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#wholehearted laughter <3

spasmsofthought · 10 months

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you fell hard, I thought good riddance (j.s. x reader)

An angsty thing inspired by “Best” by Gracie Abrams. (I wrote this at work cause I had the free time and couldn’t help myself.) Let me know what you think! (Probably some inaccuracies, especially if you squint - my step-dad may have done a career in the Navy, but I did and will not lol.) Wrote this all at once, so please have grace for any spelling or grammar mistakes. xo

https://open.spotify.com/track/5HO2RD12vZ5NcIdAULo43M?si=0ce82485daa44829

+++

Jake knows what he did.

While not at the forefront of his mind, it weighs on the deepest part of his consciousness and he’s reminded of what he did in what feels like the most random moments.

When he’s swallowing the last drops of beer in the bottle that’s pressed to his mouth. Or when he’s standing on the beach as the waves are softly rolling against the shore and it’s quiet. Or when he ends up on the couch watching crappy television at 3 a.m. because his flashbacks are keeping him awake and the moment his eyes close, he feels like he’s startled awake because a brightly-colored ad is flashing on the TV screen.

He sees you every once and a while, he thinks. Whether it’s when he’s tipsy at The Hard Deck and sees someone turn the corner who looks just enough like you from the back. Someone can laugh just the right way down the hall when he’s in the office at work and he has to do a double-take to make sure it’s not you that’s laughing.

He’s never actually, though, confronted with your physical presence until he finds himself at a joint military exercise in European waters and you are on the same carrier. He’s walking into the cafeteria after a morning of training exercises and immediately zeroes in on you. Once he’s aware of you, he can’t look away.

It takes a moment for your senses to catch on. (To be fair, the cafeteria is not really known to be an oasis of peace. It’s loud and busy. You’re sitting with friends anyhow.) Your eyes flit to the area where he’s making his way in and he can tell the moment your mind makes sense of what you’re seeing. You glance at him for one long moment, and then you turn towards your friends and stay that way until you all leave. The only thing that has changed about your demeanor is the frown that settles on your expression throughout the rest of your meal.

He thinks you look even better now than you did back then.

He thinks he took you by surprise. That you’ve gotten so used to not seeing him around on your deployments and where you’re stationed that you didn’t think you would need to brace yourself on this go around.

Jake knows what he did and he feels terrible. He didn’t then, but he does now.

Seeing you in actual flesh and blood makes him remember.

He remembers your utter devotion during your brief time together.

He remembers that the first time he approached you, he made you laugh. The kind of laughter that leaves a person gasping for air and makes their eyes water. You fell hook, line, and sinker. He remembers the way you would try to make time and space for him whenever you could, despite how busy you were trying to progress in your career. He remembers how he didn’t do the same.

He remembers that on your off days, you would come over and stay the nights. He remembers the smell of you when you would climb into bed next to him after showering. And when he couldn’t sleep, when his mind was churning and taking him back to things he just wanted to forget, you would sit next to him on the couch at 3 a.m. as he turned the television on. When he closed his eyes, he knows you were the one to turn to TV screen off so he didn’t wake up. He remembers how you would kiss him: sweet and complete and open, always moving in step with him.

He remembers how wholehearted you were when you were with him. Giving your whole self, all the time.

Even when he would say sharp, caustic words that would make tears form in your eyes, even when he shut his bedroom door so he wouldn’t feel responsible for making you cry, you stayed.

He remembers the way you stayed.

And he remembers how his half-hearted attempts, quarter-hearted attempts really, to draw you back in eventually ran you dry. You were willing to do so much, and he wasn’t really willing to do anything. He was young, but he knows that’s not an excuse now.

He remembers the light in your eyes changing. He remembers the way you stopped coming over. He remembers the way you didn’t have the courage to tell him you wanted to leave.

He remembers that you held onto him until the bitter end.

He knows you won’t talk to him. Every time you see him on the carrier, you make a point to avoid him or walk the other way. He knows you probably resent him (there’s a reason he can’t find you on any social media platforms). He understands why you don’t seem to want anything to do with him.

So, he investigates. He does what he knows how to do best: he talks and charms and weasels his way through the crowds of people on the carrier. Making his way from one group to another, day and night, Jake gleans for information and eventually finds what he needs. He knows your bunkmate’s name now (and their shift and their position, and even where they like to hang out and what time they prefer to go to the gym).

You may never read it, he knows. You may can it or tear it up and throw it out into the ocean. You may even wait until you can set it on fire and watch it burn.

But he knows he has to try.

So when he finds your bunkmate, he hands them a piece of paper and tells them it’s for you. It’s small and doesn’t take up much room. Your bunkmate only nods, a look of confusion passing over their face. He says it’s important that it be delivered to you. Those are his only instructions.

If he had the opportunity to talk to you in person, he might have the chance to elongate. To say more, be more. But he might not ever get the chance to do that, so he’s going to take what he can get.

You pass your bunkmate between shifts: you’re just getting back for some sleep, and they’re heading out. They say there’s a piece of paper you need to read on your pillow. Hand-delivered, they say the instructions were. No follow-up is required. You wait until they leave. Until you’re left alone.

You open up the folded-up piece of paper.

This is what it says:

I’m sorry. You deserved better.

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msmorningstaarr · 3 months

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Martell Week: "The Night We Met"

Memories of Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand

In honour of @martellweek, here we go!

DAY 3: Favourite moment

"Oberyn wanted vengeance for Elia. Now the three of you want vengeance for him. I have four daughters, I remind you. Your sisters. My Elia is fourteen, almost a woman. Obella is twelve, on the brink of maidenhood. They worship you, as Dorea and Loreza worship them. If you should die, must El and Obella seek vengeance for you, then Dorea and Loree for them? Is that how it goes, round and round forever? I ask again, where does it end? I saw your father die. Here is his killer. Can I take a skull to bed with me, to give me comfort in the night? Will it make me laugh, write me songs, care for me when I am old and sick?"

-- AFFC

Relationships: past!Ellaria Sand x Oberyn Martell; Ellaria Sand x Loreza Sand

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: coping with grief, angst, fluff, falling instantly in love, mentions to elia’s death

ao3 | masterlist

Oberyn, as the essence of vengeance give us a clear portrait of what so many characters (i.e Arya Stark, Lady Stoneheart) can turn their lives into once injustice reaches its door. Such a wholehearted moment where Ellaria mourns and only clings herself onto what is left for her of her love: memories and her daughters. Thinking about this, I wrote it inspired by the song "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron. Please, indulge yourselves.

Hellholt settled amongst the harsh dornish desert and sultry dunes of sand, quite near a river, though. The castle had its architecture projected to be more fresh, blow a breeze inside of it and thus, manage for the ones living there survive the scalding heat of the country. However, even with ancestral technology the castle had its days where the sun would invade everything and make its overwhelming presence, burning and melting all the things it could reach. Tonight would be one of these nights. Either way, Loreza cuddled and crawled towards her mother for a sorrowful embrace through quiet sobs from mother and daughter.

Little by little, the eight daughters of Oberyn were coping with his unfortunate death. Ellaria, his paramour, felt at a loss for words or actions. He was her one, true love. A strong and pure bond of a lifetime… and she lost him right in front of his eyes. Ever since the day Oberyn had his head crushed by the Mountain, the scene repeated itself in her mind and the exasperated sound yearned to leave her throat again and again and again, but nothing left her lips, not even a slight sigh. In an attempt to seek her own solace, she isolated herself in her own safe space: home.

The air inside Hellholt felt heavy, mirroring the weight on Ellaria’s heart. The loss of Oberyn, a man whose fiery spirit once echoed through the halls of the castle, left an indelible void. The mourning period stretched on, and each day seemed to blur into the next. Loreza found solace in the memories her mother told her, in the moments shared with Oberyn, but the pain of his absence was a constant ache. The girl of only seven years of age had so little time with her father and was already well aware at such young age about the horrors of grief.

Ellaria moved through the castle like a shadow, her laughter and energy diminished, if not vanished at all. The absence of her paramour presence was palpable. In the evenings, when the desert sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow on the sand, Hellholt became a fortress of memories and sorrow.

Ellaria, once a vibrant force within the castle, now moved with a quiet grace. She retreated to the chambers they once shared, surrounded by the remnants of Oberyn's essence—his books, his trinkets, and the lingering scent of his favourite perfumes. She found comfort in the familiar, even as the world outside seemed to lose its colour.

Loreza clung to Ellaria as a source of stability. The two shared a profound understanding of grief, and their silent embraces spoke volumes. As the night settled over Hellholt, Loreza's tears merged with the sorrowful whispers of the desert wind outside.

In the dimly lit chambers, Ellaria calmly embraced her daughter as she gently involved her small arms around her mother. Ellaria traced the contours of her face, as if trying to find traces of Oberyn in her features. Memories of their passionate moments flooded her mind, both a balm and a torment.

“Mother,” Loreza muttered.

“Yes, sweetling.” Ellaria replied.

“Tell me about the day you met papa again.” Loreza asked, drawing invisible patterns with her fingers over her mother’s belly.

Ellaria beamed, gently caressing her daughter's black curls. “Of course.” A sad smile rose on her face.

It was a bright night in Sunspear when I accompanied my father on a journey to pay our condolences to House Martell in honour of your aunt, late Princess Elia. Your father missed her dearly and his eyes were never seen so lost. Her body was brought back to Dorne a long time after her assassination and your uncle, Prince Doran, invited the lords of Dorne for her funeral, once she was a beloved princess as I told you once. I never met her in person, but I know she was perfect for all that your lord father has told me of her. I was grieving too. My mother had died not so long ago after the princess’ death. But on the night I met your father, his eyes lingered on mine and stared at me for what felt like an eternity. Oberyn was rather impulsive as a man, but that night he was quiet as the grass that hides a serpent. And then, I decided to be bald. That night, heat consumed me as much as consumed us tonight and I could not find any sleep, so I walked towards his chambers in the middle of the night and knocked on his door. His eyes sparkled with a puzzled and amused expression for my action, but he remained silent. We just looked into each other’s eyes. Then I just spoke.

“I know how it feels to lose a loved one.”

Loreza listened to everything and changed her expression at any nuance of her mother’s story. Her tears had drowned as her mother spoke so softly about her father and even allowed herself to smile whenever it came to remember the memory of her maidenhood.

Then, your father replied. “Come in, my lady.” And I entered his private quarters for the first time, but quickly remembered to correct him.

“I am no lady. I am a bastard.” And I said it proudly, as I always taught you and your sisters. He smiled at me for the first time and poured me a glass of wine.

“Bastards are born from passion.” Your father told me. “I have four of them with me. The second one reminds me of Elia the most.”

“Your fame is well known throughout the Seven Kingdoms, my Prince.” I replied, gazing at his brown eyes.

“You may call me Oberyn.” Your father calmly said. But after this, he went back sad again and I just sat by his side and held his hand while he stared at the floor. I was so instantly drowned into his beauty I paid no mind to speak anything, I just wanted to be near my Oberyn.

Suddenly, he looked into my eyes and questioned me. “Who did you lose?” I believe he thought I made that up to get near him. His peek examined me with profound depth.

And I promptly responded to him. “My mother, not so long ago.”

His fingers entangled on mine and I felt a rush, my eyes burned and my heart beat in exhilaration, a feeling you will feel once you reach your maidenhood, sweet girl. I was already in love. “Then I pay you my condolences.” That is just what he said.

“Grief is a relentless companion, one that we must navigate through the storm. Losing someone we love changes us, shapes us into beings capable of enduring the harshest of winds.” The wine in my hand tasted bittersweet, a reflection of the shared sorrows that had brought us together. “But the sun one day will shine on us again, Prince Oberyn.”

For a moment, the weight of grief seemed to lift as I sat there, hand in hand with my Prince of Dorne. The vulnerability he displayed, the raw honesty in his eyes, created a connection that transcended titles and societal norms. And there, he was no longer a prince and I was no longer a bastard. It was only him and I. We were two souls seeking solace in the midst of heartache.

“Thank you.” Your father told me earnestly and a shadow casted over his eyes, following for a soft tear falling from his eyes. It was the first and last time I saw your father cry and I did what felt most logical… I kissed his cheek exactly where his tear fell apart. I remember it all like a vivid dream, right in front of my face. Oberyn instantly kissed my lips with no shame or any feeling a grown person should feel, but only tenderness and comfort. Ever since, Oberyn pleaded for me to stay with him and Sunspear and never let me go. Not so long after, your sister Elia was born. And then Dorea, Obella and lastly you, Loreza.

Loreza’s eyes fluttered with a comforting expression, leaving a soft tear fall from her eyes.

I grew up thinking I could never love someone nor be loved with such devotion and there he was, loving me since our first kiss. I felt that love, my little snake. For I loved him right then too. And I hope that you and your sisters experience this type of love too. That is why I yearn for peace. I wish no mourn for any of you… just pure love.

With this, Loreza tried to merge her body into Ellaria, wiping her tears on her mother’s nightgown. “I miss him, mama.”

“I know, sweetling. I miss him too.” Ellaria said, quietly sobbing. “But now it is past time for you to sleep, love. I already told you a bedtime story, so close your eyes and get some rest.”

Loreza nodded and tried to reach her pillow close to Ellaria, but before she would close her eyes, the little girl turned to her mother and spoke. “Do you think I will dream of papa tonight?”

Ellaria sighed and caressed her daughter's brown curls, with a broken smile. “That is all I could hope for.”

#martell week #game of thrones fanfiction #fanfic asoiaf #asoiaf fanfiction #ao3 #martell #oberyn martell #oberyn martell fanfiction #a song of ice and fire #ellaria sand #oberyn x ellaria #prince oberyn #house martell

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enchantedquill-40 · 3 months

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Part 3

Despite the progress in Rodney's physical and emotional recovery, the echoes of isolation still reverberated through Atlantis. While the team welcomed him back into their fold, Rodney remained elusive, often retreating into the labyrinth of his thoughts. The laughter that once filled the mess hall and the camaraderie during mission briefings felt incomplete without his wholehearted participation.

One day, as the team gathered in the control room, Sam Carter couldn't help but voice the unspoken concern that lingered in the air. "Did we break him?" she asked, her voice a mixture of regret and worry. The question hung heavily, the weight of the team's collective guilt palpable in the room.

Carson Beckett, who had been closely monitoring Rodney's progress, sighed, understanding the depth of Sam's inquiry. "Look, some people can't handle being bullied, especially when it comes from those they consider friends. Rodney was picked on for years because of us, and that leaves lasting scars. It's going to take time for him to fully heal."

The control room fell into a contemplative silence as the team grappled with the realization that their actions had left enduring wounds on their brilliant teammate. The camaraderie they had taken for granted had fractured, and Rodney's journey toward recovery was more intricate than they had initially comprehended.

Carson continued, "He's been through a lot, both physically and emotionally. Rodney needs time to rebuild his trust in us and in himself. It's not an easy process, and we must be patient and understanding as he navigates through it."

In the following weeks, the team made a concerted effort to create an environment that fostered Rodney's reintegration. They invited him to join their activities, shared light moments, and extended genuine gestures of friendship. However, Rodney's responses remained guarded, and there were times when he seemed lost in the recesses of his own thoughts.

John Sheppard, recognizing the gravity of the situation, approached Rodney one day in the science lab. "Rodney, we miss having you around. We're here for you, whatever you need," he expressed, a genuine concern etched in his features.

Rodney, still grappling with the internal battles, offered a faint smile but didn't say much. His presence was a delicate balance between tentative reconnection and lingering reservations. The team, respecting his need for space, continued their efforts to rebuild what had been fractured.

Carson, acting as both a friend and a physician, kept a watchful eye on Rodney's well-being. The doctor's office became a safe haven where Rodney could express his concerns and fears without the fear of judgment. The wounds inflicted by years of bullying and isolation ran deep, and Carson recognized that true healing required addressing both the physical and emotional scars.

"It's not just about mending broken bones, Rodney. We need to tend to the wounds that aren't visible," Carson gently explained during one of their sessions. "Your mental well-being is just as important as your physical health, and we're here to support you through it."

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, Rodney's silent struggles began to lessen. The team's unwavering support, coupled with Carson's holistic approach to healing, gradually allowed Rodney to open up. The once-muted scientist started sharing more about his thoughts and feelings, allowing his vulnerability to become a bridge to reconnection.

In time, the team witnessed a subtle shift. Rodney's laughter returned, and his engagement in conversations became more animated. The labyrinth of his thoughts, though still occasionally visited, no longer held him captive. Atlantis, with its ancient halls and glowing crystals, stood witness to the resilience of a team that refused to let one of their own remain lost in the shadows.

The journey toward complete healing was ongoing, but the camaraderie that had fractured was slowly rebuilding. The team, guided by newfound understanding and patience, celebrated the small victories and continued to support Rodney on his path toward reclaiming not only his brilliant mind but also the sense of belonging that had been temporarily obscured by the shadows of isolation. As Rodney began to physically recover, the shadows of his past lingered, casting a pall over his reintegration into team missions. The once robust scientist remained notably skinny, a visible reminder of the toll isolation had taken on his well-being. Despite tentative steps toward engagement, trust remained an elusive commodity, leaving Rodney on edge during missions.

John Sheppard, haunted by the absence of the old Rodney, struggled to reconcile the vibrant scientist he once knew with the wary figure now navigating through Atlantis. The missions, once marked by Rodney's bold strategies and quick thinking, became moments of tension as the scientist exhibited signs of jumpy apprehension.

During one mission, as the team faced an unexpected threat, Rodney's unease became palpable. He tensed at sudden noises, his gaze darting nervously. The once-confident scientist seemed on the verge of retreating into the defensive shell he had built during his period of isolation.

John, torn between the desire to see Rodney fully recovered and the burden of his own guilt, missed the assertive and fearless demeanor that had characterized their interactions. The realization that he hadn't stood up for Rodney in the past haunted him, and the weight of that regret loomed over their missions.

Despite the camaraderie forged during their shared endeavors, John hesitated to address the underlying tension. The old dynamics seemed forever altered, and the fear of further fracturing the delicate progress Rodney had made held him back from intervening. Instead, he watched silently as Rodney navigated the challenges with a palpable mix of reluctance and anxiety.

Teyla and Ronon, observant as always, exchanged concerned glances. The unspoken understanding among the team members deepened, acknowledging the ongoing struggles Rodney faced. They attempted to provide silent support, recognizing that rebuilding trust required time and patience.

In the quiet moments between missions, John found himself grappling with the dissonance between the Rodney he remembered and the guarded scientist now in their midst. The guilt that weighed on him intensified as he witnessed Rodney's attempts to contribute while battling his own inner demons.

Carson, attuned to Rodney's emotional journey, urged the team to be mindful of the scientist's triggers. "He's been through a traumatic experience, both physically and emotionally. We need to give him the space he requires while offering our unwavering support," the doctor advised during one of their debriefings.

Despite the guidance, the team continued to walk on eggshells around Rodney's sensitivities. The missions became a dance of caution, with the scientist occasionally slipping into moments of paranoia that added an extra layer of complexity to their endeavors.

As the days turned into weeks, John grappled with the realization that merely longing for the old Rodney wouldn't bring him back. It was a harsh reality that required more than passive observation. The team dynamics needed active intervention and support to rebuild the trust that had been shattered.

During a rare moment of vulnerability, Rodney confided in Carson about his struggles. "I want to trust them, but every time I let my guard down, it feels like I'm opening myself up to more pain," he admitted, his voice a fragile echo of the once-assertive scientist.

Carson, understanding the delicate nature of Rodney's emotional state, encouraged him to express his concerns to the team. The Scottish doctor became a mediator, facilitating a conversation that had long been overdue.

In a heart-to-heart conversation, Rodney shared his fears and anxieties with the team. The admission, though difficult, marked a turning point. Teyla, Ronon, and even John listened attentively, acknowledging the impact of their past actions on Rodney's trust.

John, finally confronting the guilt that had weighed on him, expressed remorse. "I miss the old Rodney, and I regret not standing up for you when I should have. I want to help you rebuild that trust, but I need to know how."

The team, united in their commitment to Rodney's well-being, pledged to provide the support and understanding he needed. It was a gradual process, marked by moments of tension and breakthroughs. Atlantis, with its ancient walls and pulsing energy, bore witness to the team's collective effort to mend the fractures within their dynamic.

As Rodney continued on his journey of recovery, the team's newfound commitment to understanding and supporting him marked the beginning of a healing process that extended beyond physical scars. The shadows of isolation gradually lifted, allowing glimpses of the resilient scientist to emerge from the depths of vulnerability.

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heloisedaphnebrightmore · 3 years

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Good enough for you [Anthony Bridgerton x Reader]

Title: Good enough for you Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Female!Reader Word count: 1.8k Published: 11 October 2021 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Summary: Anthony has been acting as if he was your personal royal guard, not letting even one gentleman near you. Once Benedict joins you and teasingly steals you away, Anthony shows you another side of him.

Bridgerton Masterlist | Masterlists

If you enjoy my stories, please consider donating and supporting me on Ko-fi. Of course, it’s completely your choice, I will continue updating for free anyway :) Thank you <3

The sweet melody ushered gentlemen to look for a suitable dance partner, their gazes roaming across the room to find those who shined the brightest. The ballroom was lit by dim, warm lights, diamonds sparkling vividly on each young ladies' tiaras, catching the young men's eyes. But for you, it seemed no one was good enough. Or rather the oldest Bridgerton brother thought so, which to your surprise didn't bother your papa and mama. Not in the slightest.

"Anthony, should you keep glaring at those fine gentlemen, I shall never find a suitable husband." Your scolding words left you in a silent chuckle, knowing you could never truly be upset with him. Not with him. Not with all those feelings you've been secretly harbouring for the eldest Bridgerton brother. As though he was oblivious, he never realised your eyes shamelessly staring at him, nor did he acknowledge the not-so-subtle teasing Benedict enjoyed riling him up with.

"They aren't good enough for you," his tone was barely beyond an irate grunt, his moodiness earning a light giggle from you.

"Who shall be good enough for me then?" You asked with an arched brow, a playful smirk attempting to reveal itself in the corner of your lips.

"Certainly not this bunch," he huffed, his gaze studying the room as he stood beside you with the air of a royal guard surrounding him, protecting your innocence at all costs.

"May I?" A deep baritone voice called for you, the familiarity immediately catching your attention.

"Benedict," you squealed in excitement. Benedict was a brother that you wished to have but weren't so lucky to get. Instead, you settled for a best friend in him. "Please," your voice was a plea that Anthony didn't miss noticing. "Your brother bores me with his brooding," you chuckled as you looked at Benedict's older brother, wearing a sceptical look across his face.

"I'm merely trying to protect you," he added.

