to get the job done, focused now on their end goal.

John had all the relevant information correlated and they had moved onto the floor to spread out their findings. Talking together in hushed voices they were soon busily discussing their theories, expanding on or rejecting as needed until they had narrowed down their suspects to just two.

They held one last, whispered conversation, huddling together even closer when Cat wandered a little too close to their workspace and made their decision.

"So, we're in agreement?" Scott asked.

"Yep," Gordon clarified, John nodding with him.

"Even though I'm the IT guy, I'll allow you to input it, since it's your birthday," John grinned, carefully folding the piece of paper in which they had scribbled their conclusion and passing it to Scott.

"How generous of you," Scott quipped. Taking the paper he crossed over to the old fashioned typewriter that had been set up on the desk.

"What are you doing?" Cat asked suspiciously, "you can't be done already."

"Oh, I think you'll find that I am," Scott replied with a cheeky grin as he started typing out their answer. The typewriter had been modernised so that anything typed on it would be automatically transmitted to the central computer that controlled the escape room, the one that would either release them, or condemn them to try again.

"You don't normally say that so proudly," Cat shot back, making Gordon howl with laughter.

Scott ignored her to continue typing. He finished the last word, hit return and waited.

Somewhere in the hall a buzzer sounded, along with the unmistakable sound of a door unlocking.

“Is that it? Did we do it?” Gordon asked, almost bouncing with excitement.

John stuck his head out into the hallway, ducking back in a second later.

“Gentlemen, we are victorious,” he announced in as serious a tone as he could muster.

“They won?” Penelope glanced at Cat, a look of utter disbelief on her face. Cat shrugged in return. She didn’t really care who won as long as Scott had a good time. "They beat us?"

“Yes!” Scott cheered, high fiving Gordon. “Team Tracy for the win! What’s our prize?”

“I don’t know about you, but I quite like the look of our helpers,” John grinned, sliding an arm around Selene’s waist to pull her in against his side. “Doesn’t the hero always get the girl?”

“Only if he have coin,” Selene shot back, yelping when his hand bounced off her padded backside. “But in this case, I shall make exception. We call it taste test, da?”

“Now I know how Julia Roberts felt in Pretty Woman,” Gordon grinned cheekily. “Here I am, turning cheap tricks on the street and I’ve nabbed myself a real Lady. Personally, I think we all lucked out.”

“Is that so?” Penelope drawled, but she allowed a small smile to flirt with her lips, one that got larger when Gordon followed his announcement up with an exaggerated eyebrow wiggle. “You are impossible.”

“So they all say,” Gordon agreed, offering her his arm. “My lady?”

“Good, sir,” she acknowledged, slipping her arm through his with an accepting nod of her head.

“I’d certainly be very happy to accept our helpers as a prize,” Scott laughed, pulling Cat towards him and placing a quick kiss on her forehead. “Now, anyone got any idea of what happens next?”

Just as he spoke, a member of the escape room staff poked their head into the room. “Congratulations. You have found the killer. Thanks to you, London is safe again. Now, to whom should I give the hat of master detective?”

“Me,” Scott announced without hesitation, accepting the deerstalker hat and placing it proudly on his head before anyone could argue.

“If you’d like to follow me, dinner will be served downstairs in the restaurant. You must all be very hungry after all your hard work.”

“Oh thank God,” Scott declared, doing his best to ignore the stifled giggles aimed at his headwear coming from the rest of his family. “I’m starving.”

“Is there ever a point at which you’re not hungry?” asked Cat, genuinely interested to know the answer.

“Nope,” Scott answered proudly, yelping as Gordon swiped the hat off his head from behind as they walked.

“Gordon, you look ridiculous,” Penny giggled as he tried to put it on over the hat he’d forgotten he was already wearing. “Give it back to Scott. It’s his birthday after all,” she added, catching Cat’s eyes with a quick smile of acknowledgment as she tried to atone for her earlier outbursts.

“Seems unfair but OK,” Gordon grumbled good naturedly, handing the hat back as they entered the restaurant.

“Finally, somewhere that's not a total health hazard,” John muttered to Selene as they took their seats.

Totally ignoring him, not that he cared, Selene fussed around Scott, making sure that the birthday boy was comfortably seated at the top of the table with everything he could possibly need on hand if he wanted it. The start of the evening hadn’t exactly gone as they’d planned but she’d be damned if he didn’t enjoy what was left of the night.

There was something so rewarding about your first decent drink of the night after you’d suffered the stress of event planning and Selene was more than grateful to be able to slip into her chair between Gordon and John and pick up the vodka apple cocktail that had been delivered to her.

“A toast,” Scott started, holding up his beer.

“Isn’t one of us supposed to do that?” John asked as he grabbed his own beer bottle.

“Birthday rights,” Scott told him smugly. “I just wanted to thank you all for being here tonight, thank the girls for planning such a great activity with such pleasant eye candy and for joining in to make it fun.”

“Sure, why not,” Selene agreed, saluting with her glass. “To birthday rights and milking them.”

“Damn straight,” Scott grinned.

“To annoying older brothers on their birthday,” Gordon added.

“To brothers who aren’t safe to be left alone with your witch,” John grumbled goodnaturedly.

“Many happy returns to good friends,” Penelope continued.

Scott looked at Cat, one eyebrow raised in anticipation. “What have you got for me? Anything you wish to bestow upon me for the next year? Any praise that should be coming my way?”

“To my favourite dumbass in the whole world,” Cat grinned, raising her glass to join the rest. “May this year bring you health, happiness and as many enormous steaks as you can eat. Happy birthday, Scott.”

“Now that’s something I can definitely get on board with,” Scott laughed, raising his glass to his lips.

“Are you ready to order?” a waiter asked, appearing out of nowhere. He was dressed in period clothing, as were all the other staff members and a few patrons.

“What do you have here?” Gordon asked. He, like all of the Tracy family, enjoyed nothing more than a good meal and since there had been many years where such a thing was not always readily available, they had learnt to make the most of any time they were somewhere where food was cooked for them by someone who wouldn’t destroy it.

“Your meal tonight will consist of six courses,” the waiter started.

“Six!” Gordon yelped.

“There goes my waistline again, I’d only just found it again after Christmas,” Selene groaned, dropping her head into her hands. “I know this is supposed to be a traditional Victorian meal, but who thought this was a good idea?”

“You,” Cat reminded her.

“Shh, woman,” Selene growled but Cat just smirked, unbothered by the threat. She knew her far too well to take her seriously now.

“I think it’s the best idea you’ve had,” Scott grinned. “I’m so hungry I could eat my hat.”

“Even the ear flaps?” Gordon asked. Scott nodded seriously.

The waiter coughed politely.

“So sorry,” Penelope apologised, “do continue.”

“Your first course is a choice of pheasant or cream of asparagus soup, served with fresh bread. This will be followed with a lettuce salad with accompanying cheese fingers.”

A few eyebrows rose at this.

“Next you have your choice of fish course, consisting of either baked salmon with sauce hollandaise, oysters rockefeller or stewed eels.”

“Eels?” Selene made a face of pure disgust which was echoed by Cat and John.

“For your entree meats you have a choice of hunters style stuffed venison, roasted chicken, pan fried duck, lamb medallions or a sirloin of beef. You can pick any combination.”

“Any combination?” Scott was practically drooling.

The waiter nodded, clearly having seen the disbelieving faces many times before.

“All are accompanied by a choice of wild mushroom risotto, boiled new potatoes, potato croquettes or boiled rice, along with green peas and seasonal vegetables.”

“I’m in heaven,” Gordon groaned.

“For your dessert course we have a choice of a delicious lemon sorbet, chocolate mousse, sugar biscuits or a selection of petits fours. This will be followed by a cheese course and finally coffees,” the waiter finished with a flourish, clearly enjoying playing the part. He stood with his order pad, awaiting their decision.

Blank faces stared back.

“Clearly this is new to you all,” Penelope sighed. “You must excuse them. I’d like the asparagus soup and then the baked salmon, followed by the venison with boiled potatoes and the sorbet to finish. Thank you.”

“How the heck did you do that?” Gordon goggled. “I’m pretty sure even John didn't catch all that.” He looked at his brother for confirmation.

“I made it up to the meat selection,” John confirmed.

“I’ve forgotten everything before chocolate mousse,” Selene admitted.

“I got stuck on the eels,” Cat joined in.

“I’m still trying to decide which meats to pick,” Scott finished.

“It’s quite alright, sirs, madames,” the waiter assured them, producing a number of printed menu cards from somewhere about his person. “I shall give you a moment to decide while I fetch tonight's choice of wines and refresh your waters.”

“Thank you,” Cat called after him, already scanning the menu.

A lively debate broke out as everyone discussed the options, deciding what they would like and struck up bargains amongst themselves of who would get to try a sample of the others meal. Scott, of course, had pulled out his birthday card again to secure himself a taste of everyone's food.

Decisions finally made it was a better informed group that reeled off their choice of food to the waiter, who’s name they found out was Carl. He left them with four bottles of wine and didn’t even baulk at Scott ordering the sirloin, lamb medallions and the roast chicken. He was getting the biggest tip of the year that night.

-x-

“I can’t walk, I’m too fat, carry me.”

“My love, I adore you, but if you are indeed as fat as you claim I doubt carrying you would be good for my health.”

Selene paused to think about this, wondering just how her man seemed to be able to drink the amount of beer and wine he had and still form a coherent and slightly sarcastic response. It was one of the many things she found quite sexy about him. Hmm, sexy...

“I do like your body to be in peak health,” she mused, letting her eyes wander up and down his body, taking in the tailored coat, waistcoat, neckerchief and shirt combo that was sitting so well on him. His hair had been brushed back and styled in a close approximation of the era's popular side parted look and it suited him to perfection, though she missed that familiar curl she liked to run her fingers through. “I’ve heard that regular exercise is key, for which I’m always willing to lend a hand.”

One eyebrow rose at her assessing stare and blatant ogling of his person. “I’ll bear that in mind,” he assured her, trying to keep his serious tone but only just managing it.

“Good, you do that,” she insisted, wobbling slightly on her heels as she tried to keep to a straight line. She sighed happily when his arm draped around her shoulders, helping to keep her upright. She slipped her arm around his waist, leaning closer. This was good. This was nice.

“Do you think Scott had a good time?” she asked quietly, watching Scott and Cat as they walked a little way ahead of them.

John rolled his eyes, having known this was coming. She always got like this when she had a few drinks in her. She would either be so over confident she thought she was a queen or she started doubting her very existence.

“You know he did,” John assured her. “You always manage to somehow dream up the best ideas for us, something we very much appreciate, and joining forces with Cat made it all the better.”

“Cat’s great,” Selene said, smiling dopily. “I love her, she’s the best.”

“You love everyone when you’re tipsy, I should be grateful that I’m getting any attention at all.”

“Oh hush, you’ll get more attention than you can handle when we get home.”

“I must admit, a night of peace and quiet alone in our little apartment, before we return to the madness of the island tomorrow, is sounding like heaven.”

“Just the peace and quiet?” Selene’s hand slid its way neatly from the small of his back to his right buttcheek.

“Not just that,” he admitted. He glanced at his brothers and their respective partners. “Can we say goodnight now?”

Selene followed his gaze, still feeling the need to check the situation one last time before she abandoned her duty of best friend for the night and concentrated on her man.

Scott and Cat were giggling so loudly she could hear it echoing around the quiet streets, that and the clack, clack, clack, skkerch noise of Cat’s heels as she stumbled now and then. Scott was trying admirably to keep her upright, just as John was with her, but it seemed that all of the ballerina’s balance and poise had abandoned her.

“They seem happy enough,” she murmured, her eyes searching out the other two. Gordon and Penelope were walking close together, though there was a lot less holding up than the other two. Gordon was a little winding in his walking but was holding his own, chatting amicably, clearly on his best and most charming behaviour. Penelope was the vision of a perfectly put together lady, she always was no matter how much she drank. Not that she seemed to have indulged much from what Selene could tell.

“Did you see Penny drinking much tonight?”

John paused, frowning lightly as he thought about it. “No, I don’t believe I did. We went straight up to the rooms when she arrived so she missed out on the first drinks and she said she wasn’t in the mood for those wines and, since she doesn't touch hard liquor and can’t stand the taste of beer, she’d stick to fruit juice.”

“Makes sense,” Selene shrugged, not bothering to think too much about it. “Gordon seems to be back in her good books now so I guess it’s safe to leave them all to their own devices.”

“Good enough for me,” he grinned, stealing a quick kiss before raising his voice to be heard. “Scott, Gordon! We’re heading home, don’t forget to be ready to go at one, any later and we’ll leave without you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Gordon called back. “And if I ask if we’re nearly there yet one more time you’ll dump me out at 5,000 feet.”

“Too right I will,” John answered, not even trying to deny the threat as being a possibility. “Scott?”

“One, got it,” his brother responded after a well placed elbow to the ribs from Cat. “Although you know you’ll have to wait for me, it is my birthday.”

“One more day, that’s all you have left to use that excuse,” Selene reminded him.

“And I’m gonna milk it for all it’s worth,” he assured her, opening his arms for a hug.

Selene pulled him into her arms, yelping when he grabbed her a little too tightly and tried to lift her into the air, holding her against his chest as he rocked her back and forth.