"Should you keep protecting me any longer, I'll end up as a splinter, Anthony," you huffed, rolling your eyes, all mannerism thrown out the window.

"Then you shall be a splinter," he shrugged in a child-like manner, earning a loud scoff from you. No amount of reasoning could change Anthony's mind at times.

"You can't possibly believe that," you raised your voice slightly, bewildered by his nonchalance.

"As I have already told you before, they aren't good enough for you," he replied, eyes still studying the people dancing around the centre of the room.

"I appreciate your concern, Anthony," you started, your voice wearing a more solemn tone, "but I shall never find a gentleman should you protect me from the wind itself," you arched a brow, daring him to oppose. But instead of a reply, Benedict's wholehearted laughter rang in your ear, earning your complete attention.

"Might I suggest you reconsider my dear brother's intentions?" Benedict asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Brows narrowing, you watched him, and Anthony participate in a staring contest, clearly none of them winning the gentlemanly battle.

"Should I understand?" You asked, interrupting their silent argument, possibly one that only siblings could encode.

"He means nothing," Anthony added, his stern gaze still attached to his brother's. However, Benedict didn't seem fazed, rather looked as though he enjoyed Anthony's glare.

"Then you shouldn't be concerned with your dear brother stealing this beautiful lady from you," he chuckled triumphantly and even though you focused all your attention on the pair, you found it hard to understand what underlying meaning their words had.

Instead of letting those mighty gears work in the deepest part of your mind, you waited for Benedict to scribble his name on your dance card, before taking his hand, and offering a sweet smile to Anthony, his expression softening at the sight.

Benedict didn't only steal one, but two dances from you. He made you laugh and accidentally step on his shoes, but it seemed to make the already easy air around you even more comfortable. You loved the boy and sometimes wished to have him as a brother, but once Anthony's face appeared in your memory you quickly swatted those thoughts away.

Though having Benedict as a brother would have made your days tremendously brighter and livelier, the thought of not being able to have Anthony even in your wildest of dreams made your heart sting. For as long as you could remember, Antony looked at you like a little sister, protecting you from your own reflection if needed, and you hated every moment of him looking at you as a mere obligation and not a woman who could possibly make him the happiest man alive. But at least it gave you an opportunity to stay beside him, however hopeless your situation seemed to be.

Benedict twirled you around the dance floor with a wide grin plastered across his face. As soon as the music stopped, however, Anthony strutted up to you with a scowl on his face. You offered him a questioning look, but he simply reached for your hand and gently dragged you after him, across multiple corridors, some dimmer, some lighter.

"Are you trying to cause a scene?" You huffed as you watched his broad shoulders stiffen, but he didn't halt his steps. "Anthony?" His name seemed to do the trick as he looked over his shoulder, meeting your gaze for a mere second, before he turned away again. "Anthony!" You called more sternly, but he only hurried his steps in a response.

Once you reached the garden, only luminated by the dim light of the moon, you pulled your hand out of his hold. He didn't look at you, didn't even turn to you. No possible explanation could make you understand what was going on in his head, but you didn't miss to realise that something was off about him. The one person who protected your innocence and cared more about your reputation than anyone, almost caused a scene for a reason unknown to you.

"You can't possibly stay quiet for the rest of the night. You must speak to me at one point, Anthony," you spoke up after a moment of silence, voice laced with anger, covered with frustration. But the eldest Bridgerton brother stayed silent, not even his breathing audible. "Fine, I shall take my leave then," you huffed, irritated by his behaviour, and turned around.

"You were becoming rather comfortable with Benedict," he said at last, your steps halting instantly, eyes narrowing as you turned around.

"Benedict is a dear friend of mine and your brother. I don't see why it must concern you," you tilted your head, still facing his back, but you didn't miss the heavy sigh that left his lungs.

"I love my brother, but he isn't good enough for you," he shook his head, voice heavier with each word.

"Then who shall be good enough for me?" You asked, throwing your hands in the air. "Frankly, I'm starting to believe your way of saying no one is good enough for me simply means I'm not good enough for anyone." The pain that laced each word that left your lips made Anthony swirl around. His eyes widened as though he was surprised to hear you say those words. "Don't you dare look at me like that," you hissed through gritted teeth. "What do you expect of me, Anthony? Should you think I'm not worth being courted then say it. Be honest and own up to your opinion," you spat in anger as a silvery layer began coating your eyes, blurring your vision.

"That is not what I meant," he shook his head, closing the distance between you in an instance, cupping your cheeks to comfort you. The swipe of his thumb coated with your tears that seemed to escape down your cheeks made you shiver. Your heart thundered heavily at the feel of his touch, but you attempted to ignore the effects he had on you.

"Then why are you doing this to me?" Your voice was barely above a whisper, but Anthony could hear you just fine.

"Because— you deserve more. You deserve someone better. Someone who sees how beautiful you are inside and out. Someone who can appreciate your silliness as much as that smart little head of yours." Anthony's voice shook as he pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes closing, inhaling your sweet scent. "Someone who doesn't just look at you as a suitable wife, but a lifelong partner to be cherished and adored every second of every day." Noone could prepare you for his words, the genuine care and love he harboured for you. The heavy thudding of your heart in your rib cage quickened and weight settled in the pit of your stomach as you realised all this time it was Anthony who deemed himself unworthy of you.

"You are more than good enough for me, Anthony," you breathed as you cupped his face and lifted his gaze to yours, his eyes opening and growing wide in surprise. "You are what I want. But it doesn't matter how much I want you, should you keep me close to you but never close enough for me to reach you."

"You— you want me?" He asked, his usual confidence unseen, uncertainty settling deep inside his bones.

"I have wanted you for years, but you are a blind fool," you chuckled as tears collected in your eyes again accompanied by a gentle smile. "Must I say it for you to realise how much I love you? I have made it beyond obvious, Anthony and still, you could not see it." His lips curved into a tiny smile as you rose on your tiptoes and pressed your lips against his. He was stunned for a mere second, forgetting to return the gesture, but once he awoke from his daze, he wrapped his arm around your waist, his other hand digging into your hair on the back of your neck, messing up the beautiful hairdo. But you couldn't care whether you looked dishevelled or inappropriate. The man you have been longing for held you securely in his arms, wrapped around you as if he never intended letting you go again. But air seemed to do the trick to force Anthony to part your lips but didn't let you back away from him.

"I meant it!" He said with a stern tone as though he was making a promise. "I want to cherish you and adore you every second of every day." The fiery glint in his gaze told you enough to take his words as an oath he never wished to break.

"And I wish to prove that you are more than enough for me," you replied, sealing the promise in an alluring kiss as you basked in each other's embrace, before you were to return to the ballroom and Anthony was to collect your papa with what you imagined to be a wide grin across his face, proudly accepting Anthony's proposal. After all, it made sense why your mama and papa didn't seem bothered by the eldest Bridgerton brother guarding you if they saw what the two of you needed years to finally acknowledge.

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#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton x yn #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton one shot #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton fluff #anthony bridgerton fic #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader

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bonesofapoet · 2 years

Text

a duet, honey sweet

[ tasm! peter parker x you ]

author’s note: nwh still has me by the throat and i would like to thank andrew garfield for reminding me that i love him, your honor, and i actually care about Putting An Effort into my writing again! thanks peter 3 i love u. meet cute, angst city population: us, implied death, talking through grief, nwh spoilers

word count: 1781

It started with a joke.

Not even a good joke, really. Dry in quality, a bit ill-timed. An adventurous dad might even second guess the cheese-level and cower in fear at the reception. Next Level Cringe, if you will.

Regardless, that didn’t stop you from laughing unapologetically across the coffee shop, didn’t stop you from tearing your eyes away from the pages of your book, well worn, well loved, spine creased. That pull you felt, the intrigue that inspired you to at least see who had the guts to say something so-

It was unexpected, to connect with a pair of soft brown eyes in a sea of many others. You didn’t expect him to be handsome, or charming, or. . . distant, wasn’t quite right, and neither was careful. Hesitant, though. It fit snug like a glove, warm and comfy cozy. Which, you realized by the end of the afternoon, was exactly how this Peter Parker made you feel.

That was a rarity, upon a first meeting. It was noted with delight. Noted with care.

A few days later, the sun spilled through smudged kitchen windows in the warm, lazy fractals of a slow mid morning. They crept up the pages of an open paperback book, pages dogeared, annotated heavily with various colors of ink. A mug of coffee was kept comfortably heated just by sitting in a stray ray of light. It would be a balmy day, by sunlight alone.

And Peter Parker, lounging on the kitchen counter, didn’t notice his phone vibrate beside him – balanced precariously close to the edge – until it vibrated off the counter and smashed to the tile below.

There was a yell in the silence disturbed, the pen twirling in hand, clinking to the floor next to the phone in question. It was lit up, bragging about a fresh text message from a new number saved into it’s memory. Your name lined the top of the bubble, bold and italicized, sharp and striking. That was fitting, Peter thought, because that’s just how he thought of you, post-afternoon meet-cute only a few days before.

Panic, wholesome and wholehearted lit a flare high and wild in his chest upon seeing your name, upon reading your message, upon realizing that you totally hadn’t ghosted him yet and oh no he needs to reply.

But Peter hesitates. Thumbs hover over the keyboard – ready and willing, taunted and fearful.

Memories of his little multi-universal adventure flicker through his mind, heart willing to flutter just a little more, just a little faster before it decides – no, before he, decides – to swing off the edge and take flight. To try again. To maybe, if he’s lucky, move forward just a couple more steps.

He caught himself grinning, when he agrees to meet you for lunch the very next day.

Minutes pass into hours, hours turn into days, melt seamlessly into a month, then two. Maybe even a third, in time.

Flickering candlelight casts shadows dancing on the walls of your apartment, where you and Peter Parker lie captive to an endless blanket cocoon. The weather had turned for the worse, wind blowing rain hard and fast against windowpanes when it wasn’t whistling past in a haunting dirge. To both of you, this meant a movie day, a reading day, a Who Cares What We Do As Long As We’re Together Inside, sort of day.

Laughter bright and ardent, echoed shared over a newer film – one you and Peter hadn’t been quick enough to catch before it fled the cinemas for good.

You watched the flicker of camera angles switch to and fro with refined grace, an arm draped casually over the back of your sofa. Strands of Peter’s hair felt soft as they slid through your fingers, playing mindlessly. Eventually, a delicate trail of skin grazed the length of your other hand, up and down. That same pull seized your heart, that same intrigue. It greeted you like a cherished friend, all snug and warm while your palms met with fingers entwined, and no plans to let go anytime soon.

Your eyes drifted away from characters switching scenes, searching for-

A little hesitance, a little melancholy past his edges, but breathing easier as time went on. He felt the difference – in his mind, his heart, his only mortal soul – as Peter Parker, and as Spider-Man. It was the way everything seemed to twinkle now, seemed to brighten, maybe even sharpen crystal clear in the places he didn’t even notice had blurred and dulled.

All it took was an impulsive quip, and a bright, brilliant laugh from across a dim coffee shop on the other side of the city. And, he eventually admitted, it was maybe just a little bit of his own courageous attempt to embrace this something new, this something familiar, this something comfy cozy and warm.

Those same soft, brown eyes met yours and held, held, held. Shadows flickered across his face, only to be chased away in the next moment by fuzzy, amber light of candle flame. It gilded him in the ways of the heavens, and almost burned your heart to a sudden halt. In that moment, he personified every single feeling that had ever lived without a name.

And the way he’s looking at you – as if you’re a gift from the divine, a second chance at something precious and wholesome and heartfelt – it’s intense, honestly. It’s brand new.

Your lips quirk a hesitant smile. “You okay?”

And Peter-

He’s pulled back from that first afternoon again. The setting sun spilled through big picture windows and turned the air that special shade of rosy pink; the very same he was fairly certain stained his cheeks when your eyes met with his.

And yet, after all this time-

He couldn’t help but think of Gwen. And even though he saved MJ – Gwen was always there, swimming through the depths of his mind, just out of reach. Especially when familiarity arose, how it all ascended out of the caverns of his grief and settled heavy and uneven on his shoulders. Atlas reborn anew. How he felt these things ache with his whole body when his heart had begun to overflow, max capacity reached, tide too high.

He didn’t realize until that afternoon, what that meant for him. To him. Especially now, watching you glowing with the spark of a life lived happily, one that you so easily extended to him.

“What? Yeah, yeah-” Peter scrambles, spits out some words when he registers your question. “Yeah, I’m good. Just thinking.”

Your eyebrows rise, giving his hand a squeeze. “You sure?”

The question rolls off your tongue on a giggle, and Peter’s grin doesn’t reach his eyes.”Yeah,” he nods, squeezes back. “Positive, actually.” His answer comes automatically, maybe even a little breathless. This time, he’s not able to shake them off, the wanderings of his mind.

A candle pops, a wick of fire flares. Another one burns out across the room. Peter’s eyes drift back to the movie, burrows closer to you under the blankets. He had been off somewhere else again.

The film goes uninterrupted for a few more minutes, until, inevitably, Peter speaks up. He’s tugging your hand in his lap, shifts to face you completely. You pull your hand that was playing with his hair back under the covers. His expression is. . .a little bit distant, but it’s harder for you to gauge a proper read in the shadows. “Actually, darling, I uh-”

It’s quick, how the air around him shifts, how he begins to fidget with loose strings on a blanket corner – then drags that same hand through his hair. He won’t meet your eyes, his fingers loosen around yours.

“-can I tell you something?”

You huff a laugh through the uncertainty. Stifle the way a tendril of worry snakes throughout your ribcage when he speaks. A painful, strained thread of distance weaves through his words. It’s steady, and poorly hidden. “No Peter. You can’t tell me anything, ever.”

Tension that had snuck in through cracks of the night’s silence were cut down in a heartbeat with your laugh, and the quiet one you had drawn out of Peter. It was a little easier to breathe, then, for both of you.

So that’s a yes, it was said more to himself, than to you. Ha ha ha, you’re real funny, I’ve told you that, right?

He garners an agreeing hum from you, even a little bit of a smile. And then you’re there - reaching for the hand that is not already caught in your own, to ground him in the solidity of this moment, of your presence here, together.

It’s kind being with you, he thinks, not for the first time. It’s effortless, yet not at all easy. It’s saccharine sweet and a kick to his ribs, his groin, a cheap shot to his-

“I’m all ears, Peter.”

He chose not to hesitate anymore, didn’t want to hide away the parts of himself that stung the most or lit a fire inside of his heart, because-

Well. He was scared shitless, but he didn’t want to watch you slip through his fingers and fade away too.

He decided to start with a small little bang.

“...we both know there’s some things I haven’t told you. About me.” A breath. Gaze pulled from your tangled hands to your eyes. He found worry in them, hiding among the tenderness you always held for him, regardless of anything or anyone else. He says his piece nice and slow. “But first, I just – I really wanna tell you about someone I knew once. Her name was Gwen.”

And, remarkably, they were right, he realizes.

A new dawn broke through curtains pulled tight against the prying eyes of nightfall. He looks down at you, curled up sweet and safe against his side, sound asleep – had been for hours. An elegy began to play through tv speakers from across the room, credits rolling through title after title, minute by minute. He let them play their part, let the whole movie drone on, actually, with hardly a thought spared in it’s favor. You had been asleep for hours, and he couldn’t find it in him to stir you from your dreams.

Life doesn’t have to be shitty for us, after all.

For the first time in a long time, his heart stirs. Seems to shake off the ash and the crumbling shell that had slowly built up over time. It was soft, what the two of you had. It was gracious.

With a smile all but a ghost upon his lips, he placed a gentle kiss to your crown, and lingered, lingered, lingered. He couldn’t help but wonder. . . was this love?

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #andrew garfield #the amazing spider man #spider man imagine #i have edited this to the point im almost convinced ive overworked it and its trash #the end makes me smile tho #i have never written for peter in my life but i was sucker punched with YEARNING #kas writes

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skiyoosmi · 3 years

Text

post-break up heartaches

⤷ verse 2. in the dreams that we once shared

⤷ miya osamu, bokuto koutarou

⤷ verse 1 | verse 3

⤷ play. sorrow by sleeping at last, wrong direction by hailee steinfield

commissions: open

⇢ OSAMU stays still in his seat, melancholic eyes contrasting your bright ones while you twirl around in the middle of the ballroom. he admits, your dream wedding gown fit your figure perfectly as it flowed so gracefully the more you moved. but no beauty can compare to the happiness on your face as you danced with his previous volleyball teammate; the latter having a small smile on his face, not even having a single care about the funny looks you've been getting from your distant relatives. despite the minimal expression he adorns, to someone who has known him for a long time, it's clear as day just how ecstatic suna rintaro was to declare you as his wife, just as you were to call him your husband.

that could've been us, his mind screams all throughout the time he's been in the wedding ceremony, that could've been him dancing with you. he remembers little by little— how those smiles and laughters used to be solely for him whenever you try out his new recipes, from tasty to funny, how he used to be the one suddenly dragged to dance with you, how you used to dream of being married to him. him and only him.

but time was a cruel thing. he should've known better than to keep you waiting for more than so many years with nothing but empty and broken promises. i'll be done soon, yn, you know how much this means to me, this is my dream we're talking about here. stop being selfish please— he recalls himself telling you. he fails to see the disappointment and hurt that cross your eyes, fails to protect the already fragile relationship as you say your goodbye's to him a few more arguments and weeks later— i'm sorry for holding you back, samu. make sure to reach your dreams, okay?

i'm sorry. no matter how many times he says it, your fate was already done with him. you only needed him and he couldn't even give you that.

"hey there, stranger. wanna dance for a bit?"

he looks up, blinded by your brightness that almost seemed as if it mocked his sappy mood but he nods nevertheless, taking your hands as you pull him to the dance floor. in his peripheral view, he sees suna give him a wholehearted smile.

"you should stop frowning. it doesn't suit your face you know? what did you do to my lively samu?" you huff after a few minutes of nothing but silence and awkwardness while you swayed side to side with him, pouting when he shrugs, "you're such a gloomy ass! are you still in love with me or something?"

you swear it was supposed to be a joke, something to lighten the air between you two. but how were you supposed to laugh when he replied to you in the way you least expected?

"yeah, actually, i still am."

silence engulfed the two of you as you tried to overcome your shock. and for all the years he has been with you, it was painfully obvious that the answer he hopes for will not come. not now, not ever.

"samu... it's been—"

"i know. almost 8 years, is it? i know but i can't help it, yn. how could i when you're literally all i see everywhere i look?"

you fail to give him back a reply and (un)fortunately, he feels a tap on his shoulder and immediately, he knew it was time. he lets go of your waist and turns around, heart ready to get drowned by the bitter wine he's planning to drink all throughout the night, accompanied by the tears he won't be able to let out until he comes back to his hotel room.

"congratulations on your wedding, yn."

he ignores the hollowness inside him brought about by the unfinished conversation and goes back to his seat and repeats it like a mantra: not all fairytales get their happy ending.

and much to his dismay, his was one of those that don't.

⇢ BOKUTO was a star, luminous and blinding yet always longing to be part of the galaxy that held the awe of many other people. he was a child with dreams that wander all over the world and with confidence, he wants hear it, see that same world cheer for him.

he was an enormous star but his dreams were even bigger— and as he reaches out his hand to take more of what the universe can give him, he unknowingly lets go of yours.

"you look like you've dropped a huge shit on your underwear with the way you're staring down the court," konoha comments as he takes the seat he reserved beside you, hands deep in his pocket while he does so.

you glare at him, scoffing at his vulgar choice of words, "and you look like that shit, asshole. we haven't seen each other for so long and that's how you greet me?"

he laughs out loud, opening his arms and shoving you in them, "here! is this what you wanted instead? so adorable, yn! i knew you loved me at some point!"

you let out a series of groans, struggling to get out of his hold, "no! you're so annoying, get off me!"

he cackles, releasing you as the buzz rings out throughout the whole court, signaling the beginning of the match between msby and schweiden adlers. you shift in your seat, watching the players get introduced one by one, gasping when your ex-boyfriend literally does two cartwheels in his turn. is he... serious?

"where does he think he is... some kind of circus?" konoha snickers, shaking his head in amusement. oddly, you find yourself laughing with your companion. after all, this was typical bokuto, so full of energy and surprises.

"he looks... okay. very much okay," you bitterly state, placing your chin right on your palm as your arms and elbows rested on your lap. envy envelops your whole being as you watch him lively wave to the crowds, a large grin staying on his face. you huff silently, eyes trying to look at the other players but gravity seems to be playing its tricks on you as you find yourself reverting back to his figure. you wonder if time will let you become that happy someday.

"you're not...?" the lad beside you trails off, sighing when you shake your head 'no.'

"of course not yet, aki. it's not that i still love him or anything but he's just... he was everything, you know? he's become part of all my routines and now that he's gone, it... it just feels empty. like the dreams that used to help me sleep at night suddenly went away," he nods, not pushing you to say anything further. you both knew better than to have a shameful breakdown in public.

"god, i keep forgetting that the air conditioning in here is the worst," you grumble under your breath, rubbing your hands together to keep them from freezing out... because bokuto was no longer there to keep them warm, no longer there to offer you his own hands because you both forgot your gloves at home, no longer there to blow on them as if it was effective (it distracted you both at least), no longe—

"here, give me your hand," konoha reaches out to you, palms awaiting for yours to be in contact with his. you blink, surprised by his sudden offer, along with the pink hues that dusted both sides of his cheeks.

"we can't have them becoming numb, can we? i... i want to hold these hands for a very long time, you know?" he stutters as he begins rubbing both of your hands together, successfully getting rid of the cold and providing a new warmth you never expected will come sooner. oh... it's time, huh?

"uhm... yeah... thank you," you felt your face get hot. it seems like something... rather, someone has come to distract from the coldness you've been recently feeling.

"give me your days," he coughs out, still blushing. if anything, he's flushing even more now, "i'll fill the emptiness in them... and... and i can be your dream so you can sleep tight... and you'll be mine."

you gape at him, thousands of scenes flying through your mind but all of them led to one specific scenario.

"i... i have a lot of dreams, yn! i want to become a star player, someone who everyone will look up to and cheer for! and i... i think i want to focu—"

"i get it, bo. i'll get out of your way then. thank you... for everything."

"i-i'll be your dream?"

konoha chokes on his own saliva, "y-yeah! don't make me repeat it though, do you even know how cheesy that sounds? i can't believe i just said that, god... the things you make me do, you...!"

"okay."

it was his turn to blink, "e-eh?"

"i guess this is day one then?"

"eh?! wait... we... we're dating now, right?!"