“John! A little help!” she patted Scott’s back ineffectively, dropping her bag which hit the ground with a suspiciously metal sounding rattling clunk.

“Alright, bro, that’s enough, give her back and go home,” John ordered, rescuing his girl from his brother’s limpet like grasp. “Go fling your own around until she throws up.”

“Good plan!” Scott, who had been on the verge of pouting when his cuddle buddy had been stolen, now grinned.

It was Cat’s turn to shriek as she was unceremoniously grabbed around the waist and hoisted up to drape over his shoulder as he took off running.

“Don’t drop her!” Selene called but they were gone.

“And people think I’m the one to watch out for,” Gordon mock sighed, shaking his head.

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” John laughed.

“Night, Pen,” Selene said, giving the other woman a hug goodbye and then Gordon.

They waited until the pair had wandered off in the direction of their hotel, Penelope having given Parker his freedom for the night, before Selene allowed John to drag her to the tube station. Everyone was taken care of, the night had come to an end and now she could finally relax.

-x-

“Are you OK there?” Cat giggled as she threw her keys on the table, the amount of wine she had drunk with the meal making the sight of Scott sprawled on her sofa, looking very much like he might pass out any second much more amusing to her than it usually would.

“I’m absolutely fine,” he smiled up at her, grabbing her hand and pulling her down beside him. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason,” she laughed as she teetered dangerously on the edge of the sofa before losing her fight with gravity and slipping onto the floor with a bump. “Just that I’ve never seen anyone eat that amount of meat and remain conscious before.”

“Clearly, you’ve never been out for a meal with Virgil then,” Scott chuckled, undoing his belt and top button to give himself more room. Now that she’d mentioned it, he did feel rather full, not that he’d ever let her know that.

Cat spun herself around where she sat, threading an arm around Scott’s waist and resting her head on his chest, enjoying the peace and quiet her flat afforded them as he absent-mindedly stroked her hair.

“Did you enjoy yourself tonight then?” she asked, shifting uncomfortably as the bones of her corset started to dig in. How Selene managed to wear stuff like this on a regular basis was beyond her, although she did have to admit that it gave her a good figure which she had caught Scott admiring on more than one occasion over the course of the night, so perhaps she was onto something.

“It was awesome,” Scott declared, sensing Cat’s discomfort and making room on the sofa for her. “You did a great job.”

Cat let out a breath that she hadn’t realised she’d been holding as she hauled herself up beside him. “I’m so glad. It’s a bloody nightmare trying to think of anything for you lot.”

“Well, I really appreciate the thought that went into it,” he continued, flashing her a dazzling smile. “It was a great night and I think everyone had fun. Even Penny seemed to get into it by the end.”

“Yeah, she got there eventually,” Cat agreed, relieved that her friend’s behaviour hadn’t soured his enjoyment of the night. “Anyway, now we’re home, there’s something I want to give you.”

“It’s the handcuffs from earlier isn’t it?” he guessed, genuinely unsure as to whether that would be a good thing or not.

“No, I think Selene took them,” she giggled, enjoying the look of horror that passed over Scott’s face before he shook his head to clear unwanted thoughts of what his little brother and best friend may or may not be up to at that moment.

Jumping up from the sofa, Cat grabbed a small box that she’d carefully stowed on the mantelpiece earlier, handing it to him carefully. “Happy Birthday Scott,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him softly before retaking her place on the sofa beside him.

“Thank you,” Scott beamed as he started to peel off the wrapping paper, taken by surprise by the gift. They had talked about it beforehand and he had assured her that spending the evening together would be more than enough for him to be happy, so this was completely unexpected.

Cat just smiled in reply, taking a sip of her drink as she anxiously waited for him to open it. Buying the man who had literally everything he could ever dream of something for his birthday was a task that she had hated every minute of and a tight knot formed in her stomach in case she had somehow got it wrong.

“It’s amazing,” Scott gushed, finally opening the lid of the box and pulling an antique pocket watch out of its satin bed to examine it better, running an appreciative finger over the ornate filigree on the back. “I absolutely love it. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” Cat smiled, relief rushing through her as he went straight back to scrutinising his new toy. “But your present isn’t just the watch though, it’s really what the watch represents.”

“I’m sorry, but you’ve lost me there,” Scott admitted, a small frown appearing on his face as he looked up in surprise.

“Time,” Cat explained, her grin becoming wider as she became more confident in her choice. “From today, I’ve arranged for us to both have seven whole days off from our jobs. We’re going back to the island tomorrow but then what we do is absolutely up to you. We can stay there, come back here or do anything else that you might like.”

For once in his life, Scott was speechless, unable to think of any response other than to grab Cat and pull her into a tight hug. “How?” was all he could manage when he finally let her go. “How on earth did you manage that?”

“John and Selene helped me sort it out,” Cat explained. “He’s going to stay down and let EOS run Five while you’re away so there’s backup if needed.”

“Wow,” he breathed. “I don’t remember when I last had that amount of time off in one go.”

“That’s exactly what Selene said when I mentioned the idea to her,” Cat smiled, relaxing back against the cushions now that she knew her idea was a success.

“Do you think we really have to go back tomorrow though?” Scott wheedled, nuzzling into Cat’s neck, trying to hit all the spots that he knew usually made her putty in his hands. “Can we not just stay here for the whole week, order lots of pizza and be really antisocial?”

“Nice try,” she laughed, using all her strength to shove him off. “Selene and I are cooking you a birthday meal for all the family so yeah, you do kinda need to be there for that. But after that we can absolutely just chill out here if that’s what you'd like.”

“Spoilsport,” Scott grumbled goodnaturedly, his smile giving away his true feelings about the prospect of having all of his family around him for a meal not cooked by his grandma.

“Yep,” Cat agreed cheerfully. “Whatcha gonna do about it?”

“Nothing probably,” he shrugged. “Too tired and full at the moment.”

“Thought as much,” she concurred, nestling in and resting her head on his chest.

Silence descended over them as they lay, lost in their own thoughts. Turning his watch over in his free hand, Scott was unable to stop himself from fiddling with the clasp, repeatedly opening and closing the case as a smile crept onto his lips, the evening replaying in his mind.

“Is it time for bed yet?” Cat yawned eventually, the adrenaline from making sure the night ran smoothly finally beginning to wear off.

“Let me check,” Scott grinned, opening the watch case once more and squinting at it. “Yes. Yes, I think it is.”

“C’mon then,” she decided as she pushed herself off the sofa, somehow finding the energy to help haul Scott upright from where he was almost horizontal on the cushions.

“Thanks,” he mumbled sleepily, draping an arm around her shoulder as they made their way towards the bedroom and some well-earned rest. “This has been the best birthday ever.”

#Scott Tracy #John Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Penelope Creighton Ward #selene tempest #Catriona George #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction

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softest-cinnamon-roll · 4 years

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College prompt "21. I get stuck with a late class that doesn’t end until 9pm and I’m always anxious about walking across the campus to the dorms, so you offer to walk with me and one night, I find out that it’s in the exact opposite direction that you need to go in" + Reddie please! Thank you so much! 😊

When Eddie started his third year of college, he was sure that it was going to be the best year ever. He made a vow that summer to stop being so socially distant and go out to the clubs with his classmates. He made a deal with himself to actually try and make friends and maybe even, if he was lucky, find a boyfriend. That was until he received his schedule for the year, which included a mandatory class that finished at 9pm at night.

Having a late class wasn’t so bad in the summer, when it was still light outside and people were still walking around enjoying the daylight as much as they could. Late classes in the winter however? Not as fun. Especially not to someone like Eddie, whose dorm was all the way on the other side of campus and who was also riddled with anxiety.

Of course, he did his best to get the class changed. Surely there was another time that class was on that he could attend, but it turns out all of the other classes were full and that was also the only one running at his grade. Eddie really was screwed and as he walked out of the Dean’s building, he wiped the tears away from his eyes, sitting on the steps to calm down.

“It’ll be fine, it’ll be totally fine. Maybe- maybe Bill can come and meet you after class to walk home with you. That’s what friends are for right?” Eddie mumbled frantically to himself, trying not to fall into a panic attack. If that happened, whoever was around would look at his notebook for a contact, and find his mother's name. If anyone called her she would drag him back home so fast, muttering ‘I told you so’ all the way there.

Taking a few deep breaths, he found Bill’s number in his phone, dialling it and waiting for him to answer. When he did, Eddie explained the situation as calmly as he could, practically begging Bill to come and wait for him at 9pm when the class finishes every week. Due to it being on a Wednesday night, Bill had no issues with that and Eddie managed to calm himself down. See? All sorted.

It was all sorted for the first month into the semester. Eddie would stay at his 7pm class and at 9pm when it finished, Bill would be outside to walk him back to their dorm. It was a routine that Eddie was exceptionally grateful for, as he had no idea what he would have done otherwise. It was all fine, that is, until six weeks into his class and he received a very apologetic text message from Bill.

Eddie I’m so sorry. Something’s come up and I won’t be able to come meet you tonight. You think you’ll be okay walking home alone tonight? I’m really sorry! - Bill

The first thought that came into Eddie’s head wasn’t the thought of walking home alone, but about if Bill was okay. He was never one to bail on plans, so Eddie typed out a quick reply during their mid-lecture break.

Everything okay? - Eddie

Oh yeah, everything is fine! I just have a date that’s all! See you later. - Bill

Just like that, the worry about Bill was gone and it was replaced with the fear of having to walk across Campus alone in the dark. Slowly, he slipped out of his seat and walked up to the professor, quietly asking if he might be excused an hour early as he really didn’t want to walk home when it was pitch black outside. The professor was sympathetic, but explained that Eddie needed the credits to continue on to the next year, and the only way she could excuse him was if he was sick.

Resigning to his fate, Eddie turned around to head back to his seat, only to be stopped by a hand wrapping around his wrist and pulling him back. He turned around and looked down to see who it was, his eyes landing on one of his classmates, Richie Tozier. “Hey, uh, sorry but I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. I actually head in the same direction as you after this class, so if you needed someone to walk you home...I’d be willing?” He smiled at Eddie, a soft and genuine smile that made him very trusting. “Only if you want to of course.”

“You- really?” Eddie asked, hope in his voice as he smiled down at Richie. “You’d really walk me home at 9pm at night? Are you sure? You don’t have to if it’s too much I completely understand.”

Richie shook his head, “I offered, didn’t I?” He let out a light laugh. “I don’t mind, honestly. I’m not about to let you walk home on your own when it clearly makes you feel anxious.” He let go of Eddie’s wrist, and immediately Eddie felt a weird feeling of loss in his stomach. “I’ll meet you at the door after class?”

Eddie nodded his head and headed back to his seat to finish the rest of the class. Once 9pm hit, the professor asked everyone to pack up and head home, and Eddie walked down the steps to where Richie was standing by the door. “I really can’t thank you enough for this,” he whispered as they headed out of the building and into the dark, brisk, night. “I’d have probably slept in the classroom tonight if it wasn’t for you.”

“The dark scares you that much?” Richie asked seriously as they fell into a light walk in the direction of Eddie’s dorm. “I mean I don’t blame you, it’s freaking terrifying sometimes, especially when there’s no street lights and you can barely see in front of you.”

Shaking his head, Eddie buried his hands into his pockets to shield them from the cold. “It’s not that, the dark I mean. It’s what lurks in the dark at night when you’re alone that worries me. You hear all the horror stories of people being kidnapped when walking home alone at night. I don’t want to become one of those stories. Anyway, people are safer in groups. I feel safer if there is someone else with me.”

Richie smiled a little, “So is that why Bill Denbrough comes to walk you home every week?” He asked, turning his head to face Eddie as they walked. Eddie nodded his head in confirmation, and Richie let out a breath. “So...he isn’t your boyfriend?”

At the mere mention of Bill being his boyfriend, Eddie came to a grounding halt, “What the fuck, oh my god, no!” He shook his head, feeling a little sick, “I’ve known Bill since we were little kids, there is- oh god absolutely not! Why would you put that thought into my head!”

“I’m sorry!” Richie raised his hands in surrender, his lips turned up into an even wider grin. “I am terrible at assuming, I’m sorry that I put that awful thought into your mind. Will you ever forgive me?” He asked, motioning for Eddie to continue to walk.

Eddie pursed his lips, falling back into line with Richie. They were almost halfway to his dorm now, and Eddie suddenly felt like he didn’t want the walk to end. Usually when he was with Bill, he couldn’t wait to get home, but when he was with Richie, he wanted it to drag out. Maybe it was because Eddie had been harbouring a secret crush for the class's comedian since they met at the end of his first year. Maybe it was also because Eddie thought that Richie might have had a crush on him too. It was that thought that made Eddie say what he said next, “You could buy me breakfast?” He asked.

Richie’s eyebrows disappeared above his hair and another smile broke out onto his face, “Eddie Kaspbrak, are you asking me to ask you on a date?” The smile had now turned into a smirk as Eddie shrugged and continued to walk. “You are! My my, I am flattered!”

“You could just have said no,” Eddie mumbled, keeping his head down, only for Richie to stop him by taking hold of his elbow.

“Hey, I didn’t say no,” Richie whispered, tilting Eddie’s head up so their eyes could meet. “Sorry- I tend to make stupid jokes when I’m nervous, and before you say anything, yes...you make me nervous.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You’re pretty amazing actually and I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while but...I was under the impression Denbrough was your boyfriend.”