"shut up now, aki."

as his golden eyes observe the two figures sitting by the stands, bokuto wishes he could've seen sooner that you were the one he had always been dreaming of, yearning for; wishes it could be him that was holding your hands again and he swears to whoever god there is, he won't let go of them anymore.

but then again, it seems like you were finally ready to wander with someone that wasn't him— who was he to stop you from doing so?

he was just a star;

you were the whole universe,

his universe.

#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #osamu x reader #bokuto x reader #osamu headcanons #bokuto headcanons #haikyuu writings #haikyuu angst #miya osamu #bokuto kotaro #haikyuu fics #hq x reader #haikyuu hcs #post break-up heartaches

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thosewickedlovelies · 3 years

Text

The answer | Frankie Morales x GN!Reader x Santiago Garcia

Summary: Questions are asked and answered. Takes place immediately following “Ask me”

Rating: E for Explicit

Tags: SMUT, threesome, reader is penetrated; best friends who have always been a little bit in love with each other vibes (inspired by this photo)

Word Count: 1,743

A/N: I’ve been kinda wanting to challenge myself to do a gender-neutral smut piece, and I thought this would be a good opportunity to do so :) I’ve never written anything like this before (in terms of both the gender-neutrality and the gay vibes), so I’m open to (gentle) constructive criticism <3

“Worry about me later, baby,” Frankie urges. “Right now what I want is to take care of you.” Nectar drips from his voice like that fateful fruit, slicking your descent toward sweet surrender.

"Or watch me take care of you, anyway,” Santiago adds. Still crouched on his knees before you, lips glistening, the round of his spine suggests laser-focus, a predator about to pounce. There’s a hint of a smirk on his face, but the look in eyes is deferent as he glances over your shoulder to Frankie.

Your partner’s body enfolds you like a silk hammock, a warm, rippling sea in which you have no fear of drowning. Frankie’s chest is bare and smooth against your back, supporting you as if he’s only here to reinforce your pleasure, and not partake of it himself. Although if his words from moments ago were any indication, he was indeed getting his own enjoyment:

“Too good to me, baby,” murmured through sloppy kisses and removing clothes.

“Fuck, you look so good between us,” groaned into your ear while you squirmed, callused fingers on your nipples and Santi's mouth on your neck.

“Yeah, let me hear you,” satisfaction barely audible over the irrepressible moan that Santi drew from you as he slowly worked you open.

Meaningfully Frankie skates his palms down over your hips, dipping tantalizingly close to the burning between them before winging away. Fingers digging into the plush flesh, he spreads your thighs for Santi.

Again. The air vanishes from your lungs at Frankie’s gesture.

He keeps you pinned open as Santiago inches forward and you’re certain you’re trembling, even as fresh arousal wells in anticipation. This feels so much more, somehow- suddenly immediate and undeniable that you’re really here, about to be fucked by your boyfriend’s best friend while said boyfriend holds you open for him.

Perhaps because this isn’t just affecting you. You note, through the throbbing heat demanding your attention, the tension in Frankie’s body framing you. How careful Santi is about where he places his hands- on you or the couch, no longer bold and teasing with Frankie. The skitter of his gaze, like he doesn’t know quite where to focus now that he’s facing both of you so directly. You wonder where Frankie is looking.

When Santi is finally nestled to the base inside you, an inch for every panting breath, you’re not the only shaky one. His muscles quiver with the effort of holding himself over you, the feeling of you engulfing him threatening to overwhelm his good sense. For a moment there is only the strained rise and fall of your chests as both men wait for you to adjust. It’s akin to being rocked by the swells of an ocean, only in this case your anchor is Santiago, keeping his hips flush with yours, keeping you present on the delicious, searing stretch of his cock.

Frankie’s tongue on your neck makes you shiver, and Santi gasps when you clench around him. Smiling, you admire the gleam of sweat at his temples, the desperate lines around his squeezed-shut eyes. It’s difficult to maneuver yourself in this position, but you arch your body into his as best you can, giving him permission to move with a squeeze of his muscular ass.

A raspy laugh slips from him. It’s a bit clumsy at first- accommodating to the weave of limbs in which the three of you are entangled. Possibly this would be easier on a bed or even the floor, but it’s far too late to move now, lost in each other as you are. You know the boys would agree- even if you had the opportunity to be transported with merely a snap of the fingers, it feels right that this should happen here, on a slightly cramped couch, stifling smiles and snorts of laughter but never your eagerness for each other.

Santiago is impossibly beautiful like this. Every hard-earned muscle on display, working in harmony to the cadence that’s always swayed the three of you, however unconsciously. His eyes half-lidded and hazy, his little groans of effort and pleasure complementing Frankie’s caresses. It’s clear from Frankie’s own awed murmurs that he’s experiencing the same bliss you are, and he lets his hands linger on your front so his knuckles brush Santi’s torso. Like strings on a loom pulling gradually tighter, the design you three are creating becomes steadily clearer.

“Damn,” Frankie says hoarsely. The angle of your head prevents you from seeing his expression fully, but you make a wordless sound of wholehearted agreement.

“Mm?” Santiago hums in question despite his own daze, spying something in Frankie’s face that you missed.

“Just…it’s obvious which one of us aged better.”

Frankie’s voice is strained, his body tense. He’s been hard since the moment Santiago said yes, but a tangible slippery patch has grown against your back while the other man rocked in and out of you, long, measured strokes making an easy smear of Frankie’s cock.

Santi looks up, startled. Then his smile crooks. “Shut up, Frank,” he laughs, and the kiss to your shoulder doesn’t feel like it’s for you.

Frankie chuckles, raspy and affectionate, and it’s like the picture is finally identifiable, an outline of this potential future woven clear.

The turn of your head gets their attention. Santiago slows his hips as you stretch your neck toward Frankie, his lips just reachable in this position. But Santi’s thrusts still entirely when you face him next, your kiss brim-full of the same contentment you’d given Frankie. Something fraught flickers between the two men when you pull back; Santiago looks almost shy as, hesitantly and then all at once, he presses his lips to the corner of Frankie’s mouth for a lingering, reverent second.

Frankie’s eyes close and his head tips back as Santi drops his forehead to your shoulder. His curls catch on the bristly hair of Frankie’s jaw, steady, rhythmic again, and you’re not sure of the delineations between your bodies anymore. You feel full, in more ways than one, surrounded both physically and emotionally.

Frankie’s moans are music to your ears as you reach behind you, stroking his cock as best you can while semi-laying on it. Fuck, his husky sounds never fail to heat your blood- a new experience for Santiago, you’re guessing, from the way his eyes flare, fixed on his friend’s dropped-open mouth. There’s been no particular hurry to your activities thus far, but a sense of urgency is growing now, blossoming with every drag of skin on skin, every throaty plea weighting the humid air.

It’s not long before Santi’s grasp on your shoulder slips, flushed with sweat as you are. Fumbling, he braces himself on Frankie’s broader frame, and your partner holds his hand in place, unthinking. Santiago swears. He looks you over, eyes a little wild, then back up at Frankie, imploring.

Obliging, Frankie’s other hand snakes down your front, fingers searching, circling where you’re most sensitive. Distantly you’re aware of him rutting against your back, tiny whines scraping his throat with a familiar desperation. Everything in you tightens around the slick jerk of his fingers.

You cry out as you come, hips arching into Santiago, flattening Frankie’s hand between you. Santi gasps ragged and guttural as you spasm around him, and your rapture careens abruptly higher at the speed and force with which he’s suddenly slamming into you. A jumble of hands hold your shuddering frame in place as Santiago finds his own release, shoving the three of you impossibly deeper into each other.

For a moment it feels as if you’re floating, your body tethered only by the bruising clutch of your hands and theirs. As your awareness returns, you notice that Frankie is rigid behind you, still quivering, his lower half contorted as if to gain as much contact with your skin as possible.

Oh. There’s far too much wetness against your back for it to just be sweat.

A giddy, dreamy laugh wisps from your next exhale. Frankie doesn’t react, but Santi rolls his head to face you with a drowsy hm?

You disentangle one of your hands and lift it to gently rub Frankie’s scalp with your fingertips, tousling the curls as if scratching a pet’s ears. “Just glad we were all able to make it.” Your still-breathless tone carries your meaning. You twist your head to kiss the nearest bit of him, which happens to be his jaw.

Santi lifts his head, his expression somewhere between surprised and smug. Frankie only gives an airy shrug, inclining his head to mouth at your shoulder; the space now shared by both men’s faces.

“Meant what I said,” Frankie offers in his low voice. His gaze flits over what it can reach of Santiago’s naked body.

Surprise completely overtakes the smugness in Santi’s face, his mouth curving up as if he’s powerless to stop it. You observe in delighted disbelief. You know from experience how much it normally takes to make Santiago blush- yet here he is, all afluster at a few words from Frankie. Chuckling, Santi ducks his head again.

You wriggle sideways slightly so as to better see more of Frankie’s face, a shift that results in Santi leaning on him with his whole arm and flank. The thoughtful flicker of his eyes over Frankie’s further exposed torso doesn’t go unnoticed.

“We’ll see,” is all Santiago says; but his contentment is palpable, his tiny smile a confession. Frankie relaxes as the other man collapses again, this time with his head more on Frankie’s shoulder than yours.

The sun is past its peak now, longer shadows interrupting its shine through the windows, but the three of you don’t need it. You can all but see the afterglow illuminating, the way the filaments of a lantern gradually brighten as they warm, casting gentle light on the possibilities presented here.

You regard Santi with an indulgent smile. You sweep it up to Frankie next, softening at the sight of his unruly hair and the relief with which he returns it. There’s an unspeakable kind of gratitude mingling with the adoration in his eyes. As if his thanks could possibly be necessary; as if you would have ever denied either of them the opportunity to explore such long-contained feelings, no matter what your original proposition for this afternoon may have been.

“Next time,” Frankie murmurs, his lips brushing Santiago’s brow, “we’re doing this in a bed.”

Taglist: @thirstworldproblemss, @leonieb

#triple frontier fic #triple frontier #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #frankie x reader x santi #triple frontier imagine

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reki-of-the-valley · 3 years

Text

Summer Time (Family) Madness

Hi. I can explain. Actually, I can't, so just accept these 19k words

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AO3 | Original Chapter 1 | Original Chapter 2 | Original Chapter 3 | Original Chapter 4

“Can you hurry up in there?” Langa nearly dropped his phone in the sink at the sound of Emily’s muffled voice, her pounding on the bathroom door tensing his shoulders. “You’ve been hogging the bathroom for like two hours now!”

It was the third time she had marched up to the bathroom to pound angrily. It was the third time Langa nearly caused an accident from the shock. It was the third time she was demanding to be let in, but like the last two tries, Langa refused. No matter how much she insisted, there was no way she was coming in.

“What the hell are you even doing in there to take you so long?”

Langa sighed, rolling his eyes in annoyance. “If you listened once in your life, you’d know when I warned you this morning.”

He could hear her huffing on the other side of the door. He could easily imagine her, arms crossed, tapping her foot rapidly against the wooden floors of the apartment. He could picture her pout perfectly.

“Not my fault you decided to talk to me when I was very concentrated on making food. Eggs require my full attention and you know that! Last time I burnt them and we had to air out the entire apartment for like three hours!”

Langa snorted as he clicked his phone open. “Loser.”

The offended gasp on the other side of the door made it hard for him to bite back his laughter. Exaggerated dramatics just so happened to be one of Emily’s many pastimes. Causing scenes was one of her favorite things to do, ever since she was a child. She liked the attention it generated.

“Excuse me? What did you just call me?” There was a pause, only filled with Langa’s laughter. “You know what? Screw you! I’m coming in!”

Langa jumped from the counter on which was sitting as the doorknob turned. He crashed his body against the door as he half-yelled out a “no!,” shoulder pressed against it, his whole weight keeping it shut while Emily tried pushing her way in. A few times she had almost managed to overpower him, his socks slipping against the tiled floor, but he was still stronger than her. He managed to keep her at bay, even if she was getting very close to getting in.

“Go away! Leave me alone!”

“Learn to lock the door then, Pretty Boy! And I know you’re fully dressed! I haven’t heard any water run in over an hour so I know you’re not indecent!” She tried pushing the door open once more, managing just a crack before getting it slammed in her face again. “Let me in, Langa! I need my makeup bag and the good lighting!”

Langa sighed, finally giving in and stepping away from the door. It came swinging open, Emily stumbling in and crashing to the floor. She must have still been trying to overpower Langa, using her whole body to push the door open. And when he stepped aside, all her force against a door left ajar, it wasn’t surprising that she had found herself on the ground, glaring at him, gaping as she pointed at him.

“You piece of shit! You’re doing your hair without me!”

Langa couldn’t hold his laughter back anymore. It had only been a matter of time before he cracked. And the mixture of his own ridiculous state, hair pinned up with blue hair dye staining the nape of his neck, and Emily’s sprawled body on the ground, he couldn’t help it. Cracking turned into wholehearted laughter, eyes crinkling and smile starting to hurt.

“How dare you? How dare you not let me do it for you?”

Langa shook his head, trying desperately to calm his choked-up laughter. His tone was light and pitchy from the ridiculousness of everything. “Last time you did my hair, you fuck up my shirt and your hands were stained blue for two weeks straight. Also, we both got grounded for causing a scene on Christmas.”

Emily pursed her lips and huffed. “I still think that I did an amazing job.”

Langa hummed as he leaned back into the bathroom counter. His laughter had finally calmed, allowing him to catch his breath. His voice had dropped back to its regular pitch, no longer high from the giggles, but it remained light and happy. “I wouldn’t go as far as saying it was an amazing job.”

He bit his lip as Emily groaned, finally pushing herself off the ground to stand before him. She dusted her pajamas for a moment before glaring at him again, that pinched, ridiculous look of hers. “I still think you should have at least asked me to help you.”

“You’re just bitter that you can’t do anything to your hair because of your ballet and your parents.” Emily scrunched her nose as Langa turned to the sink to fish his phone out, a phone which he had dropped when he jumped for the door. “And I’ll have you know that I don’t need your help. I’ve been doing this way longer than you have.”

Emily gasped, a hand on her heart. Ever the drama queen, it seemed.

“How dare you?” Langa raised an eyebrow as he side-eyed the offended girl. “Without me, you’d be brown hair and boring!”

Langa blinked at the girl. “Rude.”

“You,” Langa recoiled as she jabbed his arm with her index, “never would have had the guts to do anything to your hair if it wasn’t for me! Too much of a perfect little good boy.”

Perfect little good boy? If Langa had to choose words to describe himself, those would not have been the ones he would have used. He’d have opted more for socially awkward and compliant to those that made him who made him nervous. He would have gone with quiet due to disinterest in most. He would have said calm from boredom. There were many ways to describe him, but 'perfect little good boy' was not one of them.

Langa simply huffed. “You’re one to talk, Little Miss Perfect.”

Silence fell between the two. Emily had pulled out her phone and set a makeup bag on the counter. Langa watched her quickly scroll through her photo album, up and down, as if she was looking for a specific image but didn’t want to go through them one at a time. Finally, she clicked on one. A picture of herself, one where she was clearly posing but unlike Langa, her poses looked natural. It was as if she were born for the camera.

Emily chuckled lightly as she set her phone on the counter, propped up against a bottle of lotion. She smiled as her eyes locked with Langa’s.

“RIP the only life, amirite?” Langa shook his head, but still laughed lightly at the girl. “Always gotta be the best. Can’t pass down that responsibility to anyone. Except, I guess,” Emily pulled out a brush from her bag, fluffing it a little before holding it to the light, “you have more of a rep to uphold for the grandmother. Sucks to be you, I guess.”

“Alright, alright, I get it.” Langa rolled his eyes as he clicked his phone open. 10 more minutes before he could wash out the excess color from his hair. “But seriously, I really am not some kind of perfect child. Far from it.” Emily raised an eyebrow as she dug through her makeup bag. “I’m serious, Emmy. I don’t know why you believe I’m this perfect kid, but I’m not.”

“Sure, buddy. Because all you’re missing to truly be the perfect little boy is for you to grow back into your natural color and cut your hair, which I was honestly starting to think you were about to do.” She pulled out a little black case from her bag, revealing some powdery product in which she dipped her brush before flicking it at Langa. “Was about time you touched up your roots.”

Langa sneezed, a strand of pinned-up hair slipping undone and slapping him in the face. He froze, staring at Emily with wide eyes. She wasn’t looking at him, but he could see her desperately trying to suppress her laughter, trying her best to not shake as she applied God knows what product to her face. With a shaky breath, he straightened himself out. He couldn’t bear looking at himself in the mirror, knowing that there would be a huge blue stain on his cheek. He couldn’t bear looking at the mess, so he contented himself with watching Emily meticulously apply product after product while he blindly pinned up his hair. Hopefully, he would be able to scrub off the blueberry blue from his face and hands.

Langa watched as his cousin pulled out far too many products which all looked the same. He watched as she dipped different brushes into different little cases and palettes, brushes of all sizes into powders of all colors. He watched in amazement as she added detail after detail, knowing exactly where everything went on her face.

It was amazing, borderline mesmerizing, to watch Emily apply her makeup. In all his life, Langa had seen his mother apply makeup, at most, three times. Or at least, he remembered three instances where he had watched her apply products to her face with the same precision as Emily. There was once when he had been 8. He remembered how excited she had been, painting her face with sparkly pinks and pretty browns. He remembered how giddy she had gotten when she had pulled out the forest green dress from her closet. Langa hadn’t understood it at the time, but it was probably for an anniversary dinner. His grandparents had babysat him that night, letting him stay up way past his bedtime.

There had also been a Christmas where he had watched her apply her makeup. He must have been 12, rushing to his parents’ room in a panic because he couldn’t find his favorite sweater. But as soon as he spotted his mother, he quiet down, mesmerized by her setup. The colors had always attracted him; there were so many of them and he always wondered how his mother knew which went well together. Colors had never been Langa’s strong suit; his coloring books and childish drawings had always looked terribly messy because he would color with colors that he liked, not with colors that harmonized well together. He would fill between the lines with the colors that he found pretty and attractive; bright colors like yellows and pinks and reds and greens, shimmering gold and silver as well. He liked things to pop, even if the final product wasn’t quite as pretty as he hoped. But when his mother colored her face, she always looked like a masterpiece, colors never clashing. Everything blended in perfectly, as if the colors were made for her. And she shined when she smiled, so proud of her work.

The last time Langa remembered watching his mother apply makeup to her face was for his father’s funeral. Neither one could bear being alone that day, so Langa had curled up on his parents’ bed while his mother got ready for the memorial. He watched as she applied light colors to her face, corrections to hide the blemishes that had appeared from the restless nights spent crying. He watched as she tried to paint her face, tried bringing it back to its natural brightness that had darkened from the tragedy. And he watched as she applied the dark, muted colors. No shiny pinks this time. No pretty browns. No sparkling glitter. Only dark earthly tones. Only sad colors. There had been nothing happy from that last time Langa had watched his mother decorate her face, exhaustion and pain bleeding through the normally pretty colors of her makeup palettes.

But watching Emily apply her makeup, watching the way she leaned over the counter to be closer to the mirror, it had Langa chuckling to himself. He didn’t feel sad like that last time he had seen his mother color her face. He also didn’t feel the same awe as when he had been 8 or 12. He felt playful this time, playful as he “accidentally” bumped into his cousin while she applied her eyeliner.

“Langa!”

Her screech had Langa ducking, covering his ears as he burst into laughter. A large streak of black ran from the corner of her eye all the way down her cheek. And she looked pissed, not that she had a right to be pissed; Langa’s blue-stained cheek was probably worse.

“Oops?”

“Oh, you’re so not sorry, you asshole!”

Langa simply shrugged, trying his best to not laugh as he grabbed the rubbing alcohol from the counter. Hopefully, with a bit of scrubbing, he’d be able to salvage his face. “Sucks to be you, I guess.”

Emily glared at Langa as she pulled out a bottle of makeup remover and wipes from her bag. “I hate you so much right now… Now I gotta try and get rid of-” she dramatically motioned her cheek- “without ruining too much of my hard work!”

“At least yours goes away. Me?” Langa finally looked himself in the mirror, assessing the mess that had been caused by his loose lock of hair. A big splotch of blue stained his skin, somehow managing to draw out every imperfection of his skin: his paleness, nearly transparency of his skin, the few remains of acne he never managed to get rid of, the weird mark that just appeared one day. There was nothing worse than having to stare himself down in a mirror. “I’m not so sure I can get all of this off. Even with the alcohol.”

“If it doesn’t go away completely,” Emily said, back to leaning over the counter as she reapplied her products and colors, “I’m sure I can manage to mix something up to match your skin tone.”

“You are not putting makeup on my face.”

She side-eyed him, stopping her applications for a moment before turning her attention back to her face. “Would you rather look like a Smurf?”

Langa inhaled sharply before staring at himself in the mirror again. The mark was huge, taking up almost the entirety of his cheek, and had splattered around his face. Blue freckles had appeared on his nose and under his left eye. And the color was vivid, impossible to miss. There was no way he was going to be able to scrub it all off without ripping his skin off with the harsh rubbing alcohol.

“Fine, but we never talk about it ever again.”

“Deal.”

“Now,” Langa waited for nothing to be touching Emily's face before shoving her towards the door, “I need the shower so get out!”

“Wait! Langa!” Emily tried digging her heels into the ground but was only pushed out the door, door which was slammed behind her. “I was almost done!”

“You’ll finish after. I won’t be long.”

“Liar! You always take like half an hour in the shower!”

Langa huffed as he locked the door. He wasn’t risking anything this time. “Patience is a virtue!”

“Fuck you! You don’t even know what the word virtue means!”

Langa sighed as he headed over to the shower. He played with the temperature for a few moments, hot to cold, trying to find a warm coolness that would lock the color in his hair. And with a deep breath, he stuck his head under the running water, trying his best to not soak his old t-shirt too much. If there was one thing Langa hated, it was the rinsing process; if he didn’t want blue streaks running down his bare back, he had to do the awkward leaning forward rinsing which was honestly easier with someone else but he did not want to ask Emily for assistance. That would make her way too happy and way too smug. He had said he was able to do things on his own after all.

He hadn’t managed to not make a mess of himself. His t-shirt was soaked, his pants as well, but at least he had managed to wash his hair without actually stepping into the shower. And he didn’t get any water in his eyes, so it could be counted as a victory. At least, to Langa, it felt like a victory. Emily, who was sitting on the floor next to the bathroom door, seemed less than impressed by his soaked mess when she glanced up from her phone.

“Too stubborn to ask for help?”

Langa stared at her for a moment before straightening out and making his way to his room. “Bathroom is all yours.”