Again, Eddie gagged at the thought and he shoved Richie back, “You- you need to stop bringing that up or I will actually barf right here on the sidewalk. Do you want that? Do you want to be responsible for me being sick all over the place where people walk?” He raised an eyebrow before laughing and starting to walk again.

“You are insufferable!” Richie called after him, jogging a little to catch up. By this point, they were basically at Eddie’s building and he came to a stop. “Is this you?” He asked, looking up at the dorm building. “Fancy, real classy dorm you have here.”

Eddie rolled his eyes a little, “Yours can’t be too different, right? Since you live close by? All the dorms in this area are the same.” He looked at Richie for confirmation, but this time it was his turn to avoid eye contact. “Richie? You- you do live around here...right?”

With a nervous chuckle, Richie lifted his eyes, “Funny story uh...my dorm is actually all the way on the other side of campus.” He smiled a little and Eddie’s eyes widened in shock. “Look don’t panic, it’s fine! I didn’t want you walking home alone and I also...really wanted to spend some time with you. Which I did by the way and I realised you are just as amazing as I knew you were. Please don’t be mad at me.”

“I- I’m not mad at you, Richie,” Eddie whispered, looking back down the path that was dark and...empty. “I just- now you have to walk all the way back by yourself. It’s not safe.”

Richie shook his head, “I’ll be fine. I’m going to walk to that road end over there, and all a cab to take me to my dorm. I had it all planned out. Now you just- head inside and I will see you tomorrow...for breakfast.” He smiled down at Eddie. “A breakfast date...if you’re interested.”

Eddie smiled softly, “Oh I’m very interested,” he whispered and pulled Richie into a hug. “Thank you...so much. You’re really amazing too.” He pulled back, a blush on his cheeks and pulled out his phone, passing it to Richie. “Put your number in, and give me your phone...I’ll put mine in too.”

Once they had exchanged numbers, Eddie smiled and turned to head into his dorm. Eddie heard Richie’s footsteps walking away and he paused on the step before turning around. “Richie wait!” He called out, running down the steps and then the few feet over to where Richie was standing. “You forgot something.”

“Wha-” Richie started, but was cut off as Eddie pushed up on his toes, bringing their lips together in a very soft kiss. When he caught on to what was happening, Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist, lifting him off the ground as he kissed him back, one hand moving from his waist to bury itself in Eddie’s hair. When they pulled back, breathing a little heavier and cheeks flushed, Richie exhaled, “Wow.”

“Goodnight Richie,” Eddie smiled, this time turning around and actually going into his dorm. Once he reached his room he closed the door, letting out a deep breath and sliding his back down the frame until he was sitting down. A squeal left his lips as he kicked his legs just a little in happiness.

Thank you, Bill!

* * * * *

@bi-bi-richie @bovaque @derrylosers @eds-trashmouth @eduardoandale @girasol-eddie @halfway-happy353 @inthebreadbinwrites @its-stranger-than-you-think @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @lifesucksheres20bucks @lermanslogan @loserslibrary @losers-gotta-stick-together @madidraw @mars-14 @marsisaplanetyall @moonlightrichie @njess04 @no-she-wasnt-reddie @oldguybones @overcastedhills @pink-psychic @percejackson @purplepoisonedgem @rebecca-the-queen @reddie-to-cryy @reddiesetandgo @richietoaster @roobarrtrashmouth @rreddies @s-onora @s-s-georgie @sedanleystanley @sloppybitchreddie @spirited-marvel @stellarbisexual @studpuffin @sunxcherries @that-weird-girls-blog @thegoshdiddlydangdoor @thejadeazalea @thorn-harvester-ven @tinyarmedtrex @tozier-boy @tozierking @toziesque @trashmouthtozierr @twoidiotsinl0ve @violetreddie @wilding-throught-thehallways @xandertheundead

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #writing tag

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sweetest-honeybee · 4 years

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“Wow, Logic really threw you out the window, Roman!”

Fic inspired by @5am-the-foxing-hour ‘s post about Roman attempting to fight with each of the other Sides :)

TW: Fighting obvs and a bit of blood mention (Logan bouta kick Roman’s ass) and Remus and Deceit are in this so read at your own risk if you’re not one for kinda violent themes and brief mentions of bugs. This is kinda angsty but it ends with a logicality hug :)

Characters: All the sides are at least mentioned in some way (But Logan and Roman are mains)

Summary: After fighting with Patton, Roman decides to try to fight Logan. Logan takes up his offer and despite early failures and probably some broken ribs, the teacher gives the cocky prince what he deserves.....one hell of a violent tantrum and a broken nose.

Enjoy!

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“Patton you can’t just hug people mid battle! It’s distracting!”

“Oh...but isn’t that kinda of the point? Don’t I win?”

With the fourth round ending, Roman simply sighed through his nose. Patton looked up at him with an oddly curious gaze but it was the puppy eyes nonetheless. Roman couldn’t tell him he had basically lost for the past four rounds by hugging Roman while his fists were visible.

He could admit that Patton’s little tactic would be a bit useful in some kind of hand-to-hand combat. He had a hug strong enough to pin your arms to your chest and keep you form moving despite his small size. Roman wondered for a second of the father figure kept a layer of muscle under the chubbiness of his cookie-filled body.

“Yes, Patton, you win,” Roman decided. Patton’s eyes lit up and a grin spread across his face. He clapped happily and cheered for himself.

“Yay!”

Roman ruffled his hair and brough them both back to the living room where Logan resided.

“Logan, I won!”

“You did? Oh- I mean of course you did. Roman isn’t one for tactics anyway, I’m not very surprised.” Roman eyed Logan with a glare.

“Well actually, Logan-“

“Yeesh, why were you fighting Patton?”

Everyone’s attention was brought to the grumbly voice on the stairs. Turning to it, Virgil sat slouched on last step. “I mean, it’s no surprise to me either that he won. Roman’s an idiot.”

“Hey!”

Virgil shrugged, Patton took off for a celebratory cookie, Logan simply continued drafting the schedule he was working on.

“Well if you’re so high and mighty, I propose that we fight as well. What could you possibly be good at?”

Virgil chuckled. “I’m fight or flight. Besides, don’t forget that I lived with your brother for years.”

Roman’s eyes widened. Either Virgil would be smart since Deceit also had his own ways with combat or Virgil could murder him in a heartbeat because of Remus. The Duke had no sign of any kind of thought process in a fight since he’d usually ran at Roman screaming at the top of his lungs and swinging his morning star frantically at the Prince’s face.

And besides, Roman already fought Deceit both for practice and other personal reasons. Virgil was practically Deceit’s spitting image from time to time. A fight with Virgil would only end in inevitable predictability much to what he couldn’t decide if it was his advantage or dismay.

Roman huffed. “Right, I’ll....pass thank you. Besides, you have your creepy magical spider legs, so you’d probably use it to your unfair advantage anyways.”

Virgil scoffed and smirked. “Sure.” The trait pulled out his phone and began scrolling.

Roman pouted at the new lack of attention and looked around the room briefly. His eyes landed on a Logan who sat, still scribbling in notes on each date. He didn’t need to even look up to know that Roman was staring right at him with a sudden grin on his face. An obvious idea came to the Teacher’s mind.

“I’m not going to fight you, Roman.”

Roman gasped in mock offense, groaned, and flailed his arms like a toddler. “Why not?! It’d not like it would be a slow fight, I’d kick your ass within the first ten seconds!”

Logan raised a single brow and glanced at the Prince. “Right,” he replied sarcastically. He continued to write in more and more dates onto the calendar.

The Prince then had another idea. “What, you don’t believe me?”

“No.”

“You wanna bet?”

“No.”

“Bet you can’t even hold a sword correctly.”

Virgil and Patton both chuckled at Roman’s attempts. But even they knew where this was going to go. And they knew that Logan couldn’t stand to be incorrect. He always had to go and prove himself.

Logan sighed through his nose. “I can hold one correctly, actually.”

“Right right, suuurree, but you’d still lose anyways. You’re a teacher! What kind of teacher knows how to fight! You’d be too weak for me to feel a punch.”

“Roman, I’m not fighting. Also there’s plenty of teachers who know how to fight.”

“I dunno Logan. If you don’t do it, Roman will ultimately be correct and you will not. Besides, how cool would it be to see you kick his ass,” added Virgil.

“Yeah what Virgil said minus the profanity!” also added Patton

Logan thought for a second and groaned loudly. “Fine,” he decided. “We will fight under one condition.”

Roman grinned and became giddy. “Anything.”

“I win and I get your entire sector of control for a week.”

“Psh, alright its a deal. Okay so, we’re gonna do hand to hand like I did with Patton. All fighting styles are permitted but I will go with my own tactics.”

“Hand to hand won’t include pulling a dagger out of your pocket.”

“I....will use my other tactics but considering your height, weight, and general lack of a drive to do more than read books, I might just go easy on you.”

“Sure.”

“But uh...you might want to change into something more comfortable.” Logan rolled his eyes and the two, along with Patton and Virgil as their audience, sunk down and reappeared in the Imagination. Around them was a large open warehouse with several mats covering the floor. Weapons of all kinds lined the walls.

“Watch out, DeeDee!”

......Conveniently, both Remus and Janus were there, too.

“Yeesh, when were you into being here, Jan? Thought sweat and blood wasn’t classy enough for your taste,” asked Virgil.

“Hardy har har,” Janus replied in a monotone voice. He ducked from another ninja star just a rely missing his hair. “Remus didn’t want some practice.”

“Mhm, sure. Logan is gonna kick Roman’s ass in a fight.” Remus and Janus stopped their activities to listen with a sudden curiosity.

“Oh?” Janus glanced at Roman and Logan with a raised brow. “Is that so.” He practically scanned the teacher up and down. “I totally couldn’t see that happening.”

Roman scoffed. “Wow, okay, and how would you know that?”

“I have my ways. But at least he reads up on it. Being ‘Light’ Creativity doesn’t take away the fact that you’re all brawn and no brain, sweetie.”

“Uh hellooooo, I don’t need a brain to fight. As long as I’m stronger than him, I’ll beat him.”

“Tell that to the girls taking defense classes to beat up rapists...” Remus muttered. “Anyways! I wanna see this. I always beat Roman in a fight too and I’m shorter than he is. My money is on Teach.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “Sure, anyone else wanna place their bets while we’re all here shitting on my fighting skills?”

“Logan.”

“Logan~”

“Logan!”

“Certainly Roman.”

“I’m certain I will probably win.”

Roman just stared at the teacher. “You can’t place a bet on yourself, also HEY! I want some support too!”

“Room for one more?” The group turned and stared at the familiar voice. There stood Thomas.

“What? Why are you here?” asked Roman. “I mean, feel free to stay but don’t you have things to do?”

“I just told them I wasn’t feeling good so I went and took a nap.”

Janus chuckled. “Wow, a lie? I’m surprised.”

Thomas glared at the liar but continued. “All I keep thinking about all day is fighting people so I wanted to see what was up with all of you.”

“Roman fought Patton and decided he was gonna try to deck Logan. But Logan is gonna kick his ass!” Remus explained enthusiastically.

“Awe, hush now, Remus, Roman is clearly confident in himself,” replied Janus sarcastically.

“And I will! You guys will see!”

Thomas snorted and shook his head. “Don’t worry, Roman, I’m rooting for you. No offense to Logan.”

“None taken.”

“Alright, is anyone else joining us before we start?” The group shook their heads in unison. “Good.”

With the snap of his fingers, the pair were clothed in T-shirts and basketball shorts along with Logan’s glasses now replaced with contacts. Behind them along the wall appear a small set of bleachers for their audience to watch from. Roman and Logan walked towards the center of the taped down circle in the mat’s center and the rest of them waited patiently.

After a bit, the fighting pair crouched slightly and prepared to fight with Thomas’s cue being their start. With the sound of the Host’s voice, Roman and Logan ran towards each other.

.....And within three seconds, Roman had the teacher pinned to the floor with the wind knocked out of him and a bunch of faces full of concern from their crowd. A classic tackle on the first round, but Roman proved his size advantage.

“Ow....”

“Point for me! Prepare for round two, Lo.”

Slowly, Logan pulled himself from the floor. The two crouched once more and waited for Thomas’s signal.

“I think I already taste blood.”

“All part of fighting!”

“Go!”

The fight was a bit longer this time. It took at least twenty seconds for Roman to, once more, get Logan to the floor. And once again, using his size. At first Logan tried to punch him in the throat, a common tactic. But inevitably, Roman blocked the hit, grabbed his arms, and in one spin threw the teacher with brute force out of the taped circle and off of the mat onto the concrete.

“Oh...that really looked like it hurt...” hissed Patton.

Logan only groaned in response and writhed on the floor. “Ngh....I need a break, Roman...”

“No breaks in a fight, Lo-“

“Oh please, let the kid get some water,“ Virgil interrupted. “You threw him onto concrete, and at this rate, he won’t be breathing by round four.”

Logan sat up. “There will be a round four....?”

Roman smirked devilishly, and nodded almost too happily at Logan’s question that Remus found himself a little surprised at Roman’s minimal sadism. Patton moved to get the teacher water and the rest of them started contemplating whether or not they really believed that Logan would win in a fight against Roman. The Prince strutted over to the group with the grin still on his face.

“Told you I’d win!”

“Can’t believe I of all people am saying this but go easy on him, Ro,” Remus said. “You’re going to kill him and that’s kinda my job, dude. You kill monsters, not teachers.”

“Yeah, I’m with Remus on this one I’ll admit. I didn’t think you’d go so hard on him...” added Thomas.

Roman huffed. “He should’ve expected it.”

“Yeah, but he’s not a paper plane, hun, we don’t throw people,” replied Janus. “We’re trying to avoid concussions and paperwork.”

“But you’re not....nevermind. What Janus said. At least let him live,” muttered Virgil.

“Sure sure, but I’m not giving him my sector for a week so he’ll have to try harder.” The three grimaced at Roman’s naivety and sudden arrogance but let it go on nonetheless; Logan was resilient after all. While Roman could certainly even stab him in the throat, the object impermanence would only land Logan with nothing more than the faintest scar.

“I’m ready.” The boys perked up at Logan’s admittedly spotless body. Where once bruises were forming on his cheeks and elbows were just minor red marks. “Shall we start?”

“Cocky, are we?”

“Hehe....cock-y...”

Roman rolled his eyes at his brother and lead Logan to the mat once more. This time, Logan seemed more concentrated, yet a bit irritated, for lack of a better word. For good reason, Roman was sure. They crouched and Thomas cued their fight again.

Round three ended with a strong kick to Logan’s ribs.

Round four ended with three of Logan’s lost teeth.

Round five called another break for Logan’s now broken finger. The prince only grinned at his violent accomplishment and this time, Janus smacked him over the head to tell him that he’s an idiot.

“Keep this up and I’ll fight you myself, you hear me? Break another bone on his body and so help me, I will strangle you to death and that is not an exaggeration.”

“Sure, Jan.” Janus glared intensely at Roman after his basic comeback. A reference, of course.

”Oh he’s not exaggerating, he did it to me once because I put a sacks worth of centipedes and maggots in his bed once.” Roman snorted at Remus’s addition but gulped thickly.

“Logan- Logan, wait, I haven’t wrapped your finger yet-!”

The three turned their attention to a very angry looking, quite possibly furious, Logan stalking towards them. Patton and Virgil trailed behind quickly with worried expressions. Thomas simply watched and made direct eye contact with Roman. He mouthed a few words and sunk out to the real world.

You’re done for.

Romans eyes widened as the teacher took his shirt by the collar and dragged him to the circle.

“Logan- Logan, wait, let’s talk about this-“

“Fight. Now.”

Ready for a cue, Logan crouched and this time...he may kill Roman. Even Remus recognized that murderous glare emitting from Logan’s eyes and he smiled. Grinned, even. He knew what was coming for Roman and he was going to enjoy every second of it.

“Logan, go easy on him, bud. I know you’re probably mad-“

“Just make the call, Patton. I know what I’m doing, now.” Patton gulped.

“Alright, if you say so,” the father figure flinched at the word that left his mouth. “Go!”

A few steps forward from Logan and Patton couldn’t bare to watch. He covered his eyes and turned away, hiding from the sudden screech escaping Roman’s lips and ducking into Janus’s back, startling the other.

It happened for about a minute, but everyone would swear that the sixteen punches and three kicks delivered to various areas of Roman’s body happened in a single second. By the end of it when Patton came out from behind the snake faced side, he could only gasp at the sight.

Admittedly, Remus chuckled both because of the pair’s current position but also that Roman was cupping his nose with scrunched eyes.

Logan straddled the prince’s waist and he held himself up with his arms on Roman’s chest. Blood seeped out of his lips and he hung his head low, panting with shallow breaths. Not a hit seemed to have been laid on him, besides his mouth. He lifted his head slightly and took a glance at Roman, still on the floor holding his nose. Quiet cries escaped the prince and Logan’s eyes widened.

“Oh dear god, I’m sorry Roman, I don’t- I don’t know what happened-“ the logical facet moved quickly off of Roman and the prince sucked in a well needed breath. He pulled Roman from the floor into a sitting position. “Are you alright?”

Roman took his hands away from his face. Logan, and the others who slowly walked closer to the pair, gasped. Blood practically poured in buckets from his nose and mouth. His eyes were puffy and red, his nose a bit crooked, and his face wet with painful tears.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?!” Doman winced at the shouting. “Roman, I broke your nose! I can heal from these things in seconds and you can’t, what on earth are you apologizing for?!”

“For being a dick, Logan! I don’t care how much you can heal from that kinda stuff, it’s kind of an asshole thing to to do beat the shit out of your friends for fun!” Roman huffed and pouted. “I was being rude to you and I hurt you.”

“Wow, and it took you a broken nose to realize that?” Remus scoffed. “Dumbass. Get up, I know a witch that can help.”

“No, I deserve it. I have to live with the injuries.” Remus rolled his eyes.

“Oh don’t be so fucking dramatic. That’s Janus’s job-“ Janus squinted at Remus “-Besides, not everyone is very comforted with you enduring weeks of nose repair and I’m not gonna listen to you whine every day so come on.” Remus took Roman by the sleeve and sunk out with him. Roman only spared a sympathetic frown at Logan before doing so.

“What even was that, Logan?” Logan winced at Virgil’s question.

“I don’t know, but I have to make up for it. Italian is romans favorite meals, I’m sure he’d like that.”

“Don’t avoid the question-“

“Look, Virgil, I don’t know what happened. I don’t hardly even recall half of it at the moment.”

“You were angry, weren’t you. Because he kept winning?” Logan looked up at a teary eyed Patton. “I know he was mean but he didn’t deserve that.”

“I know he didn’t. I don’t believe he did, not...ever, really. Just adrenaline I guess. And it wasn’t because he was winning. I couldn’t care less if he won, to be honest. But like I said, I need to make it up to him.” Logan stood from his crouched position. “It’ll be alright, I’m sure he’ll be fine, Patton.”

Patton sniffled and looked down to the floor. “Right...”

Logan cleared his throat. “Um, if it’s any consolation, his healing only takes two or three weeks.”

Patton still stared downwards. Virgil and Janus shared worried expressions.

Logan sighed. “I um- I may be the last person right now for you to want this from to feel free to say no but, while I’m not one for empathy and affection would....would you like a hug? I’ve read that hugs can increase dopamine levels.”

Patton snorted. Wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around the logical side’s waist. Logan quite firmly hugged him back but at least it was some form of comfort.

Virgil and Janus both chuckled at the two but it was cute nonetheless. They both sunk out, leaving Logan and Patton alone.

“I promise, Patton, Roman will be perfectly fine. I’m not great with sympathy or empathy but I can ‘up his spirits’ by.....a Disney movie marathon I suppose.”

“And spaghetti.”

Logan chuckled. “And spaghetti, I’ll make a note of it.”

#thomas sanders #thatsthat24 #sanders sides #janus sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #fic #my fic #violence tw #blood tw #insect mention

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brianc521 · 4 years

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Valentines | CEO Peter

Peter was a classy man. He wasn’t one that went for cliches and he wasn’t one to fall for the world's antics on celebrating a ‘day of love’ just as a ploy to spend money on candy and flowers.

Last year, since you were in love with the idea of valentine's day, he agreed to take you to dinner, allowed you to dress him up and then dress him down at the end of the night.

Hearts and flowers weren’t totally this thing, or well at least not in public.

This time around? Different story.

Peter is really lovesick. He is head over cufflinks in love with you. You’re wearing his ring, and your initials are tattoo’d just behind his ear. He is devoted to you, and he wants you to know that. So he might have gone a little crazy. It really didn’t help that he hasn’t seen you all week.

You’ve been in Ohio, with he who shall not be named, on a work business trip. You were meant to be home yesterday morning, but weather loves to fuck things up. Your plane was delayed and you didn’t end up getting into town but around 3 am this morning. Since your brother lives just around the corner from the airport, and you and Peter live a good 45 minutes away, it just made sense to crash at Ashtons.

Peter understood, and really didn’t want you driving that far while being dead tired, he needed you safe. With that said, it still really sucked to spend yet another night alone in the cold sheets.

Soooooo, that amped up his wanting to do something special for you.

The man not only had the whole store catered for breakfast for you and your employee’s, he also had your office completely filled with dozens of bouquets of roses and sunflowers (your two most favorite flowers).

But that’s not all. You kept finding little gifts everywhere. Opening your desk drawer to grab a notepad left you munching on a box of chocolates. Accepting the shipment for the day had you hugging a 6 ft teddy bear.

You called him once the shipment guys left, leaving you alone in the back of the shop.

“Mrs. Mendes, Happy Valentine’s day!” Stan answers cheerfully.

“Hi Stan! Happy Valentine’s day to you too!”

“Thank you Mrs. Mendes.”

“He busy right now?” You ask, chewing on your thumb nail.

You hear some shuffling and a murmured voice. “He’s about to step into a meeting, he’s walking past me as we speak.”

“My wife?” You hear in the background, and then suddenly his voice fills your ear. “Hi Baby.”

“Hi Love.” You sigh, melting into your seat from the sound of his voice alone. “I don’t wanna keep you.”

“Please do.” He responds.

“Bad meeting?”

“A fire is about to go out.” He nods, using some code to tell you he’s about to fire someone.

“Oh, well then call me after.”

“Or better yet, I’ll pick you up after.” He quips.

“Um,”

“I got the rest of the day off.” He bribes.

“Okay, when should I expect you.” You grin.

“Really? You can come?”

“Baby, I’m the boss, I can leave if I want. I’ve just spent the week working for this place in a different state.”

“It’s sexy when you say things like that.” You hear a gag and then Peter’s rough chuckle. “Fuck off Stan.”

You smile and bite your lip, taking notice of how good of a mood he’s in.

“Well? Am I ditching this place or what?”

“Be ready in 30, this fire won’t take long.”

“Okay, and Mr. Mendes?”

“Yes?”

“You’re always sexy.”

He chokes a bit and you giggle as you hang up your phone, strutting your stuff off to the sales floor to tell Micheal you’ll be leaving soon.

You start running a little when you see him leaning against his 2019 Porsche 911. He looks too good to be true, and he’s all yours.

“Baby!” He cheers, standing up straight to catch you as you jump into his arms.

Your legs wrap around his waist, locking your ankles at the small of his back. His arms tighten as you bury your face in his neck, and he kisses your neck as he takes in a deep breath of your perfume. A plus from you working at a body shop, you always smell so good.

“Fuckin’ missed you.” He mumbles against your skin. “Don’t ever leave me for that long again.”

“I won’t, that was pure torture.”

He walks you around to the passenger side of his car, tapping your bum a few times to get you to hop down.

“Can I drive?” You grin at him, eyeing the car.

“If you’re good maybe I’ll let you someday, but today I have plans in store that are meant to be a surprise.” He says helping you into the seat. He shuts your door, walking around the car and slipping in himself.

“Can I have a kiss then?”

“You don’t even have to ask that question.” He hums, leaning over the console to plant his lips on yours.

“Thanks for my flowers, chocolates, and teddy bear. Although I don’t need a teddy bear, I already have you.”

“Okay, so you’re going to be extra cheesy today?” He raises his eyebrow at you as he pulls out of the parking garage.

“Me? You sir had me drowning in roses today.”

He grins, shaking his head. “I’ve arranged for Bailey to get your gifts at the end of the work day when the store closes. I don’t want him messing up your conversion walking in and out so much.”

You stare at him in awe and lean over to kiss his cheek. “The team says thank you for breakfast, and I’m saying thank you for being an incredible husband.”

“Speaking of that.” He clears his throat. “We keep calling each other husband and wife.”

“Yes we do and it confuses the hell out of everyone, I love it.” You giggle.

“What if it didn’t anymore?” He inquired.

“What do you mean?”

“What if I told you we’d actually be married by the end of the night?”

“Really?”

“What if I told you Bailey was setting up an Officiant right now?”

“Really?” You squeal turning to him. “What about the wedding we’re already planning? You know with our Mom’s, the planner, the dress designer?”

“We’ll have that.” He nods. “But it’s taking too long to make you my actual wife. So what if we got married today, and again in a year when the wedding’s planned. We’ll know we’re already married, to everyone else they’ll celebrate our marriage, for us we’ll celebrate our anniversary?” He grins, looking at you.

“I think I’m in love with you, and that I’ll do anything you want.”

“Anything?” He teases.

“I mean a honeymoon has to happen right?” You tease back.

“Oh Baby you don’t even know what you just asked for.”

You stare at yourself in the mirror and smile. Peter had taken you to pick out a simple dress for tonight, then to a jeweler to pick out his and your ring, and then dropped you off at home with a stylist team to glam you the fuck up.

Bailey holds the door for you as you climb into the limo. Peter’s going full out tonight. Pulling out all the stops.

The drive to the venue is short, mainly because you’re heavy in your thoughts, but before you know it Bailey is opening the door for you and helping you out.

You’re handed a bouquet of roses and sunflowers while ushered into the dim building. A few of the stylists fuss about a few strands of your hair, and fix your dress a bit. When they finally have perfected your look they scurry away.

Music starts and Bailey appears to open the double doors for you. “Ready?” He asks softly.

“More than ready.” You smile at Bailey.

“You make a beautiful Bride Mrs. Mendes, thank you for being in our lives.” With that Bailey opens the door and watches you walk down the aisle.