He didn’t wait for her to get up or to say anything else before shutting his door behind him. Clumsily, he peeled his soaked shirt off and tossed it to the corner of his room. He’d have to hang it up to dry before dumping it into the hamper if he didn’t want to ruin his other clothes. But that would wait. His mind was elsewhere as he pulled open his drawer, digging through it to find something decent to wear. He had to find something special to wear, not the same shirt he wore every week.

Frustrated didn’t even begin to describe the heaviness that was starting to form in Langa as he moved between his dresser and closet for the fifth time already. Nothing felt appropriate; all he had was either old faded t-shirts or his clean school shirts. Nothing felt right. He should have gone shopping with Emily at the beginning of the summer, when he was showing her around. He should have picked something up, anything really. Anything was better than what he owned. Anything except what he owned would be appropriate for Reki’s birthday.

One last time, Langa sorted through his closet. His school jackets and pants had been hung up in a corner where he wouldn’t dirty them. He wouldn’t be using them for the next two months, so he had pushed them away, out of his view. But this time, he pushed through them, one by one, taking in every piece of clothing. They were all the same, but if ever-

A flash of color wedged between two black school jackets caught Langa’s eye. It wasn’t his, he knew that. Never in a million years would he have bought anything lime green for himself. But as soon as his fingers smoothed out the fabric, an involuntary smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. No doubt about it, it was Reki’s. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out; he was the only one who would own such a light-weighted lime green hoodie with the sleeves cut off to act as a t-shirt.

It was automatic, the slipping it over his head. Everything was on autopilot as Langa let the soft fabric fall over his shoulders. Everything hazed as he let himself be surrounded with the scent of Reki, the smell of the detergent his mother used. The smell of oranges was imprinted in the fabric from the numerous wash cycles it had gone through, no matter how long it had been sitting in Langa’s closet, surrounded by his clothes.

Langa could have stayed there all day, his nose buried deep in the collar of the hoodie. He could have stayed there all day, his eyes closed as he took in the sweet smell of the Kyan laundry detergent. He could have stayed there all day, lost in his own little world, but the real world had different plans for him. The real world wanted him there, in the present, listening to Emily’s voice through his door as she knocked ceaselessly.

“Will you open your door already? Why do you always take forever to get ready?”

Langa pulled his door open to reveal Emily rocking on her heels, fist still held up from the knocking. The smile that appeared as soon as the door opened dropped just as quickly, her face pinching as she took in the sight that was Langa.

“That’s not your color.”

“It’s not my shirt either.”

She pulled her eyebrows together as she stared at him. “Then why…?” Her face light up, smile bright and eyes even brighter. “Oh. My god. Don’t tell me you’re wearing your boyfriend’s shirt?”

Langa flushed as she practically squealed, both hands in her face. He swore he noticed tears forming at the corner of her eyes. Her dramatics were getting out of hand at this point.

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

“But you still are wearing Reki’s shirt. Wait!” The tears were gone, her whole expression having shifted from overly excited to amused mischief. “You’ve gotta tell me: is it made of boyfriend material?”

Langa groaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose and turned on his heel. He pulled the shirt over his head as he muttered “nope” under his breath, over and over again. He was not in the mood to be dealing with Emily’s endless teasing.

Her giggling resonated through his room, bouncing off the walls and surrounding him. It surrounded him the same way Reki’s scent had hazed his mind. There was no escaping it, and for some reason, as he slipped on a new shirt, Langa didn’t want it to stop. Not that he’d ever say it loud but he did like hearing the girl’s laughter. It was contagious and comforting, like a nursery rhyme that got stuck in one’s head far too easily.

“You think I should have gotten him something?”

The laughing died nearly immediately; the room plunged in a heavy silence. Slowly, Langa glanced over his shoulder, his eyes locking with Emily’s narrowed eyes.

“Langa, no. Stop overthinking this. You,” she took a deep breath before walking over to him and pulling his hair. “You’re taking him on a date and buying him essentially anything he wants!”

He yelped as he held the handful of hair defensively. It was but a little tug, but it still hurt! “Stop it! Stop pulling my hair. And stop calling it a date!”

“Well, that’s what it is! You,” Emily gestured him, “got all cute for him, so it’s totally a date! I mean, say you were going out with just me or your mom, would you have really touched up your roots?”

“Probably?” Emily raised an eyebrow at him, looking less than convinced. “I was overdue, so yes.”

The girl flopped down on his bed, bouncing a little as she sunk into the covers. “It could have waited until tomorrow or something, you know, when you would be completely free? No plans? But no, you chose to look good for your boyfriend-” she put her hands up defensively as Langa frowned and glared at her- “sorry, your not-yet-boyfriend. So if you could stop being in denial for five minutes and just-!” Emily huffed frustratedly, fingers digging into her eyes before straightening out. “Look, I don’t know how many times I’m going to tell you this, but you really should just tell him how you feel. It would literally make everyone’s lives easier, yours especially.”

Langa sighed as he leaned back against his wall, his body sliding down to the ground. There he sat, one leg crossed under him while he pulled his other knee to his chest. His shoulders sagged against the wall as he stared up at his ceiling. “I’m not telling him. I’m not telling him, especially not today. There is no way I’m ruining his birthday with my dumb feelings for him.”

“Stop calling your crush dumb. Your feelings are not dumb or stupid or a bother or whatever you’re afraid they might be. And you don’t know, but that could be the best birthday present Reki could ever ask for.”

“No.”

Emily sighed as she fell over in his bed, pulling one of his pillows to her chest and curling around it. “Fine. I’ll drop it for now. But we’re coming back to this.” She sat back up, pushing herself to the edge of the bed, ready to get up. “What’s more appropriate for his place? Sundress or shorts?”

Langa’s knees dropped to the ground as Emily jumped to her feet and made her way across the room. She looked down on him, his shadow disappearing under hers. And like a child, he stared up at her with big eyes, asking the wrong question.

“Remind me again, why are you following me to Reki’s?”

Emily puffed her cheeks as she crossed her arms, looking even more childish than he did. How many times in the past had they been in this exact position, Langa small under her hard gaze? How many times in the past had Langa said the wrong thing to her, not telling her exactly what she wanted to hear? How many times before had she been bigger than him, having the upper hand simply due to her age? Too many times, though they had been children during all those years where she had been the boss of him. She had had pigtails and chubby cheeks, pink unicorn t-shirts or sparkly dresses. She had also been taller than him back then, stronger too. Next to her, he was tiny in his sweaters that were too long for him and pants he’d trip over. They had been children then, fussy and clumsy and short-tempered. Well, not that that last part really changed. But still, even if they did occasionally act like a bunch of undisciplined children, but they did have the capacity of being mature about things. If they put in the effort.

“Because he’s also my friend now and I want to give him his birthday present. You know, the one I already bought instead of relying on him to point out something he likes.”

Langa rolled his eyes as she stuck her tongue out at him. They had the capacity of being mature, but childish natures were far more powerful. If maturity had been an easy thing, then many arguments could have been avoided, like the week of pouting and ignoring one another.

“I’m putting on the dress,” Emily said, throwing her hair over her shoulder as she strutted out of Langa’s room.

“If you’re not ready in 20 then I’m leaving you behind!” Langa called out as he pushed himself off of his floor. Much like Emily, he also had some getting ready to do, such as changing his now nearly dry pants. Even if he wasn’t dressing for Reki, he still had to be presentable. Had they just gone out to skate, Langa wouldn’t have minded his worn-out sweatpants, stained from the many times he had done his hair or the few times he had helped his father paint rooms in their old house, but given that he was going out, he rather not look too trashy. And despite Reki’s insistence that sweatpants were far more comfortable than jeans, Langa had to disagree. He rather the cling of fabric to the fear of losing clothing that wasn’t fitted to his body.

---

Langa glanced back at Emily as he knocked on the front door of the Kyan house. He watched as she rocked back and forth on her heels, playing with the flowy fabric of her sundress and clutching a little gift bag. He watched her take in the house’s exterior, brown eyes flickering all over. He watched her, observed her, almost fascinated by her; it was the first time in years that he saw her look nervous.

“You look fine, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Emily froze as her eyes fixated on Langa. Her head was tilted to the side, like that of a confused puppy, as she pulled her eyebrows together, frowning.

“You seem nervous, that’s all,” he clarified.

“I’m…” She huffed and straightened herself out, holding her little bag to her chest. She also took a deep breath as she clicked her heels together twice, like a magic spell that would make all her stress roll off of her as she put on that signature bright smile of hers. “I’m okay.”

“No one bites. They’re maybe a little…” Langa hummed, thinking back to the first time he had been in the Kyan household, “curious about their guest, but they’re really welcoming and sweet.”

Emily shook her head, chuckling a little to herself. “I’m not worried about that. I’m just…” She clicked her heels again. “I’m not that great with parents? I just… I don’t know what it is about them, but they just intimidate me.”

“Trust me, there is nothing intimidating about Reki’s mother. Mom is a terrifying monster next to her.”

Emily’s laughter was sweet as she shoved Langa playfully. “Don’t say that about Auntie Nanako!”

“I’m just saying that Mrs. Kyan is really nice!”

“Don’t call your mother a monster!” She bit her finger to calm her laughter before dropping her voice to a whisper. “Auntie Nanako can be really scary though. When she’s mad? Absolutely terrifying.”

“You know who else is terrifying and you should beware of?” Emily raised an eyebrow as she shook her head. “The twins. They are absolutely terrifying.”

Langa laughed along as Emily snorted, his serious exterior dropping completely at the sound of her giggles. It was hard to remain stoic when someone was choking on their laughter right next to you. It was hard to not laugh along with them.

“You… You’re just afraid of children, Langa! You’re terrified of anything that comes to bellow your waist.”

“They’re just… They’re scary.”

“I’m sure they are absolutely adorable. How old did you say they were? Four? Five?”

Langa nodded as the door opened. Langa knew it wasn’t Reki opening to let him in as the door wasn’t swinging open. There were no shouts to greet him, excited ushering into the house. It was someone else and Langa froze, Mrs. Kyan’s figure taking up most of the door as she grinned at him, clasping her hands together excitedly.

“Langa! Reki didn’t tell me you were coming today.” She pressed her lips into a thin line before chuckling. “I should have expected you to come, though.”

“Ah, well…” Langa bites the inside of his cheeks, shoulders closing to make himself seem smaller. Despite being over multiple times a week, Langa still felt nervous around Reki’s mother. She was a sweet woman, he couldn’t deny that, but it didn’t mean that he knew how to address her. Despite her welcoming warmth, Langa still found a way to be terribly awkward around her. “Is Reki home?”

Mrs. Kyan opened the door wider, gesturing him in. Langa didn’t lose a second to slip into the house, kicking his shoes off and tossing them onto the pile of Reki’s shoes. He slipped into the hallway as he normally did, but something held him back. He was forgetting something. Someone. Emily.

Langa turned back to the front door where Mrs. Kyan was still standing. He couldn’t see her face, but he did have a perfect view of Emily’s frozen body, shoulder tense as she stood as straight as possible. Her eyes were huge as she stared at the older woman, her little gift bag starting to crumple under her tense fingers. He’s never seen her so stiff and terrified looking.

“And you are, dear?”

“Emily?”

Langa snickered at the pitchiness of his cousin’s voice. She was always so mocking and self-assured, or at least until she was faced with a parent. Then suddenly she looked like a child who had just touched something she shouldn’t have, big eyes and terrified of being scolded, not that Mrs. Kyan was going to scold her. Not only did she have nothing to reproach the girl, but she was also the sweetest woman Langa had ever met. Only once had he seen her edging into angry mom territory, mildly scolding her son for his messy room.

“Emily!” Mrs. Kyan brought her hands together once more, her grin even bigger than before if that were even possible, before ushering the girl in. “Oh, you have such a lovely name! And my Reki’s told me all about you! So, you’re visiting your aunt for the summer, right? That’s very sweet of you! I’m sure Nanako is appreciating having you over! I’m sure she’s loving having someone at home, given that the boys are always out and about. They go out in the morning and come back far too late if you really want to know, but I can’t say anything about that; I wouldn’t want to discourage their adventures. But girls, always so calm at home. Are you enjoying Japan, dearest?”

Langa clasped his hands over his mouth to muffle his hysterical laughter. Emily looked like her head was spinning from all the questions. She looked terrified and so very lost, probably not being able to keep up with Mrs. Kyan’s fast-talking. Whenever Langa or Reki spoke Japanese to her, they would make sure to talk slower, give her time to associate the Japanese to her native English, but Mrs. Kyan seemed unaware of the girl’s struggles. She seemed unaware of the possible language barrier that was horrifying the girl. And just for a moment, Langa wondered if he has seemed as terrified as Emily that first day he had met Reki’s family.

“I… I’m enjoying Japan very much. There is a lot to see and it’s fun. And I like staying with Auntie.”

“Oh, dearest, I’m so sorry.” Mrs. Kyan smiled kindly as she slowed her speech. “I hadn’t realized you weren’t completely fluent. I just assumed since Langa was when he first arrived, must have been too. Apologizes.”

Emily chuckled, slowly falling back into her usual cheeriness as she shook her head, assuring Mrs. Kyan that she had nothing to apologize for. Still, she remained shy, something so strange on her. “A lot of people assume I’m good at Japanese. I don’t mind. It’s okay. I understand, just a little slow.”

“You are doing amazing, dear. My poor Reki, he only speaks Japanese and he still manages to be bad at it at times. But he’s really trying to learn English, and I think spending time with you and Langa has really helped him. I know his grades in English have gone up since he’s become friends with Langa, though I do hope it’s because he’s actually working on learning and not making Langa do his homework and projects for him. That would be-!” Her gaze caught onto Langa who was just standing there awkwardly in the hall, lips pressed in a thin line as he waited. “Oh! Reki should be in the living room. He was watching a movie with Chihiro and Nanaka earlier and I don’t think it’s done yet.”

Langa nodded, thanking the woman before making his way through the house. He had grown accustomed to the home, but still, he didn’t like wandering around it all on his own. He was so used to Reki accompanying him everywhere that it was a little unsettling to be walking around all alone. Thankfully, Emily had been freed from Mrs. Kyan’s near-endless questions as the woman returned to the kitchen, letting the girl rejoin her cousin’s side to follow him around.

Chatter filled the house, nothing unusual when it came to the Kyans, but the voices weren’t any that Langa could recognize. He didn’t hear Chihiro and Nanaka’s high-pitched childish squeals. He didn’t hear Koyomi’s annoyed voice, her constant sighs or shouts. He didn’t even hear Reki’s endless chatter, his excited voice which usually bounced off every wall. No, none of the voices he heard could be identified. They were all so… unknown.

“What’s with the weird look on your face?”

“There are people in this house.”

Emily sent him a pointed look of disapproval, annoyance dulling her eyes. “Yeah dumbass, that’s usually what happens when you go to people’s house; there are people in them.”

“No, I mean, I don’t recognize the voices.”

Emily sighed as she pulled him along. “Just go find Reki and stop worrying about who’s in the house.”

“But what if we’re-!”

Langa’s breath caught in his throat as he stopped in the living room entrance. Mrs. Kyan was right; Reki was watching a movie with his little sisters. What she failed to mention was that no one was watching said movie. Both girls had cuddled up against their brother, each on one side and fast asleep. Chihiro had gotten comfortable, her head on Reki’s lap as she squeezed her cat plush against herself, while Nanaka had been tucked under Reki’s arm, warm against him. Both girls clung to their brother, but what truly caught Langa’s attention was the infant pressed against his chest, sleeping as soundly as the twins.

Langa wasn’t one to be impressed by children; they were fine, he had nothing against them, but they made him uncomfortable. They were small and squishy and terrifying with their brutal honesty and impulsivity, not that he was much better on that those last points. They made him uncomfortable, never knowing how to act around them. Langa never knew what he was allowed to say or do around children, so, if he could, he avoided them like the plague, but seeing Reki so calm, holding the child in his arms, Langa could help but want to get near. Seeing Reki look so soft, tired eyes as he cooed at the sleeping child, it had Langa’s heart flipping in his chest. He seemed lost in his own little world, pressing kisses to the little head, and for a moment Langa imagined an impossible future. Because while he didn’t particularly like children, but it was obvious that Reki did.

Emily’s hand on his shoulder drew Langa out of his daze. She nodded solemnly, sounding and looking far too serious for herself.

“It’s okay. You’re allowed to be gay. I won’t stop you.”

Without any hesitation, Langa slapped the girl’s hand away before shooting her a glare. “Do you mind?”

“No, actually I don’t mind you so very obviously pinning.”

“I will stab you.”

Emily grinned, her usual twinkle bright in her eyes as she shook her head. “We both know you won’t.”

“I hate you.”

“That,” she rocked on her heels, before stepping into the living room, walking over to Reki, “I believe.”

Langa was quick to follow her, Reki’s eyes having lifted away from the baby. A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, bright but tired as he greeted his two guests. Seeing him so calm was a little unsettling, yet so endearing. Because while Langa knew that Reki hated being still for more than 10 seconds, he had found a way to suppress that need to be in action if it was for the comfort of his little sisters and this child he was holding. For others, Reki would do almost anything.

“Sorry, I would have answered the door, but as you can tell, I’m a little…” His eyes fell onto the three kids cuddled up against him, all snoring softly.

“Well,” Emily did her little grabby hands at the baby, to which Reki laughed as she picked up the infant, “I can rid you of this little prince!”

She giggled as she held the baby, making sure to support its head and back. It looked like second nature to her, the way she swayed with the sleeping child which had begun to stir. Langa couldn’t help but wonder how she was so comfortable with the baby, how she knew exactly what to do. He knew he would have frozen, stiff as a board, had he been presented with the infant.

“What?”

Langa blinked at the girl as she rocked the child in her arms, her gaze pointed at him.

“Langa’s just terrified of children.”

Langa gaped a little at Reki. He seemed so content with his answer as he leaned back into the couch, getting comfortable as he petted his sisters’ heads. Langa gaped as Emily and Reki continued with their conversation, attack upon attack about how clueless Langa was with children. And he couldn’t do anything to defend himself since, technically, all they were saying was the truth.

“You’re surprisingly really good with kids.”

“What do you mean ‘surprisingly’? I work with kids year-round at the studio!”

Langa watched as the two talked about children, Reki laughing as he recounted stories of all his sisters, Emily going on about her latest group of ballerinas. Langa listened to their easy chatter as he stood there, hands in pockets, completely silent. He had nothing to add; the most he had dealt with regarding children was the occasional moments when Reki had to babysit Chihiro and Nanaka while he was over, and even then, Reki was the one really playing with them. He’d go along with their games, watch them color, occasionally even joining in, but Reki was always there controlling the situation. He had never found himself alone with children as Reki and Emily had. He knew nothing of childcare, so he stood awkwardly to the side, glancing between the two.

“I gotta say though, I don’t have many opportunities to hold such cuties.” Emily pressed a kiss to the baby’s chubby cheek. “You’re the prettiest little boy!”

“So,” both Emily and Reki turned to Langa, looking at him as if they had forgotten he was even there, “who’s the kid?”

Reki grinned, his smile squeezing Langa’s heart. “My cousin’s baby. The whole family used my birthday as an excuse to get together.” His eyes locked with Langa’s, playful and bright. “You’re not the only one with cousins, dude.”

“I…” Langa shook his head. “I know that.”

Reki snickered at him, and from his laughter, Nanaka woke up. Her little eyes slowly opened, hands rubbing the sleep off of her face, before snapping wide awake. Langa recoiled as she jumped off the couch, dashing right to him, arms wrapping around his leg as she cried his name. Awkward as always, he patted the girl’s head as she held up a stuffed dog to him.

“Langa! Look! Look! My auntie gave it to me today!”

“I… uh… that’s nice?”

He shot a glare at both Emily and Reki who were holding back their laughter. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know how to interact with the tiny humans; he had never been in a situation where he would have to interact with younger children than himself. He was the youngest of his family and an only child. There were no opportunities for him to learn about their strange little mannerisms.

“Alright, Nanaka, don’t go scaring Langa now. What did we say about invading people’s personal space?”

The girl stared at her brother before looking up at Langa. Her little face looked heartbroken as she slowly peeled herself off of him, taking a step back. She clutched her plush, pressing it to her chest, as she stared at the ground. A little more and Langa was such she was going to burst into tears.

Langa sighed as he crouched down to her height, trying his best to smile at her. “So, what’s your dog’s name?”

The signature Kyan excitement glowed in the girl’s face as she held her plush out to him to hold. Much like her brother, she rambled away, giving every little childish detail she could come up with regarding her new toy. Its name was Blue because it was a blue dog, it was a boy because it was blue, it liked playing outside with her, and so on. Langa listened to her every word, nodding along as she went on, always just as excited. And in her, he saw Reki. He saw his creativity, his excitement, his happiness. In Reki’s little sister, Langa saw the boy that had captured his attention from that first day they had met.

Nanaka’s chatter only came to a stop when a smaller, shier Chihiro approached the two. She too, held a plush in her hands. Little pointy ear on a purple round head rested in her little palms, the toy being held out to Langa. Unlike her sister, Chihiro was hesitant around Langa. Of the whole family, she was by far the quietest, always hidden behind someone, but she still had that Kyan excitement. And when Langa picked up the purple plush, her smile grew.

“Her name is Sumire.”

“That’s a pretty name.”

It was strange how easy it was to smile at the girl. Langa could sense her wariness, he could see it in the way she twisted the hem of her dress, not quite able to meet his eyes, but he could also see how much she wanted to tell him about her toy. He could see her back and forth, desire to share but fear of talking to him, and that alone had him smiling, a little something to encourage her to keep going.

“She likes drinking milk. It’s her favorite food.”

Langa nodded at her, his eyes only looking up from the twins when Reki’s figure appeared behind them. He placed a hand on each of his sisters’ heads, drawing their attention to him.

“How about you two go play with Komi instead? I’m sure she’ll let you play with all her stuffed animals and,” Reki crouched down, his voice dropping to a whisper, “if she says no, tell her it’s my birthday. She won’t be able to send you away.”

The two girls squealed as they grabbed their stuffed animals from Langa’s hands and dashed out of the living room. Their giggles resonated through the house as Reki let his body drop onto the floor, legs crossed as he huffed.

“I’m so sorry, dude. I keep telling them to leave you alone, but I’m pretty sure they’re in love with you. Pretty much everyone in this house is.”

Langa felt his face heat at the words. Pretty much everyone in this house is. Was Reki included in those people? Probably not, since it was pretty much everyone. Pretty much implied that some people weren’t and those some people were probably Reki. But still, Langa hopelessly hoped that maybe, just maybe, Reki was included in those people. He hoped, even if, deep down, he knew Reki didn’t like him. Not like that, at least.