Peter has booked out the most amazing venue, it’s empty, save for an arch in place behind Peter and the officiant. Raul and Shawn stand in the front row, both in nice slacks and a button up shirt. Raul’s in red, Shawn’s in yellow, matching your flowers. They both smile at you and watch you walk to Peter at the end of the aisle.

Before you know it Peter is dipping you down to kiss you fiercely, you’re named Mrs. Mendes, officially, and suddenly the world is just right. You finally feel like you belong in this crazy place.

“Congrats!” Shawn cheers, Raul whistling as Peter stands you back up, hand firmly gripping your ass.

You giggle as you pull away, turning towards the boys. Peter kisses your cheek and is ready to whisk you off, but you laugh harder as you stare at Shawn and Raul.

“What are you laughing at Sis?” Raul asks.

“You look like Ketchup and Mustard.” You lose it when they stare at each other and laugh too. Peter lets out a good belly laugh and shakes his head.

“Let’s go, I’m ready to take my wife home, and kick these losers out.” He tugs you down the aisle.

“Oh we can at least get the McDonalds boys dinner.” You giggle, cackling at the fact that your jokes are just gonna keep on rolling.

“Wow, make her a Mendes and she suddenly feels like she can tease you.” Shawn says to Raul, nudging his elbow.

Raul grins and rushes towards you and Peter, swooping you up over his shoulder, twirling in circles. “Oh Sis, what’s the matter? Feeling a little dizzy?”

“Raul stop!” You laugh, hitting his back repeatedly.

“Raul.” Peter stands straight, crossing his arms over his chest. “Put my wife down before something seriously happens to you.”

“Ooh, scary.” Raul scoffs, setting you back on your heeled feet. You sway and reach for Peter as you try to regain your footing.

Peter swings you up into his arms, holding you with one arm under your back and the other under your knees.

“What is with you two and picking me up?” You ask, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“It’s customary for the groom to walk his wife over the threshold.”

“We’re not home though.” You point out with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m practicing then.” He grins, leaning down to kiss you softly.

“Okay, we don’t need to see you practice for the honeymoon.” Shawn gags.

Peter rolls his eyes, looking to Bailey as you all step outside. “Bailey, take Mickey-” He points to Shawn, “And Dee-” He points to Raul, “Home so I can take my wife away from the greasy mess they are.”

“Haha.” Shawn rolls his eyes. “Very funny dickhead.” Raul shakes his head. “You wanted us to match her flowers, we were good brothers and followed your orders. Should be thanking us.”

Peter smiles, looking at his brother, setting you down and engulfing each in a huge hug. “I do thank you. Thanks for being the witnesses to the greatest achievement of my life.”

Each brother wraps you up in a big hug, leaving you with your Husband.

“Well Mrs. Mendes,” Peter holds your hand as he leads you to his Porsche. “What do you say about driving me to the beach house?”

“I get to drive?”

“I told you if you were good you could.” He nods opening the drivers side for you.

“And if I want to be bad?”

“Oh Baby you’ve got a whole mini honeymoon to be bad.”

“Mini honeymoon?”

He nods, leaning against the car. “Beach house this weekend, alone. Month in Bora Bora once you’re settled at work.”

You raise your eyebrows, grinning at him. “So I have a lot of time to be bad.”

“Do your worst Mrs. Mendes.”

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slashingdisneypasta · 4 years

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Sheriff Hoyt / Charlie Hewitt x Reader || Oneshot

Title: Twenty Years Separated and Getting Divorced

Notes:

This is inspired by Sweet Home Alabama, with Reese Witherspoon and Josh Lucas.

Plot: After 20 years you finally come back to the town you grew up in, which is now basically non-existent except for a couple ghost buildings and wild cows to find your husband and his family, who are the only ones crazy enough to still live there, and get your fucking divorce finalised.

Warnings: Swearing, divorce?

~~~

Hoyt sees me strolling up to the house before I even reach the porch. Our eyes meet, a short moment of nostalgia passes quickly- and World War 3 begins.

“Well, hi to you too! Just fabulous to see you, after… half a goddamn century.” Charlie gets up from his seat on the porch and now stands up to 5 feet taller than me… because he’s still on the god forsaken porch and I’m the ground. Goddamn, his ego’s still as big as that ridiculous hat that he’s wearing now. Since when is he sheriff? He didn’t even go to college- I know; I’ve been married to him since we were 18. “Fucking city slicker.”

My jaw falls open. City slicker?? “You know damn well I grew up right here, you two-bit drama queen. And I live in Alice Springs now. Maybe it ain’t your country but it is still butt crack nowhere, you old fucking coot!” After a second, I also say. “And I’m not even 50 years old yet, you asshole!”

“Pft.” He chews on something in his mouth, maybe his cheek, and sets his jaw. “You lived here, what? 20 years ago then? If you wanna get specific about it.” Okay, that’s better, more accurate at least, but I could’ve done without the attitude. “You lived somewhere else more than half your life- don’t go gettin’ excited and acting like you’re a local.”

I mean, going by that logic I’m a fuck-ton more southern then he is- Australia’s as southern as it gets without living in Antarctica. But I digress. We need to get this show on the road.

“I did not come all the way here to argue with you Charlie.” I roll my eyes and sigh deeply, stomping up the porch stairs to meet him at the top, scrunching up my shoulders and feeling slightly sick when he leans over the steps a moment later and spits thick brown shit into the dirt. Why is he always spitting? Why! If he has excess saliva like that, he should go get himself checked out! And if he’s chewing tobacco, then he fucking needs to stop! Restraining myself from saying so though by taking a deep breath as he straightens up again, I instead hold out the A4, manilla yellow envelope that encases our divorce papers - already signed by me, - to him… which he just looks at, of course. Difficult, ancient bastard. “I’ll pay!”

“Is that your way of askin’ for a divorce, honey bear?”

“Why, yes.” I smile, already feeling the relief of cutting ties from this man.

“Then I sweetly decline.” The smile is wiped off my face, and sketched onto his instead. He turns around and goes on into his home, letting the screen door slam shut hard behind him, too, after he gets in.

I sigh in frustration, close to a scream and stand there uselessly for a second before barging in after him and am about to yell for him to get back here, before a rustling sound alerts me to the door on my right and Luda Mae comes out of it. Closing it carefully shut behind her.

Immediately, my mood calms down considerably and I feel a startling, familiar warmth in my chest. The mood Charlie put me in just a second ago all but disappears seeing her. “Luda Mae!”

The moment she realises it’s me, she beams. “Oh, dear. I thought I heard you arguing outside with Hoyt, but I didn’t believe it!”

“Hoyt?” I blink, still smiling but in a confused way. Am I missing something?

“O-oh, I meant Charlie. Sorry, baby.”

After a tight hug we let go and assess each other.

I’m happy to see that she looks healthy. A little sweaty and tired, but she’s always been that way. It’s hard to not be, living here. It’s hot all day, every day - hell, they barely have winter in this part, -, and she’s never really been a summer kind of girl. I suggested to her a couple times that she could move away, but she always said that this is where their family had always lived- and they will always live here. Its where Charlie got it from.

I’m just getting to her eyes, and noticing of course immediately, the sad change in them from the last time I was here and forming a way to ask her if she’s okay when she tucks some grey hair behind her ear and asks me how I am. To be polite of course, I answer. Expecting to ask her the same right after.

“Aw, I’m doing just fine! Trying to get your stubborn son to give me a divorce, but apart from that life’s treating me well. I would love it if you could come visit me sometime in Australia, I have a guest bedroom where I picked the wallpaper and I just know you would love it. Soon as I looked at it, it was so you!” Her eyes brighten at the idea and she’s about to, bashfully decline I’m guessing, but Charlie stomps heavily down the old wooden stairs again like the attention seeking hippopotamus that he is. Has to let everyone know he’s entering. I roll my eyes. “Why don’t you just get a career on the stage, Charlie; They’ll announce your entrance for you. Jee-sus. Save you some time!”

He flashes me an unimpressed and joyless smile, as Luda Mae covers her mouth - not to hide her laughter from her son, but to be polite. She’s classy; I always liked that about her. In fact, I tried to be just like her growing up… I failed, but I still admire the quality on her, - and laughs a bit at my quip. Pride blossoms in my chest and makes me smile wider.

“You keep sweet talking me like that and I’ll never divorce you.”

My smile turns into a scowl and glare. “What do you want from me?”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?” He stops beside Luda and drops the barrel of his shotgun back against his shoulder, like a soldier in Buckingham palace. What does he need that for right now?! “Besides, I’m too expensive for you darlin’.”

“I hate you.” I say slowly, so it gets through his skull and he understands. “And you hate me.” He nods in agreement, still looking far too smug and pleased with himself. “So why can’t we get divorced and never talk again?!” I fail to see a downside!!

“Cuz I like to see your feathers all ruffled.”

“You-“ A slew of insults are about to break free of my lips, but a loud, popping bang comes from the kitchen like something tried to get out, making me look startled from the closed door to the room, to Charlie and Luda Mae. “What was that!?”

“Well… “Charlie looks thoughtful for a second, like he truly doesn’t know what to tell me, before slowly turning his gaze on Luda. “I believe Momma just blew up her pie.”

“Wha- “For half a second, Luda Mae looks like she’s about to slap her son all the way to Tim Buk Tu, before smoothening out her features again and turning back to me. Pasting an honestly believable, bashful smile on her face and speaks in a restrained voice that gives away her displeasure. “Yes. Must have lost track of time.”

Well, clearly that’s a bare faced lie. “Nice try. Charlie can pull off a lie like that, but you cant, Luda. What is it?”

Her smile softens and in two seconds she has smacked Charlie -not enough to hurt. It’s just a warning slap for trying to make her sound like a bad baker when we all here know how great she is, - and takes my arm in hers, guiding me across the hall and into the living room. “Really darling, its nothing. Thomas’ havin’ a bad day. I’m sure he’ll buck right back up though when he sees you! Are you going to stay for dinner?”

Looking behind us, I squint dangerously at Charlie. “If Charlie won’t sign these now, I might not have a choice!” Turning back to Luda, I genuinely smile. “But I would genuinely love to stay and see Thomas and Monty too, and eat your cooking! Thank you for the invitation. Maybe I can help with dinner! I have gotten better since the last time I was here.”

Charlie scoffs at my words, walking in after me and beating us to the chairs. He drops down in a recliner while Luda sits us down on the couch together. “You mean when you broke my oven?” She grins, a cheeky glint in her eye and I sigh, embarrassed.

“Yes… “Giggling, I cover my face a moment before jumping back into the fray. “But I really have gotten better!”

“I’d love to see that dear.” And the great thing is, she really does seem to. She would give any number of chances just to see one of her kids - me included, even if I am just her daughter in law. For now, - succeed. For a moment the room is just silent, and I let myself remember what it was like to be here all the time - the good things, I mean. Don’t you worry though, I remember the bad things like fighting tooth and nail with Charlie better the anything, - and how that felt, before Luda claps her hands.

She doesn’t like emotional stuff, Luda. Charlie’s a drama queen, but that’s where the emotion showing stops in this family. Thomas takes after his mother in not being too emotional, ever, and Monty prefers to keep to himself. He always has, and he goes by that philosophy regarding everything. “Well, I’m assuming there’ll be no driving off after dinner- the airport is a solid 4-hour drive! And you will not be driving that long at night.” She sets me with a cold, stern look over her glasses for a moment and even though I’m a 40-year-old woman, I submissively nod to her like a teenager. “You’ll stay in the spare room! Hoyt- Charlie. Sorry. Go change the sheets in there, and I’ll go get Monty to give you company while I start up dinner! Chop chop.”

“Wh- Did you forget she’s here tryin’ t’ divorce me, Momma? I ain’t offering the bitch any pleasantries like that! -“

“You will and you will do it with your mouth shut, Charlie.” Luda Mae gets up to her feet and Charlie and I both crane our necks to see her face. She gets much quieter, and her gaze goes dark like a parents’ does when they’re pissed. “And watch your mouth.”

Charlie bows his head and gets up from his seat, going off to do as she says. “R-Right, momma.”

My grin gets so big it turns into a laugh, leaning back into the couch cushions as I watch Charlie walk off up the stairs, flipping me off when Luda leaves the room.

~~~TIME SKIP~~~

In the middle of the night, I get the bight idea to get the divorce done, immediately. If I don’t, I’ll just let time fly by again with Luda Mae and Monty, and Thomas who’s a grown up now, and I’ll never get it done. It has to be done now.

So I get out of bed, pull on my coat since I didn’t bring my dressing gown, grab the manilla file and a pen and leave the room. It doesn’t take me long to get to Charlie’s, seeing as its just down the hall, and I don’t knock before barging in. I close the door veeeeery slowly, and quietly, then sneak around to his side of the bed and take the shotgun that’s leaning against the bedside table, the handgun that sits on it, and the knife under his pillow- I still know my husband, thank you very much. And I know that if he hears someone in his room at night eh will not think or look, before shooting me in the head.

Dropping all the weapons carefully on the armchair in the corner of the room, no longer trying to be quiet as I sit down on the side of his bed that Charilie is not sleeping on. His eyes burst open at feeling the bed dip, and as he looks over to my form, his hand reaches out to grab the handgun of course, and… he calms down immediately to his cranky, exhausted, middle-of-the-night mess. “Y/N? What the fuck are you doing in here?? This ain’t your room anymore, piss off!”

“I know that, silly!” As he forces himself to sit up and carefully lean his back on the headboard, I hold up the manilla folder. I beam. “Just thought this would be a good time to get our affairs in order!”

“Well,” He takes a gulp from the water on his nightstand. He swallows it like it’s a rock, or a large pill. Is it even water? “You were wrong.”

“Au contrair, mon frair.” I grin, looking around behind me and on the other side of the room for something hard to write on. Ah! Hopping off the bed for a second, I grab a large hardbacked recipe book. “It is the perfect time! You’re sleepy, which makes you 90 percent more likely to be swayed into signing these papers.” I pop the book on his lap, along with the appropriate papers and the pen. “There you go; Now remember, once you sign these, we never have to look at each other’s faces, ever, again. Think about how lovely that’ll be.”

Still with the suspicious liquid at his chin, Charlie slowly raises his eyebrows at me. “Girl, you better get those papers off my lap right now or I’m gonna tear ‘em up.”

“Eep!” Immediately, I snatch them back. Then glare at him as he takes another sip of the drink. “Please.”

“Ain’t no good manners ever made any difference with me.”

I let out a deep sigh, in utter frustration at him.

I turn fully to him, completely comfortable seeing him in his bed shirt and boxers this way- it’s been 20 years and his hair’s going grey, but it still feels natural, fine, to be like this with Charlie. That does not, though, mean that I want to be here. I cross my arms, leaning my shoulder into the headboard. “Why? Why wont you divorce me? Do you hate me that much?”

“No, ‘sweetie’. I love you that much.” I watch him as he sets his jaw, takes yet another sip and glances at me. I gesture for the glass, and he hands it to me.

Taking a gulp as I turn to settle my back against the headboard, I’m pleased to find that the water is not actually water. It’s vodka. Good, I need this after a statement like that from Charlie. “No, you don’t.”

“Don’t try to tell me what I do or don’t know.” Taking the glass back from me when I finish it off, he sets it on the table. I can tell he’s still sleepy, and aching to go back to dreamland, as his words are gentler than usual, and his movements are a struggle. “Bottom line is, Y/N. I’m finally getting everything I every wanted- and I’m not gonna to let you slip through the cracks again.”

“Hard to believe, Charlie. You never tried to contact me during those, oh, 20 years I was gone?” Turning my head, I raise my eyebrows at him.

Groaning from the effort, he turns around in his spot, takes one pillow from behind him and gives it to me. “Yeah, well, I was a bit busy helpin’ Mama raise Tommy. I never stopped thinkin’ a’ you as my wife, though. You’re mine, sugar. Whether you like it right now, or not.”

“What’s this for?” I ask, holding the pillow with a confused look.

“Sleep. Its too damn late for this conversation.” My jaw drops, as Charlie lays back down in his bed and snuggles under the blankets, closing his eyes. “If you sleep here, we can talk about this as soon as we wake up; If you go to your room, you’ll have to wait til’ dinner. Then Mama’ll make you stay another night… I suggest you lay down.” With that, he pats the bed as if as an order, and after a moment of thought I groan. Evil, conniving bastard.

I take off my jacket and lay it at the end of the bed, then get under the covers and lay down my head on the pillow, half annoyed and half ready to sleep- it is late, after all. I am pretty tired. And one more night in bed with Charlie isn’t going to kill me, besides… him still loving me? The news does give me something new to think about. It… it needs to be factored in.

A moment passes where we just lay on the different sides of the bed, him with his eyes closed and probably 2 seconds from entering a hypnogogic state and me unable to get comfortable, before I sigh in frustration again and just decide to try something.

Crossing the space between us without warning, I wrap my arms around his middle in a hug, and press my face the nook between where his throat is and his shoulder, smelling a shock of his scent for the first time in 2 decades and closing my eyes to it, trying to ignore the fast paced beating in my chest.

Goddamnit, it worked. I’m comfortable as fuck now.

Charlie doesn’t comment, thankfully, and just makes a sleepy noise and reciprocates the cuddle, pulling my body closer to him by the waist. My heart beats extra fast at it, but I try to focus on going to sleep.

Cuddling with your soon-to-be ex husband and enjoying it means nothing, right? Haha… hopefully.

#Charlie Hewitt x Reader #Sheriff Hoyt x Reader #Luda Mae Hewitt #Monty Hewitt #Thomas Hewitt #Oneshot #Charlie Hewitt x Reader Oneshot #Sheriff Hoyt x Reader Oneshot

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baku-no-alt · 4 years

Text

sriracha sauce | 7

bakugou x reader; in which Bakugou and some other students from UA are doing a work -study abroad in NYC. also Bakugou is nice to you for once

cw: like, so many swears

As soon as your hear the door shut and the lock click, you stand up violently from your chair and clumsily walk to your room in a daze. You shut the door, and run to your bed, jumping on the mess of pillows and blankets, hugging a pillow close to your chest to stop from squealing.

You peek at your bedside table and see your phone there, charging. You grab it and open up the group chat you have with your three best friends in the city.

He asked me out, you text the group.

It takes less than a second before their chat bubbles pop up.

he what now

Baku???????

he’s so hot dude

A grin spreads across your face and you feel a blush creep up your neck. They ask you every question imaginable: when, where, what are you wearing, will you tell me what his arms feel like?

You hear Bakugou come home from work and step into the shower, but you don’t leave your room. You don’t want him to see you until it’s time to leave.

For your date.

You glance in the mirror again, admiring your handiwork. Your makeup was flawless, eyeliner pointed in two sharp wings. You had a black off-shoulder dress on, just long enough to be classy but short enough to be flirty. It fell flatteringly over the curve of your hips and the rump of your ass.

Just as you’re done touching up your lipstick, you hear a knock at your door.

“You ready or what?”

“Yeah!” you call back, sounding almost too eager. You walk to your door and pause with your hand on the doorknob. You lift your hand up to your face and inspect it.

You’re so nervous that you’re shaking.

Why?

It’s just Bakugou.

But still, even if it’s just a date, it feels like you’re standing on the edge of a threshold. When you cross over it, things might never be the same.

You take a deep breath and let it out, steadying yourself. Then you open the door.

Oh god.

He’s gorgeous.

He’s standing in your doorway, one arm pressed against the door frame, leaning in. He’s close, and you can smell his cologne, masculine and clean. He’s in a red dress shirt and a pair of slacks, and you never knew he could clean up so well.

“Hey,” you breathe out.

His lips creep into a cheeky half-smile. “You don’t look half bad yourself, princess.”

Your heart leaps into your throat as you experience this new, flirty side of Bakugou. It was so different. And weird. And you love it.

“Shall we?” you ask, raising your eyebrows.

“C’mon.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, his signature move, and you follow him out of your apartment.

Sandro’s is so close that you can walk. It takes about ten minutes, and on the way you ask Bakugou about his day at work and he tells you about the monotony of filing incident paperwork.

“I’ll have a sidekick to do it all for me, though.” He looks into the distance, as if looking into the future. He stretches his arms and holds them behind his head for a moment.

“Kind of a dick move to make your sidekick do all of that.” You nudge him with your shoulder.

He releases his arms, and one comes down to drape across your shoulders. His hand is warm, and you think about the all of the power that lies in it. That he could quite literally explode at a moment’s notice.

You mind gets cloudy and for a second you feel a twinge of guilt. Your ex had accused you of being with Bakugou - and he was right. But this wasn’t cheating, you remind yourself. He’s the one who cheated on you.

So why did being with Bakugou feel so natural? How did you go from seeing him as just a roommate to seeing him as romantic partner so quickly? You bite your lip and wonder how long your feelings for Bakugou had been lurking under the surface. Sure, you always knew he was hot, but-

“You coming in or are ya just gonna stand there?”

You snap out of your thoughts and see Bakugou holding the door open for you. You’d made it to Sandro’s.

You laugh nervously and step through the door.

“Do you have a reservation?”

“Yeah. Katsuki Bakugou.”

Hearing him say his given name is almost startling. No one calls him Katuski; the closest you had heard was Deku’s nickname for him.

You’re shown to your table for two. He sits across from you and opens the menu.

“You look very in your element,” you comment.

“My parents are designers. I had to go to a bunch of fancy dinners with them.”

You pick up the menu and try to look through the selections but your mind is fuzzy with nerves. You finally settle on some fettuccine bolognese and a buffalo mozzarella appetizer.

After the waiter takes your orders and your menus, you rest your hands on your chin and sigh.

“What?” Bakugou clicks his tongue.

“I’m just having a nice time on this stupid, idiotic date is all.” You give him a sarcastic smile.

“Bet you’re glad I let you win at Smash Brothers now, huh?”

“I still want a do-over. Play me again and I’ll beat you fair and square. I won’t even make you pay for dinner afterwards.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Bakugou folds his arms and gives you a smug smirk.

“What are you gonna do after this?” You take a more serious tone.

“After dinner?”

“No, after... the work study is over.”

“Oh.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“I’ve got some offers for different agencies after graduation. I haven’t decided which one I’ll take.”

You nod. “That’s great, though.”

“What are you gonna do?”

You swallow. “I’ve got a few things lined up in the intelligence field. I don’t know for sure yet either, though.”

“Let’s talk about something else,” he says flatly.

“We’re going to have to address it at some point. You’re only here for another three months.”

“We will. Just not tonight.”

You sigh and nod. “Okay.”

The food arrives, and between stuffing your face with pasta and mozzarella, you and Bakugou make small talk about hero work.

“I don’t go on big, dangerous adventures like you,” you mention at one point.

“Why not? It’s the best fucking part.”

“Because I can’t make explosions out of my bodily fluids.”

The couple at the table next to you turns their heads in your direction. You make eye contact with Bakugou and you both stifle a laugh.

“Whatever, we have plenty of useless extras in our hero course and they go on all the dangerous missions, too.”

You laugh. “Yeah, and I bet they get plenty of fighting time in with you and Deku around.”

“Not my fault I’m better than everyone else,” he mumbles.

You smile. “Want to get some dessert?”

“Yeah, I’ll get them to bring us a menu.”

You shake your head. “I know a better place.”

When you finish eating and Bakugou pays (and you thank him a hundred times; the tab was not small), you exit the restaurant and step onto the sidewalk.

“Where to?” he looks at you.

“C’mon. I know the best ice cream place.”

You hold out your hand, and he takes it. His palm feels warm in yours, and you squeeze his hand tightly as you pull him along with you down the street.

---

masterlist

@shareyourfandomfaves, @awkward-tamaki, @ha-tep, @reyna-avila-ramirez-alreanaldo, @ayeputita, @lookslikeleese, @alinakaisato, @loxbbg, @micheladakenzo, @bnhaismylife, @aurorahoneybuns, @anything-and-everything-here69, @overkill-is-underrated, @sizzlingbarbarianglitter, @squeaky-ducky

if I forgot to tag you please send me a reminder! I am bad at being online.

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #bakugou fanfiction

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jinxthequeergirl · 4 years

Note

1-20 for Ash since he's your groovy boy.

I'M CRYING THE TERM "YOUR GROOVY BOY" MADE MY HEART MELT TO A PUDDLE (i've had a real shit day this is the only think keeping me sane)

In other news i wasn't sure if you meant like 1 through 20 or like just 1 & 20 so i went with the first option just so i could talk about him more(1 through 19 cause two where pretty much the same) I also made sure to make sure this was as gender natural as possible so

Enjoy

1: Cuddling

Ahakakab

Ok firstly Ash?

Biggest cuddlier ever

He just loves the close contact

Spoon wise

He is the big spoon cause he feels like even when sleeping hes protecting you

He also likes two other ways

A: His head on your chest with your arms around him

Because lets face it he also deserves to feel safe and protected

B: facing you with yout limbs in a tangle

Cause he likes to look at/ admire you

You look so peaceful its one of his favorite sights

2: kissing + Favorite kiss

Ash can be a pretty rough kisser

Almost kinda like a "we might die and or never see eachother again so this is my last chance to do this" type of kiss

Sometimes you have to remind him slow down and that everything is ok and as it should be

When he remembers that hes a very passionate kisser

Like he kisses you slowly but just rough enough to be perfection

She said sighing wistfully

They can also be really playful

He'll dip you while kissing you

But also he peppers kisses all over your face while tickling you

his favorite kisses are french and neck kisses

3: Injured

He likes to make jokes about it

To lighten the mood

Just cause seeing you worried about him breaks his heart

But also to make himself feel better and help to not worry bout it to much

He secretly likes getting injured

You're always so sweet and gentel with him

And you give him special treatments ( ;) ya know what i mean?)

He also pretends he doesn't like it when you kiss his injuries cause its "childish"

But he loves it

When you are injured however its a completely diffrent story

Hes not as calm and collected as you can be

Hes angry, worried and very guilty

You can tell he blames himself because he doesn't crack any jokes like usual and hes always very quiet while he's trying to patch you up

"Kiss me better?" You ask

That makes him smile and he kisses your injuries softly just like you would

You don't blame him and you tell him that much

4:First Date

Ashely J. Williams is not

A fancy man

classy

Or a rich man

He's not one for flashy/fancy dinner dates

Your first date was some sort of take out

In his trailer

You actually really enjoyed it

Only because he made it enjoyable

After dinner the two of you kinda just laied on the floor and talked

Which was weird for ash cause he was more of a

Take someone on a date and get down to bussnies type of guy

But he actually felt connected enough to just sit and chat

5: First kiss

It happens on the hood of the delta on your second date

You where sitting there star gazing

Just talking again and when you looked over you saw him staring at you

"What?"