“Hey, Emily?” Reki tilted his head back to look at the girl who was still standing there, lightly bouncing with the baby. “You want me to take him? I can bring him back to his mom. I mean, I think he should be due for feeding or something.”

She shook her head, her eyes still glued on the little one in her arms. “It’s fine, I can bring him back myself. You look exhausted anyway.” Her eyes flickered between the two boys on the floor, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Everyone in the kitchen?”

Reki nodded as he directed Emily towards the kitchen. With a bounce in her step, she made her way out of the living room, leaving Reki and Langa all alone in their comfortable quiet. But still, Langa felt the heat in his face and in the tip of his ears. He flushed as Emily walked out, sending him one last knowing look, her eyes quickly flickering towards Reki. And when Langa’s eyes followed her gaze, his breath caught once more in the base of his throat. Reki with his head tilted back once more, eyes closed as he leaned on the palms of hands, the sun kissing his face through the open window, it was a sight worthy of a masterpiece. He got impossibility prettier with every passing day, and when he straightened out, smile bright as always, Langa felt stupid for the grin that grew across his own face.

“Wanna go to my room? It’ll probably be more comfortable than here.”

Langa didn’t answer, simply pushing himself off the ground. Out of habit, he held his hand out to Reki, but the moment his calloused fingers brushed against Langa’s, his grip on his hand tightening, Langa felt himself flush. Heat rose as he pulled Reki up, their touch lingering a beat too long as they stared at each other. Everything lasted a beat too long, their eyes locking, breathes catching, cheeks flushing. Or maybe that was just Langa as he pulled his hand back, quickly stuffing it in his pocket before he did anything he would regret. And Reki mirrored him, both his hands diving for the pocket of his hoodie.

“So… my room?”

Langa gave the boy a curt nod before following him out of the living room. Chatter bounced off the walls of the house, but none of it was Reki’s. Reki was silent as he wandered through the halls, eyes fixated in front of him. Heavy dread formed in the pit of Langa’s stomach as he watched Reki, Reki who usually rambled away whenever Langa was present. Reki who was usually so loud had fallen dead quiet.

“Reki?” The boy turned to Langa, but still, he moved forward. “Reki, what’s wrong?”

“What? Nothing’s wrong?”

“But you’re so quiet. You’re only ever quiet when something’s bothering you.”

A smile pulled on the corners of his mouth as he pulled Langa into his room, quietly sliding his door shut. Even his laughter was contained, not bubbling and loud as it usually was. Everything Reki did was quiet, almost silent and so unlike himself.

“Reki? Is it because I didn’t bring you anything? I told Emily I should, but then I was supposed to-!”

“Dude, no! No, dude, really, nothing’s wrong. I just,” he sighed, but still he smiled. “If my mom knew I was locking myself in my room instead of being with all the guests, she’d kill me. But if she doesn’t know, then she can’t scold at me, y’know? I promise, nothing’s bothering me. I’m actually really happy right now.”

Langa blinked, suddenly feeling foolish for his wave of worry. But he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help picking up on Reki’s little signs, even if sometimes he misinterpreted them. Reki so rarely said how he was truly feeling, especially when it came to asking for help or admitting that he was feeling down. Langa had to do with what he had, and sometimes that meant misreading the signals.

“There’s no need to worry, I promise, but it’s nice knowing that you picked up on that.”

“Of course I did. How could I not when I’m-” in love with you?- “your best friend?”

Langa flinched as Reki threw himself at him, his arms circling around Langa’s neck in a tight hug. His hair tickled Langa’s cheek as he buried his face in the space between his arm and Langa’s neck. His body was warm against Langa’s, the warmth between them hazing Langa’s mind as he slowly registered what was happening. Everything happened in a blissful daze, from the smile blossoming across his face to the hug he returned.

“You’re my best friend too,” Reki whispered, his warm breath heating Langa’s cheeks. “Thank you for worrying about me.”

“I’ll always worry about you. Even when you don’t want me to.”

Reki’s laughter was sweet against Langa’s skin. Light and breathy, happiness shone through as his fingers curled around the back of Langa’s shirt, holding him so tightly. And the proximity having hazed everything for Langa, it had him squeezing Reki as his cheek pressed against the wild red hair.

“Happy birthday, Reki.”

Reki lingered on, his hold on Langa not loosening for a moment. Well, for a moment it did, just enough for him to peel himself off of Langa, creating just enough distance between the two for them to look each other in the eye. A smile curled onto Reki’s lips as he chuckled. He was always so beautiful looking, the soft sunshine filtering through his curtains and making his eyes shine.

Langa felt himself flush as Reki took his face in his hands. Warmth like a wildfire erupted under Langa’s skin, hot, beautiful warmth that spread through him, from his core to the very tip of his fingers. He burned hotter than the already hot summer air under Reki’s touch, a touch so soft and gentle. And when he spoke again, words coated by that hushed tone that felt it was just for Langa, he melted.

“Just…”

Langa melted as Reki returned to his arms, his body pressed so close. With Reki in his arms, everything faded away. All there was in Langa’s world was Reki, Reki and his warmth, Reki and his grip on Langa even tighter than before. With Reki in his arms, Langa had never been as happy as in that moment, overjoyed to have the boy all to himself for just a moment more.

“You give the best hugs, man.”

Langa laughed at the remark as he gave Reki’s body a squeeze. He laughed like it was all he knew how to do because if anything, Reki was the one who gave the best hugs. Langa was always cold and bony and awkwardly stiff, but Reki? Reki, he was so soft and warm whenever he found himself in Langa’s arms, even if it was but for an ephemeral moment.

“You’re just saying that because you like hugs.”

“No!”

Reki wiggled a little in Langa’s arms, just enough for him to loosen his hold on the boy so Reki could look at him. Langa felt his cheeks flare up once more as Reki took his face in his hands once more. The first time, Langa could have let it pass, try to not make anything of it, but the second time? The second time had his heart pounding in his chest, far too quickly for it to be normal. Because the first time, Reki had just smiled. The first one had just been a fleeting moment. The first time didn’t have Reki staring at him with his big, beautiful amber eyes, his head tilted to the side ever so slightly as he pushed Langa’s bangs out of his face, pushing the strand of hair behind his ear as calloused fingers lingered against burning skin. The first time, Langa had melted; the second time, he lost all his senses. Everything was lost to the blissful haze created by Reki’s touch and his hushed, scratchy voice.

“You really do give the best hugs, man. I don’t know what it is exactly but you just… you give the best hugs.”

Smiling was so easy around Reki. It came as naturally as the morning sun made its way into the sky. Everything Reki did, it had Langa smiling, because Reki had that power. He had the power to make happiness so easy, smiles impossible to hide away. Smiling was easy, but resisting the urge to pull Reki close, to close the little distance between the two, to press a kiss to his mouth, now that was hard. It was hard to not feel intoxicated by that smile, so sweet and genuine. It was hard to not be intoxicated by the compliments, always so grand. It was hard to not be intoxicated by all that was Reki, Reki with his heavy-lidded eyes and his pretty lips caught between his teeth. It was hard to not give in to temptation as his own eyes felt heavy, catching on the perfect curve of Reki’s mouth. It was hard when he felt his body betray him, the mirrored tilt of his head, the distance almost closed. Nothing had ever felt as hard as resisting Reki as their noses brushed against each other, heavy breaths mingling. Nothing…

“Hey, Reki? Your-” Emily stopped in the doorway, her eyes widening as she turned on her heel. “I’ll be back in 5!”

Langa’s arms dropped from Reki’s waist almost as fast as Reki’s hands had dropped from his face. The boy quickly freed himself from Langa’s arms to catch up with Emily, his fingers curling around her wrist before pulling her back to him. Her eyes were still huge as she stared at him and Langa could help but notice the slight pink tint of her face. It was barely noticeable, but Langa could see it. He could see how her freckles didn’t stand out as much against her pale skin.

“What’s up? What can I do for you?”

“I-! It, it was nothing. I mean, your mom told me to come to get you, but I’m sure it can wait a few more minutes! It’s your birthday after all, so it’s fine! It was nothing! You… You can go back to… Pretend I was never here, go back to whatever you were up to!”

Langa bit the inside of his burning cheeks as she gestured the general space of the room. He knew she wanted to point at him. He knew that she wanted to push Reki back to him, imply something had happened, something that didn’t – wouldn’t! – happen. He knew what she was thinking, and for that, he clenched his teeth, trying his best to control his uncontrollable blushing.

“We…” Reki stuffed his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, eyes flickering between Emily and Langa before suddenly grinning at the girl. “I was just thanking Langa. We weren’t really doing anything.”

“You…” Emily glanced at Langa who was still standing in the middle of the room, awkward against the backdrop, not that that was anything new for him. “You have a particular way of saying thank you.”

“What? You’ve never hugged someone as a thanks?”

“Hugs? You were just-” She recoiled, her eyes growing big once more as Langa shook his head as violently as he could behind Reki, gesturing her to shut up. “I mean, I hug people for a bunch of reasons! Hugs are great! I love hugs! Especially big, warm hugs!”

Langa cringed at Emily’s pitchiness, at how fake she sounded. She was a terrible actress, he had come to realize. A terrible actress and an even worse liar. She was terrible at recoveries but Reki didn’t seem to take notice of her horrible charade, simply opening his arms. He laughed as he opened his arms, and Langa felt his chest tighten. Reki was always so inviting and warm. He was always so wonderful. Always so welcoming.

“C’mere.”

And Emily laughed. She laughed as she moved into him, chin resting against his shoulder as her arms tightened around Reki’s body. She laughed so openly and genuinely, it had Langa digging his nails in palms. And when she had the audacity to smirk at him, winking as their eyes locked, he felt the wave of something burning crash against his chest. Everything burned, the feeling something close to destructive anger. It burned and Langa knew, shameful as it was, that it was most probably a wave of jealousy overcoming him as he watched Reki hold the girl so tightly against him. It was unfounded, he knew that, but it couldn’t be helped. He wanted to be the one holding Reki as he had been just moments ago. He wanted to be the only one to get to hold Reki that way, be the only one to feel his laughter so light.

The strange thing about this anger – jealousy – was that, despite hating every moment of being left out, standing to the side just to watch, it wasn’t necessarily the hug itself that had Langa clenching his teeth, nails digging into his palms. The core part of it wasn’t even the fact that Reki was hugging Emily, holding her so tightly against him. No, it was that she was rubbing it in his face, her eyes locked with his. It was that she was implying something he didn’t like. Her look alone had Langa guessing her every thought, something along the lines of “Don’t you wish this was you?” That, the implication bright in her eyes, was what had Langa resisting the urge to smack her with a pillow. That look was what had him seeing hazy red, because for once, she wasn’t off the mark at all.

It wasn’t long for the two to step away from each other, something awkward between them. Reki wasn’t looking directly looking at anyone, his gaze fleeting as he rubbed his nose and chuckled to himself, and Emily was clearly biting back her own laughter. Langa stared at the two, not understanding what was so funny; it had just been a hug. If anyone was to be awkward, it was him. He had been the third wheel, just standing there on his own. There was nothing funny about it because nothing had happened beyond a quick embrace, right? But the moment passed before Langa could question it any longer, Reki straightening out before turning to him.

“I’m,” Reki bit the inside of his lip as his eyes found Langa’s once more, a sort of softness veiling them as he smiled, “I’m gonna go see what my mom wanted, okay? Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Langa gave him a curt nod before crashing on his bed, a bed he was far too accustomed to. His eyes followed Reki as he left the room, following his every move until he was completely out of view, and even then, he continued to stare at where Reki had once been. He was only pulled out of his lost world when the mattress shifted, curving under Emily’s weight next to him. He was only pulled out of his head as her voice came through, her words slapping him across the face.

“You two were gonna kiss, weren’t you?”

Fire. Fire was the only way to describe the scorching heat in Langa’s face. Like Greek fire, it spread uncontrollably, completely unextinguishable. No amount of chugging water would make this fire go away, the smoke hazing Langa’s mind.

“No! We were-! There was-! It wasn’t-! We weren’t-! No! Stop making it weird!”

The deadpan look on Emily’s face was almost scary, her eyes narrowing on Langa. “You’ve gotta be kidding me… Langa! C’mon! Seriously?” Langa stared at her as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Your denial is really starting to get out of hand. And annoying!” Langa tensed as she grabbed his shoulders, once again staring right into his soul. “Please! Anyone with eyes could see that you two were about to kiss! That is if you weren’t already. Goddamnit, kid! How much denser can you get?”

Langa bit the inside of his cheek once more, thinking over his words. Because the truth was that they were about to kiss, he couldn’t deny that. Or rather, hewas about to kiss Reki. He was about to ruin everything that had been built up between the two because he couldn’t resist any longer. He was going to kiss Reki, a kiss that most definitely was not going to be returned.

“It was just a hug. I don’t know what you saw, but I can assure you that there was nothing more to it. Now,” it was his turn to narrow his eyes onto the girl, “be quiet before someone hears you screaming.”

Emily sighed as she flopped down onto Reki’s bed. For a moment, all was quiet. For a moment, everything was calm and comfortable, a silence that Langa could have gotten used to. Everything as nice until it was not. Because when it came to Emily, silence never lasted.

“Reki and Langa sitting in a tree, K-I-S-!”

It was instinctual the grabbing of a pillow and the pressing it down onto the girl’s face. It was a natural reaction, as natural as the blush that was once more taking over Langa’s face. It was a natural defense because, had she continued, Langa wasn’t sure he would have survived it. Had she continued, it was almost certain that Langa would have combusted and fallen to shreds.

Emily gasped as she managed to fight the pillow away. Her eyes had gone huge as she panted, chest heaving at an alarming speed. Adrenaline had kicked in as she fought Langa off, so much was evident.

“What the actual fuck? Are you trying to kill me?”

“I could ask the same of you!”

“Oh my god!” She swiftly grabbed the pillow from Langa’s hands before repeatedly hitting him with it. “You dramatic asshole! You almost killed me!”

Langa covered his head, trying his best to soften her every blow. “You would have been-!”

“Guys?”

The attack stopped as soon as Reki’s voice came through. From the corner of his eye, Langa could see the boy standing in the doorway, staring at the two. And like two children trying to seem innocent, both Emily and Langa straightened out on the bed, Emily tossing the pillow away as she grinned.

“Is… everything okay here?”

“Everything’s fine! Nothing happened! Nothing to worry about!”

Langa glanced between the two, eyes flickering between Emily’s unnatural smile and Reki’s look of concern. But his look quickly softened as he laughed, leaning against his doorframe, arms crossed over his chest.

“What did Langa do this time?”

What did Langa… “I didn’t do anything!”

“Sure, dude. That’s why you’re getting the pillow attack. That’s serious business, man. So,” his gaze turned to Emily, smile always just as wide, “how bad was it?”

The girl nodded solemnly. “Attempted murder.”

“I did not-!”

Langa huffed as he crossed his arms. He wasn’t particularly proud that his go-to reaction was a pout, but habits were hard to break. And as Reki shook his head, muffling his laughter with his hand, well… he wasn’t seriously pouting. Just a habit of his that always got Reki laughing.

“Children.”

“You’re the youngest one here!”

“You’re younger than me!”

Emily and Langa glanced at each other, their words overlapping and nearly identical. And with that, laughter rang in the air. Three laughs, each so distinct, yet mixing so perfectly.

“Okay, okay,” Reki took a deep breath, calming himself as he straightened out, “my mom wanted me to open presents now, so if you guys want to come…?”

Emily was the first to bounce off the bed, her arm looping with Reki’s as soon as she was by his side. Langa watched from the bed as she bounced, asking Reki a thousand questions he didn’t have answers to. “What do you think you’re getting?” “What do you want?” “Do you think there will be cake after? I’ve been craving cake all week.” The questions were endless until she gasped, pulling away from him.

“I have to go get your present! I left it in the living room when we got here!”

Langa blinked, finally pushing himself off of Reki’s mattress as Emily dashed out of the room. She had gotten far too comfortable in the house, walking around as if she owned the place. Unlike Langa who still needed to be accompanied everywhere, she didn’t hesitate to move around the house, going in and out as she pleased.

“Is that what I sound like when I ramble about skateboarding?”

Langa turned his attention to Reki. He watched him for a moment, watched the way he leaned back against his doorframe, his eyes fixated on where Emily had run off.

“No. I like listening to you talk. You’re interesting when you talk.”

Reki snickered as he pushed himself off the wall. “Alright, good to know.” His eyes locked with Langa’s as he nodded towards the hall. “You coming?”

Langa nodded as he joined Reki, both boys walking side-by-side down the hall. No more words were shared, Langa not knowing what to say, and Reki… He seemed fixated on something. He seemed distracted, chewing on his bottom lip as he walked. He seemed lost in his own little world, spaced out the way Langa usually was. Spaced out until his hand brushed against Langa’s. His eyes grew huge, a deep blush blossoming under his skin as he pulled back and held his hand to his chest, skin going white for the force of his grip. Langa’s own face felt warm as amber eyes flickered back and forth between his face and everything that surrounded him.

“I… sorry, dude.”

Langa shook his head, not trusting his voice. He didn’t want to shatter the silence, shatter Reki’s quiet voice. He wasn’t naturally loud, not the way Reki was, but still, Langa rather not take a chance, not risk ruining everything. And things were already feeling awkward enough; he didn’t need to add anything that would make things worse between the two.

Emily waited by the living room threshold, phone in hand, but she wasn’t looking at it. In fact, the screen was completely dark, nothing flashing across it as Langa was used to. The girl leaned against the wall, a bright smile as she spoke in her mismatched English and Japanese. Her voice was filled with joy and laughter, nothing unusual, but what did come as a surprise to Langa was the person she was talking to; he had not expected her to grab a hold of Koyomi, even less get her to laugh so openly.

While the twins always tried their best to sneak their way into Reki’s room when Langa was there, Koyomi couldn’t care less for him. She always seemed so indifferent when he was there, only raising her voice when she’d get into a heated argument with her brother. Of all the Kyan siblings, Langa had qualified her to be indifferent and annoyed one. Reki said it was just her age, that she had once been even more excitable than Curious Nanaka, but Langa had a hard time believing it. She was even snappier than Miya, and Miya had his moment of pure evil.

“Oh my god, Langa too! He’s so annoying about it, I just…” Emily sighed. “Why is just talking so difficult?”

“My brother’s so annoying. I wish he would shut up sometimes.”

“Can you at least try to be nice to me on my birthday?”

Koyomi stared at Reki, her gaze unnerving. “About time you got here. We’ve been waiting forever.”

“I’ve been gone for two minutes!”

Reki sighed as he pushed past her. Langa gave her an apologetic smile before following Reki, but as soon as he was faced with more strangers than he was prepared for, he backed out of the room, bumping into Emily. Her eyebrows knit together as he stepped away from her, away from the living room, but as her eyes followed his worried gaze, she sighed, grabbing his arm and pulling him into the living room.

“No one bites.” She side-eyed him, slightly smiling at him. “You’re the one who told me that, remember?”

“I know no one bites. I just… New people.”

“You’ll be fine! Just, stand here with me. Won’t overstep, let the family have their moment, but we’re still here, you know?” Langa didn’t smile back as she grinned. “It’ll be fine. You’re gonna be fine, Langa.”

Hesitantly, he nodded, but still, he felt uneasy. He wasn’t sure what it was exactly, if it was that the space was limited yet overflowing with people he didn’t know or if it was because they were Reki’s extended family, but something about being around them made him choke up. Or maybe it was that he was feeling like an intruder; he had shown up out of the blue, after all. No one had invited him, yet there he was, standing in the corner of the living room, watching Reki open wrapped box after box, thanking everyone as he pulled out gifts. He hadn’t been invited and he had nothing to give, the perfect mix to feel a little out of place.

Langa watched as Reki kept opening the presents. He watched as Reki grinned, pressing kisses to Chihiro and Nanaka’s faces as they presented him with a drawing each and some childish arts and craft project they must have made together. Langa smiled as Reki picked up his sisters, making them giggle with his affection, waving them around as he hugged them tightly. Langa smiled, a fondness forming just from the sight of Reki being so loving with his family.

Langa watched as Reki opened presents from his aunts and uncles and cousins – he couldn’t tell who was who, faces too unfamiliar and starting to blur together. He watched as Reki pulled out the presents, politely thanking everyone. Some were complete misses, but still, Reki smiled and thanked the person who gifted him the item. His smile was perfect, so close to his genuine grin, but Langa could tell the difference between the two. When Reki truly smiled, his eyes seemed brighter and he’d bite his tongue as he’d start laughing, but when he was putting on a polite yet fake smile, he showed less of his teeth, the corner of his eyes not crinkling from the laughter threatening to spill. But no one seemed to say anything, probably not even noticing the difference between the two smiles.

Langa watched as Reki went on, present after present until the last one was set on his lap. He stared at it, started at the box his mother had placed there. His fingers twitched every time he got near to touching it, his eyes flickering between the box which hadn’t been wrapped like the other presents he had received and his mother’s face. He seemed unsure whether he was allowed to open it or not.

After a bit of encouragement from Mrs. Kyan’s part, he finally picked it up, but not without nervous laughter bubbling out of the boy. Reki turned over the box in his hands, inspecting every side of it. Always more laughter, still nervous as his mother nodded, her silent way of telling him to get to it, to open his last present. She didn’t seem impatient, her face didn’t betray anything, but excitement flickered in her eyes as she watched her son.

“This,” Reki choked on his laughter, slightly shaking his head before staring up at his mother. “This is some kind of sick joke, right? This isn’t serious, right? Like, you just got an old box and stuffed, I don’t know, socks or something in this, right?”

Before Mrs. Kyan could say anything, Koyomi crashed on the couch right next to her brother, an annoyed look on her face.

“Will you just open it already? You’re literally the most annoying person when it comes to opening presents!” She groaned as she let her body flop against her brother’s arm. “Literally anyone else would be super excited about getting a new phone!”

Langa bit the inside of his cheeks, holding back his laughter as he watched Reki shove his sister away. Instinctively, his eyes flickered towards Emily who was grinning at him. Her eyes were filled with their usual mischief as she gave him a light kick to the calves. Had they not been in the Kyan living room, had they not been in a room filled with strangers, both standing so straight and awkwardly on the sidelines, he would have kicked her back, the same way Koyomi had shoved Reki back.

“Just open it already! Or I’m gonna take it since you don’t want it!”

Reki swatted the girl’s hand as it approached the box. “It’s mine! Don’t touch!” And with that, with Koyomi flopping back against the couch cushion, Reki pulled the box open.