"Nothing...it's just...your so amazing.."

You only laugh at him

Before suddenly you felt his lips on yours stopping you

That was one of the first and only times hes ever taken his time kissing you

It was one of those gentel kisses that you just melted into

He cupped your cheek with his hand and his other pulled you closer

It was one where when he pulled away you chased after it not wanting it to end

*cheifs kiss* twas perfection

6:Training

Ash really did his best to keep you out of that part of his life

He didn't want any one else he cared about dying on him because of it

He loved you to much

But it came to a point where he decided it was better to be safe then sorry

He taught you how to use the boom stick

And you quickly became pretty handy with it

That along with teaching yourself how to use a series of other tools

Like knifes and axes

He found it really attractive to watch you work like that

7: akward moment

The first really akward moment between you was probably the use of "i love you" too soon

To be fair though everyone thought they where about to die

So when ash blurted "I love you!"

And found that you where still intact

It was slightly uncomfortable in the room for everyone when you responded with

"You've never said that to me before."

And nothing else

Not that you didn't love him back

You where just unprepared for it to happen like that

After avoiding eachother him mainly trying to play it off as if he didn't say that

And acting as if Ash williams never told prople he loved them

Once you finally git fed up enough with it you had to basically yell it back to him

He was very relieved and happy to hear it

8: Fighting

Fights can go one of two ways usually

One being no one gets anywhere ever in the argument

Your both so stuborn

And ash being ash who hates to admit when he's wrong and never owns up to his own actions

Just makes you more angry

Making the argument get heated further

This type of fight usually ends in an angry make out session where your both apologizing like crazy

The other way is again ash being ash

But instead making you cry

This ends the argument pretty quickly because the only thing that can make him own up to any thing is you crying

You tend to use this strategy a lot in order to keep him quite

But sometimes it can really make you cry

He always apologizes right away and pulls you in for a tight hug where he kisses the top of your head

And wipes away your tears

You both actually hate fighting and hate that it ever (though rarely) gets to that point

9:crying

Like I've mentioned before

Ash cannot stand the sight of his baby in pain of any type

Crying is one of the worst things hes ever had to deal with in his life

And hes delt with a lot

His only goal in life is to make sure you are happy, healthy and safe

He's also kinda shit when it comes to dealing with emotions

He won't ask whats wrong right away

Just kinda stand there awkwardly attempting to make you laugh

When and if that doesn't work he'll finally sit down next to you and put a protective arm around you and ask whats wrong

If you don't wanna talk?

Thats ok hes there when you're ready to

Hes not leaving any time soon until your happy again

He'll hold you close to him

Pulling you into his lap to hold you properly

And just lets you cry

When you do tell him whats the matter

Bet your ass that its taken care of right away

Cause anything that makes his perfect partner cry? Dosen't even get the right to exsist anymore

10: sleeping

You better believe ash has nightmares

And feels bad for waking you because of them

But you're very well aware it can be hard for him to sleep

So you are more than happy to stay awake with him for as long as it takes

Even if that means until the sun rises

Or you fall asleep in his lap hes ok with that its the thought that counted

Nights like that are nights when he likes to cuddle you with his head on your chest

You'll kiss his head, smooth his hair

And even sometimes talk or hum to him to calm him down

That usually does the trick of getting him back to sleep for a little while

Sometimes he'll wake up gently and find you peacefully asleep beside him

And he'll kiss your cheek, cover you up and lay back down

Cause knowing your still safe is enough to help him sleep too!

11: bathing/ showering

I don't think ash would get or understand the want and need for a bath

But if you can convince him to take at least one with you

Boom

Thats all he'll ever wanna do

Man has never once in his life had time to sit and relax

But this is something else

To have you with him to

Either sitting across him

Or laying against him makes it Much more enjoyable

Baths are very rare very special occasion things though

Showering is a more often occurance and also a spontaneous thing

And its a plus cause its not Always a sex thing with him

It can be a nice and romantic thing as well

Especially on rough days when he wants to relax in the shower but also talk

Your there to keep him company

12: First time

Honestly the first time was well into your relationship with each other

And it happened in the Delta

It wasn't like rough, extremely passionate or even a serious matter

It was More fun and... vanilla with lots of laughter

It was sweet

The purest form of sex honestly is when you can laugh and or talk during it

And you two being the two people you are

Plus car sex being a horrible idea to begin with

Made it all the funnier but better

I don't think ash ever knew you could actually have like legitamie fun doing it

Just another thing you helped him realize

His heart like seriously skipped a beat hearing you laugh the way you had that night

Yet another reason he knew he loved you

13: soft spot/ weakness

Ash's soft spots include

Tummy

Hips

Neck

Jaw

And that lil spot behind the ear but just under it

Kiss him there and hes Tapped out

Ashes weaknesses are

His partner just in general

If you've been with him this long

He warships you

Definitely an ass/leg guy though

Wear something reveling enough tonshow case both ass and leg

K.o.

14:Pregnancy/ Birth

You wouldn't ever have to worry about ash not wanti g to be a dad or not

So you'd tell him almost right away

Ash is gonna get teary eyed

He'll make some jokes

But he will get watery eyes

And you know how happy new dads get when they find out they are gonna be a dad?

That whole "I'm gonna be a dad!? I'M GONNA BE A DAD!"

Yea 100% ash

Hes lifting you off the floor and spinning you around cheering

About how theres gonna be a lilttle Ash jr. Running around

Hes definitely the kinda guy who likes to talk to the mommy tummy all the time

Bump or not

Everything is suddenly about the baby

Hes always on the look out for baby things

Buys everything

Hes probably the dad who wants to mix the parents names together and name the baby that

Which is kinda gid awful and you tell him that

If its a girl you agree to name her Cheryl after his sister

Which lowkey makes him teary eyes again

You agree to let him pick the boy name though

He jokes about picking names like...idk hulk or something

But you picked a meaningful name he wants to do the same

You can trust him with that much

When the baby is born

He almost refuses to let it go

Hes got that new dad worry/ slash haze

"Where are they taking them?"

"Are they ok!?"

Loses his shit when the baby does grabby hands and holds his prosthetic finger

Hes so proud of his new kick ass family

15:Touching

When ash touches you its usually soft, slow and gentle

No matter what

That’s it

He lets his fingers gently run across your skin

Mainly because 👏he 👏worships👏you👏

And you deserve to be treated like the holy entity he sees you as

He hold your hand firmly though as not to lose you

16 : Undressing:

Its either slowly piece by piece

Taking his time to do so

Or extremely fast

17 what “turns them on” :

ash is horny by nature

do anything around him when hes in the right mood easy enough

but other than that ash likes being in control of situations

makes him feel powerful

so give that man even the slightest bit of power and hes ready

he also finds it supper attractive when you are in charge and calling all the shots

18 domestic life

once everything with deadits is finally over and is at peace

the first thing ash does is marry you

then moves you to Jacksonville Florida likes hes always wanted

then thats where you would have your baby

the both of you get good jobs

send your kid(s) to good schools

all of yours childrens friends love being around ash and hearing him tell stories

19 farewell/ how they say goodbye

he always gives you a good solid kiss

before softly telling you to have a good day and to not miss him to much

hes always extra careful to throw in one last quick peck on the lips or cheek before you leave

#ash williams x reader #ashley williams x reader #evil dead x reader #horror x reader #horror imagine #slasher x reader #slasher imagine

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 4 years

Text

Respectable

Logan was a respectable boyfriend. Really, he was. He had a tie, after all. And the fact that he was wearing his boyfriend’s jacket and shifting through the contents of its pockets? Well... he had a reason for that. Totally.

Pairing: Romantic losleep Content warnings: They kiss once, food mentions Author’s note: Shout-out to the ever-lovely and amazing @blinksinbewilderment who inspired all of this with one (1) headcanon/idea and accidentally threw my muse into overdrive

Logan was a respectable boyfriend. He tried to avoid being overly affectionate in public. He made dinners on the nights he was supposed to, and sometimes on others when Remy seemed particularly stressed. He massaged Remy’s back when it was hurting worse than usual (which was nearly every night, but Logan didn’t mind, because within ten minutes Remy always melted back onto Logan and remained aggressively cuddly for the rest of the night, something Logan considered to be a definite positive). He wore a tie. He was respectable.

His explanation for the fact that he was currently pulling Remy’s slightly too big leather jacket as close around himself as he could? Well… it was comfortable. And it looked nice on him. And it smelled of coffee and cinnamon and, maybe, just a little bit like… Remy.

…

It wasn’t like anyone could see him, for Einstein’s sake! Remy was out of the house! He was still respectable, damnit.

That’s what Logan told himself, anyways, as he sunk further into the couch and wrapped his arms around himself and pretended it was Remy hugging him and not just himself. He had been telling it to himself for a while, actually, but he was struggling with the ‘believing it’ part.

Logan sighed and let go of himself, already feeling much too silly as is, even if the only person around to judge him was himself. Instead, he tucked his hands into the jacket’s pockets. At least he could keep his hands warm-

Wait. Logan wiggling his fingers within the pockets, crinkling noises bringing a small smile to his face. He should’ve known Remy would have stuff in his pockets.

With a quick, guilty glance around- as if he might be caught- Logan grabbed at the various items, pulling them out and piling them in his lap. A few of them were just wrappers from some candies. With a frown, Logan pushed them off to the side. He’d really have to talk to Remy about his cleanliness later.

Next up was a crumpled ball of receipts. Logan unfurled them, unsurprised to find them all from Remy’s favorite coffee shop. He didn’t even need to read the order on them to know what it was- a mocha with one to three shots of espresso, depending on how tired Remy was. Logan smiled softly as he checked and found himself, as always, perfectly on-point. He moved the receipts to the trash pile. Remy would have an identical bunch of them within a week.

Logan’s smile widened as he picked up the next thing- it was a piece of paper, torn off of a notebook or something similar. It was folded over, but on the outside was written in Remy’s lazy scrawl, “reasons why I have the best boyfriend in the world- suck it everyone else you’re stuck with b-grade bois.” He unfolded it, still smiling as he read through the listed reasons:

Reason one: He’s Logan. Need I say more

Reason two: He’s super smart. Like, SUPER smart. Beat-a-super-computer smart

Reason three: He has THE most kissable face in the entire universe

Reason four: If I tell him I love him he says it back??? Insane???

Reason five: Gives quality massages, ten out of ten, would recommend, except I don’t, because he’s MINE and as such I am the only person allowed to get his massages, deal with it

Reason six: Soft warm cuddly warm VERY warm soft softie

Reason seven: He’s going to look even better when he’s my husband, which I almost didn’t think was possible but I just feel like… like it’ll be different when I’ve got his name or he’s got mine. Just a feeling. But a good one

Reason eight: Hands down the LOVELIEST blush

Reason nine: A somehow even BETTER smile

There were more reasons on the list, but Logan only got so much further before his brain ran into a metaphorical wall, his eyes scrambling back up to re-read reason seven. And then re-re-read it. And again and again and again for about two minutes before it finally, completely sunk in.

But it couldn’t- it didn’t really- no it- Remy couldn’t- it wasn’t-

Slowly, Logan folded the paper back up, slipping the list back into the jacket’s pocket. He could ask Remy about what it meant exactly later. He was already blushing enough right then and there.

Luckily, there was only one scrap of trash left- another receipt. Logan assumed it was for the coffee shop again, though he still unfolded it, surprised that it had fallen out of the ball from earlier. As he flattened out the creases in it, however, he realized the formatting of it was different from the cafe’s. It looked more… professional?

Frowning in confusion, Logan read it over.

Gentleman’s- Charms, rings, and classy things

Date: 01-21-XXXX

Cashier: Miranda

Transaction #: 552943

Item(s): Ring, model 9277 [special order]

-Size seven

-Titanium, black

-Star sapphire, blue, primary

-Silver flecking [custom done, see record 329943]

-Engraving [custom phrase, see record 329943]

Pricing: Fluctuates on customization. For exact cost, collect receipt upon actual purchase and pick-up of item(s) purchased.

Logan felt his breath catch in his throat. This was… this was a receipt. A jewelry store receipt. A jewelry store receipt for a… A jewelry store receipt for a…

For a ring. For a custom made, carefully designed, clearly tailored for him, ring.

And Logan knows in this economy, with how much Remy makes, there is only one reason he’d spend as much money as a ring like this must cost. And that reason paired very, very well with reason seven of “reasons why I have the best boyfriend in the world- suck it everyone else you’re stuck with b-grade bois.”

Logan… didn’t know what to do. How was he supposed to react to this? He knew, of course, how he’d react if (when) Remy told (asked) him about it, but how was he supposed to react now, with the receipt in hand, saying everything Remy was planning to in much more concise, and much less romantic, terms?

Apparently the correct answer to his question was simply not, since all Logan did after that was… sit. Sit there, staring almost unseeingly at the paper, taking in the words again and again. He felt slightly breathless, which may have come from the fact that he stopped breathing a minute ago.

He was shaken from his stupor by the need to breathe, his lungs forcing in a breath and startling Logan out of his state. He looked the receipt over once more before he stuffed it in his pocket- not the jacket pocket, but his own.

Logan wasn’t entirely sure what he would’ve done next were it not for his phone suddenly ringing. He jerked his head to look at it a little too fast, but that was alright, all things considered. He quickly scooped it up, checking the caller and, unsurprisingly, finding it to be Remy. He took a deep breath and took the call.

“Hello, this is Logan.”

“Hiya babes. How’s my boo?”

Logan glanced down at the jacket he was wearing, thinking about all the secrets within. “Oh… fine. A little tired.”

He could almost hear Remy frown. “Tired? Didn’t you have work off today?”

“I did, yes, I just… didn’t sleep great last night, I guess.”

“Aw, hun.” Remy tutted sympathetically. “You should have told me. I could’ve stayed home and aggressively cuddled you into napping.”

Logan quirked his lips into a small smile. “It’s perfectly alright. I got in a short nap after lunch.” He said, which wasn’t a lie. He had napped.

He had also been napping in Remy’s jacket but that wasn’t something he was going to mention.

“Yeah, but we could’ve napped together.” Remy whined, and Logan chuckled.

“We can nap together soon enough.” Logan pointed out, waiting half a beat before he added, likely sounding a touch whiny himself, “Speaking of, how soon will you be returning home?

Remy laughed, and Logan knew his neediness hadn’t gone unnoticed. “Awww, miss me much?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Logan said. Remy didn’t respond, however, and eventually Logan sighed and slumped further back against the couch. “Alright, perhaps I have missed you. Just a bit.”

“That’s my truth-telling nerd.” Remy said cheerily. Logan rolled his eyes, though he knew Remy couldn’t see him. “And pretty soon. I’mma stop and pick up some Chinese since it sounds like you’re not gonna want to make dinner, and I certainly don’t. And after we eat we can sleep the entire rest of the evening away, yeah?”

“I don’t know, love, that sounds horribly unproductive…” Logan trailed off, not even sounding convincing to himself.

“I promise to cuddle you the entire time.”

Logan let a moment pass before he answered, trying to downplay the fact that he had been ready to enthusiastically agree the second Remy said that. “I suppose that would be alright, yes.”

He didn’t need to see his boyfriend to know Remy was fistpumping in victory. “Yet another win for the gays!” He exclaimed. “I’m going to go get some quality fast food to celebrate this momentous occasion. See you in a few, alright?”

“Got it.” Logan confirmed. “Love you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.” Remy said, the pet-name sincere, before he hung up. Logan did after, putting his phone back down on the table. He didn’t move for another minute, still enjoying the warmth and familiarity of Remy’s jacket.

The minute ended soon enough, however, and Logan sighed as he reluctantly stood up and shed the garment. He put it back where he had found it- tossed over the back of the couch, clearly left there on accident by a Remy who had slept in a bit too late and had rushed to get out of the house and to work.

He then pulled himself towards the kitchen, pulling out plates and silverware to set the table. He knew they could just plop on the couch, attempting to use their equally poor chopstick skills to eat out of the containers, but the last time they did that they had stained the couch. Badly. And they could only use the ‘flip the couch cushion over’ trick once.

By the time everything was laid out, Logan heard the door opening. Remy was pushing it open with a greasy paper bag in one hand. He smiled brightly as he spotted Logan, quickly closing the door so he could hurry over. He more or less flung the bag onto the table before he latched onto Logan, wrapping his arms around Logan’s back and squeezing him close.

“Missed you!” Remy said energetically. “You and your warmth!”

Logan chuckled as he hugged Remy back. He was just in a t-shirt, and his exposed arms were cold. “Forgot your jacket?” He asked, tone lightly teasing.

“Only a little bit.” Remy responded. Logan didn’t respond outside of another quiet chuckle, running his hands up and down Remy’s back to help warm him up before he released his boyfriend.

“Come on, the food will go cold.” Logan said as Remy grabbed his wrist and refused to completely let him go.

“But can’t we eat and snuggle on the couch?”

“You know what happened the last time we did that.” Logan responded. Remy pouted, but he still let go of Logan, sadly sinking into his seat across the table from Logan. He kept the pout up the entire time they served themselves, it only going away when he finally started eating.

“I love when I’m cold and food is warm.” Remy said simply as he shoveled more rice into his mouth than Logan really thought was healthy. Logan ate slower, not in the mood to choke today, the conversation remaining nonexistent until Remy, finally, took a break from eating to prompt some small talk.

“So, how was today?” He asked casually as he wiped off the mess of grease around his mouth. He then smirked. “Aside from being so sad and empty without me in it?”

Logan scoffed and rolled his eyes, though the gestures were fond. “It was fine.” He returned simply. “I mostly just read. The silence was a nice change of pace from your constant rowdy clamour.”

Remy raised a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “I’m pained you describe my natural noise levels as such! I prefer the term wild. Rowdy’s too undignified.”

“Yes, and you have no dignity.” Logan pointed out.

“I am aware, but we can at least pretend I do.” Remy said, slumping down in his chair dramatically. “Gosh, it’s almost like you love having a chaotic mess as a boyfriend.”

“I do.” Logan said, voice quieting a bit as he added, impulsively, without a first thought and much less a second one, “I’d love it even more if I was married to one.”

Remy raised an eyebrow, tilting his sunglasses down so he could look at Logan better. “Whatcha’ say, darling?” He asked, sounding confused and maybe just a little bit hopeful.

Logan didn’t answer him at first, his thoughts and rationality finally catching up to him and demanding answers from him as to why he had done this. But they were still behind his mouth, which once more started moving without his permission, saying, “I said, I’d love it even more if I was married to one.”

Remy pulled his sunglasses off at that, dropping them on the table, allowing Logan to see now that his emotions had shifted into a mess of confusion, hope, and the tiniest bit of upset. “You gonna propose to me, babes?” He asked, words light though his tone was practically awed.

“No.” Logan answered, watching as Remy grew even more confused. His heart started to hammer in his chest as he reached into his pocket, fingers crumpling around the receipt he shouldn’t have seen but currently didn’t regret finding. He flattened it out before he pushed it towards Remy, watching as his boyfriend’s eyes grew as large as saucers as he recognized it. “I’m going to propose that you propose to me. Preferably sooner rather than later. Or right now. Right now works too.”

“I- you-” Remy pressed his lips together, stopping the stammered words from slipping out as he continued to stare at the receipt. Finally, he pressed his eyes shut too, letting out a shaky laugh. “Damnit Lo.”

“I-I beg your pardon?” Logan asked, feeling relatively shaky himself by now. He was relatively sure he hadn’t always been able to hear his pulse in his ears.

Remy laughed a bit louder, opening his eyes and lifting his gaze back to Logan. Logan gasped a little as he realized that tears had formed at the corners of Remy’s eyes, but he didn’t seem to mind, smiling as he said, “I had it all planned out. Meteor shower in two weeks. I was going to drag you out to the park for a midnight picnic to watch. It was going to be great. I was going to compliment you until you were so flustered you were refusing to look at me, get you distracted by some scientific ramblings long enough for me to get the box open and I- and then I was going to-”

Without even realizing it, Logan was suddenly standing, pushing his chair back so quick he was surprised it didn’t topple over as he moved around the table, Remy standing up just in time to catch him as he flung himself at Remy.

Remy caught him with ease, pulling him so close Logan could have sworn Remy could feel his heartbeat against Remy’s chest. Remy buried his face into Logan’s hair and Logan did the same into the side of Remy’s neck. Distantly, he realized that he had started crying too. Which was ridiculous, of course, given it wasn’t like Remy had even really proposed to him yet.

But he was, he was going to, in two weeks time, during a meteor shower, filling the time with compliments and space facts and ranting and everything all leading up to one thing-

“Yes.” Remy said, his voice only slightly muffled by Logan’s hair.

“Yes?” Logan repeated, torn out of his thoughts and confused. “Yes what?”

Remy laughed again, and it was a beautiful sound, even if it was a little congested sounding at the moment. “Yes, I agree to your proposal to propose to you.”

“Oh.” Logan said dumbly, before the words truly registered and he said, again, “Oh.” He pulled his head from where it had been slotted against Remy’s neck, looking up his face. “When?”

“Well, uh… you said now was good, right?”

Logan smiled. “I did, yes.”

Remy nodded at that, more to himself than Logan. A sheepish smile slipped onto his face as he gently pulled away from Logan. “One moment.” He said before he turned and rushed down the hallway, likely to their bedroom.

Logan made good use of the short time he had to collect himself by shoving his fist into his mouth and squealing into it. Not that he’d ever admit to ‘squealing’ per say. Just… a yell. That happened to be very excited and very high pitched.

He didn’t have much time to contemplate that he was quickly losing the title of ‘respectable’ before Remy was back, a grey box clasped in his hands. He was fiddling with it between his fingers, clearly nervous. He came to stand in front of Logan, fidgeting in place, looking between Logan and the ground.

“You know, I think you’re supposed to get down on one knee.” Logan suggested as Remy didn’t do anything, seemingly stuck in place, stuck in the moment. Logan didn’t blame him.

“I know, I know, I just…” Remy paused, hesitating for a second before he quickly moved forward, kissing Logan on the lips. Logan didn’t react immediately, startled, but he quickly wrapped his arms around the back of Remy’s neck, pulling him close and returning the affection. By the time Remy pulled away, Logan was breathless.

“Wh- What was that for?” He mumbled. Remy laughed, shifting the ring box to one hand as he cupped one of Logan’s cheeks with the other, bringing Logan to the realization that his cheeks were ‘suddenly’ startlingly warm.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re flustered. I don’t even remember why I was so nervous.” Remy murmured in response, making Logan only flush harder as Remy fully pulled away. He dropped to one knee, holding the ring box in front of him.

“Logan Dearest Darling Sanders,” Remy said, smirking just the slightest, though the majority of his smile was still caring, still adoring, still loving, “will you do me the highest honor and allow me to call you mine, legally?”

“And you say I’m the dork-” Logan started, though he didn’t get that far, considering Remy chose that moment to open the ring box. True to the receipt, it was jet black, and a midnight-blue star sapphire was set in the middle of it.

The custom silver job that the receipt had mentioned but not described was also there, however, and that’s what caught Logan- because on each side of the star stone, flecks of silver were placed extremely carefully, in patterns that were more than familiar to him.

“Ursula major and aquila.” Remy said, softly. “Your-”

“My first constellation and my favorite.” Logan finished for him, tone wonderstruck. “You remembered.”

“I’d wouldn’t dare forget.” Remy replied feverently. “There’s an engraving, too, but you don’t earn the right to know about that unless you say yes.”

“I wouldn’t dare say no.” Logan said, smiling and feeling more than a little silly at the echo, but not minding it much as Remy broke out in a grin and reached forward, grabbing Logan’s hand and pulling it closer. Logan knew he was probably going to slip the ring on, to make it official, but Logan let himself completely move with the motion instead, lightly falling to his knees so that he was on level with Remy. He reached forward and grabbed Remy’s wrists, pulling him closer so that he could lean his forehead against Remy’s, because it only felt right to be close in that moment, felt right to leave as little space as possible between them.

“What does the engraving say?” He asked, still sounding breathless, likely because he still was breathless for more reasons than he could be bothered to count.

Remy grinned, not removing his forehead from Logan’s as he pulled the ring out of its box, letting the box fall without a second care. He lifted it up so that Logan could see it, tilting it around so that the light caught on the engraved words. They were tiny, just barely able to fit on, but they did.

I bet you could sometimes find all the secrets of the universe in someone’s hand.

“And I know I can.” Remy said softly as Logan looked away from the engraving, Remy taking the moment to slip the ring onto Logan’s finger. It fit perfectly. “Because I found all of them and more in yours.”

Logan let out a little laugh, breathy and airy and light and not humorous at all but happy, oh so very happy. “Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe.”

“The engravement, yes.” Remy admitted. “The second part? That’s just me being a sap.”

“I think that’s generally allowed in moments like this.” Logan replied, and he laughed, laughed even as more tears fell down his face. “Oh- I- I’m crying again.”

“Y’know what?” Remy said as he lifted up Logan’s newly adorned hand, entwining their fingers, the ring shining like the night sky against his hand. He tilted his head up just the tiniest bit, enough to meet Logan’s eyes more directly, his own shining with joy like Logan had never seen before and he was almost certain he would never see again (except perhaps one more time, one more time in a future that was far away and yet so close, one more time with more joy and love and each other). “I think that’s generally allowed in moments like this.”

Logan was a respectable boyfriend fiancé. It was not very respectable to topple into your fiancé’s arms, crying, and insistently pull them closer to you while they hold you as tightly as they possibly could, also crying as they press kisses into your hair.

But then again, it also wasn’t very respectable to steal your fiancé’s jacket to sleep in, or to rummage through its pockets, or to spoil his proposal surprise to propose that he propose to you because you’re too impatient to wait.

So, yeah. Maybe Logan wasn’t exactly a ‘respectable’ fiancé. But he was a very happy one. And, really, that’s all he cared about.

#don't y'all love what my muse will and will not do for me sdbcshjbcsd #anyways #have this #and btw #there's a lot more going on in this story than the summary says ;)))#losleep #ts remy #ts sleep #ts logan #fanfic #fanfiction #ts sides #sanders sides #the cryptid speaks #blink

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