His hand found his mouth as he gasped, his eyes huge and glued to his mother. Even from the distance, Langa could see the tears starting to well at the corners of Reki’s eyes as he shook his head, the light catching against the crystal drops that streamed down his cheeks. And as he muttered something under his breath, Langa couldn’t help but feel choked up himself. Had there not been so many people around, he would have rushed to Reki’s side, brushed his tears away, held him in his arms. Had there been no one else, who knows how far Langa would have let himself go. But as soon as Reki’s hand dropped from his mouth, rushing into his mother’s arms, a huge smile was revealed, blinding as ever.

“Thank you.”

It was the only thing Langa got to hear as Reki buried his face in his mother’s shoulder. It was the only words that slipped out before the tears choked out anything else he said. And as his mother rubbed and patted his back, her smile mirroring her son’s, Langa couldn’t help but stare at his own feet. Looking at them, watching them as everyone else was, it felt like he was intruding on a moment in which he wasn’t invited. It felt too intimate, a moment just for Reki and his mother.

“Of course you deserve it, Reki.” Langa quickly glanced up as Mrs. Kyan spoke, her voice so filled with motherly love. “Why would you think you don’t deserve it?”

Reki lifted his head, his breath shaky as he pulled away from his mother. His eyes were puffy and red from the crying and his smile was wobbly; he wanted to smile, so much was clear, but the crying made it hard, it seemed. But as his mother took his face in her hands, smiling so kindly at him, light seemed to pour out from the boy along with his shaky laughter. “You really shouldn’t have gotten that for me. You… you already do so much, it’s too much.”

Reki bent down as his mother pulled him closer to press a kiss on his forehead. “No such thing as too much. Even if you’re big now, you’re still my baby. You’re my baby boy and I knew you needed a new phone.” Reki pulled back once more as his mother’s hands left his face. Her eyes sparkled as she came face to face with her son once more. “Even before the skateboarding accident.”

“I-!” Reki rubbed his nose, glancing away. “Can we not talk about that in front of everyone?”

“But it was so sweet of you to try to teach tricks to your sister! Even if it did end in disaster, I love when my children are getting along instead of pulling each others’ hair or kicking one another.”

In unison, Reki and Koyomi reacted with a slight gasp and looked abashed. Reki chewed at his bottom lip while Koyomi sunk into the couch cushions to make herself seem small. Stifled laughter filled the living room air as Mrs. Kyan patted her son’s cheek, grinning, always grinning. Reki must have gotten that smile from her.

“I even almost gave it to you two days ago. But you seemed to not be struggling too much with your broken phone, and you were spending less time on it, so I enjoyed those two days of you not being glued to your screen.” She chuckled to herself. “You and your sister are horrible for that. Always staring at a screen.”

“Okay, okay, I get it! Less time on the phone, gotcha.” Reki pressed his hands to his cheeks before huffing. “Can we please stop talking about it now? So embarrassing…”

Mrs. Kyan chuckled again as she patted her son’s shoulder. “Very well, I’ll stop. Now, off you go. I know you want to go play with your new phone. And I also know,” Langa straightened out as Mrs. Kyan turned her attention to him. Or maybe she was looking at both Emily and himself, not that it made much of a difference to him. A mother’s gaze, other than his own of course, left him self-conscious, afraid of stepping out of line. There was a difference in the way he was to present himself to people his age and important people like parents. “I know you want to spend time with your friends for your birthday. So go ahead. I’ll have food ready in an hour or so.”

Reki didn’t hesitate to quickly gather his things, thanking everyone once more before scurrying off to his room. As he made his way out of the living room, he made sure to bump into Langa, his silent way of telling him to follow. And in his footsteps, Emily followed, disappearing from the Kyan family gathering.

It felt nice to be away from everyone, just him and Reki. And Emily. Langa could have done without her, but it could have been worse. He preferred only having Emily around than Reki’s whole family. If he had the misfortune of slipping up, at least she wouldn’t react too poorly. She would only make fun of him and never let him live it down.

“That was…” Reki flopped down on his bed as he rubbed his eyes. “It’s so exhausting when everyone comes. And I don’t even know what I’m gonna do with half of this stuff! They really said ‘oh, he likes art right? Let's get him whatever we can find in a store’ which is sweet and all, but I don’t… What am I supposed to do with watercolors?”

Langa stared at him, not sure what to say. He knew nothing about art supplies, nothing besides the fact that Reki had special paints for his skateboards and enjoyed doodling with either pens or pencils. He also knew Reki had a collection of markers in his desk but that he rarely ever used them. He rarely ever colored his sketches and doodles.

So Langa simply settled on the bed next to him. He did what he knew best: he listened to Reki. He let the boy go on, a spiral of “I’m not complaining, I swear!” followed by confused complaints, grateful for what he got but guilty for knowing that they’ll never be used. Langa listened, nodding along, absorbing Reki’s every word. Every word until they were cut off, Emily deciding to pop in.

Reki sat up straight the moment the girl rested her arms and head against his knees, big brown eyes looking up at him.

“You… Do you want a chair? You don’t have to sit on the floor if you don’t wanna.”

“Forget about that.” She leaned back, grabbing the gift bag she had placed behind her and handing it to Reki. “From me to you.”

Reki stared at the bag that was placed in his lap. His hesitation was obvious, fingers twitching every time he got close to touching the pink tissue paper that poked out of it. His eyes would flicker between the present and Emily’s face as if he was searching for a sign to proceed with the gift opening, but she seemed lost in her speech.

“I would have given it to you in the living room with all the other presents, but then I didn’t want to overstep the whole family thing since you know, I’m the English girl who can’t talk properly, and then there was your mom’s present which was really cute.” Her arms and head settled back onto Reki’s knees, looking up at him once more. “I really should have filmed it and sent it to your mom. It was so cute. I think I died a little.”

Reki inhaled sharply, a light rosy color rising to his cheeks. “I can’t believe she actually got me a phone.”

“It was sweet! And now you won’t panic Langa by not answering!”

Langa bit the insides of his cheeks. His panic the other day had not been pretty and thinking back to it was horribly embarrassing. And if there was one thing he knew about Emily, it was that she would not let him live down his embarrassing moments, no matter how much he tried getting her to stop.

“Now,” Emily straightened out, an excited twinkle in her eyes as she brought her hands together, “I’m not saying this will beat your mother’s gift – it definitely won’t – but open it up! I spent money on you, so!”

She clapped as Reki pulled the tissue paper out of the bag. He grinned from ear to ear as he pulled out a cerulean blue hoodie, laughter filling the air. And Langa was struck with awe as he watched the boy inspect the fabric, his fingers passing over the seams, feeling the cotton between his fingertips.

“This…” He grinned at the girl, bright as the midday summer sunshine. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”

“I didn’t really know what to get you, but,” she chuckled, glancing at Langa before looking back at Reki, “I think this is the only color I haven’t seen in the everchanging stash of stolen hoodies that Langa hor-!”

Langa slapped the bag that was resting on Reki’s lap, sending it flying to hit Emily right in the face. She yelped as she fell back, mostly from surprise.

“Dude, what the hell was that for?”

“There was a bug on it?”

Reki stared at him in disbelief as if he were trying to understand Langa’s words or thought process. He stared, waiting for a better reason, but Langa wasn’t going to tell him. No one was supposed to know about the hoodies. No one was supposed to know about the few hoodies that he kept in his room, wearing them whenever he needed comfort. And anyway, Emily was wrong about them; he wasn’t hoardingthem as she was saying. Langa was just borrowing them for the time being, and sometimes he would forget to give them back to Reki until they no longer smelled of oranges and sunshine and whatever it was that his deodorant smelled like. And when that happened, then they would magically reappear in Reki’s room, either in his hamper or stuffed under his bed, strategic places where Reki would never have thought it odd to find them.

“Alright, now that you’ve given your present,” Langa narrowed his eyes onto the girl who was rubbing her cheek and glaring at him, “I think Koyomi wanted to talk to you earlier.”

“Are you kicking me out of Reki’s room?”

Langa hadn’t noticed that his words had come out in English until Emily was answering him, her voice challenging his. English words had a certain bite to them, something he hadn’t noticed until all the hard consonances left the girl’s mouth.

“I am not kickingyou out, per se, but if you don’t hurry, I might.” There was a pause, one where all they did was stare at each other, waiting to see who would break first. And as always, Langa lost, the first crack coming from him. “Out, Secret Spiller!”

“Langa?” Reki’s hand found Langa’s arm, drawing his attention back to those beautiful amber eyes, to that pretty face that he adored. “You good, man? You’re usually not so…”

Emily got up before Langa had time to answer anything. Her sudden movement had both boys looking at her, watching her dust off her sundress as she huffed. “It’s fine. He’s fine. Just reminded me of something I had to do, got a little impatient since I’m a pain to deal with. Anyway, Langa’s right; I did have an unfinished conversation to get back to. And you know, since someone,” mischief pulled a smile at the corner of her mouth as her eyes locked with Langa’s, “doesn’t trust me, he was just warning me to not be a terrible influence on your sister. And for that,” she stifled her laughter, “I’m going to do exactly that because I hate being told what to do. So catch you later!”

Langa stared at Emily as she left the room, making sure to close the door behind her, something she never did at home. At that alone had heat rising to Langa’s face; the implication was clear: go back to what you were totally not doing before going to open presents.

Reki leaned into Langa, his head falling onto his shoulder. His weight was heavy against Langa, but it was comfortable. It was nice having Reki snuggling closer, getting comfortable beside him. It was just… Langa couldn’t really ask for anything more.

“I’m so tired. I usually love having people over, but family is exhausting.”

“At least you won’t be living with them for a month and a half.”

Reki shifted, hooking his chin over Langa’s shoulder to be able to look up at him. “Emily can’t be that bad. You probably don’t even see each other that much.”

Langa blinked a few times before sighing. Emily wasn’t that bad, but he definitely saw too much of her. He couldn’t even leave his room without catching a glimpse of a blond ponytail or being attacked by her sudden spikes of boredom. She didn’t like going out on her own and she had decided, all on her own, without any consultation with the person in question, to appoint Langa as her personal tour guide, dragging him along everywhere she wanted to visit. A few times he had managed to escape to Reki’s while Nanako brought her around, either to go shopping or to visit around, but most of the time, he was the one stuck going wherever her heart desired. Still, he preferred seeing too much of his cousin than none at all. Having her avoid him had been the worst feeling he had felt in a long time.

“It’s okay. Probably a bit like you and Koyomi.”

Silence fell over the two, enveloping the room in a sort of mystic veil. It was just them once more, them and the silence of the evening. And as Langa caught a glimpse of Reki’s tired eyes, his struggle to stay awake, he shifted to face the boy.

“Do you want to take a nap? I can go-”

“No!” Reki’s eyes were wide as he stared at Langa. “No, don’t go. I just,” a yawn cut him off. “Day’s been long but feels like I barely had any time with you. So just… can we watch videos? I promise I won’t fall asleep on you, dude.”

Langa pulled out his phone, handing it to Reki. He never minded Reki going through his phone; he trusted Reki with everything. “Don’t worry about that. If you fall asleep, I’ll just-” Reki’s eyes looked pleading and filled with worry. “I’ll wake you up for food.”

A light chuckle broke from Reki’s lips as he snuggled closer to Langa, placing the phone on Langa’s knees. His hair tickled Langa’s cheek as he moved closer into him, his chest pressed to Langa’s back, chin digging into his shoulder once more. “Sounds good, man.”

Reki’s tired eyes focused on the phone screen, but Langa couldn’t help but stare at him. The question had been turning in his head all day, unable to ask it directly. No matter how many times he repeated it in his head, changing the formulation every so often, Langa couldn’t come out with it. He didn’t want to sound too forward; he didn’t want it to come out wrong, especially after what he had almost done. But it had to be asked.

“Hey, Reki?” The boy hummed in response, arms looping around Langa’s waist. “Can I take you out tomorrow?”

There was a pause, the end of the question coinciding with the end of the first reel. Langa tensed, but Reki didn’t react, not moving away, not seeming awkward or taking it the wrong way.

“What?”

“I just-! Since I didn’t get you anything beforehand, I was thinking that maybe we could go out tomorrow, I’ll get you whatever you want?”

Langa felt his breath hitch as Reki buried his face in his shoulder. “You don’t have to do that, dude. You don’t have to get me anything.”

“But…” Langa inhaled sharply, refusing to let his courage leave him now. “I want to get you something. It’s your birthday and you always make me a bunch of things when it’s not even my birthday. And I would make you something, but I’m pretty sure the twins are more artistically talented than me and they’re 5. So let me buy you something instead?”

Reki sighed – perhaps he was laughing? – as he snuggled closer. His nose pressed against the soft skin of Langa’s jaw as he spoke and Langa felt the heat creep up his neck. Even if it meant nothing, nothing more than Reki being tired and forgetting about personal space, Langa couldn’t help his rapid heartbeat. He couldn’t help making something out of it.

“If that’s what you want, man. Won’t say no to hanging out with you.”

Langa felt his fingers twitch as he raised his hand. He felt his whole body twitch as he hesitantly brought his fingers to Reki’s hair, tentatively stroking it. The movement was awkward but still, Reki pressed his head against Langa’s hand, humming contently at each light scratch. There was no need to see the boy to know he was falling asleep right then and there.

“Reki?” Langa rested his head against Reki’s, letting his own eyes fall shut. “Happy birthday again, Reki.”

Arms tightened around Langa, Reki’s warm body pressing even closer. “Thanks, man.”

“And Reki?”

“Yes, Langa?”

I like you. I like you a lot, actually. I might even go as far as saying I love you. You’re my best friend in the whole wide world and I never want to leave your side. I never want us to change. Or, I do want us to change, but just a little. Just enough for me to be able to kiss you, tell you I love you. I want to be able to hold your hand for no reason, not just because you’re showing me around. I want to be able to slip my fingers through yours when our hands brush together, not pull back out of fear of stepping out of line. I want to hold you longer when we hug. I want you and you alone. I want you to know how much I like you. Because I like you, Reki. I like you so much that it hurts.

“You’re really amazing, Reki.”

Reki buried his face in Langa’s shoulder, mumbling words that Langa didn’t catch. Not that it mattered much. None of that mattered because Reki was there. Reki was there and he wasn’t going anywhere. Langa was finally getting what he had wanted earlier; he was getting a moment with just Reki.

“Langa?”

Langa hummed in response, his head still resting against Reki’s as his hand onto the boy’s lap. He didn’t bother opening his eyes; the light would take away the magic he had convinced himself of. Without a reality to acknowledge, he would be able to enjoy the moment, not thinking of whatever was to come next. Without a reality to give in to, he could let himself believe that Reki loved him.

“Please don’t go.”

Langa sighed, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he opened his eyes. Reki hadn’t moved, nose still buried in the crook of Langa’s neck. His eyes must have been closed, close to sleep yet resisting it. Reki was exhausted, so much Langa was sure of. His breathing had slowed, his chest rising and falling at a steady pace against Langa. A short nap was most definitely what he needed.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered into the tousled hair brushing against his cheek. “Just close your eyes, Reki. Close your eyes and I promise I’ll be here when you wake up.”

And the boy didn’t resist, snuggling closer before giving in entirely to his fatigue.

----

The house was silent by the time Langa was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep but there had definitely still been sunlight outside. There had been light showered through Reki’s window, sunshine that had since gone to sleep. The room had been plunged in darkness while he was out, everything becoming some undistinguishable mass, everything except Reki.

Langa felt his chest squeeze for the hundredth time today at the sight of the boy. Curled around his blanket, cheek pressed deep into his pillow, there was Reki, snoring ever so softly. His headband had slipped off his head, resting above his hair like a halo. An angel, it was all Langa could think of at the sight of the boy. An angel sent down from the Heavens, an angel just Langa, his guardian angel. It was a ridiculous thought, there was no such thing as guardian angels, but at that moment, Langa thought it true. Because if Reki wasn’t his angel, what else could he be?

Tentatively, Langa reached over the sleeping boy to grab the phone from the nightstand. Normally, he would have taken his own, but in all honestly, he had no idea where it had fallen. So Reki’s would have to do as he checked the time. Reki’s would have to do, even if it did blind him as he clicked the new, unset-up phone open.

Langa cursed under his breath as he shut it once more, plunging everything back into darkness. 7:36 pm. He had slept for more or less three hours. And with that, he flopped back against the mattress, pressing his fingers to his eyes. Three hours. How had he let himself fall asleep for three hours? He hadn’t even been supposed to fall asleep in the first place.

Reki stirred next to him, slowly waking up. He was beautiful as he woke, bleary from the sleep, hair tousled even more than usual, his face still muddled with sleep as he rubbed his eyes. He was beautiful, always so beautiful.

“What time’s it?”

“A little past 7:30.”

Reki stifled a yawn as he moved into Langa. Despite his pounding heart, Langa let him cuddle close, nose pressed against the base of his throat. He let him grip onto his shirt, mumbling tired words into his skin.

“Just two more minutes.”

Langa knew he should have gotten up, but with Reki cuddled up against him, he couldn’t find it within himself to push the boy away. When it came to Reki, Langa could never push him away. And with his head tucked under his chin, soft red hair like a pillow, Langa couldn’t resist holding him close, letting him have his few minutes of extra sleep.

“Two minutes. Then we have to get up.”

While Reki fell back into his soft snoozes, Langa managed to find his phone. With the least movement possible, he kicked it up to his hand to grab it, clicking it open. A thankful sigh left him as the dark screen lit up, not blinding him as Reki’s phone had.

A few missed texts popped up first, all from his mother.

Are you coming home soon?

Never mind, Emily just called me. Call me when you’re on your way home.

You can stay at Reki’s if you like. Just let me know so I don’t worry.

I love you, Langa.

Emily. Emily had come with him to the Kyans. Emily had been left to herself, Langa having completely forgotten about her. Really, Langa had forgotten about everyone around him, everyone except Reki.

It barely took 30 seconds for her to answer his text. She had always been quick to reply, never leaving her phone far from her.

In the living room with Koyomi

She’s actually really cool

Also you’re cute when you’re asleep with your boyfriend in your arms

Sorry, your not-bf

Langa shut his phone, tossing it to his feet, as far away as possible from himself as a dark picture popped up. Had Reki not been there, Langa would have screamed into a pillow. Or perhaps he would have simply whimpered into it, the embarrassment far too great. It was one thing Emily knowing; it was a completely different thing to have photographic evidence of it.

“Langa?”

Langa inhaled sharply, suppressing his need to scream. He held his breath for a moment, curling his toes in his socks before letting it all out in a long, shaky breath. She would tease him forever about that picture. Hell, she’ll probably send it to him at random moments through the day, when he’s least expecting it. She would without any hesitation use it against him, remind him of the leverage she has on him.

“Langa, you okay, man?”

Langa nodded as Reki sat up. Reluctantly, he followed his lead, pushing himself up into a sitting position as well. Silence reigned in the darkness, neither one ready to shatter the comfortable fortress they had built up. Neither one was ready to return to the reality that stood outside Reki’s bedroom.

“We should probably,” Reki glanced at his door to his left before finding Langa’s eyes once more. “I mean, if you want. Otherwise, I could probably just sneak in some food and we can just stay here.”

Langa shook his head, a sad smile hanging from his lips. “I have to go home tonight.”

And as Reki’s fingers found Langa’s face, the palm of his hand cupping his cheek, Langa felt the pleasant burn under his skin. “You sure you can’t stay? My mom wouldn’t mind.”

“I can’t send Emmy home alone. Knowing her, she’d get lost.”

Reki’s hand dropped onto his lap as he straightened out. Barely was it gone that Langa was already missing the touch, the warmth it left under his skin. “Right! Right, sorry. Yeah, right, sorry dude. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Otherwise I probably wouldn’t have gone home tonight.”

A small smile pulled at the corner of Reki’s mouth as he stretched his arms, reaching for the ceiling. His back arched as his head fell back, a perfect opening for a hug. He was there, completely open, perfect to be snuggled against, but then his arms fell to his side once more, Langa’s opening gone as fast as it had opened.

“Guess we should head out then?”

Langa nodded as he pushed himself off the bed. He fished his phone out from under the covers, quickly sending Emily a text to meet him at the door in two minutes while Reki bounced in place, shaking his limbs awake. Staying still for too long had never been Reki’s strong suit.

Reluctantly, Langa slid the door open, stepping out into the hallway. The house was quiet compared to earlier, the guest most likely having left by now. The twins must have been in bed as their squeals could not be heard bouncing off the walls, childish cries that never ceased except in sleep. The house was silent, nothing except quiet faraway chatter and the buzzing of a television.

Reki brushed against Langa, shoulder to shoulder as they walked side by side down the narrow hallway. And unlike earlier, as the backs of their hands grazed each other, neither one pulled away. Instead, Reki nudged Langa, sending him a smile as their eyes met. Sleep really did fix every problem, Reki seeming far less jumpy than he had earlier.

“I’ll… You’re okay with going out tomorrow, right?”

Reki nodded as he leaned back into the wall of the entrance. “Yeah, I don’t have any plans, so I’m all yours.”

All yours. Langa felt his chest squeeze at the words. All yours. The words rang in his ears as he sorted through the pile of shoes that had been stuffed in the closet. All yours, Reki was going to be all his in only a few hours.

“Do you... Is there anything in particular you would like to do?”

“Surprise me, man.”

Langa sighed as he straightened out, shoes in hand and a smile easing its way across his face. “Very well then. I’ll think of something for tomorrow.”

“Just,” once more, Langa felt his heart jump up as calloused fingers brushed against his cheek, pushing yet again his bangs behind his ear, “don’t go forgetting about me. I don’t want to be waiting all day just for you to never show up.”

Langa opened his mouth to protest, argue that he had never forgotten about Reki, that he never would, but before the words came out, Reki was back in his arms, hugging him as tightly as humanely possible. His fingers dug into the fabric of Langa’s shirt, clinging onto it as if his life depended on it. His whole weight was pressed against Langa, the boy pushed up on his tiptoes to match Langa’s height.

“You…” Langa sighed, his own arms closing around Reki’s waist once more. Any opportunity to hold onto Reki was a good one. And he had missed his chance in the bedroom when Reki had stretched out like a cat. He wasn’t missing this one too. He wasn’t missing this change to press his nose to Reki’s hair, taking in the scent of his shampoo, coconut and something undistinguishably Reki. “Are you okay, Reki? You’re not usually this… hug-y?”

“I’m happy, just let me be.”

Langa couldn’t help the chuckle that spilled onto the huffing boy. He couldn’t help the growing laughter as Reki laughed with him, muffling his snorts in Langa’s shoulder. None of it could be helped. Nothing could stop Langa from laughing along with his best friend, laughing along with the person he loved most. Nothing could stop him from tightening his embrace on the boy, laughing into his hair, having him close for just a moment more.

But as all good things must come to an end, Reki pulled back as Emily and Koyomi’s voice grew louder. He pulled back but still, his touch lingered, warm fingers curling around Langa’s forearm, a warm palm against his skin. A small touch, nothing out of the ordinary, but a touch nonetheless. A touch that had Langa biting back his smile. Reki didn’t want to let go of him. Reki wanted to stay joint at the hip as they had always been.

“I’m telling you-” Langa groaned as Emily appeared in the entrance’s threshold, Koyomi at her side- “you’re going to end up owing me a drink.”

“We’re literally betting on the same thing. How can I owe you anything if we both end up right? That’s not how a bet works. See, I could only owe you something if I said that I didn’t believe that they would end up together and they did end up in a relationship. But we’re both agreeing that it’s only a matter of time before they end up together. But,” Koyomi grinned at the older girl, her annoyed tone completely alleviated as she looked up at her the way old friends would, “I can definitely show you the best shops in town! There’s one not too far from here and I’m telling you, it’ll be the best bubble tea you’ll ever drink!”

Emily pulled the girl in a side hug, smiling brightly at her. “It’s a date then, kid. And then we can talk about the details of this bet over lunch or something. Maybe we could put in a timeframe to break it up and get a possible winner?”

“Two months.” Koyomi glanced at her brother before looking back at Emily. “I give them two months for them to realize they’re literally so in love with each other. Like, after school starts again and all.”

“In that case, I say one month. Before I leave.”

Langa and Reki glanced at each other, eyes flickering between them and the girls. And when Reki leaned into Langa, asking him if he knew what Emily and Koyomi were talking about, Langa shook his head. He had no idea what they were talking about but he knew better than to intervene. He knew better than to cut Emily’s passionate conversations. If he said the wrong thing, if he cut her off at the wrong moment, then there was no way of knowing how she would react.

So Reki stepped in, his voice drawing both girls’ attention to him. “So, who’s in love with each other?”

Emily and Koyomi glanced at each other before breaking into fits of giggles. Koyomi’s was more contained, muffling her laughter as she bit her nails, but Emily didn’t bother concealing her laughter. If anything, she was making sure that everyone knew that Reki’s valid question was hilarious.

“No, no, it’s no one. Just,” she gasped, seemingly trying but failing to calm her giggles, “just a show we both happen to watch. The two main characters are… how do you say…”

“Dense! They are so dense, it’s literally the most annoying thing ever! Like, obviously they’re into each other! Everyone can see it except them! They’re so annoying, they should just get together so everyone around them can stop suffering from the intense pinning!”

Emily doubled down laughing, wheezing even. She choked on her own laughter as Langa stared at her in mild concern. He’d never seen her laugh so hard, quite literally crouching down to the ground to catch her breath. He’d never seen her cry of laughter, tears streaming down her cheeks as she gasped for air.

“Oh!” Langa looked back at Koyomi who still seemed really into whatever she was talking about. “And it’s not just horrible mutual pinning! It’s straight-up unbearable sexual tension!”

“Koyomi!”

Langa jumped at the sound of Reki’s shout. His eyes had grown huge as he proceeded to scold his sister. His nails dug into Langa’s skin, but out of fear of being on the other end of Reki’s bewilderment and scolding, he didn’t try to pry him off, just letting him mark the skin.

“You-! Koyomi! You can’t say that! You’re not even supposed to know those words! And you’re definitely not supposed to know what they mean! You’re like… 8!”

“I’m 14 and you know it!” the girl spat, her voice just as loud as her brother’s. “And don’t act like I’m some innocent baby! Not because you cringe at make-out scenes on tv that I have to be some innocent whatever! So when I see sexual tension, I will point it out! And I see it!”

“Stop!” Reki clenched his jaw, dropping his voice to a tense whisper. “Stop saying it so loud! What if mom hears you? What would you do, huh? Or even worse, the twins? What if they start repeating words that they definitely should not be repeating? What would you do then?”

Koyomi shrugged, not seeming to care for anything her brother was telling her. And he had a point, the twins were notorious for repeating words they heard around the house – Langa had once accidentally dropped a “shit” around them and they spent the next three days saying it to his dismay – but Langa was not getting involved in this sibling quarrel. When it came to their arguments, there was no putting sense through them. They were both never wrong, no matter how opposed they were.

Emily was the one who untensed the air, taking a deep breath as she stood up. All eyes fell on her as she made her way to Reki, patting his arm before reaching behind him to grab her shoes. All eyes remained on her as her voice filled the small space where they had gathered.

“Koyomi’s right; she is old enough to know what it is. But Reki is also right, kiddo.” The smile she pointed at Koyomi was kind yet held some sort of authority, another thing Langa had never seen from her. He had had such a hard time wrapping his head around her being an instructor, an authoritative figure to someone until he saw the smile. And Koyomi shrank under her gaze, staring at her feet. “You’re allowed to know things, but you also don’t have to go screaming about them. Especially when you’re supposed to be a good model for your sisters. Teach them words that they should know, not things that aren’t of their age.”

Koyomi lifted her head, eyes like Reki’s flickering between her brother and Emily. “I-!” Her gaze fell once more to the ground as she shifted from foot to foot. “Sorry. I won’t do it again.”

Emily’s smile turned bright as she rubbed the girl’s back. “But you’re definitely allowed to talk to me about it. Though, I don’t know if I’d go as far as saying it’s that. For the sake of our main characters, I’ll just say it’s intense mutual pinning.”

“You say that as if they’re not fictional and that they can hear you.”

Emily’s eyes locked with Langa’s as his sentence came to an end, that mischievous sparkle overtaking the brown of her eyes. And at the moment, Langa understood. Or, he understood something. An unspoken implication that had him gulping, trying to fight back the wildfire that began to spread once more. Was that what the girls were talking about? Probably not. Hopefully not. He trusted Emily wouldn’t have spread gossip about his very personal feelings to Reki’s little sister of all people, but then again…

“We should get going.”

Reki glanced at Langa, pulling his eyebrows together. It must have been the hastiness in his tone, the unnaturally straight back, the way his voice came out a few octaves higher than usual. Reki must have known something was up as his hand fell away from Langa’s arm, giving him room to start nervously fidgeting with his fingers. It must have been the redness of his face that ticked Reki off.

“Auntie Nanako must be getting worried that we aren’t home yet. I mean, we did tell her we’d come back like an hour ago.”

“And it’s at least a 20-minute walk. We have to go.”

“At least-” Reki crouched down and Langa watched as he took his laces in his fingers, looping them into perfect little knots- “tie your shoes, dude.” His smile was bright as he looked up at Langa. “I want you in one piece tomorrow.”

Langa burned red, opening his mouth before snapping it shut and simply nodding as Reki got up. The giggles in the background didn’t help, neither did the choked-up coughing. He couldn’t tell which girl was laughing and which was coughing, but he didn’t dare look at them. He didn’t dare look away from Reki, Reki who was standing in front of him, smile bright and beautiful.

“Thanks.”

Langa cringed at his voice, at his unsteady pitch. He burned as Reki took his face in his hands, squishing his cheeks as he laughed. His heart raced and Reki didn’t seem to notice anything.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, dude. Don’t forget, you owe me a birthday present.”

“I won’t forget, Reki.”

And with that, Reki stepped back, giving room for Langa to pull the door open. He glanced back one more time, catching Reki’s eyes and smiling at him, before stepping out of the house. And as the door shut behind him, he could feel Emily’s unnerving gaze settled on him. As soon as the door clicked behind his back, the girl’s voice filled the quiet night air.

“That was so gay.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

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lnarizakis · 4 years

Text

tear-stained paper | a. zenitsu

pairing: agatsuma zenitsu x gn! reader

foreword: written for the best lightning user out there, happy birthday zenitsu (sept. 3)! this is written in two parts, so check out sal’s piece before reading this part!! @sugaanoya

(( ‘twas a pleasure doing business with you >:)

wc: 1k

look out for: fluff

━━━━━━━━━━☆

“... I should end this before it gets too long. I have so much to say to you still, but I need sleep and I can save that for when I return to you. Sleep well my love and dream of me.

Yours forever,

Agatsuma Zenistu.”

The last few lines of the letter grew gradually blurry as you read through what the love of your life had written for the umpteenth time. After the third, you stopped keeping count. You set the letter down gently, so as not to ruin it further from how hard the little sparrow of his gripped onto it. Pushing the letter aside, you pulled out an empty piece of paper and a pen of your own.

With the inspiration coming from the dried tears and the blotched ink that signed his letter complete, you began writing your own letter back to him.

“To the love of my life, Zenitsu,

Nothing in the world could compare to the love I feel for you; it is a pure, wholehearted, and unshared love that I never could experience with anyone else.”

You stared blankly at what you had written so far. It was only a sentence, yet it expressed everything you felt for the boy. Again you pressed a finger against one of the many tear stains on Zenitsu’s letter for you, and then pressed it against your lips to feel some sort of his presence on you. You breathed in inspiration once more and set your pen on the paper to begin writing, yet you were hit with a case of writer’s block at the worst time.

Focusing as much as you could on the letter didn’t seem to fix the problem, either, for outside the confines of your small home was the ruckus that sounded all-too similar to Zenitsu. You turned your head towards the window by the door, and there was the blur of striking yellow that made you jump out of your chair and rush towards the window to see if it was really him or if you were just hallucinating.

As you pressed your face up against the glass window, you saw three figures: Zenitsu, Inosuke, and Tanjirou, all shouting at each other outside your home. Tanjirou, who faced the window, pointed directly at you as he shook Zenitsu on the shoulder.

Your love turned around and instantly his teary eyes brightened up as he smiled widely and reciprocated your actions, also pressing his face up against the window. The two of you looked like silly idiots in love.

You then turned away to open the door and run into his arms, letting some of the dirt that clung to his haori fall onto you. Breathing in his scent, you thought there were remnants of smoke that also hung on his presence. You nestled your head in the crook of his neck, and Zenitsu did the same. Being in his arms felt like time stopped for the both of you, only abruptly continued when Inosuke, from behind his boar mask, coughed as he muttered out loud, “Lovebirds.”

Tanjirou promptly smacked him on the back of his head in return.

Giggling slightly, you and Zenitsu made your way inside your home while Tanjirou and Inosuke went off to see Urokodaki and get some rest. From there, Zenitsu stripped himself of his haori to place it neatly on the table, covering what you had written for him. You guided him into your bedroom where you were to clean his wounds and, soon after, to fall asleep in his arms.

The moment of your washing away his dried wounds with a warm washcloth felt as intimate as the day you told you felt the same way about him. Maybe it was the lack of affection you received for the past week, but you were sure that this feeling ranked as high as the time he planted the softest of kisses he’d ever given you the night before he left.

When you set down the washcloth, you traced your hands up his arms to find themselves behind his neck as you leaned forward to place a kiss so gingerly on his cheek. Matching the intimacy of the scene, you whispered low into his ear that you read his letter. Zenitsu cupped your cheeks with his hands, and asked you what you thought of it.

“I don’t deserve you,” you blatantly told him, “I really don’t. You say that you’re the one who doesn’t deserve me, but, my love, I never would have thought I would fall in love with someone as caring…” you gave him another kiss on his cheek, “and as thoughtful as you…” you gave him a kiss on the other, “with someone who could love me almost as equally as I love him.” You gave him a kiss on his lips.

As much as Zenitsu loved to talk and blabber on about whatever, he was rendered speechless. All he could do was look into your eyes, full of love and genuinity, and just fall deeper and deeper in love with you. He gave you the most lovestruck smile as he told you like he wrote on paper, “(Y/N), I’m so hopelessly in love with you. I’m incredibly sorry I couldn’t give you the celebration of a first anniversary like you wanted.”

Moving your hands up to cup his cheeks as he did yours, you told him, “What’s done is done, my love. We have so many more anniversaries to have that it doesn’t matter anymore.” The two of you grew silent for a moment.

You then added, “We might as well celebrate our first forever together.”

Zenitsu tightened his hold on you as the two of you fell down into the comforts of your futon. “(Y/N), I love you so, so, so much!” he exclaimed, laughter following shortly after.

The laughter died down, and was soon morphed into soft snores coming from you. With adrenaline coursing through him, Zenitsu couldn’t find himself falling asleep any time soon, so he released his grasp on you and made his way to retrieve his haori.

There he saw that underneath his haori was your attempt at a reply back to him, and that little of a letter was enough to keep him going for now and forever, he thought, as he folded the paper to tuck into the pocket of his uniform.

━━━━━happy birthday, zenitsu!

#kimetsu no yaiba #kny #demon slayer #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #zenitsu x reader #zenitsu agatsuma x reader #zenitsu agatsuma #kny zenitsu agatsuma #zenitsu x you #kny x you

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fanficflaneuse · 4 years

Text

Princess Charming And The Gentleman in Distress

Index

A/N: I wrote this for my beautiful friend @the-hufflefluffwriter who loves Lucissa and helped me explore this ship. I loved writing this and I hope you like it as well <3

Lucius x Narcissa

Word count: 1530

Summary: Narcissa asks Lucius on a date.

Ever since he had gotten to Hogwarts, Lucius Malfoy walked about the school grounds like a dandy. He was handsome and intelligent, qualities he knew he possessed and was not afraid to flaunt them in and out of class. He kept mostly to himself and talked to a very selected few. This rubbed most students the wrong way, as they assumed the was just another stuck up, entitled pureblood.

Which he was, to an extent.

Lucius was raised to be the perfect heir of a long line of (mostly) pure blooded wizards and witches, after all. He behaved with the propriety and decorum he was expected to, but that was not the reason why he wouldn’t engage with most people.

In reality, he knew he wasn’t half as charming as he imagined himself to be. He could get really dorky about things he was passionate about, like potion making or reading. He was an expert in lots of random things. He knew the events of the XVI century’s witch hunts and Anne Boleyn’s biography by heart. He loved animals, especially peacocks and learned every fact about them. He was kind-hearted, sensitive and open to new ideas, characteristics his father scorned.

Through the years, Lucius had curated an image of perfection he wasn’t willing to lose. And he wasn’t going to let anyone use his true colours against him like his father did.

So, as he walked to the prefects’ carriage, his shiny new badge pinned to his robes, he procured to maintain his composure. Nobody could’ve guessed how proud and excited he was about his new position. His mask of poise fell for a minute when he saw who the other Slytherin prefect was.

Narcissa Black was probably the most popular girl in their year. She was beautiful and dignified, with the aristocratic flair that accompanied her last name. She was also brilliant and had a way with people that made her the centre of attention wherever she went. She was a beater and the star of the Slytherin quidditch team. Narcissa laughed and the world stopped to listen. She was everything Lucius tried to convey and wasn’t.

They had never talked to each other. Narcissa had a lot of suitors, but the only two boys she really talked to apart from her teammates were Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, who dated her older sisters.

As he sat next to her, one single thought crossed his mind: Salazar, this is going to be very, very awkward.

…

“So, are you really thinking about filling your manor with albino peacocks?” she asked, laughter in her voice.

“Of course! They are beautiful, noble creatures. Once I’m the owner, I’ll have them everywhere,” he answered humorously and yet dead serious.

“What a joy to whoever marries you, Malfoy.”

As the months went by, Narcissa and Lucius struck up a very particular friendship. Little by little, he opened up to her. She was endeared by every arbitrary piece of knowledge he had to share with her. She loved how he listened intently to whatever she had to say and he’d ask real questions without ever being nosy. Narcissa found someone who understood her insecurities, someone who not only valued her wittiness but always had a perfect comeback for her. They were overly dramatic together, balancing the etiquette demanded by their families with playfulness.

Their nightly rounds suddenly became the highlight of their weeks. Every day, Lucius would try to find more creative ways to flirt. As the friendship grew, so did his attraction for Narcissa and he was dying to ask her out.

“That could be you, you know?” he said smugly.

Narcissa looked at him, an eyebrow raised. She knew Lucius liked her; he wasn’t subtle at all. And she liked him back, but she knew better than to show him that. Her sisters had taught her well.

“Oh, I know that approach too well, Malfoy. My mother warned me about guys like you.” She crossed her arms playfully.

“Oh, really? So, she warned you about handsome, intelligent and absolutely talented guys like me?” he shot back.

Narcissa laughed, a full-blown laugh that left her breathless. Lucius felt satisfied.

“No, you fool. She told me about those men, too eager to get a proper lady for a wife and a line of mistresses and bastards on the side,” she said dramatically.

It was Lucius’ turn to look at her as though she had gone mad. “And I am one of those?”

“Definitely.”

“Cissa, I can count with one hand the amount of people I talk to. If anything, you are the one who might be searching for a proper gentleman for a husband and a line of lovers on the side,” he countered.

“Not going to lie, I definitely like that idea. The swap of gender roles sounds refreshing,” she beamed back.

He shook his head as a smile played on his lips. “You’re going to be the death of me, Narcissa Black.”

Narcissa smiled. They were already walking back to the Slytherin common room. She knew everything her sisters had told her about not showing too much interest. Andromeda was particularly adamant about this; she had shown the slightest bit of interest for Rabastan and he acted smug for months before asking her out. But she wondered how long she’d have to wait before Lucius made a move. Narcissa didn’t know many more nights of playful banter she could take. Patience wasn’t her forte, as much as her father told her it was the most important quality to cultivate.

Her heart was beating fast on her chest when they arrived to their common room. She decided to get over with it already.

“Cissa.”

“Take me to Hogsmeade next weekend,” she blurted out. Her tone was demanding, not allowing the least beat of doubt to show on her features.

Lucius nodded slowly, not able to disguise his surprise at her bravery.

…

Lucius offered his arm to Narcissa, who linked it with hers. They were very close to each other, enough for her to notice how her date was shivering. It was snowing as they walk to Hogsmeade. Narcissa took the necessary precautions when she chose her garments for the day. She looked beautiful, as always, but she was also properly dressed for the weather. Lucius, on the other hand, had sacrificed comfort for style and now he was freezing to the bone and pretending like everything was fine.

Narcissa could tell he couldn’t wait to arrive at Madam Puddifoot’s and get his hands on steaming cup of tea. She decided it was her moment to act gallantly; she had asked him out, after all. She took off her green scarf and put it around his neck. Once again, Lucius was taken aback by her attitude, but he couldn’t deny the scarf made a big difference.

They smiled at each other sweetly, but she knew she couldn’t let this opportunity pass. She was loving the whole “princess charming and gentleman in distress” situation.

“You know, Malfoy? I love seeing you in my clothes.”

Lucius’ face was already too red from the cold for Narcissa to notice the blush, so he decided to play along with her. “You’ve seen nothing, Black. I’d look fabulous in one of your skirts.”

She giggled. “That confidence makes me think it wouldn’t be the first time you wear someone’s skirt.”

“It would be,” he said, “I’m just so handsome I can pull anything off.”

Narcissa rolled her eyes playfully.

“Your confidence, on the other hand, makes me think it isn’t the first time a guy uses your clothes,” he retaliated.

“Oh, it’s definitely not the first time,” she said offhandedly, noticing how Lucius’ confident smile vanished from his beautiful face. “My cousin Sirius looks so pretty in my dresses. You have no idea!”

Lucius snorted. He pushed the door to Madam Puddifoot’s. A tinkle announced their arrival. The place was tacky and over the top, with ribbons and frills in every possible pastel colour. It was, anyhow, classier than the Three Broomsticks and Lucius had wanted to take her on the very best date possible.

As they sat down, Lucius inched forward and whispered something that could’ve probably scandalized any other proper lady he knew: “You’d look great in my clothes, Black.”

“Oh, Malfoy,” she retorted, her smile hinting an incredibly witty response, “you’ll have to go to hell and back before I wear your clothes.”

…

Lucius woke up to an empty bed. He sat up, scanning the room in search of his wife. He noticed sounds coming from the bathroom and laid back, waiting for Mrs. Malfoy to emerge. Narcissa came back to their bed wearing Lucius’ robe. He smiled at the sight and open his arms for her. She gladly complied and snuggled to her husband.

“You know, Cissa?” whispered Lucius, never missing the chance to mess with his wife.

“Yes?”

“Going to hell and back wasn’t half as bad as I thought it would be,” he teased.

Narcissa filled the room with the wholehearted chortles only reserved for her husband and Lucius couldn’t feel any happier.

#lucissa #lucius malfoy #lucius malfoy x narcissa malfoy #narcissa malfoy #narcissa black #narcissa #lucius #lucius malfoy x narcissa black #lucius x narcissa #lucissa fic #lucissa fanfiction #lucissa fanfic #narcissa malfoy fluff #harry potter fluff #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfics

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kyber-crystal · 4 years

Text

A-Z List of Fluff

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: An alphabetic list of yours and Steve’s dynamic relationship.

Warnings: none, mainly just fluff and very very slight mentions of violence but that’s it :)

A/N: I combined these prompts from multiple people, so credits to all of them <3 @goldenhour-goldenboy . this is a friends to lovers trope :) Some letters are repeated. bcI wanted to add in an extra concept. This is prolly gonna flop bc its not a traditional oneshot, but I wanted to publish something for y’all while I’m editing my WIPs

A= Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)

Steve loves everything about you, but the two things that really drew him to you was your smile and compassion. Your smile and laugh were extremely infectious - nobody could stay mad for long when you were cracking a grin. Despite having been through hell in the past: overcoming many hardships and enduring countless difficult wars, you managed to find it in your heart to keep faith in humanity and always held your head up high no matter what. You were always respectful and kind to everyone around you, and he greatly admired that.

B= Best memory (What is the best memory they have with you?)

One weekend after a particularly rough mission in Eastern Europe, Fury forced the Avengers on a team vacation to Bora Bora for two weeks. During that time, you and Steve had grown extremely close - taking daily sunset walks, surfing together, and swimming with dolphins. It was a jam-packed fourteen days to remember. He loved seeing you genuinely happy as you got to relax.

C= Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

You’d moved in to DC together after the Battle of New York, and often times you spent evenings on the couch eating takeout while wrapped up in each others’ arms, so cuddling is almost second nature for him. He’ll come up behind you on nights you’re in charge of cooking for the team, wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck as you prepared dinner. He loves to cuddle and he’s built perfectly for them. His muscular figure and warm arms make the best cuddles. Sometimes, he’ll randomly come into your room in the middle of the night and snuggle up against you. You’ll wake up in the morning to see him holding you tightly like a koala, an arm draped protectively around your torso and his legs entangled with yours. The team likes to tease you about your close-knit relationship and as in love with him as you were with each other, you kept trying to deny it in fears of those feelings not being returned.

D= Dreams (What do they want to do in life?)

Steve is a very determined and headstrong man, with the desire to fight for his country and its citizens having been ingrained in the back of his head since he was a mere teenager. He doesn’t know when he’ll retire and give up the title of Captain America, but for the time being, he wants to keep doing what he’s doing. He loves his job and his teammates - he wouldn’t trade them for the world. But he knows he’d like to marry you and start a family with you someday.

E= Everything (You are my ___ (e.g my life, my world…))

“You are my infinity.”

F= Feelings (When did they know they were falling in love?)

You were on a quad mission with him, Sam, Bucky, and Wanda to take down a Hydra base stationed in northern Serbia. Steve was stuck in a fistfight with one of the agents and you could see another approaching from behind to ambush him, and you knew if you didn’t step up and do something, that he would die. So without a moment’s hesitation you ran into the crossfire, taking the bullet that was meant for him, straight to your stomach.

As upset as he was with you for getting injured, he couldn’t help the feeling of pride and awe in his chest at your unwavering willingness to lay your life on the line for those you loved; your selflessness.

And he knew in that moment, he’d fallen for you, and fallen hard.

G= Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

Steve’s naturally a gentle person (though he’s an absolute beast on the battlefield, with those skills of his) and everyone on the team can clearly see he has a big soft spot for you. He’s always extremely gentle and very polite: holding the door open for you, putting his hand out in front of the elevator doors so you can step in, and makes sure not to squish you too tightly because his bear hugs can be quite strong. Essentially, the man is a giant puppy.

H= Hand/Hold (How do they like to hold? How do they like to hold hands?)

He absolutely loves holding hands. It’s been a frequent habit of his - both platonic and non-platonic. He’ll take your hand in his and intertwine your fingers together, and when he senses that you’re anxious about a situation, he’ll begin rubbing circles across your palm to calm you down. Like always, the team goes nuts whenever you two do so much as make eye contact, because you’re acting like a couple but aren’t doing anything about it.

I= Impression (First Impression)

From the moment you first met, you and Steve were attached at the hip. Having been 27 when he came out of the ice, and you being just a couple years behind him at 24, you were assigned to help him adjust. He remembers seeing you walk in with your radiant smile and your head held high, greeting him politely. He particularly liked how patient you were with him, taking him around the city and updating him on all there was to know, answering all his questions. By the time you both joined the Avengers Initiative, and the Battle of New York came and went, you were practically inseparable.

I= I love you (Who says it first?)

Steve does. You’re already very comfortable around one another that he doesn’t think before saying it. It was so out of the blue when it happened - you were in charge of dinner for the team one night when he came and kissed your cheek as a thank-you, saying a quick “I love you, darling,” before sitting down between Natasha and Sam, who looked just as shocked as you did.

“So are you guys dating or what?” Bucky questioned.

“No,” you and Steve replied in unison, though your cheeks were both bright red.

J= Joker (Are they into pranks?)

He’s not a huge prankster like Loki and Sam, but occasionally he’ll walk up behind you and whisper ‘Boo!” into your ear, making you jump and scream lightly, whacking him in the shoulder from shock. But you realize it’s just him, not someone else - and quickly burst into laughter. It’s impossible for you to get mad at America’s golden boy.

K= Kisses (How do they kiss?)

Contrary to your initial belief, he doesn’t mind PDA at all. You would often joke around about people mistaking you two as a couple because of how close you were. You’d greet each other in the morning with a kiss on the cheek (earning snickers from Bucky and Sam), and he’d say goodnight by kissing you lightly on the forehead.

His kisses are very gentle and wholehearted, yet filled with passion at the same time. You can almost never get enough.

Your first kiss wasn’t how you thought it’d be at all. It was on a Costco grocery run one Sunday afternoon when you were trying to reach up to one of the higher racks to grab something, struggling on your tiptoes. He offered to help you and as he pulled the item down, you’d grown rather close, literally - with your lips being just a few centimeters apart. Oh, screw it, he thought to himself, placing a hand on the small of your back and pulling you to him, pressing his lips to yours.

L= Little Things (What little things do they love/notice.)

Steve notices that whenever you’re extremely focused on something, you bite your bottom lip and an adorable little crease between your brows appears. He always likes to tease you about it.

M= Moment (Their favorite moment.)

Getting caught under the mistletoe at Tony’s party. As cheesy as it sounded, it was your guys’ favorite moment together. When his eyes landed on you in your shimmery gown, his heart began to race. You were the literal definition of a dream, perfection. And when he finally kissed you it felt like fireworks were going off in his chest, electricity shooting through his body as your lips met. It was only your second official kiss but everything about it felt so real, so true, so right - that he couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else.

N= Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

Steve doesn’t normally go way over-the-top when it comes to gifts, but whenever it’s a major holiday or your birthday, he goes all-out. He’s a very good listener, so he’ll take note of the things you like that come up in conversation and take notes later, and will buy you those exact things. He loves seeing your face light up as you receieve his gifts - that’s when he knew he loved giving more than getting.

O= Orange (What color reminds them of their other half?)

Red. You’re bright-spirited and confident and kindhearted all at the same time, and not to mention powerful - just like the color itself. He can’t help but notice how good you look whenever you wear red - especially in your stealth suit with its’ burgundy highlights. He has to be paired up with Bucky all the time on missions so he wouldn’t get hurt while he was distracted with watching you fight.

P= Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

Sweetheart, love, darling, doll, honey, etc. <3 (and once again, the team is frustrated because you’re acting like a couple but haven’t even started dating)

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Steve naturally has a better-than-average memory, but he remembers much more about you than the rest of the team does. He knows your birthday, your favorite color, your likes and dislikes, and every little detail. He remembers all the little things. He can’t help but remember everything when he’s so in love with you. And when he brings this up into conversation, it makes you fall even harder for him.

R= Rainy Days (How does he/she comfort them on dark days?)

You don’t have to tell Steve directly for him to be able to tell when something’s wrong. He knows you like the back of his hand, a skill nobody else on the team had. When you’re rather quiet after a rough mission or just feeling down in the dumps, he doesn’t talk, doesn’t ask any intrusive questions (he knows you hate it when people do that), and just pulls you into a warm embrace and holds you until you feel better. And usually, that’s all that’s needed to lift your spirits.

S= Soft (Something one of them did that turned the other into absolute mush.)

When he called you by a pet name for the first time. It was in the middle of an intense sparring match together in the boxing ring, the team eagerly watching from the sidelines as you circled each other. “You’re tough, but you’re gonna have to try harder than that, sweetheart,” he murmured into your ear. You froze, taken aback, and in that moment of hesitation he whipped around and put you into a firm headlock.

“The tension is through the roof here, I swear to Odin’s beard,” Sam groaned. “Just date already.”

S= Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Steve is extremely protective of you. He’ll make sure to walk on the outside when you’re walking down the sidewalk together because as he insisted to you, “your safety is my number one priority”, often pairs up with you on missions to look out after you and if not, constantly checks in via comms to make sure you’re alright. With the way he’s constantly hovering over you, the team likes to tease him for acting like a worried boyfriend or husband.

T= Talking (What do they love to talk about?)

Anything and everything that comes to mind, whether that be old memories together, favorite memories with the team, your childhoods, or what was on the news that day. You could go on talking for hours at a time - in fact, there were many occasions in which you stayed up all night together, sitting around on the sofas in the lounge with mugs of hot chocolate in hand and the fireplace on, warming your bodies as you spoke.

U= Universe (Use a metaphor, what are they to each other? (e.g he was the universe, ever-changing and mysterious.))

Before you became an Avenger, you were one of twenty-eight dancer-trained enhanced assassins of the Red Room Academy alongside Natasha. A doubtful fighter, you, along with Natasha, were taken under Tony’s wing to further your training with SHIELD. Before becoming an Avenger, your life was a mess. You lost your family at a young age, torn away from the life you’d known as a little girl, forced to grow up too fast. So meeting Steve was like taking a breath of fresh air. He was your safe haven. He was a life raft and you were lost at sea, his presence serving as a reminder that you were in fact, still sane and not just drifting mindlessly through space.

V = Vaunt. (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

Obviously, his strength and speed. He purposely lifts heavier weights in front of you while you’re training in the gym with him. “It’s arm day today,” he’d whisper, sending you a flirty wink as he flexed his biceps. You blushed. Bucky snorted and rolled his eyes.

W= Why (Reasons why they love you.)

There are so many reasons for him to love you. One, you give him a sense of peace and happiness, of home. You were his home. He felt like he could trust you with anything, as you were very easy to talk to. Steve loves how he could just be himself around you, as well as your competitive nature - that’s why he always asks you to go on his morning runs with him. And he loves your kind heart. You’ve seen and experienced far more war, more bloodshed and violence than anyone should have to experience in ten lifetimes, and still, forced yourself to be kind and gentle, to soften your heart. He loves you with his whole heart and soul and wouldn’t trade you for the world.

X= Xylophone (What’s their song?)

Electric Love by Børns. After a nice dinner at Olive Garden together one Friday night, you decided to go on a little late night drive throughout the city. With the windows of the Audi rolled down, the wind in your hair as your face lit up and you grinned from ear to ear, you both sang at the top of your lungs as you made your way through busy New York. He fell in love with you even more, if that was even possible.

Y= Youtube (What are they like online? Do they post about their relationship constantly?)

After several days of you pushing him to get Instagram, he finally made an account (quickly catching up to your 30-point-something million followers). He loves to post about you and your adventures outside of missions together and whenever he does, his followers go absolutely crazy.

Z= Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what pet would they get?)

An adorable mixed breed. You’re both left with cleared schedules on one Monday morning after breakfast, so you decide to head out to the shelter. There’s one dog that stands out to him above the rest, and as soon as he sees them come running up to you and jumping around you, he knows that’s the one. You settle on the name Dodger and take it home. The entire team spoils him to death.

#avengers imagines #steve rogers x reader #marvel one shot #avengers x reader #captain america imagine #captain america x reader #marvel fic #avengers fanfiction #captain america one shot #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers fic #captain america fic #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans one shot

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artistic-mathematics · 4 years

Text

Prompt from @russmid

AO3 - Please read tags first! There’s a bonus scene which includes IMPLIED frick frack content. The bonus scene is sectioned off (with “Keep Reading”) later on this post. You have been warned. Edit: Tumblr decided not to let me copy over my formatting. Rip italics, I guess. Edit 2.0: Thanks to @apapercheesecake for proofreading and being my emotional support. <3

“Velm, why do you even like drinking that stuff? It’s not good for you.”

Velma peers over her book at Daphne, who’s pointing at the cup of coffee sitting on the table between them as if it was a spider.

“It’s just coffee,” Velma says, rolling her eyes. “You drink it all the time.”

“Not decaffeinated coffee,” Daphne argues. “I drink normal-people coffee.”

Velma sighs, setting down her book. “Why does it matter so much? It’s just your coffee without any caffeine in it.”

Inwardly, she feels all warm and fuzzy. She knows Daphne likes teasing Velma to the point she’s flustered, and doesn’t want to take that away from her girlfriend.

(Besides, she loves it, but she’s never going to admit that out loud.)

She’s fighting a smile when Daphne throws her hands up. “The entire point of coffee is that it has caffeine in it! Besides, the chemicals used in decaffeinating coffee beans are absolutely terrible for your body.”

Oh.

She’s not teasing.

She’s actually serious.

Mildly offended, Velma takes the cup into her hands. Her eyes meet Daphne’s for the first time that morning. “Not all decaffeinated coffee is made that way. I did my research. I’d like to think that I would know if I was putting toxic chemicals into my body.”

“You clearly didn’t do enough research, since—”

Her gaze unwavering, Velma slowly and deliberately tilts her head back to chug the rest of the coffee. She’s just swallowed her first mouthful when she hears Daphne’s strangled shriek. The next thing she knows, there’s coffee all over her, Daphne’s on top of her, and the cup’s fallen onto the ground with a loud shatter.

“Daphne!” she yelps, wiping the coffee off her face.

“Sorry!”

She doesn’t sound very sorry at all, Velma thinks, as Daphne faces Velma with a big grin on her face.

“There’s decaffeinated coffee all over my sweater, and you’re sitting on it.”

“It’s okay. We’ll clean those later.”

“How about I clean my glasses now, since I can’t see a thing and they’re covered in coffee.”

Without taking her eyes off Velma’s, Daphne blindly reaches a hand out back towards the table to grab a tissue. Velma snorts with laughter after she misses the tissue box for the third time.

“Oh, shut it,” Daphne says as she turns around and snatches a tissue. “I thought you couldn’t see a thing?”

“I didn’t actually mean it that way—”

Daphne laughs. “I know, darling.”

It’s a soft, wholehearted laugh, Velma notes. It’s raw and pure. It’s charming. Beautiful, even.

I love her so much.

She knows, for a fact, that if anyone else in the world had been in Daphne’s position, she would’ve never forgiven them as quickly as she did just now. She especially wouldn’t be laughing with said person.

“May I?” Daphne asks quietly.

Velma’s eyebrows arch.

“Take your glasses off. So I can clean them.”

“Of course,” she responds, matching Daphne’s volume.

Velma sits patiently until she sees Daphne gently placing her glasses back on her nose. She’s met with the taller girl’s smile, which hovers over her like the Sun.

“Your sweater.”

“Hm?”

“We need to wash that.”

“I’ll go do it if you stop sitting on me.”

Daphne laughs softly again, and it occurs to Velma that she wants to hear that laugh for the rest of her life.

“No, Daph, I insist—”

She’s silenced with a kiss that practically melts her insides. She leans her head onto the back of the chair as the kiss deepens, as Daphne probes her lips with that wicked tongue—

Daphne’s cold fingers ghost over the skin right above her hips, and Velma gasps. “What are you doing?”

“Taking off the sweater so I can go clean it.”

Liar.

“Go ahead,” Velma eventually murmurs.

She feels Daphne’s smirk against her lips at her response, before lifting up the sweater. The other girl’s pace is agonizing slow, and after a few moments, she feels as though the sweater is suffocating her. Daphne’s hands are intentionally brushing the shirt underneath, and she swears if she has to wait one more second—

“Please.”

She can see Daphne swallow visibly at her plea.

“Say that again.”

She’s almost scared at how significantly Daphne’s voice has lowered. She studies Daphne’s eyes for a moment to find nothing but lust in both of them.

She considers saying no, but after all, where’s the fun in that?

Velma tilts her head slightly just to capture Daphne’s lips with hers, before breaking away.

“Please,” she repeats in a hushed voice.

Daphne responds by finally pulling the sweater over Velma’s chest. Velma grabs the hem of her sweater and pulls it off in one quick motion, somehow managing not to knock her own glasses off in the process.

Looking smugly satisfied, Daphne leans down to Velma’s ear. “Your shirt is dirty too,” she whispers.

Velma immediately looks down, but finds that the orange t-shirt she’s wearing looks pristine.

“No, it’s not—” she begins.

“Yes, it is.”

Velma opens her mouth to argue, but a moan escapes instead of any opposition. Upon seeing that Daphne’s smirk has grown, she realizes what Daphne meant about her shirt being clean.

She can’t help but reach up and sink her hands into Daphne’s soft ginger hair and pull her down for one more kiss.

“Yes, it is,” Velma agrees.

#scooby doo #daphne blake #velma x daphne #my fanfiction #tumblr prompts #velma dinkley

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imagine-korea · 4 years

Text

All fun and jokes - Kim SeokJin

Thank you for the request darling. And thank you for the love! It has been a while since you sent your request, but I still hope you enjoy. <3

~Hyejin

Pairing: Seokjin x Reader (neutral)

Genre: Fluff

Wordcount: 412 (sorry)

Warnings: none

Jin had an eat Jin Live planned, just when you surprised him with a visit. You stated that you could come back later but in all honesty that was the last thing he wanted you to do. He didn't want to disappoint his fans but he also really just wanted to be with you. You had been busy, so had he, so neither of you had had much time to be together. Therefor the two of you decided that you would stay, and that the two of you would enjoy a comfortable evening in after his livestream.

And so you sat at the other side of the camera, scrolling on your phone or watching him as he ate, spoke and joked around. Jin stared intently at a hard boiled egg that he held up before speaking. "Why don't eggs joke around he asked?" He paused for a moment, as if waiting for an answer. The suspense caught your attention as well. "They'd crack each other up!" As soon as he released the punchline he broke out in wholehearted laughter. You desperately tried not to laugh at the joke but hearing his laugh you just couldn't stop yourself. A loud snort left your lips and your laugh sounded trough the room. The sound of your joyous laugh made Jin laugh even more, turning in an endless loop of giggles

"You have an even goofier laugh than I do." He teased. "Oh yeah?! Eat this!" You giggled, throwing a pillow at his face. "AH! JAGI!" He yelped as it hit him. His chopsticks dropped, and his face was a bit chocked at his words. "Bye, everyone!" He smiled, waving at the stream and turning it off. He looked at you, a bit shocked and guilty, yet slightly amused. As if he were a child caught drawing on the walls.

"We're in trouble." You said, yet not able to erase the grin from you're face just yet. He stood up with a defeated sigh walking towards you and offering a hand to stand. You looked up at him in wonder, until he spoke up. "It will be alright. I'll make sure of it. I'm sure everyone is going to love you as much as I do." He stated, mater of fact, as he gently stroked your cheek. His voice and touch sooth your worry. "Well almost as much." His lips met yours in the most gentle loving kiss and you trusted every word he spoke.

♥ Thanks for reading! ♥

masterlist

#kim seokjin #jin #seokjin #bts #BTS jin #kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #kpop fluff #bts fluff

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caixxa · 4 years

Text

Fanfic Questions for the Year

I took these questions from @footyficsuggestionbox that used to send different lovely questions of the week throughout year 2017 and posted these as their end-of-the-year questionnaire.

I tagged a few fellow writers and probably forgot more - @svechlly I’d love to see your answers too if you want to do this - and said I’d answer this myself, too.

Questions:

1. Did you follow any new ships this year? What are they and how did you start following them?

I was glad to notice new buzz around Teuvo/Kime and read all I found! I also read my first lengthy second person reader-insert imagine. There happened to be well-written fic about some of my favourite characters and I was fortunate to find this as a side pairing in some of them, and later as the main pairing of other fics. (in other words, thank you so much for existing, @isconnormcdavidok and @thosedaysthatwill)

2. Did you drop any ships? If so, why?

I pretty much stopped reading and writing football rpf after I completed a long hanging multichapter.

3A. If you wrote fic this year, what (from your works in 2019) is your favorite…

fic? - camera ready.Hockey rpf pornstar AU. It was my this year. 43 chapters from beginning of January to the end of August, over 89000 words, so much reader interaction, so much fun, such great friendships established just because people read it and were ready to talk about it with me, whether giving feedback, beta reading or helping me bounce ideas around.

scene? - There were so many scenes that I really liked but I’ll go out of the box and say the fishing scene in the 5th chapter of my camera ready spin-off Country Comforts. I really put some work into it.

dialogue? - I’ll go to my camera ready prequel Do not film me and say that I love this drunk little dialogue:

Sebastian likes this guy, whoever he is.

"When the people leave... Do you think you could stay over?" he mumbles, squinting, it's hard to focus his eyes but if he squints maybe it looks like a flirtatious wink.

Teuvo laughs softly.

"I hope I will! I live here."

setting description? Maybe Andrei’s apartment in camera ready.

opening/closing lines? They’re both from camera ready.

Opening line:

”Spread! Aho, Spread!”

Roddy’s voice is sharp, oh yeah, they’re going for the backside close-up now.

I’m so proud of it because a) the line could be 100% hockey talk but it’s not and b) I started the fic with an anal close-up which both sets the mood and shows the world of the fic right down there and was, I think, a real statement move too, trashy but bold and badass.

Closing:

Kimmo whistles, impressed.

"Wow. Don't tell him I've jerked off to him." He shakes his head and chuckles. "Or, better yet, don't tell my wife I've jerked off to your boyfriend."

Kimmo' s words melt into a laughter, wholehearted and bellowing, and he parts from his young skater with a friendly pat on his back.

Teuvo steps out of the shop, into the bright sunlight, where Sebastian is waiting to take his hand.

I like it because it’s a proper ending and a lovely happy one.

description/characterization of a side character - at this point (chapter 8 of camera ready) Rod was still meant to be a side character so I’ll say this little sentence, Sebastian’s impression of Rod from watching his old porn clips: Flexed pecs like loaves of country bread, biceps the size of hams, defined V-shaped back giving force to the thrusts of his spanking hips.

4. Do you have any WIPs or ideas you’ll carry into the next year? What are they?

Yes. 4 in fact (they multiply somehow)

1. Country Comforts is unfinished, 2 or 3 chapters to go I think (4 if I ramble).

2. Then I have a WIP of a musicians AU one-shot with partly the same characters. 3. And a new little side project, something fluffy that is now at 2K, very core me one-shot thing. I think I may finish it in a few days, depends on how I have time to write.

4. And I’ve talked with some writer friends about my urge to continue the story of camera ready with a sequel and did I just open a new document and type a title and summary there? Yes I did. But nothing more. No promises.

5. If you participated in challenges or exchanges, which was your favorite and why? If you haven’t participated – why not, and are you interested in doing so in the future?

I did 2 exchanges and they both went nicely and I got amazing gifts from them. Maybe Kamikaze Hockey Remix was more fun to do but ALL CAPS was good too.

6. What comment or experience made you feel accomplished as a writer?

I love all the comments I get but there’s a completely new kind of feedback that I’ve got increasingly this year. When I comment, rec or talk about other people’s fic myself, sometimes they’ll response in lines of “OMG wow it’s you, I love your work,” and I’m just as flabbergasted each time. It has taken 3 years of regular writing and 40+ fics to come to this and I’m still not used to being actually recognized for it. It’s kinda weird but I love it, and I appreciate the sense of writing community it creates.

7. Wildcard – share anything you’d like about your writing and/or writing experience!

If I write less next year be happy for me please! Say to yourselves “She’s not escaping her life, she’s actually living it.”

#writing #fic #me #end of the year 2019 #tag meme #writing year 2019 #ao3 links #hockey rpf

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rhianjun · 4 years

Photo

Spent all day thinking of you. 3 years. 3 years? The person I am now is pretty different from the one you knew. My feelings for you don’t seem to have words anymore; it’s transcended into heart songs, memories of bliss and despair, and my dedication to growth as a wholehearted person. I miss your thoughtfulness, your sweet nature, the laughter, the rebellious fun, the late night soul to soul talks, your smile, and most of all, the love. Thank you for helping me be the woman I’m growing into. I’ll always be grateful for you. Love, Rhi. https://www.instagram.com/p/B_TUs7djhAqWbDwSjq6voRDarMeaTw5LVIZy_I0/?igshid=1p8057oohxteh

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